SWF 13th HOUR 2007!!!

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EARLIER TODAY....

 

Tom Flesher steps to the podium in front of dozens of reporters. He wears a natural-colored linen suit and a light blue shirt, collar open, and a pair of sunglasses. As the photographers finish snapping their photos, Flesher takes his microphone and begins.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen," he says, "thank you for coming out to cover what we feel will be the event of the season here in the Dominican Republic. We're pleased to be here, despite the heat."

 

The reporters chuckle politely.

 

"We specifically opted for the spring because we knew we couldn't make the same claim if we came during the Dominican Winter League baseball season."

 

This brings a more genuine laugh from the reporters, and Flesher cracks a smile. He takes a sip from the bottle of water in front of him and continues.

 

"With the SWF's ownership in a state of flux, we're happy to see that we still have the support of fans in the world market. I'd like to thank our reigning World Cruiserweight champion, Dominic LeCroix, better known as the Wildchild, for continuing to push for our visit to South America and the Caribbean. Mr. LeCroix, of course, will be defending his championship against Revolution Zero's Fabulous Jakey tonight. Other superstars appearing tonight include Mr. LeCroix's partner, Johnny Dangerous, who will be, along with International Champion Alan Clark, challenging for Landon Maddix's World Heavyweight Championship. Two former World Champions, Toxxic and Gabriel Drake, will compete in a British Rules match. Of the seven wrestlers competing in the top three matches this evening, three hail from outside the United States; numerous other wrestlers, road agents and support staff in the SWF help underscore the international character of our organization. Without the diversity these athletes and administrators provide, we'd be just another bunch of vanilla midgets."

 

Flesher removes his sunglasses. "Now, without further ado, I'd like to present this evening's lineup, and invite each of you to join us inside the Estadio for tonight's action."

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The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation Presents...

SWF 13th HOUR 2007!

From the sold-out Estadio Felix Sanchez in Santo Domingo in the Dominican Republic!
Taped Saturday, June 2, at 10 PM Eastern time; airing Sunday, June 3; send everything to Ace309



THE MAIN EVENT - TRIPLE THREAT - WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP
Landon "La Cucaracha" Maddix © vs. Johnny Dangerous vs. Alan Clark
---> Three athletes step into the ring. Two have tasted gold before; one holds the second-tier title in the SWF, but gets his chance at gold. Who will walk out of the ring with the gold?
Rules: Two wrestlers in the ring at once - wrestlers must tag in and out until one wrestler is eliminated, at which point the remaining two wrestlers will continue under standard rules. The last man standing will be the World Heavyweight Champion, regardless of any elimination which occurs via countout or disqualification.

SUB-MAIN EVENT - BRITISH RULES MATCH
Toxxic vs. "The Beast" Gabriel Drake
---> To sum up the history between Toxxic and Drake in less than a paragraph would be to do them both a disservice. Suffice to say this match is going to be the culmination of years of animosity between two of the SWF's top athletes, and I wouldn't want to be the referee who tries to enforce the special British rules.
Rules: Two falls to a winner by pinfall or submission. Failing to answer a ten-count automatically loses you the match. Disqualifications are in effect.

SWF CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP
Wildchild © vs. The Fabulous Jakey
---> Who's this Jakey freak, and why is he on my radar? He sure looks like a wuss. He acts like a wuss. He is, however, most certainly not a wuss. He's shown his mettle over the past month and proven to be a thorn in the side of Wildchild. As Wild & Dangerous look to pull off a one-two punch in World Championship matches, can that little whiner who's caught the eye of the community and revived Revolution Zero play the spoiler?
Rules: Standard, with cruiserweight addenda - 20 seconds instead of 10 on the outside, and throwing your opponent over the top rope is grounds for disqualification.

INTERNATIONAL CHAMPIONSHIP #1 CONTENDERS MATCH
"The Dean of Wrestling" Jay Hawke vs. Zyon
---> Though Hawke hasn't seemed able to buy a win since his return, Zyon has been slumping like someone who's in a very deep slump. Still, Commissioner Flesher decided that stealing a World Title shot from Zyon wasn't quite fair, and so he's giving him a chance to redeem himself against the Dean himself. The winner will have first crack at Alan Clark in the next cycle... assuming Alan doesn't win the World Championship and vacate the title, of course.
Rules: Standard singles match.

BERMUDA TRIANGLE MATCH - HARDCORE TITLE
Jimmy the Doom vs. Austin Sly vs. Manson
---> Boy, the fans are going to be mad about this one. What do you mean, we're nowhere near Bermuda?
Rules: What makes this a Bermuda Triangle match? A bad pun, mostly. First pin or submission wins. No DQs or countouts.
\
SPECIAL ATTRACTION
Kibagami vs. Manson
---> Somehow, I don't think this will affect Manson's match, even though it's up next.
Rules: Standard. Use the tag ropes to tie your shoes.

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*knock knock knock*

 

The door to the commissioner's door opens, and Allison Onita's head pokes through.

 

"Mr. Flesher? Someone here to see you."

 

"If it's Toxxic, then tell him nice try, but he can't pass off twenty-six bags of marshmellows as a business expense."

 

"No sir, it-"

 

"Clark? Tell him I already bought Cinderella III for Christ's sake... most unnecessary sequel ever."

 

"No sir, it's not Clark. It-... you bought Cinderella III?"

 

"For the love of- no, I didn't. Who is it?"

 

"Chris Raynor."

 

"Ah! Send him in."

 

Alison's floating head disappears, and a few moments later considerably less attractive face of Chris Raynor appears. At least his head is attached to a body. With legs. That walk over to the commissioner's desk. Carrying the- yeah, I think you got it.

 

"I got your note," Tom says, closing his extremely official looking folder used to conceal this month's Cigar Aficionado. "Something about wanting to bit more work? Road Agent fatigue finally getting to you?"

 

Raynor nods, forcing a weak smile at that inexcusably bad joke.

 

"Well, I'm not entirely certain what's available right now..."

 

"I was... I was kind of thinking-"

 

"I mean, no offense," Tom says, attempting (and failing) to conceal a satisfied smirk, "but I think the talent would revolt if we put you back in the Booker's office - I don't think I need to remind you how well House Rules went over."

 

"I'm not interested in booking again."

 

"And I am relieved to hear that, but unless you've gone back to school, majored in medicine, and now want to join the medical team, I'm not sure what kind of extra work we've got right now."

 

"I wanted... I want to come back."

 

"Come back?"

 

"To active duty."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Awkward silences rule.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"You mean, like... wrestling?"

 

"Yeah."

 

 

 

 

 

 

Can never have enough awkward silences!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tom gets up and walks to his liquor cabinet. Believe it or not, it has nothing to do with the request, and everything to do with the fact that it's Tom, and it's liquor.

 

"I'm... I'm trying to find a nice way to ask this, Chris... how... I mean, are... well... have you considered that maybe you've, you know... peaked?"

 

Wait for it...

 

"Yes, a-"

 

"A long time ago?"

 

Waaaaait for it...

 

"And what have I got to show for it, Tom? Wild and Dangerous have booted me out of the Tag Team record books... my Intercontinental and US Title reigns were jokes... no one even remembers the Minor League anymore... and when I heard that the SWF might be folding-"

 

Almost there...

 

"That's a rumor, Chris. Nothing more."

 

"I just... I..."

 

"Look, I understand if you-"

 

"I don't want to be remembered as Chris Raynor - the guy who lost to Edwin."

 

And there it is.

 

"I've... there's got to be something I can do. Some record I can break, some title I can win, some... something."

 

"And have you considered the possibility that your return could only get you remembered as the washed up ex-star who tried to make another glory run and got laughed out of the building in the process?"

 

If looks could kill, Raynor's probably wouldn't, but it would at least be a nasty kick to one of Tom's shins.

 

"Hey," Tom quickly raises his hands and backs off, "I'm not in a position to say people should stay retired, considering my recent forays, but I've got a business to run here. People might tune in to Storm to laugh at Chris Raynor attempting to rehash his glory days, but that's not something they'll buy tickets for, or order Pay Per Views for. If I'm going to approve this, I need to know you'll be pulling your weight."

 

"You have my word-"

 

Tom's explosive laugh is more gut reaction to that phrase than anything else, but it still takes a few seconds to regain his composure. Raynor is not amused.

 

"Look... despite your name being kicked from the list, you're still considered to be one our of Tag Team elites. So I don't want to see Chris Perfectly Run of the Mill Singles Competitor Raynor. If I'm going to sign off on this, you've got make something happen in the Tag division. Lord knows we need it."

 

"... it might take me a little time to find a partner... but OK. Deal."

 

"Alright then."

 

"... although, if it's alright, I'd like a chance to shake off the rust."

 

"Naturally."

 

Tom returns to his desk and keys his intercom.

 

"Allison, what's Matt Myers doing right now?"

 

"Last I heard, petitioning Rik Fleihr to become the Fifth Norseman."

 

"Of course. Listen, when you've got a minute, send whatever's left of him to the lockerroom to gear up."

Edited June 5, 2007 by chirs3

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boom, explosion, everybody dies except silent

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-=-=-=-=-

As the ad for Frost Brand Women's Underwear fades out, we swing back to Mak Francis and the Suicide King at ringside, with the PPV-hyped crowd going nuts all around them.

 

"Welcome back everybody - up next we've got a late addition to the card. As we saw a while ago, earlier today Chris Raynor petitioned the commissioner for a chance to return. Tom signed off on it, and as an added bonus, set up Raynor's first match for tonight!"

 

...

 

"... no comment, King?"

 

"Well," the Suicide King snidely replies, "the last time he was in action, he played a pretty large role in losing our match at Genesis V. That's what I plan on remembering him as - a guy who's blown the big one. Twice."

 

"That's a little harsh, King. I mean-"

 

"They had Landon, Mak. LANDON."

 

"In any event, it looks like we're ready to get this underway!"

 

The view pulls back to show Funyon, in a hideous Hawaiian t-shirt and beach shorts.

 

"The following contest is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first..."

 

Look at you looking at me

You seem so full of intrigue ...

 

Isle of Q's "Rubberneck" graces the SWF for the very first time, as it heralds the return of Chris Raynor... the last time he stood before the fans was over two years ago, at Genesis V - have the fans warmed up to him at all in the intervening time?

 

BOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

Nope. As he swats the curtain aside and steps out, the reaction from the fans is about what he expected - rather than dwell on it, though, he keeps his eyes on the ring, and walks straight down without a moment's hesitation.

 

"Raynor said he's come back to try and get his name in the record books," Mak says, jogging our memory, "so I imagine he's not going to be too preoccupied with making friends here tonight."

 

"And his oppone-"

 

A backstage lackey suddenly bursts from the curtain and sprints down the ramp, frantically waving an index card! Funyon leans over the ropes and plucks it from his hand...

 

"Uh... not sure what's going on here," Mak says, as Funyon reads the card, looking at first puzzled, then grinning.

 

"Cancelled. Cancelled. Please say it was cancelled," King pleads, with his fingers crossed.

 

Funyon hands the card back to the kid and sends him away, then takes a few steps away from Raynor for safety before bringing the mic back up and...

 

"Correction: Introducing his PARTNER!"

 

The Suicide King's head heads straight for the table, before being intercepted by Mak Francis's hands.

 

"King, no! If you're going to try and beat yourself into unconsciousness, use the Spanish Announce table."

 

Fair to Midland's "Dance of the Manatee" stomps its way on out of the speakers, and in a sight that would make a grown man cry had it not already happened once before, a manatee swings out from the rafters.

 

"Hailing from the waters of the Caribbean... weighing in at approximately twelve hundred pounds... he is MATT... THE MANATEEEEEEEE... MYYYYYEEEERS!"

 

"... forget what I said, King. Pound away."

 

*BANG*

 

The gigantic grey lump with barely discernable fins and eye holes swirls over the sold-out crowd, making a full rotation around the arena before slowly descending to the ring, landing right next to his tag team partner, who's reaction could accurately be described as WTFBBQ. Funyon helps Manatee remove his cables, which of course allows Myers to fall flat on his face. After struggling for a few moments, he looks up at Raynor, shrugs, and rolls out of the ring.

 

"Looks like Myers is wisely defaulting to the expert here."

 

"Like he's got a choice!"

 

"And their opponents..."

 

The faint electronic opening of Andrea Johnson's "Glorious" seeps across the arena - a few moments later, as the song begins proper, Rikard Fleihr and Olaf Anderson appear onstage. If anyone is less happy about this situation than Raynor, it's these two, as the prospect of fighting a man in a manatee suit is slightly more repugnant than the notion of teaming with him. Nevertheless, they head down the ramp with a certain air of confidence.

 

"Weighing in at a total combined weight of four hundred and seventy-three pounds... they are one half of the Four Norsemen... Rikard Fleihr, and Olaf ANDersoooooon!"

 

Raynor walks back to his corner and leans over the top rope, pleading with his partner to "Please, for the love of God, get up." Myers just gurgles and waves a fin in his general direction.

 

Across the ring, Rik and Olaf exchange a few words, then Olaf backs off and heads to the Norsemen's corner.

 

"So it looks like it'll be Rik starting for the Norseman, and Raynor starting for... um... what should we call them, King?"

 

"The Joker and the Choker?"

 

"Ouch."

 

*DING DING DING*

 

Raynor gives up and turns his attention to Rik, now standing ready in the center of the ring. After a few moments of sizing each other up, they move in for the collar-and-elbow tie-up - Rik ducks in and goes for the arm-drag takeover, but Raynor pushes him back. Fleihr rides with the momentum, hits the ropes and comes back, cleanly ducking an attempted clothesline! He throws his arms back to try and catch Raynor in a quick neckbreaker, but the Rayn-man again manages to force the Norsemen off! Rik rebounds into the ropes again and ducks a second clothesline - this time Raynor instinctively throws his elbow back to counter a neckbrecker, but Rik sees it coming and hooks Raynor's arm as it comes back, then tosses him down to the mat!

 

"Nice exchange to open things up-," Mak starts to break it down, but is quickly overwhelmed by the fast-growing chant sweeping the crowd.

 

"MAN-A-TEE! MAN-A-TEE! MAN-A-TEE!"

 

Raynor quickly gets back to his feet, but Rik is quicker, diving into the veteran and pushing him back into the Norsemen's corner! Olaf immediately puts his hands in the air, showing the ref he has nothing but the purest of intentions - Rik begins wailing on Raynor in the corner, then applies a blatant choke!

 

ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FIV- just before the E, Rik lets it go, and the referee gets between them to move Rik off. Olaf's hands stay in plain sight, but the opportunity for foul play is too sweet to pass up, and he delivers a sharp kick into the back of Raynor's right knee! Raynor crumbles to the mat, then rebounds and takes a wild swing - Olaf drops to the floor, providing all the distraction needed for Rik to come in from behind and club Raynor on the back of the neck! He then grabs the Caveman's arm, whips him around, and heaves him across the ring. Raynor crashes chest-first into his own corner, then instinctively waves a hand out to tag his partner-

 

Oh, right.

 

He turns around just in time to eat a running shoulderblock to the gut! A second, a third, a fourth, and finally Raynor collapses in the corner. Rik throws a few boots into his gut, then takes a moment to reflect... We've gone almost 30 seconds without some form of illegal activity - Fleihr aims to amend this with a boot pressed squarely across his opponent's throat!

 

ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FIV- ah, there we go.

 

"King, I hate to say it, but I have to wonder if maybe Tom's impressions were right. Raynor hasn't been able to get much of anything going thus far."

 

"But he's Chris Raynor! The tag team legend! Hell, I've heard him boast that he could carry a manatee to a tag title reign before!"

 

"You have not."

 

"Are you forgetting the whole panda thing? That was Raynor."

 

"... point taken."

 

Rik yanks his foe up by the arm and swings him across the ring once more. Raynor crashes into the Norsemen's corner, and slumps to the canvas once again. Rik starts to follow up, but Raynor suddenly points an accusing finger in his direction, and shouts to the ref!

 

"What the- what's Raynor saying?"

 

The referee gets between the two and pushes Rik back, then points down at his boot! "It's loaded!" Raynor shouts from across the ring - Rik protests, but the ref demands it be removed for inspection! Fleihr furiously works at the laces, giving a subtle nod to his partner as he does so. Olaf's hands assume the innocent pose, but he rears his leg back again-

 

-and just as he does, Raynor lashes out with his elbow and cracks the one leg Olaf's still got planted on the canvas! Gravity does the rest of the work, as Anderson's legs give way and he falls to the floor, cracking his chin on the ring apron! The crowd responds in the approriate manner:

 

"MAN-A-TEE! MAN-A-TEE!"

 

Rik, now aware of his partner's failure, lunges across the ring but the ref holds him back, demanding that the boot be inspected! Rik rips at the laces for a moment, then just grabs the bottom and forces it off, laces be damned, then thrusts it into the ref's face! The ref steps aside to examine it - no sooner does he step out of the way than Raynor launches himself across the ring on his good foot and levels Rik with an elbow to the face! He then yanks Flair back up and shoves him into the ManaTeam's corner - sensing his luck with the boot is about to run out, Raynor grabs the top ropes, leaps up, then drops both boots and all of his weight straight down on Fleihr's unprotected foot!"

 

"MAN-A-TEE! MAN-A-TEE!"

 

Rik falls to the mat and clutches his foot, howling in pain - satisfied that the boot is legit, the referee heads back to Rik and drops the boot down in front of him, apparently not too troubled with this recent turn of events. What does trouble him is the curious lack of Raynor inside the ring.

 

"Where is he going, King?"

 

"... where do you think, Mak? It's not enough that we have a manatee booked tonight - we have to give him a partner stupid enough to tag him in."

 

Against the manatees curiously human sounding protests, Raynor grabs Mattatee Myers and begins dragging him up the ringsteps to the corner! He props Myers up against the ropes, steps back into the ring-

 

"MAN-A-TEE! MAN-A-TEE!"

 

*SLAP*

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

And slaps Myer's involuntarily available fin! The crowd actually cheers for the first time in this match, as Raynor drags Rik back to his feet, and launches him into a neutral corner!

 

"ONE!"

 

Huh?

 

"TWO!"

 

Oh crap.

 

"THREE!"

 

"Myers is getting counted out!" Mak cries as the King just howls with laughter. "Raynor tagged out, but Myers still isn't in the ring!"

 

"FOUR!"

 

Thinking quickly, Raynor carefully drags Myers to the center of the apron-

 

"FIVE!"

 

-then grabs the top rope and drops to the mat! Myers, leaning helplessly against the ropes, has no say in the matter as he falls over the top and flops into the ring!

 

"Great plan, you moron," King chides. "I'm sure NO ONE will be able to pin a twelve-hundred pound blob THAT CAN'T MOVE."

 

On the outside, Olaf Anderson climbs back onto his corner, nursing a bloody lip and a cracked tooth, while Rik starts to come to his senses in the neutral corner. Raynor submits to the referee's demands that he exit the ring, calmly posting himself in his corner. Rik shakes his head a few times - either trying to clear the cobwebs or trying to figure out what a manatee is doing flopping around in the ring. He shoots a confused look to his partner, who just shrugs... Suspecting a trap, Fleihr slowly approaches Myers, keeping his eyes on Raynor, who just grins and waves him on... Rik drops down and flops across Myers.

 

...

 

 

...

 

 

...

 

"Uh... ref? Count?"

 

"Count what, King?" Mak says, stifling a laugh. "You see any shoulders on that thing?"

 

The ref is down and in position, but his hand hovers above the mat - he scratches his head, scoots around to the other side... scratches his head again...

 

"MAN-A-TEE! MAN-A-TEE!"

 

Enraged, Fleihr jumps on top of Matt and tries desperately to pin both fins to the mat - Myers responds by rolling over on his side, trapping his right fin underneath him! Rik pulls him back, and Myers just rolls through and stops on top of his left! Back and forth, back and forth, until finally Rik can't take it anymore! He gets back to his feet, falls into the ropes, springs back and drops a knee on the spot he suspect's Myers' face is. A clearly audible "Oof!" confirms his theory. Rik drops a second knee, then a third, then mounts the manatee again, and this time is fast enough to pin both fins to the mat!

 

"ONE!"

 

"TWO!"

 

"TH-"

 

And for the first time in the evening, someone other than the manatee gets a face pop, as Chris Raynor climbs through the ropes and dives forward, dropping an elbow directly onto the back of Rik's head! Soft manatee-suit padding cushions the front of his head, but not the back, and the Norsemen rolls away clutching the back of his head! The referee ushers Raynor back out of the ring, then turns back to see Fleirh slapping Olaf's hand! Olaf enters the ring and stalks his prey, who at this moment is desperately attempting to squirm back towards his corner. He travels about an inch and a half before Anderson grabs his tail and hauls him back across the ring to the Norsemen's corner!

 

"Twelve-hundred pounds, huh?"

 

"Come on Mak, they're Norsemen! They're probably channeling Thor or something!"

 

"Wouldn't that count as interference?"

 

Olaf points to Raynor and tells Rik to watch him, then drops down on Myers and pins the fins once more!

 

"ONE!"

 

Myers struggles to free himself!

 

"TWO!"

 

He frantically rolls back and forth!

 

"THR-Ropes! Foot on t, er, fin on the ropes!" The referee points out and, sure enough, Mattatee has flopped the very tip of his tail onto the bottom rope! Olaf angrily grabs his fin and drags him out towards the center of the ring-

 

-and Myers takes advantage by throwing his weight forwards and log rolling right into Olaf's legs! The mushy padding might not hurt much, but the momentum is enough to knock Olaf off his feet! Myers keeps rolling until he gets to ManaTeam's corner, then desperately stretches his fin out for help...

 

... Raynor remains on the apron, calmly examining his fingernails. And whistling.

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

 

"Now that's just cold, Raynor. He's an endangered species!"

 

"That was true long before tonight, Mak."

 

Olaf, nursing only his wounded ego, grabs Myers' tail and starts hauling him back! Anderson turns around to signal his partner, and Raynor takes that opportunity to lean over the top and slap Myers' fin in a blind tag! The referee calls it fair, but Olaf and Rik are busy strategizing - Olaf tags his partner in, and together heft Myers up and dump him into a neutral corner! They then retreat to the opposite side - Olaf grabs Rik's arm and whips him towards Myers! Rik leaps into the air and plows into the Manatee with a crossbody, just as Raynor finally enters and takes out Olaf with a big boot to the side of the head! Rik bounces off of Myers with little more accomplished than having a little fun, but he's suddenly taken down from behind in a schoolboy rollup!

 

"ONE!"

 

"TWO!"

 

"THRE-"

 

NO! Rik breaks free at the last second! He and Raynor scramble to their feet, and this time it's the Caveman who's quicker as he blasts Fleihr in the face with a series of forearms, driving him back into the ropes! He takes Rik by the arm and starts to whip him across the ring, but then yanks him right back in and buries a knee into his stomach! Rik drops to his knees, and Raynor takes the opportunity to run the ropes, then leap high on his return and smash Fleihr's face into the mat with a vicious Scissor Kick! Raynor quickly turns him over and makes a quick cover!

 

"ONE!"

 

"TWO!"

 

"THR-" Rik breaks the pin again! Wasting no time, Raynor heaves Rik into a neutral corner-"

 

"GET HIM OUT!" shouts the ref, as he gets between the two legal combatants. Raynor's confused for a moment, then suddenly looks back and realizes Myers, no longer the legal man(atee), is still propped up in the corner inside the ring! Raynor throws a few kicks to Rik's gut to keep him down, then heads across the ring and drags back to ManaTeam's corner, and begins struggling to force him through the ropes! As soon as his bearings return to him, Fleihr pulls himself out of the corner and stumbles over to his partner-

 

*SLAP*

 

-bringing Olaf back into the match! The two men lock hands, then spring across the ring, looking to catch both Raynor and Myers in a double clothesline-

 

-but Raynor drops down at the last second, making sure to grab the top rope as he does! Rik succeeds in plowing into Myers, but the momentum carries BOTH of them over the ropes and to the outside, and Fleihr doesn't have the luxury of a massive padded suit! Olaf slams into the corner, and Raynor quickly scrambles to his feet and locks his arms around the Norsemen's waste, trying for a German suplex! Olaf desperately clings to the ropes, and eventually Raynor unlocks his arms and takes a step back-

 

-which is all the opportunity Olaf needs! His hands still on the top ropes, he leaps up and kicks his feet backward, snaring them both around the Rayn-man's head, then tumbles forward, flinging Raynor out over the top with a Hurricanrana! If we lived in a just, fair world, Raynor would have landed on the perfectly comfortable manatee pillow that's acting as his partner - since we don't, Raynor lands a few feet to the left.

 

"So have we just abandoned all hope of calling this match, King?"

 

"Welcome to ten minutes ago, Mak, glad you could join us."

 

Olaf sizes up his opponents' location and condition, then takes ahold of the top rope and springs over, gaining impressive height before driving both knees directly into Raynor's chest! The Norseman bounces off and rolls away, a little shaken but otherwise fine, then grabs Raynor's hair, yanks him up, and rolls him back into the ring, immediately going for the cover!

 

"ONE!"

 

"TWO!"

 

"THR-" Raynor kicks out! Olaf gets back to his feet and throws a few boots to his foe's face for good measure, then heads out of the ring to check on his partner. Rik has just about recovered from his accident - Myers is either dead, or smart enough to play dead. In any event, he doesn't do much, so the Norsemen pay him no heed - Olaf helps Rik limp back towards their corner, then he rolls into the ring, only to see Raynor charging straight for him! Olaf ducks the attempted clothesline, spins and delivers a picture perfect dropkick that pushes Raynor back into the neutral corner! The Rayn-man bounces back and attempts a shoulderblock, but Olaf sidesteps and delivers a second dropkick, and this one puts the Caveman down! Anderson quickly runs and leaps onto the second rope, then extends his legs on the spring back and cleanly drops one over the Rayn-man's throat, before attempting another cover!

 

"ONE!"

 

"TWO!"

 

"THR-RIIP!" Raynor kicks out before "EE", but the sound of some portion of Myers' Manatee suit tearing fills in the gap! That's about the last thing the Norsemen need to worry about, however - Olaf heads over to his partner, and after a bit of consultation he makes the tag! Rik begins to scale the turnbuckles of the Norsemen's corner, while Olaf drags Raynor towards the center of the ring, then heads to the opposite corner and begins to climb as well! Rik makes it up first, and seeing absolutely no movement from Raynor, takes the opportunity to ham it up with the crowd!

 

"MAN-A-TEE! MAN-A-TEE!"

 

And gets nothing for his troubles. Meanwhile, Olaf shouts directions from across the ring-

 

-YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

-when suddenly a giant grey blow comes bounding up the ringsteps! Poking out from under the manatee's mass are the two gangly legs of Matt Myers - he leaps up the stairs, wraps a fin around Olaf's head and leaps off, taking the Norseman all the way from the top rope to the floor with a Bulldog! Rik steps off the top rope and rushes across the ring to check on his partner, when the semi-recovered Chris Raynor lumbers to his feet and locks his arms from behind, then literally tears Rik's grip off the top rope, spins around, and takes him down with a Full-Nelson slam! Raynor springs back to his feet, bringing Rik up with him, then launches him twice - once into the ropes, and once high into the air on his way back with a-

 

"-biiiiiiiiig back body drop!"

 

*groan*

 

Raynor pitches a sharp whistle to his partner, and after Myers is satisfied that Olaf won't be moving for a while, the Manatee-Man gets back to his feet and wobbles over to the ring, only fitting under the bottom rope after his partner strains to hold it open. Raynor helps him to his feet, and then whispers something to him... Mattatee nods, then moves to their corner and slowly begins to scale the ropes!

 

"What on Earth-"

 

Raynor lays a few kicks into Rik's head for good measure, then drags him over towards the ManaTeam's corner. Myer's flimsy fins barely hold on to the ropes, but he doesn't need to hold on for long - one bounce, two bounce, and-

 

"BANZAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAI!"

 

*SPLORT*

 

The actual damage done can't be much, but the sheer girth of the suit makes the pin a foregone conclusion.

 

"ONE!"

 

"TWO!"

 

"THREE!"

 

*DING DING DING*

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

MAN-A-TEE! MAN-A-TEE! MAN-A-TEE! MAN-A-TEE!

 

"Dance of the Manatee" ignites the audience once again, and that may be the very dance Myers is dancing right now, as Funyon proclaims "Ladies and Gentlemen, the winners of this bout... Chris Raynor, and MATT... MANATEEEEEEEEEEEEE... MYYYYYYYYEERRRRRRRRS!"

 

We cut to the announcer's table, where Mak and King are... well, they're dumbstruck.

 

"Mak... I'm confused... did... did Myers just..."

 

"I... I think we're dreaming."

 

"Are we dead?"

 

"Maybe we're high."

 

"THE END IS NIGH!"

 

"Pissbreak. Back in a sec."

 

Mattatee continues to ham it up in the ring - Raynor, on the other hand, only stays around for the ref to raise his hand, then he takes his leave. Despite his best efforts to ignore the crowd and just get to the back, the camera catches an involuntary grin as he goes.

 

MAN-A-TEE! MAN-A-TEE! MAN-A-TEE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

It's good to be back.

[Ace309 0]

Earlier.

 

"I lost my direction, my goal was no longer in my sights," says MANSON prior to the start of 13th Hour in a typical darkened locker room, as he sits on a metal folding chair, "Everything was going down and I couldn't trust what they told me anymore. I had been abandoned and was quickly losing faith."

 

"And now I know that, looking back on his past, what happened to Silver was retribution, don't blame me, blame him! I was there at that time because I was delivering justice, it was a simple judgement… at the time, the moment I attacked… is because it was fate. Edward James, though he did nothing wrong, like Silver, he met doom because it was needed. Yeah, James and Silver, however deserved, are nothing but statistics…"

 

"With Silver's blood still on my knuckles, Edward's blood still on my bat, their screams continuing to pulse in my ears, they're testaments to the day I grabbed fate and took destiny, laying down my rule and telling them who I was and what I was there to do! Your Champion is also one, a statistic, though one with something I want, but still, everyone is asking 'Why? Why them, why now?!'"

 

"Frankly," he says, laughing to himself, "even I have no idea. I just don't, but after that loss… that loss to fucking Wild and Dangerous, you know the one, I know you do, something… it went off… in my mind. He's the one I've been waiting years to get my hands on and break his damn neck like he did me, but then… then… as I said to Johnson after, 'How?! HOW?!' Let me spell it out, okay?!"

 

"Looking for a reason to stay, any reason, I found nothing. I was already gone, intent on abandoning this sinking ship and saving myself before this place ate me alive, and with a heavy offer from OAO… well, I nearly did it, yes I did, but I couldn't let myself be tempted, and it was hard… what was worse was the realization…"

 

"See, I'm already done for, my heart and soul are tainted, my body is withered and broken. I could no longer forgive myself for my past and as this dawned on me, the time and chances slipping by, I was miserable. Even then, as I tried to prove the Professor was fake and would only lead Nemesis to ruin, it was a while ago, I know… but even then I already knew. I already knew my own heart was as charred as his. Even as I tried to escape, I was already a victim of the SWF, of my life… I was burning to death as I stood in these flames. It was killing me, but I pretended… really, I'm not the type to carry the burden… even I couldn't guide anyone through this pit if I was already on fire myself."

 

"This. Just prior to Maddix, this was the moment of truth, of clarity. If I couldn't save, couldn't offer salvation, what else was there? Huh? There was only one path…" he says, taking in a breath, "I had to be the one to destroy and maim. The only option was to take those flames and turn them back on the world itself, man. The only way, I think, is not to rule a kingdom in heaven, but one in hell. I'm the one introducing suffering, fear, a nightmare world drowning in blood, yeah."

 

"Those two, James and Silver are done. They can be thankful they escaped with their life and try to live, but to me they no longer exist, they did their part. Now, Clark. Wildchild and Dangerous. Jakey if he can take care of you tonight, WC, and though Johnson is out, if he ever makes his way back we may head after those belts once again, yeah. Those are some of the REAL interesting ones, but don't think I forgot about you, Landon, not by a long shot. Not since me and Johnson wrecked you… hell, not since I literally killed you in a match way back, have I forgotten. So where's my shot, huh?! I did it Tom Flesher, I did it for the SWF, didn't I, but where's my shot?! I did the job, Flesher… where… but… I… not to worry, I'll get it eventually, Maddix, even if I have to stomp on everyone from here to there and take it by the throat!"

 

"Yeah. Yeah. I'm coming for you, Maddix. I'm after everyone in the meantime who may stand between me and destiny. I may fall, but no matter what I'm coming through it all the winner, totally unscathed, because nothing can stop me and I'm already burnt anyway. I'm ruthless, raging and unstoppable, a fucking inferno cutting a swath of destruction. I know what I'm to do and I know I'll come down on the right side. And anyone who obstructs me will be just another addition to the list. If MANSONOSITY is willing, naturally I'll be starting with you two, Jimmy The Doom and Austin Sly."

 

"I'm carrying the world not as a saviour, but as the one who turns time itself with my hand by motivating and initiating mankind. Through my force of will and power which makes Olympus shake, I'm controlling the ages, time and space are bent to my will. Everyone is a statistic only waiting to be sacrificed, carried off to the chopping block whenever I want. It's clear now, yeah?! I'm the poisonous snake in the grass your mother warned you about, a deceiver and liar to the core, I can be either your best friend or worst enemy… and a beast, a destroyer of worlds… the one who keeps cosmos and stars in check, knowing all and obliterating as I see fit… then doing it all over again because I'm the one behind the universe… to fuck with me is to fuck with a force of nature. IN short, rather than trying to lead the SWF, saving everyone from themselves and introducing light, I'm best suited to… introducing chaos and burning it all to the ground."

[Ace309 0]

The Estadio Felix Sanchez (Or Giraffe-Hat Park in American-talk) pulsates with excitement as 13th Hour presses on. As a video package for Toxxic and Gabriel Drake's epic rematch winds down, the lights drop down in preparation for the next match.

 

"It's time for our first of several title matches tonight, King, and strangely enough, Insane Luchador isn't set to challenge Jimmy the Doom for the Hardcore belt," Mak says.

 

"I think that after Doom thumped Luchador about fifty times in a row, IL decided to stay as far away from the Hardcore title scene as possible," King says.

 

All talk betwixt the commentators stops as a gravelly roar cuts through the crowd. Another guttural growl brings Cephalic Carnage's "Scientific Remote Viewing" into full swing, flashing white strobe lights and thick smoke following.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall and is for the Hardcore championship! Introducing first, from Denver, Colorado, and weighing two hundred, thirty pounds, the Savage Messiah, MMMAAAAAAAANSON!" Funyon booms.

 

MANSON stomps down the ramp, ignoring the jeers hurled at him. The Stampede slides under the bottom rope, climbs to his feet and flips back the hood on his cloak, metal mask glinting in the flashing lights. MANSON slips out of his cloak and thrusts his crooked baseball bat in the air. Referee Johnny Dangerously takes the cloak and moves it to a corner of the ring. The lights return to normal for just a moment before plunging into darkness again.

 

BOOM!

 

Pyrotechnics explode around the stage, launching a cloud of red and gold stars to the ceiling as "Street Fighting Man" cranks over the speakers. The lights come back to full strength, pulsing to the beat, and Austin Sly emerges from behind the curtain to a hail of boos.

 

"Everywhere I hear the sounnd of marching, charging feet boooooy..."

 

"Cause summer's here and the time is right for fighting in the street boooooy"

 

"Hey, King, where's MANSON?" Mak asks.

 

"Uh-oh. Sly is in trouble," King says.

 

"I can't see how we keep that psychopath employed. He's a danger to everyone in this building, not just the wrestlers," Mak says.

 

"Introducing the next opponent, from Saint Louis, Missouri, he weighs two hundred, thirty-seven pounds and represents Revolution Zero, AAUUUSTIN SLYYYY!" Funyon shouts.

 

Sly walks down the ramp and just notices the absence of Mr. OSITY. Austin stops midway and scans for his opponent. Sly isn't helped as the lights dim once more. The sound of marching feet and chanting voices pounds through the arena.

 

Doom!

 

Doom!

 

SYLLABICATE!

 

Doom!

 

TRIPTYCH!

 

DERMATITIS!

 

Doom!

 

The lights snap back on to reveal druids surrounding the ring and MANSON, bat in hand, standing above Austin Sly. Boots Randolph's "Yakety Sax" blares over the speakers and Jimmy the Doom races down the ramp.

 

"And finally, being accompanied by Lois the Unethical, from Doomopolis, Doomtopia, he weighs two hundred, thirty pounds and is the current and longest reigning Hardcore champion, the Straight-Bread Sensation, JJJIIIIIMMMMMMYYYY THE DOOOOOM!" Funyon roars.

 

Jimmy leaps at MANSON, limbs akimbo, and wraps the King of Braves up in a body scissors. Lois the Unethical tentatively steps out, then races down the ramp to avoid the action. She hands the belt to Funyon and takes a seat, eager to catch up on some quality nap time. Due to falls counting anywhere on the planet, Dangerously calls for the bell and races towards the competitors.

 

Ding! Ding! Ding!

 

Doom adds a bearhug to MANSON, but isn't doing much in the way of actual damage. MANSON leaps into the air and falls forward, smashing the Straight-Breader into the ramp.

 

FARINACEOUS!

 

Doom quickly rolls MANSON over, slides off the scissors, and rises to his feet, bringing the God Machine up as well. Jimmy lifts MANSON, pivots, and drives him down with a belly to belly slam.

 

INCOMMUNICADO!

 

"We haven't seen Jimmy in action in recent weeks, but he doesn't appear to be suffering any ring rust," Mak says.

 

"How can you tell? His strategy has always been to let his opponent get tired by smashing him in the head, and then finish the match with something idiotic. If he goes down to a DDT then we'll know he was rusty," King says.

 

Jimmy gets to his knees and drives a forearm into MANSON'S chest. Doom pops the Stampede with another shot to the chest, then cracks him in the face. Jimmy takes two fistfuls of MANSON'S hair and slams the back of his head into the ramp.

 

TUMESCENCE!

 

Jimmy begins to pull MANSON up for another slam, but the King of Braves digs both thumbs into Doom's eyes, causing the champ to release him. MANSON slides back a few feet and smacks Doom with a boot to the jaw. MANSON scrambles to his feet and snatches up the previously discarded baseball bat. As Doom shakes off the blow, the Raging Bull steams forward and bashes him with the bat.

 

OPPROBRIUM!

 

"My God! MANSON nearly took Jimmy's head off!" Mak shouts.

 

"I'm with you Mak. MANSON is my God now," King says.

 

MANSON stands over Doom and cracks him with the bat again as Sly clambers to his feet.

 

PANACEA!

 

The Stampede lifts the bat again, but Austin stumbles forward, slapping on a rear waistlock. Sly pops his hips and drives MANSON into the ramp with a suplex and bridges up for a pin attempt.

 

MALEDICTION!

 

One!

 

 

 

 

T-No!

 

"Kick out from MANSON, and maybe Sly can get some revenge on him for that sneak attack," Mak says.

 

"Don't kid yourself, Mak. Sly has no chance of surviving another encounter with MANSON. And I don't mean surviving with a win, I mean remaining alive," King says.

 

Sly gets to his feet, wrestles the bat out of MANSON's grasp, and cracks him in the ribs with it. Sly then goes low, nailing MANSON in the left knee with the bat. Austin flings the bat down the ramp and pulls the Savage Messiah to his feet. Sly smacks him with a right hook, only for MANSON to respond with a punch of his own. MANSON fires off another punch, then an elbow that sends Austin stumbling backwards. The Raging Bull gives chase and knocks Sly down with a Yakuza kick.

 

PANEGYRIC!

 

"See, Mak? Told you so," King says.

 

"MANSON is taking it to Sly, but I've never known Austin to give up without a fight. Besides, how many times has Jimmy the Doom stayed down for long?" Mak asks.

 

"Eight hours every night," King says.

 

"Sleeping doesn't count, King," Mak says.

 

The Doomtopian rises to his feet and lunges for MANSON as the God Machine stalks after Sly. Jimmy catches him with a shotei, causing Mr. OSITY to wheel around, nailing the champ with an elbow.

 

FRIPPERY!

 

MANSON nails Jimmy with a right hand, then a left, but Doom grabs MANSON'S wrist. Jimmy laces a kick into the Stampede's ribs, then whips him up the ramp. MANSON turns around and catches a corkscrew elbow from the Hardcore champ.

 

SEMAPHORE!

 

The Straight-Breader gets some room with a double palm thrust, then leaps at MANSON, right foot extended. Jimmy plants the sole of his boot on the God Machine's chest and shoves him backwards. The King of Braves stumbles as he reaches the edge of the stage, but momentum is a cruel mistress, and MANSON takes a tumble.

 

TENDENTIOUS!

 

"Holy shit! MANSON just fell well over twenty feet! He could be seriously injured!" Mak yells.

 

"I didn't think it was possible for a mortal to injure MANSON. Anyway, this has broken the match wide open for Doom to retain, or possibly for Sly to pull off an upset," King says.

 

Dangerously peers over the stage at MANSON sprawled out on the ground, but the match must continue. Jimmy backs away and walks down the ramp as Sly gets to his feet. Austin charges and nails Doom with a clothesline.

 

CNIDARIAN!

 

Sly boots Doom in the head, then peels him off the ramp. Austin bends Jimmy double, hooks both gangly arms, and drops down with a DDT. Sly flips the Doomtopian onto his back and makes a lateral press.

 

UNGULATE!

 

One!

 

 

 

 

Two-No!

 

"Doom gets a shoulder up, and he might be shaken after what happened to MANSON. Jimmy's taken only other other person off the stage if memory serves, but that was The Crimson Skull and it was to save Lois the Unethical. I know Doom enjoys being a champion, but I don't think he wants to seriously hurt anyone to stay that way," Mak says.

 

"Then he's a hippie loser," King replies.

 

"That's a bit harsh, King. Doom has been a bit rough at times, but his track record has never shown him to be overly sadistic or violent," Mak says.

 

"I know, like I said, hippie loser. For God's sake, Francis, a damn figure skater has more blood lust than he does! Actually, that wouldn't be a half bad match: Tanya Harding versus Jimmy the Doom in a metal pipe thing on a pole match. Of course, Harding hasn't been relevant for years," King mutters.

 

Sly picks Doom up again, and once more, bends the champ double. Austin slaps on a standing headscissors, wraps his arms around Doom, and lifts the Straight-Bread Sensation. Austin breaks into a sprint and drives Jimmy into the ground, sitting out for a pinning combination.

 

PAUCITY!

 

One!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Three-No!

 

"Doom kicked out! Sly doesn't break out that running sit-out powerbomb often, but it almost gets the win when he does. Of course, against Jimmy the Doom, not many moves have taken care of him," Mak says.

 

"Hit him with a car!" King shouts.

 

"I guess you aren't content with one person being injured in this match," Mak says.

 

"No, not a real car. I mean one of those die-cast Hot Wheels cars. A few of those in a sock, and baby, you've got trouble," King says.

 

Sly screams at Dangerously over the speed of the count, but Johnny doesn't buckle (So that's why his pants keep falling down). Austin turns his attention back on Jimmy and drags the champ to the edge of the ramp. Sly pulls Doom towards the ring, then scrambles to the apron. Austin checks over his shoulder to make sure Doom's in place and MANSON isn't flying towards him, then springs onto the top rope. Sly flips off and crashes down onto empty concrete.

 

JABOT!

 

"Austin Sly just crashed and burned on the Sky Surfer as Jimmy managed to roll out of the way just in the nick of time!" Mak shouts.

 

"Hey! Now as an Irish-American, I find that offensive!" King screams.

 

"What are you talking about?" Mak asks.

 

"That slur you used. 'Mick' is hurtful, Mak. As an African-American, I thought you'd be more sensitive to such issues," King says.

 

"I am, and King, I said 'nick' of time," Mak explains.

 

"Oh. That makes more sense. Also, I actually German and English," King says. "Just wanted to cause some controversy."

 

Jimmy slowly pulls himself up and shakes his head clear. Doom yanks Sly off the ground and launches him into the ring steps, dislodging them.

 

JITNEY!

 

Doom walks towards Austin, picks him up and plants Sly with a choke-lift powerbomb.

 

DILATORINESS!

 

One!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Thr-No!

 

"Jimmy Bomb only gets a two count for the champ, and it looks like he's put knocking MANSON off the stage out of his mind for the time being," Mak says.

 

"If he wants to keep his title he'll do the same to Sly and pin one of 'em," King says.

 

"No, that's what you would do if you wanted to keep a title," Mak says.

 

Jimmy reaches down to grab Sly, but Doom gets nailed in the crotch. The champ stumbles away, allowing Austin the space and time to get to his feet. Sly pops Doom with a European uppercut, then ducks his head and wraps Jimmy in a front waistlock. Austin thrusts his hips and drives Doom into the ground, bridging for a pin.

 

DIBBLE!

 

One!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Three-No!

 

"Northern Lights suplex almost won the title for Sly, but Jimmy is resilient as ever," Mak says.

 

"Sly should put Doom on the ground then put the ring steps on top of his arms so Jimmy can't get his shoulders up," King says.

 

"Sounds odd, but it would probably work," Mak says.

 

"Of course it would work, I'm a genius at this stuff!" King shouts.

 

"As evidenced by your sole World Heavyweight title reign," Mak points out.

 

Sly pulls Jimmy to his feet as MANSON rolls onto his stomach and crawls a few feet towards the ring. Austin presses Doom against the side of the ring and cracks him with a forearm.

 

JOCOSITY!

 

Jimmy rears back and smacks Sly with a headbutt as MANSON continues to slowly drag himself to the ring.

 

KAPOK!

 

Doom pops Austin with a palm to the jaw, then nails him with a roundhouse kick.

 

DIAPASON!

 

"Austin Sly doesn't want to get in a striking battle with Jimmy the Doom unless he plans on getting his face rearranged. Not many people can stand toe to toe with the Doomtopian for long and come out the victor," Mak says.

 

"Maybe that's because there haven't been many people named Vic in this federation," King states.

 

Sly eats a shotei but buries a fist in Doom's gut, doubling him over. Austin slaps on a facelock and drops.

 

KIBITZER!

 

Austin flips Doom over, hooks his leg, and makes a lateral press.

 

One!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Three-No!

 

"Doom gets his shoulder up again! Sly might want to try for that sit-out powerbomb again or maybe the So-Cal," Mak says.

 

"Or that stair thing I said earlier," King says.

 

Sly pulls Jimmy back up as MANSON pulls himself closer and closer to the ring. Austin grabs for Doom's head, but the Straight-Bread Sensation snakes out his right hand, jabbing Sly in the throat. Sputtering, Austin staggers backwards. Doom reaches out, spins Austin upside down then rightside up and drops to one knee. Jimmy takes hold of Sly's hair and slams him to the ground as MANSON drags himself up onto the ramp.

 

DIATHERMY!

 

"Doom Factor from the champion! This might be it," Mak says.

 

"Hold the phone, Francis, MANSON is back on the ramp," King points out.

 

"Holy crap, how'd that happen?" Mak wonders.

 

"You really doubt MANSON? He is magic, after all," King says.

 

The Hardcore champ rolls Sly over, but before he makes a cover, he spots the Stampede clambering to his feet. Jimmy shoves Austin under the ring and sprints towards the King of Braves. Unable to run, let alone jog, MANSON power walks down the ramp, right arm outstretched.

 

"MANSON setting up for the Iron Cutting Sword, that devastating lariat, but he doesn't have much speed," Mak says.

 

"So? MANSON doesn't need to be sprinting for the Zantetsuken to destroy someone," King says.

 

Jimmy leaps in the air, arms and legs stretched wide. Doom wraps his extremities around the Raging Bull, the impact knocking him over.

 

KISMET!

 

The Doomtopian clasps his wrists and crosses his wrists, squeezing tight on the Savage Messiah. Grimacing in pain, MANSON pounds his fist into the cold steel of the ramp, catching Dangerously off guard. The ref finally realizes the Savage Messiah has submitted and calls for the bell.

 

Ding! Ding! Ding!

 

"Ladies and gentlemen, the winner, and still Hardcore champion, the Straight-Bread Sensation, JJJJIIIIMMMMYYY THE DOOOOOM!" Funyon roars.

 

"How did he just win?" King asks.

 

"Well, MANSON landed on his back, and he had some strong arms pressing into his spine," Mak says.

 

"Yeah, but Jimmy the Doom isn't allowed to win with a submission hold," King says. "You know, because he's Jimmy the Doom."

 

Doom rises to his feet, takes Lois by the hand and heads up the ramp as "Yakety Sax" blares. Medical personnel rush to check on MANSON as a video for Maddix versus Clark versus Dangerous plays.

[Ace309 0]

Francis: “As we continue on here with 13th Hour, we are going to show you footage from a match that took place before we went on the air tonight. It was Jay Hawke facing Zyon to determine the number one contender to the SWF International Championship.”

 

King: “And it was a fantastic match, the matches between these two usually are.”

 

Francis: “Indeed it was. Due to time constraints, we are only able to show highlights of this match. But we need to warn you. The footage you are about to see is very disturbing, particularly near the end of the contest. With that in mind, we take you to the footage.”

 

 

*EARLIER TONIGHT*

 

Funyon: “The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a 30-minute time limit, and it is to determine the number one contender to the SWF International Championship.”

 

 

DING DING DING!

 

Francis: “There’s the bell, and we are underway!”

 

The two competitors lock up. Zyon uses leverage to take Jay Hawke over with an arm drag takedown.

 

 

They lock up again. Zyon takes Jay Hawke over with another arm drag takedown. Hawke quickly gets to his feet, but Zyon catches him with a dropkick to the face that sends Hawke tumbling to the outside.

 

King: “That’s a break for Hawke. That will allow him to get a breather.”

 

As Hawke reaches his feet, Zyon flies over the top rope, landing onto Hawke with a picture-perfect pescadoe.

 

 

“YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!”

 

Francis: “There’s no such thing as a breather when you’re in the ring with Zyon! He’ll come at you from any angle you can think of, and possibly a few you haven’t!”

 

 

Zyon spins in the air, leveling Hawke in the face with his boot.

 

Francis: “Spinning wheel kick, snapping Hawke’s neck back, and he goes for the cover!”

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

Francis: “Kickout!”

 

King: “Much too early to get a pin over a guy like Jay Hawke this early!”

 

 

Francis: “Snap suplex, and Zyon quickly into the pin!”

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

Kickout.

 

Francis: “And again only the count of two.”

 

King: “A couple of pin attempts in the past minute or so, but for a shot at the International Championship, Hawke’s going to have to almost die to get beat in this one.”

 

Zyon quickly drops an elbow across Jay Hawke’s chest, then stands up and backflips onto his prone opponent’s chest.

 

Francis: “Standing moonsault, and another cover!”

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

Kickout.

 

King: “But still far too early in the match to put him away.”

 

 

Zyon goes for a suplex, but Jay Hawke drives a knee into the midsection. He fires off a chop to the chest…

 

 

“WHOO!”

 

 

…then whips Zyon into the ropes on the opposite side. The Dean of Wrestling attempts to backdrop Zyon over the top rope to the floor, but Zyon lands on the apron. Jay Hawke celebrates as Zyon climbs up to the top rope, and as Hawke turns around, he’s met square in the face with two feet courtesy of a missile dropkick.

 

 

“YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!”

 

 

Zyon whips Jay Hawke into the turnbuckle. He charges, but Hawke catches Zyon, lifts him into the air, and drops him face first onto the top turnbuckle. Zyon drops to the mat, and his eyes roll into the back of his head.

 

Francis: “Desperation move by Jay Hawke there, and that might turn the tide of this match in his favor.”

 

 

Jay Hawke takes Zyon down with a swinging neck breaker and goes for the pin:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

Kickout.

 

 

Jay Hawke stands on the middle turnbuckle, waiting for Zyon to make his way to his feet. Zyon turns around, and Hawke leaps, flipping forward in the air and taking Zyon down with the neck breaker.

 

Francis: “Blockbuster by Jay Hawke, and he goes for the pin!”

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

Kickout.

 

Francis: “And only the count of two.”

 

King: “Unusual strategy from Jay Hawke. Normally the focus is on the shoulder, but ever since the modified Hotshot into the corner, the focus has been on the head and neck.”

 

 

 

 

Jay Hawke whips Zyon into the turnbuckle, but quick as a cat, Zyon runs up the turnbuckle and takes off, landing on his opponent with a beautiful corkscrew moonsault.

 

Francis: “No Regard!”

 

King: “Aptly named too! He has no regard for his body or his opponent’s!”

 

 

Zyon clotheslines Jay Hawke over the top rope and to the concrete floor.

 

King: “I’d say this is a chance for Jay Hawke to take a breather, but he proved me wrong earlier!”

 

And in fact, Zyon climbs up to the top rope. He leaps, but Jay Hawke moves out of the way, causing Zyon to hit the metal guardrail face-first.

 

Francis: “Oh no!”

 

Somehow Zyon is still on his feet, but a roundhouse kick to the face changes that. Zyon hits the ground hard, the back of the head smacking it to a sickening thud.

 

King: “Man, what a kick.”

 

Zyon tries to pull himself to his feet, but his eyes look completely glazed over as he slumps back to the floor.

 

Francis: “He’s hurt.”

 

 

Jay Hawke rolls Zyon into the ring, hanging his head and neck over the ring apron. The Dean of Wrestling steps up onto the apron, then jumps off of it, dropping a leg across the head and neck.

 

Francis: “Across the head and neck again, and I think Zyon might have a concussion.”

 

King: “And the referee has the ability to stop the match if he thinks Zyon is unable to defend himself. Obviously he doesn’t feel he’s at that point yet.”

 

 

Jay Hawke pulls Zyon to the center of the ring, and he sets him up in a standing head scissors. He then picks him up, holds him upside down for a few seconds, and then drops down, driving Zyon’s head into the mat with a piledriver.

 

Francis: “Another shot to the head! Come on, referee, stop the match!”

 

Jay Hawke moves into the cover.

 

King: “Don’t worry. Jay Hawke’s going to take the decision out of the referee’s hands.”

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

Shoulder up.

 

Francis: “Only a count of two, and that fighting spirit of Zyon might be getting the best of him here!”

 

 

With Zyon barely standing, Jay Hawke gets a running start and takes Zyon down with a running knee lift. Zyon looks like he doesn’t know where he is as Jay Hawke goes for the pin again:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

Kickout.

 

 

“YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!”

 

King: “The crowd might be cheering for Zyon kicking out that one, but it’s instinct. There’s no way he has any idea where he is right now.”

 

 

 

 

Jay Hawke charges a staggering Zyon, but Zyon catches him coming in with a super kick.

 

 

“YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!”

 

Francis: “Is that the move that turns the tide?”

 

King: “We’ll find out, Mak!”

 

 

Zyon holds his head as he attempts to climb to the top rope. He stands on the top turnbuckle, then stumbles, falling to the concrete floor.

 

Francis: “That’s it. Stop the match.”

 

The referee moves in to see if Zyon is able to continue, but Jay Hawke shoves him out of the way. He locks the unique youth into a front face lock, and after a few seconds, he drops him down on his head.

 

Francis: “My God. What a DDT.”

 

King: “And I don’t want to alarm you, Mak, but the last time Hawke executed that particular DDT, Insane Luchador missed several months of action.”

 

Jay Hawke moves in for the cover.

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

THREE!

 

 

DING DING DING!

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

Funyon: “In 11 minutes and 49 seconds, the winner of the match, and the number one contender for the SWF International Championship … JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY HAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWKE!”

 

 

As the trainer takes a look at Zyon’s eyes, Zyon begins to pull himself to his feet, only to stumble into the ropes. The crowd begins to applaud Zyon, respecting the effort he put forth despite clearly being loopy.

 

*LIVE*

 

Francis: “That was earlier tonight, and according to reports we heard earlier tonight, Zyon apparently does have a concussion, but we’re not sure of the severity at this point.”

 

King: “Simply put, if it’s a minor concussion, Zyon might be out a week to ten days. If it’s more severe…who knows how long he might end up being out of action?”

 

Francis: “As it goes though, Jay Hawke is now the number one contender to the International Championship, and should Alan Clark not win the World Title tonight, Hawke will get the next shot at it.”

 

King: “And if Clark does win the title, Hawke wins it by forfeit, right?”

 

Francis: “We’d have to hear from Tom Flesher on that, but we still have more great action to come before we can even get to that point.”

[Ace309 0]

“I’m standing here with the Fabulous Jakey,” says Ben Hardy. “Who, in just a few moments, will be competing against Wildchild in a rematch for the SWF World Cruiserweight Championship! Now Jakey, you took exception to having to face Wildchild last month, only six days after winning the World Cruiserweight Title. Do you expect things to be any different here tonight?”

 

“Not only do I expect things to be different,” says Jakey. “I’m going to guarantee it! Wildchild stole the belt from me last month! I wasn’t given time to prepare! But tonight, it’s going to be different: tonight the World Cruiserweight Championship is going back where it belongs… around MY waist!”

 

With that, the Fabulous One walks off, his nose turned up in the air. “A very confident challenger on his way out to the ring!” says Hardy. “King, Mak, back to you!”

[Ace309 0]

FADE IN

 

“And there you have it,” says Mak Francis. “Having heard comments from champion and challenger, we’ve got a tremendous matchup on our hands, as Wildchild will defend the World Cruiserweight Championship against the former champion, the Fabulous Jakey!”

 

“And I’ve got to agree with what Jakey said, too,” adds the Suicide King. “It was completely unfair of him to have to defend against the Wildchild, just a week after winning the championship! And not only was it his first defense, but it was the first time that he’d ever been in the ring against Wildchild! But now that he’s had some time to prepare, and has actually been in the ring against Wildchild, he knows what to expect, and I’m predicting that Jakey will win back the World Cruiserweight Title right here tonight!”

 

“He’s definitely got a long night ahead of him, as he faces the standard bearer for the Cruiserweight Division!” shouts Mak. “Let’s go to Funyon in the ring!”

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

“The following contest,” says Funyon, “is scheduled for one fall… and it is for the SWF WORLD CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP!”

 

The arena becomes enshrouded in red and pink lights and a generic techno beat pumps through the speakers as the challenger makes his way out onto the stage, resplendent in a bright pink sequined robe.

 

“Making his way towards the ring,” says Funyon, “from Minneapolis, Minnesota, and weighing one hundred sixty pounds, here is the challenger: the FAAAAABULOUS JAAAAAKEY!”

 

“Jakey with a big grin on his face as he makes his way to the ring,” says Mak. “And I can’t help but wonder whether or not he’s still going to be smiling at the end of this match!”

 

“Well, I’ll say this,” replies King, “we can expect to see a much different result than we had last month. Jakey’s had time to study tape, he’s had time to game plan, and I think – like I said before – we’re going to see history made here tonight!” Jakey strides up the steel ring steps and saunters across the apron, turning to face the fans, who greet him less than warmly:

 

 

JA-KEY SUCKS (DICK)!

JA-KEY SUCKS (DICK)!

JA-KEY SUCKS (DICK)!

JA-KEY SUCKS (DICK)!

 

 

“There don’t appear to be many Jakey fans here in the Dominican,” notes Mak.

 

“Definitely not,” agrees King, as Jakey removes his robe. “This is about as partisan a crowd as you can get! I mean, it’s nowhere near as biased as that crowd was back in the Bahamas last week, but it’s obvious that Wildchild is immensely popular all over the Caribbean!” As Jakey leans back against the turnbuckles, the enthusiastic Dominican fans begin cheering wildly as the arena lights dim and fade to black:

 

 

ATTENTION!

 

 

ALL YOU NIGGAZ!

 

ALL YOU BITCHES!

 

TIME TO PUT DOWN THE CRISTAL, TIME TO TAKE OFF THE ICE FOR A MINUTE…

 

 

TIME TO THROW A LITTLE MUD IN THIS MOTHERFUCKA…

 

 

Redman’s “Let’s Get Dirty” whips the fans into a frenzy as the Caribbean Cruiser bounds onto the stage! In between the alternating flash of the white-hot spotlight, the Bahama Bomber can be seen holding his title overhead inciting the fans to cheer ever louder, before jogging down the ramp, slapping hands with fans at ringside as he makes a beeline for the ring.

 

“His opponent,” says Funyon, as Wildchild somersaults into the ring, “is accompanied to the ring by Melissa Fasaki! From the Bahamas, weighing two hundred fourteen pounds, he is the reigning… AND DEFENDING… SWF World Cruiserweight Champion… the WIIIIILDCHIIIIILD!” Wildchild rolls gracefully to his feet and glances sideways towards Jakey before walking confidently over to the edge of the ring, where he leaps onto the middle turnbuckle and holds his arms high overhead as Reggie Noble screams:

 

I CAN’T GET IN DA CLUUUUUUB!

 

“King, there’s a very fine line between confidence and recklessness,” says Mak, “and Wildchild seems to walk that line, just like the tightropes he used to balance on as a circus star, every time he gets into that ring! And that style has served him very well since coming to the SWF!”

 

“That may be true, Francis,” concedes King. “But, I’ll tell you what: the Fabulous Jakey, as I said before, has had time to prepare for this. This match isn’t going to be sprung on him like it was last month, when he found out less than forty-eight hours after winning the World Cruiserweight Championship that he was going to have to defend it on the very next show! I’m standing by my prediction; we’re going to see a very different result here tonight!”

 

“I’m not so sure of that,” says Mak, as WC runs over to the nearby corner and deftly leaps onto the top turnbuckle in one fluid motion. “This young man is such a difficult opponent to prepare for; he is truly one of a kind! And King, he’s all offense; he’s not much in the way of defense… But he’s going to try and go full blast from the opening bell, and I don’t know whether Jakey will be able to handle that kind of offensive pressure!”

 

“Well, there’s definitely a danger of letting Wildchild get into a groove,” says King, as WC backflips his way back into the ring, “because he may be the best frontrunner in the SWF today! But, being an all-offense guy can work against you, too: if Wildchild makes a mistake, Jakey can capitalize on it, and win his title back!” WC hands his Championship belt to referee Ronald “Red” Herrington, who holds it overhead to display to the fans before handing it to the departing Funyon; he then motions for the timekeeper to ring the bell, signifying the start of the match:

 

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

 

“Bell’s gone,” shouts Mak, “and we’re underway!” WC and Jakey meet in the center of the ring for a collar-and-elbow tie-up, which Wildchild immediately takes advantage of, shifting behind Jakey into a waistlock. Jakey, however, remembers what happened last month when he was in this predicament, and immediately responds by delivering an elbow to WC’s head to break the hold, and then quickly turns to face his opponent.

 

“Nice anticipation by Jakey,” notes Mak. “How many times do you think he watched the tape of their last match?”

 

“Well, everything that I hear about this kid is that he studies his losing matches intensely to try and figure out where he makes his mistakes, so I’d say quite a few.” Wildchild and Jakey meet once again in the center of the ring. This time, Jakey takes control with a side-headlock; Wildchild backs him against the ropes and pushes him across the ring. Jakey knocks him down as he rebounds and runs back towards the edge of the ring again, but this time, WC greets him as he bounces off the ropes with a Japanese-style armdrag! The Fabulous One pops back to his feet, only to get taken over in a hiptoss! Wildchild waits for Jakey to get back to his feet, before scooping him up off the canvas and planting him back down with a scoop slam! He immediately leaps off the canvas and extends his right leg to crash down into Jakey with a legdrop, and the rolls away from Jakey and onto his stomach, fluidly getting back to his feet as he hops back off the canvas, this time stretching out his left leg to hit a second straight legdrop! This time, Wildchild rolls atop Jakey and applies a lateral press, as Herrington dives into position to count:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

Jakey kicks out at two, and then rolls out to the arena floor, leaning against the ring barricade to gather himself. Fans surrounding the barricade give the Fabulous One the business, as Wildchild salutes everyone else by giving the high sign for the Wild Ride:

 

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

 

 

“Jakey made a couple of nice adjustments to start off this match,” notes Mak, “but the Wildchild showed that he can change it up as well!” Jakey climbs back into the ring and locks up with Wildchild. They lock up again, and the Jakey gets the better of it with a kneelift to the midsection. He tilts WC’s upper body upright, and then delivers a blistering open-hand slap to his chest!

 

“There you go!” cheers King approvingly. “Jakey going to the rough stuff early… and I hope he keeps it up!” Jakey backs Wildchild into the ropes, keeping him off-balance with another couple of kneelifts, and then grabs him by the wrist to whip him across the ring. The Fabulous One lowers his shoulder to lift Wildchild into the air as he bounces off the ropes with a back-body drop, but WC adjusts himself in midair and lands on his feet behind his opponent; Jakey turns around just in time to get taken off his feet with a beautiful deep armdrag!

 

“As you know, I’m not a big fan of high-flying in wrestling,” says King, “but if there’s one good thing that I can say that I like about Wildchild’s offense, it’s that he’s recently gotten a lot better about not wasting movement; he’s really starting to show some maturity, in that every now and then, the way he mixes up his high-flying with very basic wrestling holds. And even when he goes to the top rope nowadays, he’s a lot more patient; he doesn’t just go up there for the sake of being up there anymore.”

 

Jakey negotiates his way back to his feet, and then backs Wildchild against the ropes; he grabs Wildchild by the wrist and whips him across the ring. Jakey hooks his arm underneath Wildchild’s as he bounces off the ropes and sends him over in a hiptoss… but WC lands on his feet and scoops the surprised Jakey into his arms! Wildchild slams Jakey down to the canvas, but the Fabulous One hooks his arm behind Wildchild’s legs as he comes down, and rolls him into an inside cradle!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

Wildchild kicks out at two! Jakey beats WC to his feet and takes him back over with a snapmare, following up immediately with a stiff punt-like kick to the spine! Jakey grabs WC by the back of the head and pulls him to his feet; he then traps Wildchild in a front facelock, before lifting him overhead and slamming the Champion back down with a snap suplex! Jakey floats over into a cover:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

Wildchild kicks out at two! Jakey pulls WC to his feet and grabs him by the wrist, whipping him across the ring into a neutral corner; he charges into the corner after the Champion…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

But slams into the turnbuckles as the Bahama Bomber steps out of the way!

 

“Jakey missed on that attack in the corner!” shouts King. “And the Wildchild catches him!” Wildchild slams a quick forearm into Jakey’s midsection as he turns around, and then follows it with a second and a third! Wildchild chops Jakey on the bridge of the nose, and then delivers an overhand chop to the top of his head, before grabbing Jakey on both sides of his face as he pulls his head back…

 

 

CRACK!

 

 

… And blasting the Fabulous One with a headbutt that sends him tumbling out to the arena floor!

 

 

“Wow!” exclaims Mak. “Jakey got things off to a nice start, but Wildchild has turned this match around in a hurry!” WC runs across the ring, picking up speed as he bounces off the ropes, and leaps off the canvas as he approaches the edge of the ring on the opposite side; Jakey, anticipating the aerial attack, ducks away to safety, but the Caribbean Cruiser puts on the brakes at the last minute, grabbing onto the top rope and swinging safely to the apron. Jakey rushes at WC to try and clip his legs out from under him, but the Human Hurricane flips backwards off the apron to land on his feet behind Jakey…

 

 

CRACK!

 

 

… And then smashes the Fabulous One in the face with a spinning wheel kick as he spins around!

 

 

“Good Grief!” exclaims Mak, as WC slams Jakey face-first into the hard rubber barricade. “That was unbelievable! That was some Matrix-type stuff there!” WC quickly dives back into the ring, somersaulting to his feet in one fluid motion and charging across the ring; he leaps into the air and sails over the top rope…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

... Crashing into Jakey with a spectacular Senton Splash that crushes the challenger between WC’s body weight and the barricade! Wildchild rolls over the top of Jakey and into the crowd, where appreciative Dominican fans pat him on the back…

 

 

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

 

 

“Unbelievable!” shouts Mak. “That was one of the most amazing sequences that I’ve ever seen!” Wildchild pulls Jakey off the arena floor and rolls him underneath the bottom rope. WC then climbs onto the apron and races over to the nearby corner. He leaps effortlessly to the top turnbuckle before diving down into the ring to drill Jakey between the eyes with a flying fistdrop! He hooks the leg as he applies a lateral press:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

Jakey kicks out at two! Wildchild pulls Jakey to his feet and leads him over to the corner, where he bashes Jakey’s face into the top turnbuckle! The Tropical Tumbler quickly leaps to the top turnbuckle as Jakey staggers out of the corner; WC then jumps onto Jakey’s shoulders from behind and locks his ankles behind the challenger’s head as he pitches forward, taking Jakey down with a phenomenal headscissors takeover variation! WC doesn’t even give Jakey a moment’s recovery time before he pulls Jakey to his feet and traps him in a front facelock; he then reaches down to grab the near leg and immediately takes Jakey over with a snap suplex! WC gets to his feet and returns to the apron, climbing up to the top rope and quickly leaping back into the ring…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… Smashing into Jakey’s forehead with a suicide headbutt! WC covers him again:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THR— NO!

 

 

“I’m starting to think that Jakey wasn’t quite ready for this!” says King, as WC pulls him back up and scoops him up into a slam. “I don’t think he did his homework on this guy!” The Bahama Bomber quickly backs into the nearby corner and pulls himself up to the middle turnbuckles before leaping back towards the Fabulous One, blasting him with a flying fistdrop! WC tries to cover him again:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

KICKOUT!

 

 

 

 

“Nice to see that Jakey still had presence of mind to kick out of that,” says Mak. “That was also some good ring awareness to kick out at one!”

 

“Definitely,” agrees King. “You never want to take a chance with that three-count if you’re capable of kicking out at one, especially with as incompetent as Herrington has been here lately!” WC pulls Jakey to his feet and grabs him by the back of the head, leading him over towards the edge of the ring, and then leaping over the top rope as he slams the Fabulous One’s neck into it with a Macho Man neck snap!

 

“Devastating neck snap by WC!” praises Mak, as WC climbs back onto the apron. He leaps off the turnbuckle and drills Jakey between the eyes with a flying double-axe handle. “Wildchild has this match firmly under control… but why hasn’t he gone for the cover?”

 

“He’s making a big mistake, in my opinion, says King. “He’s being very nonchalant about his opponent here, as if he believes that he can just turn it on every time he wants to.”

 

“And, as we’re seeing in the NBA Playoffs, that doesn’t always work,” says Mak. WC pulls Jakey to his feet, but the Fabulous One stuns him with a rake of the eyes; he then scoops the Champion up, but Wildchild begins flailing his arms and legs, and Jakey can’t maintain his balance, falling backwards with WC atop him for an impromptu cover!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

Jakey kicks out at two! Wildchild pulls Jakey to his feet and whips him across the ring, stunning him with a spinning boot to the midsection as he bounces off the ropes; the Cruiserweight Champion suddenly flips backwards, swinging his leg overhead and smashing Jakey in the top of the head with a reverse Koppou Kick!

 

“Tremendous bicycle kick by the Wildchild!” praises Mak. “But, once again, he doesn’t go for a cover, and that’s got to be a mistake!”

 

“It’s a huge mistake,” adds King. “He’s going to pay the price for his hubris, mark my words!” Wildchild grabs Jakey by the wrist and whips him hard into the turnbuckles; WC lowers his head as Jakey staggers out of the corner and takes him up into the air with a back-body drop! The Fabulous One rolls onto his knees and begins begging off as Wildchild approaches him.

 

“Jakey looking for a little bit of a timeout,” says Mak, as Wildchild draws nearer to his opponent. Jakey suddenly surges forward and stuns Wildchild with an eye rake! Jakey whips Wildchild into the ropes, but the Bahama Bomber leaps into the air explosively as he rebounds, knocking Jakey off his feet with a flying shoulder tackle! WC runs back towards the edge of the ring, and Jakey bellies out as he bounces off the ropes; the Fabulous One scrambles back to his feet and catches Wildchild in a bearhug as he rebounds a second time, before falling back…

 

 

THWACK!

 

 

… And clotheslining Wildchild on the top rope with a Hot Shot!

 

 

“Tremendous move by Jakey!” shouts Mak, as Jakey gets back to his feet and runs to the ropes, leaping into the air as he rebounds, and bringing his full bill-and-six-dimes crashing down onto Wildchild’s chest with a double stomp! Jakey collapses atop him and applies a cover:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

Wildchild kicks out at two! Jakey looks over at the referee and implies a slow count. Wildchild tries to fire back with an overhand chop to the head, but Jakey kills his momentum quickly by burying a knee to the midsection! Jakey then shifts behind Wildchild and traps him in a waistlock; the Fabulous One pops his hips as he falls backwards to take Wildchild over in a German suplex, but the Bahama Bomber counters by flipping through the suplex attempt and landing on his feet! Before Jakey can even react, WC leaps off the canvas and crashes down onto his forehead with a diving headbutt! The fans begin cheering again as WC goes for a cover:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

Jakey kicks out at two!

 

 

“Wildchild still appears to be controlling the pace of this match,” notes Mak, as WC pulls Jakey to his feet, “but, since the opening moments of the match, he hasn’t really done much to exert his will over Jakey.”

 

“It’s almost like he’s wrestling defensively,” says King, “which is definitely not to his strength; he’s trying to wrestle not to lose, rather than to wrestle to win!” Wildchild pulls Jakey to his feet, but the Fabulous One counters into an arm wringer, and then quickly pulls the Champion backwards into a Russian legsweep! He then runs to the ropes, springing into the air as he bounces off and drills Wildchild in between the eyes with a running knee! Jakey goes for another pinfall:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

BUT ONLY GETS TWO!

 

 

“Another near fall for Jakey,” says Mak, “as it appears that Jakey has found his stride in this match!” Jakey pulls Wildchild to his feet and delivers several crisp forearms to the chest, before running back towards the edge of the ring and leaping onto the second rope; the Fabulous One springs back into the ring to deliver a flying forearm smash, but WC still has presence of mind to duck out of the way! Wildchild meets Jakey as he gets to his feet with quick right hands!

 

 

BAP!

BAP!

BAP!

BAP!

 

Wildchild backs Jakey into a corner and then whips him across the ring towards the other corner, but Jakey reverses, sending Wildchild rocketing into the corner…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… Where he crashes chest-first into the turnbuckles at an unbelievably high velocity! Wildchild bounces off the turnbuckles like a jet ball and collapses onto his back! Jakey staggers over to his opponent and falls atop him with a pinfall attempt:

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THREE— NO!

 

 

“Two-count only,” says Mak, “but Jakey seems to be getting stronger with each passing move, and those kickouts are becoming less and less forceful on the part of the Wildchild!”

 

“That tends to happen when you get your man worn down,” explains King. “Now, we’ll need to see whether or not Jakey has the killer instinct to extend this advantage.” Jakey lifts WC overhead into a vertical suplex position and takes a few steps away from the ropes, but instead of falling backwards, Jakey drops Wildchild forward onto the top rope, letting him bounce off before lifting him back overhead and driving him down to the canvas with a Slingshot Suplex!

 

“Slingshot Suplex, nicely executed by Jakey,” remarks Francis, as Jakey twists his hips to roll onto his knees, whilst still maintaining control of the front facelock. “And it looks like he may be going for a second one!” Instead of going for another suplex, however, Jakey swings his arm from on top of WC’s neck in the front facelock position, to underneath his chin, and then suddenly brings it up sharply…

 

 

SMACK!

 

 

Blasting the Bahama Bomber with a European uppercut! Jakey raises his arm as he whips around suddenly, smacking Wildchild in the face with a spinning backfist and then, with his back to the Bahama Bomber, whipping around…

 

 

CRACK!

 

 

… And spiking WC in the face with a roundhouse kick! Jakey lays Wildchild flat and applies a cover:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THR— NO!

 

 

“Two-count only!” shouts Mak, as Jakey glares at the referee. “Boy, was that close!”

 

“That was close,” agrees King angrily. “There appeared to be some hesitation on Red Herrington’s part on that count!” Jakey grabs WC’s lower body and hooks his hands underneath Wildchild’s legs as he rolls the Champion onto his back and into a Boston Crab!

“Boston Crab!” reports Mak. “We could get a submission right here!” Red Herrington asks Wildchild if he wants to submit, but the Bahama Bomber shakes his head and squawks a negative response.

 

“Wildchild’s trying to fight his way out of the Crab,” says Mak, “but I don’t think that he’s going to make it!” Wildchild flops about the canvas as if he had a broken wing, but is unable to free himself. Eventually, the flopping subsides.

 

“And Wildchild isn’t usually vulnerable to these kinds of submissions,” says King, “but maybe Jakey’s done enough damage to actually be hurting Wildchild with this hold!” Wildchild plants his palms against the canvas, surprising Jakey as he pushes himself up a few inches as he tries to scoot closer to the edge of the ring.

 

“Look at this!” exclaims Mak, as Wildchild pushes himself up a second time. “Wildchild’s making a move towards the ropes!” WC reaches out towards the ropes, but is nearly a full arm-length short, and realizes that he’s going to have to make one more push.

 

“He’ll never make it,” insists King. Jakey tenses his body to try and make his weight more difficult for Wildchild to move, but the Bahama Bomber shifts his body to tilt towards the right as he pushes himself up, taking Jakey off-balance as he makes one more desperate push towards the ropes…

 

 

Six more…

 

 

Three more…

 

 

Two more…

 

 

ONE MORE!

 

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

The fans cheer excitedly as Wildchild gets his fingers around the bottom rope! Red Herrington orders Jakey to let go, but the Fabulous One takes every bit of his five-count before finally letting go!

 

“He made it,” says Mak, “but how much does he have left?” Jakey drags Wildchild away from the ropes and begins delivering a grueling series of kneedrops between WC’s shoulder blades! He then rolls Wildchild over onto his back and applies a lateral press:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

 

 

NO! WILDCHILD GETS THE SHOULDER UP!

 

 

“This Wildchild is tough!” marvels Francis. “I thought that he was done there, for sure!” Jakey pulls Wildchild to his feet, but the Bahama Bomber stuns him with a rabbit punch to the midsection!

 

“And look at Wildchild fire back!” shouts Mak, as WC delivers another shot to the midsection. Wildchild with a chop to the chest, followed by a headbutt which staggers the Fabulous One! Wildchild runs towards the edge of the ring…

 

 

CRACK!

 

 

… But Jakey raises his arm as he quickly spins around, blasting Wildchild in the face as he bounces off the ropes with a ferocious rolling elbow smash!

 

“Big elbow by Jakey!” shouts King. “That could just about do it!” Jakey pulls Wildchild back to his feet and whips him towards a nearby corner, racing to the ropes as Wildchild staggers backwards towards the center of the ring, and leaps into the air as he rebounds, reaching for Wildchild’s neck to hit him with a running neckbreaker, but WC sidesteps him! Wildchild whips his leg through the air as Jakey turns around to deliver a roundhouse kick, but the Fabulous One catches his leg in mid-move…

 

 

CRACK!

 

 

… Only for the Bahama Bomber to whip his other leg through the air and blast Jakey in the face with a Gamengiri! Wildchild stands with his back to Jakey and springs off the canvas, crashing down onto his chest with a backflip splash!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

BUT ONLY GETS TWO!

 

 

“Boy, I thought that Wildchild had him after that Gamengiri!” says Mak. “These two continue to go back and forth, and you have to wonder who will be able to come away with the win!” Wildchild pulls Jakey to his feet, but Jakey slips out of his grip and maneuvers behind him, lifting him overhead and slamming the Champion down onto his outstretched thigh with an Atomic Drop! The challenger then pulls WC’s hair from behind to trap him in an inverted front-facelock…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… And drops to the canvas, slamming the back of Wildchild’s head into the mat with a reverse DDT!

 

“Reverse DDT!” shouts Mak. “That could be huge for the challenger!”

 

“Well, Jakey’s had some great opportunities in this match,” says King, “but you have to wonder what it’s going to take for him to reach that next step and regain his title… You know, Jakey likes to utilize some of the more fast-paced offensive moves, which he really can’t do against Wildchild. And, as we saw earlier, Wildchild’s flexibility makes it difficult to beat him with most submissions… He’s proven to be vulnerable to a hard-hitting move, but Jakey doesn’t really have a lot of hard-hitting offense!”

 

“That’s a great point, King,” agrees Mak. “Jakey’s entire battle plan tends to revolve around hitting the Jumping Jakey Flash, that DDT variation of his!” Jakey traps Wildchild in a double-underhook and then pops his hips as he falls backwards, taking the Bahama Bomber over with a Butterfly suplex!

 

“Hey, give credit to Jakey!” praises King, as Jakey returns to a sitting position, still favoring his elbow. “A lot of guys would have stopped fighting when Wildchild started to make his comeback, but Jakey stuck it out and regained control of the match!” The Fabulous One gets to his feet and heads over to the nearby corner.

 

“Why isn’t he going for the cover, though?” asks Mak, as Jakey begins to climb up the turnbuckles.

 

“Obviously he doesn’t feel like he’s done enough to put Wildchild away,” replies King, “and he’s going to try and put the finishing touches on this match!”

 

“But, by going to the top rope?” asks Mak incredulously. “I think this is a mistake, King!”

 

“Not if he hits it!” The Fabulous One crosses his arms overhead to taunt the fans…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… And the Bahama Bomber suddenly gets to his feet, leaping onto the turnbuckles besides Jakey, grapevining his left leg as he grabs him in a side headlock, and falling backwards to slam Jakey into the canvas with a Russian legsweep! WC quickly rolls to his feet and hops off the canvas, crashing down across Jakey’s throat with a legdrop before finally collapsing exhaustedly.

 

 

RAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

“Big desperation move by the Wildchild!” exclaims Mak. “He caught Jakey being overconfident, and now he’s got a chance to turn this match around!” Red Herrington begins to deliver a ten-count to both men:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

THREE!

 

 

“It’s anybody’s match at this point,” reflects King. “The next guy that hits a big move will probably win it!”

 

 

SIX!

 

 

SEVEN!

 

 

EIGHT!

 

 

Jakey sits up wearily! He crawls over to Wildchild and collapses atop him for a cover:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

Wildchild kicks out at two! Jakey pulls Wildchild to his feet and grabs him by the wrist, whipping him across the ring; he hangs onto WC’s arm and follows him into the ropes, greeting him as he rebounds with a kneelift to the midsection! Jakey whips Wildchild across the ring a second time, and buries another knee into his abdominal area as he comes off the ropes! Jakey then pulls WC away from the ropes and grapevines his near leg, and tries to hook a side headlock in order to apply a Russian legsweep, but the Bahama Bomber reaches across with his far arm to punch the Fabulous One in his belly! It takes a second belly punch, and then a third, before he can finally get free, and then Wildchild stuns him with a headbutt! WC then runs to the ropes, but Jakey sidesteps him as he rebounds and applies a waistlock; he pushes Wildchild across the ring and into the ropes, before pulling him backwards into a rolling cradle!

 

 

“Rolling cradle!” shouts King. “This could be it!”

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

Wildchild pushes Jakey off of him and into the ropes, scrambles behind him and hooks inside his leg as he staggers back and pulls him backwards into a schoolboy pin!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THR— NO!

 

 

 

 

Jakey kicks out at two and then beats Wildchild to his feet, smacking him in the face with a forearm smash that seems to hurt him more than his opponent; he does succeed in stunning Wildchild, though, and Jakey takes advantage to whip him into a nearby corner. Wildchild adeptly leaps onto the middle turnbuckle and springs back into the ring, body extended to deliver a cross-body block, but the Fabulous One catches him in midair, rolling through and reversing into a pinning predicament!

 

“Excellent counter!” exclaims King, as Herrington dives into position to count:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

 

 

NO!

 

 

 

 

“Wildchild came within an eyelash of being pinned there!” shouts Mak. “Boy, I thought Jakey had him!” Jakey pulls Wildchild to his feet and leads him over to the nearby corner; he grabs him by the back of the head to ram it into the top turnbuckle, but the Bahama Bomber gets his foot up on the middle turnbuckle to block it! He then counters by grabbing Jakey by the back of the head and slamming him face-first into the top turnbuckle! He grabs Jakey by the wrist and whips him across the ring, following him into the corner and leaping off the canvas, twisting in midair as he crushes Jakey against the turnbuckles with a Blue Crush! Wildchild runs to the ropes as Jakey staggers out of the corner and grabs him by the head as he leaps into the air…

 

 

BANG!

 

 

… Driving him face-first into the canvas with a bulldog!

 

“Oh my goodness!” shouts Mak. “Wildchild has suddenly put it all together here!” WC quickly exits to the apron and climbs up to the top turnbuckle.

 

“He’s going for the Bird Dropping!” shouts King. “If he hits this, it’ll be tough luck for Jakey!” Before WC can take flight, however, Jakey rolls out of the ring to safety.

 

“Give credit to Jakey for having the presence of mind to get of the way of the Bird Dropping,” says Mak, as WC drops to the apron, and subsequently to the floor. “But look at Wildchild; he’s going after him!” Wildchild catches up to Jakey and spins him around, smashing him in the face with a hard right hand!”

 

BAP!

BAP!

BAP!

BAP!

 

Wildchild grabs Jakey by the wrist and whips him across the arena floor towards the steel stairs!

 

 

CLANG!

 

 

… But Jakey reverses, sending WC into the stairs instead!

 

 

“That was a big, big reversal by Jakey!” shouts King. “That could be the turning point!” Jakey pulls Wildchild up and rolls him underneath the bottom rope back into the ring; he then gets back up onto the apron and launches himself over the top rope, hooking WC as he sails into the ring with a slingshot Oklahoma Roll!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

Wildchild kicks out at two! Jakey pulls WC up and traps him in a front facelock, twisting his body around and driving the Champion into the canvas with a swinging neckbreaker! He floats over for another cover:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THR—NO!

 

 

“Another close count for Jakey,” says King, “but you can tell that he’s on the verge now!” Jakey whips Wildchild into the corner and takes his time to follow in after him; he talks a little trash to the Champion, and then delivers a humiliating slap, following it up with a series of stomps to the midsection. Jakey grabs WC by the wrist and whips him across the ring towards the opposite corner, but the Bahama Bomber leaps into the air as he approaches the corner and lands on the middle turnbuckles; in less than the second it takes Jakey to close the distance, WC springs backwards into the ring, crashing into his opponent with a flying cross-body block!

 

… But Jakey reverses, pulling Wildchild into a cover! Herrington dives into position to make the count:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

“BEAUTIFUL reversal by Jakey!” praises King.

 

“But Jakey has the tights!” shouts Mak.

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

“Jakey has the damned tights!”

 

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

 

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

 

A shocked silence falls over the arena. Wildchild sits up and looks at the referee incredulously, but Herrington holds three fingers up to indicate the three-count; Jakey rolls out of the ring and heads over towards the timekeeper’s table, where he snatches the World Cruiserweight Championship away from the timekeeper and clutches it lovingly to his chest.

 

“I can’t believe it!” exclaims Mak. “What a terrible miscarriage of justice!”

 

“Unbelievable win by the Fabulous Jakey!” exclaims King. “A terrific counter at the end seals the deal, and Jakey has made history down here in the Dominican Republic!”

 

“Terrific counter?” shrieks Mak. “He held the tights!”

 

“It doesn’t matter!” crows King. “If the ref don’t see it, it’s legal!”

 

“A very unfortunate turn of events for the Wildchild,” says Mak, as Herrington exits the ring to raise Jakey’s hand in victory. “However, as the Suicide King said, it will stand in the record books; we’ve got a new World Cruiserweight Champion, and his name is the Fabulous Jakey! Let’s get the official word!”

 

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

 

“The winner of this contest,” says Funyon, “and… NEEEEEW World Cruiserweight Champion… The FAAAAABULOUS JAAAAAKEY!” Jakey’s techno-inspired theme begins to play as the new Champion looks into the ring, taunting the former champion with the belt.

 

BOOOOOOOOOO!

 

 

“A tremendous win for the Fabulous Jakey in his first-ever Pay Per View match,” says King. “And he did it in what has to arguably be considered to be Wildchild’s home turf!” Jakey makes his way back up the ramp, still gloriously celebrating his win, leaving a dejected Wildchild in the middle of the ring…

 

 

As we:

FADE OUT

[Ace309 0]

“Some matches are about simple competition, some matches are about pride, some matches are about titles,” Mak Francis says, “some matches are even about hatred… but I don’t think that the match coming up is about anything except spite, King. Toxxic may have reopened the enmity between himself and Gabriel Drake with that practical joke a few weeks ago on Storm, but my reading of that whole thing is simply that the Straight-Edge Sensation just wanted an excuse to have another crack at The Beast.”

 

“Amazingly, I think you might be right,” the Gambling Man replies. “Toxxic’s loss to Drake in December may have started him down the right path again, but the effect it’s had on his career has been notable. Why else hasn’t the former World Champion had a rematch?”

 

“Well, that might be partially down to Tom Flesher,” Mak suggests.

 

“I won’t hear a word said against our Commissioner!” King snaps, “he’s been doing two jobs since the board sacked Peters, and do you hear him complain?”

 

“It’s hard to hear him say anything over the chinking of his double paycheck,” Francis replies sourly, “but that’s besides the point. What we have coming up next is a clash of styles, a clash of attitudes and even a clash of form - Toxxic took a cheap loss to Zyon but has otherwise got back into form, beating Danny Williams at From The Fire and rolling through Jimmy The Doom and then teaming with Austin Sly to take down the team of Insane Luchador and JRR since then. Overall the Straight-Edge Sensation is more reliable and more consistent than his larger opponent, but Drake still came out on top last time they faced each other and has the undeniable psychological edge of being the first man to pin Stephens in eighteen months.”

 

“-and still the only man to pin him in singles competition in two years,” King puts in. “Make no mistake Francis, what we’re going to see tonight is a wrestling classic that will disgrace every other match on the card.”

 

As King trails off the insidious guitar of Rob Zombie’s ‘The Devil’s Rejects’ starts to ring out around the arena and an eerie blue light fills the place, painting everyone present in ghostly shades. The Smarktron starts to show clips from The Beast’s debut promos until on the first jangling chord Drake reaches out and grabs what is apparently the camera with a sneer on his face, then throws it into the wall as the main part of the song kicks in. The crowd know what’s coming…

 

“JAIIIIIIIIIIIL-BIRD…”

 

“JAIIIIIIIIIIIL-BIRD…”

 

…or at least they think they do, but then smoke starts to billow across the soundstage…

 

“JAIIIIIIIIIIIL-BIRD…”

 

…and rising out of the floor…

 

“JAIIIIIIIIIIIL-BIRD…”

 

…face framed by his black hair with white highlights…

 

“JAIIIIIIIIIIIL-BIRD…”

 

…comes the figure of Gabriel Drake.

 

‘I am the bad one

Distant and cruel one

I am the dream that keeps you running…’

 

“Well, that’s a new one,” Mak Francis comments as The Beast stares menacingly around at the crowd before starting to make his way down the entrance ramp towards the ring.

 

“It’s a Pay-Per-View, there’s no point doing things by half measures,” Suicide King points out. “Besides, Drake could be about to become the only person to get two pinfall victories over Toxxic since…” he tails off, thinking.

 

‘Down with distractions

Violent reactions

Scars of my actions, watch me running out!’

 

“Drake might be inconsistent, he might be unreliable, but that also makes him unpredictable,” Mak Francis says as Drake swipes a ‘NEUTER THE BEAST’ sign from a fan in the front row and rips it up, “and an opponent who can’t be predicted is very difficult to plan for. You never know if you’re going to get the Gabriel Drake who lost to the Insane Luchador, or the Gabriel Drake who ended Michael Stephens’ World Title run and took Alan Clark apart in the ring under our noses. And that’s assuming he turns up at all,” the Franchise adds, “but it looks like that option is out for Toxxic here tonight.”

 

‘HELL DOESN’T WANT THEM!

HELL DOESN’T NEED THEM!

HELL DOESN’T LOVE THEM!’

 

Drake jogs up the ring steps to the apron, wipes his feet and then swings his legs through the ropes to enter the squared circle. Referee Brian Warner and Funyon both step to one side to keep out of the big man’s way as he crosses to the far side of the ring to glower down at the crowd.

 

‘The Devil’s Rejects…

 

The Devil’s Rejects…

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is a British Rules match,” Funyon booms. “The match is won by scoring two falls via pinfall or submission, however failing to answer the referee’s ten count at any point in the match will result in an automatic loss! Introducing first, from Athens, Georgia,” the veteran ring announcer continues, “he weighs in tonight at 254lbs; this is ‘The Beast’, GAAAAAAAAAAAAABRIEL… DRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAKE!!”

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

The booing of the fans drowns out Rob Zombie for a few seconds, but then the music fades out and all eyes (Drake’s included) turn towards the sound stage. Moments later every light in the arena hits full and the Smarktron whites out…

 

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

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

 

…and the rolling bassline of ‘The Gush’ by Raging Speedhorn starts to ooze out of the speakers as the Smarktron starts to quickly fade down to black. Jagged white letters flash up the familiar slogan, one word at a time:

 

‘PREPARE TO BE PROVED WRONG…’

 

Three chords ring out. On the first, Michael Stephens gets knocked off the top rope to the floor below by a Nathaniel Kibagami springboard enzuigiri. On the second, he gets taken off the top rope with the Mark Of The Beast by the man waiting for him in the ring. And on the third, he gets chokeslammed out of the 2007 Clusterfuck by Janus. Then, as the bass solo hits the shot changes to show him taking Mike Van Siclen off a balcony and through a table with the Stephens Shock Syndrome, the shot starting to strobe and intercut with an image of his grinning face, the devastating landing timed to coincide with-

 

*BOOOM!!*[/b][/b]

 

-the moment the song kicks in, and the stagewide eruption of red pyro that signals the arrival of the SWF’s most decorated Englishman! And through the flame and smoke…

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

…lopsided grin already plastered over his face as he looks down at the ring…

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

…eyelinered and nail-polished but looking none the less dangerous for all that as he adjusts his black-and-red canvas trenchcoat over his England soccer shirt…

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

…comes the man they call Toxxic.

 

“And his opponent,” Funyon booms, “from Nottingham, England! He weighs in tonight at 218lbs and is the leader of Revolution Zero… he is the ‘Straight-Edge Sensation’… TOXXXXXXXXX-IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIC!!”

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“You come up with anyone yet, King?” Mak asks, remembering that the Gambling Man had a point a couple of minutes ago.

 

“No,” King admits, “unless one of those clowns Wild & Dangerous pinned Toxxic instead of Sean Davis at the start of 2005 when they stole the tag titles from Revolution Zero, I don’t think anyone’s pinned Toxxic twice!”

 

However, despite his great record the Straight-Edge Sensation doesn’t have time to do his normal showboating tonight, as Gabriel Drake has slid out of the ring and is charging up the entrance ramp towards him! Toxxic quickly slips out of his trenchcoat and ducks under Drake’s swing, then as The Beast turns back towards him he starts peppering the bigger man with right hands!

 

“Drake wants to get going early, but Toxxic was ready for him!” Mak shouts as the Englishman unloads, clearly relishing the prospect of throwing down with his former friend again. “Toxxic started slowly in their last match, but that’s not an issue tonight!”

 

Sure enough, Toxxic has Drake off-balance and follows up by delivering a huge European uppercut that staggers The Beast backwards, then grabs his opponent’s wrist and hauls on it to whip Gabe into the steel guardrail that lines the ramp!

 

*CLANG!*

 

Drake lets out a yell of pain as he connects back first, but there’s no remorse in Toxxic as the straight-edger charges straight at him to clothesline him over into the seating area beyond… only for Gabe to duck his head at the last moment before bridging back up, sending Toxxic flying over the guardrail instead with a back bodydrop!

 

“HO-LY SHIT!”

 

“HO-LY SHIT!”

 

Security swarms the area to keep the fans back as Toxxic lies on the ground clutching his back; Gabriel Drake hops over the guardrail (not without a wince) and advances on Toxxic with a nasty grimace on his face, clearing not appreciating the shots to the head he’s already taken in this match. The big man hauls his smaller opponent up and grabs him in a Muay Thai clinch before driving a knee lift into the Englishman’s face, then grabs Toxxic’s wrist and whips him into some nearby chairs, scattering fans as he does so!

 

*CRASH!*

 

“JAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIL-BIRD…”

 

“JAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIL-BIRD…”

 

Drake ignores the chants that arise around him and follows up on his opponent, eager not to give Toxxic any chance to recover. He grabs the straight-edger and shoves him roughly back into the guardrail, then picks up a steel chair and snaps it shut. The Beast weighs it in his hands for a moment, then turns round and swings for Toxxic’s head… but the Englishman dodges, and Drake only hits the railing!

 

*CLANG!*

 

Before Gabe can set himself for another swing Toxxic has leapt into the air, and the Straight-Edge Sensation whips his foot round to connect with the back of his opponent’s head in an enzuigiri. Drake drops the chair and staggers away, not knocked off his feet but certainly knocked loopy for a few seconds, and as the security team work on keeping the crowd away from the action Toxxic grabs the chair his opponent dropped. He measures Drake, waiting for the bigger man to turn back towards him, then breaks into a run…

 

…vaults off a chair left upright by a fleeing SWF fan…

 

…and dropkicks the chair he was holding straight into Drake’s face!

 

*CRACK!*

 

“HO-LY SHIT!”

 

“HO-LY SHIT!”

 

“In-Flight Meal!” Mak Francis shouts as Toxxic’s version of British Airways touches down, “Toxxic normally ties his opponent up in the ropes for that, but I guess he decided to improvise!”

 

Gabriel Drake was knocked over by the impact and the Beast is now struggling to pull himself upright on the guardrail. Toxxic gets back to his feet and helps his former friend up, but only to pitch him over the rail into the ringside area, then hop over to follow him. In the ring Brian Warner is yelling at the two men to bring it inside, but Toxxic ignores the ref in favour of grabbing Drake by his hair and ramming The Beast’s head into the ringpost!

 

*CLUNK!*

 

Drake staggers away with a faint trickle of blood now starting to snake down his forehead; Toxxic looks to follow up and grabs his opponent’s wrist before Irish whipping the bigger man towards the ring steps, but some instinct of Drake’s kicks in and the Athenian reverses the momentum to send Toxxic into the steps instead!

 

*CRASH!*

 

Toxxic hit backfirst and collapses to the floor - Drake wipes his forehead, looks at the smear of red with a sneer and then hoists Toxxic off the protective mats before rolling him into the ring. The Beast follows him a second later…

 

*DING-DING-DING!*

 

…Warner calls for the bell while he has the chance, and a moment later drops down to make a count as Drake covers Toxxic and hooks the leg!

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TW-

-but Toxxic kicks out just before Warner’s hand can find the mat for the second time. Gabe snarls in anger and drags Toxxic up into a sitting position, then stands over the Englishman and starts firing forearm shots down into his chest.

 

“What a quickfire start to this match!” Mak Francis exclaims as Drake drives the wind from his opponent’s lungs with each blow, “these two are just going all out from the start here tonight!”

 

Drake finishes his hammering of his opponent and lets Toxxic slump forward to all fours, then heads over to one corner of the ring and begins removing the turnbuckle pad. Brian Warner hurries forward to stop him but Drake shoves him away and rips the pad off, then hurls it out into the crowd so that no-one will be able to recover it. Warner remonstrates with The Beast, who ignores him and stalks back towards the Straight-Edge Sensation. Drake drags Toxxic to his feet and Irish whips his opponent towards the corner which he has just deprived of its top turnbuckle pad, but before he can slam into it Toxxic leaps up to the top rope, balances there for a moment and then twists back through the air to take Drake down with a corkscrew dropkick! The big man hits the mat hard, and after a second Toxxic curls his legs up under his chin and then kips up explosively!

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

“Is it too much to hope that the crowd will start appreciating the virtues of at least one of these fine athletes?” the Suicide King asks, looking around.

 

“Probably,” Mak admits.

 

“Morons.”

 

Toxxic takes a step to the left (but doesn’t follow up with a step to the right, or pelvic thrusts to drive you insa-a-a-a-a-ane), then backflips to come down with a standing moonsault on top of his grounded opponent. Warner dives to count…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…but Drake recovers his wits and his breath, and powers Toxxic off the cover to send him flying a couple of feet through the air! The straight-edger gets up immediately but instead of going straight back onto the attack he steps through the ropes out to the apron and takes hold of the top rope, waiting for Drake to rise.

 

“Toxxic isn’t any stranger to powerful opponents,” Mak comments, “after all, he faced Danny Williams at From The Fire.”

 

“And beat him,” Suicide King puts in, “you forgot that part.”

 

Gabriel Drake gets back to his feet and starts looking around for his opponent, wondering where Toxxic has gone, but his question is answered all too soon as Toxxic leaps to the top rope and springboards off to come flying into the ring with a hurricanrana! The momentum of the move sends Drake rolling across the mat and out underneath the bottom rope to the arena floor, while Toxxic picks himself back up and pauses for a moment to stop the room from spinning. However, the Englishman is eager to remain on the offensive and as Brian Warner launches into his ring-out count Toxxic gather that his opponent is on the outside and locks on to The Beast as Drake starts to stand again. The Straight-Edge Sensation jumps up and down a couple of times to loosen up, then turns and charges for the ropes behind him, bounces off and accelerates across the ring before leaping into the air over the top rope…

 

…and crashing into Drake with a somersault senton!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“Toxxic putting his body on the line again to take the fight to his opponent,” Mak points out, “say what you like about both these men, and I will, but neither of them lacks commitment or determination.”

 

The crowd were cheering more on general principle of the high-risk move rather than because they particularly like the person doing it, but there are a few scattered cheers of ‘TOXX-IC!’ in the immediate vicinity as the straight-edger starts to haul himself upright. It’s clear that the landing wasn’t particularly kind to him, but being crushed under 218lbs of aerial Englishman was even less kind to Drake and The Beast lacks the breath to muster much resistance as Toxxic brings him up into a front facelock. Toxxic takes a deep breath and tries to judge distances, then leaps up…

 

…takes two steps along the ring apron…

 

…and swings back off to spiral down and drag Drake headfirst into the protective mats with an improvised Tornado DDT! That gets another half-cheer from the crowd, who can recognise decent invention when they see it, although a fair few still jeer the British straight-edger as he gets back to his feet and rolls into the ring. Brian Warner, who’s already reached ‘two’ on his latest ring-out count, glares at Toxxic for interrupting the first one with his trip over the top rope but probably figures that at least the Englishman has come back inside now.

 

‘THREE!’

 

Gabriel Drake starts to push himself up off the mats and shakes his head vaguely to try and lose some of the cobwebs. The protective mats helped a little, but that was still concrete underneath…

 

‘FOUR!’

 

Drake wobbles up to one knee and reaches out to grab the guardrail with one hand to steady himself, gritting his teeth in annoyance as an over-eager fans pats his arm encouragingly. The Beast wipes a little more blood from his head and tries to rise further but a wave of pain stops him momentarily.

 

‘FIVE!’

 

Drake manages to focus himself and staggers up to his feet, then turns to check his surroundings. He notices Toxxic in the ring and grimaces; he’s in no doubt that his enemy will attack him once he re-enters the squared circle, but at least he knows where Toxxic is now…

 

‘SIX!’

 

Drake feints forward, and notes that Toxxic starts to move forward, ready to ambush him. Drake reaches out to try and hook his opponent’s legs but Toxxic simply stamps down at his hands, causing Gabe to pull them back. He turns away, looking to enter the ring from another side…

 

‘SEVEN!’

 

…and then turns back to quickly roll in under the ropes, hoping to catch Toxxic off-guard. The straight-edger had indeed lost some alertness, thinking Drake was going to head round to another side, but he still manages to pile in and start firing off kicks before The Beast can regain his feet. Despite Brian Warner’s warnings the Englishman continues his assault and brings Drake up to his feet, then fires off two thunderous European uppercuts to his former friend before grabbing Gabe’s wrist and Irish whipping him towards the far ropes. The Beast reverses the momentum and sends Toxxic into the cables instead, but the Englishman explodes back off them and leaps up to ensnare his opponent with a headscissors that sends Drake tumbling away to end up in sitting position in the corner of the ring.

 

“Well King, this is certainly starting differently to their affair at the end of last year,” Mak comments.

 

“Yes,” the Gambling Man agrees, “then Drake was simply overpowering Toxxic; this time the Straight-Edge Sensation is using his speed to keep himself out of harm’s way. For the moment.”

 

Toxxic gets back to his feet and sees Drake slumped in the corner, so he simply charges straight in and jumps into the air the last moment to deliver a basement dropkick to his opponent’s head! Sitting against the turnbuckles as he is Drake’s head has nowhere to go, and with The Beast apparently stunned Toxxic drags him out away from the ropes and makes a cover…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…but Drake kicks out, although not with such an ostentatious display of power this time. Toxxic doesn’t want to give his opponent any time to rally his thoughts and manages to haul Drake up towards a vertical base again, but this time as he grabs a front facelock some instinct clicks inside The Beast and Drake wraps his arms around Toxxic’s waist even as the Englishman starts to hold his right arm out for the Unfinished Business, and the straight-edger finds himself hoisted off the mat and driven backwards at speed into the turnbuckles!

 

*WHAM!*

 

“That’s the corner Drake took the pad off earlier,” Mak shouts in realisation, “although to be honest I think he just headed for the nearest one!”

 

Toxxic certainly realises it though, a spasm of pain crossing the straight-edger’s face; it’s not alone either, as Drake gathers his thoughts and then proceeds to slam his shoulder into his opponent’s midsection twice more for good measure, just to tenderise a few ribs and knock some breath out of the Englishman. Brian Warner steps in to try and make The Beast back off, and amazingly Drake complies. However, it seems to only be for a few seconds as he catches his breath and shakes off the last of the dizziness from the bout of headshots he’s received, then the steps back in and hauls Toxxic away from the corner, bends him over and applies a double underhook. A nasty smile crosses the big man’s face for a moment, not at the impact of the upcoming move itself but more what it means…

 

*BANG!*

 

“Overheard butterfly suplex,” Mak Francis calls, “and you can bet Drake learned that one in Atlanta.”

 

Now moving easier again, Gabriel Drake gets back to his feet and cocks an elbow ready to drop it into the centre of Toxxic’s chest; however, he’s too casual and the Englishman manages to roll aside at the last moment. That doesn’t stop Drake though; he rubs at his elbow for a second, but lunges and grabs Toxxic before the straight-edger can get to his feet, then drives a knee up into his opponent’s ribs. Toxxic is lifted off the mat by the force of the blow and Drake steps around to the side of his opponent, then starts setting him up for a Russian leg sweep. Toxxic starts battering at the back of Drake’s head with his left fist however, and the impacts are enough to throw The Beast off his game long enough for Toxxic to break free, then drive his forehead into Drake’s with a sickening crunch that sees the bigger man stagger. Toxxic staggers too but turns it into running for the ropes and rebounding into the attack… only for Drake to scoop him off his feet, manhandle him through the air and drive him down into a tilt-a-whirl backbreaker!

 

“JAIIIIIIIIIIL-BIRD…”

 

“JAIIIIIIIIIIL-BIRD…”

 

Gabe pauses momentarily to flip off the nearby fans whilst mouthing something about ‘here’s a bird for you’, but the big man seems more amused than annoyed by their chants.

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

With the crowd up in arms against him again Drake laughs and drops into a cover, bringing Brian Warner down to the mat alongside him…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…but Toxxic kicks out! Drake grunts and immediately starts lifting Toxxic back to his feet, then simply shoves the Englishman into the corner with the removed turnbuckle pad again. The impact isn’t that hard, but hard enough to knock a little more breath from Toxxic and keep him there long enough for Drake to move in and start hammering at his chest with chops!

 

*SMACK!*

 

*SMACK!*

 

*SMACK!*

 

*SMACK!*

*SMACK!*

*SMACK!*

*SMACK!*

*SMACK!*

*SMACK!*

 

Angry red welts start to rise on Toxxic’s pale chest almost the moment Drake’s offence ceases; The Beast then just yells into his adversary’s face, some primal roar of anger and spite, before grabbing Toxxic underneath one arm and hurling him head-over-heels to the mat in what is part hiptoss and part simply manhandling.

 

“This is the side of Gabriel Drake that his opponent’s really fear,” The Franchise informs viewers, “the man is a threat simply through his wrestling ability, but the more damage he does the angrier he seems to get-”

 

“-and the angrier he gets, the more damage he does,” Suicide King finishes. “It’s a beautiful thing to witness, isn’t it?”

 

Toxxic doesn’t want to give his opponent any chance to do more damage while he’s on the mat and starts to try and struggle to his feet, but Drake makes no move towards him. Seeing this first real break in the action, Brian Warner begins his ten-count.

 

‘ONE!’

 

It doesn’t look like Toxxic is going to be counted out, because the straight-edger is already rolling over to try and get arms and legs under him, but still Drake makes offensive move.

 

‘TWO!’

 

Instead, The Beast drops down into a crouch and measures his opponent.

 

‘THREE!’

 

Toxxic starts to struggle up to a vertical base…

 

‘FO-’

 

…and Warner’s count is cut off, not just by the fact that the Englishman has regained his feet but also because Drake explodes upwards and across the ring with his shoulder lowered for a spear! Toxxic manages to sidestep at the last moment and shoves Drake away with both hands to try and ensure The Beast doesn’t change direction at the last moment; Drake manages to halt his momentum and turns around to make a grab for his slippery opponent but Toxxic takes hold of his opponent’s head in both hands, places his own skull beneath Gabe’s and sits out with a jawbreaker that sends the Athenian staggering away clutching his face! He ends up in a corner, perhaps figuring that with his back to something solid he won’t get outmanoeuvred, but Toxxic sucks it up and charges at him before Drake can set himself and the Englishman leaps into the air to paste his opponent with a leg lariat! Toxxic manages to control his rebound off the bigger man and lands on his feet on the apron, then starts to climb up towards the top rope as Drake takes an unsteady step forwards.

 

“Toxxic could be looking for the Final Shine here…” Mak speculates as the straight-edger reaches out, and it looks like the Franchise’s words could be proved true as Toxxic latches one arm around Gabriel Drakes throat in a rear facelock. Drake reacts immediately however, lashing upwards with both hands to slam them into the side of his opponent’s head, and as the impact causes Toxxic’s head to swim and his grip to slacken Drake turns around and-

 

*SMACK!*

 

“Right Hand of Gabe!” Suicide King shouts as the leaping palm strike hits home and nearly knocks Toxxic from his perch, “I think they heard that one in Nottingham!”

 

Toxxic’s brief burst of offence has come to an end again as Drake gathers himself and starts to climb the ropes with his enemy still sitting on the top buckle. Gabe reaches the first rope…

 

…the second rope…

 

…he hooks Toxxic up for a suplex and then takes another step up to the top rope, hauling the straight-edger up into a standing position along with him…

 

“This doesn’t look good!” Mak shouts.

 

…and Gabriel Drake lifts Toxxic up and over to go falling backwards and down to the canvas with a top-rope superplex!

 

*BANG!!*

 

“YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

The crowd cheers that one, partly because it was impressive and partly because both men were obviously hurt by it. Brian Warner knows his role and starts the count.

 

‘ONE!’

 

 

‘TWO!’

 

 

However, before the referee can get any further Drake manages to recover himself and rolls on top of Toxxic, then hooks the leg…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TH-

-but Toxxic kicks out!

 

“Gabriel Drake is getting closer to that first fall,” Mak Francis says, “and you’ve got to consider the psychological effects of that on Toxxic, King. Drake was the first person to pin Toxxic in eighteen months, and if he should pick up another pinfall without reply then for all the Straight-Edge Sensation’s cockiness, I think he’ll be in a world of self-doubt.”

 

“Don’t think that Toxxic doesn’t know how dangerous Drake is,” the Suicide King argues, “he’ll be prepared for this match and all the possible outcomes. At the same time,” the Heartbreaker adds, “don’t think that Drake isn’t capable of doing exactly as you suggested. We’re watching two of the SWF’s finest here-”

 

“God help us all,” Mak mutters.

 

“Please Francis, a little professionalism,” King sniffs, leaving Mak to choke and splutter in outraged astonishment.

 

Gabriel Drake was a little disappointed that the superplex didn’t get the three-count and lets Brian Warner know this, but he knows better than to get sidetracked arguing with the referee so he returns his attention to his opponent. He drags Toxxic up, slams a knee into his gut more for the sake of it than for any real need, then latches on another double-underhook. He heaves Toxxic up and over again, but this time holds on and floats over to complete the Britishplex with a pin…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TH-

-but Toxxic kicks out again!

 

“JAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIL-BIRD…”

 

“JAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIL-BIRD…”

 

“Gabriel Drake almost got that vital first fall with another Atlanta special,” Mak Francis comments, “and while Toxxic’s probably not thinking about it at the moment, if he loses this match and looks back over it, something like that will probably really eat at him. It just goes to show that for all his apparent fury Drake is smart enough to look at the long-term picture, even if only in a spiteful way.”

 

The Beast seems to be getting into his rhythm now, and Toxxic is looking less and less likely to mount a comeback. Once more he drags his opponent off the canvas and this time scoops him up to hold him horizontally across his chest; Toxxic kicks weakly but fails to do any damage to Drake or unbalance him in any way, so the big man walks around the ring at his leisure, pauses to sneer at a few fans, then suddenly arcs backwards and hurls the Straight-Edge Sensation overhead with a fallaway slam!

 

*BANG!*

 

Toxxic rolls across the ring and comes to rest looking decidedly the worse for wear; Drake gets back up to his feet and leans on the ropes, signalling for Brian Warner to start counting.

 

‘ONE!’

 

 

‘TWO!’

 

“Another good way to rub in his superiority would be for Gabe to have Toxxic beaten by the count,” Suicide King mentions, “Toxxic won the World Title at 13th Hour last year in a Last Man Standing match, so it would probably amuse Drake to have him lose to essentially the same stipulation.”

 

‘THREE!’

 

“Isn’t this the first time Toxxic’s appeared at 13th Hour and not been in a Last Man Standing match?” Mak asks.

 

‘FOUR!’

 

“Kibagami… Spike… Landon… yes, you’re right,” King confirms. “He could still go down to the count tonight though.”

 

‘FIVE!’

 

 

Toxxic is stirring, starting to push himself up. Gabriel Drake’s eyes narrow and The Beast pushes himself off the ropes, losing his relaxed air and regaining his focus. The big man shakes out his right arm apparently unconsciously, starting to flex it…

 

‘SIX!’

 

Toxxic is on one knee, still looking down at the canvas and apparently focusing more on getting upright than on his surroundings. Brian Warner continues his count as Drake readies himself…

 

‘SEVEN!’

 

…Toxxic starts to stand and Gabe starts to move, backing into the ropes for a little added momentum and then starting to hurtle across the ring with his right arm outstretched for the Shotgun lariat. However, Toxxic’s head snaps up and Drake realises too late that the straight-edger was working the count, playing possum a little to give himself more time…

 

…and Toxxic suddenly dives to the mat.

 

*CRACK!*

 

“Soccer tackle!” Mak shouts as Drake’s legs are scythed out from under him and The Beast crashes headlong into the canvas, “Toxxic managed to sucker him in!”

 

The Beast isn’t going to be stopped by that though; his blood is up and he’s in far better shape than his adversary at the moment. Heedless of the stinging pain in his shins the big man rises up to his feet and spins around to look for his enemy, just in time to see a boot flash towards his face-

 

*whap*

 

-and just in time to catch the Stephenskick before it pastes him on the jaw! Toxxic’s face registers surprise for a moment before Drake hurls the foot away and spins the Englishman on the spot, then lunges forward and grabs him around the waist before hoisting him up over his shoulder, head down towards the mat!

 

“Inverted Cross! Drake’s got him up for the Inverted Cross!” Mak shouts.

 

“But he’s not holding him!” King shouts back, and sure enough Toxxic is struggling furiously to escape. Gabe can’t maintain his grip and the straight-edger manages to slither headfirst down his opponent’s back, then roll and bring the surprised Beast over into a sunset flip pin!

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TH-

-but Drake slams both legs into the side of his opponent’s head and fires himself out of the pin at the same time! Toxxic falls backwards, head swimming again, and manages to turn over onto his front to avoid the risk of a retaliatory pin; sensible enough, but Drake has retaliation of a different sort on his mind and the big man gets back to his feet, plants a kick in his opponent’s ribs and then reaches down to force his arms underneath Toxxic to place the prone Englishman in a reverse waistlock. Drake braces his feet and hoists upwards…

 

“Wheelbarrow German!” Mak shouts.

 

…but The Beast put a little too much mustard on it, and Toxxic manages to do what he normally does when someone tries to German suplex him - he flips out and lands on his feet!

 

*whump*

 

Drake may have been wrestling professionally for less than a year but he knows from the sound that something didn’t go according to plan, so he whirls around to find out what; unfortunately Toxxic has charged desperately at him and the smaller man buries a running knee into his former friend’s gut. Drake isn’t knocked over but does double up, and this allows Toxxic to grab a double underhook, plant his feet and hoist…

 

*BANG!*

[Ace309 0]

The Straight-Edge Sensation brings Drake overhead with a perfect butterfly suplex, but he retains his grip on the landing and then rolls backwards, bringing Gabe up into a sitting position with the double underhook still applied and wrapping his legs around The Beast’s waist…

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“Repeat To Fade, Mark II!” Suicide King shouts, giving the move its full name as Toxxic wrenches back on his favoured submission hold while the crowd actually starts firing up in support of him, “Mak, I think this particular Atlanta special has found its mark on Gabriel Drake!”

 

“King, I think you’re right,” Mak agrees, “we’ve seen that Drake is perfectly capable of lifting Toxxic up bodily, so instead of going for the regular RTF II Toxxic turned a Britishplex into the seated version where Drake wouldn’t have that option! Now it’s just a case of how long Drake can hold on for, or whether he can break the hold…”

 

“TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP!”

 

“This is not an all-or-nothing fall,” Suicide King argues, “Drake can give it up here and still win, so he shouldn’t go risking serious damage to his arms and neck! Remember, this move paralysed Landon’s arms so much that he couldn’t pick himself up in that Last Man Standing match last year; I know Gabe’s stronger and more resilient, but he can’t run that risk if he wants to win this match!”

 

“I hear what you’re saying,” Mak replies tensely, watching the action as Brian Warner leans down to see if Drake wants to give it up, “but Drake’s a stubborn SOB and I’m not sure if the fans’ chanting is just going to make him even more determined not to-”

 

*DING-DING-DING!*

 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Funyon booms as Brian Warner turns and calls for the bell, “the winner of the first fall, by submission; TOXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC!! There will now be a ten-second rest period.”

 

“TOXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…”

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

“TOXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…”

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

“Well, I stand corrected,” Mak Francis says in mild surprise as Toxxic releases the hold and rolls away with a lopsided grin on his face while Drake collapses sideways and holds his arms and neck, “I was sure Gabriel Drake was going to gut it out until he couldn’t stand it any longer, but from the speed of that submission I can only assume he decided discretion was the better part of… well, hatred I guess.”

 

Drake has got back up to his feet but his arms and neck are clearly still hurting him and he glares murderously across the ring at his former friend, who grins mockingly and invites him to ‘come on’ with a flip of some black-nailed fingers.

 

“Now we’ll have to see the effect that has on Gabriel Drake,” Suicide King comments, “the guy’s talented, strong and vicious, but despite being a former World Champion he’s relatively inexperienced next to Toxxic, and he’s just lost the first fall to the man he hates most in this company. Will he hold it together, or will he lose it?”

 

“King, you can be surprisingly astute sometimes,” Mak remarks.

 

“When I like both people involved in a match, yes.”

 

*DING-DING-DING!*

 

The bell goes for the start of the second fall and Drake rushes forwards with a roar; Toxxic drops to the mat for another soccer tackle, but Gabe was clearly expecting this and pulls up sharply, then begins simply stomping away on his opponent’s ribcage. Brian Warner steps in to try and maintain order but The Beast shakes him off and continues firing away as Toxxic tries to grab his leg but fails.

 

“Drake can’t afford to be disqualified now, that’ll be the end of the match!” Mak Francis points out, and it seems this realisation dawns on Drake just before the referee was going to exercise his authority. The big man stops his assault, but instead bends down and rolls Toxxic roughly onto his front before applying a stepover toehold and reaching forwards to snare the Englishman in a facelock.

 

“STF, and Toxxic’s in a world of trouble already,” The Franchise points out, “Drake has been working the ribs and back, and while the STF is focused more on the head Toxxic will struggle to get to the ropes with the beating his midsection just took.”

 

Sure enough, although Toxxic is reaching out for the cables they’re out of reach, but it seems that perhaps Drake’s rage has led to him not considering ring positioning all that thoroughly; although the ropes are currently out of the Englishman’s grasp he is far from the centre of the ring, and as Drake pulls back on his hold it seems The Beast has realised that his adversary is not that far from salvation.

 

“TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP!”

 

The crowd have switched allegiances again, now perhaps eager to see the cocky straight-edger brought down a peg or two, and the calls for Toxxic to tap out are ringing around the arena. However, Toxxic has no intention of relinquishing his advantage yet and the Englishman grits his teeth and starts trying to claw his way towards the ropes. Drake is a heavy man, but Toxxic has both arms and one leg to propel himself across the mat, and Gabe isn’t perhaps getting quite the torque on the facelock that he’d want as his arms are still hurting from the unnatural positioning of the RTF II…

 

“I think Toxxic’s going to make it,” Mak remarks.

 

“It looks like it, but how much will it have taken out of him?” King replies. “And don’t forget, Toxxic got that fall over Drake very much against the run of the match; if he can’t assert himself on this second fall I doubt it will be long before they’re on level terms again!”

 

Drake is holding on for all he’s worth, but Toxxic scrabbles a couple of inches closer to the ropes…

 

…stretches out a hand…

 

…and manages to snag the bottom cable, bringing Brian Warner in to make Drake break the hold! The Beast seems reluctant to comply…

 

‘ONE!’

 

‘TWO!’

 

‘THREE!’

 

‘FOUR!’

 

‘FI-’

 

…and Drake releases at the last moment, prompting a golf clap from the Suicide King. Toxxic looks to get some distance by trying to roll out to the floor but Drake pounces on him and grabs the Englishman by his ankle to haul him back in, then takes hold of him by the neck and literally hoists him up to his feet before changing his grip and lifting the straight-edger bodily off the canvas before driving him down with a snap spinebuster!

 

*BANG!*

 

Drake drops into the cover and hooks the leg…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TH-

-but Toxxic kicks out, although not with a great deal of authority!

 

“FUCK HIM UP DRA-AKE, FUCK HIM UP!”

 

“FUCK HIM UP DRA-AKE, FUCK HIM UP!”

 

Gabriel Drake doesn’t seem to care that some of the crowd are now actively calling for him to damage his former friend, although of course he obliges them anyway. The big man shifts into a mount position atop the Englishman and starts raining right hands down, bringing Brian Warner in again!

 

‘ONE!’

 

‘TWO!’

 

‘THREE!’

 

‘FOUR!’

 

‘FI-’

 

-and Drake ceases his barrage a split second before the referee would have disqualified him, then flips Warner the bird just to make sure that he still knows who’s boss. Warner jabs a finger towards the SWF logo on his shirt pocket in reply and he and Drake have a heated argument for a couple of seconds before The Beast gets to his feet and hauls Toxxic up with him, then places the Straight-Edge Sensation into a front facelock. He hooks Toxxic’s arm over his neck, takes hold of his opponent’s baggy pants in one hand and lifts the straight-edger up for a vertical suplex… but Toxxic knees him in the head and the momentarily-stunned Drake allows him to drop back to his feet! The Englishman’s knees nearly buckle as he lands but he’s determined to make the most of this opportunity and reaches down to try and hook Drake’s left leg with his left arm…

 

“Caffeine Bomb!” Mak shouts, “Drake could be in trouble!”

 

…but Gabriel Drake is alert to the danger and simply thumps a right hand into his opponent’s ribs, the previous damage done meaning that is enough to cut Toxxic off in his tracks. However, the Englishman’s attempt has given Drake an idea of his own and he reaches down to hook not one but both of his opponent’s legs…

 

“Look out! Manslaughter!” King shouts as Drake rears up with Toxxic trapped atop his shoulders! The Beast’s neck doesn’t seem to be too happy taking the weight, but he grits his teeth and bears it before taking a few running steps forwards and dumping his load down backwards with the running musclebuster!

 

*BANG!*

 

“MANSLUGHTER HITS!” Mak Francis bellows, “we could be level here!” Gabriel Drake sits back up, a nasty grin on his face as he appreciates exactly how ironic it is that he’s just hit the move he calls the Manslaughter on the man whose testimony got him sent to jail for the same crime…

 

‘ONE!’

 

…and Brian Warner starts counting! Drake jerks out of his reverie and realises he still needs to even this match up, and a pin seems a surer way of doing it that going for broke with the ten-count. He turns around on the mat and throws himself across Toxxic, reaching to hook the leg…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THR-

-but Toxxic still kicks out!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“Drake took a second too long!” Mak shouts as a large part of the crowd give voice to their own appreciation of irony, “he could have tied it at one fall apiece there!”

 

Gabriel Drake is not, at this stage, a happy man. The brief warm glow he got from hitting the Manslaughter has gone, and he drags Toxxic up with a nasty glint in his eye. With the Straight-Edge Sensation looking more or less out on his feet Drake snaps off one palm strike, another palm strike, then nails a spinning backfist and hoists Toxxic up onto his shoulder in a powerslam position before the Englishman can fall over again. With Toxxic thus trapped the big man takes a few steps forward in preparation of driving his opponent backfirst down into the mat, but at the last moment Toxxic kicks his legs and manages to slither out behind The Beast; Drake turns around to try and regain control, but gets taken down to the mat with a drop toehold before finding his legs laced together and Toxxic snaking one arm under his to apply a ¾ nelson facelock!

 

“TOXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…”

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

“TOXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…”

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

“Regal Stretch!” Mak Francis shouts, “Toxxic’s got it locked in, and that’s won him more than one match before now! Hell, that hold has won him the ICTV and World Titles!”

 

“Plus it beat you,” Suicide King snipes, unable to resist an opportunity, “but perhaps more importantly in the mind-game stakes, Toxxic’s just one-upped Drake’s STF!”

 

“Not the mention the ‘Atlanta’ connotations of that move as well,” Mak nods, “these two are trying their best to throw the other one off their game, no doubt about it.”

 

Gabriel Drake is trapped; not in the centre of the ring, but too far away from the ropes for comfort. He reaches out but can’t get near them, and his one free arm doesn’t give him anything like enough traction to claw his way across the mat with Toxxic weighing him down. He struggles to get his legs free, but can’t shift his opponent.

 

“TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP!”

 

The crowd have started up their chant again but there’s no way Drake’s going to give Toxxic the pleasure of making him tap twice, especially not in quick succession with no reply. So he grits his teeth and hangs on, hoping against hope that somehow the damage he’s already done to Toxxic’s body will prevent the Straight-Edge Sensation from keeping the move applied for too much longer…

 

…surely, he has to weaken in a moment…

 

…any second…

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“He’s lost it!” Mak shouts as Toxxic suddenly releases his hold and rolls away from Drake, clutching at his ribs, “Toxxic couldn’t hold it any longer, he was probably about to start cramping up - the Regal Stretch is an unnatural position to hold yourself in for any length of time, even if you’re the one applying it!”

 

Gabriel Drake gasps as he’s freed from the punishing submission, but The Beast knows that he needs to keep moving if he is to have any chance of getting back into this match. The big man starts to push himself up, wincing as he does so, but before he can properly gather himself Toxxic grabs him from behind. The Englishman has no intention of letting Drake start to build momentum again and so he manages to secure a reverse facelock, then abruptly drops to one knee and slams the back of Drake’s neck into the other. Toxxic isn’t done there though, and with a grunt of effort he hauls his opponent back up into a standing position, then drops backwards to deliver and inverted DDT.

 

“That was the old Detoxx combination,” Suicide King notes, “haven’t seen that one in a while.”

 

Drake lies on the mat clutching at his neck and head and Toxxic clearly decides that it’s time for something a little special to try and finish this one off. Accordingly the Straight-Edge Sensation turns and heads for the corner, stepping out through the ring ropes and climbing to the top rope with a practised ease that belies the battered state of his own body. Once there he rises to his full height, raises both arms above his head and somersaults off-

 

*BANG!*

 

-to land the Hangover across the throat of Gabriel Drake! A second later and Toxxic has managed to get into position for a pin…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TH-

-but Drake kicks out!

 

“FUCK HIM UP DRA-AKE, FUCK HIM UP!”

 

“TOX-XIC!”

 

“FUCK HIM UP DRA-AKE, FUCK HIM UP!”

 

“TOX-XIC!”

 

Two chants, seemingly at war with each other, start to rise around the arena as the fans state their desire to see one or other (or both) competitors seriously injured by their opponent. Toxxic seems unhappy that his last move didn’t get the pin he was looking for and remonstrates with Brian Warner briefly as he grabs hold of his larger opponent and starts to drag Drake up to a standing position. Gabe manages to rise, but simply gets hit with a headbutt between the eyes that doesn’t do a great deal for his overall awareness… but it doesn’t do a great deal for his overall mood either, as when Toxxic turns and runs for the ropes Drake waits for him to return, then suddenly lunges into action with a sickening lariat that turns the straight-edger inside out!

 

*WHAM!*

 

“Good God, what a hit!” Mak shouts as Toxxic spins head-over-heels and come down in a heap on the canvas while Drake drops to one knee from the force of the blow, “he could have knocked Toxxic clean out there!”

 

‘ONE!’ Brian Warner shouts, apparently willing to test that theory.

 

 

‘TW-’

 

-but his count is cut off as Drake gets back to his feet, turns around and then just drops a knee into Toxxic’s face. The referee shrugs and moves back, figuring that Drake doesn’t want to chance waiting for a ten-count, and Drake proves him right and he leans down and grabs Toxxic before dragging the smaller man up. He takes hold of Toxxic’s wrist and Irish whips the Englishman into the ropes, but he ducks his head for a back bodydrop only to see Toxxic flashing by through his legs as the straight-edger launches himself into a baseball slide! Drake turns around to try and draw a bead on his opponent but Toxxic has scrambled up to his feet and ducked his head and it is Drake who gets taken up off the mat - not for a back bodydrop, but ending up with his head facing down towards the mat while Toxxic holds onto his legs…

 

“What the-?” Mak begins in surprise.

 

*BANG!*

 

“VAN SLAMINATOR!” The Franchise shouts in sheer shock as Toxxic sits out with the belly-to-back piledriver, “Toxxic used that move to beat Mike Van Siclen in their title vs. career match in late 2004! He’s really digging into his bag of tricks tonight against Gabriel Drake!”

 

Drake’s head bounces off the canvas and he comes to rest staring up at the lights; Toxxic wheezes out a breath - that wasn’t easy - then twists around and drapes himself over his opponent for the pin…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THR-

-but Drake kicks out again!

 

“LET’S GO DRA-AKE!”

 

“LET’S GO TOXX-IC!”

 

“LET’S GO DRA-AKE!”

 

“LET’S GO TOXX-IC!”

 

Whatever their opinions of the two men at the start of the match, and whatever their opinions of them might be tomorrow, the fans in attendance seem to have realised that both men are giving their absolute utmost in this match. Toxxic hammers a black-nailed hand into the mat in frustration and glares at Warner through his eyeliner; the referee remains firm and holds up the damning two fingers, so Toxxic replies with a two-fingered salute of his own and starts to haul Drake into a sitting position. The Beast seems nearly out of it but he just about remains where he’s put, only for Toxxic to run to the ropes and rebound off the slam a basement dropkick into his opponent’s face!

 

*SMACK!*

 

“LET’S GO DRA-AKE!”

 

“LET’S GO TOXX-IC!”

 

“LET’S GO DRA-AKE!”

 

“LET’S GO TOXX-IC!”

 

The leader of Revolution Zero seems to be gradually recovering his strength now and he gets back to his feet with a little more purpose than before. Drake is still flat on his back and Toxxic turns to head for the corner of the ring again, stepping through the ring ropes as before and starting to ascend towards the top buckle.

 

“Toxxic nearly got the winning pin with the Hangover a minute or so ago,” Mak calls, “can he come up with something better this time around?”

 

Toxxic certainly intends to; the Straight-Edge Sensation takes a deep breath, swings his arms backwards… then whips them forwards and leaps off the top rope, backflipping through the air as he goes to come down with one leg outstretched…

 

*BANG!*

 

…but Gabriel Drake rolls aside at the last moment, and the Inglorious misses its target!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“That gamble didn’t pay off!” King shouts. “Mak, I don’t think The Beast is going to be very forgiving!”

 

Sure enough, as Toxxic struggles to get up and get back in the game Gabriel Drake has surged up, a combination of adrenaline and bloodlust giving him energy. No sooner has Toxxic managed to get back to his feet than Drake grabs him, hoists him up and drapes him over one shoulder…

 

…manoeuvres his enemy’s head until it points straight down to the mat…

 

…and sits out.

 

*WHAM!*

 

“INVERTED CROSS!” Mak shouts. Drake just sprawls back into the pin as Brian Warner dives for the mat…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!!!

 

*DING-DING-DING!*

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of the second fall by pinfall; GAAAAAAAAAAAAAB-RIEL… DRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAKE!!” Funyon booms. “There will now be a ten second-”

 

-but the ring announcer cuts off as Gabriel Drake ignores Brian Warner’s instructions and goes for Toxxic again, driving his boot into the straight-edger’s ribs!

 

“What, you didn’t expect Drake to honour that did you?” King snorts in amusement, “it’s only good sense for him to press his advantage!”

 

Gabriel Drake puts the boot in a few more times, then drags Toxxic up to his feet and throws the Englishman bodily into the nearest turnbuckles. The Beast follows him in with a running forearm to the temple, then starts laying waste to the Straight-Edge Sensation with alternating forearms and chops!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

The crowd starts to roar with what is probably bloodlust as Drake gets into his rhythm, but then the big man break off into a series of one, two, three headbutts! The big man then drags Toxxic out from the corner by his hair and bends him over to slam repeated kicks into his unprotected face-

 

*SMACK!*

 

*SMACK!*

 

*SMACK!*

 

*SMACK!*

*SMACK!*

*SMACK!*

*SMACK!*

*SMACK!*

*SMACK!*

 

-then snapmares Toxxic over and lays three cowboy kicks into his spine!

 

*CRACK!*

 

*CRACK!*

 

*CRACK!*

 

“FUCK HIM UP DRA-AKE, FUCK HIM UP!”

 

“FUCK HIM UP DRA-AKE, FUCK HIM UP!”

 

Gabriel Drake turns and runs for the ropes, bouncing off them and accelerating back towards his seated and semi-conscious opponent, then leaves his feet to smash a low-angle one-footed Yakuza kick into Toxxic’s face to send the Englishman sprawling over onto his back.

 

“The score of falls says this match is equal right now, but in reality Gabriel Drake is very much in the driving seat,” Mak Francis says, “if Toxxic can’t come up with something soon I think he’s going to be defeated by Gabriel Drake for the second time!”

 

Drake certainly seems to be of that opinion too, as he draws one thumb across his throat in an emphatic gesture. He heaves Toxxic up off the canvas once more, then bends his knees and takes the Englishman up onto his shoulders in a Fireman’s Carry. Drake adjusts his grip, looking to slide Toxxic headfirst down his back again for another Inverted Cross… but suddenly the straight-edger slams a knee into the side of his opponent’s head! Drake staggers and Toxxic throws another… then another! With the big man wobbling and his grip going Toxxic manages to slide off behind his opponent and land on his feet, then reach up to hook Drake around the head and drops down for a neckbreaker!

 

“FUCK HIM UP TOXX-IC, FUCK HIM UP!”

 

“FUCK HIM UP TOXX-IC, FUCK HIM UP!”

 

There doesn’t seem to be much likelihood of that at the moment, as the Straight-Edge Sensation lies on the mat trying to gather his breath. However, his persistent work on his opponent’s head and neck has paid off, as Drake is clutching his neck and doesn’t seem inclined to rise again very quickly. Brian Warner sees this and starts doing his job…

 

‘ONE!’

 

 

‘TWO!’

 

 

‘THREE!’

 

“It’s been speed against power all the way through this match,” Mak Francis comments, “but now at the last, will experience tell? Toxxic is younger than Drake, but he’s been a main-event player in the SWF for three years now; he’s going to have to use every shred of any advantage he can muster to ensure a victory tonight!”

 

’FOUR!’

 

“But Mak, what if Drake comes out the winner?” Suicide King asks, “I don’t care how unreliable the man might be, if he can defeat Toxxic twice in six months, once under a stipulation that Toxxic himself requested, you tell me how that doesn’t warrant another opportunity at the World Title!”

 

‘FIVE!’

 

Slowly, both men are starting to stir. Toxxic’s taken more abuse recently, but the sheer drop of the Van Slaminator has left Gabriel Drake with a white-hot rod where his spine used to be, and it any knock to the head or neck now causes him agonising pain. Toxxic and Drake start to force themselves up to their feet…

 

‘SIX!’

 

…and Toxxic gets there first, just! He manages to get a fix on his opponent, and as Drake staggers upright the straight-edger begins to unload!

 

RIGHT!

 

 

LEFT!

 

 

RIGHT!

 

 

LEFT!

 

 

Toxxic steps back and flips Drake a two-fingered salute, mouthing ‘fuck you’ to go with it…

 

 

DISCUS CLOTHESLINE!

 

*WHAM!*

 

“LET’S GO TOX-XIC!”

 

“LET’S GO DRA-AKE!”

 

Toxxic’s facial expression is half-grin, half-grimace as he forces himself up, then starts to heave Drake up after him as well. The big man is heavy but dimly aware that he wants to be upright, so he’s not quite dead weight. Toxxic wraps his arms around his former friend’s chest and looks to lift him up for the Side Effect, but his first attempt falters into a wheezing hiss as his battered midsection conspires against him, and Drake manages to slam one, two, three side elbows into his opponent’s temple to loosen his grip! Toxxic staggers away and Drake follows up looking for the Mass Murder combination again; a right-handed palm strike-

 

*SMACK!*

 

-a left-handed palm strike-

 

*SMACK!*

 

-a spinning backfist… that misses, as Toxxic ducks under it! Drake’s momentum carries him around in a full circle, and Toxxic reaches up to grab a ¾ headlock and runs for the turnbuckles, towing The Beast behind him!

 

“SUNNY IN ENGLAND!” Mak yells as Toxxic pushes back off the top buckle, but Drake holds on to the top rope and prevents himself from being dragged down to the canvas. Toxxic loses his grip and crashes face-first onto the mat but the wrench on his neck clearly hurts Drake, and he has to hold himself up on the ropes for a second or two as he involuntarily clutches his neck with his other hand. This gives Toxxic and chance to stagger up to his feet…

 

…Drake explodes off the ropes, swinging one arm for a lariat…

 

…Toxxic drops to the deck, scything his legs around in a soccer tackle…

 

…Drake hurdles him and comes to a halt…

 

*whump-CRACK!*

 

…and Toxxic springs up off the mat to connect with the kip-up enzuigiri!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“How the hell did he catch him with that!?” Suicide King gasps as Drake topples forwards to end up draped over the second rope. And indeed, it seems that burst of energetic movement has taken its toll on the straight-edger, who rises back to his feet again clutching his stomach in pain. However Gabriel Drake is in position and Toxxic heads over to the other side of the ring, then wearily raises his hands to his mouth…

 

‘OH! ONE! ONE! FIVE!’

 

The dialling code for Nottingham is shouted out into the Dominican evening (ignoring the +44 part, because Toxxic has musical standards) and the Straight-Edge Sensation sets off across the ring at a run. On reaching the ropes he leaps into the air, vaults over and comes down with a guillotine legdrop across the back of Drake’s head that sends The Beast rolling away into the ring clutching at his throat!

 

“LET’S GO TOXX-IC!”

 

“LET’S GO DRA-AKE!”

 

The warring chants are still at work, but it’s Toxxic who’s on top in the ring at the moment. The straight-edger landed in a sitting position on the apron and pulls himself back up to his feet using the ring ropes for support, then twirls both fingers over his head in the universal symbol for ‘high risk’. This garners something of a cheer from the fans and the Englishman heads for the nearest ring post, then slowly starts to climb towards the top.

 

“Toxxic has hit one and missed one from the top rope tonight,” Mak Francis reminds viewers, “and when he missed the Inglorious Gabriel Drake got his pinfall straight afterwards. This could be decisive!”

 

However, Gabriel Drake has no intention of letting Toxxic get away with another top rope move. The straight-edger’s battered body has prevented him from making his way to the top buckle with his usual speed and grace, and the wheezing Drake has lurched to his feet before the Revolution Zero leader has got into position. Drake starts forward towards his enemy, then leaps into the air-

 

*SMACK!*

 

-and nails the Right Hand of Gabe! Toxxic sways, very nearly knocked to the floor by the blow, and Drake starts to climb up after him. He reaches up to try and hook Toxxic around the neck…

 

“Drake could be looking for another suplerplex here, and in the state Toxxic’s in that could be all!” Mak shouts.

 

…Toxxic has other ideas though. He weakly shoves Drake’s arm aside, then focuses on his opponent’s head and simply swings his into it.

 

*CRUNCH!*

 

Their heads have met before, tonight.

 

*CRUNCH!*

 

But in the end, it takes a lot of work to out-headbutt one of the Stephens siblings.

 

*CRUNCH!*

 

“Drake’s out! He’s out on his feet!” King calls as The Beast wobbles, barely managing to hold himself in position. Toxxic takes hold of his opponent’s highlighted hair in both hands, then slams Gabe’s head downwards.

 

*BANG!*

 

Right into the exposed buckle that Drake ripped the padding off at the start of the match.

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

The camera, zooming in, catches a brief glimpse of red as Drake’s headwound is reopened by the unprotected steel, before Toxxic pushes off the top rope. He somersaults ungracefully over Drake and lands on his feet as if about to try and bring the bigger man down with a sunset flip power bomb, but then turns around and grabs Drake’s legs before backing away from the corner. Gabe tries to hold onto the top rope but fails, and Toxxic turns to face the ring with his opponent up in an electric chair position.

 

“Hang on,” Mak says in rising alarm, “that looks like-”

 

Toxxic’s body is battered, and he’s exhausted. He can’t hold Gabriel Drake up there.

 

Suits him fine.

 

So he reaches up, takes hold of his former friend’s neck in two black-nailed hands, and pulls it downwards as he sits out.

 

*BAM!!*

 

“RRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!”

 

“DANGERLUST!” Francis bellows as Gabriel Drake’s head is driven into the mat and the crowd noise nearly drowns him out, “IT’S OVER! IT’S OVER!”

 

Brian Warner dives for the mat and starts slamming his hand down.

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!!!

 

*DING-DING-DING!*

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Funyon booms, struggling to make himself heard, “the winner of this match by two falls to one; the ‘Straight-Edge Sensation’… TOXXXXXXXXXX-IIIIIIIIIIIIIIC!!”

 

“He did it, but what a match!” Mak Francis says as Toxxic’s right arm gets raised (from a sitting position) by Brian Warner. “Gabriel Drake was on the verge of taking his second win over the Straight-Edge Sensation, but Toxxic brought out the Dangerlust for the first time in nearly three years and from the looks of it, knocked Drake out cold!”

 

“I hope that’s all it is, Francis,” Suicide King says tensely, “that move’s broken necks before, and you know it!”

 

“You don’t have to tell me about broken necks,” Mak snaps.

 

In the ring, Toxxic is rolling across the mat and finally under the bottom rope to the outside where he wobbles for a moment, then regains his balance. A familiar lopsided grin spreads across his face as he looks around at the crowd, still pumped up. He’s under no illusions that they’re cheering him instead of the possibly homicidal move he‘s just pulled off, but what the hell. For once, he has absolutely no regrets about leaving his opponent motionless on the mat tonight, because he knows with absolute certainty that Drake would have done the same to him, given half a chance.

 

“I think it’s very possible that Toxxic’s just thrown himself back into the World Title picture with this win,” Mak Francis says, “but the World Title itself is up next - let’s look at the history!”

 

The last thing we see before 13th Hour fades into a video package for the World Title match is Toxxic walking up the entrance ramp, pausing to collect his discarded trenchcoat on the way, grinning all the while.

 

 

 

 

 

 

FADE OUT

[Ace309 0]

The following announcement is paid for by the office of Thomas Flesher, SWF Commissioner…

 

The SmarkTron comes alight to show the smiling face of Mister Flesher, looking his Sunday best with a bright white smile and standing in front of an understated black background. A simple thumbs-up later and his image fades, only to be quickly replaced by video from just a few short weeks ago as the recently newly crowned SWF World Heavyweight Champion stands in the ring, exhausted from a hard fought match with Olaf Andersen, staring down the Commissioner himself.

 

“I’ve chosen your opponent for 13th Hour! So without further adieu, let me announce that at SWF 13th Hour, it’ll be Landon Maddix taki—“

 

“WOAH…WOAH…WOAH!”

 

An interruption was not the kind of thing Tom Flesher would expect from his new champion…

 

“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.”

 

“And some sort of say in my challengers?”

 

“…within reason.”

 

“You really think you are going to sell 13th Hour with Maddix-Clark 8…”

 

The screen flashes a shot of the smirking Happiest Guy On Earth.

 

“…or Maddix-Dangerous 17…”

 

Another flash, this time of the resident Secret Agent…

 

“I need a new challenge…”

 

“RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!” The crowd explodes as The Unique Youth, Zyon, appears from backstage and takes the microphone, much to the chagrin of Tom Flesher.

 

“I think it’s about time I was given a shot at the World Title.”

 

“I’m sorry but I don’t think that’s going to work.” Flesher shoots down the idea, only for his new World Champion to push on and reach out for Zyon’s hand – the verbal contract being signed with a simple handshake.

 

Fade…

 

Video from the next few weeks shows Zyon in a handful of contests, readying himself for the fight of his life – only to taste defeat at the hands of the Fabulous Jakey and nearly be torn apart by the formidable Toxxic. Tom Flesher, to say the least, seemed pleased.

 

---One week ago---

 

Zyon stands across the ring from Landon Maddix, a week earlier than expected, with his title shot hanging in the balance. A hard-fought battle later and the World Champion stands victorious, as he no doubt believes he would have been on Pay-Per-View. You can see it in his eyes. The problem, however, lies in the SWF Commissioner.

 

“We have a very special edition of the House of Marvelous!”

 

Tom Flesher appears in the ring, sporting a smile that has not been seen in quite some time – at least when it comes to dealing with Landon Maddix.

 

“I’ve come out here tonight to talk about the main event of 13th Hour. I’m going to put someone in that match that actually deserves it…” The screen shows repeated images of Zyon’s defeats at the hands of Jakey weeks ago and Landon earlier that evening. “I put every ounce of sweat and every drop of blood into the goal of winning that one prize and Zyon thought he could just walk up and take that opportunity without the slightest bit of effort!” the handshake replies, slowly and in black in white. “You didn’t want to have Maddix-Clark 8 or Maddix-Dangerous 17, as you put it? Well don’t worry, I won’t put you in a singles match against someone you’ve faced a dozen times...”

 

“At 13th Hour, Landon Maddix will defend the SWF World Heavyweight Championship against Alan Clark and Johnny Dangerous in a triple threat elimination match!”

 

The crowd explodes at the news, as no doubt the World Champion was also exploding backstage at that very moment. The images on the screen fade from the Commissioner to the various battles over the years between Landon Maddix, Alan Clark, and Johnny Dangerous…

 

…Singles…

 

…Tag Team…

 

…No Gravity…

 

…TLC…

 

…Empty Arena…

 

…Iron Man…

 

…Contendership Matches….

 

...Championship Matches…

 

 

 

 

…but nothing like this.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

GOOOOOOOOOONG.

 

Boom!

 

Boom!

 

BOOOOOM!!!

 

Pyrotechnics explode suddenly as the image moves back to the ringside area, the images of Johnny Dangerous, Alan Clark, and Landon Maddix still frozen on the SmarkTron in the background.

 

“Ladies and Gentlemen…it is time for the MAIN EVENT!!” Funyon’s voice booms over the sold-out crowd.

 

“Here we go, King, have you figured out who you are rooting for in this one?”

 

“If I had a choice…Toxxic.” Mak Francis can be heard grumbling at his partner’s lackadaisical response, but has little time to chide him as Funyon continues on with his duties in the ring.

 

“The following contest is a Triple Threat Elimination Match and is for the S-W-F World Heavyweight Championship!!” The crowd cheers and, once again, almost drowns out the veteran announcer, “two men shall start and two men shall be in the ring at all times, tagging in and out until one man is eliminated by pinfall, submission, countout, knockout, or disqualification. The last man standing, regardless of process of elimination, shall be named the winner and the champion!!”

 

“Keep that in mind, Francis! Maddix can’t just walk away any time he wants, he can’t just use a chair, he has no escape! And you question why I think Tom Flesher is a genius!”

 

“I’ve never questioned—“

 

 

 

“Johnny Dangerous~!”

 

“RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!”

 

The sounds of Mission: Impossible strike up, bringing forth from behind the curtain the SWF’s secret agent himself…and his partner!

 

“Introducing first the challengers…making his way to the ring at this time and being accompanied by the Wildchild…”

 

“Look at that, King! Moral support from his tag team partner!”

 

“…weighing in at two hundred and twenty five pounds and representing Las Vegas, Nevada…he is one half of the SWF World Tag Team Champions… he is “The Barracuda”…JOHNNY DANGEROUS!!!”

 

“JOHN-NY! JOHN-NY! JOHN-NY!”

 

Johnny acknowledges the crowd’s cheering with a smile and a few high-fives to the ramp-side fans. Mak Francis can not help but notice that, behind him, Wildchild is carrying both tag team titles on his shoulders and leaving Johnny free and clear on his walk to the ring.

 

“Tonight isn’t about teamwork, it isn’t about the championships the Bahama Bomber has in his grasp. This is about the World Heavyweight Championship…”

 

“Well duh, Francis, but why is he even out here?”

 

“Landon has Megan, and Alan Clark has that giant Walter Reynolds behind him at all times. Wildchild is just leveling the playing field!”

 

“Megan is a GIRL, Mak, and Reynolds can’t do a thing! He’s got the same goofy contract that idiot Clark has!”

 

“Ha…Goofy…”

 

“OH I JUST CAN’T WAAAAAAAIT…”

 

“and speaking of that idiot Clark…”

 

“TO BE KING!!!”

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

Johnny Dangerous has not even made it to the ring, when the sounds of Disney’s The Lion King erupt from the PA around the arena, spinning the tag team champions around in time to see a khaki-clad Alan Clark pop out from behind the curtain with Walter Reynolds in tow, the large bodyguard carrying the International Championship on his own shoulder in a similar display to the tag champions.

 

“And being accompanied to the ring by Walter Reynolds, representing Walt Disney World in Orlando, Florida…he weighs in at two hundred twenty five pounds and is the SWF International Champion… the “Happiest Guy On Earth”…ALAAAAN CLARK!”

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

The crowd continues their jeers toward Clark, who ignores them as usual with a simple smile and a wave before bee-lining to the ring, brushing right between the tag team champions and nearly knocking Johnny Dangerous to the floor on his way by! The secret agent, no love lost between himself and either of his opponents on this night and even with his partner turning to try and calm down his friend, follows suit and slides into the ring, jumping to his feet and slamming his fists straight into the spine of the Disney-sponsored superstar!

 

“Alan Clark didn’t take his time getting to the ring, nearly putting Dangerous down! So Johnny didn’t take his time in retaliating himself and now Alan Clark IS down!” Matthew Kivell, senior referee, jumps into the ring and between the two men, handing out a quick warning to Johnny Dangerous as both Wildchild and Walter Reynolds take their places on the outside of the ring, giving each other nothing more than a passing glance before…

 

“REACH OUT AND TOUCH FAITH!!!”

 

The lighting goes completely berserk around the stadium as “Personal Jesus” pipes up, signaling the arrival of the SWF World Champion himself, as he and Megan Skye step out onto the stage and into the sights of the four men at ringside.

 

“YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!”

 

“And now…making his way to the ring and being accompanied by Megan Skye…from Huron, South Dakota by way of Madrid, Spain…he is the CURRENT S-W-F HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION OF THE WOOOOORLD… LANDON “LA CU-CA-RA-CHA” MAAAAADDIX!!”

 

Maddix throws his arms out just as a spotlight shines over his body, illuminating the championship belt glistening around his waist.

 

“That is what this is all about! Landon Maddix has a venerable den of lions in front of him and there is absolutely no fear on his face! He has laid waste to almost every challenge in front of him, and while he might hold a few losses to the two men in the ring, he holds just as many wins!”

 

“…cause if anything makes a great world champion it’s a .500 record! Get a grip, Mak!” the Suicide King, of course, feels the need to add his own two cents to the matter as Megan pulls the title from around the waist of her man before he two takes a jog to the ring, not at such a high pace as that of Alan Clark, but the smile on his face seems to know something the other two men don’t as he hops up onto the apron and takes his place in the corner, motioning for his two challengers to get their battle underway. “And now look at him, just thinking he won’t have to start this match. I should go over there and just throw him into the ring myself!” but, given his contract, that is a no-go for the Gambling Man as Megan, almost reluctantly, hands off the championship to Kivell through the ropes and gives the two men she has joined on the outside a once-over with her eyes.

 

“Don’t even think about it!” she can be heard calling over the simmering crowd, leading to both Reynolds and Wildchild to throw their hands up in a show of innocence.

 

“Moral support all around, for now…” comments the Franchise as Kivell holds the championship up high into the air, making completely sure that everyone knows that it is the only thing that matters (as if there was any doubt), the bell sounds and the main event is underway!

 

Ding! Ding! Ding!

 

“Well you know if Landon gets in any trouble that Megan Skye won’t even hesitate to jump in and do what she can to get him out of it. That’s a bet I’d take any day of the week!”

 

“Given his history, I would probably take that bet as well, but she is going to have to stay on her best behavior tonight or her man will not be flying out of here with that gold he so covets…” adds the Francis as Johnny Dangerous and Alan Clark circle each other in the ring, keeping an eye on the cockroach in the corner who watches on with his right hand hanging limply over the top rope and a smile on his face. “I think our World Heavyweight Champion wants to be entertained. He has absolutely no intention of getting in that ring before he has to here tonight, and that might not even be until one of his challengers has been eliminated by the other!”

 

“I’ll bet that was Megan’s idea” quips the Suicide King as the two aforementioned challengers rush into a collar-and-elbow tie-up and each man fights to gain the early advantage.

 

“I doubt it this time, King. Alan Clark rushed the ring and nearly took out the tag team champions. Johnny Dangerous was the one that decided to enter the ring and attack Clark from behind. The International Champion’s excitement is not grounds for violence.”

 

“It is in my world…” and apparently it also is in the world of the Barracuda, who is finally able to secure some leverage over Clark and push his upper-body backwards. The pressure on Alan’s spine keeps his feet from doing much moving underneath him, and so the sold-out crowd gets their first of possibly many glimpses of pain to appear across the face of the Disney-sponsored champion. A wide grimace and a barely audible groan are captured by the ringside camera as Clark’s body bows against itself, until finally Johnny simply lets go…

 

WHAM!

 

…and immediately cracks out a hard clothesline that puts Clark down!

 

“If we had any rafters here tonight, I’m sure that sound would be echoing off them! That was vicious!” but even with a contusion no doubt forming beneath his shirt, Alan slides himself backwards across the mat, begging for mercy with one hand as his other rubs across his spine. One would assume this was not the way he wanted to start the match.

 

“If there is one thing that Johnny Dangerous is good for besides repetitive phrases and annoying me to no end, it is hand-to-hand combat. You know a well-placed palmstrike can send the nose-bone up into the brain and kill a man?!”

 

“Right…..” Mak Francis trails off, rolling his eyes away from his broadcast partner as Johnny Dangerous finally catches up to his retreating foe. Alan tries, in vain, to kick away the hands of the secret agent as the tag champ clutches at his right foot and drags him back into the center of the ring. On the apron, Landon golf-claps in approval as Johnny releases his grip and Alan once again tries to crawl away…

 

SMACK!

 

…and catches a boot square between the armpits and the crotch that sends Clark flailing onto his back and rolling toward the ropes, where Landon gives him a quick kick to keep him in the ring!

 

“And look at that, Landon just got in a cheap shot of his own!”

 

“Kivell isn’t very pleased either, King…” Landon gives Johnny a sarcastic thumbs-up and a call to keep on Clark, turning a deaf ear to the senior official yelling only a foot from him. “But it isn’t anything you wouldn’t have done in the situation.”

 

“That’s not the point. The point is that a disqualification takes his title away and the referee should have been all over that illegal kick right there!” A few more kicks follow in the ring as the announcers bicker back and forth, but this time from Johnny Dangerous as he keeps the pressure on Clark, attacking his spine with down-and-dirty toe kicks, each one causing the body of the International champ to contort and bend against itself as he tries to roll across the canvas.

 

“And what about the illegal attack before the bell from Johnny Dangerous?”

 

“Key words, Francis - before the bell. No bell, no foul!” as always with the Suicide King there is a loophole. “I know if I ever lost to Alan Clark, which is laughable in and of itself, that I would use every chance I got to cripple him……….no offense.”

 

“I’ll try and stay professional until the cameras are off” one can almost hear Francis clenching his fists at the remark, but does his best to brush them aside, “but Johnny did get a defeat against him just a week ago in a match for the tag team titles!”

 

“He had a partner there, and this is different. This is for the biggest prize in the game!” asserts the Gambling Man as, in the ring, the Barracuda continues to assert himself over Alan Clark as he pulls him to his feet and then quickly back down with a devastating DDT.

 

“Cover!”

 

One!

 

Two!

 

“Broken up by Landon Ma—wait? What the…?” Not only are the commentators shocked, but as is both Matthew Kivell and most importantly Johnny Dangerous, whose eyes are about bugged out of his head at the site of Landon backing up into the corner, continuing his audible calling for Johnny to keep on attacking Alan Clark. A look at the International Champion would also more than likely show shock as well, if his head was not throbbing from the DDT he just received.

 

“That DDT might not have kept Alan Clark down for the three, but there seems to be something going on in Maddix’s head, or at least, in Megan’s head.” The Suicide King, along with everyone watching in the arena and at home, tries to piece together Maddix’s actions as Megan applauds him on the outside, drawing odd looks from Reynolds and Wildchild.

 

“Well, she does always seem to have a plan for every situation, and given when and how this match was made means that her man had little time to prepare physically, so she decided to try and prepare mentally.” Francis, just as confused, watches on as Johnny shakes away the shock and throws another look toward both Maddix and Skye before once again pulling Clark off the mat and toward the other side of the ring, as far away as possible from the current World Champion.

 

Alan swipes at the air, fighting against the hands clenched onto his hair and through the pain in his scalp he can barely hear Kivell yelling about the pulling. Dangerous relents, seemingly satisfied with the distance between himself and Maddix, leaving Clark to slump down onto all fours, shaking his body like a wet dog to try and get out the pain coursing through it, but against a man like Johnny Dangerous – there are few rests.

 

“You have to wonder what is going through the minds of the three wrestlers in the ring, the three watching on from the outside and even Tom Flesher – who you know is watching somewhere. What are they all thinking?”

 

“Tom Flesher is probably close to chain-smoking at this point. This has been two months he isn’t about to want to relive again, and until Landon Maddix is taken out of this match and taken away from that championship for good – well, he just is not going to be happy.”

 

WHAM!!

 

“You have that right…and what a hard suplex by Johnny Dangerous there!” The two commentators are interrupted as Alan Clark’s body bounces off the canvas courtesy of a snap suplex, “no cover made, but he still isn’t giving Alan a chance to get a second wind.” Clark once again swats at Johnny’s hands, only to catch a boot between the eyes, stunning him long enough for the Barracuda to pull him back up to his feet. “He can barely stand…” continues Francis as Johnny keeps the International champ doubled over and walks past him, clapping his hands together and throws his body somersault backwards through the air, driving his left knee and ankle into the back of Alan’s head and planting him into the canvas!

 

“Showoff…” mutters the King as Johnny rolls Alan to his back and throws himself on top with another lateral press.

 

One!

 

 

Two!

 

 

“Broken up AGAIN!” calls Francis as Maddix once again intervenes to stop the count, this time by nearly blindsiding Dangerous with a kick to the head. “Johnny put Alan Clark down with that signature kick of his, and Landon broke it up once again! What is going on?!” The question resonates through both of the legal men in the ring as Landon slides to the outside and apologizes toward the slowly advancing Wildchild, with Kivell calling for the two men to separate through the ropes as both Johnny and Alan begin to climb back up to their feet, the secret agent reaching a vertical base just a few seconds faster.

 

“Maybe Landon wants to pin both men?”

 

“But why, King? So long as he stays on the outside of the ring he will only have to defeat one man to keep his championship, and he will stay fresh!”

 

“Hey, I think the kid’s a complete idiot. I’m just trying to figure out what brain-dead scheme he’s trying to pull.” Still with no questions answered Landon once again takes his place on the apron and claps for both men, as Johnny keeps a few feet between himself and Clark, albeit screaming for Alan to get to his feet.

 

“He’s sizing him up now. He wants Alan standing…”

 

THUD!

 

“Beautiful swinging neckbreaker by Johnny Dangerous! Alan Clark so far has had the offense of a punching bag.”

 

“Well that is all he is good for.” But with both Clark and Dangerous landing near Maddix’s corner, Johnny strays from the cover attempt and instead drags Alan by the ankles back across the ring. Once more satisfied, Johnny drops the legs and makes a quick leap, throwing his body out and falling to the canvas, slamming the corner of his elbow into Clark’s chest!

 

“And that elbow is good for knocking the wind out of someone!” but not as good as what the Dangerous seems to be planning to do next as he has to drag Alan up to his feet, his body grunting from the near deadweight that Clark’s body has become. A rough lift later and Alan has found himself draped across the Barracuda’s shoulders. “We saw this one week ago, can he hit it again…”

 

 

WHAAAM!!

 

 

 

“SPINAL EXPLOSION! That’s it right there!”

 

 

One!

 

 

“Here comes Landon!”

 

Two!

 

“And the champion breaks it up AGAIN!!” Johnny Dangerous took a knee to the back, but shows little pain on his face as he quickly stands and turns toward the retreating Maddix. Kivell tries to get between the two, but Maddix is quick enough to drop down and slide back to the outside. The two men jack jaws back and forth between the floor and the ring, as Megan and Wildchild move in to aid the situation, as the camera catches Alan Clark roll himself slowly to the other side of the ring and out to the floor, almost completely unseen except for both Johnny and Wildchild catching a glimpse of Walter Reynolds moving from their side of the ring toward the announce table where Alan has landed.

“Alan Clark thought he could get a breather, but he’s just been caught!”

 

“Johnny!” Wildchild calls, but his partner is already up on the situation, and the moment he sees Clark’s head pop up from behind the apron he springs into action.

 

“Baseball slide coming up!”

 

“He ducked it!” the Suicide King adds as Alan is able to drop down to his knees at the last possible second, leaving Johnny to adjust himself mid-slide to land on his feet, which he does…

 

WHAM!

 

…and eats a surprise lariat from Alan Clark!

 

“Clothesline out of nowhere and Johnny is down…but not for long!” Kivell is not even able to get a one count out of his mouth before Alan slides back in the ring and Johnny follows, only to eat a few boots of his own from the International Champion as Clark starts to work at unbuttoning his own khaki shirt. “And now what is Alan Clark doing in there?”

 

“I don’t think Disney would appreciate that idiot stripping…neither would I, now that I think about it.”

 

“You aren’t the only one, King!” but once the shirt is completely open and ripped from his back, it is easy to see the t-shirt that happens to be underneath it. A quick knee to Johnny’s spine later and Alan turns to face the World Champion on the apron, spreading his arms to give Landon a good look at the two words emblemized across his chest.

 

 

Martial Law.

 

 

“Look at that!! Alan Clark has brought an old Martial Law t-shirt out of the mothballs and it seems he is almost taunting Landon Maddix with it!”

 

“Taunting? Do you not remember that Landon Maddix has saved Alan Clark multiple times in this match already and they’ve spent a few months running around the OAOAST together too! If these two men are in cahoots together then Tom Flesher is going to blow a gasket!”

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“If he hasn’t already! And Landon Maddix looks to approve!” Landon gives Alan a thumbs up, causing the arena crowd to rain down jeers on the ring.

 

“ALAN SUCKS! ALAN SUCKS!”

 

“Alan had best quit being so buddy-buddy and turn around…” calls the Suicide King, “cause Johnny’s up and he’s not happy.”

 

“But look at Maddix!” adds the Franchise as Landon points over Alan’s shoulder, getting his attention in time to turn and duck himself out of the way of a Dangerous clothesline…

 

 

WHAAAAAM!

 

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“CUTTING IN LINE! OH MY GOD!”

 

Johnny’s body strikes the canvas hard and Alan rolls up to his knees and looks to Maddix, who finally has his hand outstretched and ready to tag into the match!

 

“Landon wants in and Alan looks like he is going to oblige to the World Heavyweight Champion!” a quick tag follows, but as Alan steps aside to allow Landon passage into the ring, the champ leaps up and over the top rope and springs straight toward Clark, catching him right between the eyes with the soles of his boots!

 

“RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

 

“Now what?!” Suicide King can be heard slapping his hands to his forehead in confusion as the crowd pulls a U-turn in their demeanor, raining down on the ring a chorus for Landon.

 

“MAD-DIX! MAD-DIX! MAD-DIX!”

 

“Alan Clark thought he had a friend, but now he might have a black eye thanks to his old Martial Law buddy Landon Maddix!” Landon soaks up some of the adulation from the crowd before he reaches down and rips the shirt from Clark’s back, kicking the Disney-sponsored superstar from the ring and throwing the shirt out into the crowd. It is just too bad he forgot about Johnny Dangerous.

 

“LANDON!!” Megan yells just in time to spin her man around, and straight into Johnny’s right foot.

 

SMACK!

 

“Johnny Kick connects! There’s the cover!”

 

One!

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

Threeeeeee----

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“WAIT! BROKEN UP BY CLARK NOW!” The crowd reacts before anyone else can as Alan Clark is able to grab Johnny by the ankle and drag him under the ropes and to the outside, saving Landon Maddix from an embarrassing exit in his first few legal seconds in the ring!

 

“This is just getting out of control. I might not be able to take much more of this.” The Suicide King is nearly rambling as both Alan Clark and Johnny Dangerous begin to trade punches on the outside of the ring.

 

“First Landon saves Alan, now Alan saves Landon after Landon nearly took a few of Alan’s teeth out! You have to wonder what is going to happen when Johnny Dangerous finds himself staring at the lights.”

 

“I think at this point Wildchild might have to come in because this is beginning to look like a handicap match!” The King has his answer, but with the two challengers battling on the outside, Matthew Kivell hangs between the ropes and yells for Johnny to enter the ring, he forgets the plucky Maddix behind his back and coming straight for him!

 

“HERE COMES LANDON MADDIX! LEAPFROG!”

 

THUUUUUUD!

 

 

“SOMERSAULT PLANCHA OVER MATTY’S BACK! UNBELIEVABLE!” and with Kivell in shock at the body that just flew over top him, he can do nothing but lift his jaw from the floor as all three men writhe on the floor, Landon’s body being only somewhat cushioned by his two landing mats with fists.

 

“HOLY (BLEEP)! HOLY (BLEEP)!” the censors jump in as the crowd shows their approval for the champion’s dive, adding more and more cheers to the mix as Landon slowly climbs to his feet and pulls Johnny Dangerous up with him. A quick glance down toward Clark follows before Landon tosses Johnny into the ring and slides in behind him, hearing some words from Kivell as he does so.

 

“This match just took a quick turn from the striking of Johnny Dangerous to that shocking high risk dive we just witnessed but now whether he likes it or not the World Champion is the legal man in this match!”

 

“Well Johnny Dangerous has about ten minutes of wrestling in him already and Maddix is fresh as a daisy! I will tell you it’s going to be a bright day in the (bleep)ing sun when his luck finally runs out in that ring!” the Suicide King tests the censors once again as a few replays of the dive show a large part of Landon’s weight coming down square at the base of Johnny’s neck, a hit that seems to have quickly taken its toll on the secret agent as he fights for his balance in the ring with Maddix holding him on his feet.

 

“It’s not all luck, Landon Maddix has proven himself time and time again” and indeed Maddix looks to be in control as he pushes Johnny back into the corner far from the barely standing Alan Clark on the outside. Landon quickly glances over his shoulder at his other opponent before throwing a hard kick into Johnny’s ribcage. With the Barracuda doubled over, Landon is quick to trap him in a front facelock and drag him away from the ropes and down to the ground, cinching his legs around Dangerous’ waist and holding the headlock in place, arching his body into a painful submission hold!

 

“Landon Maddix has Johnny Dangerous trapped, but he really is going to have to watch himself as even the smallest shift could put his shoulders on the—There’s a count!” but before Kivell can hit his hand to mat twice Landon shifts his weight to the side, the camera catching the grimace on the secret agent’s face before the world champ can complete the roll, putting himself on top before he slightly stands and yanks backwards, forcefully pulling Johnny up to a seated position. A quick body-scissors later, and Landon arches himself backwards once again, placing Johnny in an even worse situation than before!

 

“Blasphemy!!”

 

“Wet Cement applied! Landon might call that Grand Theft Taamo, but he knows as well as anyone how well it works and can really tweak the neck in preparation for the Land Of Nod.”

 

“Get in there, Clark! Come on!” The Suicide King seems to grasping for straws, as Alan has only just gotten himself back up to the apron, and can see the trap applied on the other side of the ring.

 

“If someone doesn’t do something soon, this could be it for Johnny Dangerous!” exclaims the Franchise as Dangerous tries to fight the pain and get himself out of the hold, only for Landon to pull backwards even harder, leaving only his feet touching the canvas. A harsh groan can be heard emanating from inside the facelock as Johnny pushes his hands into Landon’s ribcage, his head finally slipping free and sending the off-balance Maddix falling backwards to the mat!

 

“Yes! Now you know, Francis, had that been Tom Flesher holding Johnny Dangerous he never would have escaped, but Landon will never be Tom Flesher no matter how many titles he wins or how much he steals! Never!” but finally free, Johnny can do little but collapse backwards, pushing Landon’s weight away from him as he puts his hands to his neck to try and massage away the pain. Maddix, on the other hand, unsure of the secret agent’s intentions, quickly grabs at the bottom rope and pulls himself toward the apron.

 

“Regardless, it was Landon Maddix using it and Johnny did escape, now he just needs to get back up to his feet and soon if he wants to stay alive in this match.”

 

“Well Alan Clark seems to want a tag, for some stupid reason…” mutters King as the ringside camera catches Alan’s right arm stretched out over the top rope and toward both competitors. The smile on his face is, to steal a phrase from one Ejiro Fasaki, eerily creepy. Megan, Wildchild, and Walter Reynolds each look up at him from the outside with similar stares of confusion, but their attention is quickly back in the ring as Johnny rolls to his knees and looks up toward Clark, beginning a slow crawl toward him.

 

“And Johnny Dangerous wants to oblige!” but before Johnny can crawl even five feet, Landon has pulled himself up to his feet and rushes the Barracuda, continuing his assault on the tag champ’s neck with a hard kick to stop him in his tracks. Alan continues to keep his hand out for Maddix, and after a glance between the two Maddix reaches out and gives Alan a slap on the hand – then very quickly backs away to avoid any sort of retaliation for the earlier dropkick.

 

“Like I said…total idiot right there.”

 

“At least Landon Maddix was smart enough to put some distance between himself and Clark, but Alan has shown no sign of aggression upon entering the ring right here.” Francis adds as Clark steps into the ring and takes over where Landon left off, dropping to one knee and cinching in a facelock of his own with his left arm while clubbing his right forearm down across Dangerous’ lower back. “I just don’t understand Alan Clark’s mentality in this match so far. He seemed to try and win over Landon with that t-shirt, but we saw that didn’t work, but now he had the chance to rest on the outside and instead he just tagged back in!”

 

“Must I keep saying it…” groans King as Alan pulls Johnny up, keeping the facelock applied and transitioning into a harsh suplex back and around into the center of the ring! A quick pivot of the waist later and Alan is back up and straight into a second suplex, this time holding Johnny in the air to send a rush of blood to the Barracuda’s head.

 

“It might be time for the 3 o’clock Parade!” The crowd chimes in with a few boos as Alan pulls himself and his trapped opponent back up once again. With the facelock still applied Clark turns himself toward the corner and screams toward Maddix to move out of the way, the World Champ obliges, giving Alan enough space to lift Johnny into the air and stutter-step his way toward the turnbuckles…

 

“What is he trying to do now?” but the Suicide King soon gets his answer as Alan simply drops Johnny down over the top turnbuckle, the pad striking the secret agent’s back before Alan hooks his legs over the ringpost and traps him upside down!

 

“Tree of Woe, King, and it looks like Landon Maddix approves!” and sure enough, Maddix claps at Alan’s ingenuity, drawing a smile from Clark as he moves across the ring, audibly calling for Landon to watch what he does next. “Johnny Dangerous is in a bad way here!” but as Alan rushes back toward the corner he suddenly changes direction, leaving his feet and throwing his body threw the ropes and straight into the midsection of Landon Maddix, launching him off the apron…

 

 

THUUUD!

 

 

…and back-first into the barricade!

 

“Talk about a swerve, and he almost took out the Wildchild!” Francis exclaims as the spear replays, showing Wildchild barely escaping out of the path of the falling Landon Maddix that he had been, up until that moment, standing just behind. The Bahaman Bomber breathes a sigh of relief and moves around the side of the ring at the request of Matthew Kivell, leaving Landon alone and against the steel as Alan hangs across the second rope, screaming towards Maddix that he deserved it and pointing down towards the shirt that still lays torn up on the floor.

 

“He might be a moron, but Maddix did deserve it. He deserves every bit of punishment he gets!” but with Maddix down, Megan is beside herself and tries to get around the ring to help her man, only for Kivell to continue his warnings.

 

“Oh shut up!” Megan calls back as Alan returns to the still upside-down Johnny Dangerous, delivering a kick very close to (but not right on) the crowned jewels of the Barracuda. A warning of banishment moves Megan back around the ring, a shocked and annoyed look burning from her eyes toward Kivell as the referee finally turns his attention back to the in-ring action as Alan pulls Johnny from his perch and slams him down hard on his chest!

 

“Megan Skye needs to watch herself or she might be watching this match from backstage!”

 

“She should be back there!”

 

“What about Walter Reynolds or Wildchild?” adds Francis as Alan drags Johnny toward the middle of the ring and goes for a cover…

 

One!

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

KICKOUT!

 

“They aren’t going to do anything!” screams the Suicide King, “but she’s bad news! Always has been!” Back inside the ring, Alan seems to be in a bit of shock, but the look on his face quickly returns to his trademark sly smirk as he drags Johnny up to his feet and steps back, leaving Dangerous to teeter back and forth for a moment…

 

“Superkick coming up!”

 

“Sweep de leg, Johnny!”

 

“DUCKED!”

 

Thud!

 

“Did you just see that?! Wildchild saw the superkick coming and called for Johnny to duck and go for the legsweep and now Alan Clark is down!”

 

“What a cheater! All of them are cheaters! We can’t be having the World Champion of this company continue to be a dirty cheater!”

 

“And who would you suggest hold the world championship then?”

 

“Well, Tom Flesher isn’t that busy…” the comment causes a grumble from the Franchise as Alan and Johnny, and in the top corner of the screen Landon Maddix, fight to get back to their feet, with Alan barely beating Johnny up as the secret agent continues to feel the affects the match has had on him so far.

 

“Nevertheless, King, the belt is up for grabs between these three men, and it seems all of them are back up to their feet and here come the right hands!” Alan and Johnny repeat their early bout on the outside of the ring, trading punches back and forth, but as Kivell warns on the use of the closed fist Johnny is able to throw up a block and fire off a hard palmstrike straight to the jaw of Alan Clark!

 

“I think he just broke his jaw!”

 

“Shotei! I’ll say that’ll add some pudding to your diet, right there!” Clark stumbles backwards into the ropes and Kivell makes a quick check, only to simply have Alan swat him away! “Alan is still in a fighting mood, but here comes the Barracuda!” the referee barely slides out of the way in time for Johnny to hit the ropes himself, sending both himself and Alan flipping to the outside courtesy of a hard clothesline!

 

“Johnny Dangerous might have just got his second wind, but with seemingly both Alan Clark and Landon Maddix conspiring against him he is going to have quite the uphill battle…”

 

TWAAANG!

 

 

“…and he’s starting that climb with a running start by throwing Alan Clark straight into the barricade!”

 

“REF! REF!” Kivell indeed issues a warning for Johnny to back off and watch how far he takes his punishment of Clark and instead deciding to simply slide back into the ring and leave his sponsored foe to recoup.

 

“JOHN-NY! JOHN-NY! JOHN-NY!” the crowd’s chants pipe up as Johnny gives them a few simple poses, only to turn and see Landon Maddix on the floor and moving straight toward Alan Clark!

 

“It seems this little duo is about to have a pow-wow…” but Mak Francis is far from correct, as Maddix does nothing more than grab Alan by the hair and drag him toward the ring, lifting him up and throwing him back under the bottom rope and pushing him straight toward the stunned Barracuda!

 

“Go on!” Maddix can be heard yelling as he jumps back up on the apron, and after a second to let it all sink in, Johnny reaches down and pulls Clark back up and immediately swings him up, over, and down…repaying Clark for earlier in the match with a suplex of his own!

 

“Alan Clark just got sold up the river, and now here comes Johnny Dangerous with a second suplex!”

 

WHAM!

 

 

“And a third!”

 

 

WHAAAM!

 

 

“AND A FOURTH!” but as Alan finds himself hanging upside down for the fourth time, Johnny instead drops Alan chest-first over the top rope, leaving him hanging for a moment before expertly pivoting a full three-hundred-sixty degrees and almost taking Alan’s smirk off his face with a devastating roundhouse kick!

 

SMACK!

 

“By God, King! Alan Clark might be knocked out!” Even so, Alan stays hung over the top rope with his arms dangling, and before Johnny can do anything to follow-up on the kick, Landon Maddix intervenes by leaning over the rope and smacking at Alan’s open palm as it hangs limply near the mat. “And there’s a tag, I think!” Kivell makes the tag legal and Maddix unceremoniously dumps Alan to the floor and leaps over the top rope, meeting a very angry Johnny Dangerous in mid-stride…

 

DUCKED!

 

“WOOAAAAAAAH JOHNNY DANGEROUS TO THE OUTSIDE….NO!!” Johnny lands on the apron after being propelled into the air on the back of Landon Maddix, and before the World Champ can react Johnny rears back on the side of the ring and drives his forearm to the side of Landon’s head, dropping Maddix down and sending him rolling across the ring in an effort to escape!

 

“Alan Clark is down and may be out, Johnny Dangerous is entering the ring and his eyes are burning holes through Landon Maddix as he is trying to stand on the other side of the ring! And now both men are up!”

 

“This is going to be good, Mak!” calls the Suicide King as Johnny connects with two hard chops across Landon’s chest, but the third is dodged! “NO!” Dangerous spins backwards from the force of his own anger and gives Landon the chance to leap up, digging his knees into Johnny’s back and falling toward the canvas, jarring every bone in the Barracuda’s body upon impact!

 

“And the Lungblower connects, but where is Landon Maddix going!?” instead of the cover, Maddix begins to crawl across the ring and reaches out, timing a dive toward the corner to catch Alan Clark’s right hand with his own just as the International Champion begins to climb back up to the apron! “Is that a tag?! Is that another tag?!”

 

….

 

“IT IS!”

 

“NO!” The Gambling Man lets out a moan of dissatisfaction which is almost nothing compared to the look on Alan Clark’s face as Kivell yells for him to get back in the ring. Landon, on the other hand, takes the chance to slide out of the ring and head for some higher ground, keeping some breathing room between himself and everyone else involved in and around the ring. The only thing that has stayed consistent in the moment is Johnny’s disposition, as he finally is back up and, after trying to exit the ring for Landon, is informed of who the real legal man is. A slap to his own face later and he slides out of the ring to help escort Alan back inside to hopefully finish the International champ off and set his sights on the running-and-gunning Landon Maddix.

 

“Alan Clark can barely stand! He better be glad he’s had Landon’s help for so long, although one might wonder what his deal was just now by tagging in Clark and running out of the ring?”

 

“In a match like this, the less you are in the ring the better, Francis. You know that. Prolonging Alan’s execution is going to wear down Johnny for when the two men finally have to get it on for the World Heavyweight Championship!”

 

“You think Alan Clark is finished in this match?”

 

“Well look at him!” exclaims the Suicide King as Johnny makes a point to stare down Maddix as he grabs Alan Clark in position next to him and prepares to lift him into the air…

 

“EEEEEMMMMMM EEEEYYYYYYEEEEEE....”

 

 

WHAAAAAAAM!

 

 

“SLAM! HUGE MI SLAM CONNECTS! THIS IS IT!”

 

One!

 

 

 

 

Two!!

 

 

 

 

 

Thre…NO!

 

“LANDON MADDIX BROKE IT UP! HE BROKE IT UP!”

[Ace309 0]

“This is getting out of control here! Wildchild almost stopped Landon in mid-stride to the ring but thought better of it at the last second and I think Kivell saw it!” the replay plays in the corner of the screen to show Wildchild almost cutting Maddix off near the apron, only to stop at the last possible moment and nearly trip over his own two feet. Kivell throws both men a warning, and makes a point to tell the Caribbean Cruiser that any interference will send him back to the locker room early. Johnny Dangerous gives Landon a few words of his own, causing Kivell to have to separate the two men once again, but Johnny pushes past and gets right in the World Champion’s face as he steps up onto the apron!

 

“There’s going to be a boil over right here! Landon Maddix is not the legal man! Johnny needs to calm down before he costs himself the Championship!”

 

“Don’t look now, Mak, but Clark is back up, I mean barely back up, but he is on his feet and heading straight toward the distracted Johnny Dangerous!”

 

“JOHNNY!!” Wildchild screams from around the corner, spinning his partner around in time to see Alan diving straight at him!

 

“Big Splash! NOOOO!” screams the Franchise as Johnny swerves out of the way, sending Alan into the corner chest-first! Clark stumbles out from the turnbuckle, his body doubled over from the pain, but it is nothing compared to the feeling of Johnny’s right leg draping over the back of his neck and planting him face-first into the canvas! “And a huge Guillotine Face Driver! COVER!”

 

One!

 

 

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

 

 

“NO! FOOT ON THE ROPES!” The referee’s hand is almost on the mat when he suddenly retracts and points towards the ropes, where Alan’s foot hangs gingerly. Even Landon Maddix looks shocked at his spot on the apron, the first pinfall attempt he has not tried to break up so far in the contest.

 

“He is just prolonging the agony now, Alan Clark has always been one of those guys that hates to give up and give in, but he’s just going to have to eventually. I’m getting sick of this…” the King’s voice trails away as Johnny stands and drags Alan’s body toward the center of the ring, giving another look toward Maddix as he stands Alan back up and sends him towards the ropes…

 

“Another MI Slam coming up!!”

 

“Clark hit the brakes!”

 

“BOOOOOOOOOO!” The crowd lets out a loud jeer as Clark hits the ropes and stops dead, only to leap forward, skipping off two feet and firing off a hard superkick…

 

SMAAACK!

 

 

…that connects right beneath the chin!

 

“SUPERKICK! COVER!”

 

 

One!

 

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

 

Three!!

 

 

“BROKEN UP AGAIN!! Do you believe it?! Maddix broke it up! Landon Maddix broke up Alan Clark’s pin attempt!” And as much shock as Mak Francis and the Suicide King are in, Alan Clark is nuclear as he rolls away from the pin attempt and looks up at Landon Maddix, who is being chastised for what seems to be the final time at the hands of Mathew Kivell.

 

“One more time and you are out of here! GOT IT?!” Kivell can be heard screaming at the top of his lungs, that in and of itself shocking Landon as he climbs back through the ropes and shakes his head, giving Megan a cautious look. She only shrugs in return and motions for him to hold back now, shaking her head as Landon inaudibly begins to mouth questions toward her.

 

“Landon is a misstep away from no longer having his world championship! YES!” King is finally happy about something happening in the match, but with both Alan Clark and Johnny Dangerous taking their time in standing back up to their feet; it seems he will have an easy run through whoever happens to still be standing, regardless of any tags that happen between now and then. He makes sure to give the ringside fans a smile and a wave, causing a few flashbulbs to pop as Alan clutches at Johnny and spins him around, going belly-to-back before lifting him off his feet and throwing him over and straight down chest-first into the mat!

 

“Mister Clark’s Wild Ride connects! That superkick might have taken enough out of Johnny Dangerous to knock him out of this match! There’s the cover!”

 

One!

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Threeeeeeeeee…NO!!

 

“YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

 

“Johnny Dangerous kicked out barely…and I mean BARELY!” exclaims Francis as Johnny’s shoulder leaves the canvas.

 

“JOHN-NY! JOHN-NY! JOHN-NY!” The crowd’s chants do not seem to sit well with the International Champion, who stands and gives Johnny another hard kick to the face before moving down towards the Barracuda’s legs….

 

“And we’ve seen this before, haven’t we, King? Johnny Dangerous tapped out to Alan Clark at From The Fire, and it seems like Clark is hoping lightning strikes twice!” Francis chats over the scene as Alan pulls Johnny’s body upside down and into position, crossing his legs in short order…only for Johnny to pulls his legs down and then fire them straight up, throwing Clark off his feet and across the ring! “Johnny almost went to EPSOT but got away just in the nick of time!” Johnny stands in time to see Alan somersault backwards and to his feet…

 

“JOHNNY KICK!”

 

 

 

 

 

“NO!”

 

WHAAAAM!

 

“CUTTING IN LINE! FOR THE SECOND TIME TONIGHT!!” Alan ducks out of the way and grabs the Barracuda by the back of the head, quickly falling and causing Johnny’s body to bounce violently off the mat! Alan exhaustedly throws his right arm over the tag champion’s chest “Alan Clark has the cover and Landon Maddix is freaking out on the apron!

 

 

One!

 

 

 

“Landon wants to break it! He’s losing his mind!

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

“Here he comes! He’s in the ring and running toward Alan and Johnny!

 

 

 

Threeeeeeeee!!

 

 

Ding! Ding! Ding!

 

 

“He didn’t make it and Mathew Kivell almost got tripped over!” Kivell calls for the bell as Landon falls over him, arms outstretched toward his two opponents. As the referee tries to sort things out in the ring, Funyon’s voice booms over the PA…

 

“Ladies and Gentlemen…as the result of a pinfall…Johnny Dangerous has been ELIMINATED!”

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”

 

“Wildchild is not pleased!” calls the Suicide King as Wildchild helps Johnny from the ring, juggling the two title belts and helping his partner toward the back as the camera follows, the scene splitting in two as one follows Wild and Dangerous backstage and the other keeps an eye on the action in the ring, where Kivell has put himself between Landon Maddix and Alan Clark, giving Alan a moment to get himself back on his feet with some help from the ring ropes.

 

“And would you look at what we are seeing backstage!” calls Francis as Wildchild throws the curtain back for his partner, only to see Tom Flesher leaning against a wall in the gorilla position, a cigarette in his right hand, a half-empty pack in his shirt pocket, and a flask in his left hand making periodic trips to his lips. In front of him sits a few empty chairs and the monitor, where he now sees himself.

 

“I was hoping the others would watch too.” Flesher remarks as he takes another drag and flicks the BUTT across the floor where it will no doubt be picked up by a random intern. “You are welcome to a seat.” But Johnny can do nothing but kick the chair closest to him down the hall, the sound echoing as the Barracuda disappears around a corner. Tom motions for Wildchild to follow before moving for another cigarette. “Get back to the ring, Jerry. Now!” and the scene clicks away, going back to ringside where Kivell has finally decided to let the two men go at it.

 

“Well, that sure was unpleasant, but you know Tom has been almost obsessive over giving the World Heavyweight Championship a good home, and I think there may have even been a little part of him that was hoping Johnny Dangerous would somehow pull out a victory here.”

 

“Compared to these other two, Mak, maybe. There is nothing but bitter respect between both Dangerous and Flesher, and that is saying a lot given how many people in this business Tom has any respect for, bitter or otherwise!” but the two men in the ring know a little bit about respect themselves, at least between each other, as Landon gives Alan all the room he wants, that is until Alan yanks the tie from the back of his hair and throws it behind him, his eyes shooting up and straight towards Landon’s. “And what is this now? Clark thinking he is going to strike fear into the heart of Landon Maddix by letting his hair down?”

 

“Alan knows that he has a bit of an edge on Landon given their history. They’ve each taken away titles from the other, but only one of them is on the line here tonight and Alan WANTS IT!” Francis finishes with a flourish as Alan points his right hand out toward Maddix and then moves his hands to his waist, mouthing something that it seems only the World Champ can hear. “Landon might have been trying to wear down Alan and Johnny by keeping them in the ring together for as long as possible, but it seems Alan’s saving of Landon Maddix might have been because he wants to be the one that puts him down!”

 

“Let’s go!” Kivell screams as each man circles the other as the crowd once again begins to cheer and chant, growing louder and louder with each passing moment.

 

“MAD-DIX! MAD-DIX! MAD-DIX!”

 

“AL-AN SUCKS! AL-AN SUCKS!”

 

“That’s not the kind of dueling chant the International Champion would like to hear!” calls the Franchise, but if Alan Clark can hear them (and he most certainly can) he is not giving them the benefit of seeing it on his face. “And we’ve got a tie-up!”

 

“Landon isn’t one to excel in the strength department, unless he’s lifting cases of Pepsi-Max…” remarks the Suicide King, but the nearly twenty minutes of constant action has taken its toll on Clark, and Maddix quickly takes advantage with a hard pull down and an even harder strike up, slamming his knee into Alan’s chest with authority! “If this is something Alan Clark has been fighting for, he’d better keep fighting or he is going to have a very angry Tom Flesher to answer to.”

 

“Well you try wrestling someone fresh after a long battle already under your belt!”

 

“That was every night of my CAREER!” The Suicide King slams his fist down, drawing the camera to the commentators to see Francis try to calm him down before switching quickly back in ring just in time to see Landon fire off a rapid succession of kicks square into Alan’s left temple as he flounders on the canvas!

 

“Well, it was a shot just like that right there, a hard point to the temple, that wound up getting Alan the Cruiserweight Championship a few months ago, and I am sure Landon knows that the right shot in the right spot will knock a man out!” but before unconsciousness can be reached Landon simply lets Alan fall onto his face. Not exactly satisfied, Landon takes a second to pose with his foot pressed down on the nape of Clark’s neck!

 

“MAD-DIX! MAD-DIX! MAD-DIX!”

 

“What a showboat! This is horrible!” continues the King, but Landon does not pose for long, removing his foot from Alan’s neck for only a split second as he leaps up and comes straight back down, slamming both of his feet between Alan’s shoulder blades! A second bony bounce later and Landon falls down back-first, slamming all of his weight down and into Clark, sending all of his limps shooting out in every direction from the force!

 

“Showboat, maybe, but that combo can really put a hurt on a man’s neck, and with that Land Of Nod submission so tried and so true, especially lately in the career of the champ you have to know it’s exactly what he is going for! He’s made Alan Clark tap out before!”

 

“But Alan has done the same, Mak! Sad as it is, don’t you forget it!”

 

“I am not forgetting it, King, Alan Clark is a fairly accomplished technical wrestler. I know you’ll say he’s no Tom Flesher…”

 

“Nobody is!”

 

“…but he holds some amazing submission victories in his past!” continues Mak, doing his best to steamroll through his partner’s BUTT-kissing as Landon keeps on the neck and head of Clark, returning back to a facelock and rolling Clark up and into the Wet Cement!

 

“Now he’s got Alan Clark trapped in the cement! Tom Flesher is damn near ready to break that monitor back there!”

 

“It is proven effective! Alan Clark is flailing!” Kivell begins to try and check for submission, but his attempts to get close cause him to simply be pushed away by Clark as the International Champion groans and moans against the hold, slamming his forearms into Landon’s ribs and rocking his body, trying to do anything he can to escape!

 

“COME ON, LANDON!” Megan can be heard screaming at the top of her lungs, the complete opposite of the stone-faced Walter Reynolds, who gives her nothing more than a quick glance as he tries to keep his own composure intact.

 

“Landon is fighting with all he can to keep the hold locked on, but Alan is pulling his own body sideways to fight away….and he does!” Clark is finally able to put his own body sideways, pinning Landon’s left leg down and giving Alan the opportunity to swing his left knee back and then forward, slamming it into Landon’s tailbone, the painful shiver overcoming Maddix is enough to break the hold, leaving Clark to roll away and Landon to slowly get back to his feet, rubbing his lower back from the shockwave that just shot through it. “Alan escapes the Wet Cement, but how much longer can he stave off the World Champion?!” Francis throws out the question, leaving the Suicide King to grumble in response…

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“This crowd really thought it might have been over right there and they are not happy that Alan broke free!” but a few seconds of jeers are nothing to Alan compared to the pain in his neck, his body slumped over on the mat with only his knees, hands, and side of his face on the canvas as he tries to sit back up…

 

 

 

SMAAAACK!

 

 

 

 

...only to EAT the right knee of Landon Maddix!!

 

“Shining Wizard TO THE FACE!!” screams the Franchise, but the force of the blow sends Alan backwards and rolling toward the outside of the ring, more by sheer momentum than by any thought on his part. His body lands just a few feet from Walter Reynolds, who backs up immediately at the request of Matthew Kivell.

 

“If Landon Maddix had been paying attention he might have just won the match! Now he’s giving Alan some time to catch his breath!”

 

“I don’t think he’s giving him any time, King!” Mak calls as Landon slides to the outside and pulls Alan up, taking note of the glaze in the International Champion’s eyes before he throws him back under the ropes. “He’s smiling! More than he has as of late to be sure! And there’s the cover as he slides back into the ring!”

 

One!

 

 

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Three!!

 

 

NOOOOOOO!!

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”

 

 

“Alan Clark got his shoulder up! Alan Clark got his shoulder up and Landon Maddix can’t believe it!”

 

“I told you…” replies the Suicide King as Landon immediately rolls Clark to his back and goes right back to work with the facelock, wrenching Alan’s neck as hard as he can as he stands and pulls Alan up as he goes. With all the focus on his opponent, Landon drags Alan toward the corner, pushing his own back into the turnbuckles before jumping out, around, and straight down…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

…driving Alan face-first into the mat with a picture-perfect Tornado DDT and follows with a pin!

 

 

One!

 

 

 

“That’s it! Alan Clark is OUT! This cover is completely academic…”

 

 

 

 

Two!!

 

 

 

 

“Get the champagne ready in Madrid!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Threeeeeeeeee!!

 

 

 

 

“SHOULDER UP! SHOULDER UP! MY GOD!” And as something Landon has no doubt bore witness to before, the sound of the ring bell does not greet him as he looks up but instead it is the left hand of Alan Clark hanging in the air, almost hoping that Maddix will see it there.

 

“And Maddix is (bleep)SSED!”

 

“The censors almost missed that one, King, but you are right! He is pulling Clark back up to his feet like a slab of meat!” exclaims the Franchise as Landon drags Alan up and, with little fanfare, locks in a front chancery - setting his sights back toward the turnbuckle! “Could be the Shiranui! This can transition into the Land of Nod like a salad to a steak…” the analogy flops, but not Landon Maddix as he leaps into the air and hits the ropes…

 

 

SPPROOOOOING!

 

 

“Here comes the flip…but Alan is holding him back!” There is a low gasp throughout the crowd as Alan’s hands clutch out at Landon’s tights almost by intuition, keeping the World Champion from completing his flip and instead bringing him down straight onto the top of his head!!

 

THUD!

 

“GOOD LORD!” scream both announcers at near the same instant, “Alan Clark just spiked Landon Maddix!” but as Landon falls onto his side and Megan nearly has a stroke on the outside, Clark himself does very little besides rolling onto his own side, the replay repeating over and over from a few different angles as Kivell begins his count on the two downed superstars…

 

“One!”

 

“That was insane! It might not have been intentional, but it might have just swayed the tide back to Clark’s side. I mean, just look at the way Landon’s body compressed there!”

 

“Two!”

 

“I see it, King, as did everyone watching at home and everyone here tonight. A surprise Backlot Suplex, of sorts, and that is the kind of thing that could cause a concussion if not worse!”

 

“Three!”

 

“Get up, Landon! Get up!” calls Megan, and even Walter has moved closer to the ring, putting both of his hands on the apron as he looks toward the two men still laying mostly motionless in the ring.

 

“Four!”

 

“This can’t end this way! Landon Maddix might be out cold! We can’t have a knocked out World Champion!”

 

“I don’t think he’s completely out. I have seen some movement from both men…”

 

“Five!” calls Kivell and sure enough both men begin to stir, with Alan working to get his knees underneath himself as Landon begins a slumped crawl toward the ropes and the waiting Megan, who tries to remain both out of the way enough to keep out of Kivell’s radar but close enough to try and help out her man as the color starts to come back to his vision. “Six…”

 

“Alan is almost up!” Alan finally gets up to his knees and stands defiantly, but only for a moment before once again collapsing back down to one knee, doing just enough to break Kivell’s count and call that the match shall continue as Landon’s right hand reaches the bottom rope!

 

“This is gut-check time, to steal a cliché, and Alan Clark might have just saved himself!” The Suicide King, along with everyone else, keeps a close eye on the ring as Alan throws both of his hands around his neck and groans loudly, his eyes rapidly moving from wide open to tightly clenched as he tries to get a glimpse of where Maddix ended up, finally noticing the world champion clutching at the ropes as he works to stand up, every advantage he had seemingly blown away in one mind-numbing fall.

 

“Landon Maddix tried for that shiranui because it has led to victories before and you have to know the Land Of Nod was only seconds away if he would have connected!”

 

“But he didn’t and now just look at him!!” adds the King as the ringside camera zooms in on Maddix’s face to show it awash and featuring a slight glaze as he fights back to even keel in time to see Alan moving his way…

 

SMACK!

 

“What a forearm from Landon Maddix! Where did that come from?!” the shot knocks Clark backwards and the champ shakes away the cobwebs and tries to regain the offensive edge by quickly following up, tossing Alan towards the ropes and catching him on the rebound with a harsh, and only somewhat sloppy, Samoan Drop!

 

“He almost couldn’t even get Alan Clark up, but the momentum was definitely a help and there is another cover!”

 

One!

 

 

Two!

 

 

Three!

 

 

“NO! Clark kicks out once again! He knows he can defeat Landon Maddix and he’s done it on the 13th Hour stage before! He’ll go an hour if he has to!”

 

“Okay, no thank you on that one…”

 

“Unlike three years ago, this match has no time limit and is only one fall to the championship! And, if my memory serves me, it was Landon Maddix that took the first fall in that Iron Man contest and he looks like he is very close from doing it once again here tonight – but this time it will be victory.”

 

“Can’t you ever see things my way for once!” laments the King as Landon’s face shows that maybe, just maybe, the champ has had enough and turns himself around to face the downed Clark, who has rolled to his side to defend against any second-chance pin attempts. The ninety-degree twist may have done just that, but it may have given Maddix the opportunity he needs…

 

 

 

 

 

 

…to snatch on the Land of Nod!!!

 

“YEEAAAAAAAAAH!!!”

 

“LAND OF NOD! He’s got Alan’s body bent backwards and locked –“

 

 

“GAAAH!”

 

“Ooooh!” Francis reacts vocally as Landon reacts physically to Alan’s thumb going straight into his eye, the stab whipping Maddix back violently and setting Clark free, if only to have to listen to Kivell screaming in his ear. “I don’t know how intentional that was given the circumstances. It seems he might have been just trying to get his hands around Landon’s head and missed. I know there’s a chance I could. Let’s go to the replay.” And as Kivell checks on both Alan and Landon the replay shows both of Alan’s hands going back and over his head, the thumb of his right hand catching Landon’s right eye as Landon’s body twists to try and get the best grip possible. “I think I’m going to have to say that was an accident right there.”

 

“Who cares!? Landon might be blind!” and indeed Landon is still holding his right eye as he gets up to his knees, moving his hand enough for Kivell to take a check over it and for the camera to zoom in and show just a small amount of blood trickling across it. “I see blood!”

 

“A blood vessel might have been broken there, and I’m not even sure Alan knows what he did, just that he got away from the Land of Nod!” Alan, indeed, looks none the wiser as he again collapses and rolls to his chest, looking up and across the ring to see Maddix holding his face in pain. The camera that was had been on Landon pans to Clark to show that, even through the harsh breathing for air, Alan looks to be smiling – his hair dangling disheveled over his face.

 

“I think he knows now!”

 

“Whatever advantage Landon Maddix might have had is completely out the window!” And as Kivell is brushed away by Landon, the champ is met with a few knuckles straight below his brow, no doubt sending a harsh flash of white light across his vision as Alan Clark connects with a stiff right hand. “And that was a closed fist to the eye! That kind of thing can end a man’s career!”

 

“I’d say wrestling Alan Clark should be the end of your career, cause there is no lower you can go when it’s over!” but, comments from the Gambling Man aside and even with warnings from the referee, Alan stays on top of Maddix as much as he can, giving up the closed fists for a blindingly (no pun intended) quick DDT!

 

“Even more damage to Landon Maddix’s face now, and win or lose here tonight he might have a lot of problems in his next big commercial. Just look at that face!” the ringside camera zooms in on Maddix’s eyes as he rolls away from Clark after the DDT, showing a bit more blood slipping out from just above his eyebrow! “Alan Clark might have busted him open with those closed fists!”

 

“Not exactly Disney-like, Francis!” but Clark stays on top of Maddix, throwing himself on top for a pinning attempt and making use of his left forearm by digging it straight into Landon’s face!

 

One!

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

 

Threeee…NO!!

 

 

“Landon kicked out, but it doesn’t seem to be much of a deterrent to Alan Clark right now!” With Kivell making sure Alan knows it was only a two, the International Champion almost completely brushes it off as he stands and then quickly drops straight back down, driving his right elbow right between the eyes of…

 

“CU-CA-RA-CHA!” *clap clap clapclapclap*

 

“This crowd is doing whatever they can to get Landon back into this match short of diving over the railing!” Mak Francis, maybe over-reacting slightly, tries to put into words the loud chanting of the crowd for Landon Maddix, who tries to fight through the seering pain and partial blindness that has come from the blood trickling down across his face. Alan appears to try and give him room, whether at Kivell’s request or not, positioning himself to Maddix’s back as Landon climbs to his knees and swipes at the air, nearly connecting with the referee who has to verbally assure the World Champion of his identity as he tries to check him over.

 

“Landon!!” Megan calls, her voice catching her man’s attention and turning his head about back and forth, but doing little else to warn him of Alan rushing up behind him, clutching at the back of his head and driving him down into the mat with a harsh bulldog! “Dammit, Landon!” she can once again be heard as Alan pops to his feet and, after giving her a quick smile and a wave, he rushes toward the ropes and springs off the second, somersaulting backwards through the air and making sure to bring all of his weight down across Landon’s head, neck, and back!

 

“A Walk In The Park! That’s exactly what this match is seemingly turning into for Alan Clark!” but landing on Maddix’s hard head seems to have affected Alan, as he pops up from the moonsault and rolls across the ring on his stomach, the hard head of the champ actually doing some good.

 

“Too bad he has all the aim of Ralphie Parker!”

 

“Well, he did almost take Maddix’s eye out…” Mak adds as Alan stands back up, visibly sucking in wind as he moves towards the barely moving Landon Maddix. Clark leans in, pulling at Landon’s shoulder and rolling him onto his knees, and then begins kicking Maddix between the eyes just as he had done to Alan just a few short minutes ago! “Not the most powerful striker in the company, for sure, but you can see the bloodletting that is going on as those kicks connect!”

 

“CLARK! He’s got the ropes!” screams referee Kivell as Landon lunges for the bottom rope, his arm wrapping around it as Alan throws out one last hard kick , sending a dribble of spit and blood down onto the canvas from out of Maddix’s mouth.

 

“See! Now that is the kind of image I like to see from Landon (bleep)ing Maddix!”

 

“He looks like the victim of a car wreck! This is insane!” but Alan does give his opponent a few feet of separation, only to move back in and clutch at Maddix’s legs the first chance he can get, yanking him away from the ropes and into the center of the ring! “Alan’s got him again, and though he couldn’t get Johnny Dangerous to go, he might be able to lock in EPSOT right here and right –NO!!”

 

“YEAAAAAAAAAA---“

 

One!

 

“Maddix Small package!”

 

Two!

 

“—OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

 

“Clark powers out!!” screams the Franchise as Alan tries to pull Landon into his signature submission, only to have himself dragged down and over and straight onto his shoulders, the International Champion barely powering free from the surprise pinfall attempt. “Landon Maddix almost by instinct could have just won this match and kept his championship intact!”

 

“And I’m not the only one that isn’t happy about it!” Alan has managed to get up to his feet, his mouth agape as he stares at the slowly standing and crimson-masked Landon Maddix…“BIG TIME LARIAT COMING UP!”

 

“DUCKED!”

 

“YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

 

 

 

 

WHAM!!

 

“COMPLETE SHOT! Landon Maddix connects with the Complete Shot and there’s a COVER!”

 

Oneeeee!

 

 

 

 

 

Twooooooooo!!

 

 

 

 

 

Threeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!

 

 

 

“NO! Alan Clark kicks out! This match is not over! No matter what Megan planned, or what Landon Maddix or Alan Clark want, and no matter what Tom Flesher is thinking as these two men fight for their footing in that ring – it can go either way!” Indeed, both men stare each other down, Maddix through the blood in his eyes and Clark from behind his frazzled hair with Mathew Kivell in between them trying to keep on his toes.

 

“Tom Flesher just wants a good fight! This is a big money match and that’s all he cares about!”

 

“Way to spin, King, way to…and there’s a tie-up in the center of the ring!” Francis is interrupted as the two men meet, only for Alan Clark to suddenly fly out of the hold and drop to his knees, a bright flash of red covering his face as his hands move to his eyes!

 

“What the (bleep)! Did he just…did he…?”

 

“Landon Maddix might have just given Alan Clark a taste of bloodmist! We could hardly tell given that tie-up, and Kivell looks even more confused than the International Champion!” Maddix, however, simply wipes off the rest of his face with his hands and moves behind Alan, pushing past Kivell …

 

…and looking for the Land Of Nod!

 

“YEAAAAAAAH!!”

 

“He’s got it, he’s—no! Alan slipped free and finds the ropes!” Alan hits the ropes and hangs across the bottom with his chest, only for Maddix to move in straight behind him, leaning between the top and middle ropes and clutching at the head of Clark before pulling him back through and pretzeling his body in the ring ropes! “LAND OF NOD IN THE ROPES!!! Alan Clark is screaming!”

 

Clark does indeed let out a groan of pain as Kivell screams for a break…

 

“One!”

 

“Two!”

 

“Three!”

 

“Four!”

 

Landon breaks the hold just before the five count, leaving Alan to slump back down and hang limply over the bottom rope.

 

“That was uncalled for! Is that the kind of World Champion you want?!”

 

“Don’t you even try to act like Alan has never spit blood in someone’s face, King!” replies Mak as Kivell backs Maddix away from the ropes, leaving Clark to pull himself back in the ring and throw himself up on the second rope….

 

 

 

OOMPH!!!

 

 

…only to suddenly have the full weight of Landon Maddix slam down on his lower back! Landon bounces back and into the ring as Alan collapses to the canvas, but there is little rest for the weary. A harsh pull later and Landon finds himself and his prey closer to the center of the ring, and he drops for a lateral press and a cover…

 

One!

 

 

 

 

 

Twoooooo!

 

 

 

 

Threeeeeeeeeee!

 

 

“NO! Clark’s keeping alive! He wants that title!”

 

“If he wins are we going to be closed down in a month?” asks King, thinking back to how the SJL closed its doors just a few short years ago. “I ain’t exactly going to the other company for a job.”

 

“MAD-DIX! MAD-DIX! MAD-DIX!”

 

“You act like they’d hire you…” mutters Francis as Landon gives the crowd a knowing nod and pulls Alan back up to his feet, spinning him around and trying to lock his arm around his neck.... “And it could be Crash Landon time! The Land Of Nod has yet to work the way Landon wants it to and—Alan’s fighting back!”

 

Alan struggles at the hold, and succeeds in pushing Landon away, only for Maddix to turn and rush back in at full speed…

 

 

 

 

OOOOOOO…

 

WHAM!

 

“ILLUMINATOR!! My god!”

 

“YES!” The Suicide King is pleased as Landon’s body smashes into the canvas, leaving Alan to pop off the mat, looking exasperated – the toll of the match really showing in his eyes as they pan down toward Maddix and the smile can slowly be seen returning. An animalistic growl escapes his lips as he pulls the World Champion to his feet and drags him toward the center of the ring and into a standing headscissors.

 

“And after that Illuminator, it might be time for the Vacation to be OVER!” Mak calls as Alan pulls Landon’s arms behind his back and looks to lift him into the air…

 

“NO!”

 

“YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!”

 

“Landon escaped!!”

 

Maddix goes deadweight, but only long enough to get his hands free before coming up like a shot, driving his forearm square into Clark’s chin, the uppercut sending the International champ stumbling backwards...

 

 

 

…only to turn around to Maddix coming straight for him!

 

“SUPERKICK!”

 

 

“He ducked it, Francis! NO, WAIT!” The Suicide King’s deflates as Landon barely gets his right foot to waist level before Alan ducks out of the way, leaving Maddix to smartly dive on Clark’s back and try to lock in the Land Of Nod once again!

 

“And now here comes the Land Of Nod and I don’t think Alan Clark is going to be able to get away this time!” but Clark fights, bucking and kicking his body like a bronco against Landon’s grasp, spinning them around and around…

 

 

…and straight into the turnbuckle, sandwiching Landon Maddix in between the corner and Alan Clark’s back!

 

“He still has that facelock hooked in, but Clark is holding both sides of the ropes and Kivell is calling for a break!” Mak Francis sounds like he is about to jump out of his wheelchair as Landon breaks the hold and Alan collapses to his back and works to get himself back toward the center of the ring. The moment Kivell clears, however, Maddix is right back on the attack and tries once again to lock in the submission hold as Alan crawls away. “Clark trying to get away but he’s looking for it again!”

 

“He’s a tenacious little (bleep), I’ll give him that” mutters the Suicide King as Landon pulls Alan up, but once again he finds himself being thrown backwards as Clark launches his own body into Landon’s, slamming him into the corner for the second time in less than a minute!

 

“Landon looks stunned! That kind of shot will take the wind right out of you!” and sure enough, Maddix sucks in some air as Clark pulls himself up, only to turn and once again find Landon rushing in…

 

 

…but Clark is able to get himself in position for a lift!

 

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO---“

 

 

THUUUUD!

 

“Call it a Hot Shot! Call it Snake Eyes! Call it whatever you want but that might have just knocked Landon Maddix OUT!” The replay shows the reversal-slash-counter putting Landon into the turnbuckle face-first, leaving him to simply drop down in the corner, the blood he had previously wiped away looks to be coming back. “And that blood is still pouring and if he isn’t out right now, he’d better at least hope that crimson mask is blinding enough that he isn’t going to see this coming…”

 

 

SMAACK!

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!”

 

“HOLY (BLEEP)!” both announcers trigger the censors this time as Alan Clark’s right foot drilled Landon head, sideways, into the second turnbuckle. Under the bleep, a keen listener might have made out Megan Skye letting out a curdling scream at the sight of her man’s face being buried into the corner.

 

“AL-AN SUCKS! AL-AN SUCKS!”

 

“That’s it, he’s out…he’s out….” Mak can do very little but repeat the phrase over and over as Alan drags Landon into the middle of the ring and holds him up with his arms behind his back, taking his time to lift him into the air and over his shoulder before SNAPPING him down and to the canvas! “The Vacation’s Over! Insult to injury! There’s the cover…”

 

 

One!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Three!!

 

 

Ding! Ding! Ding!

 

GOOONG.

 

The bell sounds and the jeering crowd quiets, watching as Alan Clark leans his body off of Landon’s and rolls toward the edge of the ring, leaving under one set of ropes as Megan slides under another and moves to her man, his body not having moved under it’s own power since it got dropped into the turnbuckle.

 

“Landon Maddix had the advantage until Alan dropped him on his head and proceeded to, accidentally or not, bust him open. Then it just became a game of survival as Landon tried to protect his head and Alan fought and fought and continued to escape time and time again from the Land of Nod, and we see what it has left us with…” Mak remains professional as the Suicide King cheers next to him, waiting to hear the official announcement from Funyon…

 

 

“Ladies and Gentlemen…the winner of this match by pinfall and NEEEEEEEW S-W-F HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION OF THE WOOOOORLD….The “Happiest Guy On Earth” ALAAAAN CLAAAAARK!”

 

“Oh I just can’t WAAAAAAAIT to be KIIIING!”

 

“The wait is over! Do you hear that music, Francis! Landon Maddix’s reign is no more!” cries the King as Kivell raises Alan Clark’s hand in the air, handing him both the International and, more importantly, World Heavyweight Championship titles.

 

“I never thought you’d be so happy to see Alan Clark win the world title, King, but nevertheless he has done it. He can barely walk, but that’s still more than what Landon Maddix can do as he still has made little movement in the ring.” Alan takes a moment to raise both championships in the air before giving Landon and Megan a glance. It was one of the hardest half hours of his life, but he did it.

 

“So now you just have to wonder what Tom Flesher is doing backstage.”

 

“I don’t think we’ll have to wait and find out, Mak! Look!” a spotlight hits the entranceway before Walter Reynolds and Alan Clark can make it there, showing Tom Flesher standing there and awaiting his new champion. Walter freezes, but Alan shakes free and stumbles up the ramp and onto the stage, a title on each shoulder. “This could be good! Get that camera closer!”

 

The camera moves in as Tom and Alan meet face-to-face, each staring at the other with no words between them. After a brief moment Tom points at the International Championship and leans down to Alan’s face.

 

“I’ll want that on my desk A-S-A-P.” and reaches to shake Alan’s hand!

 

“The International Championship is apparently being stripped away from Alan Clark, but with that other belt he has just won here tonight I doubt he’ll miss it! There he is, folks, Alan Clark, new World Heavyweight Champion, defeating Landon Maddix and Johnny Dangerous here tonight!” Mak’s voice is the last one heard, outside of the crowd’s last explosion of jeers, the sounds fading out as Tom leaves Alan and Walter on the stage, in the spotlight, and holding both championship titles high in the air.

 

The final image splits, showing Landon’s eyes opening to look up to the ramp at the man who, once again at 13th Hour, defeated him for his championship.

 

 

 

Fade.

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