Ace309 0 Report post Posted June 11, 2007 Hardy: "Ben Hardy backstage here, and we are standing with 'The Dean of Professsional Wrestling', Jay Hawke." "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO" Hardy: "And Jay, you scored a tremendous victory over Zyon at 13th Hour to become the number one contender to the International Championship but with Alan Clark's victory in the main event to become the new World Heavyweight Champion, that championship is currently vacant." Hawke: "Let me teach you a wrestling lesson that should put my feelings on the matter into perspective for you. See, in 1981 when Verne Gagne decided he was better than anybody else in the AWA despite being fifty years past his prime, he vacated a World Championship, and it went to the number one contender. When Brock Lesnar decided he didn't want to work twice a week and his title was no longer undisputed, a new championship was formed and the number one contender was granted the gold. When Manny Fernandez and Rick Rude left Jim Crockett Promotions within a week of each other, they invented a match to justify a title switch to the number one contenders." Hardy: "Is there a point to all this?" Hawke: "The point is this, simpleton. I don't know what Tom Flesher has in mind for that vacant title, but I am demanding he award it to me as number one contender!" Hardy: "You think he's going to agree to it?" Hawke: "Let me put it this way. If he wants a roster in a few weeks, he'd better." Hardy: "That's it for me. We'll be right back." Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Ace309 0 Report post Posted June 11, 2007 “Who have we got coming up now, King?” Mak Francis asks, shuffling through his notes. The Suicide King looks exasperated. “How the hell should I know?” he snaps, “it’s not like we’ve got a list of matches, or, or a… running order or anything…” He takes a swig of his Dr. Pepper. “I mean, maybe no-one will come out for the next fifteen minutes! There’s no structure here Francis, the first warning we get is someone’s music hitti-” The lights white out, every single one in the arena hitting full. The Smartron goes with them, switching to a screen almost painful in its brightness. A faint *skritch-skritch* sound starts to creep from the PA system, the sound of a needle gently scraping over vinyl. “Well, this is a pleasant surprise,” King says, smiling. “WEL-WEL-W-W-WELCOME TO THE REVOLUTION!” The deep voice booms out across the St. Pete Times Forum with the skittering jump of a scratched record, followed instantly by the elliptical guitar of Rage Against The Machine’s ‘Know Your Enemy’. The words ‘REV-0’ flash up onto the Smarktron and start rotating, first one way and then the other, with occasional split-second flashes of the members - a lopsided grin, a bulky figure in a leather jacket, hands holding the Cruiserweight Title belt, a girl with a can of lager in her hand. Smoke starts to rise from the soundstage as the drums come in and slowly the lights start to fade down… “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” The fans know what (and indeed who) is coming and make their feelings known, but they’re momentarily drowned out as the main guitar riff hits. A few seconds later and three massive pyro explosions detonate on the soundstage- *BOOOM!* *BOOOM!* *BOOOM!* ‘KNOW YOUR ENEMY!’ -and out come Revolution Zero! Toxxic comes first, leading the way with his trenchcoat flapping behind him and the familiar lopsided grin on his face despite the hellish match he went through against his former friend Gabriel Drake a few days ago; then comes The Fabulous Jakey in a glittery pink jacket with his Cruiserweight Title strapped firmly around his waist; Austin Sly comes next, sneering around at the fans, while bringing up the rear (eventually) comes Toxxic’s sister Amy, swigging lager and generally ignoring her surroundings. “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the ring at this time,” Funyon announces, despite knowing he’s wasting his breath, “REVOLUTION ZEEEEEEERRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOO!!” “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Toxxic rolls into the ring and beckons to the veteran ring announcer, then takes possession of the microphone as Funyon exits the squared circle. The fans continue to boo and jeer as the Straight-Edge Sensation looks around, but Toxxic’s been booed by bigger and nastier crowds than those in Florida, so he shrugs it off. “Y’know,” Toxxic begins conversationally, “there were people who asked why I was reforming Revolution Zero, and there were also people who asked why specifically I had chosen these two,” he jerks one black-nailed thumb over his shoulder at Sly and Jakey, “to reform it with. People seemed to think that it wouldn’t ‘live up’ to the old days, for some reason. Live up to what, exactly?” He starts to tick points off on his fingers. “Sean Davis, I mean he’s a nice guy, but about as reliable as a chocolate kettle.” [“Four Hardcore reigns and two runs with the tag titles,” King notes. “More like a slow jog with the tag titles,” Mak replies, “did either time last more than about two weeks?”] “Then of course there was Spike Jenkins,” Toxxic adds with a grin, “and I think we all know what I think about the so-called ‘New Straight-Edge Sensation’. Not a bad wrestler, but his ego caused him to, shall we say, overreach himself?” [“Record-breaking Cruiserweight Title run,” King puts in, “plus a tag run with Sean Davis.” “Did Spike defend that title against anyone except Kaine and… well, Austin Sly?” Mak asks.] “Sacred…” Toxxic says, grimacing. “Yeah, well, I don’t think he ever was in Revolution Zero anyway.” [“Two-time World Champion,” Suicide King points out happily. “Come on, even Toxxic’s not claiming that he was actually in the group,” Mak snorts.] “Scott Pretzler, who managed to be both obnoxious and self-centered whilst also being one of the most talented mat wrestlers in the company,” Toxxic continues, “so all in all a fitting replacement for Spike… apart from the bit about being one of the most talented mat wrestlers in the company,” he concludes with a grin. [“Another Cruiserweight Champion,” King nods, “and Your Personal Jesus, Mak.” “Mine?” “Well, he should be. Rotator cuffs have a lot to answer for.”] “And finally of course, JJ Johnson,” Toxxic finishes, “whose ability to choke opponents out was only surpassed by his own tendency to choke in big matches.” [“Longest reigning Cruiserweight Champion of all time,” King says, “and one bad mofo.” “Word.”] “Now, look at Austin Sly and The Fabulous Jakey, if you please,” Toxxic continues, directing the audiences attention towards the other two members of Revolution Zero. “See what Jakey’s got around his waist? Hold it up Jakey, let them see…” Grinning widely, The Fabulous Jakey unbuckles his Cruiserweight Title and lifts it over his head, turning on the spot so all four corners of the arena can see it clearly. Needless to say, the response is not a great one. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “The Fabulous Jakey is your two-time Cruiserweight Champion,” Toxxic announces, “and you know who he beat to win it? Wildchild!” “DUB-CEE!” “DUB-CEE!” “DUB-CEE!” “Yeah yeah, Dub-Cee Dub-Cee rah-rah-rah,” Toxxic cuts in, doing a little shuffling dance as he mocks the fans, “newsflash, morons; chanting his name didn’t work at 13th Hour, did it?” “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “Ah, stow it,” the straight-edger laughs, flipping a two-fingered salute at the crowd, “don’t take it out on us because your precious high-wire artist was stupid enough to try and beat someone of Jakey’s ability with the same move twice! You see, a Revolution is always developing, always moving on, always gathering pace, whereas Wildchild has one bag of tricks that he can’t leave behind.” “Pulling the tights isn’t very revolutionary,” Mak Francis chips in, “I mean, you did that for years King.” “Jakey never pulled the tights!” Suicide King exclaims in horror, “and even if he did, he was simply upholding a long-standing tradition of beating Wildchild for the Cruiserweight Title. And he didn’t get caught, so it doesn’t count.” “Now, let us move on to Austin Sly,” Toxxic says, clapping the heavier man on the shoulder. “Austin was in the Hardcore Title match at 13th Hour but I’ve got to say Sly, it doesn’t look like you emerged with a title.” Sly looks down at his waist and shakes his head in mock-sadness while Toxxic turns around to look out at the crowd. “But that doesn’t matter,” the Englishman continues, addressing the audience, “and you know why? Because Austin was neither pinned, nor made to submit! Jimmy The Doom made MANSON tap out, not Austin! Which means that MANSON can go back to rabble-rousing, wandering around in a cloak and generally acting like he’s the second coming of Palpatine-” “I want to see MANSON shoot lightning from his fingers,” King cuts in. “Why would he need it when he has laser eyes?” Mak shrugs. “-and Austin here can get another shot at Jimmy The Doom, this time without some messiah-wannabe getting in the way and fouling things up!” Toxxic finishes. “See, Austin’s got an enormous amount of potential, but when you’ve got a music career to fall back on maybe you don’t always push yourself as hard as you can, am I right?” He looks around at Sly, who shrugs amiably. “YOU CAN’T SING!” “YOU CAN’T SING!” “Now, I’ve got my own little announcement to make in the aftermath of 13th Hour,” Toxxic adds, “a little message to go out to one Gabriel Drake.” “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “Well, yes,” Toxxic says, looking pleased as the crowd boo the name of his opponent and enemy, “see Gabe, I don’t know where you are. I don’t know how are, and to be honest I don’t care. You came to this company with one intention - to ruin my life like you felt I ruined yours, years ago. Didn’t happen though, did it? You managed to take the World Title from me, but when we stepped up for another go it looks like I came out on top.” He levels one black-nailed finger at the camera, presumably for Drake’s benefit if he’s watching. “We’re at one-one, Gabe. If you’ve got the balls to come back at me for a decider, I’ll be waiting.” “You know King, much as I enjoyed their match at 13th Hour I don’t think I want to see Gabriel Drake and Toxxic go at it again,” Mak Francis remarks, “because next time I’m not sure if either of them would walk away!” “You know, Peters teamed Toxxic and Landon up,” King muses, “why not team Toxxic and Drake up and send them after Wild & Dangerous?” “Good God, no,” Mak says in horror. “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “I’d just like to leave you with a little thought,” Toxxic says, turning away to face his compatriots again but still addressing the fans. “I said before that the Revolution is always evolving… and I don’t just mean the people who are already in it.” The lopsided grin creeps over his face again. “Don’t expect things to stay the way they are, people. The call has gone out, and the Revolutionaries are answering. So for everyone who expected Revolution Zero to fade away…” Florida knows what’s coming, but they can’t stop it. “…prepare to be proved wrong.” ‘Know Your Enemy’ kicks in again and the four members of the new Revolution Zero start to leave up the ramp. Jakey is still holding onto his Cruiserweight Title, determined not to let it out of his grasp, Toxxic’s still grinning and Austin Sly and Amy Stephens are exchanging a few words as they bring up the rear. “King, do you think Toxxic’s actually found some new members or is just trying to stir the pot a bit?” Mak asks. “I don’t know, but if he has I hope it goes better than last time when he brought Sacred in and the whole thing started to crack,” Suicide King replies. “Fans, we’ll be back after this short break, don’t go away!” Mak calls. FADE OUT Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Ace309 0 Report post Posted June 11, 2007 "Welcome back to Storm, and up…" The arena lights drop, cueing a guttural, distorted warbling from the speakers, which brings the fans up to their feet as tension among them builds. "…next…" Then a final growl kicks "Scientific Remote Viewing" by Cephalic Carnage into gear, as flashing strobes begin to pulse, while smoke billows out from the stage and the crowd begins to boo. The curtain parts and MANSON walks out, clad in a large, hooded cloak and metallic mask, under which his true form resides, as darkness piercing spotlights shine down upon him. "MANSON is here, just what I wanted," says a disgusted Francis, while Suicide King stands. "And don't rise for him, man." He strides down the aisle, his eyes never straying from the ring, as the numerous chains on his person rattle ominously with each step. On his approach he slides in under the bottom rope and stands, pulling a mic from under his cloak and raising it up to face level. "And he has a microphone with him. The only thing worse than watching him pearl harbor defenseless individuals is hearing him ramble." "Hey! He shows respect to everyone here, so I'm sure he'd appreciate some in return, Mak." "I was the man of the Hour," he begins, "the one with the power, too sweet to be sour! Yeah!" "Who is he now, Billy Graham?!" "He is whoever he wants to be." "Well he's cribbed from everyone else." "You could feel it in the air, the storm clouds were gathering above… lightning flashing, thunder booming… blood boiling… ready to explode, the night was right, yeah, it was. The owerwhelming, dooming force… it was in full effect, the Stampede was rocking and rolling, in fact… MANSONOSITY WAS RUNNING WILD!" "Can we just lock him up already? How is he still employed here?!" "It was running through my body, in these veins of mine, the pulse of life. In my hands was the truth of the universe and I was on top of the world! I climbed that mountain, from the top of Olympus I looked down, surveying my domain and everything I rule over, then… a jolt straight to the chest! I fell back down to Earth, thousands of feet through the air, faster, faster and faster, then crashing to the ground and shaking the planet, it opened up and swallowed me whole, and left a crater to mark the land." "Tell me what he just said." "It was pretty clear to me, Mak." "You're his friend, aren't you? I'm asking you to please get him some help." "But then, from the dirt I rose, walking miles to the battleground that still lay ahead through the quakes and lava triggered by my crash, but found it was over. The fall I took, the impact of which shook the land and killed the dinosaurs, that's what it took to put me to rest, Jimmy The Doom, but here I am again. Yeah, I stood up from that dent in the Earth, man, through it all I rose again, and walked some more, like Moses I parted the sea, until I reached here tonight to stand in front of all the faithful MANSONITES out here!" "BOOOOOOOO!" "Now there are MANSONITES?!" "Ever since the Cult of MANSONOSITY came into being." "Living Colour, right?" "The pamphlet, Mak." "There was nothing like that in there, I read it months ago." "That's the old one, the new one elaborates on the latest directive, the new manifesto, if you will." "The one about reducing to SWF to ashes, right? I think I'll pass. With all the SWF doom and gloom that's the last thing I need to read." "It's not too late for you, Mak." "You know what I'm talking about, Jimmy The Doom, if that is your real name. You may have tried your best to spare the SWF by slaying the dragon, but I'm unbreakable, there's nothing you or anyone can do to kill me, man, and that's because MANSON CAN NEVER DIE!" "BOOOOOOOOOO!" "Thank you. And by the way, Doom, I looked… and it's real intersting about you, yeah, real interesting. I looked and Doomtopia doesn't even exist, you idiot! You're living in a fantasyland, Jimmy The Doom! You are living a lie! I bet you're not even Straight Bread! You don't live where I do, Jimmy, in the real world, doing real things with my power. Stop lying to these poor, misguided people… look into truth and the reality of MANSONOSITY that stands in front of you before I'm forced to take you downtown to Chinatown and beat some sense into you, yeah. Though it's not my place anymore to save you, so it's more appropiate to say, you should save yourself before then." "This doesn't… he's telling OTHERS to stop living in a fabricated world?!" "He may be a little… eccentric, but he's the one with the most sense around here." "Yeah. There's only one reality, Jimmy, and his name is MANSON! But that's something that Landon doesn't seem to get. I've heard rumblings in the back that you're displeased with me, friend. The fact is you were supposed to keep that belt, Landon, and I was supposed to take it from you, that was the plan before 13th Hour, two in one, yeah, two in one, but you didn't do it!" "You tell him, MANSON!" shouts King. "You tell him!" "The one thing you have that I want of yours is gone, Maddix. Yeah, I already took you out and I'm betting I could do it again, but there's no point to it anymore except to try and break your neck, but there's no reason now. Go play with Zyon or head after Toxxic again. Because you don't matter to me anymore!" "BOOOOOOOOOOOO!" "That's harsh, King." "But oh so true." "At any rate, I can't figure out what his problem with Landon is." "You heard him, it's about what MANSON wants and what everyone's problem with Maddix is, but I'm not the Messiah's spokesman by any means." "You could've fooled me." "But you should be grateful, Maddix, because your life is yours, it's no longer in my possession. So keep one thing in mind, SWF. I'm a train going full speed on the path to hell and you can either jump on board and come with me, or if you're one of those on the track, you can either get out of the way or get killed. See, I mean what I say and say what I mean, friends, and that is you can't stop the God Machine! If I'm going down, I'm taking this place with me, if you know what I'm talking about..." says MANSON, as he drops the mic to the mat and heads out of the ring. "I guarantee you the ratings just went up, like, fifteen points. Great stuff." "He stole a page from someone's rhyme book, some very clever stuff there," says a sarcastic Mak, "but this non-sensical tirade only confirms what we already knew… I've known MANSON for a long, long time, but this only proves what I believe in that he's gone completely off the deep end." 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Ace309 0 Report post Posted June 11, 2007 (edited) [Fade in from a black screen] [shot of ‘Justice’ William Hearford III standing in a gym with a ring behind him and talking to the camera] JUDGE: It’s one of the hardest jobs in the world, no doubt about it. The show schedule, the road schedule, the training, working through the injuries… these guys are going to have to give it their all if they want a hope of making it. [Drew Kelk is standing with a whistle and a stopwatch while several young men and women run back and forth doing speed and endurance exercises] C.I.A.: C’mon, you think being a pro wrestler is all about the moves? If you can’t keep going in the ring, how are you going to do those moves? You’ve got to be faster, you’ve got to be fitter! [Tom Flesher is in the ring with a big young man in a T-shirt and what look like MMA shorts who is clearly bracing himself for something] FLESHER: You ready? [The young man nods, and Flesher shoteis him in the jaw. He staggers, but doesn’t fall over] FLESHER: That hurt? TRAINEE (wincing): Uh… yeah. FLESHER: But you’re still on your feet. TRAINEE: Yeah, I- [Flesher dives in with a blast double-leg takedown, then transitions into a spinning toehold before dropping an elbow into the right knee. He then rolls into and takes the leg with him before turning over into a half-crab. The trainee taps furiously and immediately until Flesher lets him go. Flesher addresses the rest of them] FLESHER: This isn’t about who hits hardest, gentlemen and ladies, this is about learning to wrestle. If you’re going to come into my company you’re going to need to listen to your trainers and pay close attention, because if you don’t all get a lot lot better than Matthew here, you won’t last two minutes beyond the opening bell. [The shot returns to Bill Hearford, watching some of the trainees in the ring. He speaks to the camera again] JUDGE: Some of these guys have got potential, sure. Will they make it in the SWF? Some of them might, given time. But only one of them's gonne get it handed to him or her. TEN MEN TEN WOMEN ONE PROMOTION ONE CONTRACT SWF SMARK ENOUGH II Edited June 11, 2007 by Ace309 Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Ace309 0 Report post Posted June 11, 2007 “Ladies and gentlemen....” When I was back in seminary school... The crowd pops, nearly drowning out Funyon as he shouts, “Please welcome...” There was a person there who put forth the proposition... that you can petition the Lord with prayer. Petition the Lord with prayer! “TOM FLESHER!” YOU CANNOT PETITION THE LORD WITH PRAYER! With that, the explosion that heralds the opening of Led Zeppelin's “Kashmir” blasts through the St. Pete Times Forum, and the traditional blue explosion lights up the Forum as the SWF's commissioner steps through the curtain. As the arena lights up with flashbulbs, the fans can see that Flesher is carrying the International Championship with him. He has the belt folded and carries it in front of him, the look on his face bittersweet as he once again holds a championship belt... but only in the most literal sense. As the fans continue cheering, Flesher steps into the ring and stands in the centre for a moment, his expression serious as he motions for an official. He hands the International Title to the referee, then grabs a microphone. “Good evening, Tampa,” he says. “I won't be out here for long, so don't worry. We'll have another guy to chew your ear off after another commercial. No, I'm only out here for a few minutes... not even long enough to smoke a cigarette, really... to let you know what I'm going to do with these ten pounds of gold.” “As you know,” Flesher continues, “in the SWF, wrestlers are not permitted to hold more than one championship within the same division. Those divisions, for singles championships, are Cruiserweight, Heavyweight and Hardcore; each different set of rules creates a separate division. The only time this clause triggers anymore, therefore, is just the situation Alan Clark created at 13th Hour. Under the current rules, it is impermissible to hold the World and International Championships simultaneously.” “After doing a fair amount of research, I have come to two conclusions. The first is that the rules do not specify the method of filling a vacancy for a championship; we have had battle royals, singles matches, and tournaments. We've even handed the championship to the number-one contender.” “That won't be happening this time.” “No, we have a fairly-crowned number-one contender in Jay Hawke, and in Johnny Dangerous, we have an heir presumptive: the first International Champion, a man who has given the former Champion a hard time in the ring, and a man with talent. That brings me to my second conclusion: Johnny Dangerous is bad for business.” The fans immediately turn on Flesher, booing loudly. He holds his hands up in a profession of innocence, and protests, “Listen, I wouldn't be telling you this if it weren't true. Johnny Dangerous not only brings our insurance bills up through the roof with his silly spy antics, but no one is willing to pay to see him. Even the highest-rated pay-per-view shows he headlined were backed by a strong sub-main event, and frankly, if you leave him alone as the headliner, well...” Flesher points his thumb to the mat and lets loose a bronx cheer. “So, I'll cut to the chase. The International Championship will cease to be after the next pay-per-view show. For the right to be the final International Champion, and to face the World Champion, whomever he may be, at the pay-per-view, we're going to have a good old-fashioned singles match. In one corner is Jay Hawke.” Booooooooo! “In the other is Johnny Dangerous.” YEAAAAHHHHHHH! “Or Tracey Bruner.” BOOOOOOOOO! “Dangerous and Bruner, two weeks from tonight, will fight for the right to face Jay Hawke for the final International Championship and the right to face the World Champion at Ground Zero! And next week, Johnny has an engagement to appear on the House of Marvelous! Goodness,” Flesher says, “that's going to be an interesting encounter.” With that, “Kashmir” lights up again, and to a round of boos, Flesher walks out of the ring. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Ace309 0 Report post Posted June 11, 2007 It has been said that a picture is worth a thousand words. However, it was one image, that of Alan Clark standing tall at the end of 13th Hour 2007 with both the World Heavyweight and International Championships in his grasp, that left more than its fair share of onlookers speechless. But maybe, just maybe, we are getting ahead of ourselves. It was only a few moments before that Landon Maddix thought he had everything in control. He thought that he was only seconds away from a hard fought and bloody victory against one of his many long-time nemeses. No doubt, he thought he was going to be on top of the world forever. He thought wrong. For what little he remembers of the one-hundred-twenty (or so) seconds between the time his head first struck the top turnbuckle and the exact millisecond his eyes regained their focus to see Alan Clark posing, arms outstretched, at the top of the ramp with his championship, many…many things happened. Some of them were psychical, such as his body being limped slammed face-down onto the canvas. Some of them were mental, such as Megan Skye no doubt contemplating diving in the ring to save her champion. One of them, however, was purely symbolic. “Ladies and Gentlemen…allow me to introduce to you at this time…your NEEEEW Smartmarks Wrestling Federation Heavyweight Champion of the World…ALAN CLARK!” Let it be stated that it was Tampa, Florida, in front of a sold-out crowd, where that one symbolic moment which began at 13th Hour was finally completed. Stand, bow, boo, or praise – everyone is letting out their emotions, their own one thousand words to the picture that is before them – to the orchestral harpings of “To Die For”, Alan Clark steps out… …and into the spotlight. “AL-AN SUCKS! AL-AN SUCKS! AL-AN SUCKS!” Well, that’s two words, anyways. A few flashbulbs pop off from around the arena as Alan slowly works his way down toward the ring, making sure everyone watching, no matter where they are, can see the glinting gold around his waist. Behind him walks Walter Reynolds, his usual stoic self, doing very little other than his job as he watches Alan walk up the ring stairs and climb up the turnbuckles, standing and looking out over the crowd, his nose turned slightly up and his eyes turned down at the jeering fans. His right fist slowly rises up, almost controlling the volume of those around him. “AL-AN SUCKS! AL-AN SUCKS! AL-AN SUCKS!” Alan doesn’t care. As his music slowly fades away and the ringside lighting returns to its normal radiance, Alan climbs down from the corner and steps into the ring, a microphone waiting for him on the apron. “Can you blame me?” Not exactly the first thing you would expect the new world champion to say. “Seriously, can you blame me?” he repeats, letting the question sink in. “None of this was my fault. If you want to blame someone for 13th Hour, then look no further than Landon Maddix himself.” “MAD-DIX! MAD-DIX! MAD-DIX!” “My point exactly. Blame him. Think back, really think back. Junior Leagues. It was myself and Todd Royal, fighting for that championship when Landon Maddix got involved. He tried to cripple me.” “YEAAAAAH!” “…that isn’t what I heard then.” Alan speaks the truth, but the fans do not relent, “Eventually he took the Junior League World Championship from me, and I never had my chance to regain it – unless of course you count the Triple Crown. I don’t. But, things happened. I left the business behind.” Alan pauses, letting the moment sink in, “I came back though. I had no real desire to come back, but I did. And who is to blame for that? Landon Maddix. It seems everything in my professional wrestling career as a part of this company has seemingly all revolved around him. Do you know what that is like? You will never know what that is like!!!” Alan screams, the shock almost catches Walter off guard, as he spins to make sure everything is alright inside the ring. “But Landon Maddix did not bring me back this time. No, that was the friendly folks of the Walt Disney Company – and make sure you check out Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End in theaters now – but it was one Landon Maddix that is to blame for what I have secured tightly around my waist this evening. Let me take you back, just a little over a month ago.” The SmarkTron lights up to show Landon Maddix standing across the ring from Tom Flesher, his words echoing out… “You think you are really going to sell 13th Hour on Maddix-Clark 8…” the SmarkTron freezes and the image fades, the spotlight returning to Alan in the ring. “It was that phrase that led to the main event of 13th Hour being made exactly what it was. All thanks to Landon Maddix. I guess, if you really think about it, you can blame my entire SWF career on the former World Heavyweight Champion.” Alan laughs to himself, pulling the microphone from his lips and smirking straight into the ringside camera. “But enough of all this talk about the FORMER champion. To say that he caused my career is, honestly, somewhat laughable – but what has burned me so much over the past few years, ever since that final Junior League show, is just how much Landon Maddix has hogged the spotlight when it could have been and, in some cases, rightfully should have been MINE!” “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “I am through being a stepping stone for anyone’s career! Do you understand that?! You are not looking at the one guy ‘who never made it on top’. It is time that everyone starts paying attention to ME. It has never been about Alan Clark in the SWF, and that changes tonight! I said it before and I will say it many, many times in the coming weeks and months…the fans, not a single one of you, wanted Alan Clark to come back. And with all apologies to Johnny Dangerous, all I wanted at 13th Hour was to defeat Landon Maddix. I was not going to let him or anyone else take that moment away from me. I wanted to give everyone a reason to pay attention to Alan Clark!” Defiantly, Alan pulls the championship away from his waist and raises it high into the air over his head, “When that night was over, it was not about Revolution Zero, or Wild & Dangerous, and definitely not about Landon….’La Cu—Ca—Ra—Cha’…Maddix. Now that I am the one with this championship in my possession and around my waist…you all will have no choice… …but to pay attention… …to ME.” Alan pauses once again, pulling the championship down and holding it very close to his face, giving the ringside camera a lovely shot to no doubt later use in video packages. “…whether you want to or not…” Alan looks to drop the microphone only to be startled, along with the audience inside the St. Pete Times Forum and worldwide watching on television, by the violent guitar riffs and the blaring trumpets of Emmure’s “When Keeping It Real Goes Wrong”, as it explodes from the PA. RAHAHAHAHAHAHA! The horrifying shriek of a laugh from lead singer Frank Palmieri sends a shiver down the spines of everyone in attendance. Walter Reynolds slides into the ring as Alan looks around the arena in confusion, unsure of why this music is playing, or more importantly, whom it is for. I hope this is a passing phase. There is no future where I stand, Here with you! The lights on the stage begin to flicker on and off. The audience begins to stomp their feet as the anticipation builds to who is going to come out to confront the newly crowned SWF World Heavyweight Champion. The cocky smirk that was once on Alan Clark’s face is now gone, replaced by a worried expression. His bodyguard stands directly behind him, emotionless and statuesque. Staring up towards the stage, Alan Clark’s face goes sour as four simple words appear on the Smarktron simultaneously as they are played in the song. This Is… …The End! With that, the crowd goes into frenzy as “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins steps out from behind the curtain. Now sporting short hair and a Five O’clock shadow and wearing a white “Heartless” tee shirt, Jenkins stomps down the ramp towards the ring. Alan Clark’s expression turns to confusion as he looks on at Jenkins climbing up the steel steps and entering into the squared circle. The crowd buzzes with excitement as Spike walks straight up to Alan Clark and gets directly into his face. A very serious and intense Jenkins stares straight into the World Champion’s eyes, not showing any sense of backing down. Clark, on the other hand, does step back. His smirk returns and he puts a hand up in front of Jenkins, motioning for him to cool off. “Spike Jenkins? Is that really you? I must say this comes as quite a surprise.” Alan does his best to try and play off the sudden interruption of his celebration. "Let me guess, you decided that what, seven or eight months or so is enough. So you were watching 13th Hour and saw me defeat both Johnny Dangerous and Landon Maddix and win this..." He motions down at his waistline, "and decided you would just come straight back here and try and challenge me and that I would give you a shot that you might not even deserve? Do I look like Landon Maddix to you? You saw what Zyon tried to---" Before Clark can even finish, the microphone that was held firmly in his hand is knocked loose by a hard smack that sent it crashing to the mat with a loud thud. Startled, Alan Clark stumbles backwards into Walter Reynolds, who quickly steps in front of his client. Clark stares at Jenkins, who hasn’t even budged, even with the Disney-hired bodyguard in his way. Instead, Jenkins continues staring a hole directly into the eyes of the champion. Slowly lifting his arm up, Jenkins point’s one finger at Alan Clark, as the crowd erupts into cheers. “SPIKE! SPIKE! SPIKE! SPIKE!” Alan suddenly pushes Reynolds out of the way, who quickly regains his footing and turns toward the duo ready to break up any possible fight (and then immediately phone his bosses with an explanation), but Clark stays calm. He gets the message loud and clear. Begrudgingly, he steps back towards the ropes and out onto the apron. Unstrapping the World Heavyweight Title from his waist, Clark holds it high over his head. After a seven-month hiatus, Spike Jenkins has returned in better shape, more intense and more focused with one goal in mind. Unfortunately for Alan Clark, that one goal just happens to be in his possession. [FADE OUT] ©2007 Smartmarks Wrestling Federation 'Raising Workrate By Hitting People Harder' Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
