chirs3 0 Report post Posted September 7, 2007 RING! RING! RING! Sir Marvelous flips open his cell phone. “You got Anderson.” “…” “Well,” Marvelous drawls with a sinister grin, “if it isn’t my favorite ex-client! How can I help you, Mister LeCroix?” “…” “You want to do what?” “…” “Why sure, Dominic,” replies Anderson, “I’ll be happy to represent you interests in this matter… but it’s going to cost you.” “…” “Well, I’ve been looking to enhance Mister Bruner’s visibility within the fed,” says Marvelous. “You know, a few high profile opponents, maybe a title shot…” “…” “Don’t you worry about that, young man,” says Anderson. “Just let me do what I do best; I’ll call you with the good news.” With that, he turns to look at his bodyguard and smiles. “I told you this was going to be a good day.” *** TEN MINUTES LATER *** “He wants to do what?” asks an incredulous Tom Flesher. “I said that he wants to…” “No, no,” interrupts Flesher wearily, “I heard you the first time… But why?” “My client feels that he should be allowed to compete with his shin guards on,” explains Anderson, “and he cites several examples of previous wrestlers that have competed with shin guards on.” “Yeah,” replies Flesher, “but none of those guys used their legs as much as Wildchild does… I really don’t think it’s a good idea to allow him to wrestle with those things on.” “Mister Flesher, I’d like for you to reconsider,” says Anderson. “You’ve got too much on your plate to worry about something like this.” Tom rolls his eyes. “Like what?” “Oh, I don’t know… Genesis, perhaps?” Flesher’s eyes narrow. “What the hell are you getting at, Anderson?” “Well, as you know, as a result of the actions of your little English terrorist, Toxxic, my client suffered a Grade-2 concussion at the last pay-per-view, and has been at home convalescing since then,” says Anderson slyly. “I may want to advise my client to continue to convalesce until after Genesis… you know, for health reasons… And I’d hate to think of how hard it will be to promote your biggest show of the year without your number two face being there.” “Okay, let’s get one thing straight, you little worm,” snarls Tom. “I don’t respond well to extortion. You really don’t want to get on my bad side.” “Why, Mister Flesher,” says Marvelous appeasingly, “I would never presume to do such a thing; I’m just doing my part to help ensure that you’re able to put on the best show possible here at Genesis.” “Yeah right,” replies Flesher. “I’ll think it over, alright… I’ll be in touch.” As soon as Flesher hears Anderson hangs up, he throws his phone across the room. “SON OF A BITCH!” Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
chirs3 0 Report post Posted September 7, 2007 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation presents... SWF STOOOOORM! Live, Thursday, September 6th, from the New Orleans Arena in New Orleans, Looooweeezeiana! (7pm PST, 10pm EST; check local listings) (Send all promos/marked matches to chirs3) -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- THE MAIN EVENT - SWF WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH Alan Clark vs. Johnny Dangerous --> I could go on and on about the history between these two, but the fact of the matter is something slightly larger is at stake this time around. There's pride, and yes, there's even the World Title, but even then, there's something arguably greater than that: The winner of this match is Main Eventing Genesis. May the best man win. One exceptionally talented rookie and one incredibly determined vet do battle for the right to face our World Champion in one week's time! Rules: Singles. -=-=-=- SWF TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH Revolution Zero (Toxxic and Austin Sly) vs. The Winston Churchill Experience (Jimmy the Doom and Fulminatus) --> The members of Revolution Zero have taken so much from the fed - the Cruiserweight Title, the Tag Team Titles, the Stables Titles, even the joy of Christmas. Tonight, whether through charity or fine print in the contract, they've decided (or been compelled) to give back to the fed, in the form of a shot at their tag team gold! Winston Churchillmon` - I choose you! Rules: Standard tag. -=-=-=- SINGLES MATCH The Fabulous Jakey vs. "The Dean of Professional Wrestling" Jay Hawke --> Must not say Big Battel... must not say Big Battel... Rules: Singles. -=-=-=- Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
chirs3 0 Report post Posted September 7, 2007 FIVE… FOUR… THREE… TWO… ONE… *BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BANG! BANG! BUH-BUH-BUH-BOOOM!* “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “Welcome to SWF Storm, coming to you from New Orleans, Louisiana!” Mak Francis hollers above the crowd noise, “it’s Thursday night and we have not just a Tag Title match but a World Heavyweight Title match tonight!” “The outcome of one is predictable, the outcome of the other unimportant,” King sighs. “There’s no way Revolution Zero are walking out of here without the Tag Titles, and really, out of Dangerous and Clark… well, Clark’s probably the lesser of two evils,” he concludes, “but that’s a hell of a thing to say.” “Be that as it may,” Francis says with long-suffering patience, “first up tonight we have-” Every light in the arena hits full. The Smarktron whites out. “…ah, shit.” “COME AND HAVE A GO IF YOU THINK YER ‘ARD ENOUGH!” “COME AND HAVE A GO IF YOU THINK YER ‘ARD ENOUGH!” The rolling bassline of ‘The Gush’ by Raging Speedhorns starts to ooze out of the speakers, and the Smarktron quickly fades down to black. As it does so jagged white letters flash up a familiar slogan, one word at a time: ‘PREPARE TO BE PROVED WRONG…’ The chords rings out; the Smarktron shows Toxxic get knocked from the top rope to the floor by a Nathaniel Kibagami springboard enzuigiri… get taken from the top rope to the mat with a Super Mark Of The Beast by Gabriel Drake… get chokeslammed out of the Clusterfuck by Janus… then it changes to show him taking Mike Van Siclen off a balcony and through a table with the Stephens Shock Syndrome, the shot starting to strobe and intercut with a picture of his own grinning face, the devastating landing timed to coincide with the- *BOOOM!* -stagewide explosion of red pyro that announces the arrival of the SWF’s premier straight-edger just as the main riff kicks in! And through the flame and smoke… “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” …Stables Title in one hand… “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” …Tag Belt fasted over the red England away shirt in honour of his country’s upcoming European Championship qualifiers which they’d better bloody win… “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” …come the leader of the Revolution. “Ladies and gentlemen, making his way to the ring at this time,” Funyon booms, “he is one-half of the SWF Tag Team Champions and the leader of SWF Stable Champions Revolution Zero; he is the ‘Straight-Edge Sensation’… TOXXXXXXXXXXXX-IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIC!!” “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Toxxic rolls into the ring, comes up to his feet and beckons to Funyon for the microphone. The veteran ring announcer hands it over, then departs at the gesture of a black-nailed thumb. “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “OK, it seems to me that we have a small problem,” Toxxic says. “Yeah, you’re in the ring and you have a microphone,” Mak snipes uncharitably. “You see people, a couple of weeks ago I came out here and I threw down a challenge,” Toxxic says, unaware of the Franchise’s comment, “a challenge to be in the biggest main event of the greatest show in the history of this company. A main event that would rock the world, potentially redefine the state of the company, and save us all from having to watch some two-bit World Title match between a couple of jackmonkeys. A challenge to compete in WarGames.” “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “I was very clear,” Toxxic continues, “I stated that we just needed five men or women to step up and sign up, and we’d be ready to rumble. Anyone from the company, at all. I have to say,” the straight-edger remarks, “my reputation being what it is, I was anticipating a good response. Now, after that I came out to this very ring and beat the tar out of Jay Hawke, simply for the hell of it…” “I think you’ll find it was closer than that!” Mak snaps. “You’re right, but don’t interrupt,” King chides him. “…and last week, myself and my companions took the Stables titles from Chris Raynor.” “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “Yes,” Toxxic confirms, raising his voice above the din, “we beat him down, pinned him in about three seconds of actual competition and in doing so pissed over the last vestiges of the Midnight Carnival and their legacy, a stable apparently dear to the hearts of so many of you. And after all that, I haven’t had a name signed on that contract, I haven’t had a challenge, hell,” the Englishman laughs in disbelief, “I haven’t so much as received an abusive text message!” “WHAT’S YOUR NUM-BER?” “WHAT’S YOUR NUM-BER?” “Cute,” Toxxic grins at the crowd, “but here’s the point that you rednecks need to be considering; after all we’ve said and done not one person wanted to step up against us, from which I can only draw two conclusions. A) everyone in the company actually really likes us and don’t have a problem with anything we’re doing, or B) everyone in the company is a complete wuss and no-one’s got the balls to stand up to us.” “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “Take your pick,” Toxxic shrugs, “but when it comes down to it the end result is the same. I’ve got no takers for WarGames, and I’m not going to sit around and twiddle my thumbs on the biggest Pay-Per-View event in history. “Sorry folks, but WarGames is off.” “…BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “It’s off!?” Mak Francis exclaims in disbelief, “that’s… surely not!” “Well, do you want to step up?” King asks. “If no-one’s brave enough to get into the ring with Toxxic, Sly and Jakey then there can’t be a match, can there?” “But that’s not the problem,” Toxxic says, having let the boos die down a little, “the problem is that now my plan to actually give Genesis some self-esteem has gone the way of Karl Rove, we’re left with the unpalatable prospect of Genesis being main-evented by Alan Clark. Now I’ll admit I was hoping that the mid-term shot might relieve us of that inconvenience… but instead, it just gave us the alternative of Johnny Dangerous,” the Englishman finishes with a sigh. “YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “JOHN-NY!” “JOHN-NY!” “Folks, barring a sudden suspension or an extremely fortuitous meteor strike, one way or the other Alan Clark or Johnny Dangerous will be wrestling for the World Title at Genesis VIII,” Toxxic says sadly. “I don’t like it anymore than you do, but what can I do?” A familiar lopsided grin appears on his face. “…well, what I can do is make sure that at least one person in that match is worthy of being there.” “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “Ah hell,” Mak says, being as quick on the uptake as the crowd, “here we go. I knew it’d come down to this in the end!” “The SWF has not seen me in a World Title match since December last year,” Toxxic states, “I haven’t even put myself in a position to get a World Title match since Clusterfuck! But desperate times call for desperate measures, so to give all of you a main event worth watching,” he continues, whirling around and jabbing a black-nailed finger at the crowd, “to give you a chance to see me compete and win in my third World Title match at Genesis, to give you the chance to see the first-ever five-time World Champion crowned…” he slows for a second, and the grin widens. “…and, depending on the outcome of tonight’s main event, to give thoroughly embarrass Johnny Dangerous on the biggest show of the year for the second time in his life… yes, I’m throwing my name into the hat again.” “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “Because you see,” Toxxic declares, “I just beat Jay Hawke, again. And I’ve beaten Spike Jenkins more times than I care to remember, and Johnny Dangerous has basically taken over from Dace Night-” “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “-as my personal bitch.” “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “Clark? Now Clark I’ll admit, we’re even,” Toxxic concedes, “but the important thing to remember is that unlike earlier this year sunshine, if we meet at Genesis you’ve got something I actually want, so if you try some fancy-schmancy submission again I’ll rip yer arms out their bloody sockets mate. In fact the only person whom I cannot claim to have regularly humiliated is Michael Alexander,” the Englishman concludes. “You seem like a pretty decent wrestler… if a little full of yourself…” “I can’t believe he can say that with a straight face,” Mak grunts, “shouldn’t he drown in that much irony?” “…but if you honestly believe that the fact you can use long words will help you beat me, go talk to Scott Pretzler,” Toxxic advises. “End of the day people, you’ve got a bunch of jumped-up journeymen hanging around the World Title like the DEA around Paris Hilton, and thinking that just because there’s nobody better around it makes them good. “Well, uh-uh.” “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “Time’s up, boys,” Toxxic grins easily, “I’m afraid that party is most definitely over. Alan, Johnny; sort it out amongst yourselves tonight. Take that title belt home, coo over the nameplate, shine it up real nice and put it on your mantlepiece because I don’t care which one of you buggers wins, you’ve only got until Genesis to enjoy it, and if you think you’ve got a hope of walking out of there with that belt around your waist…” Toxxic pauses for a moment to take a deep and gleeful breath. “…PREPARE TO BE PROVED WRONG!” “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” And as the crowd noise rises around him Toxxic drops the microphone to the mat and rolls out under the bottom rope, heading up the entrance ramp towards the back. FADE OUT Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
chirs3 0 Report post Posted September 7, 2007 Jakeykins vs. Hawkeypoo TBEI. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
chirs3 0 Report post Posted September 7, 2007 "Explain this." Holed up in his office, Tom Flesher looks up from his copy of Cigar Aficionado, and just now notices that a large angry man is standing in front of his desk, holding up a copy of tonight's card. "Revolution Zero assaults me three on one before our match and steals the Stables Title, and a week later you're giving Winston Churchill a tag title shot?!" "Well, I figured it was too soon for another match with Wild and Dangerous, and Winsto-... no, I'm not calling them that... Jimmy and Fulminatus have-" "They STOLE my title, Tom! I want a rematch!" "Oh. Oh! That's great!" Tom crows. "We've been needing another stable around here! Who've you got with you?" "..." "Oh, that's right, you're still pursuing your spectacularly lukewarm singles career. Too bad." "You... you're not serious... you made me defend them without being in a stable, and now you're saying-" "You were the only active person on the roster holding the belt, which means you were eligible - required, I'd say - to defend it. Now that you no longer hold it, you can't compete for it solo. It's just that simple." Tom's expression conveys that yes, it really is that simple, as he meanders over to his minibar. Raynor's expression is a bit more bugeyed and wierd. "Did you even see what happened out there?!" "No," Flesher replies, pouring himself the now ritualistic arguing with pissed off employee drink, "not at all. An intern described it, though, sounded pretty brutal. Of course I saw it - you think I don't watch the shows?" "Then give me a shot to get my title back! For God's sake, at least give me a chance to put that punk Toxxic in his place!" "One - not your title. Two - my money's on Toxxic. And three - as far as I'm concerned, this business between you and Revolution Zero began and ended last show. It's done." "The hell it is. I am not finished with them yet." "Yes you are." Raynor tries to protest, but can't come up with anything Tom wouldn't slap down anyway, and is left to just stew for a moment. "Then if I can't get them in the ring, I-" "Stop right there, Raynor. You are not about to pull that bullshit on my watch, especially this close to Genesis. I need my champions, but I don't need you.” Tom kills his drink and drifts around the desk, now standing face to face with his disgruntled employee. "Let me make it very clear for you, Chris: they won, you lost, and as it stands right now, you are not in a position to challenge any of them again. Even if you were setting the ring on fire right now - which you're not, if you haven't been checking your win/loss lately - even if you were, you're not eligible for any of the belts they hold. You're over 230, you're not in a stable, and you don't have a partner, so..." *knock knock* The door swings open without warning (you know, besides the knocking) and in breezes Landon Maddix. "Oh, God, why!?" Tom despairs, looking up at his ceiling which in turn makes a curious Landon do the same. When Tom looks down, he notices Landon's gaze and snorts at him. "What!?" "Sorry, am I interrupting something?" "Yes! Yes you are!" "Oh." Landon sighs, looking back and forth between Flesher and Raynor. "Well, if it's you guys rolling back the years and recanting stories from yesteryear then I'll just leave now before crippling boredom strikes me down. You know, like our TV audience. HELLOooo!" Maddix inexplicably picks up the copy of the card Raynor had brought in earlier, scrunching it up and pitching it into a waste paper bin at the back of the room. "BALLIN~!" Raynor just smiles at Landon. "So, Landon... you're not a big fan of Revolution Zero, right?" asks Raynor, Tom putting his head in his hand in the background. "I'm a white male, age 16-30. So... no. Why do you ask?" "Oh, no reason." Tom quickly buts in, standing up from his desk ready to usher Landon out of the door. Raynor has other ideas though. "Word is that while I was away, you equalled that little record I had with the Tag Titles. Four title reigns, four different partners. So, I take it from that you're pretty comfortable teaming up with people you may or may not neccessarily know, or like, or have that much in common with? See, the thing is..." "...the thing is Landon..." "...the thing is, as Tom has so astutely pointed out to me, I don't have a tag team partner to go after Revolution Zero with." With a little persuasive body language, Raynor eventually seems to get the message across to Landon. The Hardcore Champion, curiously without his belt mind you, begins to creep a smile over his face as he looks at Tom. The Commissioner's cautionary glare at Landon not to even think about it of course makes him think about it all the more. "Well, gee, I'd be honoured to team with you Chris! You've been a idol of mine for so many years after all." Flesher lets out a pained groan, which quickly turns into a pained growl. "Okay, fine! I can see where this is going and seeing as I don't particularly like it one bit, here's what's going to happen. You two want to tag together? Get your gear and get to the ring. Consider your night off officially cancelled, you're facing... MANSON and Alexander, tonight! Seeing as you're so concerned about our TV ratings all of a sudden," growls Flesher, finger pointed firmly in Landon's direction, "maybe you can give everybody something they'll enjoy. The sight of YOU getting destroyed by MANSON again," Flesher turns his attention back to Raynor, "and the sight of YOU having to be wheeled out of here again! Now go!" Happy to have gotten his way, Raynor does just that, Landon looking a little surprised at the sudden outburst of anger from Tom. He puts on a face of innocence which only serves to PO the Commish even more, before scuttling off after his newfound tag team partner. Meanwhile, Tom grabs a cigar from his desk and lights up. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
chirs3 0 Report post Posted September 7, 2007 “The following tag team contest is scheduled for one fall!” People of Earth! We are the Ziltodian Warlords, Resistance is futile! Storm returns to an epileptic display of flashing and strobing lights on the stage, coupled with copious amounts of smoke and “Ziltoidia Ataxx!” blasting throughout the arena. Two figures slowly come into view through the haze, as Funyon lends a hand to the uninitiated in the crowd. “Introducing first, at a total combined weight of four hundred and fifty one pounds... Michael Alexander and MANSON... Slaughterhoooooouse Fiiiiiiiiiiive!” Alexander appears first, and immediately sets off to the side of the ramp to berate the holder of a poster reading “Michael Alexander – the MBad Scientist of the Mat!” MANSON appears through the smoke and heads straight down to the ring, leaving Alexander to play catch up. “Welcome back to Storm, everybody,” Mak Francis leads in, “and we've got a special treat for you tonight – a match that was set up just a little while ago, between... uh... King, what are you doing?” “Checking the yellowpages for a witch doctor. I told you picking up a penny that's tails up was bad luck, but did you listen? Nooooo! And now you've given me your stupid voodoo jinx!” “What? How is this bad luck?” “Are you kidding? Two of my least favorite people in this company – who weren't even booked tonight - are teaming up for an impromptu match. We could have had a Maddix-free evening, Francis, but you just had to ruin it!” With suspiciously convenient timing, that point is accentuated by the all too familiar: REACH OUT AND TOUCH FAITH! Another light show, though slightly less spastic than the last, illuminates the stage as Megan Skye swipes the curtain aside and steps out to the delight of the crowd! She takes a moment to soak up her cheers, before surrendering the spotlight to her man, Landon Maddix! La Cucaracha takes his time absorbing the attention of the crowd, so much so that silhouette of his partner behind him goes largely unnoticed at first. “And their opponents, being accompanied to the ring by Megan Skye... weighing in at a total combined weight of four hundred and fifty eight pounds... Chris Raynor, and the reigning SWF Hardcore Champion... Landon “La Cucarachaaaaa” Maaaaadiiiiiix!” Landon continues to play to the crowd, while Raynor rolls his eyes and heads down the ramp. In the ring, referee Brian Warner goes about the unenviable task of relieving MANSON of his bat. “Hello? Billy Witchdoctor?” “King, get off the phone!” Alexander and MANSON have retreated to their corner, forming various strategeries, as Raynor makes it down to ringside. He climbs up on the apron, gets one leg through the ropes- -and instantly gets bumrushed by Slaughterhouse Five! Both members dash across the ring and plow straight into the Caveman, knocking him down to the floor! They then climb out after him and start going to town! “And just like Revolution Zero did last week, Slaughterhouse Five is ambushing Raynor before the bell's even rung! This is absurd!” “Absurd? It's a winning strategy with a proven track record. They'd be crazy not to do it.” A barrage of boots keep the Caveman grounded for a few seconds, then MANSON pulls him up, grabs him by the arm, and starts to whip him towards the stairs, but before he can get there Landon Maddix tackles him from the side, slamming him into the apron! Michael Alexander moves in to rescue his partner, but Raynor's aware enough to step in and deliver a series of European Uppercuts, pushing him back to the guard rail! Landon grabs MANSON by the hair and rolls him into the ring, then rolls in after him while shouting “RING THE BELL!” to Warner. While it's technically not Warner's job to actually ring the bell, it's close enough. *DING DING DING* “It's a good thing Raynor had backup tonight – if we'd seen a repeat of last week, I don't want to know what he'd have done.” “Spoilers: He'd have whined to Tom some more. That's about it.” A few extra officials bolt down the ramp to try and separate Raynor and Alexander, who are still brawling on the outside. Inside the ring, Landon's got the Savage Messiah backed up in a neutral corner, and is wailing away on him with some searing knife-edge chops! *SMACK* *SMACK* *SMACK* *WHOOSH* Three is apparently MANSON's limit, as he ducks the fourth and tosses Landon in the corner, and returns the favor with a series of elbows! One, two, three meet their mark, and MANSON decides not to push for a fourth, instead pulling Maddix out and taking him down with a short-arm clothesline! Before La Cucaracha can rebound, MANSON leaps on top of him and begins hammering away! “No shortage of history between these two,” Francis points out. “They met a few times on the way to Ground Zero, where Landon finally put the feud to rest in a Hardcore Title bout.” “Looks like someone forgot to tell MANSON the feud was put to rest,” King shoots, as the Savage Messiah continues to pummel Maddix! Landon gets his arms up and blocks what he can, but it won't do much in the longterm – instead, he kicks his legs up and manages to snare them around MANSON's head and fling him off! Both men get to their feet at about the same time – MANSON charges first, but Landon moves off to the side and delivers a stiff kick to his opponent's gut, completely halting his momentum! He then takes the Raging Bull and hurls him into the friendly corner, just as Raynor, now being coaxed away from Alexander on the outside, climbs onto the apron! He and Landon exchange a tag, and both begin pounding on MANSON while Warner begins counting! As soon as he gets close to threatening a DQ, Maddix bows out. Raynor starts pulling MANSON out of the corner, but quickly whips him back around and sends him slamming chest first into the turnbuckle! The Savage Messiah stumbles out backwards, and before he knows what's happening Raynor hooks his leg and neck, and swings him back- “Into the Raynfall - and here's the cover!” ONE! T- Gets the shoulder up! Raynor keeps the pressure on him, dragging him up by the hair then clubbing him across the back of the head, forcing him back down to the mat! A few more blows to the back, then he pulls MANSON back to the friendly corner and tags Maddix back in. Landon is more than happy to oblige, and the two whip MANSON into the ropes – they attempt a double clothesline, but the Raging Bull ducks, and on the rebound he leaps up and takes down half of La CucaRaynor with a flying forearm! Unfortunately, it's the half that doesn't matter – he pastes Raynor in the face, but the now legal Landon is quick enough to duck, and before MANSON can get back to his feet, Landon grabs his hair and starts delivering some unbelievably stiff Kawada Kicks to his face! With his opponent dazed, Landon runs to the ropes, and as he comes back he leaps over his foe and grabs his neck on the way down, landing the Perfect Neck Snap! Another cover! ONE! T- Shoulder comes up again! Landon doesn't waste time in picking the God Machine back up – maybe he should have, though, as it would have delayed the thumb to the eye! “Attaboy, Manson, go for the eyes! Maybe now he'll stop oggling himself in front of the mirror so often.” “And you know this how, King?” “I have my sources.” After the rake of the eyes, MANSON is in no mood to screw around – he drives a few hard knees into Maddix's midsection, then levels him with a roundhouse kick! He then heads across the ring and tags in Michael Alexander – Maddix makes a small start towards his corner, but Slaughterhouse Five quickly cut him off – Alexander drops a knee to Landon's head, as Manson stomps a mudhole in his back! He then takes his leave, leaving the Mad Scientist to deal with La Cucaracha. As Landon gets to his knees, Michael gets a small running start and delivers a basement dropkick to the side of his head, then rolls him over for a cover! ONE! TW- Maddix gets the shoulder up, but the rest of him stays down. Alexander gives him a half-hearted bootscrape before heading down to his lower half, where he begins driving his knee into the side of Landon's leg. After a few shots, he rolls Landon onto this stomach, then takes that same leg- “Looks like he's setting up the Ouroboros II,” calls Mak, as Alexander wrenches Landon's leg back, before rolling to the side and scissoring his head! “And that's why they call him the Professor of Pain, Mak. Not only can he deliver the hurt, but he does it using words that no one on the planet can define!” “What, Ouroboros? It's an ancient symbol depicting a serpent or dragon swallowing its own tail and forming a circle. It most generally symbolizes ideas of cyclicality, unity, or infinity.” “... I hate you.” “Even so, you've got a point,” Francis continues. “He made sure to roll himself towards the ropes, meaning Maddix is facing the center of the ring. It's going to take a hell of an effort to break out of that.” Landon is equally aware of this, and is doing his damnedest to reach out for the ropes, but he's not making much progress. So instead, he grits his teeth, does his best to tuck in, and rolls – he gets enough momentum to roll on top of Alexander, and while the Cockroach may not way a ton, the list of things Alexander takes joy in does not include having a 208 pound man on top of him, and he releases the hold to shove Maddix off and gets to his feet. Landon follows suit, but Michael is on him in a flash, this time landing a dropkick to Maddix's knee! A few more boots to that leg follow, and he then grabs it and makes another attempt at the Oroboros, but Maddix's good leg shoves him away! He stalks Maddix from behind, looking for another crack at that leg, and Landon is only too happy to oblige, as he mule kicks Alexander right in the stomach! The Mad Genius collapses, the wind completely knocked out of him, and Maddix takes the time to get to his feet and shake out the kinks in his leg. “Looks like he made it out of that relatively intact.” “Do I need to explain the concept of wearing down to you, Mak? It doesn't happen in an instant.” Landon takes a quick breather on the ropes, taking in some encouraging words from Megan, then he steps over to his opponent. Alexander returns to his feet just in time to get a swinging neckbreaker for his troubles, and he's quickly dragged back up to his feet – Landon holds him from behind and raises his arm, signaling that it's time time for the- *WHAM* “Landon Eye, into the cover!” ONE! TW- Kickout! Undeterred, Landon pulls Alexander along to his corner and tags in Raynor, saying “Keep on his neck” as he delivers a quick kick to Alexander's gut, then exits. Raynor clearly doesn't need to be told twice, and he takes the doubled over Mad Genius and hooks him for a suplex, but drops him forward over the top rope! He then grabs ahold of his opponent's neck, turns away, and drops him down in a neckbreaker, and Alexander falls off the ropes into a pin! ONE! TW- He kicks out! “Looks like the Evil Genius is getting a taste of his own medicine here – La CucaRaynor seems to-” “Oh God, are we really calling them that?” “-be targeting Alexander's neck – both the Acid Rayn and the Land of Nod can do wonders to a damaged neck.” Alexander rolls to his knees, but Raynor quickly cuts him off by applying a front facelock and leading him away from his corner. He throws a few quick punches to daze his opponent, then falls back into the ropes and springs back with a stuff elbow to the face, that drives Alexander straight back down! Raynor quickly falls back into the nearby turnbuckle and hops up to the second rope- “Sing the name of this move and I swear to God I'll make you a Quadriplegic, Mak.” -and quickly drops off, driving his elbow across Alexander's throat! Alexander rolls away, but Raynor stops him from going much farther by locking on a front facelock and dragging him back up. He hoists Michael up, but the Evil Genius uses the momentum to swing around and land on his feet behind Raynor! The Caveman immediately throws an elbow back to try and catch Alexander off guard, but he catches nothing but air, as the Evil Genius instantly leaps back and throws a hand out to MANSON! Just as Raynor turns around to see what's what, Slaughterhouse Five hit him with a double clothesline! “Excellent move there by Michael Alexander – most people probably would've been caught by that elbow, but he didn't take any unnecessary risks by sticking around!” They then bring Raynor back up to his feet and stun him with a few knife edge chops, then MANSON runs to the ropes in front while Michael hits the ropes from behind! “This isn't gonna be pretty.” MANSON hurdles forward and throws not just a lariat, but The One Lariat – the Lariat to rule all Lariats – just as Alexander dives from behind, chop blocking Raynor's right knee! It's hard to tell which individual piece hurt more, but MANSON couldn't possibly care less as he dives on top of Raynor and hooks the leg! ONE! TW- The Caveman kicks out! MANSON shoots a death glare at referee Brian Warner. Luckily though, it's not an actual MANSON death glare and he remains unliquified. "A little high-low action from Slaughterhouse Five..." calls Mak, pausing to think. "...is it me, or does that sound like the name of a bad emo band?" "Our number one contenders are called Winston Churchill." "Good point." concendes Mak. MANSON drags Raynor to his feet, striking his fellow veteran with a forearm. The God Machine then strikes Raynor right in the base of the neck with a quick kesagiri chop... and again... a third time! A quick 360 then sets up a big Spinning Backfist, the flurry of strikes dazing Raynor and softening up his neck noticeably. As Raynor slumps to a knee, cradling that neck, MANSON looks over to Megan with a creepy smile on his face, ducking behind Raynor and sweeping The Caveman over with an impressive Saito Suplex!! "Right on his head! That's 250 pounds MANSON just threw right there!" No cover, MANSON preferrring instead to climb to his feet and take an unneccessary cheapshot at Landon on the apron. Landon's bravado draws him into the ring which allows Michael Alexander to sneak in undetected, dragging Raynor into the Slaughterhouse Five corner. The Mad Scientist Of The Mat concocts a devious experiment, tucking Raynor's head underneath the middle turnbuckle and standing him on his feet, effectively wedging him in the corner. Backing up, Alexander then charges... ...dropkicking Raynor in the back, compressing his spine and neck against the middle turnbuckle!! "OOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!" Alexander sneaks back out of the ring, taking the tag-rope ready for a legal exchange with MANSON. "In comes Alexander, but he may have already done the damage." "May have?" scoffs King. "Raynor's done. A young, healthy competitor would struggle to take something so devestating as what Michael Alexander just did to him, let alone an old wreck like 'Caveman Chris'." Dragging Raynor away from the corner, Alexander turns Raynor onto his front, dropping the knee across the neck! Turning him back over, he then covers... ONE! TWO! Save by Landon! "Well, I'm not sure just how invested Landon is in this team," Mak thinks aloud, "but he made the save there okay." "Maddix is an egomaniac. He doesn't care if he's going after Toxxic, pissing off Taamo... he just wants to win." "That's a good thing, surely?" "You'd think so. And yet... it's Maddix." Alexander watches Landon on his way out before turning around, slapping The Rayn Man around a little bit for his amusement. He then starts to drag Raynor to his feet. Which is when Raynor starts to show some fight, stunning Alexander with a punch to the gut from his knees. Alexander shakes it off well enough, only to take a second punch when he starts lifting again. A third punch finds the mark and suddenly an opening presents itself to Raynor, coming to Alexander's side and hitting a Side Russian Legswee... NO! It's Raynor who gets sweeped, his leg taken from underneath him, The Mad Genius spinning around it in one swift movement and taking Chris's head to apply the Ouroboros!! "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" "Alexander unable to get that hold on Landon earlier. But he has it sunk in on Raynor and is doing damage to the neck in the process, The Rayn Man could be in some trouble here!" Having rolled to the side, Alexander now wrenches away on the neck looking to force a submission. In comes MANSON, standing guard and blocking Landon's path to make the save. To his credit Landon tries, scooting down the apron and trying to turn MANSON on his heels to get into the ring. MANSON blocks him off though, holding Maddix down as referee Warner leans in to check on Raynor's condition. "Looks like the 'tag-team specialists' aren't quite so special after all." mocks King prematurely. "It was always a fine line between them being tag-team specialists or just carried by so many different partners to me, now I guess we know which one it was." "RAY - NOR!" "RAY - NOR!" "RAY - NOR!" "RAY - NOR!" With the fans behind him, Raynor starts to show some more guts and determination to free himself from the hold. He doesn't have all that much free to fight with though, his limbs all either tied up or trapped underneath his body. Raynor's fight therefore fades... ...so it's just as well Landon manages to escape MANSON, dragging him through the ropes to the floor before springboarding up top... ...FLYING DOUBLE STOMP ON ALEXANDER!! "YYEEEEEEE..." No sooner has Landon broke the hold though, he's turning back towards MANSON, charging towards his side of the ring and taking flight through the bottom and middle rope to skittle The Raging Bull back down the aisleway!! "YYEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!" "TOPÉ ESPECIAL!" roars Mak in his best, thickest Spanish accent. "It's breaking down all of a sudden!" "Well, what do you expect Mak? Maddix is a known cheater with utter contept for any sort of rules and Raynor is..." "An ex-Carnie?" "Exactly!" With MANSON and Landon incapacitated on the floor, it's left to the rising star Michael Alexander and the grizzled veteran~ Chris Raynor for their teams. And it's Alexander, despite being double-stomped on moments ago, who's in the better shape and able to dictate. He takes Raynor over to the corner, bouncing his head off of the top turnbuckle pad before placing the eyes across the top ring-rope for that old stand-by, running Chris's eyes across the rope down the length of the ring! Or half of it at least, stopping there to whip Raynor into the ropes. Despite being blinded temporarily, Raynor is still a 250 pound guy though and is able to reverse on the whip. Back shoots Alexander, going low for a dropkick to the patella... but Raynor hurdles him! Alexander scrambles back to his feet and gets a little ahead of himself, charging straight into Raynor's waiting arms for a SPINEBUSTAH~! ONE! TWO! Shoulder up! Still the eyes are stinging and Raynor stops to rub at them... *SMACK!* ...allowing Alexander to kick out at him from his back, catching Raynor in the shoulder! "It'll take more than that to put Michael Alexander down, this is the kid who almost won a main-event spot at Genesis last week let's not forget." King makes sure we don't forget. As Raynor backtracks into a corner, Alexander climbs back up. He lines up Raynor and charges, forearm wielded. Raynor catches him in his arms however, double-legging Alexander up and out of the corner. It looks like another Spinebuster is on the way, but a shout from the outside stops The Rayn Man short. Curiously, he looks behind him to see Landon Maddix up on the middle rope. And with a quick re-think, an inverted atomic drop jars Alexander, setting him up for the FLYING DDT from the Hardcore Gamers Champion!! "That might put him down though!" Not the legal man, Maddix leaves the pinning duties to Raynor... ONE! TWO! KICKOUT! Back in slides MANSON, past Maddix to club Raynor in the back of the head. Maddix pounces on MANSON with some kicks though, letting him up in the corner... *SLAP!* "WHOOOOOOOO!" ...to fire in a knifedge chop! *SLAP!* "WHOOOOOOOO!" ...and another! Ignoring the fact that he and his opponent aren't legal, Landon then whips MANSON corner to corner, setting him up for a diving forearm smash in the corner... or at least that was the intention. MANSON puts pay to that by getting a boot up though! "Raynor and Alexander are still legal, for anyone keeping score at home. Chances are you'll be the only ones." Staggering out of the corner, Landon tries to stagger back but gets trapped. Head, arm... and a Gargoyle Suplex, the ropes catching Landon's feet and providing an ugly landing for him! Out of the ring rolls the Hardcore Champ, as MANSON turns around... into a heavy duty clothesline from the Rayn Man! But when Raynor turns around, he too walks into trouble, Michael Alexander back up and guiding him down across the knee in a modified facebuster. Alexander seamlessly transitions that into a Side Russian Legsweep, completing The Whiplash and seemingly putting Raynor down for the... ONE! TWO! ...and... THR- NO! "Not such an old wreck now, is he?" Mak sneers to his broadcast partner. "Come on guys, just remember, Tom's counting on you!" shouts King, pretending that a- he can't hear Mak and that b- MANSON and Alexander can hear him. Dragging Raynor back up, Alexander steps behind, clubbing him in the upper back with some overhand forearms. Alexander then sets and looks to lift his opponent for a back suplex, perhaps even the Blue Thunder. However, Raynor is able to block with some downward thrusting elbows to the back of Alexander's neck. After fighting off The Mad Genius for the moment, Raynor now faces the problem of MANSON wielding his Iron Cutting Sword and charging right for him... *WHAM!* ...a BIG Boot to the face taking care of that though! "Wow! Down goes MANSON in a big way!" The previous problem arises again for Raynor moments later, Michael Alexander coming back at him. But something is cooking in the Caveman all of a sudden and he finds deceptive quickness for his 31 years of age, adjusting his body position to sweep Alexander over into a Tilt-a-whirl Slam! It's more tilt than slam with it being such a quick counter. But what part of the move he didn't quite get is negated by Landon Maddix, suddenly, soaring into view with a FROG SPLASH on Alexander!! Cover... ONE! "He's not legal." points out King. TWO! "He's not legal!" points out King. Loudly. NO, ONLY TWO!! "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" "Good!" King sighs in relief. "That would have been a travesty, Landon wasn't even the legal man!" "You don't say." Quickly, Landon and Raynor confer, the makeshift partners thinking on their feet. Landon quickly takes care of MANSON getting to his feet, forearming him in the face and knocking him down in the corner. Meanwhile, Raynor sets up Alexander for Acid Rayn... ...NO! Alexander lands behind and shoves Raynor forward. Like a deer caught in the headlights, Maddix sees Raynor steaming towards him and has to think quickly, throwing a clothesline with a quick yell of 'DUCK!'. Instinctively, Raynor does just that... ...Avalanching MANSON in the corner... ...while Maddix ends up running into a sidesweep, spun around in mid-air by Alexander and DRIVEN to the canvas with the Event Horizon spinning blue thunder!! "Got him!" Realising Landon isn't legal though, Alexander neglects to stay there for the pin. Instead he goes after the actual leg man, Chris Raynor, the man he pushed into certain danger a few seconds ago. The man who's waiting on him with a boot to the gut. "ACID RAYN!" The cry from Mak is a little premature. But only a little, as Raynor manages to take The Mad Scientist of the mat up, turning him out of the suplex position and DOWN ACROSS THE KNEE WITH THE ACID RAYN 3.0!!!! "Acid Rayn, connects!" Mak re-iterates. "You could count to twenty!" But we only need three... ONE! TWO! THREEEE!!! We've got three. "YYYEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!" "The tag team specialists pick up the victory!" *DINGDINGDING!* Raynor rolls off of Alexander and to his knees, punching the air in vindication. "Here are your winners of the match... the team of LANDON "LA CUCARACHA" MADDIX and CHHRRIIISS... RRRRAAAAAYYYYYYNNOOOORRRRRR!!!" "YYYEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!" Landon still looks a little bewildered but seems happy enough that Megan is congratulating him, always glad of a victory. Raynor continues to celebrate to himself across the ring, before walking over to Landon... and after an exchange of looks, patting his partner on the chest. "Big victory here for Chris Raynor and Landon Maddix. Products of two different generations and thrown together so suddenly, there wasn't a lot of real teamwork on show tonight. But with eight World Tag Team Title reigns between them, you wouldn't bet against them going for the Perfect Ten given the chance at Revolution Zero!" "Oh Tom, what have you done." sighs King. Leaving the ring, Raynor stops on his walk away. And he actually waits for Landon and Megan, still walking a couple of steps ahead of them and not joining in their cheery celebrations with the people, but showing at least some solidarity as we FADE OUT. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
chirs3 0 Report post Posted September 7, 2007 “Folks, welcome back to Storm,” Mak Francis greets the viewers as Storm returns from commercial, “we may have fewer than matches than usual tonight but it’s still value for money-” “Not that anyone’s paying to see this,” the Suicide King cuts in. “-because coming up next we have the first of two title matches,” The Franchise continues with a sideward glance at his commentary partner. “The World Title is on the line in our main event as Johnny Dangerous goes one-on-one with Alan Clark-” “Can’t wait.” “-but for now we have the SWF World Tag Team Titles up for grabs,” Mak says, restraining the impulse to slap King upside the head, “as Winston Churchill challenges the reigning champions, Revolution Zero.” It is at that moment that a gong rings out around the arena, drawing everyone’s attention to the soundstage. Funyon realises what’s going on and decides he needs to get the introductions out before anything too weird happens… “Ladies and gentlemen, the following tag team contest is scheduled for one fall and is for the SWF World Tag Team Championships!” the veteran ring announcer booms. “Introducing first-” *BOOOM! BOOOM! BOOOM! BANG! BANG! BANG! BOOOM!* Winston Churchill’s signature black pyro explodes from, like, everywhere. Funyon sighs, waits for it to finish and then continues. “Introducing first, at a combi-” *BOOOM!* Funyon glowers at one of the ringposts, which appears to have gone off late. “At a com-” *BOOOM!* That was one side of the soundstage. Funyon is clearly less than impressed. “Introdu-” *BOOOM!* Lighting rig. Funyon plants his hands on his hips and glares around at the arena in general, waiting to see if anything else is going to explode. When nothing pyrotechnic happens he snorts, straightens his bowtie raises his microphone and opens his mouth… and pauses. Nothing happens. “Introducing first, the challe-” *BOOOM!* “GODDAMMIT!” …and on the Smarktron the imposing visage of Winston Churchill himself appears, altering over the next few seconds to gain glowing red eyes and a truly alarming goatee and moustache combination! This is the signal for four tie-died sheep to canter down the entrance ramp and make a brief circle of the ring in classic numbskull sheep fashion before hurdling the guardrail with surprising agility and careering off through the crowd. Then all the arena lights drop out and spotlight spears down from above to focus on the soundstage where C.A.P.Y.B.A.R.A. is rising into view as golden smoke billows up and around him. For this special occasion, the massive rodent is wearing golden sunglasses. As the lift settles into place Tiny Tim starts singing ‘Tipetoe Through The Tulips’ and as golden sparks start to rain down Jimmy The Doom and Fulminatus step out from the back! “YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “IntroducingfirstthechallengersaccompaniedtotheringbyC.A.P.Y.BA.R.A.atacombinedw ightof420lbstheyaretheteamofJimmyTheDoomandtheSWFNewBloodChampionFulminatus,” Funyon gabbles, then sucks in a breath, “WINNNNNNNNNNN-STONNNNNNNNNNNNN… CHURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR- *BOOOM!* “FOR FUCK’S SAKE!” “Well King, we saw Toxxic sabotage Jay Hawke’s entrance in their match two weeks ago, but I’m fairly sure there is no way that anyone could sabotage this,” Mak comments as Fulminatus, Jimmy and the C.A.P.Y.B.A.R.A. make their way down the entrance ramp as the fans cheer around them. “Winston Churchill are perhaps the most unorthodox tag team we’ve ever seen in the SWF, and I have to wonder whether even the teamwork we have seen Toxxic and Austin Sly bring over the last couple of months will be enough to see them off.” “Unorthodox means jack, Francis,” the Suicide King snorts. “A paper hammer would be unorthodox, it doesn’t mean it’s good or effective. Personally I think the fact that these clowns got a shot before the team of MANSON and Michael Alexander is a travesty.” Winston Churchill take a brief detour over to their merchandise stand where they spend a quick thirty seconds flogging everything they can to nearby fans, then tie C.A.P.Y.B.A.R.A. to the guard rail and climb into the ring, where Funyon eyes them with some malice. The fans seem to be into the team… …but suddenly the mood changes as the Smarktron whites out, every light in the arena hits full and there is the faint sound of a needle scratching over vinyl… “WEL-WEL-W-W-WELCOME TO THE REVOLUTION!” The deep voice booms out around the arena and the Smarktron changes to show a rotating ‘REV-0’ logo, interspersed with clips of the members of the Revolution as the epileptic guitar of ‘Know Your Enemy’ by Rage Against The Machine fires up. For some thirty seconds the song sputters on as spotlights sweep the crowd… and then the main riff kicks in. *BOOOM!* *BOOOM!* *BOOOM!* ‘KNOW YOUR ENEMY!’ Zack de la Rocha’s voice roars out, and with that the defending champions appear! Toxxic comes first with a lopsided grin on his face and his red-and-black canvas trenchcoat flapping around him, one title belt strapped around his waist while the other is slung over his right shoulder. Meanwhile Austin Sly follows behind with a slightly more sober demeanour and his own two title belts dangling one from each hand. “And their opponents,” Funyon booms, “at a combined weight of 458lbs, they are the SWF Stable Champions and the reigning and defending SWF World Tag Team Champions; the team of Austin Sly and ‘The Straight-Edge Sensation’ Toxxic… REVOLUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-TION… ZERRRRRRRRRRRRR-OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!” “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Toxxic unstraps both his belts and throws them into the ring over the top rope for referee Brian Warner to catch, then rolls into the ring. Sly chooses to walk up the ring steps before climbing into the squared circle in a slightly more traditional way before handing his own straps over. “Revolution Zero ‘won’ the Stables Titles last week after a three-on-one beatdown of Chris Raynor in a Handicap Match,” Mak Francis says, then corrects himself. “Well, actually they beat him down before the match. I can’t see how can really lay claim to the belts with no other stables around to challenge them-” “Never stopped the Carnival,” King cuts in, “and besides, does the lack of challengers prevent them from being the best stable? On the contrary, I’d say it confirms it!” “Whatever,” Mak sighs, “we also heard Toxxic say earlier tonight that he intends to put himself into the main event of Genesis by challenging either Alan Clark or Johnny Dangerous for the World Title, so is his focus really going to be on the Tag Titles now?” “Mak, Toxxic in the main event at Genesis isn’t just a good idea, it’s absolutely damn necessary,” King says, “especially since we’re guaranteed to have to put up with either World Champion Clark who wishes he could Become A Real Boy or, even worse, Johnny Dangermouse. I mean don’t get me wrong, Clark can be amusingly sadistic at times,” the Gambling Man admits, “but at the end of the day he’s Disney sponsored, and that shit’s just wrong. As for tonight, Toxxic would only need half his focus anyway to take down these two on his own, and he’s got Austin Sly with him so he wouldn’t even need that. They’ve got the experience edge, the teaming edge, the advantage of being champions, and unlike their opponents neither one of them fucking sucks, so I think they’ll be OK.” *DING-DING-DING!* The bell goes, and it finds Austin Sly and Jimmy The Doom in the ring to start off. Jimmy advances forwards with as little thought for personal safety as ever, and Austin meets him in a lock-up that sees both men jockeying for position. With them seemingly well-matched for strength Sly is either unwilling or too impatient to see who slips or weakens first, and he abruptly drops a shoulder and twists away from Jimmy’s grasp, slipping behind the Doomtopian to grab a rear waistlock before hoisting his lanky opponent up and twisting around to dump Doom down onto his face with a classic takedown. Austin pulls back and tries to gain purchase on one of Jimmy’s long legs, but Doom manages to turn over onto his back and kick out at him with the opposite limb to catch Sly in the chest and send him staggering backwards. Jimmy rolls back up to his feet with an ungainly flailing of arms and legs but Sly is ready for him and dives back in with a double-leg takedown that dumps the Doomtopian onto his back; Sly tries to manipulate Jimmy’s legs together this time to prevent his opponent from using one of them to kick him away, but Doom starts firing off punches at Sly’s head with his long arms, then reaches up and grabs the Revolutionary to deliver a headbutt. *CRACK!* Sly wobbles sideways and Doom gets back up to a vertical base, grabs hold of Sly’s arm and applies an armwringer. Austin growls in annoyance, drops down and rolls across the mat to release the tension on his arm, then comes up to his feet and adds a twist to apply an armwringer of his own in one smooth motion. Jimmy drops down and rolls himself, but doesn’t seem to put enough momentum behind it and ends up flat on his back. Sly looks down curiously, and Doom chooses that moment to sit up and bite his opponent on the kneecap. ‘Yeowch!’ Sly yelps, hopping away as the crowd cheers and Brian Warner remonstrates with Jimmy for his unorthodox tactic. Doom pays the official no heed on this occasion however, and instead pursues Sly and clamps a headlock on the dual champion before Austin can recover his composure. Doom tows his reluctant opponent towards the Winston Churchill corner and reaches out a long arm to tag Fulminatus, but just as the tag is made and the Cruiserweight Chaos Engine leaps over the ropes into the match Sly is able to disentangle himself and backpedal sharply to keep sufficient distance between himself and this new threat. Sly looks ready to square up to Fulminatus, but Toxxic calls out behind him and extends a hand, looking for a tag into the match. Sly shrugs and obliges, and the Straight-Edge Sensation vaults in over the ropes in a manner very similar to the man he’s about to face. “FUL-MIN-A-TUS!” “FUL-MIN-A-TUS!” “Well, this might be interesting,” Mak Francis notes, “Fulminatus appears to have been attempting to ‘court’ Toxxic’s sister Amy… with less than spectacular success, it must be noted. I wonder if her brother might try and give the New Blood Champion a few lessons here?” “Mak, Toxxic barely cared when Landon was sleeping with Amy,” Suicide King says, “he only got involved when the Cockroach threatened to Demonstar her. I doubt he really cares about what this masked freak gets off to in his fantasy world.” Fulminatus is virtually skipping around the ring while Toxxic watches in what can only be described as good-natured amusement. The Englishman starts to move to pursue but Fulminatus is a wily foe and keeps dodging. Finally Toxxic just breaks into a full sprint and gives chase around the squared circle with Fulminatus rolling, ducking, diving and just plain keeping out of Toxxic’s reach. “FUL-MIN-A-TUS!” “FUL-MIN-A-TUS!” “He’s running away!” King shouts, “coward!” Finally, Fulminatus is cornered. Toxxic dashes forward, black-nailed hands spread wide, and the Cruiserweight Chaos Engine jumps for what looks like the only way out… but it is not to be. *slap* ‘Tag! You’re it!’ Toxxic yells as his hand catches Fulminatus on the shoulder. The masked wrestler stops, clearly confused, and looks back at his opponent. Toxxic just grins slightly sheepishly… and Fulminatus starts grinning too. Suddenly realisation dawns on Toxxic as he realises that he’s backed into a corner and Fulminatus, with his new-found ‘it’ power is bearing down on him eager to continue the game. The Cruiserweight Chaos Engine lunges- *WHAM!* -and Toxxic floors him with a European uppercut, then starts stomping on his chest. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “What the hell was that?” King asks, completely perplexed. “Uhh… I think Toxxic suckered Fulminatus into a game of tag, then stopped playing very suddenly,” Mak Francis speculates as the crowd voice their disapproval, possibly at such bad sportsmanship. “Who the hell starts playing tag in the middle of a wrestling match?” “Apparently Fulminatus. I guess he thought ‘tag match’ had a different meaning.” Toxxic reaches down and drags his winded opponent off the mat and into an upright position, then sizes him up… RIGHT! LEFT! RIGHT! LEFT! …Toxxic backs up a step and flips an offensive v-sign at his opponent… DISCUS CLOTHESLINE! …but Fulminatus ducks and rolls under the whirling arm, causing Toxxic to stumble on towards the corner of the ring! However the straight-edger is nothing if not innovative, and he simply allows his momentum to carry him to the turnbuckles, whereupon he leaps to the top rope and then back off, twisting in midair to deliver a flying clothesline to Fulminatus just as the masked wrestler rolls back up to his feet and turns around! *WHAM!* Toxxic knocks Fulminatus to the floor, rolls away to one side… and kips up. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “A Role Reversal by Toxxic keeps control of this match firmly in his hands,” Mak notes. “The challengers seem to be having a hard time getting started in this match.” “They’re going up against on of the most decorated men in the history of the SWF and our business. Oh, and he doesn’t fucking suck.” Toxxic goes to grab his opponent’s arm and hoist him back into the air, but Fulminatus is quick and rolls away before he can be caught. He raises to one knee as Stephens makes an attempt to catch him by the head, but sneaky bastard slips between Toxxic’s legs before raising back to his feet. The Revolutionary turns on his heels just in time to catch a cartwheel kick to the face! “Fortuna’s Wheel!” shouts Mak. Despite his quickness and agility, Fulminatus still finds it hard to land a no handed cartwheel and falls awkwardly on the mat. Toxxic is stunned by the kick and also struggles to get back to his feet. The Deconstruction Dynamo gets behind his opponent as if to stalk him before shooting one hand around Toxxic’s body to his chest and the other one into his armpit. Toxxic yells out in pain as the Armpit Claw is locked in, but not enough to warrant Brian Warner’s attention. Either that, or maybe it’s just how unorthodox and silly this hold looks. But it does hurt. A lot. I promise. “What the hell is this kid doing?” King asks. “I don’t know if he’s trying to hurt Toxxic or just making a misguided pass at him.” “As strange as he may seem, I’m sure that Fulminatus is fully aware of the fact that the best way to a woman’s heart is most likely not to lay with her brother.” Trapped in a bad situation such as this, some people would just simply give up and call it quits. Other people might simply look for the easiest escape that they could find and take their chances with that. Those people don’t turn out to be four-time World Heavyweight Champions, though. Ignoring any pain in his chest, Toxxic lifts his right leg and then stomps his foot down onto Fulminatus’, effectively breaking his control over the hold. The leader of Revolution Zero makes a quick spin to face his opponent before wrapping his hands around the back of the smaller man’s head and placing own head underneath his chin before dropping down for a Sitout Jawbreaker! The Cruiserweight Chaos Engine shoots backwards in pain, landing on the mat with a thud before rolling back up to a sitting position. He reaches at his mask possibly to make sure that there has been no damage done and possibly to make sure that his identity is still hidden; whatever he’s doing it’s a mistake. Turning your back on Toxxic… tisk tisk. Deciding that one submission attempt deserves another in rebuttal, Toxxic takes a seat behind his opponent before reaching forward and grabbing his arms. Leaning back, Toxxic uses his legs to apply a psuedo-full nelson hold and begins to stretch out Fulminatus. “And now Toxxic has locked in a Double Leg Nelson, possible as a bit of payback for the Armpit Claw that he had to endure just a few seconds ago,” explains Mak. “I must admit, Stephens has been doing a good job of keeping one step ahead of the usually impressive newcomer.” “Fulminatus may have been impressive against all the other rookies whenever he won that New Blood Championship but now he’s playing with the big boys, Mak. Hopefully he can learn something from this loss tonight.” “The match isn‘t over until the final bell rings, King. You should know that.” “It might not be over officially, but in all reality everyone already knows what the outcome is going to be. It’s just a matter or time now.” King promises. Toxxic has just began to enjoy his hold by the time that referee Brian Warner informs him that he must break the hold. He apparently wasn’t minding his position in the ring when he applied his hold and was too close to the ropes as Fulminatus has managed to place his foot upon the bottom rope. No matter, though. Stephens releases the hold without even a five count being issued and simply rises back to his feet. The Straight Edge Sensation grabs his opponent by the hand and goes to pull him back to his feet as well, but he’s greeted with a headbutt for his troubles before Fulminatus takes off running for the ropes. He bounces off the ropes only to turn into a streaking Mike Stephens who takes him down with a well executed soccer tackle. Now thoroughly annoyed with his opponent, Toxxic simply hauls his opponent by the leg over to his own corner where Austin Sly stands with one outstretched arm, and makes the tag. With Michael still directing traffic, Austin steps into the ring and manhandles Fulminatus back up to his feet before bending his leg to a ninety degree angle and lifting him into the air. Sly holds his opponent in the air a little longer than usual before slamming him back down across Toxxic’s bent leg with a shinbreaker! Austin quickly rolls his opponent over into a single leg crab as Toxxic bounces off the ropes and delivers a dropkick to the outstretched leg of Fulminatus! “That’s going to hurt!” Mak says in sympathy as Toxxic leaves the ring under the stern gaze of Brian Warner. “It would be a shame to go to all that trouble if it wasn’t going to hurt,” King sneers, “do you think you’re dealing with amateurs here?” Austin leans back into the hold and cranks it for all he’s worth, but Fulminatus is determined to get to the ropes… unfortunately the cruiserweight isn’t going to be able to budge Sly’s 240lbs and firm grip, at least not before the Missouri native pulls his leg off. However, the Deconstruction Dynamo is able to claw his way around to face his own corner where he beckons piteously to Jimmy The Doom. The Doomtopian steps through the ropes and, before Sly realises what Toxxic’s warning gestures mean, beans the American in the back of the head. Sly stumbles forwards, the hold broken, and as Jimmy is shepherded back out of the ring by Brian Warner Fulminatus struggles back up to a vertical base. Sly turns around and lunges for him, but the New Blood Champion leaps and whirls to strike his opponent in the gut with a spinning kick! Austin staggers back and gasps, and Fulminatus follows up with another! “It is really sensible to be using a hurt leg to do that?” Mak asks as the masked wrestler hops on one foot in apparent pain. “Sense? Fulminatus?” King asks in despair. However, Fulminatus must have realised that he could perhaps be handling this better and so unleashes a Mongolian chop at Sly that strikes the bigger man with pinpoint accuracy on the nerves and tendons at the base of his neck, instantly paralysing his arms for future use… at least, that might have been the plan. In actual fact Sly just grunts, heaves in a breath and lunges for the masked wrestler with a nasty clothesline that Fulminatus only just escapes by Matrixing under into a bridge. So Sly lifts up a foot and stamps down on his opponent’s raised ribcage. *BANG!* “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “Now that’s what I call effective!” Suicide King applauds as Fulminatus makes like a cockroach (well, apart from releasing pheromones upon his death encouraging other cockroaches to breed) and weakly kicks his legs when Sly raises his boot again. The tag champion drops to make a cover, on the basis that it can’t hurt… ONE! TWO!! …but Fulminatus kicks out! Sly scoops him up off the mat and places the New Blood Champion in a front facelock before towing him over to the Rev-0 corner, where he tags in Toxxic. The Englishman vaults lightly to the top rope and Sly swiftly lifts Fulminatus up before dropping him down over one knee with a pendulum backbreaker. Austin keeps his arm locked over Fulminatus’s throat in a choke that referee Warner starts counting for… then scrambles out of the way as Toxxic comes off the top rope with a Hangover to the Revolution’s unfortunate opponent! “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” Sly smirks at the referee and steps out through the ropes as Fulminatus is crushed down to the mat, and Toxxic follows up by making a cover of his own… ONE! TWO!! …but Fulminatus kicks out again! Toxxic cocks a querying eyebrow and takes control of the masked wrestler before he can wriggle away, drags him up to his feet and Irish whips him into the ropes. Fulninatus rebounds and Toxxic drops to the mat for a drop toehold, but his opponent hurdles his legs, lands beyond him, then without looking behind him Fulminatus performs a backflip and lands on the startled Englishman with a standing moonsault! “YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” ONE! TWO!! …Toxxic gets his breath back and fires a shoulder off the mat, but the fans have come alive and Fulminatus is eager to build on his sudden success so he sits astride Toxxic’s chest and starts delivering a flurry of knife-edge chops down at the bewildered Englishman! *SMACK!* *SMACK!* *SMACK!* *SMACK!* *SMACK!* He can’t get much swing behind them from the mount, allowing Toxxic to grit his teeth, bring both his legs up to smash into Fulminatus’s back and knock the deranged madman off him, then start to scramble up. Fulminatus is a slippery devil however and runs for the ropes, then returns at high speed to deliver a running knee into Toxxic’s head! *CRACK!* “Toxxic could be out!” Mak shouts as the former World Champion collapses from an all-fours position down onto his back, “new champions! New champions!” Fulminatus dives onto the cover with a cackle of glee and Jimmy The Doom enters the ring to head off the vengeful Austin Sly… ONE! TWO!! TH- -but Toxxic kicks out! Doom and Austin start exchanging blows (Austin punching, Jimmy using palm strikes) but Jimmy comes off better as he utilizes his deadly double palm thrust to send Sly stumbling back and falling through the ropes out of the ring. “LET’S GO JIM-MY!” “LET’S GO JIM-MY!” Fulminatus has a hold of Toxxic’s head and Jimmy smacks his own forehead twice, then lowers it invitingly. Fulminatus draws back, then slaps Toxxic’s head forwards into Jimmy’s with a sickening thud! Toxxic staggers, but Jimmy does as well… and then the Englishman whirls round and flattens Fulminatus with a discus clothesline! *WHAM!* “Ha!” King shouts, “he hit it in the end!” “It’s worth remembering that Toxxic uses his head as a weapon just as often as Jimmy The Doom does,” Mak Francis points out as Stephens tries to regain his feet, “but he’s in there on his own at the moment and Jimmy looks to be setting himself for the-” *THUNK!* “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “-Snap Kick!” Mak cries as Doom’s foot takes Toxxic square in the chest and blasts him back into the ropes, from which he rebounds quickly and painfully to land more or less on his face. Jimmy grabs him, hauls him away from the cables and then covers him… …but of course he’s not the legal man, as Brian Warner is quick to remind him. The referee then starts counting, so Jimmy uses what time he has left to haul Fulminatus up, scoop him off the mat and slam him down back-first onto Toxxic before exiting the squared circle at high speed! Warner looks down and figures that with Fulminatus draped across Toxxic that’s technically a cover… ONE! TWO!! THHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH- -but Toxxic kicks out again! “THAT WAS THREE!” “THAT WAS THREE!” Fulminatus looks around woozily and realises his situation, then rolls towards Jimmy and reaches up towards the outstretched hand of his tag partner. The tag is quickly made and the Doomtopian steps into the ring with Toxxic in a bad way and Sly still picking himself up on the outside! “LET’S GO JIM-MY!” “LET’S GO JIM-MY!” Toxxic tries to rise to his feet in order to guard against a potential onslaught of the fresh man, but his effort is in vain. He takes a wild swing only to have it blocked and then countered with a headbutt that staggers him. Jimmy wraps both hands around Toxxic’s throat and lifts him in the air, holding him there for a brief second before bringing him crashing back down onto the mat with a sit-out power bomb! “Jimmy Bomb!” Mak squeals, “This could bring an abrupt end to Revolution Zero’s title reign!” “I wouldn’t count on it, Toxxic is much more tough than you give him credit for.” King smirks, “Jimmy may be a Doomtopian, but Toxxic is English. I mean, they start fights and kill each other over soccer matches. That’s way more hardcore.” Jimmy rolls over onto Toxxic for the pin as Warner comes over to make the count… ONE! TWO!! THHH- - but Austin comes diving into the ring and connects with an elbow to the back of Jimmy’s head, breaking up the count. He rolls out of the ring before drawing attention from Warner or Fulminatus. Frustrated, the Doomtopian rises to his feet with his hand latched onto Toxxic’s. Jimmy takes Toxxic’s arm and torques it back with an arm wringer as if setting up for the Doomsday, but as Jimmy goes for his first kick Toxxic shoots beneath his leg and pops back up behind him before pulling him down with a schoolboy pin! Warner once again makes the count… ONE! TWO!! … but Jimmy is able to roll his shoulders off the mat with plenty of time to spare! “You’ve got to admit, that was a pretty good move,” King pries at Mak. “That was a pretty good move by Toxxic, because if Jimmy would’ve hit his Doomsday series of kicks this match would all ready be over!” Jimmy is back to his feet first while Toxxic still lays on the mat. The match seems to be draining him now, he’s been in the ring for quite a while. If he’s going to win this one, he needs to do it soon. How’s he going to do it? Kip-up Enzuigiri!!! … with little effect on Jimmy. Crap. “Shit…” moans King. “I’ve never known someone to be able to take as much punishment to the head and neck as Jimmy can.” “I guess that’s one positive about him, right King?” “Sure, if having a head built like a brick is a positive thing.” Exhausted, Toxxic pushes himself back up and slinks to the corner turnbuckles. He leans against them facing out into the crowd with his back turned to his opponent. Jimmy casually follows him to the corner, thinking this might be his best chance. This is a mistake, though. As he approaches, Toxxic vaults himself to the top rope and launches himself up and over Jimmy, landing soundly on his feet behind him. Toxxic is on top of him before he has a chance to react, locking in a three-quarter face lock as he runs past him, climbing the turnbuckles and flipping back… “Sunny In England!” King yells. “Match over.” … using his sudden adrenaline rush, Toxxic pushes himself quickly on top of his downed opponent. ONE! TWO!! THHH- - Fulminatus comes in to make the save this time, breaking up the pin. In doing so he draws Austin Sly back into the ring who comes charging at him looking to take his head off with a clothesline! Fulminatus ducks it, though, and as Austin spins on his heels to face him he fires back with a clothesline of his own that takes both men up and over the top rope! “Damn that Fulminatus, the match should’ve been over! I call shenanigans!” Both men climb back to their feet, but Toxxic is first to pounce. “He’s going for the Caffeine Bomb! Jimmy can’t let him hit this!” Mak cautions. He is going for the Caffeine Bomb, but as Toxxic goes to hook the leg Jimmy sends a right hand sailing into his gut. Another right hand breaks Toxxic’s will, and then a third soundly breaks the hold. Toxxic tries to stagger back away from his opponent, but Jimmy wont let the limey bastard get away that easily, locking both hands around his neck again! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “Another Jimmy Bomb should put Toxxic away for good!” … Jimmy lifts Toxxic into the air as the crowd surges in anticipation, and Austin climbs into the ring behind them… “Damnit!” yells King, to no avail. *WHACK!* “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” A chop block can do wonders to stop someone’s momentum. As Jimmy was getting ready to bring Toxxic down to the mat, Austin came in from behind and took his legs right out from under him causing him to fall backwards onto the mat and for the Revolutionary that he was formerly suspending in the air to land squarely on his chest in what resembles a pin. Warner counts it… ONE! TWO!! THHH- -but Jimmy just barely gets his shoulder up! Toxxic climbs back to his feet, hauling the Doomtopian up along with him. He simply slings Jimmy over to Austin before signaling that it’s time to finish this. Sly locks in a front facelock before pulling him up into a vertical suplex - “Jimmy The Doom…” - and then drapping his legs across Toxxic’s shoulders. “… Welcome to the Revolution.” King seethes. Both men roll to their side hitting the same rolling neck breaker that put away Manson and Alexander and nearly took off Johnny Dangerous’ head after their match at Ground Zero. It’s all just mathematical now. Austin fires himself across the ring to cut off Fulminatus before he can make his way through the ropes as Toxxic simply drapes himself across the prone body of Jimmy The Doom. ONE! TWO!! THREE!!! *DING-DING-DING!* “The Winston Churchill Experience gave it their all tonight and it was almost too much for Revolution Zero to handle. If these two meet up again soon, I wouldn’t be surprised if the outcome is reversed.” “Yeah, whatever…” King sighs. “Hopefully these two disappear now.” Both Austin and Toxxic roll out of the ring to collect their belts as Fulminatus is finally allowed to enter the ring to check his partner. There is one final glimpse of the duo in the ring before we switch to a view of Revolution Zero backing up the ramp, belts in hand. We’re left with one question. How many more belts can they hold? Fade. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
chirs3 0 Report post Posted September 7, 2007 “All Fairytales must come to an end.” Those words—crudely written on a sign by a proud Louisianan fan—are prominently displayed as SWF Storm returns from its final commercial break of the evening. “-And a fairytale could be the best way to describe Alan Clark’s rise,” Mak Francis begins as the cameras shift their focus from the crowd to the announcer’s table. “It’s almost like one of the stories you’d expect from the company he sponsors – a career of never being quite good enough, only to rise above everyone who doubted you and become the Heavyweight Champion of the World.” “I hear it’s been optioned by Pixar,” King adds. “Alan and the Great Gold Belt – Russell Crowe has been rumored to lead the talented cast of voice actors.” “Somehow… It wouldn’t surprise me,” Mak returns. “However, the question for tonight is will the fairytale come to a crashing end at the hands of Johnny Dangerous? The one man that has been after our World Champion since he won the title now has his one on one shot. I don’t know about you, King, but I’m ready to see this one get started. Let’s turn this over to Funyon!” *DING DING DING!!* “Ladies and gentlemen,” booms Funyon. “The following contest is tonight’s MAIN EVENT~ and it is scheduled for ONE FALL for the SWF WORLD… HEAVYWEIGHT… CHAMPIONSHIP~!” “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!” Funyon pauses for the near obligatory pop. Once the fans settle the ring announcer continues; “Introducing first, the challenger… ” The lights darken once and the Smarktron lights up. A video displaying an image of a fuse fizzling down towards a stick of dynamite begins with the Mission Impossible theme ringing out across the arena. Finally, through all the vibrant lights and the cloud of smoke comes the Barracuda, silhouetted by the strobes with occasional flashes reflecting off his high-tech shades as he turns his head from side-to-side, looking out at his crowd! “JOHN-NY!” “JOHN-NY!” “From Las Vegas, Nevada,” booms Funyon, “and weighing in tonight at two hundred and twenty five pounds; he is JOHNNY ‘THE BARRACUDA’ DAAAANN-GGEEEEEERRRROOOUUUSSS!!” “Finally!” the ‘Franchise’ Mak Francis exclaims. “After a year of working towards a World Title match the Barracuda’s one on one opportunity is here!” “You mean after a year of floundering,” Suicide King returns disparagingly. “This match is nothing more than a way to settle contract stipulations. There is no way the Barracuda actually walks out of here with the Championship – he’s but a shell of his former self that was barely able to win the belt the first two times. Now Alan Clark… boy is he something else! He has come a long, and I mean a long ways from where he was to take his place at the top of the mountain.” “AND HIS OPPONENT… ” “Please Stand Clear Of…” the announcement fades, being replaced by the orchestral sounds of “To Die For”, an apt description if there ever was on for the championship Alan Clark wears around his own waist as he steps through the curtain with Walter Reynolds a few short strides behind. “…being accompanied to the ring by Walter Reynolds...representing Epcot’s United Kingdom Pavilion and weighing in at two-hundred-twenty-five pounds…he is the CURRENT, REIGNING, DEFENDING AND UNDISPUTED SWF WORLD… HEAVYWEIGHT… CHAMPION… AAAALAAAAAAAAAAN CLLLAAAAAAAARRRRRK!!” “AL-AN SUCKS!” “AL-AN SUCKS!” Alan makes his way towards the ring, seemingly unfazed by the verbal lashing he receives from the fans lining the isles on both sides of the walkway - not once does the huge, shit-eating grin that he proudly displays across his face, the grin that’s nearly become synonymous with his name since winning the World Championship, even look like it’s about to falter. “Just look at Alan Clark,” King says. “Tell me that’s the face of a worried man! Does he look threatened to you!?” “Well not-” “NO!” King shouts, not even giving Francis the opportunity to answer. “He’s not in the least bit concerned about any of the Barracuda’s so called vengeance or retribution for 13th Hour; he knows that he has Johnny’s number! He knows the Barracuda can’t back it up!” Alan heads into the ring as Walter Reynolds takes a seat at ringside. Alan unfastens the World Title from his waist and dangles the belt out to his side. Ronald ‘Red’ Herrington, the official for this match, takes the belt from Clark, shows it to Johnny then raises it out to the fans, letting them feast their eyes on the coveted prize before finally turning it over to a ringside assistant. “I think that’s the closest Johnny’s going to get to that belt!” snickers King. Alan shares the announcer’s sentiments. He pantomimes the title belt around his waist then points to Johnny, and scoffs at the notion of Dangerous winning it. “The arrogance,” Mak mutters, shaking his head in disgust. Johnny’s eyes narrow and he tightens his knuckles, balling up a solid fist. It’s obvious that Dangerous is ready to pounce all over Alan, and make his title reign no more than a simple afterthought. He’ll have to wait though. Before ordering the start of this match, the referee systematically checks the two men for foreign objects. Herrington ends his search with a satisfactory nod then turns towards the timekeeper and signals for the bell. *DING DING DING!!* “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!!” “Alright! This is it!” Mak happily exclaims as the crowd buzzes with excitement. It’s all smiles for Alan Clark, as usual, while the Barracuda remains rather straight-faced as he keeps his concentration on the World Champion instead of the noise of the crowd that swirls all around them. “This is for all the marbles, King! Whoever wins here tonight will not only be the World Champion, but will also main event the biggest show of the year – Genesis!” “Yeah, but after all the hateful words and actions traded back and forth between these two they have their chance to finally settle it, but nobody is moving! What gives!?” No sooner than the moment Gambling Man’s question comes forth is when they finally move in towards each other, almost simultaneously, looking for a collar-and-elbow tie up - *CRACK!* - but Johnny opts out of the technical game, and instead fires off a lighting quick, stiff punch to the World Champion’s jaw! “Ooh!” Mak shouts, as do most in attendance. Alan’s head is rocked on his shoulders from the surprisingly stiff opening shot! For the Barracuda, after all the 13th Hour double teaming he took and all the crap Alan Clark’s dished out, that felt punch felt incredibly good… and it’s just the first of many to come! “Dangerous isn’t looking to wrestle – he came here for a fight!” *CRACK!* Johnny slams a second fist into Alan’s face followed by a quick backhand, and then finishes with a spinning back-fist to send the shocked Champion to the mat! Johnny drops for a lateral press but Clark rolls back up to his feet before the referee can even think about getting down on all fours to make the count! When Alan gets back up he takes a wild swing for his opponent, a move which is mostly out of desperation to keep Dangerous back, but it’s easily dodged by Johnny. Dangerous knees Clark in the gut, forcing the wind out of Clark’s lungs and doubling him over before finishing with a clubbing double axe handle to the back of the World Champion’s neck! Dangerous grabs Alan by his arm and viciously jerks Clark to his feet like a rag doll… and this is when Alan finally connects with a punch of his own, nailing the Barracuda in the face, right between the eyes! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!” Johnny stumbles back and Alan surges forward; if the Barracuda want’s to turn this into a bar room brawl than the Happiest Guy on Earth is going to oblige! Alan lunges with another punch but this time Johnny dodges it. He counters with a forearm smash that catches Clark in the back of his head and then grabs Alan by the arm, stepping forward to whip him across the ring- -but Clark desperately digs his feet into the mat and then reverses the whip. Only instead of sending Dangerous across the ring, Alan pulls him into a stiff, short-armed lariat! *WHACK!* Clark drops down on Johnny for the cover for: ONE! But that’s all he’s going to get for now! Johnny kicks out and quickly pops up to his feet to get back on the defensive, but Clark isn’t going to just play into the Barracuda’s game of slugging it out any longer and he takes a long step back, forcing the Barracuda into another stand off. “I don’t think Alan was expecting the Barracuda to be so aggressive,” Mak suggests. Alan begins to move in a circle, beckoning the Barracuda towards him even as the crowd pleads with Johnny not to. However, Johnny’s focused on one thing right now – whooping Alan’s little orange and black stripped, Disney-loving ass! Johnny moves in and accepts Clark’s offer for a collar-and-elbow lock up, but Alan quickly breaks the tie up while grabbing his opponent’s arm and spinning around behind him for a hammerlock! Alan cranks back on the arm, but Johnny isn’t about to start handing over body parts this early on without a fight! He suddenly spins around, ripping his arm free of Alan’s grasp and nails the World Champion in the jaw with an elbow! *CRACK!* “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!!” Alan stumbles back with a hand to his jaw, feeling his lip for blood as he angrily glares at his opponent. The feeling is mutual, and Johnny stares back just as well--rather intensely in fact--while taking the half second he has to work the kink out of his shoulder. The heated moment sends a buzz through the Louisiana crowd. The cameras move in a little closer to try and get a good close up of these two men and the heated stare down. “IS THAT ALL YOU GOT!?” Clark shouts, motioning for the Barracuda to bring it. Johnny glares hard. He knows that he has to keep himself cool and focused if he wants to stay mistake free and if he wants to win this Championship. However, when Alan winks at him his eyes narrow… and he steps forward. “And it seems like the Barracuda is suffering from an impaired judgment now,” suggests King as Johnny moves back towards Clark, ostensibly reaching for another lock up. Alan graciously reaches to accept the offer when Dangerous suddenly ducks down, wrapping one arm around the Alan’s waist while swinging his back leg up and over… *CRACK!* …and nails Alan square in the face with a Scorpion Kick! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!!” Clark goes flying back into a corner post, knocked senseless! Johnny closes the gap, knowing he only has seconds to make good on this, and fires off a stiff round of right hands into Alan’s Disney-Sponsored skull! Herrington tries to push himself in between the two men while calling for a break, but the Barracuda isn’t about to concede to it just yet! He shoves the referee back out of his way before quickly spinning completely around and hammering Clark in the face with a spinning back fist to floor the Champion! *WHACK!* “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!!” The crowd goes completely wild as Alan falls limp onto the mat, and those cheers start to really get Dangerous fired up! Even with the referee following alongside him, admonishing the Barracuda for shoving him back, all Dangerous hears is the cheers of all those gathered in the arena. Johnny rips his shirt off to the appreciative shrieks of all the deprived Louisianan women and flings it into the stands as a chant of his name rings out: “JOHN-NY!” “JOHN-NY!” “JOHN-NY!” “JOHN-NY!” “Unbelievable,” Mak marvels. “Johnny Dangerous has unloaded on the World Champion. Everyone who has called him a has-been recently might be pulling their foot out of their mouth right about now, Alan Clark included.” “Dangerous might have won the opening minute, but he hasn’t come close to winning the match yet!” King shouts lividly. “You’re right about that,” agrees Francis. “Also worth mentioning is that Alan might not be in his finest form either – he has only competed in about three matches since winning the World Championship, while Johnny has competed in a truckload of matches.” “Please, you’re trying to call our World Champion rusty!?” “No, but Dangerous body just might be more conditioned!” With one hand, Alan reaches for the top rope to pull himself up while patting his lip, checking for blood. The shots have left him a little dazed, but more angered than anything. He gets all the way up to a vertical base and Johnny is stopped half way across the ring, beckoning him nearer. “COME ON, CLARK!” Johnny shouts with the cameras still picking it up. He tries to entice his opponent in, and gets more cheers from the fans for the effort. However, Alan Clark is no fool and he certainly isn’t about to rush in for Johnny Dangerous half cocked – he’ll leave that for the Barracuda. He carefully steps forward, off the ropes, making sure his dazed spell has left and once more the two start to circle each other as the noise of the crowd swirls all around them! Suddenly, Johnny feigns closing in on his opponent, but Alan isn’t buying. He stands still, readying himself for whatever hair-brained scheme the Barracuda has cooked up this time - *CRACK!* - but apparently he still doesn’t see Johnny coming with his faithful right knuckles! He clocks Alan square in the chin, rocking his head on that Disney-Sponsored neck and then swings a second time, but this time Clark is ready! He ducks down and floats around behind the Barracuda, wrapping his arms around the secret agent’s waist, looking to take him off his feet with a deadly German suplex! It never comes though, and you can thank the quick thinking of Johnny Dangerous sandbagging all his weight down as he pries Alan’s fingers off of his waist! Dangerous quickly spins around, reversing the situation on Clark and tightly grabbing around Alan’s midsection instead! “He’s got him!” shouts Francis, but before Dangerous can start the motions for his German- *CRACK!* -elbows fly backwards! Johnny ducks the first, but he isn’t as lucky with a second that catches him right in the temple to an “OOOOOH!” from the crowd, briefly stunning him, which is all Alan needs. He grabs Johnny’s arm then spins out to face his opponent while twisting, turning, striving to take Johnny’s arm into a wrench, “-and already Alan is trying to take control of Johnny’s arm,” notes Francis, “but I don’t think Johnny is about to give that arm up just yet!” “Maybe not just yet,” replies King. “However, we both know what kind of an expert Alan Clark is with working body parts into a submission. He can make you tap out from two different submissions at the same time!” “When the hell did Alan become a submission expet?” “Since he made Toxxic tap 6 months ago, that’s when!” However, Dangerous powers out before Alan can get a firm hold of the arm – spinning out of the World Champion’s grasp then swinging his leg around with a spinning heel kick! NO! Clark ducks down just enough to miss the intended kick, which whizzes just slightly past his head, and then he grabs around Johnny’s waist once more. This time Dangerous has no time to sandbag and Alan hauls him up, over, and down to the mat with a textbook German suplex! *WHAM!* Clark holds the bridge, as Suicide King marvels, “What a photo op!” and Red Herrington counts: ONE! TW-NO! Johnny gets the shoulder up and quickly rolls up to his feet. Unfortunately, Alan isn’t about to give the Barracuda any room to breathe and he grabs Johnny by the arm to send him barreling across the ring with an Irish whip! Johnny rebounds towards Clark and suddenly dives towards him with a shoulder block, flooring the World Champion before taking his turn at the three-count! ONE! TW-NO! “Clark gets the shoulder up right at two,” reports Mak. “These two are really starting to heat up that ring once more!” Alan gets back up and already, Dangerous is heading across the ring once more. Clark quickly bellies out as the Barracuda comes back towards him, hot off the ropes and Dangerous floats right over him and then continues towards the opposite side of the ring. Once more Johnny comes back off the ropes, trying to build some serious steam against his opponent, but the Disney-Freak quickly jumps back to his feet with his arm cocked back and- *SMACK!* “WHOOOOOOOOO!” *SMACK!* “WHOOOOOOOOO!” *SMACK!* “WHOOOOOOOOO!” *SMACK!* “WHOOOOOOOOO!” -unloads on the Barracuda with a series of eye-watering knife-edge ‘Cinderella Chops’, lighting up Dangerous’ tanned chest! Those chops send Johnny staggering backwards into the ropes, clutching his stinging chest and grimacing in pain as Alan takes off towards the opposite side of the ring then comes charging right back at the Secret Agent- *WHACK!* “OOOOOOOOH!!” “And Alan Clark absolutely PLASTERS Johnny in the chest with a stiff lariat, sending him tumbling over the top rope to the cold, thinly-padded concrete floor!” reports King, “that was about as brutal as having a tire iron wrapped across your chest!” “While I certainly have doubts that Alan Clark is packing that kind of a punch, he’s definitely been successful at thwarting most of the Barracuda’s offense in the past minute,” the Franchise says. “Johnny is getting himself into some dark territory here… and Alan is enjoying every minute of it.” A wide-toothed grin dresses Alan’s face as he glares down at Johnny Dangerous, struggling to gather his bearings, “-and I think Alan had forgotten the rush that comes from just completely dominating someone; stomping out what little flame of hope and desire that burns inside Johnny to regain the World Heavyweight Championship has got to be a blast,” says King. “I know I’d enjoy it.” Mak Francis just shakes his head. Alan takes off across the ring once more as Johnny reaches out for the ring apron and starts dragging himself to his feet! All the while, Herrington counts on towards the dreaded ten-count for Dangerous being on the outside of the ring. But the count looks like it will quickly come to a close - Johnny having pulled himself all the way up to his feet and- *CRACK!* Hot off running the ropes Alan races back in, drops to his posterior, and stretches both feet out and into the Barracuda’s face with a picture-perfect baseball slide! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!” Herrington admonishes Alan but he simply waves the stanch referee off and slides under the bottom rope, out of the ring, and heads towards Dangerous. Herrington restarts his count as Alan grabs Johnny by the scalp of his hair and drags him to his feet before pushing him up against the crowd barricade, and cutting loose with more chops! ONE! *SMACK!* “WHOOOOOOOOO!” TWO! *SMACK!* “WHOOOOOOOOO!” THREE! *SMACK!* “WHOOOOOOOOO!” FOUR! Alan struts away momentarily, cockily shaking off his hand and blowing on it while Johnny drops to one knee, cradling his chest. FIVE! Suddenly, Alan comes rushes back towards the Barracuda from behind and nails him in the back of the head with a running palm strike! *CRACK!* “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!” SIX! “Oh, man,” says Mak, wincing at the impact of Johnny going face-first into the floor. “Alan Clark is just terrorizing the Barracuda out there right now!” “What comes around goes around,” King replies. “Johnny’s tried to start off this match slugging Alan like this was a backyard brawl and now he’s getting it right back! Paybacks a b(Bleep!)ch!” Finally, Herrington has seen enough. He drops out of the ring and orders Alan to get Johnny back into the ring. Clark’s first reaction is that of a little surprise, but he quickly reminds himself that he can’t take a disqualification – for the sake of his own personal pride and to finally put a sock in the Barracuda’s mouth, he needs to beat Johnny decisively, in the middle of the ring. Not to mention Disney would tan his little hide for it, and so he grabs the Barracuda by his collar and heaves him into the ring, under the bottom rope, before climbing to the apron. Johnny is sprawled on the canvas face-up, not to far from where Alan stands on the outside of the ring. Obviously, this gives Clark no choice but go all out, cruiserweight style, and he reaches forward to grab the middle rope then springs to the top rope and vaults off, turning 450 degrees in midair before coming down hard on the Barracuda! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!” “What an absolutely incredible Fauntleroy by Alan Clark!” calls King. “This could be all over!” ONE!!! TWO!!! TH-NO!!!! Johnny kicks out then rolls up to his hands and knees. Alan, meanwhile, gets back to his feet and takes a step back. With Dangerous still stunned, he takes advantage by sliding forward and hitting him with a perfect sitdown dropkick to the head! Dangerous collapses again. This time, though, Alan grabs him by the arms and drags him towards a corner. “Oh, good lord,” murmurs Francis, knowing (as all the fans do) what’s about to happen. “Parkhopper coming up!” Johnny isn’t about to let himself get dragged around like a rag doll, though, so long as he can help it, anyway. He fights back, pulling his arm away from Clark before the World Champion plants a boot on Johnny’s face and scrapes it forward! Johnny grabs his face, screaming in pain as the sole of Alan’s bright orange boot grinds the skin on his face. Alan smirks, then kicks away Johnny’s hands and plants his boot on his face once again, and then once again scrapes it off! Sadistically, Alan nails a stiff toe-kick to Johnny’s chin before boot-scraping him a third time! Dangerous, still stunned from the kicks and bootscrapes, can’t put up a fight as Clark grabs his leg and looks for a spinning toe-hold! “He doesn’t look so rusty now,” says King. “He might not have been competing as much but he hasn’t stopped paying attention. Michael Alexander absolutely thrashed the Barracuda’s leg last Storm and Clark’s going to see just how well it’s healed up. If I were a gambling man and hey wait a second… I am! I’d say Johnny’s leg has got to be sore still!” Alan wrenches the toe hold, twisting at the Barracuda’s knee before stepping one foot over… “Is Alan going for a figure-four?” Francis asks. “I don’t think I’ve seen him use this before!” “Everyone uses the figure four now days,” says King sarcastically. “It’s the new ankle lock of the SWF.” As Clark steps around, he reaches for Dangerous’ free leg… only to be grabbed by the head and pulled to the mat in a small package! ONE!! TWO!!! TH-KICKOUT! Alan rolls away, but Dangerous pops back up to his feet, his eyes blazing! “Apparently he didn’t watch Johnny’s match against Michael Alexander too closely,” says Mak, “Dangerous caught the Mad Genius in several of those roll ups.” Alan seethes as he gets to his feet, only to eat a dropkick to the face that sends him staggering backwards into a corner! He tries to fight his way out, but Johnny beats him to the punch by running in and nailing him with a koppo kick! As Dangerous recovers from the somersaulting whip kick, Alan slumps into the corner, wincing in pain! “Once again Alan is losing ground to the Barracuda,” Mak reports. As Johnny gets back to his feet, he quickly mounts the bottom rope and throws a stiff kick to Alan’s thigh. Alan’s body jumps, and does so again as Dangerous throws a kick to his ribs. Finally, he leaps to the middle rope and throws a picture-perfect enzuigiri that seems to turn out Clark’s Disney-Sponsored lights! Johnny lands on his feet, and Alan staggers forward one step… and then another… and finally flops down onto his face. Inexplicably, the crowd explodes. “I have no idea why they love that so much,” deadpans King. “Eh, who’s to say what’s right or wrong in this mixed up world we live in?” asks Francis. Johnny Dangerous knows, however, that he doesn’t have time to screw around. He drops down onto the barely-conscious Clark and rolls him onto his shoulders. He makes the cover as Red Herrington counts ONE!!!! TWO!!!!! THR- NO!!!!! “Clark gets a shoulder up,” says Mak Francis, “and he avoids having to stick another zero in his win column against Johnny Dangerous.” “Oh, come on,” King spits. “Alan Clark didn’t become World Champion without learning how to out do a buffoon like Johnny Dangerous. Heck he did beat Johnny twice in route to the title – he’s got his number for a third, you just watch!” Alan rolls to his stomach. Dangerous, running on pure adrenaline, grabs him from behind and locks his hands around his stomach. Clark drops to one knee, trying to sandbag and keep his challenger from executing his German suplex… but even Clark’s sandbagging can’t keep an angry secret agent from pulling him off the mat and throwing him over his head! Clark lands on his shoulders and the back of his neck, letting out a loud exhalation as Johnny keeps his grip. He rolls through, and tries to lift Clark again. “Any minute now and Alan will make his move,” the Gambling Man continues, but Johnny has less trouble this time, and cleanly lifts Clark off the mat only to take him to his back once again with another textbook German suplex! He rolls through, and Clark’s face is clearly screwed into a mask of pain as Johnny finally gets another clean lift off the mat! With a powerful back-arch, Dangerous overcomes the fatigue and executes a third German! This time, he holds the bridge, and Red Herrington counts ONE!!!! TWO!!!!! THRE- NO!!!!!!! Clark just barely gets a shoulder up, “-and he survives another pin attempt,” says Francis, “but how much longer can he last?” Alan kneels on the mat, trying to catch his breath as his opponent refuses to let up. Keeping the pressure on, Johnny scissors Clark’s head and grabs him around the waist, prompting a cheer from the crowd! “Dangerous looks to be going for some sort of power bomb,” observes Mak. “Perhaps we’ll see an electric chair drop, which just happens to be Wild and Dangerous’ Dangerous Drop!” “He’s probably stupid enough to attempt that just as you are for even mentioning it,” spits King. “You can’t do a Dangerous Drop when your tag partner isn’t here to complete the move!” Dangerous uses every bit of his strength he has in his weakened state to lift the 225-pound Alan off the mat, normally it wouldn’t be a problem but the beating he’s taken so far as done a number on him. He lifts Clark up and then, at the height of his lift- *WHAM!* -throws him to the mat with a sickening jackknife power bomb! “OH MY GOD!” both announcers shout in unison while the censored crowd chants: “HOLY S(BLEEP!)T!” “HOLY S(BLEEP!)T!” “HOLY S(BLEEP!)T!” “HOLY S(BLEEP!)T!” “Johnny just rocked Alan Clark’s world with that one!” Mak shouts, “but he’s too winded to capitalize!” For a moment, Dangerous lies still while franticly trying to catch his breath, but then he pushes himself to go forward. He crawls towards the World Champion and then drops down over him as Herrington drops down and counts for: ONE!!! TWO!!!!!! THREE!!!!!!! NO!!!!!!! Herrington waves off the fall, pointing at Clark’s leg draped over the bottom rope! Johnny looks over and, as he sees the reason for invalidating the fall, nearly collapses. Clark, meanwhile, digs down deep and, despite his lack of energy, manages to pull himself to his feet. There’s no rest for the weary, however; Johnny Dangerous, knowing how close he is to gaining the World Heavyweight Championship back won’t let Clark recover. He grabs the Champion and whips him across the ring, into the turnbuckles. Clark slumps into the corner, but he manages to still keep his eye on the challenger. As the Barracuda charges at him, Clark quickly ducks down. Johnny makes contact, and Clark pops up into a back-body drop, then drops to his knees and slams his opponent face-first into the turnbuckles! *CRACK!* Dangerous collapses in the corner as Alan, wincing in pain, manages to work himself to his feet. Breathing hard, he seems unable to do anything. However, with a look of pain on his face, he reaches out and grabs his opponent in a full nelson. With a scream and a powerful back arch and hip pop, he lifts Johnny into a dragon suplex. At the high point of the lift, he unlocks his hands, unable to hold on for the bridge, and sends Dangerous sailing! “MALEFICENT JOURNEY~!” screams Suicide King, as Johnny crumples in a heap on his neck and shoulders, landing as if he’d been held in a bridge. Dangerous lays in his bent-up position, feet over head, shoulders down, for several seconds as Clark takes a knee halfway across the ring, his head still spinning from the jackknife. “He was too dazed to hold on for the bridge, but he could still get him! Come on, Clark!” Alan knows this match has already gone on for far too long. Dangerous has already come far too close to capturing his Championship. He needs to end this one and he needs to end it now. Alan stands. He’s a little shaky at first but he knows he can work through it and then he points to the roof! “Alan’s signaling that he’s going up top!” “Is he crazy!?” King shouts in response. “He only has a 50/50 chance of hitting something high risk! If he misses it could be disastrous!” “But if he makes it than he’ll have defeated Johnny Dangerous,” Mak counters. Alan steps out through the middle rope and then strolls to the nearest turnbuckle by way of the outside ring apron. Carefully he climbs up… …and Dangerous sees what he’s up to and suddenly rolls to his feet and bolts towards the corner! “Watch out, Alan!” Johnny quickly jams a fist into Clark’s face to stop the Champion dead in his tracks! Whatever Clark had planned on doing will hopefully have been averted for now. Alan is somewhat stunned from the Barracuda’s punch but not so much that he can’t return fire and he does just that! *SMACK!* However, Johnny isn’t fazed as much. Alan having to throw a punch while keeping his balance on the top of the ring post took a good amount of heat off his blow. Johnny reaches up, grabbing Clark by the back of his head and- *CRACK!* -slams his forehead into Alan’s, stunning the World Champion! Johnny shoots up the turnbuckle and grabs onto Clark to keep him from falling and rolls the World Champion onto his shoulders! “What the heck is he trying to do!?” King roars in disbelief as Johnny attempts to balance himself on the post while standing straight up… with Clark draped across his shoulders. When Dangerous finally stands the crowd roars in delight and moves to the edges of their seats. “SPINAL EXPLOSION!” Mak hollers. “Dangerous is about to attempt the most vicious Spinal Explosion I’ve ever seen, right off the turnbuckles!” Dangerous only considers what he’s doing for a second. A second later and he leaps off the post, somersaulting into the ring and forcing the World Champion back-first into the ring! *WHAM!* “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!” “He hit it! Oh my God! A Spinal Explosion from the turnbuckle!” Mak shouts. The crowd explodes from the hellacious hit and then watches as the Barracuda scrambles back over the World Champion and covers him, hooking the leg for added leverage! Herrington counts: ONE! TWO!! THREE!!! *DING DING DING!!* “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!” Herrington heads over to Johnny with the World Heavyweight Championship in hand. Dangerous’ music thumps from pillar to post and the entire arena is on their feet with a roaring, thunderous cheer. However, nothing makes the realization of this moment really sink in like the referee handing him the title belt and then raising his hand triumphantly! “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, HERE IS YOUR WINNER,” Funyon blasts, desperately trying to make himself heard over the crowd noise. “AND NEW SWF WORLD… HEAVYWEIGHT… CHAMPION… JOHNNY ‘THE BARRACUDA’ DAAAAAANN-GGGEEEERRRROOOOUUUSSSS!!!” “Can you believe this, King!? Johnny Dangerous is going to Genesis as the World Heavyweight Champion for a second time!” “Hopefully he’ll loose it there for a second time,” King grumbles crossly. That’s a matter for a different time. For now, it’s Johnny Dangerous’ moment. He climbs the corner post and raises the title out in both hands as thousands of flashbulbs pop from all sides of the arena… As we: FADE OUT. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
