SWF STORMarriffics! Seven-Twelve-OhSeven

[chirs3 0]

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The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation presents...
SWF STOOOOORM!
Live, Thursday, July 12th, from the site of Rock Am Ring in Norburgring, Germany!
(7pm PST, 10pm EST; check local listings)
(Send all promos/marked matches to chirs3)



Some big uber-music-fest in Germany held about this time of year. Ring will be out in the crowd, near the main stage, and whatever band happens to be on at the time will cover your entrance music. Oh, hey, looks like MTV has something to do with it. Bonus points if you find a creative way to off an MTV employee in your match.

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THE MAIN EVENT - SWF TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH
Wild and Dangerous vs. The Heartless Foundation (Alan Clark and "Hollywood" Spike Jenkins)
--> Spike Jenkins wants the SWF to know he means business, and after putting our Cruiserweight Champion away last show, I don't think many would argue. He's had his eye on the World Champion, Alan Clark, and before the Disneyman can make it to the Unification match at Ground Zero, he's going to have to go through Hollywood!

But that'll be next week.

In an effort to satisfy the HUNGER~! of the Tag Team Champions to prove themselves, and also to screw with the two guys who'll be facing each other next week, this beauty of a match was dreamt up.
Rules: Standard tag team match. Plus AWESOME.

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SINGLES MATCH
"The Dean of Professional Wrestling" Jay Hawke vs. Austin Sly
--> Episode 2 of "Can Rev-0 repair the damage done last week" sees Austin Sly, off a narrow defeat at the hands of Wild and Dangerous, take on the man who will be heading into Ground Zero's super ultra mega awesometastic Unification Match! A win for either man would provide an epic momentum boost, but sadly there can be only one...
Rules: Standard singles match.

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HARDCORE MATCH (non-title)
The Fabulous Jakey vs. Landon "La Cucaracha" Maddix
--> While CC hunts for Jakey's next challenger, presumably at Ground Zero, we want to keep both of these champs in tip-top shape. By which, of course, we mean we want them to pound the crap out of each other with sharp, heavy objects for our own amusement. With Rev-0's pride damaged last show, will Jakey bring what he needs to restore their (lack of) honor?
Rules: Hardcoooooooore.

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NEW BLOOD CHAMPIONSHIP FINALS - LADDER MATCH
Fulminatus! vs. Michael Alexander
--> The two top names of the recent rookie surge have made it to the finals! Tonight, the SWF's New Blood Title will debut, hanging above 20 feet above the ring, and one man will make SWF History by becoming the very first New Blood Champion!
Rules: The first man to scale a ladder and retrieve the belt will be the winner.

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Badger on a Pole Match
Jimmy the Doom vs. Chris Raynor
--> Chris Raynor was responsible for that horrific Straight Bread match. Now Tom Flesher gets his revenge. If Jimmy the Doom wants a stip for this match - any stip at all - he just needs to speak up. I am at your mercy, God help me.
Rules: Um... 'Drea?

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IT IS BEINGS A MYSTERY MANZ MATCH
??? vs. MANSON
--> Everyone always knows who ??? is before me, but still, I guess we'll keep up the charade. MYSTERY MAN! WHO COULD IT BE?!!?!?!?!
Rules: Singleys.

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[chirs3 0]

As the SWF's super-exciting opening comes to an end, the cameras briefly show the crowd at Norburgring's 'Rock Am Ring”, still exploding with noise as the video package fades out. Moments later, the shot cuts to your intrepid announcers, Mak Francis and the Suicide King. Mak has a wide smile on his face, while King glares at a fan leaning over the makeshift railing to get his face in the shot.

 

“Welcome, fans, to the most exciting wrestling show in the whole world, SWF Storm! I'm 'The Franchise', Mak Francis, alongside my announcing companion, the legendary Suicide King. We are LIVE from Norburgring, Germany, folks, as the SWF continues to showcase it's talent on a worldwide stage.”

 

King manages most of a smile as he looks at the cameras to respond to Francis' enthusiasm. “That's correct, Mak, and for all you fans, German or otherwise, we've got a real exciting show coming up for you tonight. We've got ladder match finals to find a winner in our New Blood Championship, between Fulminatus and Michael Alexander!”

 

Mak pipes up here, interjecting with a smile. “Not to mention our exciting main event, an SWF Tag Team Championship competition between the truly dominant Wild and Dangerous and an unorthodox tag team to say the least, World Champion Alan Clark tagging with the man who wants to take that very title, “Hollywood”Spike Jenkins!”

 

“A little bit of recognition for the Heartless one, to be involved in a matchup that will top off our card.”

 

“He has been performing impressively, King, but right now, we've got something just as exciting, as the dangerous Manson faces off against a mystery man. If what my sources tell me is true about just who this mystery man is, it's looking to be a truly outstanding competition!”

 

King looks shocked by this pronouncement from Mak, turning towards his announce partner and snapping out a question. “Wait a second, Mak, do you mean you know who this mystery man is, and you didn't let the King in on it?”

 

Mak smiles, rather happy with himself. “Didn't want to spoil the surprise, King. Did you open your christmas presents early, too?” King is ready to respond, when suddenly the music kicks in, being provided by 30 Seconds to Mars from the huge Rock Am Ring stage. “Besides, King, you'll find out soon enough, now.”

 

The Camera view cuts away from King and Mak, showing the band onstage, speakers shrieking wih the familiar guttural, distorted Warble that always Welcomes Manson to the stage. The fans become transfixed on the stage, a loud chorus of booing arising. The boos are quickly drowned out as the band kicks into high gear, blasting out the beginning of “Scientific Remote Viewing”, or at least a reasonable facsimile. The boos once more overtake the roaring music, however, when Manson enters from the side of the stage, flashing strobe spotlights following him as he moves towards the ramp, misty smoke pouring out of all edges of the stage and ramp, rolling over to dance around the feet of those nearest the action.

 

Moving silently, seemingly completely oblivious to the crowd, Manson's chains shake and sway with his movements towards the ring. King's voice cuts through the noise for those viewers who are watching at home. “Now that's an entrance. You can't really appreciate just how ominous Manson is until you've seen him in person, and if we've got a rookie coming in for his first match in the SWF, I don't think he's ever seen anything Like Manson before.”

 

Mak's voice comes in now, cheerily. “As much as I agree with you, King, I don't think any level of theatrics will be enough to rattle our mystery man's nerves. Besides, Manson can't be coming into this match completely focused. You know he's thinking about the problems he's been having of late with Maddix.”

 

As Mak says this, the music dies down and the camera cuts back to the large stage, where the band has moved off to the sides and a large display screen has been rolled into place. King's voice comes in, cheerily, as he speaks to his announce partner. “Ha! Keep all the secrets you want, Mak Francis, because now eeryone gets to find out just who our mystery man is, and I think that....” King's voice cuts out as the band begins to play, guitars ringing out through the speakers with a familiar opening riff, the entire crowd popping loud as the opening strains of the Red Hot Chili Pepper's 'Rollercoaster of Love' wash over them. Onstage, the large display screen shows an empty rollercoaster roaring along a track, the letters 'M.C.' stamped proudly on it's hood.

 

“... It can't be. Francis, you sneaky bastard, this isn't just any mystery man, it's a member of the venerated Midnight Carnival, one of the most celebrated stables in SWF history! It could be so many people. Edwin MacPhisto, Z, even...” once again King is cut off by the music, as it rises loud while the band leans into their microphones, screaming 'Say what!?' in time with the music, and the rollercoaster on the display screens is suddenly roaring towards the end of the track, and the angle changes so the empty car looks like it is about to come crashing forward through the screen. A huge 'BOOM!' sounds out, and glittering red fireworks shoot up into the sky, and out to both sides from the edges of the display screen, which rips in half as a replica of a rollercoaster cart comes crashing through, a familiar figure standing tall in the front seat, half obscured in the firework's rising smoke. The band, silent for just one moment, slam on their instruments, yelling aloud into their microphones, switching songs so they are singing another Red Hot Chili Pepper's song, 'Can't Stop', and the crowds roar grows even louder still.

 

“Oh, great. It could be ANYONE, and we get this Canadian goofball. I guess I know who your inside man was now, eh, Mak?” Responding with far more gusto than the deflated Suicide King, Mak Francis seems overjoyed to be able to say the words he now speaks. “That's right, King! It's the former S.W.J.L. World champion, who had a hell of a title run against a great opponent, if you ask me. He's also a former SWF hardcore champion, and the one time LEADER of the Midnight Carnival! Ladies and gentlemen, C.I.A. IS BACK!”, throwing his hand up to reveal a microphone as he turns back to the crowd.

 

“And he's going to speak. Glorious.”

 

“Quiet down, King, let the man say his piece, it's his first night back with us in what we hope will be a long relationship with the SWF.” Walking down the ramp, C.I.A. Raises the microphone to his lips and smiling. “Boy, this German beer's got me feeling great!” The crowd pops huge, and C.I.A. Can't seem to keep the smile from rising at the corners of his mouth, just underneath the maple leaf shaped half mask obscuring his features. “That's right, make some noise, the man is back, here to entertain all and maybe pick on his ol' pal Mak! Boys, Girls, Gentlemen and ladies, C.I.A. Is a man of the people, so how've you been lately?” A slight chuckle rings through the cheering crowd at this proclamation, and C.I.A. Slides into the ring, marching over to one of the ring posts and climbing up as he is bathed in the flashes of camera bulbs. “So don't be afraid, don't be silent, make your voices heard! For the SWF, and for you, C.I.A. is the light! The truth! And most importantly, the word!!” Tossing aside his microphone and colorful ring jacket as the crowd's ovation becomes nearly deafening, C.I.A. dismounts the ringpost and turns to face Manson in the ring. Referee Ced Ordonez throws his hand in the air and the bell rings out loud, signaling the start of the match.

 

“What an entrance from the Canadian with the gift for gab, that long time fan favorite C.I.A.! He is back, and he looks ready to tear this ring apart to put on a show for this rowdy crowd.”

 

“Sure he does, Mak. Noone's ever said C.I.A. Wasn't a gutsy fighter, but the truth is, he's really diving into the deep end in his first match back. I don't doubt a combination of ring rust, nerves, and just plain lack of talent might not be enough to get him through a match with the truly dangerous Manson.” Responding quickly, Mak seems to have expected this kind of proclamation from King. “I take some umbrage at the idea that C.I.A. Is untalented, King, but the rest is definitely going to work against him. Still, C.I.A. Has always been tremendously difficult to put down in the ring, I should know, and either way, we don't have to wait any longer to find out, because they're off!”

 

After a few moments of circling around each other, C.I.A. And Manson dive forward into the center of the ring, locking up while the noise of the crowd dies down. The first move is made by C.I.A., who throws one of Manson's arms off, grabbing at the other in an attempt to pull in a wristlock. Manson responds quickly, bending in his arm and stepping forward, his free hand moving around C.I.A.'s head in an attempted headlock, only to have the Canadian reach up and snag his wrist, stepping back around the side of the so-called 'Savage Messiah', pulling the arm back for a rear wristlock. Manson brings a foot back to sweep one of C.I.A.'s to the side, throwing the Canadian off balance, his free arm driving backwards to attempt an elbow into the masked face of his foe. Still moving quickly, C.I.A lets go of Manson's arm and ducks low under the elbow, popping up to full height so the two are facing each other. Both men lash out suddenly with feirce kicks, and catch each other almost simultaneously in the gut, forcing both to stumble away, before standing tall and glaring at one another. The crowd roars in appreciation of the trade off of maneuvers, and C.I.A. smiles and throws one arm in the air.

 

“Well, I guess we can probably count ring rust off of that list of disadvantages, King, C.I.A. seems to be in true fighting form, coming out perfectly even with Manson in that exchange.” King's sarcastic reply is quick in coming, his voice filled with disdain. “Shot for shot with Manson? That's not even in ANYONE'S book, Franchise, and if C.I.A. doesn't gain a considerable advantage somehow, the sheer power of Manson will wear him down.”

 

In the ring, the two opponents step forward cautiously as though to lock up again, but Manson's hand veers up to C.I.A.'s face, grabbing hold of the rough beard C.I.A. is now sporting and jerking hard, the Canadian's face colliding with the mat as he ends up on his stomach. The crowd boos aloud, and Ced Ordonez berates Manson, but he quickly shoves Ordonez out of the way and moves in on C.I.A., dropping a harsh knee across the back of his downed opponent's neck. The booing rises even louder as Manson rolls C.I.A. onto his back andswings one leg over him, taking up a mounted position and beginning to swing his arms in hard arcs, beginning to pummel the face of C.I.A.

 

“And this is not good for C.I.A., Manson taking up a mounted position of our Canucklehead friend and laying in with those hard shots to the face.” Laughing, King responds. “That's right, Makky, seems C.I.A., who is not, nor will ever be my friend, has gotten himself into a bad situation fairly early in this matchup.”

 

In the center of the ring, C.I.A. keeps his arms up to defend himself and flails his feet, finally throwing both up underneath Manson's arms and pulling him down to the mat, grabbing hold of his legs and pinning his shoulders down to the mat. Ced slides down into place to count the pin, but before he can even slam his hand into the mat, Manson brings his legs together hard around C.I.A.'s head, causing the Canadian to release him and roll away. “Ha, that fool thinks he can pin Manson this early? I never did think much of Canadians, but C.I.A. always manages to lower my expectations.” King snickers, but Mak cuts him off. “I think it was rather ingenious, King, since C.I.A. was looking for a way out of the hold, not a pinfall. Now all he has to do is find a way to take control of this match and pour on the punishment. Still, noone being in control is far better for C.I.A. than Manson being in charge of the action.”

 

Both men come to their feet, and Manson rushes forward once more, intent on maintaining control of the match, but this time, his colourful foe seems prepared, leaping straight up into the air and kicking his feet out at the last second, his patented hard dropkick nearly taking Manson's head off and slamming the savage messiah back down onto the mat. Landing rather hard on his shoulder, C.I.A. is still first up onto his feet, and he runs to the ropes, rebounding as Manson rolls to his hands and knees, C.I.A.'s body rocketing into him, point of the Canadian's knee colliding with Manson's head and driving him down once again. Continuing in his run, C.I.A. leaps up onto the second rope, bounding back and off and dropping his elbow across the bridge of Manson's nose, the fans in the crown popping huge.

 

“And it looks like C.I.A. is right on track now, King, maintaining control and keeping the pressure on Manson!” C.I.A. quickly rolls to his feet and steps over next to Manson, leaping up over his opponent and dropping down to slam his body across Manson's chest. Reaching over to grab Manson's leg, C.I.A. looks up to Ced Ordonez even as he slides down into place to count the pinfall attempt, his hand coming down hard onto the mat.

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TW.....

 

The crowd groans in sympathy as Manson suddenly seems to recover, bringing his hand up to grab hold of C.I.A.'s mask, fingers poking the Canadian in his eyes and causing him to roll free of the pinfall situation to escape. “Let that be a lesson, Canadian. You can never count Manson out of the match, he always has something up his sleeve.” Mak seems downtrodden as he replies “A rather dirty move on Manson's part, but a smart one. If he's managed to pull that mask out of place, C.I.A.'s going to be fighting blind until he can get it corrected.” Indeed, as Mak says this, C.I.A. comes up to his feet, hands grabbing at his mask in an attempt to pull it back into place, but Manson is already standing, and as C.I.A. stumbles in a circle, Manson drives a hard kick into his gut, doubling him over. Stepping in, he wraps his arm around C.I.A.'s neck and reaches underneath to hook the leg, hefting the Canadian into the air, and spinning to slam him fiercely to the mat, much to the crowd's disdain.

 

“Moss covered three handled family credunza from Manson, using every advantage, but mostly his superior mind, and starting to bring the hurt to that filthy foreign intruder!” Manson lets go of C.I.A., but drives his elbow down into the throat of the Canadian warrior before sitting up to get to his feet. Seconds later, he is not only on his feet, he is busy laying hard kicks into the face of C.I.A., whose mask is still askew. After a few well placed hard kicks, Manson bends over and laces his fingers in the long hair of C.I.A., dragging him to his feet. Grabbing hold of the Agent's arm, Manson whips him hard off towards the nearby ropes, almost immediately leaping up into the air and extending his knee, the half-blind C.I.A.'s face quickly coming into contact with the high knee, causing him to collapse to the mat once more. Kneeling over his fallen foe, Manson begins pounding straight down with punches, fist causing C.I.A.'s head to bounce roughly off the mat, over and over. C.I.A. throws his hands up in an attempt to defend himself, but Manson pushes them aside and leans in close continuing the assault. A few more tremendous punches bounce off the Canadian's face, and Manson leans in close, smiling down at the dazed C.I.A. as his fist draws back for a brutal swing. C.I.A. Smiles as well, a trickle of blood coming from his nose, and he thrusts his upper body forward, recklessly slamming his head into Manson's face, causing the slightly larger man to roll away.

 

“Desperation headbutt from C.I.A., and it couldn't have come at a better time.” Mak seems happy with this turn of events, but King sneers. “Except maybe before the first four or five punches likely broke his nose. And we've still got to see who took more damage from that headbutt, as it didn't look quite on target to me.” True to King's words, C.I.A. and Manson are both clutching their faces as they roll over to try to get to their feet, C.I.A. finally tugging his mask back into place. Both men come up to their feet and look at each other, stepping in quickly as Ced Ordonez moves out from between them, locking up in center ring. Jockeying for position, it only takes a few seconds before Manson starts forcing C.I.A. back towards the corner, shoving hard when they are only a few feet away, throwing C.I.A. hard into the turnbuckle, and stepping in to follow him, delivering hard kesagiri chops to the Canadian, shoving C.I.A.'s hands out of the way whenever the Canadian tries to defend himself.

 

“Not a good position for C.I.A., dealing with this kind of assault from Manson is no easy task.” King responds quickly. “You're absolutely right, Franchise, and every blow from a man with the strength of manson is like getting hit with a hammer. C.I.A. really has to take control of this match, and hold on to it, if he wants any chance of winning. I know he's one of the more resilient competitors the SWF had, back in his day, but noone can put up with Manson's punishment for too long.” Pulling the Canadian's head down, Manson hops backwards and drives C.I.A.'s face into his knee. This causes the Canadian to pop up and rebound into the turnbuckle, stumbling forward again towards Manson. With a quick surge, Manson claps his arms around C.I.A.'s body and throws his upper body backwards, launching the maple leaf man overhead with a crisp belly to belly suplex. The crowd continues to boo, but Manson pays them no mind, instead coming up to his feet just long enough to leap backwards and drop his knees across the chest of C.I.A, then allows them to slide off to either side, reaching back to grab one leg under his arm, then leaning forward to lay his forearm across C.I.A.'s chest.

 

“Pinfall attempt by Manson, and referee Ced Ordonez is sliding in position to count the fall!”

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!

 

 

 

 

 

TH...... “No! Kickout by C.I.A. before the three count can fall! C.I.A. is proving he's still got that fight in him, that unstoppable force of will!”

 

“It's just a kickout, Mak. Must you engage in such relentless hyperbole?” Even as Mak and King trade verbal witticisms, Manson rises to his feet, towering over the downed C.I.A., and starts to grind his boot into the chin and throat of C.I.A., hopping slightly to drag the sole of his shoe across his foe's face, not once, but twice. Looking down at C.I.A.'s eyes for just a moment, Manson quickly turns and runs back across the the ring, rebounding off of the ropes, and running back towards the Canuck. Kicking out towards C.I.A.'s exposed... 'lower abdomen' (Wink wink), Manson is caught off guard as the Canadian snaps his legs shut, wrapping one arm around Manson's other foot as it comes down beside him. Tugging a the back of Manson's knee, C.I.A. rolls backwards while Manson crashes to his face, keeping his arm locked around the leg and coming up with a half boston crab, putting as much torque from his roll as he can on the knee of his dangerous foe. Ced Ordonez is quick to respond, dropping down and getting close to Manson's face, asking if he wants to quit.

 

“Sudden burst of energy from C.I.A., taking Manson down to the mat and locking in that half boston crab, right in the center of the ring. C.I.A. is known for coming back almost out of nowhere.” King seems mildly perturbed as he replies, addressing not Mak, but Manson, in the ring. “Manson, don't let a Canadian do that to you, power out, or get to the ropes!” Manson seems to hear what King has said, or at least he had the same idea, as he pushes himself up and begins to pull towards the ropes, C.I.A. stumbling back with each hard pull. Ced Ordonez slides along besides the two as Manson grits his face with pain and determination, shaking his head no whenever Ordonez asks if he wants to give up. The fans cry out for Manson to give in, to give C.I.A. a victory for his triumphant return, but Manson will not give in, pulling with all his might to gain precious inches towards the rope. Soon, as C.I.A. struggles in a futile attempt to pull Manson back to the center of the ring, his hand flying forward and grabbing hold of the ropes, a dejected C.I.A. quickly releases the hold when Ced leaps to his feet and taps him on the shoulder, the fans crying out with their disappointment.

 

C.I.A. tuns towards Manson, but the downed heel has already used the rope to turn himself over, and he kicks up into C.I.A.'s gut, doubling over the White and Red warrior, then delivering another kick, directly into C.I.A.'s face, launching his head up and back and causing him to stumble back towards the other side of the ring. Standing up, Manson rushes towards C.I.A., limping only slightly on his now stiff and sore leg, and he drives a hard Elbow into C.I.A.'s face as the Canadian struggles to recover. Again, he strikes with an elbow, and again, then he reaches down to grab hold of C.I.A.'s arm, pulling hard to whip C.I.A. into the ropes. The Canadian plants his feet and refuses to move, then again as Manson attempts the irish whip for a second time. Manson, seemingly in a rage, shoves C.I.A. back and follows with a hard flurry of punches, until the Canadian's back is against the ropes. Stunning his foe, Manson once more grabs C.I.A.'s wrist, and plants one hand on his back, and whipe him off hard to the opposite end of the ring.

 

“I think I know what this is, Mak, it's a setup to end this matchup right here and now, with the 'Iron-Cutting sword lariat! And the way that goofy Canadian was fighting against it, I think he knows it too!” A worried Mak quickly responds. “You might be right, and the force of that lariat might even be enough for Manson to really gain control, or end this match in a hell of a hurry!” C.I.A. bounds off the ropes, roaring off in Manson's direction, fans almost holding their breath as Manson takes a step forward, whipping his arm out towards C.I.A. and......

 

 

 

 

 

REACH OUT AND TOUCH FAITH!

 

The speakers blare, 'Personal Jesus' sounding out loud. Manson stumbles with shock and lands on his weak leg hard, the sudden sharp stop allowing C.I.A. to duck low under the intended lariat. Manson stares at the display screens just off the stage, the face of Maddix coming on and smiling brightly. “Hey, Manson. Just wanted to tell you something REALLY important. Listen closely.” Very quietly, and slowly, Maddix continues. “Watch out for the finisher.” Just as Maddix says this, C.I.A. has popped up behind Manson and taken hold of his arm in a half-nelson. Manson's moment of shock is over, and he tries to break out of the hold, but it only takes a split second for C.I.A. to wrap a foot around his leg and drive his body forward, propelling both men downwards, and, more importantly, burying Manson face first in the mat with incredible force. The thud rings out, and the crowd screams with shocked joy.

 

“VIA Rail! Manson let Maddix distract him, and C.I.A. just DESTROYED him with the VIA Rail, his finishing maneuver! Man, that can come almost out of nowhere!”

 

King, rather surprised, says “Oh, yeah, and how fair is that. It's like a hidden weapon! And what the hell is Maddix doing? This is clearly an attempt to distranct Manson so that ridiculous moose-lover could get that move. Collusion! Conspiracy, I say!”

 

C.I.A rolls Manson over as quickly as he can, hooking the leg and laying back across his chest.

 

“If it was collusion, it's working out fantastically for C.I.A.! Can he do it?”

 

Ced Ordonez slides across the ring to get his eyes on Manson's shoulders, and his hand swings downwards...

 

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE! *DING DING DING*

 

 

The crowd explodes, up on their feet and roaring their approval. “He did it, King! His first match back and he takes out an opponent the caliber of Manson! If he keeps it up, he's gonna turn a lot of heads in the back!” King, seeming almost sad at what has happened, quickly swings to outrage. “What I want to know is what the hell was Maddix doing? He had no right to interfere in this match! We're running a madhouse around here!” Mak sarcastically replies “Why, King, because the faces can get away with it just like the heels?” King, incredulous, replies. “Of course! That's not fair at all! Nevertheless, this goofy, ridiculous, love-craving Canadian has won this matchup, and isn't it just a shame.”

 

“Not if you ask me, King, and not if you ask that man!”

 

In the ring, C.I.A. has recovered his coat and a microphone, and is rolling out of the ring. His feet hit the floor, and he quickly moves to the ramp, throwing his hand in the ait to a loud ovation from the crowd. Raising his microphoone to his mouth, he moves back towards the stage, the band kicking in with his music. “Thank you, eh! It's good to be back in town, and it's good to hear that three count ringing in my favor! I'll always put up a fight, I'll always do what's right, and I'll rock this house for you guys each and every night, eh!” the crowd doesn't seem to want to let up in their celebration of C.I.A.'s victory, even as he disappears backstage and a very angry Manson begins to trudge to the back, no doubt to search out Landon Maddix and make him pay.

 

“Well, King, it's been an exciting night, and we're just getting started. We've already seen two enemies coming face to face, sort of, and a triumphant return for a veteran and a true fan favorite in the SWF, C.I.A., who I must add has the BEST taste in tag team partners.”

 

King sighs, and responds. “A statement as questionable as C.I.A.'s sanity. Nevertheless, you're right about one thing, it's been truly tremendous so far, and it looks like it's only going to get better.”

 

“We've got another Carny in action when in our next match, as Jimmy the Doom takes on the Rayn-man himself, Chris Raynor in one of our oddest matches in some time, a Badger on a pole match.”

 

“Mak, what are the RULES of a Badger on a pole match?”

 

“Don't miss it fans, it's coming up next!”

[chirs3 0]

“The following contest is scheduled for one fall, and is... um... a Badger on a Pole match!”

 

Yeeeeaahwhaaaahuh?

 

“Savannah”, from the We Love Katamari Soundtrack, annoys all in attendance as a PETA representative appears onstage, flanked by an animal wrangler and a lawyer. The PETE rep hoists an animal cage over his head – a zoomed in shot reveals an incredibly pissed off Burmese Ferret Badger.

 

“Introducing first, the badger for this evening... she's a Burmese Ferret Badger... weighing in at twenty five pounds.... HONEYDEW!”

 

The PETA personnel look grumpy, which is pretty much standard for their line of work, as they make their way down to the ring, stopping only to chastise every hot dog eating member of the audience.

 

“Welcome back to Storm,” Mak says, looking a lot less surprised at this absurdity than one might expect... “Yes, this actually is SWF Storm you're watching.”

 

“I get the feeling we're going to have to remind people more than once, Mak.”

 

“Not Animal Planet, not the Discovery Channel – this is SWF StorOHJESUSCHRIST!”

 

Despite his limited mobility, Mak manages to fall out of his chair and roll under the announce table, in response to the PETA rep angrily waving the badger cage in his direction, while shouting ”How many deer did you kill for those for boots?!”

 

A muffled voice from under the table shouts back “I'm not wearing boots, you lunatic!”

 

“MURDERER!”

 

She then carefully climbs up the steps and begins to climb the pole, somehow miraculously carrying the badger carrier in one hand. She carefully balances the cage on top of the pole, opens it, and catches Honeydew by the tail as he leaps out, apparently trying to hit Mak with a flying crossbody from the top. The PETA rep quickly knocks the cage away and grabs the loop of wire sticking out of the top of the pole, and threads it around Honeydew's leg, then perches him on top.

 

“Fucking... hate... badgers.”

 

“... do I want to know wh-”

 

“NO.”

 

The awkward silence that follows is mercifully cut short as Isle of Q's “Rubberneck'” heralds the arrival of Chris Raynor! Or it would be, if Isle of Q were playing it, but this is ROCK AM RING, which means we're getting “Rubberneck” by Jan Delay and Disko #1... it's not the best fit. Doesn't seem to bother Raynor, though, as he appears onstage with the band, making sure not to make eye contact with any of them, before heading down towards the ring in the middle of the crowd.

 

“Introducing first, from Baton Rouge, Louisianaaaa... weighing in at two hundred and fifty pounds... CHRIIIIS RAAAAAAAYNOR!”

 

Raynor makes it to the ring and climbs inside, where his gaze immediately falls upon the overgrown rodent sitting atop the pole. Chris strolls over to the turnbuckle and reaches up-

 

*HFJEDHDSJHFJFFFFT!

 

And yanks his hand away as the badger leaps off the pole and dives straight for it! Honeydew is left swinging by his leg, which prompts another bout of shrieking from the PETE rep as she grabs it by the scruff of its neck and climbs back up the pole to re-perch it.

 

“Whoever grabs the badger off the pole gets to use it as a weapon, but it's beginning to look like the badger wants to attack whomever it gets closest to!”

 

Linkin Park's stirring rendition of “Yakety Sax” gets the German crowd cheering for the first time since we've come back from break, and a group of moshing Druids assemble near the stage, allowing Jimmy the Doom to leap out from hiding and crowd surf to the ring!

 

“And his opponent, from Doomopolis, Doomtopia... weighing in at two hundred and thirty pounds... JIMMMYYYYY THE DOOOOOOOOOOOOM!”

 

“And he- what's that he's holding there, King?”

 

A quick zoom in reveals Jimmy is holding a spray-can of some sort, which Raynor immediately spots and cries foul over. The referee leans out over the ropes, trying to see...

 

“... can't quite... Bad... Badg- oh good lord.”

 

Badger Repellent.

 

“Huh. I never knew they made badger repellent.”

 

“THEY DON'T.”

 

As Jimmy makes it to ringside, he gives his Druids a swift kick to the left kneecap (the traditional Doomtopian ritual of thanks for human based transportation), then proceeds to spray himself from head to toe with the canister.

 

“... I don't see anything coming out, King.”

 

“Ten bucks says Jimmy does.”

 

Satisfied, Doom chucks the can away and rolls into the ring, and the referee finally calls for the bell.

 

*DING DING DING*

 

Jimmy, looking disturbingly confident, marches across the ring towards the pole, and lifts his hand up towards Honeydew...

 

... and much to Raynor's horror, the badger just sniffs, then turns away. Jimmy applauds the badger for his impeccable sense of smell, leaving himself wide open for a clubbing blow across the back! Raynor stuns his opponent, then immediately pulls him out away from the badger's corner, instead pummeling him back into the ropes, then whipping him across the ring! As Jimmy hits the ropes, the turnbuckles to his left and right shake, and that includes Honeydew's – the force is enough to knock him off the pole, and he begins to freely swing by his leg once again!

 

“Something tells me on a pole was not the best way to use a badger.”

 

“Are you kidding, Francis? This is hilarious!”

 

Jimmy's return trip consists of ducking a clothesline attempt, then turning and delivering a series of headbutts that knock the Caveman silly! He finishes with a knee to the gut and a textbook DDT, then covers!

 

And gets no count!

 

Raynor kicks out anyway, but the lack of a referee is considered almost as disrespectful as washing your hands in the Doomtopian culture – Jimmy leaps to his feet to find the problem-

 

-which lies across the ring, in Honeydew's corner! The PETA rep has the badger by the tail and is attempting to scale the pole again to put him back on top, but the referee is having none of it, and he orders her off the ring apron! Ms. PETA responds by pointing at her lawyer and screeching like a howler monkey-

 

Jimmy marches over yanks Honeydew away from her, then begins to climb the turnbuckle!

 

“What is he doing?”

 

“What any sane Doomtopian would do – he's putting the badger back.”

 

Or he would be, had Raynor not just run up from behind and kicked a BIG BOOT~ straight into Jimmy's backside! It looks awkward at first, until one sees the results – namely, Jimmy's head being launched into the steel pole, and the recoil being enough to knock him off the turnbuckle! Honeydew goes flying like a tether ball, wrapping around the pole while Miss PETA has a heart attack on the outside. The referee is lost, looking between the wrestlers – Raynor now has Jimmy pinned – and Honeydew and her trainer, not really sure which deserves his attention.

 

Jimmy kicks out of the non-existent count, and Raynor angrily yanks him up off the mat and heaves him into a neutral corner, and begins laying into him with left and rights. The ref, now seeing his wrestlers occupied, yells to Miss PETA to get the badger back on the pole. She scales it with all the grace of a sloth (but with considerably more speed), then plops Honeydew back on his perch-

 

At which point the ref immediately points to her, the trainer, and the lawyer, and shouts the words everyone's been waiting for:

 

“You're outta here!”

 

Back in the ring, Raynor's got Jimmy down in the bottom ropes, and is applying a somewhat less than legal but thoroughly satisfying choke with his boot. As soon as he sees the ref coming his way he breaks it, then pulls Doom back up to his feet and hooks him for a vertical suplex, but then drops the Doomtopian's feet on the top rope – a quick 180 and a drop later, he's nailed Jimmy with the Tower of London! Doom falls forward and tumbles straight into a pin!

 

ONE!

 

T- Jimmy kicks out!

 

The Caveman gets back to his feet and steps away... looks like he's waiting for Jimmy to get up, but it's taking a moment, so Raynor takes the opportunity to walk across the ring, grab the top rope, and shake! Honeydew wobbles awkwardly a moment before losing balancing and swinging down once again!

 

“Now that was just uncalled for!”

 

Left swinging in the breeze, Raynor turns back-

 

*WHAM*

 

-only to get drilled with a Yak Kick! The momentum is enough to knock Raynor clear off his feet, but Jimmy doesn't waste a second – he takes Chris by the hair and yanks him up, then hurls him into Honeydew's corner!

 

*EHDWEDJHFFFFTFFFFT![/i][/i]

 

The rogue badger dangles right behind his head, and throws claws and teeth into the back of Raynor's noggin, almost certainly ripping out a decent amount of hair – a few loud expletives later, Raynor blindly bolts out of the corner, not noticing that he was running right into-

 

*KA-BOOOOM*

 

“-a Jimmy Bomb! And here's the cover!”

 

ONE!

 

TW- Raynor kicks out!

 

Jimmy drags him up once again, and starts to whip him into the badger's corner again, but Raynor reverses! Jimmy slams into the corner...

 

... and gets nothing but a lick on the head! The nearest camera catches “Oh COME ON!” from the Rayn-man, just before Jimmy explodes out of the corner and latches onto his opponents' head, driving him down in a Bulldog! Another cover follows!

 

ONE!

 

TWO- Kickout!

 

Undeterred, Jimmy picks Raynor up off the mat and again throws him into Honeydew's corner, but Raynor has enough sense to baseball slide this time, ending up on the outside. Honeydaw claws and scratches but gets nothing for her troubles, and Raynor takes the opportunity for a breather.

 

“With any luck, all the blood rushing to the badger's head will make her pass out.”

 

“How would that be a good thing?”

 

“Because then you can grab it by the tail and swing it around. Probably doesn't carry as much punch as a sock full of quarters, but hey, you gotta take what you can get.”

 

Raynor has now turned his attention to the crowd – more specifically, where Jimmy entered. He begins pushing people out of the way, shouting “Where is it? WHERE IS IT?” About seven rows back, someone hoists up Jimmy's can of Badger Repellent-

 

SEVEN!

 

Raynor looks back at the ring... does he have enough tim-

 

EIGHT!

 

Nope. He kicks the guardrail back in frustration, then dives into the ring just before nine, getting nothing but a hailstorm of boots for his troubles! Jimmy puts a nice imprint of his boot into the back of Raynor's head, then picks him up and yet again aims to throw Raynor into the Worst. Corner. EVER. Raynor manages to halt his momentum and skid to a stop just a few feet away, and he makes a quick judgment call and drops to his stomach!

 

Good call.

 

A second after doing soo, Jimmy the Doomtrain goes barreling past him – an intended splash in the corner ends up badly, and as Jimmy staggers backwards out of the turnbuckle, Raynor takes his arm and quickly puts him as far away from that badger as possible. In the center of the ring, the Caveman pulls Jimmy into a sidelock, then slams him down in a forward legsweep! But instead of making a cover, he gets back to his feet and falls into the nearby corner, his eyes jumping back and forth between Honeydew and Jimmy!

 

“Raynor should be going for the pin here!”

 

“I think he knows it's gonna take more than that, Mak, and if he wants to win this match...”

 

The Suicide King pauses, his head sinking...

 

“I never thought I would have to say something like this during a wrestling broadcast... If he wants to win this match, he's got to neutralize the badger.”

 

Raynor looks back out at the crowd, where Jimmy's can had last been spotted – no sign of it now. In the center of the ring, Jimmy begins to stir, and the Caveman's attention falls back to him – just as Jimmy gets to his knees, a well timed and viciously executed Scissor Kick snaps him right back down! Raynor then looks down at his boot... back up at the badger...

 

“Oh we are so sued.”

 

Raynor begins unlacing his boot! The referee immediately demands to know what's going on – as Raynor yanks his size 11's off, he gestures his boot towards the badger, explaining something we can't hear... and a moment later, the referee nods.

 

“Oh we are so sued.”

 

Raynor begins to slowly tiptoe towards Honeydew, who continues to gnash and spit in his direction – he reaches out with his boot and taps the badger, and the momentum sends her swinging around the pole! Another tap, another loop, and soon the momentum has wrapped all of the wire Honeydew hangs from around the pole! Tired of seeing the room spin, the badger digs her claws into the pole and manages to catch them, but with no extra slack she's stuck to the pole! Raynor leans back in the corner and peers up – Honeydew spits and howls, but her claws remain dug into the pole, and she no longer has the reach to hit him!

 

Pleased with himself, Raynor turns back-

 

*WHAM*

 

- to eat a picture perfect dropkick to the face! He scrambles to his feet, but a second dropkick puts him right back down, and a third pushes him back into the badger's corner! Raynor looks up in horror – the impact he made in corner has knocked Honeydew loose, and the wire begins to unwrap, sending the badger spinning in the opposite direction! Raynor angrily reaches out to punch the little bastard, but it grabs onto his hand and digs in! Chris manages to pull away a moment later, with a sizeable piece of his thumb no longer attached! He panics and runs out of the corner, where Jimmy is waiting! A quick series of palm thrusts push Raynor back into the corner! He drops down and rolls out, swearing a blue streak, as the referee begins to count him out again!

 

“How sad is it that Jimmy needs help from a badger to win?”

 

“How sad is it that Raynor can't overcome a badger?”

 

“Touche.”

 

Pacing on the outside and nursing his thumb, Raynor looks absolutely beside himself... Jimmy, on the other hand, is reaching up to Honeydew and scratching her chin! Raynor sees a golden opportunity and he takes it, shooting up the stairs and leaping onto the pole! Before Jimmy realizes what's happening, Raynor's right hand feels around the top of the pole – finds the wire, and yanks it free!

 

“The badger is loose! I repeat, the badger is loose!”

 

Raynor drops down to the apron and then the floor, now essentially holding the leash of an incredibly pissed off badger. And it's a very short leash.

 

“What can he do with it, though? That badger absolutely hates hi- it's chasing him!”

 

Despite being higher up on the food chain, Raynor flees at the sight of this Alpha Badger, still holding on to the short end of wire that hugs Honeydew's foot! They make two full laps around the ring before Raynor finally turns to stand his ground! Honeydew leaps off the steps and towards her aggressor, but Raynor sidesteps, and follows through with the momentum to swing the badger around and-

 

“There is no word to describe just how sued we are.”

 

-he shotputs the badger out into the audience, at least twenty rows deep!

 

“Damn! Good arm, Raynor!”

 

Jimmy looks absolutely heartbroken at the sight, and he rolls out of the ring and tries to go out into the crowd to retrieve Honeydew, but Raynor intercepts him at the guard rail and smashes his face down into it – once, twice, thrice, then wheels around and tosses Jimmy back into the ring before rolling in himself, barely beating the count out! Doom is still dazed from those nasty headbutts he gave the guardrail, and Raynor capitalizes – he yanks Jimmy up to his feet and hurls him into the ropes, and picks him up on the way back for a Tilt-a-whirl backbreaker! He then runs to the nearest corner and hops up to the second rope, then hops off again to drive the point of his elbow right between the Doomtopian's eyes!

 

“And here's the cover!”

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

TH- Jimmy kicks out!

 

Raynor grabs Jimmy's legs and stands between them, then rotates to put his back towards Honeydew's corner and rolls back, slingshotting the poor Doomtopian face-first into the pole for the second time tonight!

 

“And it looks like Raynor finally has a decent strategy – technically the badger is meant to be the weapon, but the pole is there, and it's not against the rules!”

 

After smacking his head into the pole, Jimmy falls straight onto his back, with his left leg only slightly twitching. Raynor grabs his arm and drags him back towards the center of the ring, then drops on top of him and hooks the leg!

 

ONE!

 

“This could be it...”

 

TWO!

 

“Raynor could have it!”

 

THR-

 

*SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE*

 

With no tag team partner to leap in and make the save, our intrepid badger has taken it upon herself to fill in! Just after the referee's hand hit for one, Honeydew came scampering up the steps and onto the top rope, and now leaps off in a Flying Cross Badger! The impact is nothing, but the site of a gigantic furry ball of claws and teeth is enough to freak Raynor out, causing him to break the pin! He throws a few wild punches and finally manages to get Honeydew off of his face! He then grabs ahold of the wire attached to her leg and makes a mad dash for the ropes! He slides out of the ring and quickly begins wrapping the wire around the bottom rope, forming quite possibly the ugliest knot ever seen – the badger catches up with him and latches onto his arm, but Raynor keeps at it, and when he tears himself away from Honeydew's grip we see the badger is now stuck on the apron, with less than an inch of slack holding him to the bottom rope!

 

“I don't think we ever learned that knot in Boy Scouts.”

 

“The Jesus Fuck Get This Badger Off Me knot? It's a variation of the Anchor Bend.”

 

Raynor falls away, now inspecting the scratches and bite marks all over his arms... content that he doesn't yet have rabies, he turns his attention back to Jimmy, who must still be out from those guard rail shots, as he's still lying in the center of the ring. Raynor leans over-

 

-and takes a nasty Hand of Doom straight to the throat! The Rayn-man collapses, wheezing and choking and generally hating life as the Doomtopian, who had been playing possum (or badger?) leaps to his feet! Jimmy sends a quick series of kicks into Raynor's face, and finishes the series with a second Yak Kick with enough force to push Raynor back into the ropes! Off the rebound, he tries for a clumsy clothesline, with Doom easily sidesteps – he hooks the Rayn-man from behind, lifts him and-

 

“-absolutely plants Raynor with the Jimmy-plex!” shouts Mak, as the German crowd once again gets behind their hero. “Here's the cover!”

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THR-Raynor just gets the shoulder up!

 

Jimmy keeps the pressure on him, dropping a number of quick precise elbows into his opponent's chest, before running to the ropes and leaping about six inches higher than average Doomtopians of his size, weight and age, driving his knee straight across the Rayn-man's face! He yanks Raynor up to his feet and delivers another Hand of Doom to Raynor's throat!

 

Jimmy then does something.

 

“Uh oh! Looks like the Death Submission is coming up!”

 

Jimmy continues to do things.

 

“I can't even describe how painful this looks!”

 

Until it's locked in – a submission so grotesque that most are at a loss of words! Raynor howls in pain, and stretches the only part of his body not racked with intense pain – his right hand – toward the ropes, and he manages to snare the botto-

 

*CHOMP*

 

“Raynor's own hurry to neutralize the badger has backfired – he picked the nearest rope, and that's the rope he needs right now!”

 

Raynor's hand flails wildly, trying to find somewhere else, anywhere else, but there's nothing! With no other choice, he closes his eyes... grits his teeth... and seizes the bottom rope again. Honeydew pounces, applying the Badger equivalent of the Crippler Crossface on Raynor's injured thumb! The referee sees this, and tells Doom to break the hold! Jimmy keeps it on, and the referee begins to count-

 

“But Raynor might not make it that long! Jimmy is breaking his body into twenty seven pieces, and that badger-

 

ONE!

 

“Look at him go!”

 

TWO!

 

It would take an extraordinary man to withstand the Death Submission.

 

THREE!

 

It would take an act of unparalleled awesomeness to withstand a Badger eating your hand off.

 

FOUR!

 

No man can be expected to take both.

 

*TAP TAP TAP*

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

*DING DING DING*

 

“The winner of this bout... JIMMY THE DOOOOOOOOOOOM!”

 

Linkin Park has been booed offstage, thank God, so it's Muse's turn to take a stab at “Yakety Sax”, as Jimmy's Druids surround the ring to congratulate their leader, and to free their new prophet, Honeydew.

 

“Well that was... an... interesting match...”

 

“Don't sugar coat it, Mak, that was a travesty.”

 

“Look, we've gone from manatees to badgers – honestly, I think that's an improvement.”

 

“... fair point.”

 

“In any event, while someone mops the... presents... Honeydew left us, we're going to take a quick commercial break, but stay tuned! Up next we've got the New Blood Finals Championship Match, a Ladder Match, between Fulminatus and Michael Alexander!”

 

Faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaadeout.

 

Edited July 13, 2007 by chirs3

[chirs3 0]

The enormous crowd of the Rock Am Ring music festival roars with excitement as the band on stage finishes playing a raucous tune during the commercial break.

 

(Mak) Up next, we’re going to see the first ever New Blood Champion crowned as the self-proclaimed “Mad Scientist of the Mat” Michael Alexander takes on the peculiar Fulminatus!

 

[King] I cant believe Flesher’s making Alexander do this. Not only is he being forced to degrade himself by fighting that freak, he has to do it in a ladder match!

 

(Mak) It’s a big title match, why not throw in a stipulation to raise the stakes? It’s called entertaining the fans, King.

 

[King] Why not? WHY NOT?! I’ll tell you why not! Because Alexander’s out of his element, that’s why not. Now he can’t just throw on the Gordian Knot, make that masked creep scream for mercy, and become the first ever New Blood Champion! He has to try and wrestle some costumed phony in a freaking LADDER MATCH!!

 

(Mak) Come on, it’s not like the match particularly favors Fulminatus. As far as I know, he’s no “Ladder Match Specialist”. Besides, we’ve never gotten a chance to see what Michael Alexander can do outside of a straight singles match.

 

[King] Don’t worry, he’ll show us just how capable he is tonight. He’s “The Mad Scientist of the Mat,” remember? He’s inventive!

 

(Mak) You’re right there, King. Let’s give it over to Funyon!

 

Standing in the center of the ring, Funyon raises the mic and announces. “Ladies and gentlemen! The following contest is scheduled for ONE fall and is a LADDER MATCH!!” The ring announcer extraordinaire pauses and shifts gears. “I would like to now draw your attention to the object hanging high above my head. In the SWF we’ve had World Championships. We’ve had Hardcore Championships. We’ve even had International Championships. But the belt above me is different. It is a beacon of hope to all of our up-and-coming wrestlers. This is the SWF NEWWWW BLOOOOD CHAMPIONSHIIIIP!!”

 

True to his word, nigh on eighteen feet above the ring, suspended from a metal scaffolding of some sort, hangs a championship belt. It shines brightly, yet untarnished by the myriad head smashings and blood-coatings that it will no doubt eventually receive.

 

[King] Damn, that is a nice looking belt. I can’t believe we wasted our money on that thing.

 

(Mak) What are you talking about?

 

[King] Come on. We only have, what, five, maybe six new guys who can compete for that belt? That’s an awfully small group of guys for us to waste our money on such an elaborate belt.

 

(Mak) We get new wrestlers all the time! The New Blood Championship is gonna turn out to be a very important title in the coming months, just wait.

 

[King] Bah, it’s a pointless title. It just means that you’re the best of the worst wrestlers in the company. That’s kinda like bragging about being the World’s Tallest Midget.

 

The pulsing electronic beat of “Dread Rock” by Paul Oakenfold pumps through the speakers as re-mixed and re-played by one of the many DJs present at the festival. The fans instantly begin to boo, before even seeing the wrestler to whom the music belongs. On the SmarkTron, the Vitruvian Man’s limbs light up in accordance with shots of Alexander punishing an opponent’s body. Then, as sure as the dawn, Michael Alexander emerges from the back and begins walking down the aisle. As the German crowd hurls insults at the mat technician, he simply walks past them down to the ring, a little more focused than usual.

 

“Introducing first… from Greenville, South Carolina, he weighs in at two hundred and twenty one pounds… ‘The Mad Scientist of the Mat’ MICHAAAAEL ALEXAAAANDEEEER!!”

 

The crowd renews their hatred as the indifferent Michael Alexander enters the ring and goes to his corner, adjusting his ring gear. He looks intently towards the entrance as his music fades and Funyon begins to speak again.

 

“And his opponent…”

 

The lights don’t go out, seeing as the ring is outside, but a large explosion of sparks does erupt from the stage. What more or less sounds like “Inna-Gadda-Da-Vida” begins to play, only at approximately twice the speed and containing a whole hell of a lot more accordion! Indeed, the gypsy-punk band Gogol Bordello has taken the stage and are dancing around, violently playing their own sped-up version of the song. From out of the backstage area wanders Fulminatus, and he makes his way over to the band. His limbs twitch violently and he begins “dancing” along with the musicians.

 

[King] I can’t tell if he’s dancing or having a seizure.

 

(Mak) I’m not entirely sure that it matters.

 

[King] How is it the only time he doesn’t look out of place is when he’s surrounded by gypsies?

 

Funyon makes himself heard “His opponent, weighing in at one hundred and ninety pounds… FULMINAAAATUUUUS!!” A portion of the crowd cheers Fulminatus, as he is apparently becoming surprisingly popular.

 

His pre-match celebration over, Fulminatus hops down from the stage and makes his way through the crowd to the ring. Lightly mauled by the likely intoxicated German fans, Fulminatus reaches the guardrail and hops it, security making sure none of the fans follow him. In the ring, Michael Alexander eyes his opponent carefully, as he has done since Fulminatus appeared on the stage. His eyes fixed, Alexander takes mental notes on every facet of his opponent, as the masked man slides into the ring.

 

DING!! DING!!

 

“The Mad Scientist of the Mat” crouches down, holding his arms out, signaling his opponent to initiate a collar-and-elbow tie-up. Fulminatus, for his part, just looks perplexed. Carefully, he walks up to his opponent, not quite sure what Alexander’s up to. Finally Fulminatus understands what the gesture signifies. A broad, warm smile then crosses the madman’s lips as he holds his arms out to accept his opponent’s offer for a pre-match hug. Michael has no such intentions, however, and he grabs his unwitting opponent around the head and whirls him to the mat with a headlock takedown! As soon as he hits the ground, Alexander jams his knee into Fulminatus’ back and slaps on a rear chinlock.

 

[King] Did Fulminatus seriously not know what a collar-and-elbow tie-up was?

 

(Mak) I’m sure he knows. Maybe he just… forgot…

 

[King] Mak, the man just went for a hug…

 

(Mak) Maybe it’s just been a while since he’s fought a technical wrestler—

 

[King] He went for a HUG in a damn WRESTLING MATCH!!

 

The hold securely in place, Alexander leans back, trying to make a Pez dispenser out of Fulminatus. Struggling against the hold, Fulminatus shifts his weight to the side, forcing Michael to break the hold. Determined to keep his opponent on the mat, the Mad Scientist moves over and grabs a hold of Fulminatus’ masked head with a seated side-headlock. Before he can get enough pressure applied to secure the hold, though, Alexander is unseated by Fulminatus who begins to stand up, firing elbows to the side of his opponent to force him to break the hold!

 

The resilient mat technician maintains his side-headlock and uses his hold to shove the masked man forward and into the ropes. As Fulminatus bounces back, Michael Alexander uses the running momentum to quickly send his opponent to the mat with a drop toe-hold which he quickly rolls up into a half Boston crab. Quickly, he stands up so as to add extra torque to Fulminatus’ back and leg. Unfortunately Alexander allowed his lithe opponent to wiggle out from between his legs, escaping the hold. Turning himself over onto his back, his left leg still held by Michael, Fulminatus fires off a quick kick to the chin with his free leg, sending the technical wrestler back into the ropes! As quickly as he can, Fulminatus rolls out of the ring to regroup.

 

(Mak) Michael Alexander showing Fulminatus what technical wrestling is all about.

 

[King] That’ll teach that freak! Look at him, hiding on the outside. He doesn’t know what to do against someone like Alexander!

 

(Mak) You’re right about that, King. It doesn’t look like Fulminatus has the first clue about fighting a technical wrestler.

 

That does appear to be the case, as Fulminatus regroups himself on the outside, rubbing his head and generally getting his “wits” about him. Regaining his bearings, if he had them in the first place, Fulminatus looks to his right and sees the metal ladder all ready for him to take the advantage with. A happy smirk crosses his face as he grabs the ladder and folds it back up, sliding it in the ring before sliding in himself. Alexander isn’t about to let Fulminatus get ahead in this match and as the ladder comes sliding into the ring, “The Mad Scientist of the Mat” simply pushes it back outside. The metal ladder clangs to the floor in front of the Spanish announcers’ table.

 

As soon as Fulminatus gets to a crouching position on his feet, Alexander runs up and nails him in the face with a knee lift! As Fulminatus’ back hits the mat, the Mad Scientist walks up and grinds his boot into the masked face of his opponent. The crowd groans in sympathy and the referee expresses his displeasure, but Michael simply chooses to ignore them. His familiar cocksure grin returns to his face and Alexander bends over to pick up Fulminatus by the head, slapping him disrespectfully while he’s down there.

 

(Mak) Great sportsmanship by Michael Alexander.

 

[King] What are you talking about? A slap is a perfectly legal maneuver in wrestling. Especially when your opponent is damn near helpless.

 

(Mak) Fulminatus is going to have to get his act together soon or he wont stand a chance.

 

As Alexander wastes his time taunting his opponent, Fulminatus reaches up and chops Michael across the throat with the side of his hand! The crowd cheers as Fulminatus stands and starts throwing sharp chops across the chest of the gasping Alexander. Building up speed with chop after chop, Fulminatus backs his opponent against the ropes and in one grand motion… stomps on Alexander’s foot. The seemingly silly maneuver causes the swelling of the crowd to dissipate somewhat, replaced with a sort of mild chuckling as Alexander leans back against the ropes and holds his foot.

 

Grasping his hurt opponent by the wrist, Fulminatus whips Alexander to the corner and charges after him. Just as Michael hits the turnbuckles, the masked man runs up to him and leaps in the air with a spin kick. In the very nick of time, the Mad Scientist moves out of the way, allowing Fulminatus to spin kick nothing but padding. With Fulminatus even temporarily on the mat, Michael Alexander scurries over and drops a knee to the side of his face! His opponent thoroughly incapacitated, Alexander lifts Fulminatus to his feet and whips him into the ropes across the ring. As he bounces back, the madman slides between Michael’s legs and outside in front of the announcers’ table to safety.

 

(Mak) It looks like Fulminatus is in a bit of a hurry to get away from Michael Alexander.

 

[King] He’s flat out scared, look at him! He has no idea what to do against an opponent of this caliber.

 

(Mak) This match is really logic versus illogic, King. Every single move that Alexander makes is precise and calculated, designed to inflict a specific amount of punishment on a certain part of the body at the correct time. Nothing Fulminatus does makes sense. I’m not entirely sure that Fulminatus has any sort of a battle plan whatsoever when he steps into the ring. It’s as though he’s behaving purely at random.

 

[King] He’s a freaking nut-bar. End of story.

 

On the outside, Fulminatus grabs the ladder and again slides it into the ring, hoping to gain some sort of advantage over his technically sound opponent. This time, Michael Alexander is ready to use the ladder and he picks it up but at the same time, his spry opponent leaps up to the top turnbuckle. With Alexander’s guard temporarily down, Fulminatus leaps off the top and dropkicks the ladder into Michael’s face! The crowd cheers and Fulminatus quickly gets to his feet and grabs the ladder from on top of Alexander, setting up right in the middle of the ring.

 

As quickly as he can manage, Fulminatus climbs the ladder, urgently trying to get the belt. Lying dazed on the mat, Alexander catches sight of his costumed opponent scaling the ladder. The Mad Scientist quickly gets to his feet and goes to the ladder, grabbing Fulminatus by his tights. Caught off guard, Fulminatus reaches back and takes a swing at Alexander, but it’s too late. Nearly showing Fulminatus’ backside to the crowd, Michael Alexander pulls his opponent off the ladder, sending him slamming back first to the mat.

 

(Mak) Fulminatus trying to end this match early, King.

 

[King] Did he seriously think that he could tip-toe up the ladder and grab the belt without Alexander noticing him? He’s a SCIENTIST for crying out loud!

 

(Mak) I’m pretty sure that’s just a nickname. Kinda like you’re name. You’ve never committed suicide and you don’t rule over any sort of medieval kingdom.

 

[King] Says the man in the wheelchair who still calls himself “The Franchise”.

 

Deciding it’s time to get wicked, Michael Alexander picks up his opponent, grabs him by the arm, and whips him into the ropes. As the dazed Fulminatus comes back, Alexander grabs the ladder and tips it over, causing the running man to smash helplessly into the metal climbing implement. Both Fulminatus and the ladder crash to the ground and Michael looks on, pleased with his handiwork.

 

Alexander lifts the ladder off his opponent and picks him up, tossing the ladder off to the side. When he is on his feet, Alexander attempts to whip his opponent into the ropes once again, but Fulminatus reverses the whip and sends Michael flying! As the Professor of Pain bounces back, he runs face-first into Fulminatus’ head! Alexander gets up quickly, but is sent right back to the mat with another devastating headbutt!

 

(Mak) Fulminatus throwing some devastating headbutts!

 

[King] Yeah, real devastating…

 

The crowd is really starting to get behind Fulminatus now as Michael gets back up again and is sent to the mat with one more headbutt. Now Alexander is sufficiently dazed and Fulminatus stands in the corner and waves his arms for the Mad Scientist to stand. As he rises to his feet, the masked man takes his two step approach and leaps into the air, spinning his legs high over his head with Fortuna’s Wheel, his no-handed aerial cartwheel! Instead of his spinning kick hitting it’s mark, Alexander snaps out his daze and steps to the side, shoving the flying Fulminatus out of the way!

 

As Fulminatus awkwardly lands the move, his left knee bends in a way it was never meant to and the masked man howls in pain. Alexander looks at his opponent and grins; he has found his opening. Crawling away, Fulminatus favors his left knee and holds it gingerly.

 

[King] What a dumbass!

 

(Mak) Fulminatus landed bad on that left knee of his. He hurt it a few weeks ago on Storm in a match against The Fabulous Jakey, and he’s been watching it ever since.

 

[King] He’s toast now. Alexander saw him hurt that leg. You cant let a man as dangerous as Michael Alexander see you get hurt. He might as well just tap out now.

 

(Mak) This is a ladder match, King.

 

[King] That’s what YOU think!

 

(Mak) Uh… yeah.

 

Like a shark who smells blood, Michael Alexander immediately goes for that injured leg and begins throwing quick kicks to the knee. Try as he might, Fulminatus cannot keep his leg away from Alexander, relentlessly throwing kick after kick at the knee. Finally, doing the only thing he can, Fulminatus rolls to the outside, falling with a thump to the floor. Michael Alexander follows him outside slowly, calculating each move in his head. When he gets to the outside, though, Fulminatus is gone! All he sees is the ring apron jostling, enough to tell him his opponent has crawled desperately under the ring.

 

[King] What a coward! Crawling under the ring to try and hide.

 

(Mak) That might be a wiser choice than I thought a guy like Fulminatus could make. If he needs a minute or two to recover, under the ring’s not a bad place to be.

 

[King] I still say he’s just a chicken. And no, not Exploding Chicken, before you ask.

 

Michael Alexander bends over and lifts up the curtain, but the darkness under the ring prevents him from seeing anything other than more darkness. The sounds of movement are audible and it sounds as though the most moving is coming from the side of the ring facing the aisle. Quickly, Michael Alexander goes to the other side of the ring and throws up the curtain revealing a smiling Fulminatus holding a fire extinguisher. A cloud of white carbon dioxide sprays into Alexander’s eyes and he stumbles backward.

 

(Mak) And Fulminatus has a fire extinguisher!

 

Abandoning the fire extinguisher behind him, Fulminatus then charges at his opponent, staggering him with sharp chops to the chest. With a kick to the gut, the madman doubles over his opponent and shoves his head in between his legs. As if possessed by something more powerful and confusing than himself, Fulminatus leans his head back and howls at the top of his lungs.

 

“FNOOOOOOOOOORD~!!”

 

The fans excitement grows as Michael Alexander is hoisted onto Fulminatus’ shoulders and then slammed to the barely-padded concrete outside! The crowd roars their approval and the masked man then wanders back into the ring.

 

(Mak) And a powerbomb on the outside to “The Mad Scientist of Wrestling!”

 

[King] That’s not legal! Tell the ref to do something about this!

 

(Mak) Ladder matches are pretty much anything goes, King. You know that.

 

[King] I didn’t ask you what I already know, I asked you to stop Fulminatus from being a cheating bastard!

 

(Mak) It never bothered you before…

 

[King] What the hell is “fnord,” anyway?

 

Fulminatus enters the ring and immediately goes to the ladder, grabbing it and setting it up under the belt. Slowly, step by step he climbs, heavily favoring that injured left knee. As he nears the top of the ladder, Fulminatus looks down at his opponent, starting to come to on the outside, holding the back of his head. The madman looks up at the belt which is almost within his grasp, then he looks at Alexander lying on the outside. The crowd buzzes as Fulminatus looks back and forth between the belt and the Mad Scientist before making the only logical decision.

 

[King] He’s not gonna…

 

 

He uses all the strength in his healthy leg and leaps twenty-something odd feet to the ground below onto Michael Alexander!

 

 

(Mak) FLIEGENDE KINDERSCHEISSE!!

 

[King] What…?

 

Awkwardly, the one hundred and ninety pounds of insane humanity comes tumbling down onto most of Michael Alexander’s upper torso in a big splash! Both men lie on the outside, largely unmoving except for their heaving chests as both men gasp for air. The crowd begins to roar a chant in unison:

 

“HOLY SHIT!!”

 

“HOLY SHIT!!”

 

“HOLY SHIT!!”

 

(Mak) UNBELIEVABLE!! Fulminatus just flew what had to be twenty five feet to the floor on top of Alexander! These two had better be thankful there are no count-outs in a match like this.

 

[King] Yeah yeah, that was amazing. What the hell did you just yell?

 

(Mak) What? “Unbelievable?”

 

[King] No, the German thing.

 

(Mak) Oh, that. It was in that envelop he handed me a few weeks ago. It said to yell… whatever it is I yelled whenever Fulminatus jumps off of something really high.

 

[King] What the hell does it mean?

 

(Mak) Not sure… I guess I’ll have to ask Todd deKindes next time I see him.

 

The mass of flesh and tights on the ground begins to twitch and move until finally, from under Fulminatus’ carcass, Michael Alexander crawls out. Apparently the big jump from the top of the ladder did more damage to it’s deliverer than to it’s target. The mat wrestler pushes the body of Fulminatus off of him and begins to get to his feet. He staggers to the ring and rolls in slowly, no longer the cocky wrestler he was at the beginning of the match. Breathing heavily and intermittently holding the back of his head, Alexander repositions the ladder and begins to climb.

 

(Mak) I cant believe that Michael Alexander is even moving after that big splash from twenty feet in the air!

 

[King] Well, believe it, Mak! Believe it and get ready to congratulate the SWF’s first ever New Blood Champion! Whoo!

 

(Mak) I thought you said the belt was pointless!

 

[King] It’s pointless on any less of a wrestler than Michael Alexander, Mak.

 

(Mak) Well, you may be—Oh my God, will you look at that!

 

Astoundingly, Fulminatus has also gotten to his feet and is shambling his way to the ring as best as he can. On the ladder, Alexander climbs slowly, confident that he will reach the belt before Fulminatus even comes to. However, his confidence is shattered by a sloppy forearm to the back from his groggy opponent. Attempting to dislodge Fulminatus, Michael kicks his leg downward, but to no avail, as Fulminatus has begun to climb the other side of the ladder.

 

Soon they are both on the ladder and are throwing hard shots at the other one! After several stiff shots back and forth, Alexander realizes that his efforts are useless and attempts a more scientific approach. Michael hops down off the ladder, leaving Fulminatus to continue climbing toward the belt. The crowd builds with anticipation for the masked madman’s triumph, but then quickly turns to horror as Michael Alexander grabs the ladder and shoves it over, leaving Fulminatus to plummet to the mat below!

 

(Mak) Oh my god!

 

[King] That a boy, Mikey! That’s using your head!

 

As Fulminatus and the ladder come tumbling down, the masked man tries to cushion the blow by catching himself on his feet, but his injured leg takes the brunt of the blow and he again yells in pain! Alexander makes no mistakes this time, and as soon as Fulminatus lands, the technical wrestler is right there on top of him to capitalize. Swinging his leg as hard as it can go, Michael Alexander kicks the wounded left knee of Fulminatus repeatedly, ensuring that he will not easily be able to stand again for the duration of the match.

 

(Mak) That’s enough! Leave the damn leg alone!

 

[King] No, don’t listen to him! Rip it off!

 

To add to the damage done, Alexander takes the hurt leg of his opponent and twists it between the second and third rope, twisting the leg farther than it should bend. Grabbing the injured limb, Michael turns the leg and bends it in the opposite direction, eliciting yet another cry of pain from Fulminatus. His work on the rope done, Alexander releases Fulminatus’ leg from the ropes. A wry smile crosses the lips of the Professor of Pain as he decides to put the final nail in Fulminatus’ no-doubt flamboyant coffin.

 

(Mak) What’s Alexander gonna do here?

 

Moving to Fulminatus’ feet, Michael Alexander pulls his masked opponent into the middle of the ring, pushing the ladder a few feet out of the way. After a few disparaging remarks and a slap to the masked face, the “Mad Scientist of the Mat” grabs Fulminatus’ feet, wraps his legs around his opponent’s, leans back, and ties The Gordian Knot! Although most of Fulminatus’ face is obscured by a mask, the pain he is feeling is clearly evident. Harsh, guttural screams well up from inside Fulminatus’ deranged belly and explode out of his mouth.

 

[King] He’s got the Gordian Knot locked in! Fulminatus has literally no place to go! This is great!

 

(Mak) That Reverse Indian Deathlock is locked in for sure. Fulminatus is helpless!

 

He is helpless indeed, as he struggles and attempts to claw his way out of the hold, but to no end. Fulminatus is stuck in the middle of the ring. Michael Alexander simply smiles, though struggling to keep the excruciating hold applied. Finally after being able to take no more, Fulminatus beings to slap his hand on the mat, signaling to the referee that he is had enough. It is the ref’s unfortunate task to inform Fulminatus that since the match is a ladder match, there are no submissions. Fulminatus’ eyes grow wide behind his mask.

 

[King] Look at him trying to tap out! This is too much! I love it! Where’s my camera?

 

(Mak) I don’t think that’s appropriate, man. This guy’s getting his leg broken in there!

 

[King] I know, isn’t it great? Hold still… There! Oh, that came out great! I’m definitely making that my MySpace picture as soon as I get home.

 

Eventually, Michael Alexander grows tired of playing his game with Fulminatus and decides to end this failed experiment. Mercifully, he releases Fulminatus from the hold and drags him against the ropes, propping his head on the bottom rope. Very audibly, Alexander says to Fulminatus “You will watch this.” Without a second’s hesitation, the Mad Scientist begins to climb the ladder, ascending it step by step. When he gets nearly to the top, he turns to the crowd with his familiar smirk. They yell their hatred at full force as Alexander takes his time getting the belt.

 

As he reaches the top rung of the ladder, Michael reaches out and his fingers scrape the side of the belt, the ladder almost too far off center to reach. Suddenly, his balance is shaken! He looks down and what should he see but Fulminatus laying on the mat, shaking the ladder in a desperate attempt to unseat the soon-to-be New Blood Champion. With a shrug of his shoulders, Alexander goes back to work attempting to grab the belt. Mustering up all of his upper body strength, until Fulminatus actually manages to tip the ladder over from his sitting position!

 

(Mak) Look out!

 

[King] What?

 

The ladder tips slowly, wobbling at first, but then finally falling forward, carrying Michael Alexander with it! Falling through the cool night air, the “Mad Scientist of the Mat” falls and crashes through the little seen and less mentioned Spanish announcers’ table! The crowd roars their approval as the Professor of Pain smashes the cheap pressboard piece of furniture. Lying motionless on the ground, the Mad Scientist wonders what variable caused this result.

 

(Mak) Michael Alexander just fell off the ladder and hit the Spanish announcers’ table right next to us! He’s got to be out.

 

[King] Those guys can never catch a break…

 

In the ring, Fulminatus struggles to his feet, only to find only one of them in working order. Barely putting any pressure on the foot at all, the masked man “stands” and resituates the ladder. With great difficulty, Fulminatus begins to climb the ladder, gingerly placing his injured foot on the rung and then hopping up with the good foot. This awkward motion almost tips him over several times.

 

[King] That has got to be the slowest I’ve ever seen a guy climb a ladder…

 

It is so slow, in fact, that on the outside, Michael Alexander begins to stir beneath the pieces of cheap “wood”. Crawling out of what looks like a car crash, the Mad Scientist is struggling to make his way to the ring. Both men have been beaten senseless, but Alexander looks to be the better, having two properly functioning legs. As Fulminatus struggles awkwardly up the ladder, Alexander stumbles toward the ring. Finally, Fulminatus reaches the top rung of the ladder and reaches for the belt, but he can’t extend his reach far enough on one leg.

 

(Mak) He can’t reach it!

 

A highly irritated Michael rolls in the ring and approaches the ladder and shakes it, attempting to knock the wobbly wrestler atop it loose. Still woozy from his trip through the announcers’ table, he can’t quite muster up the strength to tip the ladder, so he instead opts to climb it. At a much faster pace than Fulminatus is at the top of the ladder and begins to throw right hands at his opponent. The masked madman takes the punches and shrugs them off, having come too far now to be stopped. But try as he might, Fulminatus still can’t reach the belt. He then realizes what he has to do. With every drop of energy in his functioning leg, Fulminatus leaps off the ladder and grabs the belt in mid-air!

 

(Mak) Oh my god!

 

[King] NO!!

 

With a thud, Fulminatus hits the mat, the belt still clutched in his hand. The referee signals to the timekeeper to ring the bell.

 

DING!! DING!! DING!!

 

Still standing on the ladder, Michael Alexander looks shocked, unable to believe what he’s seeing. The crowd bursts into cheers as they hear Funyon’s voice from ringside. “Ladies and gentlemen, your winner of the match and FIRST EVER NEW BLOOD CHAMPION… FULMINAAAATUUUUS!!”

 

(Mak) Wow! Amazing victory by Fulminatus! Leaping off the ladder and grabbing the belt in mid flight! Unbelievable!

 

[King] Meh, it’s a worthless belt anyway. Who gives a crap?

 

(Mak) Apparently the fans do, King. Listen!

 

Sure enough, as Fulminatus is helped to the back, the crowd of the Rock Am Ring music festival is filling the night air with the chant of a single word.

 

“FULMINATUS!!” *clap! clap! clapclapclap!*

 

“FULMINATUS!!” *clap! clap! clapclapclap!*

 

“FULMINATUS!!” *clap! clap! clapclapclap!*

 

[King] What does that prove? The Germans love Hasslehoff…

 

(Mak) It proves that Fulminatus is now the first ever SWF New Blood Champion, King! Stay tuned, we’ll be right back!

 

 

* FADE *

Edited July 14, 2007 by chirs3

[chirs3 0]

“Well, King, up next is a Hardcore Rules match with possibly the least likely participants!” Mak Francis hypothesizes.

 

The lights dim and the band up on the stage begins to play “Personal Jesus” by Marilyn Manson. The crowd roars and the lights begin to flash on and off. Megan Skye appears on the apron, leaving the crowd of mostly men to cheer louder, before she signals the arrival of her man …

 

…as Landon Maddix emerges onto the ramp, with the Hardcore Gamers Championship around his waist. He appears to be relaxed.

 

“The following is a non-title, HARDCORE RULES MATCH!” Funyon bellows while Landon and Megan walk down the ramp soaking up the glory of the fans cheering. “Introducing first, being Accompanied to the ring by MEGAN SKYE! Hailing from Huron, South Dakota by way of Madrid, Spain... weighing in at two hundred and eight pounds... he is the SWF Hardcore Gamers Champion … LLLAAAAAANNDDOOOOONN... "LA CUCARACHA"... MMMMMAAAAAAAAADDIIIIIIIIIXXXXXXXXXXXXXX!!!!"

 

 

Landon leaps up onto the ring apron staring at the crowd as Megan takes the steps. Megan opens the ropes for him as he enters the ring, and they both stand in the center posing Shawn Michaels-style.

 

“This crowd in Germany certainly on the side of Maddix tonight!” Mak Francis yells. “He certainly looks to be in a better mood than the last time we saw him in the ring!”

 

“I don’t even understand why this crowd is cheering him!” Suicide King cries. “He didn’t even want the Hardcore Gamers title, he won it and ended a year-long reign by Jimmy the Doom, and now he won’t even sign the papers to fight MANSON at Ground Zero!”

 

Landon hands his belt to Megan and stands in the corner lightly stretching his arms while red and pink lights fill the arena. The house band flares up the synthesizers, trying to play techno music the best way a rock band can.

 

“His opponent…” Funyon begins.

 

A grocery cart is the first thing the fans see coming from the curtain, as The Fabulous Jakey emerges pushing a cart full of various weapons/household items.

 

“Is this when someone says business is about to pick up?!” Suicide King asks excitedly.

 

“Not really,” Mak Francis demurs.

 

Funyon continues: “Representing Revolution-Zero! From Minneapolis, Minnesota, weighing in at 160 lbs., he is the SWF Cruiserweight Champion, THE FABULOUS JAKEY!”

 

Jakey doesn’t have his title on him, but he is wearing a blood red trenchcoat suggesting he means business.

 

“And to my knowledge, Jakey has never competed in a match of this kind!” Mak Francis asserts.

 

“What, you mean Jakey’s never been hardcore?” Suicide King asks.

 

“I’m … not saying anything past that,” Mak grumbles.

 

Jakey parks the cart at ringside, and before the lights turn off, throws a cookie sheet into the ring! The music stops and the lights turn off, while Megan flees the ring and Landon moves towards the apron.

 

“GET IN THE RING!” Landon yells at his opponent, but Jakey prefers a different route, throwing a trash can lid into the ring that barely misses Landon.

 

“I don’t think Jakey wants to get in the ring!” Mak suggests.

 

Jakey and Landon trash-talk each other in a chess-game situation until …

 

“Wait a minute!” Mak Francis cries. Taking exception, Megan Skye, from behind, throws Jakey into the ring, getting a rise out of the audience. Landon quickly begins to stomp on Jakey, who still has his trenchcoat.

 

“That’s why she gets paid the big bucks!” Mak cries. Landon stomps on Jakey furthermore, then throws him into the turnbuckle and punishes him with a foot choke. Landon picks up the fallen trash can lid and attempts to hit Jakey with it, but the much smaller Jakey ducks out of the way, causing the lid to reflect off of the top turnbuckle and return in Landon’s face!

 

“HAHAHAHAHA!” Suicide King guffaws. “That is by far the greatest thing I have ever seen in my life!”

“You must be a very sad man,” Mak Francis accuses.

 

Jakey takes advantage by quickly turning Landon around and executing a monkey flip, but the agile Landon Maddix lands on his feet, and Jakey turns around into a kick that knocks him to the ground! Landon yells at Megan (not yells in a mean way, but y’know, over the sound and everything) to get him a weapon. Ever the opportunist, Megan digs in Jakey’s cart and throws a broom and trash can in the ring. Jakey gets up, only for Landon to violently swing the broom into his stomach, then breaks it over Jakey’s back, which sends his opponent to his stomach.

 

“And Landon making this match a walk in the park!” Mak yells.

 

As Jakey slowly gets to his feet, Landon strategically places the trash can over the Cruiserweight Champion’s head, leaving the crowd to laugh at the sight gag of Jakey blindly trying to grab Landon. The laughing stops when Landon runs off the top ropes—

 

--and DROPKICKS the trash can (and Jakey), sending Jakey down to the mat! Landon pulls Jakey out of the trash can, then quickly goes for a cover.

 

ONE

 

TWO

 

-and a kickout!

 

Landon picks Jakey up, but the smaller guy buries his head in Landon’s stomach, forcing him to the ropes and through them, causing both men to fall violently to the floor! Jakey’s fall is somewhat broken by Landon, who lands on the outside of the ring with the brunt of his back.

 

“And a rough landing for both men!” Mak Francis yells.

 

Megan Skye claps for Landon, encouraging him to get up. “Landon took the worse of that landing, as Jakey sacrificed himself to get out of the squared circle!” Mak asserts. “I don’t know how well Jakey would fare in a normal match with Landon Maddix, but in this different environment, the scales are a bit tipped!”

 

Jakey gets to his feet a bit before Landon, and he quickly grabs the nearby trash can lid from the ring. Landon returns to his feet, only for Jakey to SMASH the trash can lid over his head! Landon staggers, but doesn’t fall, until Jakey WHAMS him again, this time in a sideswipe attack that also hits his face! The effect is audible and Landon falls to the ground. Jakey yells at the crowd, then finally removes his trenchcoat, revealing his typical jersey underneath. With Landon on his knees facing the fans, Jakey begins to strangle him with the trenchcoat.

 

“YOU LIKE SEEING HIM THIS WAY, HUH?!” Jakey yells to the fans. “HERE’S YOUR CHAMPION!”

 

Jakey knocks Landon back on his stomach, then walks toward the center of the ring to his cart of weapons. Megan gets out of his way as Jakey pulls out a Singapore Cane!

 

“Oh no!” Mak Francis yells. Jakey walks back to Landon, but Landon, on his feet, knocks Jakey down with a clothesline to the floor!

 

Landon throws Jakey back in the ring, then picks up the cane himself, leaving the crowd to roar. Landon gets back in the ring while Jakey backs up, pleading.

 

“What, Jakey doesn’t want to fight anymore?” Mak Francis asks.

 

Landon smirks, then KICKS Jakey in the chest, knocking him down. As Jakey crawls to the corner, Landon WHACKS Jakey in the ass with the cane, the sound renovating through the venue!

 

“The look on his face says it all!” Mak Francis yells.

“This is sadistic!” Suicide King objects, as Landon deftly WHACKS him for a second time!

 

“That’s gotta leave a mark!” Mak cries.

“What, are you gonna check?” Suicide King snaps. “Landon Maddix is being relentless!”

 

Jakey gets himself into the turnbuckle, where he again begs for mercy, while a relaxed Landon stares him down.

 

“You’ve seen how many violent matches here in SWF and it takes Jakey getting hit with a cane for you to cry sadism?” Mak asks.

 

Landon sets down the cane, then gestures at Jakey to come at him. With gumption, Jakey runs at Landon, but runs right into his trap, as Landon easily trips him up with a drop-toe hold – sending Jakey facefirst into the nearby cookie sheet!

 

Landon orders Megan to get him another weapon, and Megan looks under the ring, finding another trash can. Taking his time, Landon takes the trash can and sandwiches it in the turnbuckle ropes, with the open end facing outward.

 

“This doesn’t look good!” Mak predicts. Landon grabs a fallen Jakey by his legs, then positions him directly under the trash can.

 

“Don’t do this!” Suicide King protests.

 

With ease, La Cucaracha CATAPULTS Jakey’s face right into the trash can, the maneuver filling the venue with an echo.

 

“Landon Maddix easing into his role as the new Hardcore Champion!” Mak summarizes. “Now before you start being so accusatory, King, you should think of it that way. Maybe he’s using this match as practice. It IS non-title!”

 

Landon informs Megan to bring something else in the ring, and she goes to the side of the ring closest to the announcer’s table (opposite of the ramp) trying to find something.

 

“Yet again, Landon sends a woman to do a man’s work!” Suicide King accuses. “Can’t even look for himself!”

 

The decision appears to pay off, as Megan pulls a LADDER from the ring! Landon gets out of the ring to help her, and the German crowd approves of Megan’s find! Landon takes the full reins of the ladder, placing it horizontally in the ring, but before he can get back on the apron …

 

..Jakey, back on his feet, baseball slides the ladder right in Landon’s face, knocking him down! With a second wind (and a slightly bleeding mouth), Jakey quickly out of the ring and goes after Landon, hitting him with a few forearms before launching him into the nearby pole!

 

“Perhaps seeing his own blood put some fire into Jakey!” Mak suggests.

 

“Absolutely!” Suicide King agrees, a scary thought. “We’ve seen it happen many times!”

 

“At least it matches his coat!” Mak offers.

 

Jakey picks up Landon and rolls him back into the ring, then takes some time insulting Megan’s attire. Whether or not Megan is seriously offended, it proves to be a mistake, as a regrouped Landon clubs Jakey from behind, then grabs him by the collar, bringing him into the ring the hard way!

 

“And now Jakey’s back where he might not want to be!” Mak yells. “Landon’s got a full arsenal in there, with the trash can lids, the Singapore cane, the ladder!”

 

Landon picks up Jakey and throws him into the far turnbuckle with velocity. Landon runs at Jakey for a charge, but Jakey dodges it! Jakey very quickly picks up a trash can lid, with which he uses to THWACK Landon in the back! As the bigger man grabs his back in pain, Jakey pulls him away from the corner ever so slightly, then hooks a front face lock.

 

“Could this be it?!” Mak cries. “The Jumping Jakey Flash!”

 

Jakey goes for his Springboard DDT-like maneuver, but upon his return off of the ropes, Landon counters it by launching Jakey to the ground, falling right on his (admittedly injured) ass! Jakey merely misses the ladder.

 

“What a counter by Landon!” Mak yells.

 

Landon quickly re-asserts himself, picking up Jakey from behind and hooking the head –

 

“But what’s Landon gonna do? Is this gonna be the Seated Shinarui?”

 

Behind Jakey with the head hooked, Landon runs up the ropes to hit the Sliced Bread #2—

 

And does Jakey one better, as Jakey lands FACEFIRST ON THE LADDER! Unfortunately for Landon, he doesn’t entirely miss the ladder himself, though Jakey took the worse of it.

 

“Did Landon take too much of himself to get that maneuver?” Mak asks.

 

Shaking it off, Landon goes for a cover on the ladder, hooking the leg.

 

“The cover!

 

ONE—

 

TWO—

 

TH—

 

And a kickout!”

 

Landon looks ahead with a menacing look on his face, then looks back to the Singapore cane.

 

“And is this how Landon Maddix plans on getting this over with?” Mak Francis wonders.

 

Jakey begins to stir, and when Landon walks over to the Singapore cane, and the crowd roars, Jakey reacts by initially pleading, then dipping out of the ring entirely.

 

“I don’t believe you can lose a hardcore match by countout!” Mak Francis yells. “I don’t think Jakey can coward his way out of this one!”

 

“Did you just use ‘coward’ as a verb?” Suicide King scoffs.

 

Jakey begins to back up the ramp, towing his grocery cart of weapons with him.

 

“The man is obviously injured!” Suicide King cries. “Not to mention traumatized!”

 

Landon Maddix slowly gets out of the ring, hitting the cane against the ground for dramatic effect. Jakey continues backing up, but the quicker Megan Skye runs up the ramp alongside him, then gets behind him and teasingly blocks him from going any farther.

 

“Megan has certainly been the X factor here!” Mak says.

 

Jakey turns around to yell at Megan, and the distraction gives Landon enough time to get to Jakey. Jakey gulps and stares down Landon, who throws the cart out of the way with a grin.

 

“And Landon has Jakey right where he wants him!”

 

Landon swings with the Singapore cane, and Jakey ducks, then runs back into the ring. Landon slowly chases him, stalking him like he’s the Fisherman from “I Know What You Did Last Summer.”

 

“There’s nowhere for Jakey to run!” Mak cries.

 

Jakey attempts to strike Landon, but Landon overpowers his punch, sending him a violent forearm that knocks him to the ground. Landon picks up Jakey from behind and appears to set up a move to put him away …

 

“This looks like the Lungblower!” Mak predicts.

 

But before Landon can strike, he is alerted by the audience, which quickly goes from cheering to jeering! The action goes to the ramp: Megan is cheering her man on, not realizing that MANSON is right behind her!

 

“What the hell is MANSON doing out here??” Mak Francis cries.

 

Instinctively, Landon releases Jakey, shoving him aside much like he did the grocery cart, while MANSON has a screaming Megan Skye by the hair!

 

“UNHAND HER!” Mak Francis yells. As Landon yells, Jakey schoolboys La Cucaracha!

 

“Jakey’s got a pin!

 

ONE—

 

TWO—

 

THREE!!”

 

“I can’t believe it!” Mak Francis cries.

 

“Here is your winner, THE FABULOUS JAKEY!” Funyon cries as the referee raises Jakey’s arm in the air.

 

As Jakey continues to celebrate his victory, Landon doesn't waste any time mourning his loss. Instead he bails out of the ring and right past the retreating Megan, catching MANSON by surprise with some wild right hands!

 

"YYYYEEEEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!"

 

"Landon, coming to his manageress' rescue!" cheers Mak.

 

The wild rights manage to back MANSON towards the stage, where the confused Fratellis watch on waiting to play their set. MANSON takes the opportunity to bum-rush the stage and scampers up the steps, Landon happy to watch him go as he turns back to Megan and embraces her. She quickly informs him she's okay and to keep going after MANSON, but Landon conveniently decides it's best to 'leave it'.

 

"MANSON succeeding in getting under Landon's skin here tonight and costing him a victory against The Fabulous Jakey. We have not heard the last of this one!" predicts Mak, as we fade away.

[chirs3 0]

As Storm returns to the air, some really lousy pop band that nobody will remember in the morning performs some really lousy song that nobody will remember the title of the morning.

 

Francis: “Welcome back to Storm…”

 

King: “And consider it a blessing that your ears aren’t bleeding. If you didn’t already die from the brain hemorrhaging.”

 

Francis: “And we are ready for yet another fantastic matchup. Jay Hawke, the International Champion, prepares for his huge title unification match when he takes on Austin Sly tonight.”

 

King: “And for the most part, Mak, this one shouldn’t be in doubt. They’ve met a number of times previously, and I can’t remember Austin Sly gaining a victory over Hawke. Ever.”

 

Francis: “Are you saying Revolution Zero only hires scrubs?”

 

King: “Your words, not mine.”

 

Francis: “Indeed, there is a lot of history between these two. It was Jay Hawke who beat Austin Sly to become the final USJL Champion in 2005, so Hawke definitely has the higher profile victories in their rivalry. But now, over two years later, what exactly is in store for these two competitors?”

 

King: “Pain. Suffering. Torture. Good fun for all.”

 

Francis: “Let’s go up to Funyon for the introductions.”

 

Funyon: “Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall with a 20-minute time limit.”

 

As the lights dim, some lousy German band performs a poor cover of Pink Floyd’s “Learning to Fly”.

 

Funyon: “Introducing first, fighting out of the Hall of Fame City of Cleveland, Ohio, and weighing 215 pounds … the SWF International Champion … JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY HAWWWWWWWWWWWWKE!”

 

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

JAY HAWKE SUCKS!

JAY HAWKE SUCKS!

JAY HAWKE SUCKS!”

 

 

Francis: “Even in Germany, these crowds don’t like the champion.”

 

King: “And yet they like David Hasselhoff. Go figure.”

 

Jay Hawke makes his way into the ring and removes his robe, revealing the beautiful International Championship belt. As Hawke removes the belt and hands it to the timekeeper, Funyon continues.

 

Funyon: “Ladies and gentlemen, here to do his cover of the opponent’s theme song “Defy You” … DAVID HASSELHOFF!”

 

King: “God no! Anything but that!”

 

The German fans scream their heads off as the Baywatch star and, for some inexplicable reason, German entertainment sensation takes the stage. The cover band begins to play the music, and you can forget about the normal hush falling over the crowd.

 

 

]'WEL-WEL-W-W-WELCOME TO THE REVOLUTION!'

 

*Boom!*

 

A barrage of silver sparks fills the air as The Sly One’s chosen pyros explode from each side of the entrance ramp, receiving a less than positive response from the crowd on hand.

 

You may push me around,

But you can not win.

You may throw me down,

But I’ll rise again.

 

… escorting Austin from behind the curtain and out onto stage. He pauses at the top of the ramp for only a brief second to take a glance through the audience before he heads towards the ring.

 

Funyon: “And the opponent…from St. Louis, Missouri and weighing in at 240 pounds … representing Revolution Zero…AUSTIN SLY!”

 

Austin climbs the ring steps and enters into the ring between the second and third rope before shooting across the ring and ascending the corner turnbuckles. He stretches his arms out into a crucifixion-esque pose, soaking in the loathing of the fans. He cracks a slight smile before jumping down and going into his pre-match stretches.

 

King: “Make the song stop, Mak. Anything but David Hasselhoff!”

|

David Hasselhoff continues to sing, but it’s not like you can really hear him over the uncontrolled screaming. The music finally dies down, and the crowd erupts in appreciation so loudly that we can barely hear the opening bell over the crowd.

 

 

DING DING DING

 

 

The two competitors circle each other cautiously, neither one of them wanting to make any sort of mistake in the early going. Quickly they lock up. Jay Hawke locks Austin Sly into a side headlock, then slips behind into a hammerlock before maneuvering back into the side headlock.

 

King: “Typical Jay Hawke here, showing us an absolute wrestling clinic.”

 

Austin Sly pushes Jay Hawke off, sending him into the ropes. Hawke comes back and takes him down with a shoulder block. Off the ropes goes Hawke again, but Sly is quickly to his feet. He catches Hawke quickly with a deep arm drag takedown. Both men return to their feet, and this time Hawke takes Sly down with an arm drag. Both men to their feet again, and this time Austin Sly sweeps Hawke’s leg and drops down for the cover, but Hawke quickly gets the shoulder up before referee Nick Soapdish can get into position.

 

Francis: “Quick action in the early going here, and neither man can get the edge on the other.”

 

Jay Hawke gets a legsweep in of his own and goes for the cover, and this time Soapdish is basically already in position:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

Sly quickly kicks out and returns to his feet, and Hawke catches him with a knee into the midsection to double him over. Jay Hawke hooks the head and neck, taking Austin Sly down with a swinging neck breaker and going for the pin again:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

Kickout.

 

Francis: “Quick action, quick fall attempts, and these men are trying to gain the victory in the early going here.”

 

King: “And that’s smart wrestling. You’re not getting paid by the hour out there, why not see if you can get a quick victory out of the deal?”

 

Austin Sly gets to his feet and backs into the corner, and Jay Hawke wisely decides to back off and wait for Sly to move in. Sly slowly moves out of the corner into the center of the ring. Sly holds out his arms, seemingly looking for a test of strength, but Hawke catches him with a kick to the thigh, then to the other thigh, before finishing the sequence with a roundhouse kick to the face that drops him to the canvas. The Dean of Professional Wrestling drops down into the cover:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

Kickout.

 

Francis: “Another count of two. Only a minute or two into this one and four or five attempts to win the match already.”

 

King: “I don’t think you’re going to see this one end in the first five minutes, but if they keep going for the pins like they are, they will wear each other out sooner rather than later. This does not look like it is going to go very long.”

 

Jay Hawke picks Austin Sly up and body slams him to the canvas. He runs off the ropes and drops a leg across the head and neck on the rebound, then quickly goes for another cover:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

Kickout.

 

Francis: “Another count of two. Have you ever seen Hawke go for the win this early?”

 

King: “No, he normally likes taking a much more methodical approach to his matches.”

 

Jay Hawke finally decides to slow the action down just a bit, locking Austin Sly into a reverse chinlock.

 

King: “Like this. And realistically, this is probably the way he should wrestle this match. We’ve seen him go 30 or 45 minutes on a fairly consistent basis so he should be wearing Sly down and using his conditioning to his advantage.”

 

Austin Sly begins to make his way to his feet. As he stands up, Jay Hawke releases the hold, driving the point of the elbow into the back of the neck for good measure, then hooking the head and neck and bringing Sly down with another swinging neck breaker. Hawke spits on Austin Sly, then drops down into the cover:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

Kickout.

 

Francis: “That was pretty straight forward.”

 

King: “I guess we know how Jay Hawke feels about Austin Sly at this point.”

 

Jay Hawke picks up Austin Sly and goes for another body slam, but Sly kicks his legs to loosen Hawke’s grip and slides behind his back, landing on his feet. He gets in a couple of kicks to the hamstring to bring Hawke down to his knees, then levels him in the back of the head with a super kick.

 

 

“OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

Sly moves in for the cover:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

Kickout.

 

Francis: “Hawke snapped that super kick into the back of Hawke’s head, and most men would be out cold after a move like that!”

 

King: “I’m not sure that kickout was anything more than instinctive on the part of the International Champion. His eyes are becoming glazed over!”

 

Sensing victory is near, Austin Sly drops a series of elbows across Hawke’s neck and throat with rapid succession. He then picks his opponent up, only to bring him right back down to the mat with a twisting neck breaker. He immediately goes for another cover:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

Kickout.

 

Francis: “And only a count of two again! What a frantic pace these two men have utilized in this match!”

 

King: “Now is that just because they really want a victory, or is it because they want to get away from this horrible music festival as fast at they can?”

 

Now it’s Austin Sly who decides to try and slow the pace down, as he locks in a reverse chinlock and cranks back on it. Jay Hawke knows not to stay in that position for very long, so he begins to make his way to his feet. He drives a couple of elbows into Sly’s midsection, only for Austin to catch him with a knee to the gut that doubles him over. Sly then locks in a front facelock and makes his way to the corner, using the ropes as a springboard to twist around and drop the International Champion on his head.

 

 

“OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

Francis: “Tornado DDT, and Austin Sly going for the cover!”

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

Francis: “Could be the upset…”

 

 

TH -- kickout.

 

 

Francis: “But the champion kicks out. Jay Hawke is finding himself in a very physical confrontation before his big title unification match with Alan Clark!”

 

King: “And how much is this taking out of him? He doesn’t want to go into that match injured!”

 

As Jay Hawke makes his way to his feet, Austin Sly goes for a super kick, but Hawke ducks underneath it. Hawke then takes Sly down with a single-leg takedown, then locks in a leg scissors.

 

Francis: “Leg submission by Jay Hawke, and normally it’s Austin Sly who works the legs for submission holds!”

 

King: “Hawke knows that, and he also knows that Sly’s expecting submissions that work the neck and arms, so he’s keeping his opponent off-guard doing this!”

 

Austin Sly isn’t so far from the ropes that he can’t just reach for them to break the hold, but why use the ropes when you can apply some punishment? He executes three kicks: two to the back and one to the head. The kick to the head forces Hawke to relinquish the hold. Sly gets to his feet, limping slightly as he pulls Hawke to his and locks in a front facelock. Sly leaps into the air, apparently for a jumping DDT, but Hawke blocks it and drives a knee to the midsection. Hawke slips behind into a waistlock, then takes his opponent over with a picture-perfect German suplex:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

Kickout.

 

Francis: “Snapping that German suplex almost out of nowhere, and he almost got the pin!”

 

King: “This is a hell of a match we’ve got going here, Mak!”

 

Jay Hawke grabs a leg and turns Sly over, cranking back on it into a submission hold.

 

Francis: “And now Jay Hawke with a single-leg Boston crab! We’ve seen Austin Sly use this on a number of occasions!”

 

King: “I wouldn’t be surprised to see Hawke turn this into an STF if Sly gets too close to the ropes!”

 

Austin Sly takes a look at the ropes as if he wants to reach for them, but instead he rolls himself over. He tries to kick Hawke’s back to force a break, but Hawke winds up hooking the free leg instead. He goes for the full Boston crab, but Sly blocks it, so Hawke simply falls backward and catapults Austin Sly into the turnbuckle.

 

Francis: “Slingshot into the turnbuckle, and Sly staggers backwards…and right into a roll up!”

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

Kickout.

 

King: “But only two, and give both of these men credit, Mak! Both men showing tremendous resilience in this semi-main event tonight!”

 

Austin Sly slowly pulls himself to his feet. Jay Hawke moves in, catching him with a European uppercut that knocks his opponent back into the corner. Hawke then hooks in a side headlock and runs forward, driving Austin Sly into the mat with a bulldog headlock. Hawke goes for the cover:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

Kickout!

 

 

Francis: “Again only two! Where is Austin Sly getting it from?”

 

King: “It’s amazing what will happen when you’ve got the will to win, Mak!”

 

Jay Hawke is clearly beginning to get frustrated, but as Austin Sly makes his way to his feet, Hawke hooks both of Austin Sly’s arms and suplexes him over.

 

Francis: “Butterfly suplex, and Hawke into the cover again!”

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

Kickout.

 

 

Francis: “And again Sly kicks out!”

 

King: “And again, you have to be impressed with both of these men tonight! What an awesome matchup!”

 

Clearly frustrated, Jay Hawke sits on the mat with an angry look in his eyes. He wants to finish this one quickly and train for his shot at Alan Clark. As Sly gets to his feet, Jay Hawke runs into the ropes, only for Sly to take him down with a drop toehold before seemingly in one motion locking Hawke into a tight STF.

 

Francis: “Hawke hesitated for just a moment or two, and now he’s trapped in the clutches of Austin Sly and the STF!”

 

King: “It’s very unusual for Hawke to become frustrated, but he did, and it might cost him the victory right here!”

 

Hawke reaches out for the rope, but it’s slightly out of reach. As Nick Soapdish checks in on him, Hawke shakes his head no before making one more reach for the ropes, this time just barely grabbing hold of it to force the hold to be broken.

 

Francis: “The International Champion reaches the ropes, but you have to think he was only moments away from getting beat right there!”

 

King: “Chalk that one up to Hawke being a master of ring positioning, because that’s what saved him there!”

 

Francis: “But how much does he have left in the gas tank?”

 

King: “I don’t know, but he’d better have something left in the tank if he wants to unify those titles at the pay-per-view!”

 

Austin Sly pulls Hawke to his feet and locks in a front facelock. He drags Hawke to the corner and hops up, standing on the middle turnbuckle.

 

Francis: “Sly getting some elevation, possibly for another tornado DDT.”

 

Indeed, Sly does try to go for another tornado DDT, but Hawke throws him off. Sly lands on his feet and moves in, but Hawke sides steps, and Sly runs hard into the corner. Sly staggers backwards, and Hawke climbs the turnbuckle. Sly gains his bearing and charges forward, but Hawke kicks him coming in, spinning Sly around. Hawke then sits on Sly’s shoulders and falls forward, rolling Sly over onto his shoulders:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

Francis: “Victory roll!”

 

 

TWO!

 

 

Francis: “Perfectly executed!”

 

 

THREE!

 

 

DING DING DING!

 

Francis: “And he got him!”

 

King: “Tremendous move!”

 

Funyon: “Ladies and gentlemen, in 8 minutes 32 seconds, the winner of this match…JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY HAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWKE!”

 

Jay Hawke raises his arms in celebration as the crowd boos, but whichever shitty German pop band does their version of “Learning to Fly”, Jay Hawke covers his ears and runs like hell to the relatively quiet safety of the dressing room.

 

King: “That is one hell of an idea.”

 

Francis: “Well, we have to put up with it for one more match.”

 

King: “Why?”

 

Francis: “Because if we leave early, we’ve breached our contract.”

 

King: “Dammit!”

 

Francis: “Jay Hawke with a big victory, but the main event is next!”

 

Edited July 13, 2007 by Ace309

[chirs3 0]

FADE IN

 

“Welcome back to Storm,” says Mak Francis, “Where it’s time for the main event! And King, this time next week, we’ll be seeing Hollywood Spike Jenkins going one-on-one against the World Heavyweight Champion, Alan Clark, to see who will be the champion heading into Ground Zero. But tonight, they’ll be on the same side, as they team up to face the World Tag Team Champions, Wild and Dangerous, whom have signed an open contract to defend the tag titles against anybody!”

 

“Well, Wild and Dangerous have laid down a challenge to the rest of the SWF, and now it’s up to them to put their money where their mouth is,” says King. “I mean, how embarrassing would it be for them to lose their titles in their first defense after signing that open contract?”

 

“You’d have to think that a loss so soon after signing the open contract would set them back in the eyes of the championship committee,” says Mak. “And, if there are two guys in the SWF today with the skills to pull off the upset, it’s got to be Spike and Alan Clark. But the question there, King, is whether or not these two can work together long enough to achieve a common goal?”

 

“It’s definitely tough,” adds King. “Clark is going to have to put some degree of trust in a guy that wants his title, and is going to be fighting tooth and nail to try and take it from him in a week. I mean, it would be a nice feather in the cap for these two to add a tag team championship to their résumé, but they’re going to be in for a tough matchup against Wild and Dangerous, and sooner or later, both men are going to have to start looking out for their own interests. At the same time, you’ve got a pride factor going on, as well: the last time either Clark or Jenkins faced off against Wild and Dangerous in tag team competition, they came away from it with the losers’ end of the purse, so they’re may be motivated to get some payback!”

 

“It’s that looking out for their own interest part that’s going to add a measure of intrigue to this match for me,” agrees Mak. “We know that neither Spike Jenkins nor Alan Clark are particularly above double-crossing a partner, and if things get rough against Wild and Dangerous, I’d want to grow eyes in the back of my head if I were either one of these guys!”

 

“Positively!” agrees King. “I don’t think either man would mind winning the tag team titles, but if the going gets tough, you’re going to see a race to see which one can double-cross the other one first!”

 

“And with that,” shouts Mak, “let’s go to Funyon in the ring!”

 

 

*DING DING DING!!!*

 

 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” booms Funyon, “this… is the MAIN EVENT!”

 

With that, the lights begin to flicker around the arena as the violent guitar riffs and the blaring trumpets of Emmure’s “When Keeping It Real Goes Wrong” blast through the PA system.

 

RAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

 

The horrifying shriek of a laugh from lead singer Frank Palmieri sends a shiver down the spines of everyone in attendance.

 

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 and clap their hands as they await The New Straight Edge Sensation. A small, but audible “Spike…Spike…Spike” chant breaks out inside the arena.

 

This Is…

 

 

 

 

 

…The End!

 

 

With that, the crowd goes into frenzy as “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins steps out from behind the curtain, shrouded in his newly-minted black “Heartless” zip-up sweatshirt. Jenkins stomps down the ramp towards the ring.

 

"The following contest, scheduled for one fall, is for the SWF World Tag Team Championships!" booms Funyon. "Introducing the challengers: first, from Long Island, in New York City, weighing two hundred five pounds... Hollywood! SPIIIIIKE JENK-INS!" Jenkins stomps down the ramp, unzipping the sweatshirt and tossing it to the side. Climbing up the steel steps, he slowly climbs onto the ring apron. glaring into the empty ring, he steps inside. Hollywood then trains his eyes on the top of the ramp as his music fades out, and his parter for the night is about to be introduced: the lights go out, and the following echoes from the loudspeakers...

 

"Please Stand Clear of the...." the voice fades, and red, white, and gold spotlights flicker and flash around the arena slowly as "To Die For" thumps to life. The SmarkTron flashes shots of Alan Clark's steady career climb - flashing all of his various championship wins before finally showing a live shot of the stage as a spotlight hits the ramp to show Alan Clark emerging from the darkness, championship around his waist and Walter Reynolds in tow.

 

"And his tag team partner," continues Funyon, "coming towards the ring at this time...representing Germany, and being accompanied by Walter Reynolds... weighing two hundred twenty-five pounds, he is the SWF Heavyweight Champion of the World... AAAAALAN CUUUUUH-LARK!" Alan makes a slow walk to ring, stopping midway down the ramp and offering pose with some fans, but he is met with an icy reception by the Norburgring fans.

 

"I tell you what," says King, "I've never been a big fan of Alan Clark, but it's refreshing to see some new blood in the title picture, especially someone who loves being champion as much as he does!" Clark walks up the solid steel stairs and steps through the ropes. With the music at full bore, Alan heads over to a neutral corner and jumps up onto the middle turnbuckles, posing as though he is looking down on the crowd with his ever-present smirk.

 

"Absolutely," agrees Mak. "I mean, we had some new blood in Gabriel Drake, but he practically took the title as collateral damage; he wanted Toxxic, and he got Toxxic, and the Heavyweight Title just happened to be a bonus... but Clark seems to be in love with being Heavyweight Champion more than anybody I've seen in a long time!" Clark climbs back down into the ring and turns his attention towards his teammate for the night; he gives Jenkins a sarcastic grin as he removes the World Heavyweight Title from his waist, and raises the belt above his head while staring down his partner.

 

“I love the gamesmanship,” says King. “Clark reminding Spike Jenkins that he’s got what Jenkins wants!” Suddenly, Clark’s music is replaced by the up-tempo dance track that heralds the arrival of the Champions!

 

“YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!!”

 

The fans at Rock Am Ring cheer loudly as Uncle L and Busta Rhymes’ “Starsky and Hutch” pumps through the speakers! Wild and Dangerous break out from the backstage area and suddenly start racing towards the ring at breakneck speed! The both enter the ring simultaneously, with Johnny sliding underneath the ropes, and WC somersaulting beneath the bottom and middle ropes; both men somersault to their feet simultaneously and turn to face their challengers.

 

“Their opponents,” booms Funyon, “at a total combined weight of four hundred thirty-nine pounds, here are the reigning… AND DEFENDING… SWF World Tag Team Champions: WILD! AAAAAND DAAAAANGEROUS!” Johnny and WC glare at their opponents, as if warning them not to try any funny business, and then each head over to a corner of the ring, where they scale the turnbuckles to face the crowd. They hop down into the center of the ring and surrender the title belts to Herrington, who holds them aloft to display to the crowd as “Starsky and Hutch” fades out. Spike, anxious to get some ring action, steps into the ring to start against Wildchild. Red Herrington motions to the timekeeper to ring the bell, signifying the start of the match:

 

 

*DING DING DING!!!*

 

 

“Bell’s gone,” shouts Mak, “and we’re underway!” Spike and Wildchild lock up in the center of the ring, and Hollywood easily takes control, shoving the Tropical Tumbler backwards and sending him rolling halfway across the ring. As WC looks up at his opponent, Jenkins holds his hand high overhead, inviting the Bahaman to engage him in a Greco-Roman knuckle lock.

 

“Spike challenging Wildchild to a test of strength!” says a bemused King. “And, as dumb as I tend to think that Wildchild is, he can’t possibly be stupid enough to think that he can out-power Jenkins!” Spike and WC lock up into a knuckle-lock, and Jenkins easily powers his opponent down to his knees… but the Human Hurricane somersaults backwards, rolling to reverse the pressure, and turns the tables on Hollywood!

 

“YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!!”

 

“Maybe not, King,” answers Mak, “but he can outsmart him!” WC stuns Spike with repeated boots to the midsection, eventually causing him to release the knuckle-lock with his right hand, but WC maintains control of the left; Wildchild plants a series of boots to the midsection, and then shifts into a standing arm wringer before rushing over towards the ropes, leaping onto the top rope (while still having the arm-wringer applied), and springing back into the ring with a scintillating springboard armdrag! Spike quickly gets to his feet and charges towards Wildchild, who takes him over with his patented Freefall monkey flip! This time, Wildchild beats Spike to his feet, and rushes over to him, leaping into the air to land on his shoulders, and then locking his ankles behind Hollywood’s head as he arches back, taking Jenkins over with a rana!

 

“Spike thought he was going to be able to take advantage of his speed,” says Mak, “but Wildchild turned the speed up to ten, and suddenly Spike didn’t know whether he was coming or going!” WC pulls Jenkins over to his corner and makes the tag to the Barracuda; the Champions combine to whip Spike across the ring, and catch him as he bounces off the ropes with a double-hiptoss! Johnny pulls Spike to his feet and whips him across the ring into a neutral corner, but Jenkins dives out of the way to avoid a charging Barracuda! Spike rolls over to his corner and makes the tag to Alan Clark. The Heavyweight Champion steps into the ring and makes his way over to Dangerous, but Johnny surprises him with an armdrag takeover! Johnny traps Clark in a front facelock and drags him over towards his corner where he tags Wildchild back in. Johnny grabs Clark by the wrist and whips him across the ring, as WC steps between the ropes; the Barracuda bellies out against the canvas and allows Clark to run over the top of him…

 

 

*WHAM!*

 

 

… Right into a standing dropkick from the Wildchild! WC scurries over to Clark and applies a cover:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

Clark easily kicks out at one! Wildchild pulls Alan to his feet and quickly tags Johnny back in; they both whip Clark across the ring and knock him down as he rebounds with a double-dropkick!

 

“The tag team champs are going to work on the World Heavyweight Champion,” says Mak, as Johnny leads Alan over towards the neutral corner. “And look at Jenkins across the ring; is it my imagination, King, or is Spike Jenkins smiling?”

 

“I believe you’re right,” remarks King, as Johnny smashes Clark’s face into the top of the turnbuckle. “Although, I can hardly blame him; any punishment that Wild and Dangerous inflicts on Clark only increases Spike’s chances of becoming World Heavyweight Champion!”

 

Johnny leads Alan over towards his corner and once again smashes Clark’s face into the top turnbuckle; he makes the tag to Wildchild and then hangs Alan’s upper body over the top rope as he reaches down to grab his legs.

 

“YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!!”

 

“Here we go!” shouts Mak, as WC takes off across the ring. “Haven’t seen this move in a while!”

 

The Bahama Bomber runs towards Johnny and leaps over his partner’s shoulders to come crashing down onto Clark’s back with a Slam Dance! Wildchild grabs Alan by the waist and pulls him backwards into a rolling cradle:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

Clark kicks out at two! WC pulls Alan to his feet and grabs him by the wrist, whipping him across the ring, but Clark reverses and plants a boot into his midsection before trapping him in a front-facelock…

 

 

*BANG!*

 

 

… And driving him face-first into the canvas with the Cutting in Line!

 

 

“Cutting in Line!” shouts Mak, as Clark rolls atop Wildchild. “This could do it!” Herrington drops down to count:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

Wildchild kicks out at two! Clark gets to his feet and stumbles over to his corner; he slaps Spike Jenkins derisively on the chest and thumbs backwards over his shoulder, as if to say, “get your ass in there!”

 

The two exchange a heated glance as Spike steps into the ring and passes Clark. Alan makes a rather derogatory gesture towards Spike, but only does so once Jenkins’ back is turned and he pulls WC up to his feet.

 

“I’m starting to wonder how well this is going to work out,” sighs Mak.

 

“Oh, like you thought they’d be a compatible team to begin with.”

 

Spike backs Wildchild into the ropes and then…

 

*SMACK!* “WHOOOOOOOOO!”

*SMACK!* “WHOOOOOOOOO!”

 

…cuts into WC’s chest with a few knife-edged chops, lighting up the Bahaman’s chest! He grabs WC and whips him across the ring, but the Bahaman grabs hold of the ropes to keep him from bouncing back towards Jenkins, and then suddenly bolts towards Spike for a leg lariat…

 

*WHOOSH!*

 

…but Spike ducks down to avoid the blast! WC slams on the breaks and then quickly spins around, turning directly into a drop kick! Spike drops down, covering him for:

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

Wildchild kicks out at two! Spike grabs Wildchild in a front face lock and then stands him up, but stops as Clark calls out to him for a tag. Spike just stares with a raised brow before finally waving Alan off. He obviously has no need for Clark’s assistance, but as he turns to put his back to Alan he unintentionally moves a tad too close to the corner and Alan easily leans over the rope and tags Spike on the back. Jenkins immediately lets Wildchild go and turns around, completely taken back by Clark’s actions, and when Alan steps into the ring the two exchange more than a few heated words!

 

“This isn’t going to get them anywhere in this match,” says Mak. “These two need to learn a thing or two about teamwork.”

 

“Possibly three,” King adds in. With the distraction, neither Alan nor Spike notice WC crawling away to his corner. He tags in Johnny and the Barracuda leaps into the ring!

 

“They’d better watch out!” shouts Mak, but Alan doesn’t realize anything is wrong until the sound of the Barracuda’s clubbed hand striking Clark’s spine rings out! Spike steps out of the ring, smiling and Johnny grabs around the World Champion from behind and arches back, sending Clark overhead with a German suplex!

 

*WHAM!*[/b}

 

Johnny stands and then takes off for the ropes, hits them, and them comes charging back, just as Alan painfully stands back up. Clark looks up and watches like a deer in the headlights as Johnny charges and blasts him with a lariat! Alan is down on his back and Johnny stands back up, backpedals into the ropes and bounces off them to drop a knee into Clark with a little added momentum before covering for:

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

But Alan kicks out at two!

 

“Thanks to a lack of teamwork, Alan and Spike are quickly losing this match,” comments Mak.

 

Johnny heads to the corner and tags his partner then strolls back towards Clark, “-and just where in the heck does he think he’s going?” King vehemently questions. “When you tag out you step to the apron not head back into the ring!”

 

“Legally, you have five seconds,” Francis calmly informs the Gambling Man, as Johnny pulls Alan up to his feet and then plants the World Champion back down into the canvas with a scoop slam! When WC pulls up to the scene, Johnny spins around and grabs the Caribbean Cruiserweight by the arm then steps forward, sending his own partner across the ring with an Irish whip! Wildchild hits the ropes and rockets back towards the Barracuda as Johnny ducks down, snatching the Bahama Bomber off his feet before lifting up and sending him high over head with a back body drop-

 

*WHAM!*

 

-and WC crashes across Clark’s exposed chest with an assisted senton splash, and he does so to a thunderous cheer!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!!”

 

WC skids a good foot across the mat after hitting the move, and after a moment he scrambles back over the World Champion, hooking his leg and rolling back on it to firmly plant Alan’s shoulders to the mat for:

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

TH-NO!!!

 

“Alan kicks out under his own steam, but without much authority,” says Mak. “He’s going to have to make a tag soon – like it or not!”

 

“I’m absolutely sure he would if Wild and Dangerous would stop cheating all the damn time!” King barks in response.

 

Alan is pulled to his feet by Wildchild, and then backed into a neutral corner before WC takes the World Champion by his arm and whips him across the ring, towards the opposite corner…

 

“No! Clark digs his heels in and reverses the Irish whip, sending Wildchild for the ride instead,” Mak reports, and then Wildchild crunches into the steel post with a sickening thud! Clark charges the corner but WC quickly kicks both feet up and nails the World Champion in the face to hopefully end Alan’s comeback attempt. Alan turns away from the corner and staggers a few steps away from it while holding his face with both hands, before finally dropping to his knees and collapsing to his side. Watching from the corner, Spike can only shake his head in dismay after watching his partner’s futile attempts.

 

“Well, you can’t fault him for trying,” says King. Wildchild backs himself up the turnbuckle, which gets the crowd stirred, and after reaching the top he quickly leaps off, extending his elbow out as he plummets towards the World Champion and-

 

*WHAM!*

 

“Nobody home!” shouts Mak. “Wildchild tried for an elbow drop but Clark moved out of the way just in time to avoid it!”

 

Seeing that his chance has finally come, Clark pushes up to his knees and then crawls towards his corner, leaving Wildchild to gingerly grasp at his elbow alone as he heads for Jenkins. Spike pounds the turnbuckle padding, trying to hurry Clark along, and he hollers for him to come on while extending his arm out as far as he possibly can. Meanwhile, Johnny frantically tries to get his partner to come tag him in but WC seems too preoccupied with working the kink out of his arm to notice, and Alan makes his way to Spike for the tag!

 

“YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!!”

 

“Here comes Jenkins!” exclaims Mak, as Spike hurriedly steps through the ropes to a booming cheer from the crowd. Spike rushes towards WC and blasts him from behind with a solid lariat, knocking him to the canvas then spins around and socks the Barracuda right in the kisser! Immediately some boos ring out for this act, but Jenkins just turns away from the corner and heads back for Wildchild, stalking towards him like a raging lunatic! WC quickly rolls onto his back and kicks his leg out to fend off Spike, but Jenkins catches his foot in both hands! Spike looks down at the Bahama Bomber and sees the look of panic on WC’s face, which causes a faint smile to crawl up the side of his lip…

 

*CRACK!*

*CRACK!*

 

… and he doesn’t have a chance to react this time as WC quickly kicks his free leg out, and plants his foot into Spike’s chest three times! Spike stumbles back after releasing Wildchild’s foot, momentarily stunned from the surprising kicks and WC quickly tumbles forward then springs off the canvas, tackling Spike down in the ring!

 

“YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!!”

 

“Spike took to long to mull over that one and gave Wildchild an opportunity,” says Mak. “He can’t give Wildchild even a second to breathe!”

 

WC mounts himself over Spike and starts battering him with punch after punch, forcing Herrington to step in and begin a count to stop it…

 

…but Wildchild won’t push him into counting. WC quickly rolls up to his feet and Spike follows pursuit, all though he’s not as quick as the Bahama Bomber right this second, feeling a little woozy after Wildchild’s assault. WC grabs Jenkins by his arm and steps forward to send him to the ropes with an Irish whip. Spike hits the ropes and rebounds, but WC leapfrogs over him and Jenkins continues to the opposite end of the ring, rebounding off the ropes once more…

 

*CRACK!*

 

…before Wildchild executes a back-flip kick that catches Spike right in the chin!

 

“Oh! An impressive maneuver by the Wildchild,” marvels Francis, as Jenkins shudders to the mat. WC quickly dives in and applies a lateral press for:

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

TH-NO!

 

“Spike kicks out and it’s a good thing he did; it didn’t look like Alan was even going to attempt to make the save,” comments Mak.

 

“He’s still trying to gather his bearings over there,” King defensively replies. “Besides, he should be able to trust that Spike can go for two minutes without getting himself pinned.”

 

WC quickly pops up to his feet. Spike moves to an upright position as well, but is obviously a little slower than his opponent in doing so and is easily taken into a hammerlock by Wildchild. WC marches Jenkins straight to the Wild and Dangerous corner and tags Dangerous into the match.

 

“Now the Barracuda is in and it looks like the teamwork of Wild and Dangerous is going to keep their momentum building,” notes Mak.

 

WC holds Spike in a compromising position as Johnny steps into the ring and kicks his foot into Spike’s gut, keeping Jenkins subdued for just a little longer. Johnny Ducks down and pulls the New Straight-Edged Sensation onto his shoulders, which gets the crowd going in anticipation of the Spinal Explosion!

 

“Let’s see if this clown learned from last week,” King says, “Johnny’s pandering to the crowd before hitting this exact move on Toxxic last week gave Stephens the chance to escape.”

 

Unfortunately, for Spike, Johnny doesn’t hesitate this week before launching himself into a forward flip, and drilling Jenkins’ back into the mat with the Spinal Explosion!

 

“YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!!”

 

Johnny comes to a halt in a seated position and he simply leans back to cover his opponent, though he hooks Spike’s leg as an added measure as Herrington counts for for:

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

TH-NO! Jenkins pulls a shoulder off the canvas just before three! Johnny grabs Spike by the sides of his head and drags him to his feet, but Jenkins refuses to give the barracuda another opportunity against him and he slaps Dangerous’ hands away from his face and suddenly-

 

*CRACK!*

 

-slams his fist into Johnny’s face! The Barracuda stumbles back and Jenkins steps forward, swinging his fist out again…

 

“Jenkins is fighting back!” exclaims Francis. “He’s not going to hand the match over to Wild and Dangerous this easily!”

 

…but this time Johnny brings his forearm up to block the shot and then fires back with a hit of his own!

 

*CRACK!*

 

“OOOH!” the crowd winces at the hit. It catches Spike right in the jaw and sends him stumbling sideways and into the ropes! Johnny grabs Jenkins and whips him to the opposite end of the ring and as Spike rebounds off the ropes, heading back towards Johnny, he ducks down to take Jenkins overhead with a back body drop… but Spike suddenly slams on the breaks directly in front of Johnny and franticly grabs around the Barracuda’s head-

 

*CRUNCH*-*WHAM!*

 

-and takes him down with the Sobering Thought!

 

“YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!!”

 

“Sobering Thought! That’s straight out of the playbook of Michael Stephens!” shouts Mak. “Spike is pulling out all the stops for tonight and he might have it right here!”

 

Spike quickly drops down and covers Dangerous, and Herrington is there to count for:

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

TH- *WHAM!*

 

Wildchild kicks Jenkins off his partner to save the match and chases after the retreating Jenkins with stomps until the referee steps in the way, ordering WC to leave the ring.

 

“If Spike can get the tag to Clark they just might be able to capitalize!”

 

As Wildchild departs Spike heads towards Alan…

 

… he arrives at their corner…

 

… reaches out…

 

…but that’s when Clark pulls his hand away and drops down to the outside floor!

 

“What the hell!?”

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”

 

The crowd gives Alan the what for as Spike stares in disbelief!

 

“That spineless, no good son of a bitch!” shouts Francis. “He’s double crossing Spike – we predicted this happening but why would Clark do this when they actually have a shot of winning!? Why!?”

 

“He doesn’t want to be any part of a tag team with Spike and winning the titles would just force him to team up with Spike again,” explains King. “That and Spike needs to learn a lesson about trying to challenge someone he has no business challenging!”

 

Enraged, Spike shouts lividly at Clark but Alan simply waves him off and heads around the ring with Walter in tow. Spike watches, still shouting as Alan heads to the walkway, and not even thinking about his opponent in the ring. Johnny stalks in from behind Spike, grabs him by the arm and spins Jenkins around…

 

*CRACK!*

 

…and nails him in the face, right between the eyes with a Shotei palmstrike! Spike is rocked on his heels and two more palmstrikes send him reeling! Johnny chases after Spike, punishing him with more strikes…

 

*CRACK!*

 

“Now Spike will have to face Wild and Dangerous alone,” says Mak. “Already this isn’t looking good for him.”

 

*SMACK!*

 

When Alan reaches the stage he stops and turns around, watching as the Barracuda pounds Jenkins from one side of the ring to the other.

 

*CRACK!*

 

“This is exactly what he wants to see happen to Spike,” says King. “When Wild and Dangerous get done with Spike he won’t be able to put up a fight against Alan next week!”

 

“Such a cowardly move,” Mak hisses, as Dangerous finally drops Spike with a leaping side kick. “I hope Alan rots in hell!”

 

Johnny pulls Spike up and boots him in the gut, forcing the wind from Jenkins’ lungs and doubling the World Champion hopeful over. The crowd moves to the edges of their seats as Dangerous pulls Spike into a standing head-scissors and the lifts him off the mat and onto his shoulders as Wildchild ascends the turnbuckle in preparation!

 

“They’re going for the Dangerous Drop!” shouts Francis trying to focus on calling the match as best as he can, but Spike isn’t as stunned as Dangerous believed and Jenkins frantically starts slamming his fist into the Barracuda’s dome!

 

“Not just yet!” Suicide King returns. “The Heartless Kid has some fight left in him!”

 

Spike’s shots stun the Barracuda just enough and Jenkins quickly hooks Johnny’s shoulders with his legs and flips over-

 

“YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!!”

 

“He’s got him!” shouts Mak, as Alan Clark watches from the stage – his eyes wide with shock and his mouth gaping wide open. “This isn’t what Alan had planned on seeing!”

 

-and Spike flips the secret agent over onto his shoulders with a surprising victory roll! Jenkins reaches back and hooks both of Johnny’s legs, holding him in place as Herrington dives in and counts for:

 

 

ONE!!!

 

 

 

TWO!!!

 

 

 

THHHRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NOOOOOOO!!!!! Wildchild kicks Jenkins off of his partner and not a moment too soon!

 

“Wildchild comes in and saves his partner by the skin of his teeth!” Mak shouts as Alan smiles in relief. “If Wildchild hadn’t made that move, Spike Jenkins would have single handedly defeated Wild and Dangerous for the titles!”

 

“I highly doubt they would have ever shown their faces in public again if that happened,” King adds in, and then ponders momentarily before continuing: “Damn; That might have been a good thing.”

 

Herrington quickly pops up to his feet, barking at the Bahaman to exit to the apron before WC can pounce onto Spike. WC complies with the referee as not to tie up his attention and give Jenkins an opportunity to take advantage of, leaving Jenkins to do nothing more than to become fuming mad!

 

Spike shoves off the canvas and stands back up; the obvious pain he’s in shows as he rises to his feet, but he refuses to give up, even though he is now outnumbered by the Tag Team Champions. Spike stalks towards the Barracuda, who dazedly stands, and with an aggressive howl-

 

*WHAM!*

 

-Jenkins smashes his knuckles into Johnny’s mouth, rocking the secret agent’s head on his shoulders! Spike launches two more punches into the Barracuda before stepping back… and then coming back in with a tremendous European uppercut!

 

*CRACK!*

 

Dangerous is floored from the hit and the only thing that stops Spike from jumping on top of Johnny and pounding him into the canvas is Wildchild hollering at him from the apron. Spike pivots and spins around—his eyes wide with madness—and marches right up to the Bahama Bomber…

 

*CRACK!*

 

…and blasts Wildchild without any regard, knocking him to the floor!

 

“Now he’s taking the fight to both of them,” says King. “He’s desperately trying to prove that he doesn’t need any help to win this match!”

 

Spike swivels his head around and sees the Barracuda getting back up, so he rushes back towards Johnny and catches him with another punch that knocks him right back down to the mat, stirring up the crowd some more!

 

“Jenkins is starting to build some steam here,” comments Mak. “Maybe he really doesn’t need Alan’s help!”

 

Alan sees Jenkins’ momentum building and he starts looking on worriedly, even more so when Spike again bolts for the Wild and Dangerous corner as WC gets back up and blast the Bahaman again!

 

“Oh!” King winces at the hit, and again WC is knocked down from the apron.

 

Jenkins bolts for Johnny once again, and knocks him down with a third hit, and then races back for Wildchild as he climbs to the apron once more! Spike swings but Wildchild ducks this time and then rams his shoulder through the ropes, into Spike’s abdomen, and then WC reaches up to grab Jenkins by the head before dropping to the floor-

 

“OH NO!”

 

-and forces Spike’s throat across the top rope!

 

“Wildchild caught him with a hangman!” exclaims King, and Jenkins stumbles backwards, clutching his neck with both hands and gagging uncontrollably as Johnny gets back to his feet and comes in from behind Jenkins.

 

“He’s going for –” exclaims Mak, and Johnny lifts Spike off the mat, looking for the MI Slam!

 

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEM-IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-”

 

*-SLAM!!*

 

Johnny reaches back and hooks Jenkins’ leg, and rolls back on it to firmly pin his opponent’s shoulders to the mat. Herrington drops down and counts as the crowd excitedly counts with him for:

 

 

 

ONE!!!

 

 

 

TWO!!!

 

 

 

 

THHHRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!

 

*DING DING DING!!!*

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!!!”

 

Wildchild rushes the ring to help his partner to his feet; even though Johnny might have been able to execute the MI Slam successfully he’s still a bit dazed from Spike’s attack.

 

“The winners of this match by pinfall,” Funyon booms, “and as a result… STILL THE SWF… WORLD… TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS… WILD! AAAAAAAAAND DANGEROOUUUS!”

 

Herrington hands the tag titles back to Wildchild and Johnny, then grabs their arms to raise them in victory as Alan watches from the stage.

 

“Wild and Dangerous we’re successful once again,” comments Mak, “but you have to wonder how things would have turned out had Alan not walked out on Spike. He showed his true colors with that move and he’d better hope it doesn’t give Spike enough fuel to take him down next week.”

 

“I highly doubt that,” scoffs King. “Alan just showed Spike that he has no chance. The beating he took from Wild and Dangerous will be nothing compared to the one he receives from Clark. Spike will be given no quarter, and the results of that match will be exactly the same as this match.”

 

Johnny and Wildchild both reach down to try and help Spike back up to his feet, showing him they harbor no feelings against him, but he only shoves them away. As he painfully pushes up to his knees under his own steam, he weakly gazes at the World Champion. Alan stands on the stage smiling and then winks at Jenkins before patting his bodyguard on the chest and motioning for them to head out. Spike keeps his eyes fixed on the World Champion until he disappears behind the curtains and then he pounds his fist into the mat and stands up…

 

 

 

As we:

FADE OUT.