Jump to content
TSM Forums
Sign in to follow this  
chirs3

Genesis VIII

Recommended Posts

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

The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation presents...
SWF GENESIS VIII!
Live, Wednesday, October 10th, from the University of Phoenix Stadium in Phoenix, Arizona!!
(7pm PST, 10pm EST; check local listings)
(Send all promos/marked matches to chirs3)


glendale_cardinals2.jpg

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

MAIN EVENT - SWF WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP
Johnny Dangerous © vs. Toxxic

--> ‘What Goes Around, Comes Around’.

Three years have gone around since Toxxic, the rookie phenom, leader of Revolution Zero and already a former World Champion challenged reigning World Champion Johnny Dangerous, just breaking out from tag team competition where he and Wildchild had become synonymous with great tag wrestling. On that occasion, Genesis V in the Rose Bowl, Toxxic pulled out the victory, got his revenge on the man who ended his first reign and walked away with the greatest prize in professional wrestling, the SWF World Title.

Fast-forward three years. Toxxic is again the leader of a revamped Revolution Zero, is now a four-time former World Champion and as one of the most successful wrestlers in the federation’s history is once more challenging reigning World Champion Johnny Dangerous at Genesis. Johnny’s stamped his authority on tag wrestling even more, being one-half of the most prolific tag team champions of all time, but despite his two previous World Titles he has yet to solidify his position in the main event with a lengthy run with the belt. It all comes down to this. Either Johnny stops Toxxic, makes a stand against the rampant Rev-0, proves he belongs at the top of the card and gets revenge on the man who recently took his Tag Title, or Toxxic goes on to make history and become the first five-time SWF World Champion. Either way, the SWF will have a strong champion at the helm as it enters a new chapter of its storied history.

But will that champion be English… or American?

-=-=-=-

SINGLES MATCH
Landon Maddix © vs. Tom Flesher

--> Tom Flesher’s contribution to the SWF cannot be underestimated. Two-time World Champion, twice in charge of programming, holder of more belts and awards than he can ever really know what to do with, and quite simply the best technical wrestler ever to set foot through the door. Add to that an ability to rile even the most tepid of crowds, a tendency to slap people around and, when all else fails, drop them on their heads while taking ludicrous amounts of punishment himself and you have the makings of one of the SWF’s true legends. Plus, he has Allison Onita hanging around.

However, perhaps leadership does not suit Tom as well as might be imagined. Under his watch the SWF has lost its lucrative TV deal. From Genesis VIII onwards, Storm is no more and the SWF will find itself adrift, left to survive on live shows and Pay-Per-View… if we can get it. One man has stepped up and announced himself unhappy with Tom’s leadership and the Superior One has decided to put him in his place, with the office of Commissioner on the line. But this is Landon Maddix, the man who (as he happily tells the world) retired Tom at Genesis V; can Landon do it again and send Tom packing once more, or will Flesher put a stop to the rot of Genesis V, VI and VIII to stamp his authority on the company and show that he still has something to bring to the table?

-=-=-=-

SWF CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH
The Fabulous Jakey © vs. Wildchild

--> With his partner gunning for the World Championship, the wilder half of Wild and Dangerous has decided to cash in his rematch for the Cruiserweight Championship against the Fabulous Jakey!

-=-=-=-

DAMNATION IN A BOX
"Hollywood" Spike Jenkins © vs. Dace Night

--> Oh, me.

Back in the SJL, these two had some wars. Since those days Dace joined and then led the Unholy Trinity, won the SWF ICTV and Tag Titles, got dropped on his head by a giant Maori and came close to winning the World Title on a couple of occasions. Spike, meanwhile, joined Revolution Zero, became straight-edge and then the (at the time) longest-reigning Cruiserweight Champion of all time, as well as a couple of Tag Title runs and his own shots at the World Title. He’s had some notable rivalries with people like Toxxic and Zyon, and has undergone a couple of self-imposed makeovers as he sought to improve himself.

Dace hasn’t been seen in the SWF since the beginning of 2005. Spike’s been coming and going for a while, without being able to get that much momentum behind him. His recent failure to capture the World Title from Alan Clark looked to be about it…

…but you can never run from your roots. For their own reasons, reasons that we don’t know and quite frankly, don’t need to know, Dace 'Fucking' Night and ‘Hollywood’ Spike Jenkins are back in the match that made their names. [email protected] In A Box is back, and this time it’s on the SWF’s biggest show of the year.

Hold me.

-=-=-=-

SINGLES MATCH
Chris Raynor vs. Austin Sly

--> Revolution Zero doesn't like Chris Raynor, not even a little bit. Raynor, meanwhile, just wants to be part of the fed again. What happens when you take Raynor, whose heart and bad neck make for a nervous audience every week, and put him up against Sly just as he's hitting his stride?

-=-=-=-

MATCH OF MATCHING
"The Dean of Wrestling" Jay Hawk vs. Jimmy the Doom

-->


-=-=-=-

SWF NEW BLOOD CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH
Fulminatus © vs. Luke-o vs. Michael Alexander

--> Luke-o's impressive debut run continued last Storm, and now that Genesis is upon us, the time may be right to crown a new New Blood Champion - that is, if Fulminatus doesn't mind. And I'm pretty sure he will. And the third wheel of this match is one of the most impressive guys to come down the pike in a while - Michael Alexander, who lost his initial bid for the New Blood title to the current holder, Fulminatus!

-=-=-=-

HARDCORE FOUR-WAY
Leon Sharpe vs. Akira Kaibatsu vs. MANSON vs. Insane Luchador

-->

-=-=-=-

OPENING CONTEST
Arch Griffon vs. Jesse James Sanders

-->

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

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

GENESIS GENERALLY AWESOME MEMORIES

Sponsored by Pepsi Max

 

 

--

 

Ian,his wight is 42 3/4 ponuds,4 foot tall,from Palm Bay,FL.

 

Larkin,her wight is 39 5/8,3 foot & 5 inches tall,NY.

 

DING!

 

Ian kicks Larkin.

 

Larkin kicks back.

 

Ian throws Larkin out of the ring.

 

ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FIVE! SIX! SEVEN! EIG...NO!

 

Larkin gets back into the ring.

 

Then Larkin Throws Ian out of the ring.

 

ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FIVE! SIX! SEVEN! EIGHT! NINE! TE..NO!

 

Ian gets back in the ring.

 

Ian pins Larkin.

 

ONE! TWO! THR..NO!

 

Larkin pins Ian.

 

ONE! TWO! TH...NO!

 

Larkin kicks Ian so hard.

 

Ian was hurt.

 

Ian does a Rock Bottom.

 

Ian pins Larkin.

 

ONE! TWO! THR..NO!

 

Ian does a F-5.

 

Ian pins Larkin.

 

ONE! TWO! THR..NO!

 

Ian gets out of the ring.

 

Larkin does the same thing as Ian.

 

ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FIVE! SIX! SEVEN! EIGHT! NINE! TE..NO!

 

Larkin is still out of the ring.

 

ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FIVE! SIX! SEVEN! EIGHT! NINE! TE..NO!

 

Larkin gets back in the ring.

 

Ian throws Larkin back out of the ring.

 

ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FIVE! SIX! SEVEN! EIGHT! NINE! TEN!

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

And our winner is Ian by count out!

 

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

GENESIS GENERALLY AWESOME MEMORIES

Sponsored by Pepsi Max

 

 

--

 

“OH SWEET JEBUS!!”

 

But Jebus isn’t helping Bruce tonight as the momentum of the near 300 pound monster carries him right over the edge of the escalators and sends him crashing down it as it slowly moves downwards.

 

*CRASH!*

 

Bruce bounces off the handrail after slamming into it with his arm hand jammed between him and the metal.

 

“Oh my god”

 

*POW!*

 

Bruce’s boots slip on the metal sending him down on his ass hard. On the 2nd floor Johnson is looking down the escalator to make sure that this isn’t another one of Bruce’s tricks.

 

“Help me”

 

Bruce flips forward over on one of the steps and then smacks down face and chest first against the metal stairs.

 

*SPLAT!!*

 

And then he just lies there as the escalator’s downward motion carries Bruce to the ground floor of FAO Schwarz and deposits him on the floor not far from the huge clock tower. Johnson looks at the clock tower, then he looks at Bruce. Johnson slowly begins to walk towards the clock tower as a roar is heard from outside the store.

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!!!

 

Johnson is surprised to see a horde of fans outside FAO Schwarz, pressing their faces against the glass to get a front row view of the Hardcore battle playing out inside. After shaking off the surprise he climbs over the banister and onto the 2nd level of the 3 story tall clock tower. He looks at Bruce who’s on his knees slowly getting up. He waits a moment to make sure Bruce is in the ring position.

 

Then he takes a running start and leaps off the 2nd story about 20 feet up in the air

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!!!

 

The crowd goes nuts as J.J. Johnson flies through the air straight for the still dazed and blood soaked Bruce

 

Lining up perfectly for a cross body block.

 

*SPLAT!!*

 

Bruce manages to grab J.J. Johnson as he comes off the clock tower. Then he uses the momentum from the jump to land a huge power bomb right into the water fountain in the lobby.

 

*SPLASH!!!*

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!

 

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

As the cameras focus once more on the ring in the University of Phoenix Stadium, the low rumble from the crowd crescendos to a roar. Mak Francis and the Suicide King almost have to shout into their microphones to make themselves heard.

 

“Well, King, it’s been a great show so far, and our next match is the first title defense of the night, as Fulminatus defends against newcomer Luke-o and Michael Alexander!”

 

“That’s right, Francis, and now, we will finally get to see the New Blood Championship reach its full potential when Michael Alexander takes it off that masked idiot’s carcass!” King beams.

 

“Aren’t you forgetting Luke-o? From what he’s shown us so far, he’s no one to be trifled with. He’s the wild card here; Fulminatus and Alexander have met before, but neither has gone up against Luke-o,” Mak points out.

 

“Look, the kid has shown some promise, but let’s face it…Michael Alexander has come within a hair’s breadth of beating both Toxxic and Johnny Dangerous within the last month and a half, and those two are the top of the company right now. Luke-o’s kind of out of his league there. And as for Fulminatus…well, the last time he met Alexander he got his head planted into the mat with a brutal top-rope DDT, and the time before that he tapped out. This match is really a foregone conclusion,” King proclaims.

 

“Aren’t you forgetting that Fulminatus beat Alexander to get the title, King?”

 

“A fluke! The result of a ridiculous gimmick match gone wrong! Fulminatus tapped out in that match, dammit!”

 

“And still went on to win the title. That’s still eating you up inside, isn’t it, King?”

 

King snarls something as he covers his mike surrepticiously.

 

Mak smiles. “Well, here comes Funyon to start things up!”

 

Funyon maneuvers his bulk into the ring, and raises the microphone at the show that will hopefully help him pay off his room service bill. “Ladies and Gentlemen,” he drawls, “the next match will be a triple threat match for the SWF New Blood Championship! First, the challengers…now entering the arena, from London, England…weighing in at 210 pounds…Luke-o!”

 

The Guitar Synth intro of Hadouken!'s "Liquid Lives" begins as the lights drop down. As the rest of the band kicks in the lights come up to a set of pyro on the stage with a loud crack! The young Brit comes down the ring high-fiving the crowd as he comes. The crowd responds enthusiastically.

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAH!”

 

Luke-o hops into the ring just in time for the first chorus, going round each turnbuckle raising his hands to the crowd. After finishing his turnbuckle round, he struts to the center of the ring and poses as though basking in the cheers of the crowd as the chorus rings out over the speakers.

 

"I want to drink, drink, drink, smoke, fuck, fight! I want to shout and scream! I wanna die! I want to be arrested, I want to be molested! My heads in pain, next weekend let's do it again!"

 

The chorus ends with a bang as the ringposts erupt with a thunderous burst of pyro. Luke-o smiles rakishly as he walks over the corner again and perches on the top turnbuckle and awaits his opponents.

 

“This guy doesn’t lack confidence, I’ll say that for him,” King remarks. “Not necessarily well-founded in this match, but good to have.”

 

“Given Luke-o’s record so far in the SWF, I think he’s got something to be cocky about, King.”

 

King snorts. “His record against who? The stumblebum undercard? He’s in with the big boys now, and he better know how to back up that attitude.”

 

“Dread Rock” by Paul Oakenfold begins to play, and the a video montage of Alexander’s previous in-ring exploits interspersed with Da Vinci’s “Vitruvian Man” highlighting the areas that the various moves depicted injure on his opponents. The lights in the arena flicker in time with the Smarktron.

 

Funyon blares. “And the second challenger, from Greenville, South Carolina…weighing in at 221 pounds…the Mad Scientist of the Mat…MIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIICHAEL AAAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLEXXXXXXXANDER!”

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

Alexander steps out onto the stage, and the flicker lighting stops dead. He gazes out over the crowd, smirks, and makes his way to the ring, trash-talking to the crowd. He rolls into the ring, taking up a position in his corner and stretch, adjusting his boots, apparently disinterested in Luke-o or the crowd, while smirking to himself. Luke-o scowls a little, but Alexander pointedly ignores him.

 

“Alexander seems as cocky as ever, King. Even after his recent losses to Toxxic and Dangerous, arrogance just oozes off this guy.”

 

“Hah! Both of those were very close matches, Francis. Damn fine performance for a guy who’s been in the SWF for less than a year. And a loss to the current world champion and the future world champion still puts him lightyears ahead of these two. How could he not be confident?”

 

Funyon pumps up for his final introduction for the match. “And the SWF New Blood Champion…from…er…Everywhere…weighing in at 190 pounds…FUUUUUUUUUUULMINAAAAAAAAAAAATUS!”

 

The lights flicker out and the arena is silent for a moment or two but the moment or two is soon shattered by a loud explosion of sparks at the entrance. The grating riff of “Inna-Gadda-Da-Vida” rocks the loudspeakers and through the smoke Fulminatus wanders out, weaving his way down the ramp. He is wearing the belt around his head, like a hood. The crowd roars!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

 

Fulminatus looks at the crowd as he meanders down the ramp, alternatively shaking hands with various fans, bowing solemnly to others, and running shrieking away from others, in no discernable pattern.

 

“Well, we’re three for three. Luke-o is still way more cocky than he has a right to be, Alexander is justifiably confident, and Fulminatus is still bat-shit crazy. Check, check, and big check!” King grumbles.

 

“You forgot that Fulminatus is also still champion. That’s another check.” Mak says.

 

King growls. “Alright, Fulminatus still disgracing the SWF’s newest title? CHECK.”

 

Finally, the Cruiserweight Chaos Engine clambers into the ring, letting Referee Brock Samson remove the New Blood Championship from his head. Samson snarls for the bell as he hands the belt to the ringside personnel and Funyon barrels his way out of the ring as the bell tolls.

 

DING! DING!

 

Michael Alexander eyes his two opponents appraisingly. Luke-o, however, wastes no time, goes straight at Alexander, firing a series of stiff right hands. Fulminatus looks on, a little confused, as his two challengers go at it. Luke-o backs Alexander into the ropes, grabs the stunned Mad Scientist and whips him into the ropes. The Englishman leaps up for a hurricanrana, and flips Alexander over smoothly…but the Mad Scientist holds on to Luke-o’s legs, pulling the young Brit down into a sunset roll-up! Brock Samson drops to count!

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

NO!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

 

King happily chirps, “See, Francis? Just that quickly, Alexander can turn your own move into his own pinning combination! I’m telling you, this is a foregone conclusion.”

 

“Look, King, no one is disputing that Alexander’s a huge talent, just his attitude.”

 

Luke-o claps his legs around Alexander’s head, breaking off the pin. Both men roll apart, staring at each other, and then notice that Fulminatus is staring at them, scratching his head. Alexander’s face darkens with fury and he charges at Fulminatus, firing a series of forearms into the Deconstruction Dynamo’s head.

 

“Alexander and Luke-o finally noticed that Fulminatus was just standing there; that guy really is nuts, Francis, and I hope Alexander beats him to a pulp here.”

 

“King, looks to me like there was a method to his madness…he was letting his opponents go after each other while he rests.”

 

“Hah! That assumes that Fulminatus is capable of planning and logic.”

 

“You underestimate Fulminatus too much, King.”

 

Alexander then whips Fulminatus into the ropes, but as he prepares to catch the masked man, he instead catches Luke-o’s foot as the lightning-quick Londoner catches him with a running spinning wheel kick while he was going after Fulminatus. Alexander collapses to the mat.

 

“Luke-o gets back into the match in a big way with that brutal kick to Michael’s head. He dropped Alexander like a bad habit there,” Mak says.

 

“If he was smart, the kid would have laid low and waited for an opportunity to sneak a pin,” King chides.

 

“Like Fulminatus was waiting earlier?”

 

Fulminatus, meanwhile continues to bounce between the ropes, an expression of utter bliss on what can be seen of his face. Luke-o just stares at the Cruiserweight Chaos Engine, dumbfounded for a moment.

 

“You were implying that Fulminatus wasn’t just batshit crazy, Francis?”

 

“Well…uhm…touche, King.”

 

The Evil Genius smartly takes advantage of his opponents’ distraction to roll out of the ring to recover. The crowd disapproves, and is not shy about expressing it.

 

“YOU SUCK!”

 

“YOU SUCK!”

 

Referee Brock Samson begins his count, as Fulminatus happily continues his ricocheting and Luke-o looks alternatively frustrated and flummoxed.

 

One…

Two…

Three…

Four…

 

“See, Francis? Alexander is playing it right here, giving himself a breather.”

 

As Alexander takes a moment on the outside, Luke-o decides to take a swing at the champion, and does so with a big right hand...which Fulminatus stumbles under nonchalantly and continues his perambulation. This does nothing to improve the Englishman’s mood, and he growls as he bends down to try and backdrop the rebounding Chaos Engine. Fulminatus executes a forward roll over Luke-o’s back, then leaps into the ropes, and as the young Brit turns around for another shot at Fulmie, the Deconstruction Dynamo leaps backward with a springboard back elbow that cracks Luke-o’s jaw!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

 

“And the young hothead lets his temper get the better of him, and he pays for it as Fulminatus connects with an unorthodox elbow smash!” Mak exclaims.

 

“Well, the kid needs to learn somehow. And the business end of an elbow can be an excellent teacher,” King observes.

 

The Englishman drops to the mat as much in surprise as from the damage from the move. Fulminatus kips up and bounces off the ropes again, delivering a corkscrew senton splash to the stunned Brit. Almost by accident it seems, this puts Fulmie into a pinning position, and even if Fulminatus doesn’t necessarily notice that, Brock Samson does, and goes for the count!

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

NO!

 

Just before the damning count, Luke-o kicks out with a snarl.

 

“Whoa! Close call there for Luke-o!” Mak laughs.

 

“If this kid can be outsmarted by a wacko like Fulminatus, he may not be long for the SWF, Francis,” King snorts.

 

“Fulminatus has gotten some impressive wins under his belt, King. He’s a force to be reckoned with, revealed by the fact that he’s coming into this match as the champion.”

 

The Londoner rolls over to go after the champion again, just in time to see Fulminatus run into the ropes yet again, only to have his feet yanked out from under him by Michael Alexander, who follows thus up by dragging the masked man out of the ring, earning a growl of warning from Referee Brock Samson. The Mad Scientist pays no attention to the ref’s admonishments, though, as he begins pummeling Fulminatus with a series of alternating forearms and elbow shots. Fulmie is staggered, and Alexander is focused on punishing the masked man.

 

“Alexander taking advantage of the situation, going after the champion here!” King yelps gleefully. “Luke-o should watch and learn, Francis!”

 

“I don’t think that’s what he’s got in mind, King…”

 

Luke-o, perhaps feeling left out, bounces off the ropes himself, dashes across the ring, and plunges between the ropes to execute a double elbow suicide dive on Fulmie and Alexander!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

 

All three men crash to the floor, with even Luke-o a little stunned by his own maneuver. Referee Brock Samson snarls at them to get back in the ring, and begins to count all three men out.

 

“Luke-o with a great suicide double elbow shot! He connected with both men!” Mak yells enthusiastically.

 

“Yeah, but he put himself down too. Doesn’t do you much good if you’re on the floor along with your opponents,” King snorts.

 

Meanwhile, Luke-o has made his way back up to his feet, and goes to work on Michael Alexander, who has dragged himself up to his knees. The angry young Brit kicks the Evil Genius in the gut repeatedly until his opponent collapses back to the floor. He then turns around to take down Fulminatus, and discovers that the masked man’s recuperative powers are nothing to be sneezed at, as the Cruiserweight Chaos Engine hits the surprised Englishman with a Mongolian chop that drops him to his knees. Fulmie then hits with basement dropkick to Luke-o’s gut. Luke-o doubles over with a gasp as the air is driven out of his lungs.

 

“Looks like Fulminatus is getting the best of this exchange,” Mak observes.

 

“Come on, Ref, get that nut back in the ring!”

 

One…

Two…

Three…

Four…

Five…

Six…

 

Fulminatus rolls back into the ring. Alexander pulls himself back up to his feet using the guardrail, and Luke-o is not far behind him. Fulmie, meanwhile, slides back out of the ring, breaking the count, but he exits on the other side of the ring. Ignoring the snarling admonitions of Samson, the Deconstruction Dynamo leaps up onto the guardrail, and charges around atop it, heading straight for his opponents. Samson begins his count again.

 

One…

Two…

Three…

Four…

Five…

 

He springs off the guardrail onto the shoulders of the Mad Scientist, in position for a spinning hurricanrana…or would be, had not Alexander anticipated this attempt, and dropped Fulmie into a brutal sitout powerbomb on the floor!

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“Fulminatus went for a big hurricanrana, but Alexander caught him with that brutal powerbomb instead!” Mak shouts. “That could be it for Fulminatus!”

 

“Good riddance!” King snarls.

 

Luke-o chooses this moment to capitalize on the situation by spin kicking the seated Mad Scientist in the face. The Londoner hoists Fulminatus up and quickly shoves the stunned champion back into the ring.

 

“Looks like Luke-o is taking your advice and capitalizing on his opponents’ work, King.”

 

“He’d do well if he does. Unfortunately, I still don’t see him really hanging with Alexander here. Anyone can get lucky.”

 

Alexander slowly drags himself back to his feet as his two opponents return to the ring.

 

Six…

Seven…

Eight…

 

Alexander rolls back into the ring, just as Luke-o drags the champ back to his feet. The angry Brit then leaps up to crack Fulmie in the head with a vicious standing enzuigiri. The champion collapses in a heap and the lightning-quick Londoner goes for a quick pin! The ref drops for the count!

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

NO!

 

The pin is broken by a basement dropkick to Luke-o’s head by Michael Alexander, which rolls the youngster off of Fulminatus.

 

“Luke-o almost had it there!” Mak yells.

 

“Not while Alexander’s still in this match, Francis. Now Alexander’s going for it!”

 

Alexander follows this up with a scramble onto the fallen champion to go for a pin himself!

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THR--!

 

NO!

 

Fulminatus kicks out at the last instant! Alexander looks at the referee holding up two fingers, and is utterly incredulous. The crowd cheers and begins a chant for their champion!

 

“FUL-MIN-AT-US!”

 

“FUL-MIN-AT-US!”

 

“I can’t believe he kicked out! And I really can’t believe people are chanting for this idiot!” King says disgustedly.

 

“Fulminatus is one tough customer, King. He’s proven that time and time again. This shouldn’t surprise you.”

 

“I guess you’re right, Francis…I mean, he did just kick Fulminatus in the head. No real damage could be done to him that way.”

 

The Mad Scientist pounds the mat in fury. He then pulls the groggy Dynamo back to his feet, then hoists him up into a body-slam position, then spins Fulmie around into a Rock Bottom, but instead of planting him on the mat, Alexander drops the Chaos Engine across his knee in his Foucault’s Pendulum backbreaker!

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

As Fulminatus rolls away, bowing his back in pain, Alexander rises to his feet and turns to look for Luke-o. Unfortunately for the Evil Genius, the Englishman has ascended the turnbuckle in the interim, and flips off the top rope, landing on Alexander’s shoulders and flipping both himself and the Mad Scientist down to the mat with a spectacular Dragonrana! Luke-o hooks Alexander’s right leg for a pin!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!”

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

NO!

 

Alexander kicks out in a fury.

 

“Luke-o connects with Dragonrana! So close! Alexander nearly lost this match and the title right there!” Mak shouts.

 

“No way that was going to happen, Francis!” King growls hoarsely.

 

He scrambles around and he and Luke-o get into an angry slugfest, which the scrapper from the streets of London definitely gets the better end of. Luke-o bulls the staggering Mad Scientist into the nearby corner and whips Alexander across the ring into the opposite corner. The Englishman then charges into the corner and flips forward to deliver a spinning wheel kick…but Alexander drops out of the way just in time, allowing Luke-o to crash into the corner. The Evil Genius doesn’t get a chance to take advantage of Luke-o’s predicament, as Fulminatus charges in, delivering a running knee to Alexander’s head!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

 

The force of the knee sends Alexander careening through the ropes and to the outside once again. This leaves Fulmie to focus on the young Brit, who is slowly trying to recover from his impact with the turnbuckle.

 

“Good dodge by Alexander, but he let Fulminatus get the drop on him with that knee to the head,” Mak observes.

 

“Well, even Alexander can only focus on one opponent at a time. That’s one of the dangers of this kind of match, and it catches everyone once in a while. Michael’s still coming out of this with that title, Francis.”

 

The Cruiserweight Chaos Engine grabs Luke-o and drills him with a headbutt, staggering the Englishman. Fulminatus follows this up with a series of knife-edge chops to Luke-o’s chest that draws a not-unfamiliar response from the crowd.

 

“WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

The Londoner holds his chest in pain, and Fulminatus tries to irish whip him into the opposite turnbuckle…but Luke-o reveres the whip, sending Fulmie into the turnbuckle instead! As Fulmie staggers out of the corner, Luke-o twists the Chaos Engine’s right arm into an arm wringer, bending him over, and the Londoner hooks his own leg over the back of the champ’s neck, whipping him down to the mat with the Luke-O-verdrive! Luke-o gets back up and points to the turnbuckle, drawing a howl from the crowd!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

 

“Luke-o connects with his Luke-O-verdrive! You know what comes next, King!”

 

“Well, judging by his posturing, Francis, I’m guessing he’s going for that leg drop of his.”

 

Luke-o ascends the turnbuckle, pointing out over the crowd. However, the young Brit has forgotten about Michael Alexander. Unfortunately for Luke-o, the Evil Genius has not forgotten about his opponents. Just as the Londoner perches on top turnbuckle, Alexander leaps up to the apron and clips Luke-o, dropping him into an uncomfortably intimate encounter with the top turnbuckle!

 

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“Now, if he had just gone for the leg drop instead of posturing for this crowd of idiots, he might have avoided that…incident, Francis,” King winces involuntarily.

 

“Well…I can’t argue with that, King. He left himself open, and Alexander caught him.”

 

Alexander grins wickedly as he returns to the ring. As Luke-o gasps in pain, Alexander ascends the turnbuckle and hooks in the Englishman for what looks like a superplex. However, Fulminatus leaps up onto the turnbuckle himself, cracking Alexander in the back of the head with a couple of forearms. Fulmie then grabs Alexander and delivers a super backdrop suplex!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

 

“Fulminatus surprises Alexander with a backdrop suplex off the top! It’s not looking good for the Mad Scientist, King!”

 

“Dammit, Michael, get up! You can’t let that psychotic nut walk out with that title again!”

 

The Evil Genius and Fulmie crash to the mat. Both men lie still. Luke-o forces himself back up to a crouch on the top turnbuckle. His face still contorted in pain, he launches himself into his shooting star leg drop crashing down exactly where Fulminatus was only an instant before! Luke-o howls in pain as he crashes to the mat. Fulmie pulls himself up to his feet once again, and lifts Michael Alexander to his very shaky feet, whipping Alexander into the turnbuckle. The Deconstruction Dynamo the charges headfirst at the Mad Scientist for his Spear of St. Gulik, but Alexander dodges, sending Fulmie crashing headfirst into the ringpost.

 

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“Hah!” King gasps in relief. “Alexander comes out on top again! And Fulminatus bashes his own head in!”

 

“It’s certainly not looking good for Fulminatus here, King,” Mak laments. “He may have given himself a concussion or worse.”

 

The Evil Genius then goes after Luke-o, who is slowly recovering from his missed leg drop. Alexander tosses the smaller man out over the top rope, sending Luke-o crashing to the floor. The Mad Scientists smiles evilly as he turns back to Fulmie, who is still draped over the turnbuckle. Alexander drags Fulminatus off of the turnbuckle. He then lifts the Chaos Engine up into a backdrop suplex position, and spins around, dropping Fulmie into a Blue Thunder Bomb! Samson drops to count the pin…!

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“He tossed Luke-o out, and he hit Fulminatus with the Event Horizon!”

 

“YES! Now, count, Ref! Quick, quick, quick!” King shrieks.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

Alexander smiles as his hand is raised and Funyon announces, “Here’s your winner…and NEW SWF NEW BLOOD CHAMPION…MMMMMMMMMMMMMICHAEL AAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLEXAAAAAAAAAAAANDER!”

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

As Brock Samson grudgingly hands him the belt, the Evil Genius raises it high over his head, a gloating rictus etched across his face.

 

“Alexander won it! He won it! The New Blood Title has been saved, Francis! We no longer have to be embarrassed by that weirdo Fulminatus!”

 

“Alexander won a hard-fought victory, King, but it could have very easily gone differently…Michael Alexander got past Fulminatus and Luke-o this time, but if this match teaches us anything, it’s that any one of these guys could have walked out with the belt.”

 

“Sure, Francis, if that makes you feel better. I told you Alexander was walking out with this belt. Those two gave it their best shot, but Michael Alexander was just better.”

 

He basks in the jeers of the crowd for a moment before he straps the belt around his waist. Alexander rolls out of the ring and laughs as he hobbles up the ramp, trying not to favor his back and ribs.

 

“No matter what your opinion of Michael Alexander, you’ve got to acknowledge the effort he put forth tonight was definitely worthy of that title.”

 

“He was worthy of that title before he set foot in that ring tonight, Francis! He was robbed that last time he fought for the title, and tonight he proved that the first match with Fulminatus was a complete fluke!”

 

Fulminatus looks a little confused, and Luke-o is scowling as we…

 

FADE OUT.

 

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

GENESIS GENERALLY AWESOME MEMORIES

Sponsored by Pepsi Max

 

 

--

 

“Wow,” Riley says with interest, “we invest in some damn good glass, don’t we?”

 

Raynor growls and takes Edwin by his hair again, looking for a third shot, when Edwin fires a quick elbow into the ex-Carny’s stomach! Raynor is stunned, and a second and third elbow gets Edwin free! He drags a few feet away from the I, then hooks his arm and tights!

 

“Ohhhh boy - this is Edwin’s setup for the Union Jack! Corkscrew Brainbuster, coming up-”

 

Edwin puuuulls and gets Raynor up!

 

 

 

About a foot off the ground…

 

Raynor falls back down, and he works his arms free and grabs Edwin from behind his knees! Edwin falls back, his head crashing against the metal stage floor, and Raynor gets between MacPhisto’s legs and tightens his grip!

 

“Edwin, Edwin Edwin get out of there Edwin-”

 

“DO IT, RAYNOR!”

 

Pausing to spit another mouthful of blood off to the side, Raynor looks out at the crowd… the thousands and thousands, waving Edwin MacPhisto signs… wearing Edwin MacPhisto T-Shirts… chanting Edwin MacPhisto chants…

 

 

 

 

Edwin MacPhisto…

 

 

 

 

Edwin Mac-Goddamned-Phisto…

 

 

 

 

Fuck you, Edwin.

 

Raynor rolls back and LAUNCHES EDWIN INTO-

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

*CRAAAAASH*

 

-AND THROUGH THE I! THE TWENTY FOOT TALL TOWER SHATTERS FROM TOP TO BOTTOM, AND EDWIN IS COVERED IN THE FALLING GLASS!

 

“HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT!”

 

There is now a gaping hole between the S’s in the Genesis set - only the silver metal frame of the I remains, and at the bottom, like the dot on an exclamation point, lies Edwin MacPhisto, a bloody bloody mess. Raynor has collapsed right next to Edwin, touching his mouth, and grimacing at the sight of blood… he grabs the metal I frame with both hands and tries to pull himself up. He makes it to one knee, then falls back over, and lands sitting on the stage. He picks his head up, and sees Edwin covered in shards of glass…

 

… and he smiles.

 

… and he laughs.

 

“… say something, Mark!”

 

GENESIS GENERALLY AWESOME MEMORIES

Sponsored by Pepsi Max

 

 

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

FADE IN

 

Wildchild and Johnny Dangerous are seen talking backstage near their dressing room:

 

“So, have you guys set a date yet?” asks Johnny.

 

“We’re planning on next July,” replies WC. “On de anniversary of when we first met.”

 

“Aww!” Johnny teases his best friend. “You’re so totally whipped!”

 

“An’ I’m lovin’ every minute of it, too!” replies LeCroix. “Actually… dere is somet’in’ I’m a little worried about.”

 

“What’s that?”

 

“Missy wants Ejiro to be involved in de wedding,” says Wildchild. “An… well, we haven’t exactly buried de hatchet; when she first brought me home, I was worried dat I wasn’t gon’ make it out of dere!”

 

“Hah!” snorts Johnny. “Maybe he’ll bring Hearford with him, and we’ll finally get the rematch we’ve been waiting on! So… are you ready for tonight?”

 

“It’s in de bag, man,” replies WC. “I own dis kid; I’m gon’ get my belt back, no problem! How ‘bout…”

 

Not noticing that is teammate’s voice trailed off at the end, Johnny just picks up on the conversation. “How about me? I’m feeling good, man! I mean, I feel like I’ve got something to prove from the last time I faced Toxxic, but I think this time, it’s going to be different; this time, I…” Johnny finally notices that WC stopped talking because something else had captured his attention; he turns around, and finds himself face-to-face with the former enforcer of the Wild and Dangerous Nights, Dace Night himself.

 

“Dace,” Johnny says coolly. “It’s been a while.”

 

“Fellas,” Dace replies, somewhat awkwardly.

 

“Glad t’see you back, Dace,” says WC enthusiastically. “You’ve been missed, man!”

 

“Thanks, ‘Nic,” replies Dace, somewhat more relaxed. “I’ve missed being here… And congratulations on the engagement, man! Thanks for the invitation!”

 

“Anytime, bro!” Wildchild says with his trademark grin. “No way I wasn’ gon’ t’invite one of my oldest friends… Hey, are you just back here for Genesis, or are you sticking around?”

 

“I’m still thinking it over,” replies Dace. “We’ll see how things go tonight.”

 

“Well, I know dat if you do stick around, you’re probably comin’ back t’take care of business… Maybe go after dis here,” says WC, gesturing towards Johnny’s World Heavyweight Championship. “But, maybe we can all team up one last time, for old time’s sake?”

 

“I’ll give you a call, ‘Nic,” replies Dace. “And Johnny, good luck tonight; hopefully, if I do stick around, you will be the guy I’m going after for that belt.”

 

“Looking forward to it,” replies Johnny with a smirk. “And good luck against Jenkins tonight; don’t get too crazy with that damned weedwhacker!”

 

With a final nod, Dace continues on his way; Wild and Dangerous watch their former partner round the corner…

 

 

As we

FADE OUT

 

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

GENESIS GENERALLY AWESOME MEMORIES

Sponsored by Pepsi Max

 

 

--

 

(Funyon) – THE WINNER OF THE MATCH…DACE “HORRORCORE” NIIIIIIGGGGHHHHTTTTT!! AND YOUR NEW SMARTMARKS WRESTLING FEDERATION COMMISSIONER…”GRAND SLAM” MAAAAARRRRRKKKKKKK SSSTTTTEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEVVVENNSSSSSSSS!!!

 

(Comet) – Perfect!! Absolutely perfect!!! Dace Night!! What heart!! What determination!! And he did it…

 

(Riley) – He sure did!! But what about Bastion?? He destroyed Mark’s knee…destroyed his own brother…and destroyed the Suicide King!!

 

(Comet) – Yeah…AND DACE NIGHT TOOK HIM OUT!! WAIT! NO!!

 

 

 

“Christraping” by Black Metal hits the speakers as Dace finally gets to his feet and throws his hands in the air in celebration. He looks at Mark, but instead of seeing an elated new commissioner, he sees a wide-eyed Mark Stevens who is trying to gasp for the warning to Dace. Dace Night turns around…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…and gets a boot to the gut!

 

(Comet) – OH COME ON!!!

 

Bastion grabs the doubled Dace Night, and thrusts him into a standing head scissors. The fans begin to boo like mad as Bastion grabs him up by the waist, flips him up, and then…

 

BAM!!

 

…brings him down with a powerbomb…

 

BAM!!

 

…followed by a second powerbomb…

 

KA-BAM!!!

 

…followed by a huge Jacknife Powerbomb that folds Dace up like an accordion!!

 

(Riley) – This is freaking ridiculous!!! That animal!! That monster!!

 

(Comet) – How did he even get up? He got killed by those chairshots! How is he even up?!?

 

The fans scream for Bastion’s blood as he stands over the fallen winner of the match. He looks around the ring and sees everyone laid out and smiles. He notices that Mark is sitting up against the ropes, but doesn’t attack him. Instead, Bastion grabs his own knee and starts to laugh!

 

(Comet) – What a sick human being!!! What a despicable, vile monster!! He has caused more damage here tonight than anyone I can remember!!

 

Bastion walks to the near side ropes as “Who We Be” hits the speakers, replacing Dace’s music, and he drops down, rolls under the bottom rope, and heads back towards the backstage area.

 

(Comet) – BUT! DACE NIGHT HAS WON THIS MATCH, AND THAT MEANS THAT MARK STEVENS IS NOW THE COMMISSIONER OF THE SWF!! HIS FIRST MOVE WILL BE TO TERMINATE BASTION!! THE SWF WILL FINALLY BE A FAIR, FUN, AND EXCITING PLACE TO WORK!!!

 

Bastion smiles as the fans boo him, and he soon disappears to the back. The camera pans the carnage in the ring, and finally lands on a teary-eyed, but happy “Grand Slam” Mark Stevens.

 

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

FADE IN

 

"Just about five months ago, the Fabulous Jakey scored what has to be considered a major upset over the Wildchild to become the World Cruiserweight Champion," say Mak Francis. "Wildchild put his rematch on the back burner in order to pursue the Tag Team Titles with Johnny Dangerous… But now, with Johnny defending the Heavyweight Title in the main event, the Bahama Bomber has decided to cash in on his rematch. Tonight he gets a chance to enter rarefied air, and do something that only one other individual has accomplished, and that's win a singles' title on five different occasions!"

 

"That's a little misleading, Francis," says the Suicide King. "First of all, you're putting the cart before the horse; he hasn't won it yet. And second of all, even IF he regains the World Cruiserweight Championship, and joins Mags as a five-time champion, that club is going to have a third member in about an hour, because I can just about guarantee you that Toxxic is going to end our long worldwide nightmare by putting Johnny Dangerous' championship reign to a merciful end… and it can't happen fast enough, in my opinion!"

 

"Now who's putting the cart before the horse?" teases Mak. "I think even you have to admit, though, that Wildchild is the prohibitive favorite in this match."

 

"Well, Lord knows that I don't like to give that little spot monkey credit for anything," says King, "but if he brings his a-game tonight, Jakey's going to have to pull out all the stops in order for him to leave this arena tonight still the World Cruiserweight Champion. But Jakey's proven himself to be a crafty individual; I wouldn't put anything past him!"

 

"I tell you what, King," says Mak. "This has been a magical evening! As we prepare to move forward into a new era in the SWF, we've be privileged to have some of our brightest stars come by to pay their respects… including this legendary star!"

 

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

 

"Ladies and gentlemen," booms Funyon, before our next match, please recognize SWF Hall of Famer and five-time former Light-Heavyweight Champion of the World… ELLLL LUUUUUCHADORE MAAAAAGNIIIIIFICO!" Sixty-eight thousand fans rise in unison to pay their respects to the Magnificent One, who rises from his ringside seat and salutes them in acknowledgement.

 

 

MAGS!

MAGS!

MAGS!

MAGS!

 

 

"Ladies and gentlemen," shouts Mak, trying to be heard over the still applauding crowd, "you're looking at one of the best who ever did it!"

 

"Positively!" agrees King. "Five-time Light-heavyweight Champion of the World… Four-time World Heavyweight Champion. And, I tell you what, when you look at the combined history of the Light-Heavyweight Championship and the Cruiserweight Championship… you want to talk about rarefied air, let's talk about the list of people that have been multiple-time Light-Heavyweight or Cruiserweight Champion AND multiple time Heavyweight Champion: You've got Mags…"

 

"Flesher," continues Mak.

 

"And that's it!" exclaims King, as Mags returns to his seat. "That's the list! Mags is virtually peerless in this business, and it's an insult to his legacy to imply that a jerk like Wildchild deserves to even be mentioned in the same sentence!"

 

With that, the arena goes dark, and an electric squeal rips through the speakers:

 

 

ATTENTION!

 

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

"ALL YOU NIGGAS!

 

"ALL YOU BITCHES!

 

"TIME TO PUT DOWN THE CRISTAL,

TIME TO TAKE OFF THE ICE FOR A MINUTE…

 

"TIME TO THROW A LITTLE MUD IN THIS MOTHERFUCKER!"

 

 

The fans go crazy as the sounds of Redman's "Let's Get Dirty" begin to flood the arena! The lights flash off and on as Wildchild makes his way out onto the stage area. He paces back and forth, waving his arms to keep the crowd pumped up.

 

"Well, King's opinion notwithstanding," says Mak, "here comes a guy that has a genuine shot of achieving some greatness all of his own!"

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

 

"The following contest is scheduled for one fall," booms Funyon, "and it is for the SWF World Cruiserweight Championship! Introducing first, the challenger: from the Bahamas, and weighing in at two hundred fourteen pounds… the WIIIIILDCHIIIIILD!" WC slaps hands with the fans hanging around the barricade as he makes his way down the ramp. As he approaches the ringside area, he heads over towards ELM and extends his hand, leading to a tremendous ovation when the Magnificent One takes it and shakes it!

 

"How about that!" shouts Mak, as WC gives ELM a respectful nod before somersaulting into the ring. "These two had a pretty intense rivalry a couple of years ago, and even though Mags came out on top in that feud, it seems pretty clear that Wildchild earned his respect, King!"

 

"You know, if it were anybody other than Mags, I'd be sick to my stomach right now," grumbles King, as the lights come back on in the arena. "But, out of respect, I'm going to let it slide; I still can't believe, though, that he'd even consider this guy to be a contemporary, let alone an equal!" Wildchild crouches into a ready position and trains both eyes on the entrance ramp as his music fades out, soon to be replaced by the epileptic techno beat that heralds the arrival of the World Cruiserweight Champion. Jakey steps out from behind the curtain and stops at the head of the ramp, enshrouded in a flamboyant red trenchcoat.

 

"His opponent," continues Funyon, "now residing in New York City, and weighing one hundred sixty pounds… here is the reigning, and defending, SWF World Cruiserweight Champion: The FAAAAABULOUS JAAAAAKEY!" Jakey walks up the steps and enters the ring through the ropes, then stands in the center and undoes his trenchcoat; the Fabulous One removes the coat with his arms spread out. Jakey then flings the coat over his shoulder before parking it in the corner, then stands in the center of the ring and raises both arms. Spying Mags outside the ring, Jakey heads over towards the edge of the ring to have a few words.

 

"Looks like Jakey's going to pay his respects as well," says Mak, as Jakey exits the ring. The Champion extends his hand towards Magnifico but, as soon as the Hall of Famer reaches for it, Jakey pulls his hand back and runs it through his hair.

 

BOOOOOOOOOO!

 

 

"Big mistake on Jakey's part, in my opinion," says Mak, as Jakey climbs back onto the apron, continuing to taunt Mags all the while. "If you ask me, King, it's a bad omen for him to show that kind of disrespect to Mags."

 

"Well, part of me wants to agree with you, but I really like Revolution Zero," says King.

 

"The line on this match in Vegas is 5:2 odds in favor of Wildchild," remarks Francis. "You know, King, it's not very often in a title match that the Champion is the underdog!"

 

"That's true," replies King, as Wildchild rushes across the ring to take a swing at Jakey, only for the Fabulous One to drop to the floor, out of harm's way. "But that's the beauty of having that Champion's advantage: the challenger HAS to beat you… And look at this: Wildchild trying to jump Jakey, from behind, I might add, and steal an advantage in this match!"

 

Jakey reluctantly returns to the ring as his music fades out. He reaches behind his waist to unhook the World Cruiserweight Championship, but seeing the emotion in Wildchild's eyes causes him to hesitate, and it's only after referee Red Herrington threatens him with a five-count does he surrender the title to the official. Herrington raises the belt above his head to display it for the fans; he then hands it to the departing Funyon, and motions for the timekeeper to ring the bell, signifying the start of the match:

 

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

 

"Bell's gone!" shouts Mak. "And we're underway!" Wildchild and Jakey appear slow to engage each other, circling the ring cautiously. Finally, Wildchild, unable to bear looking at Jakey's smug expression any longer, charges across the ring to lock up with Jakey, only for the Fabulous One to dive out of the ring and begin to walk up the ramp…

 

BOOOOOOOOOO!

 

"Jakey out of there in a hurry!" shouts Mak, as the Fabulous One stops near the foot of the ramp to harass a few Wildchild fans at ringside, snatching the handmade DUB CEE sign out of the hands of one of them, and ripping them apart in front of their eyes.

 

"Ah, Jakey's just using a psyche-out job on him," replies King, as the Fabulous One tosses the remnants of the poster into the air behind him, before returning to the ring. "You don't sweat Jakey, Francis! Mark my words; this is all part of his plan!" Upon returning to the apron, Jakey raises his arms skyward, seeking recognition from the fans, but the only reaction his gets is…

 

BOOOOOOOOOO!

 

"Jakey looking for accolades from this Phoenix crowd, and not getting any!" notes Pete, as he steps towards Wildchild to lock up. "Wildchild's been here before more than anybody, King; he knows what it's like to have that gold around his waist! You're not going to psyche this guy out!"

 

"Here we go!" shouts King as Jakey and Wildchild engage in a collar-and-elbow tie-up. "The time for talking has ended!" Wildchild quickly shifts his left arm to hook underneath Jakey's left, and falls backwards as he snaps the Fabulous One overhead with a startlingly-fast armdrag takeover!

 

"Whoa!" exclaims Pete, as Jakey slides backwards on his hands and knees. "Nice display of speed by the challenger!"

 

"I expected as much," concedes King, as the Fabulous One exits to the apron once more. "Wildchild's got a considerable speed advantage on Jakey. But we'll see what happens when they get down to actual wrestling; you know, one armdrag don't win the championship!" Jakey paces across the apron, looking out into the crowd, which greets him with chants for his opponent:

 

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

 

Wildchild is becoming visibly irritated with his opponent's antics, as Jakey finally decides to return to the ring, the smug expression still dominating his face; as soon as WC takes two steps towards him, however, Fabulous scurries away towards the edge of the ring, ducking his head between the middle and top ropes, and barking at the referee to order the challenger back.

 

 

BOOOOOOOOOO!

 

"Boy, Jakey is doing his best to get under Wildchild's skin," says Mak. "Or maybe he's just afraid to get in the ring with him!"

 

"That's ridiculous!" scoffs King. "Like I said before, he's just playing mind games! He knows how emotional Wildchild is; all he has to do is lure this chump into making a mistake, and then you'll see some real wrestling!" Jakey eases his way back into the ring and feigns a step towards the challenger, before taking a step back and pacing the ring, further frustrating the Wildchild. Finally, Jakey approaches WC, only to stun him with a thumb to the eyes! Jakey hammers Wildchild with a couple of clubbing forearms to the back of the neck; he then grabs WC by the wrist and whips him across the ring, but the Bahama Bomber reverses, charging towards Jakey as he rebounds and sending him flying backwards with a running shoulderblock! The Fabulous One rolls all the way to the outside of the ring staring back into the ring in irritation at the challenger, who pumps his arm in the air to get the crowd pumped up.

 

"King, I know that you believe that this guy's trying to play the psych game on Wildchild, but every time he's tried to get physical, it's backfired on him!"

 

"Well Wildchild's obviously got the physical advantage," continues King, as Jakey takes full advantage of the twenty-count granted in cruiserweight matches. "He's bigger, he's a little bit stronger… he's definitely faster. And he's probably more emotionally charged right now; but I fully expect Jakey to capitalize on that emotion and catch Wildchild in a mistake!"

 

Jakey gets back onto the apron, just ahead of the twenty-count; he steps between the ropes, but every time Wildchild takes even one step towards him, the Fabulous One swoops his upper body flamboyantly through the ropes, ordering Herrington to keep the challenger well away from him.

 

"Fabulous Jakey is trying to keep this match at a snail's pace," observes Mak.

 

"That's called smarts," says King. "I told you, Francis, this is all part of the mind games; it'll pay off in the end, mark my words!"

 

Suddenly, Jakey starts pantomiming excitedly towards Wildchild's legs. "Hey ref!" he shouts. "Those shin guards look loose; make sure he doesn't try to take one off and hit me with it!" Herrington calls Wildchild over in order to inspect the shin guards and, as soon as he has the challenger preoccupied…

 

 

BAM!

 

 

… Jakey suckers him in the side of the head with a hard right hand! Jakey follows up with a series of kneelifts to the midsection before whipping WC into the corner; the Fabulous One twirls about in the center of the ring, taunting the crowd before turning his attention back towards his opponent…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… But the Human Hurricane charges out of the corner explosively and leaps into the air, creasing Jakey's neck with a leg lariat that nearly knocks him out of his boots! WC pulls the Fabulous One to his feet, only to scoop him into a slam! Wildchild leaps off the canvas almost before Jakey lands, and extends his leg to deliver a legdrop across the Champion's throat; in one fluid motion, WC immediately rolls to his feet and leaps off the canvas again, this time crashing down with a legdrop across the throat from the other side! Wildchild remains in this position to apply a cover:

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

Jakey kicks out at two! Wildchild pulls him to his feet and grabs him by the wrist, whipping him across the ring; the Caribbean Cruiser lowers his shoulder as Jakey rebounds, and launches him overhead with a big back-body drop! Jakey rolls back out to the arena floor, but this time, WC gives chase; the Fabulous One runs for his life around the arena floor, with Wildchild hot on his heels! Jakey rolls back into the ring ahead of Wildchild and quickly gets to his feet; As soon as WC starts to roll back into the ring, Jakey lowers the boom with an elbow smash… but his elbow smacks impotently against canvas and plywood, as the Tropical Tumbler throws it into reverse and rolls quickly back out of the ring!

 

"Once again, the mind games backfire for the Champion!" says Mak. WC somersaults between the bottom and middle ropes to return to the ring; he beats Jakey to his feet and quickly leaps off the canvas, locking his legs behind Jakey's neck and arching backwards to take the champion over with a rana!

 

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

WC runs back up to Jakey as he gets to his feet, but the Fabulous One pokes him in the eyes!

 

"Smart move on the part of Jakey!" praises King. "Do whatever it takes to slow your opponent down!" Wildchild, furious at Jakey's tactics, advances towards him, only for Jakey to retreat once again to the safety of the ropes…

 

 

Only this time, Wildchild will not be dissuaded…

 

 

BAP!

 

 

Wildchild ignores the referee's warnings and shrugs past him, walking over towards the edge of the ring and punching Jakey in the face!

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

"Disqualify him!" roars King, rising from his seat as Wildchild continues to pummel the Cruiserweight Champion. "You can't hit a guy when he's in the ropes like that!"

 

With Jakey trapped between the top and middle ropes, he bounces back and forth like a bop bag with every one of Wildchild's piston-like right hands! "Wildchild's got until the referee counts to five, King," challenges Mak. Sure enough, Herrington begins administering a five-count to the challenger:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

THREE!

 

 

FOUR!

 

 

FI—

 

 

Wildchild backs off at the count of five, leaving Jakey in a dazed state, still dangling between the two sets of ropes, half inside the ring and half out; in a flash, though, the Human Hurricane races across the ring, picking up speed as he bounces of the ropes…

 

 

CRASH!

 

 

… And leaps over the top rope, crashing into Jakey with a flying bodypress that sends them both crashing to the arena floor!

 

 

DUB CEE!

DUB CEE!

DUB CEE!

DUB CEE!

 

 

"Death-defying high cross-body by the challenger!" says Mak. Wildchild pulls Jakey to his feet, only to grab him by the back of the head and ram him face-first into the edge of the ring apron! Jakey staggers away and, as WC goes after him, turns around to yet again stun the challenger with a thumb to the eyes!

 

"This is starting to be a broken record," says Mak, as Jakey stumbles around the corner of the ring. "Every time Jakey starts to get in trouble, he goes back to that thumb to the eyes!"

 

"Hey," replies King, as Jakey pulls himself back onto the apron. "You stick with what works; no matter how fast a guy is, a thumb to the eyes will always slow him down!" Jakey leans heavily on the top rope to catch his breath, and fails to notice that Wildchild has climbed up onto the apron beside him.

 

"Look out, Jakey!" warns King, as Jakey's eyes widen in fear as he notices the Tropical Tumbler. He tries to go for the eyes once again, but this time, WC grabs him by the wrist to stop him!

 

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

"Not this time!" cheers Mak, as panic spreads across Jakey's face. Wildchild suddenly shifts on the apron and hooks his left arm underneath Jakey's left as he leaps bodily off the apron, snatching the unprepared Champion off his feet and overhead before slamming him down to the padded arena floor with an armdrag!

 

 

"Good grief!" cries Mak. "That was the sickest armdrag I've ever seen!" WC pulls Jakey to his feet and traps him in a front-facelock before pulling him overhead; Wildchild gives a half-twist before falling backwards, slamming Jakey back down to the arena floor with a corkscrew suplex!

 

"Referee's got to step in and do something about this," snarls King. "This is a Cruiserweight match, not a Falls Count Anywhere match!"

 

"Maybe not," replies Mak, as Wildchild somersaults back into the ring, "but they do have a twenty-count to get in and out of the ring!"

 

"Well, at least he's finished with that madness outside the ring!" says King, as WC winds his hands above his head.

 

"King, I have a feeling he's just getting started!" Mak's words in this match have often been prophetic, and these are no exception: the Tropical Tumbler dashes across the ring, picking up speed as he bounces off the ropes, and leaps into the air as he approaches the edge of the ring, sailing over the top rope…

 

 

 

SPLASH!

 

 

… And crashing down into Jakey's chest with a senton swan dive!

 

 

HOLY SHIT!

HOLY SHIT!

HOLY SHIT!

HOLY SHIT!

 

 

"My… GOD!" exclaims Mak. "That was one of the craziest moves I've ever seen! Wildchild could have killed himself doing that!" Wildchild pulls himself to his feet and looks down at the sputtering Champion before he begins to head up the ramp. "What's he's doing right now, though?"

 

"Is he leaving?" King wonders aloud, as Wildchild continues to head towards the entrance. The referee gets halfway through his count and Wildchild is all the way up to the head of the ramp, when he suddenly spins around and charges towards his opponent! Jakey barely has time to pull himself to his feet before he notices the fastest man in the SWF bearing down on him at top speed; the Fabulous One sees his life flash before his eyes as the Bahama Bomber leaps into the air, diving feet-first towards him…

 

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… And nearly collapses his breastbone with a running dropkick! Jakey flies backwards as if he were hit in the chest at point-blank range with a 12-gague, and crashes back-first into the hard metal edge of the ring apron!

 

 

DUB CEE!

DUB CEE!

DUB CEE!

DUB CEE!

 

 

"Good God," says Mak. "Wildchild just took, like, a fifty-yard head start before charging at the Fabulous Jakey and obliterating him with that running dropkick!" Wildchild pulls Jakey off the arena floor and rolls him underneath the bottom rope; he then climbs up onto the apron and races towards the corner, vaulting over the top rope and landing on the opposing middle rope before springing backwards into the ring to crash into his opponent with a slingshot moonsault press!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

 

 

NO! FOOT ON THE ROPES!

 

 

 

 

Wildchild pulls Jakey back to his feet and grabs him by the wrist, whipping him across the ring; WC lowers his shoulder as Jakey bounces off the ropes, grabbing him by the leg as he lifts him up off the canvas and falls back to spike the Champion face-first with a flapjack!

 

"Vicious flapjack by the challenger," says Mak, as WC quickly gets back to his feet and runs to the ropes. "And he follows it up with the Whiplash; that patented flipping neck snap of his!" Wildchild rolls Jakey onto his back and applies a lateral press:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

Jakey kicks out at two! Wildchild pulls Jakey back to his feet and whips him into a neutral corner; WC grabs the Champion in a waistlock as he staggers out of the corner and snatches him off his feet, twisting around and slamming him into the canvas with a belly-to-belly suplex!

 

"Uncharacteristic power display by the Wildchild!" exclaims Mak, as WC gets back to his feet; the challenger heads over to the corner and hops onto the bottom turnbuckle, before springing backwards to crash into Jakey with a moonsault! WC gets back to his feet and immediately hops over Jakey's prone body, running back to the corner and leaping up to the middle turnbuckle, only to spring backwards with a second moonsault!

 

"Looks like Wildchild is going for a trifecta," says Mak, as WC gets up and heads to the corner; he leaps to the top turnbuckle in one fluid motion and flips backwards into the ring, crashing into Jakey's chest with a top-rope moonsault!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

TH—NO! Jakey just gets the shoulder up! Wildchild pulls Jakey back to his feet and whips him across the ring into the other neutral corner; this time the Caribbean Cruiser runs towards the edge of the ring as Jakey staggers out of the corner, leaps onto the top rope and curls himself into a ball as he springs back into the ring, blasting the Champion in the chest with his patented rolling ball attack!

 

"Pinball!" cries Mak. "And King, Wildchild is really on a roll; he's got the whole repertoire working tonight!"

 

"Well, I've said it before," concedes King, "when Wildchild is on his game, there's nobody better, as far as the Cruiserweight division is concerned… But again, don't underestimate the resilience of the Champion! Jakey has proven that he can take a lot of punishment!" WC pulls Jakey back to his feet and whips him into the corner, causing him to slam back-first into the turnbuckles; WC charges into the corner after him, leaping off the canvas and twisting his body in midair to deliver his patented Blue Crush, only for Jakey to duck out of the way… but the Bahama Bomber corrects in midair and lands on the middle ropes!

 

"Jakey moved out of the way of that Blue Crush," says Mak, "but I don't think he's realized that Wildchild didn't crash and burn there!" WC climbs up to the top turnbuckle and waits for Jakey to turn around before leaping back into the ring, flipping forward as he extends his feet to smash the Champion with a Shooting Star Missile Dropkick! Jakey goes sailing across the ring and rolls out of the ring!

 

"And the Fabulous Jakey out of there once again!" says Mak, as WC pumps his arms up and down to excite the crowd. "King, I don't think that he was ready for this; maybe the pressure to perform is weighing down too heavily on him!"

 

"Well, you know Genesis can do that to you, if it's your first time here!" says King, as Herrington begins to deliver a count on Jakey.

 

"Genesis is the biggest event in all of professional wrestling," agrees Mak. "So I have to agree, there's definitely a risk of getting butterflies in your stomach!"

 

"Positively!" affirms King. "Wrestling at Genesis is a whole different ball game than any other match; the pressure to perform on the biggest stage gives you a different outlook, and a different effect from what's happening in that ring than a normal match!" Jakey climbs back onto the apron ahead of the twenty-count but, just before stepping into the ring, he drops back down to the arena floor and heads over to the timekeeper's table.

 

"Where's Jakey going?" asks Mak, as the Fabulous One snatches the Cruiserweight Championship Belt away from the timekeeper, and starts to walk around the ring.

 

"It looks like he's leaving," replies King, as Herrington begins his count. "Maybe he's decided that it's better to fight another day, when the bright lights of Genesis aren't shining bright on him!"

 

PU-SSY!

PU-SSY!

PU-SSY!

PU-SSY!

 

"What a cop-out!" shouts Mak. "He can't beat his opponent, so he's going to take a walk?"

 

"Hey," replies King, "that's the beauty of being Champion: the challenger has to beat you. You don't have to beat the challenger!" Jakey doesn't even look back at the ring, ignoring the jeers from the fans surrounding the barricade, having apparently made up his mind to take his ball and go home. Herrington gets all the way to eighteen before Wildchild exits the ring and takes off after him, forcing the referee to start his count over.

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

"Oh yeah!" cheers Mak, as WC tackles Jakey from behind with a spear. "Jakey might not want to face the challenger, but Wildchild's not going to let him off that easy!" WC rains down fury upon the Champion's face with a battery of rapid-fire right hands! He pulls Jakey to his feet and grabs him by the back of the head as he leads Jakey over to the barricade, bashing his face into the hard rubber edge of the barricade!

 

"We've got a melee outside the ring," says King, as Herrington heads over to the combatants, and tries to steer them back towards the ring. "And Red Herrington is being very lenient with the count right now!"

 

"Well, it IS Genesis, King!" replies Mak. "You don't want a title match on the biggest show of the year to end in double-countout, do you?" Wildchild pulls Jakey away from the barricade and scoops him up, before slamming him down to the canvas! The Fabulous One writhes on the floor, and the referee tries again to get the wrestlers back in the ring, as the fans voice their appreciation for this beatdown:

 

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

 

"Wildchild has been destroying the Fabulous One's chest and back in this match," says Mak. WC once again grabs Jakey by the back of the head and leads him all the way back to the ringside area, where he slams him face-first into the hard edge of the ring apron! The Bahama Bomber raises one arm overhead as he marches back up the ramp.

 

"Oh no!" cries Mak, as Jakey wearily pulls himself to his feet, with help from the apron. "You don't think he'd go for that running dropkick again, do you?"

 

"If he does, it'll be tough luck for Jakey," replies King mournfully. "I don't see any way he can survive another one of those; I'm still surprised that the first one didn't cave his chest in!" WC reaches a distance about three-quarters of the way up the ramp, when he turns around and races back towards the ring at top speed; he leaps into the air as he reaches the foot of the ramp and curls himself into a ball… but the Fabulous One, surprisingly, has the wherewithal to belly out against the arena floor! The preternaturally agile Bahaman still manages to auto-correct in midair, and lands safely on the apron…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… But the Fabulous One suddenly surges to his feet and grabs Wildchild by the ankle, pulling him off the apron and dumping him head-first on the arena floor!

 

"Brilliant move by the Cruiserweight Champion!" crows King. "He took Wildchild's best shots, and still had the presence of mind to execute that brilliant counter! Now you'll see the tide turned!" Jakey pulls WC to his feet and grabs him by the wrist, whipping him towards the corner and sending him face-first into the solid steel steps! He pulls Wildchild back to his feet and rolls him underneath the bottom rope, before climbing back onto the apron; with both wrestlers back in the ring, Herrington rolls his eyes and sighs sarcastically to himself as he returns to the ring to monitor the action.

 

"A definite shift in momentum, in favor of the Champion," says Mak. "It'll be interesting to see how well he'll be able to keep the pressure on, with the beating he's taken so far!" Jakey pulls WC to his feet and traps him in a front-facelock; he then reaches down to grab the leg before he pops his hips, lifting his larger challenger off the canvas and overhead, to slam him back down with a snap suplex! Jakey floats through into a cover:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

Wildchild kicks out at two! Jakey pulls WC to his feet and scoops him up for a slam; he then takes a few steps back before advancing and driving his leg into the challenger's side with a punt kick! Jakey applies another lateral press:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

Wildchild kicks out again at two! Jakey pulls him to his feet and grabs him by the wrist to whip him into the ropes, but the challenger reverses; WC lowers his head to deliver a back-body drop as Jakey rebounds, but the Fabulous One counters with a kick to the chest that stands him up…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… And follows up with a spin kick! This time Jakey hooks the leg as he applies a cover:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

TH— KICKOUT!

 

 

"Jakey's been able to take charge of the match," says Mak, but he can't keep Wildchild's shoulders down!" Jakey pulls Wildchild to his feet and traps him in a front-facelock; he pantomimes a swinging neckbreaker with his free hand, but the Bahama Bomber wraps both his arms around the Champion's waist and surprises him by lifting him backwards into a modified Northern Lights suplex!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

Jakey kicks out at two! Jakey beats Wildchild to his feet and swings wildly at the challenger's head, but the Caribbean Cruiser easily ducks, grabbing Jakey by the waist and lifting him up and bringing him back down on his outstretched thigh with an Atomic Drop!

 

"Vicious Atomic Drop!" cringes King. "That's chiropractic city, right there!" WC spins Jakey around to follow with an inverted Atomic Drop, only for Jakey to stun him with a thumb to the eyes; the Fabulous One grabs WC by the wrist and whips him across the ring, arm raised to deliver a clothesline as his opponent bounces off the ropes, but Wildchild easily ducks underneath and continues on to the other side, leaping explosively off the canvas as he rebounds and knocking Jakey down with a flying forearm!

 

"Beautiful counter by the Wildchild!" says Mak. "He's been able to answer everything Jakey has tried to do so far tonight!" Jakey rolls out to the apron to recover, but makes the mistake of staying on the apron and, as he stands up, he sees the Human Hurricane charging towards him and leaping overhead, grabbing him by the waist as he flies past…

 

 

BANG!

 

 

… And driving him into the arena floor with a Sunset-Flip powerbomb!

 

 

HOLY SHIT!

HOLY SHIT!

HOLY SHIT!

HOLY SHIT!

 

 

"Bahama Bomb!" shrieks Mak. "Bahama Bomb to the outside! Wildchild is destroying the Champion, King!" WC pulls Jakey to his feet and rolls him underneath the bottom rope; he then climbs onto the apron and grabs onto the top rope to launch himself into the ring with a slingshot senton! The challenger rolls over and applies a lateral press:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

 

 

NO! JAKEY GETS HIS FOOT ON THE ROPES!

 

 

"Another close call, but Jakey's still the Champion!" sighs King. "I've been telling you all night, Francis, don't underestimate Jakey's resilience!"

 

"I haven't, King," replies Mak, as WC pulls Jakey to his feet. "But I think that you're making the mistake of underestimating Wildchild; how is Jakey supposed to come out on top against a guy that's better than he is at everything he's good at, and is more determined to win!"

 

"You rope-a-dope him," replies King. "Jakey's already had some success with letting Wildchild punch himself out of the match in order to take over; don't think for a second that it would work a second time!" Wildchild pulls Jakey over to a neutral corner and stands him up against the turnbuckles, before climbing up to the middle ropes.

 

"Well, he'd better hope it works a second time," says Mak, as WC holds a clenched fist overhead, "because it doesn't look like Wildchild's going to get tired of punching him any time soon!" The fans start counting along as Wildchild delivers a ten-count punch:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

THREE!

 

 

FOUR!

 

 

FIVE!

 

 

SIX!

 

 

SEVEN!

 

 

EIGHT!

 

 

NINE!

 

 

TEN!

 

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

Wildchild hops down from the corner, leaving Jakey to slump passively against the turnbuckles. The Bahama Bomber grabs Jakey by the wrist and whips him across the ring into the opposite corner; WC then races across the ring, leaping off the canvas and twisting in midair to crush the Champion against the turnbuckles with a Blue Crush splash! Wildchild takes a few steps back as the Fabulous One staggers out of the corner before surging towards him, leaping off the canvas and swinging his leg though the air…

 

 

CRACK!

 

 

… To blast Jakey in the side of the head with an Enzugiri! The Fabulous One crumples to the canvas and rolls lifelessly onto his back; Wildchild looks out into the crowd and raises his hands to his mouth…

 

 

 

WC: CAW-CAW!

Crowd: CAW-CAW!

 

 

"Uh-oh!" shouts Mak as WC heads out to the ring apron. "Wildchild just called for the Bird Dropping; if he hits this, we've got a new champion!" Jakey lifts his head feebly and motions for the referee, gasping for help as Wildchild climbs to the top turnbuckle.

 

"What's the big idea?"

 

"Well, obviously Jakey's injured!" snaps King. "Why else would he ask for assistance from that idiot Herrington?" WC, forced to idle on the top turnbuckle, barks at Herrington to move so that he can attack.

 

"To stop Wildchild from coming off the top rope," spits Mak, "which is exactly what he's doing!" Sure enough, the Fabulous One suddenly sits up and pushes Herrington towards the corner, knocking WC from his perch and crotches him on the top turnbuckle! Jakey gets to his feet and heads over to the corner, shoving Herrington out of the way as he traps WC in a front-facelock and drops him face-first off of the turnbuckles with a ferocious implant DDT!

 

"DDT!" crows King. "It's over! It's over if he can turn him over!"

 

"But that's the question, isn't it, King?" asks Mak. "Jakey took such a hellacious beating from Wildchild, he may not have the strength to turn Wildchild over for a cover!" Sure enough, Herrington back towards the action to find both wrestlers lying motionless on the canvas. He begins to deliver a ten-count:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

THREE!

 

 

FOUR!

 

 

FIVE!

 

 

SIX!

 

 

SEVEN!

 

 

EIGHT!

 

 

NINE!

 

 

At the count of nine, Jakey finds the strength to push Wildchild onto his back and crawl atop him for a lateral press:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

 

NO! WILDCHILD JUST GETS THE SHOULDER UP!

 

 

"Two and a half!" gasps Mak. "That was close!"

 

"Too close!" snipes King, as Jakey rolls out to the floor. "It looked like there was some hesitation on the part of Red Herrington; you know, I'm getting sick of this guy's biased refereeing!"

 

"What do you mean, biased refereeing?" asks Mak, as Jakey staggers around the ring. "Herrington's called it right down the middle!"

 

"Sure he has," replies King sarcastically. "That's why he allowed that extended brawl outside the ring, right? Instead of calling for the double-countout?"

 

"Okay, so the referee has been lenient," says Mak, "but only because he wants to make sure that we have a decision!" Jakey picks up the Cruiserweight Championship Belt from where it was discarded previously, and takes it back over near his corner.

 

"Yeah, but in doing so, he's bent the rules so that they clearly are favoring Wildchild," states King. "There was only one person that benefits when the referee plays loose with the rules in a title match, and that's the challenger!" Jakey leaves the belt on the floor near his corner and rolls underneath the bottom rope to return to the ring. He walks over to where he left Wildchild laying and pulls him to his feet; Jakey grabs WC by the wrist and whips him across the ring to the opposite corner, before turning around to untangle and remove the top turnbuckle pad.

 

"What's this?" asks Mak. "What sort of chicanery is going on here?" Jakey tosses the turnbuckle pad aside and makes his way towards Wildchild, but Herrington stops him and admonishes him. After reading him the riot act, Herrington turns his attention to the turnbuckle pad and makes himself busy with tying it back on the top turnbuckle… while Jakey quickly crosses the ring and retrieves the title from the floor.

 

"Oh yeah!" cheers King. "I know what's coming up here!" With the referee preoccupied, Jakey heads over to where Wildchild is still trying to shake off the effects of the DDT…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… And waffles him with the Cruiserweight Title!

 

 

BOOOOOOOOOO!

 

 

"That's disgusting!" growls Mak, as Jakey tosses the belt out of the ring. "I can't believe that Jakey would stoop so low!"

 

"I can't believe that the referee isn't counting," says King, as Jakey applies a lateral press. "Turn around and do your job, ref!" After several seconds, Herrington notices that Jakey has Wildchild down for the count, and scuttles across the ring to score the pinfall:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

 

 

NO! WILDCHILD GETS HIS FOOT ON THE ROPE!

 

 

"Somebody has to do something about this horrible, biased officiating!" says King. "That's probably the third time the referee has cheated Jakey out of keeping his title!" Jakey steps behind WC as he sits up and locks in a reverse chinlock.

 

"Fabulous Jakey has finally managed to slow down Wildchild to a manageable pace," says Mak. "And now, he's going to try and wear him down with a reverse chinlock."

 

"Definitely," agrees King. "This probably won't finish him off, but it's a great way to put pressure on the head, and set up that Jumping Jakey Flash; this is going to wear Wildchild down, no doubt about it!" Herrington drops down to his knees and looks into Wildchild's eyes to check his alertness, and Fabulous takes advantage of the distraction to lift his feet onto the middle rope, adding to his leverage!

 

 

BOOOOOOOOOO!

 

 

"What is the purpose of that?" demands Mak. "He's already got the hold locked in!"

 

"What do you mean, what's the purpose?" replies King. "It should seem pretty self-explanatory!" Jakey drops his feet from the rope an instant before Herrington lifts his head; the referee notices the ropes swinging up and down, but chooses not to say anything at the moment.

 

"He didn't need to do that, King!"

 

"So?" counters King. "Since when does anyone need a reason to cheat?" Herrington notices WC's eyes start to glass over and sits up raise his arm when he catches Jakey in the act of hanging off the ropes. Immediately abandoning his intention to count WC down, he stands up and demands that Fabulous take his feet off the ropes, beginning his count when the Fabulous One appears to ignore him:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

THREE!

 

 

FOUR!

 

 

FIV—

 

 

At four and three-quarters, Jakey gets to his feet and begins barking at the referee. "What's the big idea?" he barks. "I'm trying to win a match here!"

 

"Can you believe the balls on this guy?" asks Mak. "Red Herrington caught him red-handed and he's STILL trying to deny it!" Jakey turns his attention back to Wildchild, bending down to pick him up, but the Bahama Bomber catches him off-guard, pulling him down and into an inside cradle!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

Jakey kicks out at two and beats Wildchild to his feet, kicking him angrily in the face! He pulls WC roughly to his feet and stands behind him, reaching forward to grab him by the arms and pulling them cross-wise across his body. Fabulous pops his hips as he snatches WC off the canvas and drops him backwards onto his shoulder with a straightjacket suplex! Herrington drops down to count:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THREENO!

 

 

 

 

Wildchild just gets the shoulder up! Jakey pulls WC to his feet and stuns him with a slap to the face, before trapping him in a front facelock. He reaches down to grab WC's far leg and then lifts him up for a vertical suplex, holding him in the air as he reaches his apex.

 

"Could be looking at a brainbuster!" cheers King. But, as Jakey begins to turn WC, the Bahama Bomber slips out of his grasp, landing on his feet behind him. In an act of desperation, Wildchild leaps up and grabs Jakey by the back of the neck before he can react, and falls backwards…

 

 

BANG!

 

 

… Driving his knees into the Champion's back with a Lungblower! Both men lie motionless on the canvas and Red Herrington begins to deliver a ten-count:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

THREE!

 

 

"I don't know whether or not Wildchild has anything left to try and retake the momentum in this match," says Mak, "but I tell you what, King: you can never count him out of a match, just because he can get going so quickly!"

 

"He's instant offense, there's no question about that," concedes King, "but Wildchild is just like one of those funny cars that can take off quick, but runs out of gas almost as quickly! That's why I don't think that he'll be able to come back to win this match; that Lungblower probably took everything he had left!"

 

 

EIGHT!

 

 

NINE!

 

 

At the count of nine, Jakey sits up abruptly. Still a little groggy, he crawls over towards WC and collapses atop him for a cover. Herrington counts the shoulders:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

TH— KICKOUT!

 

 

 

 

Jakey pulls WC to his feet and grabs him by the wrist to whip him towards a neutral corner, but the Bahama Bomber reverses, sending Jakey crashing chest-first into the turnbuckles instead! Wildchild races in after him and leapfrogs over him to land on the top turnbuckle, before launching back towards the center of the ring with a flying cross-body block!

 

… But Jakey rolls through and counters into a pin of his own!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

"Jakey's got the tights!" shouts Mak.

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

"Jakey's got the damned tights!"

 

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

 

 

NO! WILDCHILD GETS THE SHOULDER UP AT TWO AND NINE-TENTHS!

 

 

 

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

 

"Man, that was close!" sighs Mak, as Jakey looks up at the referee in disbelief. "I almost had the sickest sense of déjà vu for a moment there!"

 

"That was almost the exact same way that Jakey won the Cruiserweight Title all those months ago!" adds King. Jakey hooks his arms underneath Wildchild's legs and flips him over, before sitting down on top of his back in a Boston Crab.

 

"Boston Crab applied!" shouts King. "We should get a submission here!"

 

"Highly unlikely," replies Mak. "You think that Wildchild will give up with the World Cruiserweight Title on the line? I don't think so!" Jakey pulls Wildchild to his feet and grabs him by the wrist to whip him into the ropes, but WC reverses; Wildchild lowers his head to deliver a back-body drop, and Jakey jumps over him, wrapping his arms around the challenger's waist to pull him into a Sunset Flip… But the Tropical Tumbler rolls through to his feet and quickly hops off the canvas, smashing both feet into Jakey's face with a basement dropkick! Herrington begins to deliver a ten-count:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

THREE!

 

 

FOUR!

 

 

FIVE!

 

 

SIX!

 

 

SEVEN!

 

 

EIGHT!

 

 

At the count of eight, Jakey and Wildchild both begin to stir. They each get to their knees and begin to exchange punches.

 

 

WAP!

WHACK!

WAP!

WHACK!

WAP!

WHACK!

 

They continue to trade punches as they both get back to their feet, with Wildchild getting the better of it, but the Fabulous One doubles him over with a stunning knee to the midsection. He grabs him by the wrist and whips him across the ring, lowering his head to deliver a backdrop as Wildchild bounces off the ropes; WC leaps HIGH into the air, extending his leg over the back of Jakey's neck to drive him face-first into the canvas with his patented Caribbean Cutter!

 

But Jakey moves out of the way! He positions himself behind Wildchild and pulls him into a school-boy rollup!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

Wildchild kicks out at two! Both men get to their feet at once, but Jakey gets a thumb to the eyes, and then follows it up with a kick to the midsection, before trapping the challenger in a front-facelock…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… And snapping Wildchild's neck with a swinging neckbreaker!

 

 

"I tell you what," says King, "I know you may not approve of the tactics, but Jakey's been incredibly effective with that thumb to the eye; every time Wildchild starts to develop a little momentum, just use a good old fashioned thumb to the eyes, and your opponent is helpless!" Jakey pulls WC to his feet, but the challenger suddenly comes alive, punching Jakey repeatedly in the face! He grabs Jakey by the wrist and whips him into the ropes; WC lowers his head for a back-body drop, but this time, when Jakey swings his leg up for a kick, Wildchild shows that he was just playing possum! WC catches Jakey's leg and takes him down with a leg sweep! He then winds Jakey's legs around his and falls backwards in a figure-four leglock!

 

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

 

… But the Fabulous One immediately reaches up and grabs the ropes, forcing a break! Wildchild beats Jakey to his feet and whips him towards a neutral corner, but Jakey reverses, kicking Wildchild in the midsection and wrapping his arms around the challenger's waist before lifting him up…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

 

… And planting him back down with a powerbomb! Jakey folds WC over for a cover:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

Wildchild kicks out at two! Jakey looks up at the referee with a pained expression on his face, but knows that his work is far from done; he pulls Wildchild back to his feet, and grabs him by the wrist, whipping him towards the opposite edge of the ring…

 

 

… But the Caribbean Cruiser reverses the whip attempt and jams a knee into the Champion's midsection to double him over before leaping up into the air, extending his leg over the back of Jakey's head as he comes down…

 

 

BANG!

 

 

… To drive the Fabulous One face-first into the canvas with a Caribbean Cutter!

 

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

"Cutter!" shouts Mak, as WC rises to his feet, holding his arms overhead. "Wildchild just hit the Caribbean Cutter! And he's giving the sign for the Wild Ride; if he hits this, we've got a new champion!"

 

Wildchild pulls Jakey to his feet and prepares to set up for the Wild Ride… when, suddenly, inspiration strikes him: he seeks out Mags in the crowd and, with a nod to the Hall of Famer, applies a top double-underhook to the Champion, before twisting around into a backslide position!

 

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

"Could it be?" Mak wonders aloud. "Could Wildchild be going for the Baja California Crusher?"

 

You're damned right it could be!

 

 

WC takes off towards the corner, flipping backwards off the turnbuckles and sailing over Jakey's head…

 

 

BANG!

 

 

… BEFORE SPIKING HIM FACE-FIRST INTO THE CANVAS WITH THE BAJA CALIFORNIA CRUSHER!

 

 

"BCC!" shouts Mak, as Wildchild applies a cover. "That's going to do it!" The fans count along with the referee as his hand slaps the canvas:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

 

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

 

 

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

 

The cheers threaten to shake the University of Phoenix Stadium off its foundation! There's no hope of hearing "Let's Get Dirty" over the roar of the crowd! Red Herrington leans through the ropes to retrieve the belt, but the timekeeper gestures that he doesn't have it.

 

 

"He's done it!" shouts Mak, doing his best to be heard over the Arizona thunder. "History has been made here at the University of Phoenix Stadium! We have a new World Cruiserweight Champion and, for the fifth time, it's the Wildchild! Let's go to Funyon for the official word!"

 

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

 

"The winner of this contest," booms Funyon.

 

 

"And… NEEEEEW…. SWF World Cruiserweight Champion: the WIIIIILDCHIIIIILD!"

 

 

 

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

Red Herrington finally locates the World Cruiserweight Title and slides back into the ring to return it to its rightful owner; Wildchild, for his part, is on his knees in the center of the ring, overcome with the emotion of what he has accomplished.

 

"Wildchild just took a step towards the elite here tonight!" exclaims Mak, as Herrington raises WC's arm in victory. "Now a five-time World Cruiserweight Champion, he has done something that only El Luchadore Magnifico has done before, become a five-time singles champion. But King, this win also enters him into an even more exclusive club: he is now the only wrestler in SWF history that has held two different belts on five different occasions!"

 

"I'll give him his due," King says reluctantly, as Wildchild heads to the corner, climbing up to the top turnbuckle to salute his fans. "This was his night; you could tell from the beginning of the match that he wasn't going to be denied. The only thing that I can hope for at this point is for Toxxic to end the nightmare; I don't think I could face it if both Wildchild AND Johnny Dangerous walked out of Genesis with singles titles!"

 

"A historic victory for the Bahama Bomber, without question," says Mak. "And we've still got two more big matches to come!" ELM motions to Wildchild to head over in his direction, so the Bahama Bomber exits the ring, where the Magnificent One extends his hand!

 

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

"That's what it's all about!" says Mak, as the current and future Hall-of-Famers shake hands. "El Luchadore Magnifico has just passed the torch to the Wildchild… And, as we get ready to embark on a new era here in the SWF, I can't think of anyone that's better suited to be the centerpiece of the Cruiserweight Division than this electrifying young man; what a job he did!"

 

Cameramen rush around the ring, all jockeying for position to get a good shot of the photo opportunity presented by WC and Mags standing side-by-side, the World Cruiserweight Championship between them…

 

 

As we:

FADE OUT

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

"Well, a lot of history being made here at Genesis and a lot at stake for the SWF superstars as ever. But, coming up next, the future of the SWF itself hangs in the balance. The direction for the coming months will be dictated by this next match, with the position of SWF Commissioner on the line. It's the current commander in chief, The Superior One himself, Tom Flesher putting his job at stake against an unlikely candidate in Landon "La Cucaracha" Maddix."

 

"Unlikely doesn't even begin to describe it." snaps King. "If this were a democratic vote, which it should be by the way..."

 

"Well, it is wrestling."

 

King glances at Mak but tries his best to ignore him. "...if this were a vote, Maddix would be the Ross Perot of the SWF. And this is a two party race! Could you imagine, Landon Maddix... I mean, our future in HIS hands?"

 

"Well some might say it couldn't be much worse than the current administration. Infact, I'm sure a few of those people are backstage right now glued to monitors with the rest of the roster."

 

"Like who!?"

 

"Like our World Champion maybe?"

 

"Come on, that was ages ago. And besides, that was mostly Joseph Peters' doing."

 

"Well, what about the Number One Contender? And then there's Chris Raynor, the crap with the Stables Title..."

 

King very audibly sighs and motions for his partner to stop.

 

"See, taken out of context, these all look quite bad. But..."

 

"King, the facts are, Tom Flesher has come under some heavy criticism recently over his management technique, shall we say. It seems like certain issues from the past have clouded his judgement. He's been abusing his power to carry out old vendettas, against the likes of those we just saw. And the accusation is, it's that counter-productive management that has led to our television contract for SWF Storm being held up indefinately."

 

"Come on Mak, Tom Flesher is a great Commissioner. Take it from a man who knows. He's a leader of men! He's a man who commands respect! He's seen and done it all in this company and in this sport, at amateur and professional levels!"

 

"But, he's got an ego problem." argues Mak. "I don't want to discount his contribution to this company and it pains me to speak badly of someone I've been associated with and known for so long. But when my job is hanging in the balance because of his bloody-minded attitude, it's hard not to find fault!"

 

"Look, relax. Tom will win tonight and the negotations over getting the TV contract back will all be sorted. I spoke to Tom earlier, Allison's busy with a head of the network as we speak."

 

"With a head or giving head?"

 

King's jaw drops, rendering him speechless. Only temporarily though I'm afraid.

 

"You better watch that mouth, at least until this match is over. I'd say you'd better hope Maddix wins but I doubt anyone really wants that. If it were up to him, we'd be giving Zyon at shot at the World Title tonight. That shows his level of judgment right there."

 

 

 

There really is no answer to that, so, here's a bell.

 

*DINGDING!*

 

"Lllladies and gentlemen, this contest is scheduled for one fall... and, it is for the COMMISSIONERSHIP of the Smartmarks Wrestling Federation!!!"

 

A buzz starts to sound out through the crowd at the announcement by Funyon, fans beginning to stand from their chairs on all sides of the arena. The buzz is promptly killed though as after the customary pause for dramatic effect, a familiar song begins to play.

 

‘When I was back in seminary school…’

 

The fans rise to their feet and boo the imminent arrival of the Commissioner.

 

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

That you can petition the Lord with prayer.

 

Petition the Lord with prayer?

 

Petition the Lord with prayer?

 

YOU CANNOT PETITION THE LORD WITH PRAYER!’

 

*BOOOM!!*

 

The opening riff of ‘Kashmir’ by Led Zeppelin rings out as blue pyro erupts from the soundstage. Through it emerges Tom Flesher, walking confidently to the ring for the first time in... uh... well, a while. You go look it up if you're that interested.

 

"Introducing first! He hails from Buffalo, New York... weighing in tonight at two hundred, thirty one pounds. He is the reigning and defending Commissioner of the SWF... also, a former two-time Heavyweight Champion of the World and an SWF Hall Of Famer... the one and the only... "THE SUPERIOR ONE"... TTOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMM... FFFFFLLLLLEEEEEEEESSHHHHHHHEEEERRRRRRRR!!!"

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

 

"Landon Maddix has been one of Tom's loudest critics," Mak continues, trying desperately to move on, "ever since Tom began his attempts to 'phase him out' of the main event spots. And when Tom came out on this past Storm and challenged his detractors, there was Landon again, offering his opinion..."

 

King scoffs.

 

"...which led to Tom, ego getting in the way of business again, to put the Commissionership up for grabs in a match here tonight, despite his long absence from the ring."

 

"That doesn't make a bit of difference Mak. Tom's still in great condition, he's heavily involved with a couple of wrestling schools and training facilities affiliated with the SWF, he has to keep himself in ring shape for that, he spars with some of the guys to relieve the stress of paperwork and the like. And at his best, he was at least twice the wrestler Landon Maddix will ever be."

 

Flesher slides into the ring and strips off his special gold warm-up suits and goes through some actual warm-ups.

 

 

"REACH OUT AND TOUCH FAITH!"

 

"YYYYYYEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

The lights dim, alternating between complete blackout and really frikkin' bright as "Personal Jesus" by Marilyn Manson hits. From behind the curtain steps Megan Skye, heralding the arrival of Landon Maddix who stops at the top of the ramp and thrusts his hands out to his side to cheers. The lights stop alternating but stay dimmed as Landon walks to the ring, looking more focused than you'd usually expect from the charismatic Cucaracha.

 

"And introducing his opponent. Accompanied to the ring by his "PERFECT 10", MEGAN SKYE! Hailing from Huron, South Dakota by way of Madrid, Spain... He weighs in tonight at two hundred, eight and three-quarter pounds. The former three-time SWF World Champion and your current, reigning SWF Hardcore Gamers Champion... here is LLLAAAAANNDDOOOOONN... "LA CUCARACHA!"... MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM - AAAADDIIIIIXXXXXX!!!!"

 

"YYYYYYEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

Landon leaps to the apron, looking out at the crowd in the University Of Pheonix Stadium as Megan climbs the steps. Megan holds open the ropes and Landon bounds into the ring, spinning himself into the centre of the ring and posing with Megan. Tom watches all of this from his corner, distinctly unimpressed by all of this.

 

"Tom's Genesis record in recent years is not great. And this man is one blot on that record, Landon Maddix pinning him at Genesis V three years ago. A repeat tonight will give this man ultimate power over the SWF."

 

"God help us."

 

 

*DINGDINGDING!*

 

"There's the opening bell... the future of the SWF, hanging in the balance right here."

 

Staring at each other from across the ring, Landon and Flesher look the exact polar opposites that they are. Tom is focused, eyes locked on Landon and his body sinking into a fighting stance as he starts to move out of his corner. Across the ring, Landon exudes confidence and more annoyingly looks almost nonchalant, walking out of his corner and leading the crowd in some rhythmic clapping.

 

"There goes Maddix, hot-dogging to these people already." King criticises. "I can't even bear to think what this place would be like under him."

 

"Maybe he'll bring back the Family Friendly edict?"

 

"Ugh!"

 

Flesher isn't bothered in the slightest by the reaction of the crowd and draws the circling 'challenger' into the centre of the ring, trying to tease him into locking up. Cautiously, Landon begins to accept the offer. But when he begins to think twice, Flesher takes the initiative, locking knuckles with La Cucaracha. By the one hand he pulls Landon in, sweeping out the leg and dropping him flat on his face. No sooner has Landon been dazed by that, over spins Flesher, mounting the back of his opponent. He rides La Cucaracha a little before sliding out in front and messing up the precious blonde locks a little, trying to get into Maddix's head as he backs away into a corner.

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

 

"Look at that," King marvels, "textbook wrestling right there. That's what we call taking someone to school Mak Francis."

 

"Who's 'we'!?"

 

"Me and Tom! And this is just the start, trust me. I told you Flesher's busy with the rookies training to be SWF stars, he's going to give Maddix the exact same wrestling lesson he gives them. And boy is it long overdue."

 

Composing himself, the arrogant look on Landon's face has gone now. Perhaps now he realises he's in a match. After all, Tom Flesher is Tom Flesher, no matter how long his hiatus has been. Maddix stretches out on the ropes a little before inching towards Tom again, who again offers the hand. Trying a different tactic, Landon arrows a kick towards it. Tom zips the hand away though and catches Landon while he's off balance in a rear waistlock, throwing him up into the air and bringing him down on his chest. Another riding session begins, Maddix trying to squirm from underneath Flesher but finding no escape and again getting slapped around before The Superior One lets him go. This time, the 'schooling' gets under Maddix's skin and he chases after Flesher. But the wily veteran simply ducks his head through the ropes, pulling referee Sexton Hardcastle in front of him and arrogantly telling him to back La Cucaracha away.

 

"Haha, brilliant!" applauds King, actually standing up to clap for Flesher. The Commish gives him a sly thumbs up.

 

"This is all sound strategy from Tom," calls Mak, sounding embarrassed at his partner's complete bias, "going to the mat and also trying to get in the head of Landon. He's a tempremental youngster, in comparison to the six year veteran Tom Flesher. And with the pace this slow, Maddix is at a distinct disadvantage."

 

Once Landon is suitably moved back, Tom comes out of the ropes and loosens up his wrists. Meanwhile, the crowd loosen up their tongues and voice their opinions on the current Commissioner.

 

"FLESH - ER SUCKS!"

"FLESH - ER SUCKS!"

"FLESH - ER SUCKS!"

"FLESH - ER SUCKS!"

 

Flesher's confidence at the way the match has started makes him impervious to the abuse of the crowd, circling Landon once more. As Landon looks yet more cautious to lock up this time Tom gets a little impatient. And eventually, he brings the match to a halt altogether. Holding up his hands, Tom tries to cut his opponent some slack and drops to all fours into the defensive amateur wrestling position.

 

"Tom, I guess looking for more of a challenge, giving Landon the initiative here..."

 

Looking for Megan to advise, Landon just shrugs his shoulders... and rolls Tom up with an Oklahoma Roll...

 

"...and he takes it!"

 

"HEY!"

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

Tom kicks out and rushes to his feet. Landon is up first though and ducks underneath the swing from The Superior One, running the ropes and leaping back at Flesher with a big forearm smash! Bouncing off the mat, Flesher climbs back up, right into the path of a second leaping forearm! Again Flesher is quickly back up. And again, he's quickly back down, from another forearm! Down stays Tom this time as Landon leaves the ring.

 

"Landon beginning the quicken the pace now, to where Tom Flesher is at a disadvantage."

 

"After taking advantage of his generousity!" protests King. "Since when has an Oklahoma Roll been a amateur wrestling move!?"

 

"Incase you hadn't noticed King, this is pro-wrestling. Hence the reason Landon is up top..."

 

...and, having scaled to the top turnbuckle, Landon waits for Flesher to stumble over before soaring through the air, cutting Tom down with a High Crossbody Block!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

No!

 

Pushed away, Maddix rolls all the way over to the far corner of the ring, crouched and waiting as Flesher pulls himself up. Looking a little flustered at the sudden increase of pace in the match, a rush of adrenaline fuels Tom into running at La Cucaracha as soon as he finds him in his sights. Landon looks surprised enough as Tom throws a big Yakuza in the corner...

 

 

 

...but as Maddix makes his move and sidesteps, Tom hits nothing but the turnbuckle. The annoyed Commissioner has to take a second to pull his foot from off of the top turnbuckle. And the moment he does, a dropkick catches him in the lower back, sending him tumbling through the ropes and to ringside.

 

"The Commissioner to the floor. And he's far from safe out there!"

 

As Flesher peels himself off of the thinly padded floor of the University Of Pheonix Stadium, it seems Mak's prophecy may come true as Landon starts to get the crowd behind him. Turning on his heels, he runs off the far ropes ready to dive. Flesher sees that coming a mile away though and quickly gets himself back onto the apron to cut Landon off... NO! Landon manages to put on the brakes in time to block the right hand thrown by Flesher, connecting with a forearm in return. A second. And a third. With Tom now wobbly on the apron, Maddix then turns and makes for the other ropes. Vaulting to the second rope, he springs himself back up and over the top, TAKING TOM OFF THE APRON WITH A CROSSBODY BLOCK!!

 

"YYYYEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

"BIG move by Landon!" shouts Mak. "And both men crash and burn to the arena floor!"

 

"Exactly, both men. An unneccessary risk."

 

Getting the better of the landing is Landon however, back up to his feet to pose for his legions of Arizona fans with a cheesy grin on his face. Megan is on his case to stop playing to the fans and stay on Flesher, which is easy said than done with an ego the size of Landon's. But he does catch Tom before he's back to his feet, pulling him the rest of the way up and dumping him against the barricade.

 

"So, if Landon does win tonight, will you be calling him 'Mr. Maddix' the way you do with 'Mr. Flesher'?"

 

"No, because I respect 'Mr. Flesher'." King fires back in an instant. "Anyway, what the hell is Maddix doing?"

 

Having rolled back into the ring, Maddix turns to the outside. Flesher is still slumped against the barricade and looking like a sitting duck as Landon starts to draw the crowd to their feet again. Sure enough, the people climb off their seats, trying to get a better view of the next death-defying leap from Landon, coming off the far ropes and taking a slight detour to the left. In one fair swoop, Maddix leaps to the top rope. And from there he leaps out, over the top and arrows towards Flesher...

 

 

 

...who moves...

 

 

 

 

*CRASH!*

 

...LEAVING MADDIX TO PLUMMET INTO THE UNFORGIVING STEEL BARRICADE, STERNUM FIRST!!!

 

"OOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"

 

"See! That's why you won't see Tom Flesher doing dumb moves like that, the risk is just as great as the reward, if not greater!" King critiques.

 

"Not that Tom could probably do that if he tried... but, yes, I take your point King. Landon took a second big risk in a matter of a minute and the law of averages caught up with him. This time, nobody home."

 

Tom stomps on Maddix for a few seconds, ignoring the demands of referee Hardcastle to finally bring the match back into the ring. The referee is forced to take action then and leaves the ring with the competitors, finally convincing Flesher to dump the winded Maddix back inside.

 

"LAN - DON!"

"LAN - DON!"

"LAN - DON!"

"LAN - DON!"

 

"Sexton with a tough job keeping these two on the straight and narrow tonight, as the crowd in Pheonix try to get behind Landon Maddix."

 

The pace has slowed right back to Tom's preferred pace now; methodical. Picking Landon up off the mat, Tom measures his opponent and drives his elbow into the sternum. The strike drops Landon right back to the mat where he gasps for air, completely at The Superior One's mercy. Looking to further impair the breathing of La Cucaracha, Flesher simply places his ASICS wrestling shoe over Landon's throat.

 

"ONE!"

"TWO!"

"THREE!"

"FOUR!"

"FI..."

 

Breaking on five, Tom is warned by referee Hardcastle. Of course, if anyone there's anyone in the SWF who doesn't need telling what they're doing, it's Tom Flesher. The Commissioner informs Hardcastle he has a five count to break, putting him in his place.

 

"That's right Sexton, remember who's writing those cheques." smirks King.

 

"After tonight, it might be Landon Maddix who's signing those cheques."

 

"Assuming he can actually sign his own name, of course. Megan seems to do everything else for him so, who knows."

 

While the 'discussion' between Commissioner and referee goes on, Landon has rolled to the ropes and used them to pull himself up. Flesher walks over a second later and gets met with a boot from Landon. And a second. The moment Landon comes off the ropes though, he gets caught, trapped in a bearhug by The Superior One. Flesher quickly deadlifts the two hundred, eight pounder off his feet and turns to the nearest corner, running his lower back into the top turnbuckle before letting him sink into the corner itself! Opening Landon up, Tom then fires off some boots of his own, stomping the proverbial mudhole into the chest of La Cucaracha and, yes, walkin' it dry.

 

"The chest, the ribs, the kidneys... Flesher trying to make things really uncomfortable for La Cucaracha here." Mak calls.

 

"He's trying to restrict the breathing. And if Maddix can't breathe properly, he won't be flipping and flopping around the ring, which pretty much leaves him with no offence what-so-ever."

 

Once Landon is slumped against the bottom turnbuckle, Tom stops for a second and turns him over. Landon is left facedown over the bottom 'buckle. And grabbing onto the top rope, Tom stands on his back, compressing his chest against the turnbuckle and basically choking Maddix out!

 

"COME ON TOM!

..ONE!"

"TWO!"

"THREE!"

"FOUR!"

"FI..."

 

To Hardcastle's frustrations, Flesher jumps off of Landon just in time to avoid the disqualification, having used all of the count possible. The wannabee authority figure is left sucking wind over the bottom turnbuckle, Megan coming around and trying to give her man some words of encouragement. He's pulled away from her via a handful of hair however, Flesher giving Megan a warning glance while he drives the point of his elbow down between Maddix's shoulder blades.

 

"Tom, just wearing down Landon here." observes Francise. "There's few better at dictating and controlling a match when they're on the offensive than Tom Flesher."

 

"That's why he's so successful. He's not going to make a lot of highlight reels but his name is etched in the record books, where it matters."

 

Pulling Landon up off the canvas, Tom executes a simple but effective body slam. The positioning is spot on too, putting Landon right next to the corner. Backing into a corner, Flesher kicks Landon's arm to his side and takes the ultimate risk... coming off onto Maddix with an elbow drop FROM THE BOTTOM ROPE!!

 

"AH-WOW-AH!" King hams-up. "That's the kinda of death-defying agility that won this man the Cruiserweight Championship of the world, right there! That'll go in the highlight reel!"

 

Flesher smirks a little as he checks for any sign of a nose-bleed after his trip to the (not-so) high rent district. The crowd jeer Tom like he's never been away, while he follows up on the elbow with a forceful lateral press...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

No.

 

Straight from the kickout though, Maddix finds himself trapped again, this time in a body-scissors.

 

"With damaged ribs, even kicking out of a pinfall is going to take something out of Landon." notes Mak. "Notice how Tom positioned all his body weight across Landon's chest, pressing the forearm over the face just to create more discomfort."

 

Maddix sits up with a pained expression on his face, trying to prise his hands in between the limbs of Tom Flesher. Flesher tightens up his grip though and Landon throws his hands up, a little in exasperation but mostly in sudden pain.

 

"Landon needs to watch himself here." Mak thinks aloud. "He's in perfect position for the King Cobra, if Tom wants to apply it this early in the match."

 

"Might as well. Get it over with, back to the daily grind."

 

"Is that his petname for Allison?"

 

"Well, I don't know about Tom but it's mine at least."

 

"..."

 

Looking lost for an escape, Landon starts to try and inch himself forward on his backside to place his feet on the ropes. Dragging 231 pounds behind him is no small feat though and he stays routed to the canvas. Maddix tries a different tactic though, getting his arms underneath Tom's legs and bridging on his heels, stacking Tom back on his shoulders...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

...but Tom kicks off quickly, taking Maddix right back into the body-scissors. Landon's body tenses in pain and he slumps to his side. Taking that as a sign his opponent may be beaten, Flesher turns over onto his front, using the body-scissors to position Maddix over onto his shoulders...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kickout!

 

Both men scramble to beat each other to their feet as they lose contact. Flesher looks to be a step ahead on the offensive. That is, until Landon throws...

 

 

*SLAP!*

 

"WHOOOOOOOO!"

 

...a knifedge chop! Tom stops dead in his tracks...

 

 

*SLAP!*

 

"WHOOOOOOOO!"

 

...as Landon throws a second chop...

 

 

*SLAP!*

 

"WHOOOOOOOO!"

 

...and, labouring a little, a third! Grabbing the arm, Landon then looks to irish whip Flesher... but Tom manages to reverse, stopping at arm's length and booting Landon in the gut.

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

 

The fans, dejected at the fightback being cut off just as it started, jeer Flesher as he returns the favour and whips Landon across the ring into a corner. As Landon staggers back out of the corner, Flesher then lands another boot and draws Maddix into a front headlock. However, Landon has clearly done his homework. And as soon as he feels the headlock beginning to sink in he stands bolt upright, backdropping Flesher overhead!

 

"Woah!" gasps a clearly surprised Suicide King.

 

"Landon with a counter there."

 

As Flesher, looking equally surprised, pulls himself up, he spins towards Landon. A second ahead though is Landon, springing up off his toes and executes a picture-perfect Dropsault!

 

"YYEEEEEEEEAAAAAAHHHHHHH!"

 

"And from out of nowhere was where that came!" shouts Mak. "That's the danger with someone as quick and resourceful as Landon!"

 

Unfortunately for Landon though, the 'sault part of the Dropsault causes him to land on his chest. And rather than capitalise on his tide-changing move, he's left rolling around on the mat holding at his ribs. Flesher is given a few extra seconds to clear his head as a result.

 

"LAN - DON!"

"LAN - DON!"

"LAN - DON!"

"LAN - DON!"

 

Egged on by the crowd, Landon pulls himself up and heads for the corner opposite that which Tom Flesher is pulling himself up in. Flesher tries to catch a breather in the corner, only to look up in horror as Landon suddenly comes flying towards him... crushing him against the turnbuckles with a leaping forearm in the corner! Side headlock applied by Maddix now, looking to run Flesher out of the corner with a Bulldog...

 

 

 

...but Flesher manages to put the brakes on. Lifting Landon off his feet as he slows to a stop, Tom redirects his opponent before throwing him off with enough force to send him bouncing into the ropes. Back comes Maddix, ducking underneath an elbow attempt from Flesher on the first burst. But as he hits the far ropes, Flesher gets his wits about him and catches Landon coming back with an Overhead Belly To Belly Throw, almost clean across the ring!

 

"OOOOOOHHHHHHHHHH!"

 

"Railgun Suplex by Tom, textbook execution." admires Mak.

 

"And the air rushing out of these mouth-breathers in the crowd, just like it did from Landon's lungs."

 

Sitting up, Flesher takes a moment to realise where Landon actually wound up landing. Once he does locate him though he quickly crawls over, hooking the leg deep for the cover...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NO!

 

Flesher wipes some sweat from his brow as he kicks Landon, hard in the back. And again, nothing fancy but certainly doing it's damage. As Landon tries to crawl for the ropes and a reprieve Tom stalks right above him, not letting La Cucaracha squirm from his grasp again, helping him off the mat and into an armbar for control. Just for a second, before he positions himself behind Landon, applying a chicken wing to both arms and stretching back to a shout of pain from The Next Generation!

 

"And the pace goes down again, Tom grabbing a hold, very wisely."

 

"And this is going to hurt your arms, sure," King points out, "but it's also putting a lot of pressure around the upper back and pulling at the chest muscles. Tom might pull on this hold until Landon's chest explodes open. That'd be a Genesis moment to remember!"

 

"No kidding." sighs Mak.

 

With Landon shaking his head, 'NO', the pressure is increased by Tom as he places his head right between the shoulder blades for extra leverage. The already dehabilitated Landon drops to one knee from the pain, allowing Tom even more leverage to work with. But the Pheonix crowd won't allow their man to go down without a fight, especially with Megan playing cheerleader on the arena floor. The crowd start to shout and clap, doing whatever they can to show they're behind La Cucaracha... which seems to open up a bank of reserve energy within Landon! And he pushes back to his feet, trying to fight the hold!

 

 

 

That is until Tom rams a headbutt into the lower spine. Twice.

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

 

Landon sinks to a knee again, at least free of the chickenwings. Small blessings, as Tom steps out in front and applies a front headlock. Throwing the arm overhead, Flesher then grips onto Landon's yellow and red shorts to hoist him up off the canvas, ready for a suplex. Flesher shows off his strength by leaving Maddix hanging overhead for a brief period to make him think about his imminent decline...

 

 

 

 

...before he throws Landon forward, letting him just freefall down to the canvas HARD on his front!!

 

"BIG Stalling Front Suplex from the, for the time-being, Commissioner!"

 

"Nevermind covering your hide with 'time-beings' Mak, I think Tom is fixing to end this at any second."

 

With Landon sat on his knees holding his ribs, Tom backs up...

 

 

 

 

*SMACK!*

 

 

 

...and NAILS Landon with a basement Yakuza Kick!

 

"Yep, there we go." smiles King, as Tom covers Landon up...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

...KICKOUT!

 

"YYYEEEEEEEAAAAAAHHHHHH!"

 

"No, Landon is still in this one!" Mak calls out.

 

The "LANDON 4 COMMISSIONER" signs are thrust into the air around the crowd as Tom looks up, questioning the count with referee Hardcastle. Landon rolls away as this is going on, Flesher keeping up his complaints even as he walks after his opponent. Against the ropes, Flesher hangs Landon out to dry before driving the knee into the gut. Flesher turns to say one last thing to Hardcastle before he then takes the arms from over the ropes, irish whipping Landon acro...

 

 

 

...NO! Landon spins out of the whip, breaking the contact...

 

 

*SLAP!*

 

"WHOOOOOOOO!"

 

...and landing another knifedge chop on The Superior One's chest! Flesher groans in pain, just as Landon gives him something else to nurse with a hard kick right across the back of the leg! Away hobbles Tom, rubbing at his hamstring to try and get some feeling back into it. Maddix gingerly follows after him and keeps his distance from any attempts to grab a hold...

 

 

*SMACK!*

 

...as he lines up another stinging kick to the leg!

 

"This is like the closing rounds of a heavyweight boxing match here," Mak exclaims, "this crowd reacting to each and every strike, shouting their approval for their favourite. And both these competitors are suffering."

 

"Tom's not really suffering, Mak."

 

"No, but Landon is rallying on him..."

 

Right on cue, Maddix tracks Flesher over to the ropes and fires off another kick, this one right up under the ribcage and dropping Tom to his knees with a strangled shout, the air rushing out of Tom's lungs!

 

"...in a MAJOR way right now! Maddix is hurting, he's breathing hard but he can still throw those dehabilitating kicks!"

 

"LAN - DON!"

"LAN - DON!"

"LAN - DON!"

"LAN - DON!"

 

Fueled by the energy of the crowd, Landon manages to ignore the pain in his ribs for long enough to first bring Tom back up to a vertical base and then whip him into the ropes. Flesher bounces back off the ropes and up goes Landon, looking for perhaps a hurricanrana or a monkey flip...

 

 

 

...perhaps the keyword, as Flesher catches the legs and pulls Maddix out of the air! Landon lands with a jolt on those aching ribs and stays prone as Flesher crosses over the legs, trying to apply the Texas Cloverleaf!

 

"OH! Superior Stretch, he's going for it Mak!"

 

"What a resourceful move! Tom has worked for this all match and if he gets it locked in, I can't see Maddix escaping!"

 

That's easier said than done though as Landon starts to squirm around to try and escape. He kicks and thrusts his legs, trying to untangle them, Tom just looking to turn La Cucaracha over to put him away. Landon manages to reach up though and latch onto Tom's singlet, keeping him at close range which not only stops him from turning the move but also allows Landon to connect on some right hands to the head of The Superior One! Eventually, Flesher has taken too many rights and is fought off, Maddix slipping his legs free and pushing them into Tom's chest to send him staggering backwards. Tom hits the ropes behind him and runs right back at Landon, who has climbed back up to his feet. Hand open, Flesher lunges forward with a Running Palm Strike...

 

 

 

...DUCKED! Maddix avoids the palm strike and takes Tom over in a Crucifix!!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NO, KICKOUT!!

 

"Ohhh..." groans King breathlessly, relieved to say the least.

 

"Maddix came within a split second of becoming the Commissioner right there!"

 

"Our stock just plummeted Mak. It's crashed. In the red. Down the crapper!"

 

Beating Landon to his feet, Tom goes to the gut with an instinctive knee. He then reverts to type and to gameplan by pulling Landon's arm back behind his back, trying to apply the time-tested abdominal stretch. Maddix has other ideas though, driving his elbow into the thigh muscle of Flesher, the same thigh muscle that is still numb from the kicks a little earlier. A few elbows weaken up Tom's body and his grip on the hold, freeing up Landon. The Next Generation goes to spin out of the hold... then suddenly goes back on himself, spinning the other way and surprising Flesher with a quick Jawbreaker!

 

"I've still got all the confidence in the world in Tom, but if my stockbroker happens to be watching right now... SELL! SELL! For the love of God, SELL!"

 

"I don't know if they get PPV in prison."

 

"What the hell is that supposed to mean!?"

 

No time to answer that as, having backed into a corner, Landon climbs to the middle rope and lures Flesher into a boot to the face! Tom staggers back a couple of steps, all the room Landon needs to come soaring off the ropes...

 

 

 

 

...AND SPIKE TOM ON HIS HEAD WITH THE FLYING DDT!!

 

 

"COME OOOOOOOOOOOOOONN!!!"

 

"YYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

"Landon is feeling it King! This crowd is feeling it! They're feeling like Maddix is going to knock Tom off at Genesis, again!"

 

With his war cry still ringing in the air, Maddix bends down and struggles to try and pull the loopy Flesher off of the canvas. Flesher shows very little co-operation, whether through not wanting to come back to his feet or not knowing where in the hell he even is, which forces Landon to exert a lot of energy to even get Tom up. He does so though. And as soon as he has Flesher up, he tries to lift him into a fireman's carry for the G2S...

 

 

 

...but CAN'T! Maddix's ribs won't allow him to get Tom up. With a grimace etched on his face he drops Tom back down...

 

 

 

...and leaves himself wide open for a thumb to the eye!

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

 

"Patented Tom Flesher!" sniggers King.

 

Swatting away at his stinging eye, Landon is temporarily blinded. But only on the one side, still able to see enough of his opponent on the other...

 

 

 

...to retaliate with his OWN thumb to Tom's eye!!

 

"YYYEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!"

 

"Patented Landon Maddix!" Mak sniggers right back.

 

"Now that's not right!"

 

Hardcastle watches on helplessly as the two prospective Commissioners stagger around the ring, throwing his hands up in defeat as if to say 'what can I do'? Both Landon and Tom are working on 20/10 vision right now and feel their way over to each other, Tom pushing off the ropes and looking a little woozy to go with his blurry vision. Flesher reaches out as the blurry figure of Landon comes towards him...

 

 

 

 

 

*WHAM!*

 

 

...but Landon suddenly leaps up and PULLS TOM DOWN ON HIS HEAD WITH A DIAMOND CUTTER!!

 

"YYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

"That's the Cucaracha Cutter! Could it be!?"

 

"No!"

 

Inching his way over to Tom, Landon rolls the acting Commissioner over, dropping on top with just three seconds to become the new Commissioner...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

"NO!"

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

"KICK TOM, KICK!"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TH...

 

 

 

 

 

NO, ONLY TWO!!

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

 

"OH thank you!" gasps King, before chugging down his glass of water. "Thank you Tom, thank you!"

 

Megan looks on and tries to hide her disappointment as she routes Landon on, sensing her man needs an extra boost right about now. Landon wipes the hair from his face and holds his ribs as he despairs at the match still not being over.

 

"You need to calm down there buddy. Don't worry, I'm sure Landon won't hold all those things you've said about him against you." smiles Mak.

 

Coming to his feet with Tom in tow, Landon takes him over with a snapmare and flattens him out on the mat, before heading up top.

 

"Great snapmare from Landon." compliments King as sincerely as he can muster.

 

"Oh brother..."

 

Slowly but surely, up the turnbuckles climbs... well, nearly crawls Landon. He struggles up the turnbuckles, heading to the top, Flesher not moving below him in the ring. Landon reaches the top and looks out at the Pheonix crowd, the Genesis crowd. He sets himself, up top. And he leaps...

 

 

 

...pumping the arms and the legs...

 

 

 

 

 

 

...and MISSING the Frog Splash!!

 

"OOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

Landon clutches at his ribs again as he hobbles to his feet. Creeping up behind him comes Flesher, wrapping up Landon in a waistlock and taking him over with a German Suplex....

 

"With a bridge!" adds on Mak, as Tom holds on...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

KICKOUT!

 

"No, only two! Tom almost profited from another high-risk gone array by La Cucaracha!"

 

"Tom's got to go for the kill." King advises. "Maddix is so sneaky, he's hurt but unfortunately that doesn't mean he's beat. Tom's gotta forget about the ribs and just pick Maddix up and drop him on his head if he has to, anything to end it!"

 

Pulling himself up by the ropes, Flesher rubs his eyes, trying to get as much of his vision back as possible. Maddix uses the turnbuckles to help him up and lays in the corner, breathing heavily.

 

"LET'S GO LAN - DON!"

*clap clap clapclapclap*

"LET'S GO LAN - DON!"

*clap clap clapclapclap*

 

Coming out of the corner Landon gets the toe of the boot in the breadbasket from Flesher, but brushes it off and fires off a quick forearm. Caught by surprise, back staggers Tom, before moving in with another, firmer boot. Flesher then grabs a front facelock and hoists Landon up, looking perhaps for another Front Suplex...

 

 

 

 

...but Maddix floats over and lands safely on his feet behind Tom, spinning The Superior One around and connecting with a boot of his own. Hooking the head, Landon then shuffles over to the corner and starts to scale the turnbuckles, pushing up off of the top with the Sitout Shiranu...

 

 

...NO! Flesher gets up and under Maddix, pushing him off. Again Landon manages to land on his feet. But this time, Tom throws an instinctive mule kick, catching Landon up under the ribs to wind him. Over doubles Landon, Tom turning around and pulling his opponent right into a standing headscissors and motioning that it's going to be OVAH as he sets up Maddix for a rare Powerbomb...

 

 

 

 

..NO! Going with the momentum, Landon pushes off of the top of Tom's head and comes out in front, instantly jumping onto Tom and latching onto his head with a front facelock. Landon then locks the legs with the bodyscissors, trapping Tom Flesher in Wet Cement!!

 

"YYYYYEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

"HEY! He can't do that! That's Tom's move!"

 

"That's Grand Theft Taamo!" corrects Mak.

 

"Whoever thought that up ought to be fired. Awful."

 

Still on his feet, the current Commissioner starts to walk forward, trying to carry the two hundred eight pounds latched around his neck. The circulation of blood to the brain is being cut off though and Flesher makes it no more than three steps before sinking forward. Landon nods his head, pulling on the modified choke with all his might as Flesher uses what conscience he's got to wag his finger 'no' to indicate he's still in the match.

 

"Fight it Tom, fight it!"

 

King's words of encouragement are drowned out by the thousands in the crowd, urging The Superior One to tap out or pass out. But Flesher isn't about to relinquish his position of power so easily. From his bent-double position Tom lets out a gutteral shout as he muscles Landon up, getting himself back upright. Maddix still has the front gullotine applied. But, from his position, Tom can drop to a knee... and JAR Landon's spine with a Manhattan Drop!

 

"OOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHH!"

 

Maddix lets go of the hold and clutches his tailbone, the woozy Taamo staggering around for a second while he gets his bearings... before LAYING OUT La Cucaracha with a lunging Palm Strike!

 

"What a shot! Right upside the head with the palm of the hand, about all Tom could muster up right there and he got all of it." calls Mak.

 

Glancing up, Tom sees how close he lays to Landon and simply drapes his arm over his chest...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

SHOULDER UP!

 

Megan breaths a sigh of relief and starts to clap for her man again, as both he and Tom wearily start to drag themselves up again.

 

"It's gutcheck time at Genesis VIII, all on the line, the Commissionership and total power of the SWF hanging in the balance between these two former World Champions. Two of the most decorated athletes in SJL and SWF history letting it all hang out on the biggest stage of them all!"

 

With the crowd virtually carrying these two men right now they come to their feet. Tom has his focus first and throws another palm strike. But Landon instinctively raises an arm to block, slapping Tom in the face quickly with his other hand...

 

 

*SLAP!*

 

"WHOOOOOOOO!"

 

...opening him up for another knifedge!

 

 

*SLAP!*

 

"WHOOOOOOOO!"

 

...and a second!

 

 

*SLAP!*

 

"WHOOOOOOOO!"

 

...make it a third! Sucking wind, Landon draws in enough energy to execute an irish whip, sending Tom across the ring and into the turnbuckles opposite. Landon then follows in with a lazy clothesline, enough to keep Tom off balance while he positions himself behind and pushes himself up onto the middle ring rope. The crowd come to their feet, sensing Crash Landon, as Maddix puts his hand on Tom's shoulder, spinning him around...

 

 

 

 

*SMACK!*

 

 

 

...VENUS PALM STRIKE~!

 

"That's the set-up!" gasps King. "He's going for the Boilermaker from here, I know it!"

 

Sure enough, the legs of La Cucaracha are re-positioned over the turnbuckles and Tom pulls himself up onto the middle rope with his opponent! Megan's eyes bulge as she sees exactly what's about to happen, shouting towards her man as Tom grabs the head, going for the arm... until Landon suddenly sparks to life. A punch to the gut. Another. And another, Landon trying to fight Flesher off. It's a long way up for Tom Flesher and Landon Maddix. And, after a desperation headbutt and a shove to the chest, a long way DOWN for The Superior One!!

 

*WHAM!*

 

"YYYYEEEEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!"

 

"Tom couldn't get it though! Maddix fought him off, I don't know if he had The Boilermaker scouted or whether he was just fighting on instincts... either way, he escaped it though."

 

Having shaken himself up with the headbutt, certainly not a move in his regular repetoire, Landon looks a little unsteady as he unstraddles himself and goes back to the middle rope. Flesher drags himself up, shaken too after his hard landing. He staggers towards Landon with the hope of cutting him off, but ends up walking right into his arms, Maddix hooking up the head and pushing himself off the turnbuckles...

 

 

 

...spinning...

 

 

 

...around...

 

 

 

...and DOWN WITH THE CRASH LANDON!!

 

"YYYYYEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

"Crash Landon! He pulled it out of the bag, the big move for the big occassion!"

 

The crowd erupt as Landon, fist clenched and face grimacing, pulls himself over Tom, leg hooked...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Mak...

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

"...it's been great working with ya..."

 

 

 

 

 

 

AND...

 

 

 

NOOOOO!!!!

 

"WHAT!?"

 

"It's not over!" King gasps breathlessly. "You spoke too soon Mak!"

 

"Me!? You just gave your notice on live Pay Per View for crying out loud! But it's NOT over, Tom Flesher is STILL in this match! Unbelievable!"

 

"You never count Tom out! Never!" cheerleads King, as in the ring Landon can be seen looking over despairingly at a stunned Megan Skye, checking with her that it was only two and not three. The fans start to come down and the premature cheers are replaced with some embarrassed murmurs from those who had begun celebrating already.

 

"It was the Crash Landon that beat Tom Flesher at Genesis V. But, three years on, it's not to be."

 

Wiping the sweat from his eyes, Landon bends down, pulling on Tom's singlet in an attempt to lift him back to his feet. Flesher shows no signs of wanting to go, earning him some shots to the back and a kick to the shoulder, Landon perhaps beginning to lose his composure now. Hooking the head he brings Tom up off the canvas and drops to a knee, using all the strength he has left to elevate Tom up... into the fireman's carry!

 

"He got him up!" gasps Mak. "Will Tom Flesher Go 2 Sleep?"

 

 

The answer?

 

 

 

NO! Tom squirms free of the fireman's carry and slides down Landon's back with a handful of his blond hair in his hands. And by that hair he drags Landon back, right into a firm knee buried low in the kidneys! Maddix falls to a knee in pain as, still with the hair, Flesher pulls him right back onto his feet. Ducking down, Flesher then elevates Landon up over his shoulders.

 

 

Only, not into a fireman's carry, but into the Torture Rack.

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

 

"Oh no..."

 

"Tom, don't do this!" Mak unconsciously shouts. "Don't be that guy!"

 

"Go ahead, drop him!" argues King. "You've gotta do what you've gotta do!"

 

Megan can't watch, as Tom walks into the centre of the ring, carrying the helpless Maddix. Getting his position, Tom then bends at the knees and jumps, sitting out...

 

 

"HE'S GONNA BREAK HIS NECK!"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

....NO!!!!! Maddix manages to flip all the way over and land on his feet, much to the now seated Tom's surprise...

 

 

 

*SMACK!*

 

 

 

"SHINING WIZARD!!"

 

"NOOO!"

 

The crowd erupt, as Landon dives on top of Flesher...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THRE...

 

 

 

NO!!!!!!!! ONLY TWO!!!

 

 

"My God he kicked out again!!"

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

 

Holding his head in his hand, Landon's mouth hangs agape as Hardcastle holds up two damning fingers. Megan slams her hands into the ring apron in frustration and takes it out on the referee, Landon left too stunned to even question the count.

 

"I don't know if Tom even knows where he is. But, instinctively, the shoulder came up off the canvas!"

 

"This a lesson to us all Mak. We should never lose faith, never question religion again. There is a God... and his name is Tom Flesher!"

 

Looking around with a look on his face as if to say 'what more do I have to do beat him?', the wide-eyed Maddix starts to pull Flesher up again. At first the Commissioner shows no signs of resistance. But, once to his feet, Flesher suddenly breaks away contact with the unfocused La Cucaracha and jams him with a headbutt right in the middle of the sternum!

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

 

"Zidane Special!"

 

As Maddix staggers away, Tom then barges into Landon from behind...

 

 

 

 

...sending him into the turnbuckles, connecting with the top buckle shoulder first! Maddix staggers right back out of the corner holding the arm and sure enough, Tom tries to zero in on it, spinning Landon around and throwing him up and over his shoulder for the Shoulderbreake...

 

 

 

...NO! Maddix kicks his legs and manages to plant them on the mat. The momentum of him hitting the ground turns the tables too and, thinking quickly enough now, Maddix manages to use the momentum to help him power Tom up over his shoulder!

 

"What is this?"

 

Struggling to hold Flesher up, Landon knows he has to act quickly. And, letting Tom slide down a little, Landon quickly turns away from the ropes before dropping...

 

 

 

 

 

 

*WHAM!*

 

 

 

...AND SPIKING THE SUPERIOR ONE WITH A TOMBSTONE PILEDRIVER!!

 

"OOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

"That's GOT to be all!" predicts Mak.

 

Reaching forward, Landon grabs onto Tom's legs and stacks him on his shoulders, tightly as possible as the crowd count along...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREEE!!!!

 

 

*DINGDINGDING!*

 

"YYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

"It's over! He did it! Landon Maddix is... the boss!"

 

 

"Ladies and gentlemen, your winner of this contest and the NEW Commissioner of the Smartmarks Wrestling Federation... LLLLAAAAAAAAAANNDDOOOOOOOONN "LA CUCARACHA"... MMMMMMAAAAAAAAAADDIIIIIIIIIXXXXXXXXXXXX!!!"

 

"YYYYEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

Landon rolls to his feet and breathes a heavy sigh of relief as Megan slides into the ring. The new truly Power Couple of the SWF embrace in the ring as the fans go crazy in the stands. Suicide King is strangely quiet as Landon is helped to his feet and his hand raised in the air.

 

"Landon Maddix is the new Commissioner! And now, so many questions arise. Where do we go from here? What does this new era mean for the SWF? And who will be the World Champion to begin the La Cucaracha administration? One of those questions will be answered imminently, the main-event coming next!"

 

The celebrations continue as we quickly fade away to a video package for the main-event.

 

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

GENESIS GENERALLY AWESOME MEMORIES

Sponsored by Pepsi Max

 

 

--

 

“REGAL STRETCH!” Riley shouts. “Tap you bitch, tap!”

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

Toxxic leans back and pulls with all his might. Johnny Dangerous lets out a strangled noise of pain, but right now the British rookie doesn’t care if he breaks his opponent’s neck. All that matters is that he wins this match and can finally shut the fans up.

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

Johnny claws at the canvas with his one free arm and reaches futilely for the ropes, but to no avail. He can’t stretch that far, and he can’t haul himself and Toxxic across the ring. For once in his SWF career, the Superspy is thoroughly, utterly trapped.

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

He doesn’t give up. He keeps reaching for the ropes, keeps fighting for a way to escape the pain even though Toxxic is wrenching back further and further.

 

 

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

 

 

And Johnny doesn’t give up.

 

 

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

 

 

And Johnny doesn’t give up.

 

 

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

 

 

And Johnny Dangerous, SWF World Heavyweight Champion... goes limp.

 

 

 

*DING-DING-DING!*

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

Even though the crashing opening chord of ‘Rookie’ rings out over the Rose Bowl, Matthew Kivell has to grab Toxxic and shake him to make the straight-edger realise what has happened. It takes a moment or two for the SWF’s senior official to get the message through, but then Toxxic almost gratefully releases his hold and rolls away from the unconscious former champion.

 

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, HEEEERRREEEEEE IS YOUR WINNER,” Funyon’s voice booms out, still nearly drowned out by the chorus of disapproval in the Rose Bowl, “AND NEW SWF WORLD... HEAVYWEIGHT... CHAMPION... THE ‘STRAIGHT-EDGE SENSATION’... TOOOOOOXXXXXX-IIIIIIIIIIIC!!!”

 

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

“Fans, when this broadcast concludes the SWF as we know it will no longer exist,” Mak Francis says solemnly, “we no longer have a TV deal, and until we get one back we will have to make do as best we can. It’s going to be a hard changeover to make and we hope that you’ll stick with us as we go through this difficult period… but before that happens, we have one match left, a match that has the potential to define history, the last SWF match that Tom Flesher will ever book. The match for the SWF World Heavyweight Title.”

 

The Smarktron abruptly kicks into gear, dividing into two. On one side is a classically handsome, well-tanned Caucasian male with dark hair slicked back and a winning smile, looking out at the camera over an expensive pair of shades. He wears a form-fitting black T-shirt, and his waist is adorned by a large and ornate gold title belt. Large letters appear on-screen to identify him for those with chronic memory problems.

 

JOHNNY ‘THE BARRACUDA’ DANGEROUS

SWF WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

On the other side of the screen is almost a distorted reflection; like and yet unlike. Another Caucasian male, slightly younger and far paler; pretty-boy good looks as opposed to Johnny’s GQ style; blue-black hair spiked upwards instead of slicked back; dark eyeliner instead of the shades, and a lopsided grin that doesn’t reach his steel-grey eyes. This man wears a red England soccer shirt, and holds a title belt in each hand.

 

‘THE STRAIGHT-EDGE SENSATION’ TOXXIC

SWF TAG TEAM AND STABLES CHAMPION

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“Three years ago at Genesis V these two men met for the World Title. Johnny was the champion then, as now; Toxxic was victorious on that occasion, but it remains to be seen whether he will manage that again,” Mak Francis states. “If Johnny wins he not only wins at Genesis for the first time, but he hands Toxxic his first Genesis defeat; if Toxxic wins he becomes the first five-time SWF World Champion in the company’s history. Whichever man wins becomes the figurehead for the SWF as we head into this new chapter of our existence, will it be the fan favourite Johnny Dangerous, or the man the people love to hate, Toxxic?”

 

“Mak, I know that you among others feel that I am a biased commentator who shamelessly calls matches for his favourites, regardless of what events may actually be occurring,” the Suicide King begins.

 

“True.”

 

“Well, in light of that I’d like to point out that Johnny Dangerous is a joke and if he’s our figurehead we’re up to our necks in it.”

 

“Thanks King,” Mak sighs, rolling his eyes behind his Oakleys, “well, with that contribution let’s take it down to the ring…”

 

…and every light in the arena hits full. The Smarktron whites out.

 

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

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

 

…and a rolling, raucous soccer chant blasts out of the PA system, following instantly by the menacing, oozing bassline of ‘The Gush’ by Raging Speedhorn. The Smarktron starts to darken down to black, jagged white letters flashing up a familiar slogan one word at a time:

 

‘PREPARE TO BE PROVED WRONG…’

 

Three chords ring out; the Smarktron changes to show Toxxic being knocked from the top rope to the floor by a springboard gamengiri from Nathaniel Kibagami; then being taken off the top rope with a Super Mark of the Beast by Gabriel Drake; then being chokeslammed out of the Clusterfuck by Janus. The shot changes once more to show Toxxic taking Mike Van Siclen off a balcony and through a table, starting to strobe as it does so and intercutting with Toxxic’s grinning face, the devastating landing timed to coincide with the moment the song kicks into gear and the-

 

*BOOOM!!*

 

-stagewide explosion of red pyro that announces the arrival of the SWF’s premier straight-edger! And through the flame and smoke…

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

…red and black canvas trenchcoat flapping behind him as he strides out…

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

…lopsided grin plastered over his face as he looks around at the packed arena…

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

…Tag Title belt wrapped around his waist, Stables belt dangling from his right hand…

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

…comes the challenger.

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“Toxxic isn’t the strongest, he’s far from the best mat wrestler, he’s not the best brawler or the best striker, he’s not even the best high-flyer,” Mak Francis states. “He’s not the Total Package, he’s not the best-rounded athlete on the roster. What he is, is probably the best proponent of a fluid, counter-punching pro-wrestling style that we’ve seen in the company, ever. Some wrestlers have a strength that they play to - Tom Flesher would control the pace of the match, take it to the mat and when he let you up, it was usually only to drop you on your head. Wildchild utilises his amazing speed and agility to run rings around the opposition. Wrestlers like Janus, Va’aiga, Thugg would dominate a match with awesome, explosive power, while pugilists like Silent, Danny Williams or Divefire would simply stand up to you and batter you with strikes. Toxxic doesn’t have a particular strength; what he has mastered is the art of simply saying ‘come and beat me’. He doesn’t have the insecurity from when he debuted; his arrogance may be unbearable, but he backs it up. His reputation intimidates and forces the opponent to try something to win the match, and when they’re over-extended he will capitalise with whatever lends itself to the occasion.”

 

Toxxic pauses at the bottom of the ramp, unbuckles his Tag Title to hold in his left hand, crosses his arms briefly in the straight-edge ‘X’ symbol, then throws them wide as another explosion of red pyro erupts from each ringpost.

 

*BOOOM!!*

 

“He certainly is adaptable,” King replies, “and he’s got that knack of so rarely being where he’s meant to be when his opponent is looking for that one big move to put him away. You know I don’t like his tendency to flip-flop around the ring a bit, but I’ve gotta concede, it gets the job done. You don’t go January 1st until October with only one singles defeat by being careless.”

 

“Another thing to consider,” Mak Francis nods as Toxxic rolls into the ring, comes up to his feet and hands both his title belts to Matthew Kivell, “Toxxic’s win-loss record is perhaps the best in the federation’s history. That sort of psychological edge can’t be underestimated, especially when going up against someone who has a tendency to choke in the big events. Johnny Dangerous may be World Champion but he’s without a win on Pay-Per-View this year, he’s never won at Genesis… and he has a less-than-stellar singles record against Toxxic.”

 

‘The Gush’ fades out as Toxxic strips off his trenchcoat and his England soccer shirt (which he hurls into the crowd, for the hell of it). Then the lights drop down…

 

‘JOHNNY DANGEROUS…’

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

…and the sultry female voice whispers out the speakers as a bank of strobe lights start pulsing at the top of the entrance ramp and ‘After The Flesh’ by My Life With The Thrill Kill Kult kicks up.

 

‘I am the new way to go. I am the way of the future.’

 

Strobes around the edge of the stadium start to pick up the rhythm, flashing in time to the music and illuminating the crowd in split-second freeze-frames.

 

‘I am the new way to go. I am the way of the future.’

 

The guitars come in, and now twin searchlights start to pan over the crowd. People rise up off their seats and throws their hands in the air, hoping to be briefly immortalised on television, but the searchlights aren’t looking for them. They track over and around, then come back and suddenly focus straight down onto the soundstage where, emerging into the University of Phoenix Stadium…

 

‘There’s a lot of innocent people…’

 

…comes Johnny Dangerous.

 

‘…being crucified.’

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“Just listen to this reception for the Barracuda!” The Franchise yells as the arena explodes with noise. “Johnny Dangerous will have the support of the crowd tonight, and that could be his edge!”

 

For a few seconds Johnny doesn’t move. A close-up shot shows the Barracuda breathing deeply, evenly, the strobes reflecting off his shades and giving him an almost robotic air as he stands nearly motionless at the top of the entrance ramp. Then he reaches up to lower the shades, takes them off and in one fluid motion hurls them into the crowd (sparking a further boost of cheers) before setting off down the ramp towards the ring. And towards destiny.

 

“Johnny Dangerous is best known for his tag team career with his partner the Wildchild,” Mak Francis reminds viewers, “but don’t underestimate this man’s individual contribution. A former Intercontinental-Television Champion, he was the inaugural holder of the International Title and was the man who named it. Wild & Dangerous have twice broken the record for longest Tag Title reign ever, and are the most successful tag team wrestlers this company has ever seen, both individually and collectively… and on top of all that, Johnny Dangerous is a three-time World Champion, including a win over Toxxic back in 2004 to derail his first title reign when the Straight-Edge Sensation seemed to be on an unbeatable run.”

 

“Mak, I’m not in denial of what Johnny’s achieved,” Suicide King says as Johnny high-fives a few fans on the entrance ramp but keeps his eyes locked on the ring, “although I may have my queries about how much of it was due to luck rather than judgement. But think about this for a moment; Johnny has beaten Toxxic one-on-one once, and that was over three years ago. Since then he’s beaten him in a couple of tag team matches, he won his second World Title by beating Ejiro Fasaki, the man who ended Toxxic’s second World Title run, he won his third World Title by beating Alan Clark, who much as he annoys me has really stepped up his game this year and is the only person to defeat Toxxic in singles competition in 2007... but in all their one-on-one matches since that match in 2004, Toxxic has come out on top. Johnny can beat people who’ve beaten Toxxic, he can beat Toxxic when he has a tag team partner, but he can’t do it in a singles match.”

 

“King, statistics may back you up, but at Genesis statistics go out the window,” Mak Francis argues as Johnny jobs up the ring steps and hops lightly over the ropes. “This is the biggest show of the year, and Johnny Dangerous knows that. He comes into this match with the whole-hearted support of the fans, and he comes in knowing his record at Genesis, on Pay-Per-View this year and against Toxxic. If anything, he has nothing to lose because the odds would seem to be stacked against him a little.”

 

“He has the World Title to lose,” the Gambling Man counters, “and he will lose it.”

 

Johnny climbs a turnbuckle and spreads his arms to the fans, who respond by rising out of their seats and letting out a healthy cheer to show their appreciation of the Barracuda.

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“JOHN-NY!”

“JOHN-NY!”

“JOHN-NY!”

 

Johnny then drops back down to the mat and unbuckles his World Title which he hands to Matthew Kivell before performing a couple of quick stretches to limber up. Kivell nods to Funyon, who steps forward.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, it is time for the MAIN EVENT OF THE EVENING!” Funyon thunders.

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“The following one-on-one contest is scheduled for one fall with a one-hour time limit, and is for the SWF World Heavyweight Title!” Funyon booms. “When the bell goes, the man in charge; SWF Senior Official Mr. Matthew Kivell.” The veteran ring announcer takes a deep breath as Kivell nods in acknowledgement, then winds up and gets into the swing of things.

 

“Introducing first, in the corner to my right, the challenger; from Nottingham, England, he stands six feet tall and weighs in tonight at 218lbs; he is the leader of SWF Stable Champions, Revolution Zero, and is one-half of the SWF Tag Team Champions; he is one of the two longest-reigning Tag Team Champions of all time, he is the longest-reigning World Champion of all time, he is a four-time former World Heavyweight Champion… this is ‘THE STRAIGHT-EDGE SEN-SA-TIONNNNNNNN’… TOXXXXXXXXXXXX-IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIC!!”

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

Toxxic spreads his arms and grins lopsidedly, soaking in the boos as if they were cheers.

 

“And his opponent, in the corner to my left,” Funyon declares, “from Las Vegas, Nevada, he stands six feet and one inch tall and weighs in tonight at 225lbs; he is one-half of the most successful tag team in SWF history, and is the REIGNING AND DEFENDING THREE-TIME SWF WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION… JOHNNY… ‘THE BARRACUUUUUUUUUU-DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA… DANNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN-GEROUSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!”

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

Johnny raises one arm in acknowledgement of the cheers of the fans, not taking his eyes from Toxxic’s face. Matthew Kivell steps forward and the camera on the ring apron just picks up his voice as he beckons the two wrestlers towards him.

 

‘OK, this is it. You both know the rules, obey my instructions at all times. I want a good clean match, may the best man win.’ He looks from side to side dubiously. ‘Main event of Genesis, guys. You wanna give us a handshake?’

 

Johnny Dangerous, face unreadable, stretches out his right hand towards Toxxic, who looks down at the proffered limb in surprise.

 

“Johnny’s handing Toxxic a cheap shot here,” King scoffs, “idiot.”

 

“King, you know as well as I do that whatever else Toxxic may disrespect, he does not disrespect the rules,” Mak argues. “He might try and break your neck as soon as the bell has gone, but he won’t strike you before it does. Johnny knows his man, he’s just looking for a gesture suitable for the occasion.”

 

“Hey, I can dream.”

 

Toxxic tilts his head to one side, looking at Johnny quizzically. There’s never been any love lost between the two men. Johnny gestures around with his free hand as if to remind his opponent where they are. The main event of the SWF’s biggest show… and the SWF might never be here again.

 

Toxxic shrugs, extends a black-nailed hand, and shakes.

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

The contact is broken quickly and each man takes a few steps backwards. Kivell turns around and signals to the timekeeper…

 

*DING-DING-DING!*

 

“…and we’re underway!” Mak shouts as the two men start to circle each other. “King, earn your pay; what should Johnny Dangerous’s tactics be, going into this match?”

 

“Pray.”

 

“King…”

 

“Or he could run away, lose by countout, keep the title,” the Gambling Man suggests.

 

“King, Landon Maddix is now in charge of the SWF,” Mak Francis states baldly, “how much do you trust his business model? I don’t know how many more events we’ll be calling; would it kill you to be objective, for once?”

 

“Ah hell,” King sighs, “you may have a point. OK, this match will be all about positioning for Johnny. He favours his martial arts kicks, and he can potentially do a lot of damage with them. If he allows Toxxic room to move he’ll get outmanoeuvred easily, but if he gets too close Toxxic can brawl with him. Taking it to the mat would be a risk for either man, they’re too closely matched to be sure of getting an advantage. Johnny needs to press Toxxic, not give him room to start flying but keep him at the right distance; Toxxic favours European uppercuts, headbutts and that discus clothesline, but he needs to be standing virtually next to you to hit them. If Johnny can pick off some kicks and wear him down, he’ll be able to hit his explosive power moves and take Toxxic out of his game. Wind him to stop him moving, work on the ribs and back that Bruner pummelled on Storm, that’s what I’d do.”

 

“OK, and Toxxic?” Mak asks.

 

“He needs to keep his mobility at all costs,” King states flatly, “Johnny’s stronger, but we know virtually all Toxxic’s moves target the head. If he can disorientate Johnny with facebusters, enzuigiris and whatever else he has up his sleeve he’ll maximise his speed advantage and be able to take Johnny apart without the Barracuda being able to mount a defence. But, if he goes high risk too soon he could crash and burn and hand the match to Johnny on a plate.”

 

“One other thing worth bearing in mind,” Francis adds as Johnny and Toxxic finally start to close, “Toxxic is prone to tapping out. He’s lost the World Title twice on submissions, once to Landon’s Land Of Nod and once to Ejiro Fasaki’s Cobra Crossface; Scott Pretzler beat him with the Snowflake Clutch, and his only singles loss this year came from Alan Clark’s Panic Attack. He doesn’t have the resilience to withstand a submission… and Johnny always has the Barracuda half-crab up his sleeve.”

 

Toxxic finally has had enough of this dancing around and advances for a lock-up, but just as he’s about to lunge into contact with Johnny the Barracuda lashes out with a leg aimed at the straight-edger’s left thigh! It connects with audible impact and Toxxic recoils, chagrin showing on his face as Johnny keeps his focus.

 

“LET’S GO JOHN-NY!”

 

Toxxic cracks his neck from side-to-side and advances on the World Champion again, makes another lunge… and Johnny catches him with another kick! Toxxic hastily backpedals out of range once more, and this time Johnny grins and beckons him in.

 

“LET’S GO JOHN-NY!”

 

The Barracuda seems to be gaining in confidence as the fans start chanting louder, but Toxxic is nothing if not persistent and the Englishman closes in again. He goes for a lock-up once more and Johnny kicks again, but this time Toxxic raises his leg and checks the kick, then before Johnny can react he snags the champion’s arm and takes Dangerous over with an arm drag! Johnny lands on his back but keeps his wits about him, and as Toxxic heads to follow up Dangerous whips his legs around in a sweep that forces Toxxic to hurdle; the Barracuda takes this opportunity to scramble back up off the mat and away from Toxxic, regaining a vertical base and the ready stance. The crowd applauds politely but the chants continue.

 

“LET’S GO JOHN-NY!”

 

“LET’S GO JOHN-NY!”

 

Toxxic sighs theatrically and advances towards Johnny again; the Barracuda watches him approach and as the Englishman once more looks for a lock-up Johnny lashes out with the other leg this time… but Toxxic read it and drops to catch the kicking leg on its way up, then heaves himself upright and falls backwards to drop the flailing Dangerous with a one-leg flapjack! Toxxic scrambles back up and leaps, looking to drive a jumping double stomp into Johnny’s back, but Dangerous rolls sideways to evade his opponent before whirling around on the mat with another sweep which takes Toxxic’s legs from under him and dumps him down onto his back! Johnny dives on top to make a cover…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…and Toxxic kicks out, in no danger of losing the match but very much in danger of losing face! The fans start to cheer louder as Johnny takes hold of the Englishman when they both start to rise and kicks him firmly in the ribs before Irish whipping him into the ropes; however, Toxxic rebounds and ducks under Johnny’s attempted elbow smash, and as the Barracuda turns around Toxxic grabs his head in both hands and drops down into a sitout jawbreaker!

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

Johnny staggers back and Toxxic kips up, then launches himself immediately into the air looking for his surprise enzuigiri. Dangerous ducks under the kick but Toxxic is agile enough to land on his feet, then reach back and grab the surprised champion by the head to snapmare him over into a sitting position before laying a kick into his spine!

 

*CRACK!*

 

Johnny screws up his face in pain as Toxxic briefly motions to the crowd as if for support, which has predictable results…

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

The Englishman’s smile widens and he backs off to the ropes, then runs forward again looking to emulate the players in his sport of choice and score a penalty with Johnny’s back; the Barracuda is ready for him though, and as Toxxic approaches Dangerous suddenly spins around and snares his leg, causing him to topple onto his face and capturing one leg to come up…

 

…into the Barracuda.

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“Johnny’s going for it already!” Mak shouts, but Toxxic has no intention of sticking around for this and scrambles away, all three free limbs working full-time to pull him away from Johnny’s grasp. He succeeds and manages to wrench his leg away from the Barracuda, but Dangerous has no intention of giving him space and follows up with punishing kicks to the legs and ribs as Toxxic tries to get some separation…

 

*CRACK!*

 

*CRACK!*

 

*CRACK!*

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

Toxxic seems to be in full retreat, but suddenly the Englishman bulls forward; Johnny is taken off-guard by the change from defence to attack, and now he’s inside his opponent’s guard Toxxic starts unloading with European uppercuts!

 

*WHAM!*

 

*WHAM!*

 

*WHAM!*

 

It’s Johnny who’s staggering now, and Toxxic grabs a front facelock, then stretches his right arm out to prepare for the Unfinished Business, only for the Barracuda to lash up with one foot in a scorpion kick that catches Toxxic square in the face! The Englishman releases his grip and grabs his face involuntarily; Johnny straights up and lashes out with a spinning backfist…

 

…which Toxxic ducks…

 

…so Johnny continues his rotation, then launches himself into a backflip kick that catches the startled straight-edger on the crown of his head, dropping him to the canvas in a stunned heap!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“What amazing agility from Johnny Dangerous!” Mak shouts as Johnny piles into a cover and Kivell drops to count…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…but Toxxic kicks out again! Johnny is eager to make the most of his advantage and delivers a couple more kicks to his opponent’s ribs before hoisting Toxxic up onto his shoulders into a Fireman’s carry. The Barracuda takes a couple of steps as a run up, then flips forward to dump Toxxic down backfirst into the mat with the Spinal Explosion and drive all the breath from his opponent’s lungs!

 

“LET’S GO JOHN-NY!”

 

“LET’S GO JOHN-NY!”

 

The momentum of the move carries Johnny back upright, and the Barracuda raises one arm in the air before pointing at the nearest set of turnbuckles; the resulting cheer from the crowd seems to reinforce his course of action and Dangerous hoists himself up to the second rope, then ostentatiously flexes his arm before coming off to drive the elbow into Toxxic’s chest.

 

*BANG!*

 

“Well King, you’d have to admit that by your logic Johnny has wrestled a smart match so far,” Mak says, “he’s limited Toxxic’s offence and has been wearing him down…”

 

Johnny makes a cover and Kivell dives to count.

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…but Toxxic kicks out!

 

“…and while these covers might not be winning him the match they are forcing Toxxic to expend energy in kicking out,” Mak continues. “Then you have to consider the frustration element for Toxxic, not being able to get a pin attempt of his own.”

 

“Mak, if you start to frustrate Toxxic he just figures out ways to hurt you in exchange,” King says, “Johnny Dangerous hasn’t figured that out yet, but he will.”

 

Dangerous takes hold of his opponent and starts to pull him up off the canvas, then places Toxxic into a front facelock and holds three fingers up on his other hand. The crowd pops in anticipation of the rolling vertical suplexes and Johny throws Toxxic’s arm over his head, then hoists the straight-edger up…

 

…and Toxxic knees him hard in the head, prompting Johnny to lose his concentration and dump the Englishman back down. Toxxic lands on his feet, wriggles free of his opponent’s grip (not that hard with Johnny momentarily stunned) and jumps upwards to wrap his legs around the Barracuda’s head before snapping backwards into a hurricanrana!

 

“See!?” King crows as Johnny skitters across the mat before coming to rest on the ring apron, saved from falling to the floor by a firm grip on the bottom rope.

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

Toxxic rises back to his feet, wincing at the pain in his ribs but with enough breath to flip a v-sign at the crowd. He turns to regard his handiwork and spies Johnny starting to get to his feet, still on the other side of the ring ropes. Well now, that won’t do at all… so he runs across the ring and leaps into the air to springboard off the second rope on one side of the turnbuckles, flies over the ropes and snares Johnny with another hurricanrana, this one taking him all the way to the floor of the University Of Phoenix Stadium!

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“And if at first you don’t succeed, try try again!” King shouts.

 

Toxxic staggers up to his feet, holding his ribs for a moment, then rolls back into the ring under the bottom rope. Matthew Kivell looks sideways at the straight-edger, well aware that he can’t win the title on a count out and wondering why Toxxic isn’t bringing Johnny back in, but shrugs and starts to make his count.

 

‘One!’

 

“Toxxic took the risk there, but it paid off for him,” Mak Francis says with grudging appreciation. “My only question would be, will he be able to follow up or is he going to give Johnny too much time to recuperate?”

 

‘Two!’

 

Johnny Dangerous starts to push himself to his feet, clearly disorientated. He had the match going the way he wanted, but then he got hit in the head and thrown around a couple of times and right now he’s not exactly sure where he is…

 

‘Three!’

 

…and things are about to get worse as Toxxic comes pelting back across the ring and launches himself over the top rope to come crashing down onto the Barracuda with a running somersault senton!

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

The crowd rise in their seats to voice their disapproval at the Straight-Edge Sensation’s actions, but their opinions matter little to Toxxic as the Englishman starts to pick himself up off his crushed opponent with that familiar lopsided grin on his face. In the ring, Matthew Kivell places his head in his hands briefly before starting his ring-out count again.

 

‘One!’

 

Ever the showman, Toxxic holds one finger up to the referee in a ‘wait a second, I’ll be right with you,’ gesture, then drags Johnny up to his feet and goes to Irish whip the Barracuda into the guardrail. Unfortunately for Toxxic Johnny is able to reverse the momentum and send his opponent careering towards the steel instead, but unfortunately for Johnny Toxxic has the presence of mind to vault up onto the guardrail before leaping back with a diving clothesline for an improvised Role Reversal!

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

‘Two!’ hollers Matthew Kivell.

 

“Toxxic is a master of improvisation and he might hold the advantage on the outside, but he needs to get Johnny Dangerous back in the ring,” Mak Francis opines, “he can’t win the World Title out there and he’s an experienced enough campaigner to know that.”

 

‘Three!’

 

Toxxic brings Johnny up off the deck again, and this time rolls him into the ring under the bottom rope. The Englishman doesn’t immediately follow however; instead he climbs up onto the apron, takes the top rope in both hands and then slingshots himself into the ring, coming down with a flying kneedrop onto Johnny’s skull! Dangerous spasms in pain as he takes the impact, but Toxxic quickly applies a cover and Matthew Kivell drops to count…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…but Johnny kicks out!

 

“LET’S GO JOHN-NY!”

 

“LET’S GO JOHN-NY!”

 

“Toxxic’s got Johnny now,” Suicide King declares, “but what he needs to do is take the fight to him quickly and effectively. Johnny has the unfair advantage of not having had to face Tracey Bruner on Storm, and he’s already started targeting the midsection which is the same area that Bruner went to work on.”

 

“King, Storm was two weeks ago,” Mak argues, “I think Toxxic should have healed up in two weeks, shouldn’t he?”

 

“Well, Johnny hasn’t had a match in three weeks. Unfair, like I said!”

 

While Toxxic would probably be mad to hear King making pre-emptive excuses for him he seems to be coming to the same conclusions strategy-wise as the Gambling Man; he grabs Johnny as the Barracuda starts to try and get up to his feet and traps the World Champion with both arms around his torso, then lifts Dangerous off his feet and kicks out his legs to fall into the Sambo Slam. Johnny crashes back down hard with the breath knocked from his lungs while Toxxic rolls over and gets back to a vertical base before heading to the nearest turnbuckles. Once there he grabs the top rope in both hands and vaults to the top buckle, then leaps back off it and turns in mid-air to land a fistdrop right between Johnny’s eyes!

 

*BANG!*

 

“Unos!” King shouts.

 

“…what?”

 

Toxxic gets back up to his feet and heads back to the turnbuckles before vaulting to the top rope again. Once more he leaps off, and once more he lands his fistdrop in Johnny’s face.

 

*BANG!*

 

“Duos!”

 

“Shut up.”

 

Toxxic isn’t done; the Englishman rises up again, then raises his clenched fist and shouts out to the crowd…

 

‘One more?’

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

Toxxic shrugs and heads over to the turnbuckles for a third time. This time he elects to climb up instead of vaulting quite so athletically, perhaps electing to save his energy a little, but once there he kisses his fist and leaps off into the air to come down…

 

*BANG!*

 

…exactly where he did the previous twice.

 

“Trios!” King shouts as the crowd boo some more.

 

“King, this is Toxxic, not El Luchadore Magnifico,” Mak reminds his partner.

 

“Are you telling me I can only count in Spanish when there’s a Mexican in the match?”

 

“Well, no, but-”

 

“Then keep your face shut and concentrate on the action!” King chastises the Franchise as Toxxic makes another cover, hooking the leg as he does so…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…but Johnny kicks out again!

 

“LET’S GO JOHN-NY!”

 

“LET’S GO JOHN-NY!”

 

“Toxxic now looking to make Johnny expend a little energy,” Mak says, “you’ve got to think that a faster pace will suit Toxxic so he needs to keep the tempo up.”

 

Indeed, Toxxic appears to want to do just that. He pulls Johnny up off the mat again, then Irish whips the Barracuda into the turnbuckles. Dangerous hits hard and the impact winds him long enough for Toxxic to charge in and leap into the air, nailing Johnny with a leg lariat and controlling the ricochet off with superlative agility to land on his feet on the apron! Johnny staggers forward out of the corner and Toxxic scrambles to the top rope, then reaches out to snare a reverse facelock in preparation for the Final Shine.

 

Only he wasn’t expecting Johnny to bring both hands up, palms flat, and slam them into his ears.

 

“Toxxic got caught!” Mak shouts as the Englishman releases the hold in pain, “Johnny needs to-”

 

*SMACK!*

 

“-capitalise!”

 

“YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

The spinning, leaping Shotei that Johnny Dangerous just delivered to Toxxic would probably have been audible in the top rows of seating even without the ring mics. Johnny takes a moment to regain his focus as Toxxic sways groggily in his seated position on the top rope, but the rising cheers of the fans urge him on. The Barracuda sets himself, then starts to climb up the turnbuckles towards the stranded straight-edger. Toxxic is in no condition to pull a fast one right now, so Johnny turns around to face away from his opponent before reaching up and settling the Englishman onto his shoulders in a Fireman’s Carry…

 

“Look out!” Mak shouts as the crowd starts to rise in anticipation…

 

…and Johnny flips forward off the second buckle, driving Toxxic backfirst into the mat with a Super Spinal Explosion!

 

*WHAM!*

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“JOHN-NY! JOHN-NY! JOHN-NY!”

 

“HE HIT IT!” Mak Francis shouts, “that’s the move that put away Alan Clark! That’s the move that won Johnny Dangerous the World Title!”

 

“No it’s not!” King shouts desperately, “that was off the top rope, not the second! And he’s taking too long Francis…”

 

Johnny coughs some air back into his own lungs and reaches back to hook Toxxic’s leg. It’s not the most scientific cover in the world, but it’ll have to do for now.

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

“…I’m telling you…”

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

“…he’s taking…”

 

 

 

 

THR-

-but Toxxic kicks out!

 

“…too long!” King finishes with relief as the fans groan in displeasure. “He took too long to cover, I’d hardly call that a cover anyway, it wasn’t off the top rope and Clark had taken a hell of a lot more punishment in that match than Toxxic has in this! That never had a hope of ending it!”

 

“King, a lot of people in this stadium thought Johnny Dangerous had done it right then and there, and I know that you were one of them,” Mak Francis tells him flatly. “If you’ve finished yelling about what you want to be true in the hope that’ll make it come true, can we call the damn match?”

 

Johnny Dangerous is looking over at Matthew Kivell in surprise, clearly thinking that he’d done enough to take this match home. The referee signals that no, it was only a two, and Johnny’s shoulders slump for a second before the Secret Agent rallies and starts to gather Toxxic up off the mat. He brings the Englishman back to his feet, then slips behind him and tucks his head under Toxxic’s left arm before hoisting upwards…

 

“MI SLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAM!” Mak shouts.

 

…but Toxxic bucks his body, slipping off Johnny’s shoulders and down to snag his arm around his opponent’s and take the Barracuda over with a falling armdrag!

 

“DENIED!” King bellows as Johnny goes tumbling across the mat and Toxxic lands in a semi-controlled fashion. Johnny shakes his head and starts back up to his feet, but Toxxic is moving with the speed of desperation to prevent Johnny from regaining control of the match and beats him to the punch… literally.

 

RIGHT!

 

 

LEFT!

 

 

RIGHT!

 

 

LEFT!

 

 

Toxxic backs off a step, flips his opponent a black-nailed V-sign, then steps forwards into a

 

 

DISCUS CLOTHESLINE…

 

 

…which Johnny ducks! Toxxic staggers past him as his momentum carries him off-balance and Dangerous wraps both arms around his opponent’s waist from behind, then heaves the startled Englishman overhead with a German suplex into a bridged pin! Matthew Kivell dives to count…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…but Toxxic fires a shoulder off the mat, and the match continues! Johnny fully intends to stay on top and the Barracuda scoots around to his opponents head where he applies a front facelock before bringing Toxxic up to a vertical base. The Straight-Edge Sensation does his best to wriggle free but Johnny puts paid to that with a knee to the gut; this time he doesn’t waste any time in showboating, and instead hooks Toxxic up quickly before bringing him up and over with a vertical suplex.

 

*BANG!*

 

“LET’S GO JOHN-NY!”

 

“Johnny’s going for the rolling verticals here,” Mak comments, “and you’ve gotta think that if he can drive the wind out of Toxxic he’s going to be able to dictate the pace of this match.”

 

Johnny rolls his hips and swings himself up to his feet; Toxxic isn’t exactly helping on the way up but Johnny’s got enough strength left to haul his unwilling opponent up after him, then pull the same trick off again…

 

*BANG!*

 

“LET’S GO JOHN-NY!”

 

Johnny rolls his hips again; it isn’t as easy this time around to bring Toxxic back up, but the Barracuda grits his teeth and drags the winded Englishman into something vaguely approaching uprightness. It doesn’t matter, he’s not going to stay that way long…

 

*BANG!*

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“Johnny Dangerous can perform the same basic wrestling move three times,” King grunts, “good reason to cheer, morons.”

 

Johnny rolls back to his feet on his own this time and looks down at Toxxic on the mat, the straight-edger doing a fair impression of a freshly-landed fish with a vacant stare and gasping mouth. Johnny grins…

 

…and looks towards the turnbuckles.

 

“Johnny Dangerous heading for the top rope here,” Mak Francis notes as the Barracuda steps out to the apron and begins climbing, “he may not be quite as frequent a visitor as Toxxic, but he knows his way around a high-flying match. You only have to look at his tag matches with Wildchild to see that!”

 

“LET’S GO JOHN-NY!”

 

“LET’S GO JOHN-NY!”

 

Johnny has now reached the top rope and the Barracuda takes a quick look around the arena before standing upright, taking a deep breath and leaping off to flip through the air…

 

…backwards.

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

Hundreds of camera flashes go off around the University of Phoenix Stadium, professional and amateur, people trying to get a picture for the sporting magazines, and people trying to get a memento of the day they attended the biggest event in sports entertainment. Hundreds of films and memory cards capture the image of Johnny Dangerous in mid-air, halfway through the Shooting Johnny Press, the move that won him his first World Title against this very opponent.

 

Some people are too slow off the mark, and don’t press the button quickly enough.

 

*WHAM!*

 

These are the people who get the picture of Johnny crashing to the mat where Toxxic was a split-second before he rolled away.

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“He moved! Toxxic moved, and Johnny Dangerous just ate canvas!” Mak Francis yells, “that’s why they call it high risk, folks!”

 

“Close but no cigar, Fishboy!” King chortles in the general direction of the Barracuda.

 

Toxxic looks over at Johnny Dangerous, who like him is prone on the canvas. The Englishman only mustered the energy to roll away from that dive at the last moment, but he can’t afford to lie around now. Besides, he has his own memory of a previous meeting to act upon, so he pulls himself over to Johnny on all fours before grabbing the Barracuda’s legs and starting to lock them together.

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

“It looks like Toxxic’s going for the Regal Stretch!” Mak calls, “this is how he beat Johnny when Johnny passed out in this move at Genesis V!”

 

But even though his ribs have just taken a pasting from the ring, Johnny Dangerous isn’t out of it enough to let himself be tied up in this well-remembered hold. Toxxic leans forward to try and grab the ¾ nelson facelock that completes the move, but Dangerous lashes backwards with an elbow that catches the Englishman square in the face; Toxxic wobbles, trying to retain his balance with his legs tied up in his opponent’s, and Johnny nails another elbow that strikes Toxxic in the jaw and knocks him from off the World Champion’s back as the crowd starts to cheer again!

 

“LET’S GO JOHN-NY!”

 

“LET’S GO JOHN-NY!”

 

Toxxic rolls away holding his face; Johnny winces and starts to get back to his feet, eyes fixed on his opponent to ensure the Straight-Edge Sensation doesn’t come up with any other nasty surprises. However Toxxic appears to be concentrating solely on his own pain and Johnny reaches a vertical base before adopting a side-on stance towards his opponent, waiting for the right time to move. Toxxic starts to rise as well, eager to get into a more mobile position, and turns around just at the right moment for Dangerous to take a quick side-step towards him, then lash out one foot with the Johnny Kick!

 

*whap*

 

…which Toxxic catches in both hands, then hurls away to his left. Johnny is spun round in a circle and Toxxic allows his own momentum to carry him around 360 degrees as well before stretching out one arm to level Dangerous with the discus clothesline!

 

*WHAM!*

 

Toxxic quickly adjusts his position, throwing all his weight onto Johnny’s chest and hooking the leg…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…but Johnny kicks out!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

Toxxic slams his hand down on the mat in anger, gets up and directs a few choice words at Matty Kivell, but the cockney ref isn’t going to be intimidated by this and tells Toxxic to get on with the match. Toxxic clearly isn’t happy but shrugs and turns back to Johnny Dangerous to see the World Champion starting to pick himself up off the mat. Toxxic grins and drops into a slight crouch, ready to make his move at the opportune moment…

 

…and as Johnny Dangerous wobbles up to his feet, facing away from Toxxic, the straight-edger charges. He runs past Johnny and grabs a ¾ facelock as he goes, towing Dangerous towards the turnbuckles and an imminent Sunny In England, only for Johnny to react at the last moment and give Toxxic a healthy shove in the back that sees the challenger cannon chest-first into the corner as his grip fails on his opponent’s head!

 

“Johnny had Toxxic scouted,” Mak calls as the Englishman staggers back out of the corner, “can he follow up?”

 

Yes, yes he can. Johnny slips his arms underneath Toxxic’s to secure a double chickenwing and hoists upwards taking the challenger up off his feet. Toxxic yells out in pain but Johnny doesn’t want to see if he can keep his opponent up there long enough to get a submission; he’s just interested in turning around to face the centre of the ring and driving Toxxic facedown into the mat with the Dangerous Driver!

 

*BANG!*

 

Johnny untangles one of his arms and uses the other one to roll Toxxic over onto his back, then applies a cover. He makes sure to hook his opponent’s leg as Kivell drops to make the count…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THR-

-but Toxxic kicks out!

 

“LET’S GO JOHN-NY!”

 

“LET’S GO JOHN-NY!”

 

Johnny Dangerous looks a little sceptically at Matthew Kivell but the SWF’s senior official is adamant that his count was correct; accordingly Johnny sighs and starts to hoist Toxxic up off the mat, looking for the big hit that might put him away. Toxxic’s ribs are clearly hurt, the Dangerous Driver not having helped on that front, so Johnny slips behind his opponent again and ducks his head under Toxxic’s left arm in preparation for the MI Slam again… but Toxxic suddenly comes to and starts firing right hands into Johnny’s head as hard as he can! Dangerous tries to back away but Toxxic has a good grip on him, and when Kivell starts to intervene Toxxic turns around, rears back and delivers a headbutt to his opponent!

 

*CRUNCH!*

 

Johnny staggers and Toxxic presses his attack, unleashing another headbutt…

 

*CRUNCH!*

 

…and then another, which causes Dangerous to slump back against the ropes!

 

*CRUNCH!*

 

“He’s bust him open!” Mak shouts as Toxxic grabs at his own head - hard as it is you can’t keep hitting someone with it without some side effects, but sure enough the Franchise is right and Johnny Dangerous is bleeding from his forehead. Toxxic takes a second to register this fact, then grins and reaches up to wipe a smear of his opponent’s blood from his own head before grabbing the dazed Dangerous in a front facelock and hauling him out to the centre of the ring. The Straight-Edge Sensation holds his right arm out to the side, then whips it around and down to drive Johnny’s face into the mat with the Unfinished Business!

 

*BANG!*

 

Johnny lands hard and Toxxic quickly rolls him over, then makes the cover…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

THR-

-but Johnny kicks out!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

Toxxic fires a glare at Matthew Kivell but doesn’t waste time in arguing with the referee again; instead he gets back to his feet and starts to try and pull Johnny up. Dangerous isn’t all that with it so Toxxic has to work for it, then pulls the Barracuda into a standing headscissors and applies a double underhook. The Englishman takes a deep breath - this is going to hurt - then hoists Johnny Dangerous UP…

 

…AROUND…

 

…AND…

 

…DOWN!

 

*WHAM!*

 

“Stephens Shock Syndrome!” Mak Francis shouts, “Toxxic got it, but can he cover?”

 

Not immediately. The Straight-Edge Sensation holds his ribs and grimaces in pain, the stress on his hurt midsection and back clear to all those watching. However, Toxxic knows that if he can get this he might have Johnny so after a couple of seconds he manages to roll the Barracuda over onto his back and makes his cover…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR-NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“Johnny kicked out! This match is still going!” Mak Francis yells as Toxxic slams his hands into the mat in frustration. The straight-edger isn’t going to let up now though, so once more he drags Johnny Dangerous back up towards a vertical base. He has a plan for what to do next but he wants to make sure Johnny isn’t going to disrupt it, which is why he takes the trouble to get Johnny up again only to wrap his arms around his opponent’s chest before lifting and dropping with the Sambo Slam again.

 

“You can really tell that Toxxic’s hurt,” Mak notes, “he didn’t get a lot of height on that lift.”

 

“He got enough,” King counters as the straight-edger struggles up to his feet and head towards the turnbuckles, “and hopefully we’ll now see him put Johnny away.”

 

“‘Hopefully’?” Mak asks. “Jesus, you really aren’t confidant tonight, are you?”

 

Toxxic leans on the ropes in the corner and considers his options. What he really wants to do is hit his uber-flashy triple-jump moonsault known as the Radford Calling. Well, no, what he really wants to do is stop moving around and have a lie down, but that’s not really an option. So he settles for a compromise of grabbing the top rope and starting to climb up to the top buckle. Just this once, it won’t kill him to hit the bloody move without the flip-floppy set-up… especially since it might kill him to try the whole thing.

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

Toxxic reaches the top rope, takes a deep breath, takes a quick look over his shoulder to make sure Johnny Dangerous is still there and then leaps backwards. This is going to hurt, but with any luck this is not going to hurt me more than it hurts you…

 

*CRUNCH!*

 

…but luck is absent tonight, as Johnny Dangerous gets his knees up right into Toxxic’s ribs!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

The crowd erupts as Toxxic rolls away, clutching his midsection. Johnny rolls over and forces himself up to his knees, grimacing in pain. The Barracuda has taken a beating but he, like his namesake, knows when it’s time to move in for the kill. He swipes at his forehead and wipes away the blood that’s threatening to run down into his eyes, then wipes his hand on his pants leg and staggers up to his feet. Toxxic is also trying to rise but the straight-edger is doubled over in pain and Johnny sees this as the perfect opportunity. He stands up, takes a few hurried steps forward and leaps into the air, reaching out one leg to bring it down on the back of his opponent’s head for the guillotine face driver that his tag team partner calls the Caribbean Cutter…

 

…but Toxxic manages to swing his upper body away at the last moment and Johnny’s leg gets nothing but air. Dangerous tries to readjust at the last moment and lands in an unbalanced crouch; he throws out one arm to steady himself but Toxxic has reacted faster and wraps his arms around the Barracuda’s neck with a sleeper hold!

 

“Toxxic trying to shut Johnny down!” Mak calls as Dangerous tries to fight up to his feet. Toxxic appears to be happy for Johnny to do just that, and it’s only when he’s upright that the Barracuda’s brain overrides his instincts and he wonders exactly why Toxxic has let him up so easily.

 

Which is about the same time as Toxxic’s right arm suddenly releases its grip and slides under Johnny’s in preparation for the Sleeper Suplex.

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

The crowd roar their disapproval as Toxxic starts to hoist backwards for the head-dropping move that could very well spell the end for Johnny Dangerous… but then breaks off, grimacing in pain and returning Johnny to his feet after only getting him a couple of inches off the ground!

 

“JOHN-NY!”

 

“JOHN-NY!”

 

“Toxxic couldn’t do it!” Mak shouts, “and now Johnny’s fighting free!”

 

Sure enough Dangerous is firing elbows backwards into Toxxic’s ribs, punishing the straight-edger’s midsection still further until Toxxic has no choice but to release his grip. Johnny looks to capitalise and drops to the mat, sweeping his legs around to lock on his opponent’s and pulling the Englishman down with a drop toehold… then grabs hold of Toxxic’s left leg and comes up to his feet, pulling the limb down over his shoulder and settling into the Barracuda!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“He’s got it locked in!” Mak shouts, “Toxxic’s ribs have taken a battering, and now Johnny Dangerous has got him trapped!”

 

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

 

Toxxic yells in pain and reaches instinctively for the ropes, but they’re a long way away. He’s not going to get out of this the easy way.

 

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

 

But there’s something familiar about this situation.

 

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

 

Johnny leans forward, trying to put as much pressure as possible on his opponent’s body, but as the TV cameras focus on Toxxic’s face the viewers watching around the world see a grin creep across the straight-edger’s face. A pained grin certainly, but still a grin.

 

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

 

Gotcha.

 

Toxxic pushes up with his arms, forcing his upper body off the canvas. For a second the pain is increased, but that second is long enough for him to tuck his head under his body and throw all his weight into a forward roll. Johnny is leaning forwards anyway, and the leg hooked over his shoulder now serves as a useful lever. The Barracuda falls forwards as the resistance on the hold disappears and lands on his front…

 

…with Toxxic already lacing his legs together.

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“YES!” King roars as the Englishman leans forwards and takes advantage of Johnny’s momentary dazed condition to grab a ¾ nelson facelock, “Regal Stretch! Just like at Genesis V! He countered out of the Barracuda into this three years ago Mak, and now it’s just a matter of time!”

 

“PLEASE DON’T TAP!”

 

“PLEASE DON’T TAP!”

 

“King, I do believe you’re right!” Mak calls back, “Johnny Dangerous thought he had the match won but Toxxic caught him the same way as he did at Genesis V - but I don’t know if this will be the end this time! Look at Toxxic!”

 

The Straight-Edge Sensation’s face is screwed up in pain as he hauls back on the Regal Stretch, almost as much pain as Johnny is in whilst on the receiving end of the hold. The Regal Stretch is an incredibly painful STF variation and very difficult to escape from… but it’s not easy to keep locked in. In fact, when your ribs are already on fire, it’s virtually impossible.

 

 

“PLEASE DON’T TAP!”

 

 

And Johnny Dangerous doesn’t give up.

 

 

“PLEASE DON’T TAP!”

 

 

And Johnny Dangerous doesn’t give up.

 

 

“PLEASE DON’T TAP!”

 

 

…and Toxxic releases the hold and rolls off his opponent, holding his ribs!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“JOHN-NY!”

 

“JOHN-NY!”

 

“What did I tell you?” Francis crows as King places his head in his hands, “Toxxic couldn’t hang on! This match will continue, and now Johnny needs to capitalise!”

 

Easier said than done. Johnny Dangerous is trying to push himself up but he’s taken as much punishment as Toxxic and neither man is moving quickly. Johnny manages to get to his knees, then pushes up to a vertical base but just receives a right hand to the jaw for his trouble as Toxxic moves in to reassert himself on the match! Johnny staggers and Toxxic quickly mimes cracking open a can and taking a swig…

 

“Oh, he won’t get the Caffeine Bomb,” King moans, “not if his ribs are that bad!”

 

Toxxic begs to differ. He steps forward, bends smartly at the knees and takes Johnny Dangerous up into a Fireman’s carry; lifting with his knees not his back, just like manual handling procedure says.

 

“Well, he could use the Mk II,” Mak admits.

 

Toxxic reaches up towards the kicking legs of Johnny Dangerous to try and hook one. He knows the spin-them-off-your-shoulders approach isn’t quite as hard-hitting as his usual method, but under the circumstances it certainly seems worth a try… and he manages to grab one of Johnny’s legs.

 

So Johnny Dangerous starts pounding his skull with elbows in a determined effort to not be dropped on his head.

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

Toxxic staggers sideways, trying to keep his balance and keep Johnny on his shoulders. He succeeds on one count but not another, as the Barracuda manages to push himself away and off and land in an awkward crouch with one arm outstretched to prevent him from sprawling on the canvas.

 

“JOHN-NY!”

 

Dangerous explodes up and lashes out with a roundhouse kick aimed at Toxxic’s head, but the straight-edger ducks it and, as Johnny’s momentum carries him around, reaches back up to grab his opponent’s head and pull him down into the Underkill!

 

*BANG!*

 

Toxxic reaches forwards to hook his opponent’s leg as Matthew Kivell dives to make the count…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“Johnny kicked out! Toxxic’s going to have to do more than that to win this match!” Francis yells as the crowd erupts once more.

 

“Mak, I think it’s going to take something special!” the Suicide King opines, “these two men have got to know each other so well over the years, they’ve got each other scouted brilliantly. I honestly believe that one of them is going to have to come up with something out of the ordinary to put the other guy away!”

 

Toxxic squeezes his eyes shut, then opens them again; perhaps in the hope that when he does so Matthew Kivell will be handing him the World Title. This is not to be however, and the Englishman pushes himself back to his feet with resignation before heading for the turnbuckles once more.

 

“Toxxic’s going high-risk again,” Mak comments as the Straight-Edge Sensation begins to climb, “at this stage of the match this could be a make-or-break move!”

 

Toxxic reaches the top rope - not without some grimaces, but he gets there - and surveys the scene. Johnny hasn’t moved from where he left him, but Toxxic hasn’t got the energy for anything truly spectacular. So he leaps off and performs a forwards somersault in midair to bring a leg down on the Barracuda’s throat with the Hangover!

 

*BANG!*

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

Toxxic winces as the aftershocks of landing travel through his ribs, then swings his body around to cover Johnny…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THHHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“TWO! TWO!” Mak roars as Johnny Dangerous just fires one shoulder off the mat, “he’s still in it! The Champion is still in it!”

 

“Instinct!” Suicide King spits, “that was just instinct, nothing more! Johnny Dangerous doesn’t know when to quit!”

 

“No he doesn’t,” Mak fires back hotly, “and not knowing when to quit is the instinct of a champion, King!”

 

“Hey, I won an I Quit match with Edwin!”

 

“Only by injecting your jaw with anaesthetic so you couldn’t speak!”

 

Toxxic just rolls off Johnny and lays on his back looking up at the lights for a moment. He could swear it hasn’t been this difficult to beat this clown before…

 

“LET’S GO JOHN-NY!”

 

“LET’S GO JOHN-NY!”

 

Back to basics then. He’s beaten Johnny with a bunch of different moves in the past but the Barracuda seems to have got the measure of them, so let’s try something different. See how he likes having his neck crushed… Toxxic grabs Johnny and starts hauling Johnny up to his feet. It takes several seconds of sustained effort to get him up, but once there Toxxic grabs a double underhook headlock, only for Johnny to force his way upwards and take the Englishman off his feet before driving him backwards into the corner with the strength of desperation!

 

*BANG!*

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“It looked like Toxxic was going for the RTF II there, but Johnny Dangerous stopped him in his tracks,” Mak Francis calls. “Johnny had Toxxic scouted again… just like you predicted King,” he admits grudgingly.

 

“I wish I’d been wrong,” the Gambling Man grumbles.

 

Toxxic is bent over and gasping with the air knocked out of him; Johnny simply shoves him over to the mat, then starts to climb the turnbuckles. The crowd noise starts to rise in anticipation, but halfway to the top Johnny stops for a moment. For breath? Yes, but only for a specific purpose:

 

‘CAW-CAW!’

 

“CAW-CAW!” the crowd thunders back joyfully. Dangerous takes the extra step, reaches the top rope, then leaps into the air. There’s no fancy flips here, no spurious embellishment. Just a high leap - perhaps not as high as Wildchild, but high enough - and a descent with all his body’s weight plummeting down towards Toxxic’s prone form.

 

A prone form that brings its knees up at the last moment.

 

*CHING!*

 

Into, it must be said, a rather unfortunate area.

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“Toxxic caught Johnny, and the Barracuda is in trouble!” Mak shouts.

 

“And so might all his lady-friends be!” King chortles, “I don’t think Johnny will be in much of a mood for celebrating tonight, no matter what the outcome is!”

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

Johnny rolls away in his own private world of pain, but the Barracuda’s determination outweighs even his agony and he grabs hold of the ropes before starting to pull himself up; meanwhile Toxxic is forcing himself to his feet as well, completely clueless about exactly where his self-defence tactic caught Johnny but glad in any case; the two competitors see each other and stumble forwards, each trying to land the first blow; Johnny lashes out with a Shotei…

 

…but the debilitating pain he’s in makes the blow slower than usual and Toxxic manages to duck…

 

…then wraps his arms around Johnny’s chest and falls back!

 

*BANG!*

 

“SOLD OUT! SOLD OUT!” King roars, “THAT’S IT!”

 

Toxxic pushes Johnny over onto his back and drapes himself across the Secret Agent’s chest…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-NOJOHNNYGOTHISFOOTONTHEROPES!!!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“TOXXIC DIDN’T HOOK THE LEG!” Francis roars, “and that might have cost him the match! Toxxic answered Johnny Dangerous’s use of his tag team partner’s finishing move by bringing out Austin Sly’s Sold Out in retaliation, but Johnny was able to get his foot on the ropes!”

 

“Why now!?” howls King, “why, of all the times he forgets to hook the leg, did it have to be now!?”

 

Toxxic is pissed. And when Toxxic gets pissed, people tend to get hurt.

 

The whole throat-cutting gesture he just made doesn’t bode well either.

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

The Straight-Edge Sensation grabs Johnny and hauls the Barracuda upright, then shoves him away into the ropes. Johnny staggers and wobbles, slumping over the cables to keep his balance…

 

…and Toxxic walks up behind him, ducks down and then forces himself upright with Johnny Dangerous on his shoulders in an Electric Chair position.

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“No NO NO!” Mak yells, “not this! Damnit Toxxic, not this!”

 

Even if Toxxic had been inclined to listen to The Franchise, he can’t hear him; the straight-edger turns and walks away from the ropes, bringing Johnny Dangerous with him towards the middle of the ring. Pain is writ large on the Englishman’s face at the pressure on his ribs, but he used leg strength to get Johnny up there and he can keep him there now for the few seconds needed to reach upwards and hook his hands around Johnny’s neck in preparation for the Dangerlust…

 

…but Johnny slaps his hands away.

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

Toxxic grits his teeth and tries again, looking to hook Dangerous and bring him crashing down on his head to surely end this match, but Johnny fights him off again, then starts firing right hands down onto the straight-edger’s head!

 

“JOHN-NY!”

 

“JOHN-NY!”

 

Toxxic wobbles, his reaching hands falter and Johnny throws himself into what might be his last throw of the dice; he swings his weight forwards and to the side to send himself falling towards the mat but with one leg hooked over the back of Toxxic’s neck…

 

*BANG!*

 

…to bring the Englishman down with a Guillotine Face Driver!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

Toxxic bounces off the mat; Johnny pounces and forces his battered body to roll the Straight-Edge Sensation over into a cover, then hooks the leg and leans into the cover as Matthew Kivell drops to count…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

Johnny Dangerous walked into the match tonight as World Champion

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

He is going to walk out of this match as World Champion.

 

 

 

 

THHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE…

 

 

 

 

He has finally won a match at Genesis.

 

 

 

 

 

…NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

 

Then again…

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“WHAT!?” King and Mak roar at the same moment.

 

“THAT WAS THREE!”

 

“THAT WAS THREE!”

 

“He didn’t… Toxxic kicked! Toxxic kicked out!” Mak yells, just coming to terms with it himself. “That count was so close that Matthew Kivell’s hand actually hit the mat for the third time, but the referee has declared that Toxxic kicked out just before! This match is still going-”

 

“-and Johnny Dangerous is furious!” King cuts in as the Barracuda starts exchanging words with Matthew Kivell, “watch him hit the ref and get disqualified! He wants to keep the title at any cost!”

 

“King, I don’t think Johnny Dangerous has got the evergy to be furious,” Mak Francis replies, “and Johnny won’t be getting himself intentionally disqualified here. He wants to win this match, he wants to beat Toxxic, he wants - no, he needs to win at Genesis!”

 

Johnny gives up on arguing with Matthew Kivell, which after all is only wasting him precious time, and decides to take action. So, completely unaware of Toxxic’s previous similar gesture, Johnny makes his own throat-cutting motion…

 

…then points to the top rope.

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“King, I think Johnny’s going for the Death From Above,” Mak speculates, “the move that won him his second World Title against Ejiro Fasaki!”

 

Johnny turns and heads for the corner, then starts to climb. It’s not easy, and it’s not fast. He’s been hit in the head so many times it’s not funny, and the ring is tilting oddly. One might question if a moonsault double stomp is even feasible at this point, but Johnny Dangerous knows no other way to compete than all guns blazing. He reaches the top and balances for a second on the top rope…

 

…unfortunately that second exactly coincides with Toxxic lurching to his feet and staggering into the ropes with the intention of knocking Johnny’s footing from under him, and the Englishman succeeds. Johnny slips and lands astride the top buckle…

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

… and Toxxic starts hauling himself along the ropes towards him, using the cables to keep himself upright.

 

“JOHN-NY!”

 

“JOHN-NY!”

 

“JOHN-NY!”

 

The Phoenix crowd are chanting for their hero, but Johnny does not seem able to answer their call. The Barracuda is nearly motionless atop the turnbuckles, and Toxxic is closing in. The Englishman grabs the top rope on one side of Johnny with one hand… the other side with the other hand… and with a grimace of pain he wrenches himself to stand on the second rope behind Johnny.

 

“JOHN-NY!”

 

“JOHN-NY!”

 

“JOHN-NY!”

 

Toxxic reaches out and wraps his left arm around Johnny’s throat…

 

“JOHN-NY!”

 

…then clamps his right arm underneath Johnny’s and locks his hand onto his left wrist.

 

“JOHN-NY!”

 

For a moment Johnny Dangerous comes alive; realises he’s in peril; starts to fight.

 

“JOHN-NY!”

 

All in vain. From this position Toxxic doesn’t even really need to lift.

 

“JOHN-NY!”

 

All he has to do is kick off, fall backwards and hold onto the grip around Johnny Dangerous’s neck that brings the reigning and defending SWF World Heavyweight Champion off his seated position on the top rope and arcing backwards down towards the mat. There is an explosion of white light around University of Phoenix Stadium as the camera flashes go off again…

 

…and then Johnny Dangerous lands on the top of his skull.

 

*BAM!*

 

“RAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“SLEEPER SUPLEX FROM THE SECOND ROPE!” Mak all but screams over the din as virtually every single person in the stadium rises from their seat and starts shouting. Some are shouting in horror, some in disbelief, a fair few in anger and a couple scattered here and there in approval.

 

Toxxic gathers himself, places his hands on Johnny Dangerous and pushes. For an awful moment he thinks he can’t muster the energy to turn Johnny onto his back, that it was all in vain, but then the Barracuda starts rolling and he throws himself on top and reaches out to hook the far leg…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

All around the stadium people are shouting and gesticulating.

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

But they can do nothing to affect the outcome of this match; their opinions don’t matter.

 

 

 

 

THHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!

 

 

 

 

What Toxxic knows, and Johnny doesn’t, is that their opinions have never mattered.

 

 

 

 

*DING-DING-DING!*

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,” Funyon booms over the uproar, “the winner of the match… and NEEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW SWF WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONNNNNNN… THE ‘STRAIGHT-EDGE SENSATION’… TOXXXXXXXXXXX-IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIC!!”

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

“He did it!” King hollers in delight, jumping out of his chair as ‘The Gush’ starts to thunder out around the stadium, “Mak, he’s made history! Toxxic is the first and only five-time World Champion in SWF history! I don’t know if Landon’s going to fire me, but if there was one match and one result I’d have wanted to call on my way out, it was to see Toxxic beat Johnny Dangerous’s ass one more time!”

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

“King, you’re selling this match way, way short,” Mak Francis argues sadly, “this was always about more than just Toxxic’s chance to get another notch on his belt; this was the main event of Genesis VIII, maybe the last Genesis main event ever! This was about Johnny Dangerous bringing his World Title and defending it with every bit of breath, spirit and fire he had in his body, and he so nearly pulled it off! On another day maybe he hits the Shooting Johnny Press, or Toxxic doesn’t counter out of the MI Slam, or Toxxic doesn’t get up to cut him off for the Death From Above. The fact that one man was better than the other on this one night doesn’t take anything away from the loser, or from the effort and energy that both men put into this contest!”

 

“Ah, hell with that!” King laughs, “I’ve had my fill of being objective Francis; Toxxic won, Johnny lost, and we’ve got a World Champion we can be proud of again! Whoooooo!”

 

Toxxic takes the heavy belt handed to him by Matthew Kivell and looks at it for a second. This ten pounds of gold and its attendant leather strap has been the cause of more pain, suffering, blood loss, concussions and general misfortune than anything else in his life by some considerable measure, but there are some things that you come to accept. So he gets (slightly unsteadily) to his feet, holds the title belt in one hand and raises it over his head, trying not to wince.

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

Toxxic grins. In his own special way, it’s good to be the champ.

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

“Fans, this is ‘The Franchise’ Mak Francis and The Suicide King signing you off from another year of the SWF,” Mak says, “it’s been a hell of a ride and I’m sure hoping that we can be here for another year, and another after that and so on… but right now things just aren’t that certain. Keep in touch, watch out for news of events in your local area and keep checking www.theswf.com for all the latest information… thanks for all your support and thanks for joining us… THIS HAS BEEN GENESIS VIII!”

 

The last shot of Genesis is of Toxxic standing in the ring with the World Title, leaning on the ropes and grinning out at the roiling crowd.

 

Welcome to… well, you know the rest.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

FADE OUT

 

©2007 An Acid Rayn Production for the Smartmarks Wrestling Federation

All Rights Reserved

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
Guest
This topic is now closed to further replies.
Sign in to follow this  

×