SWF NON-DENOMINATIONAL WINTER FUNTIME EXTRAVAGANZA

[King Cucaracha 0]

JJ Johnson VS. Craig McLennan

 

“Fans, thanks for joining us here at Landon Maddix’s Non-Denominational Winter Funtime Extravaganza,” Mak Francis says, then gasps for breath.

 

“I know some people call me an egomaniac, but I never named a show after myself,” Suicide King snorts.

 

“No, just a stadium,” Francis replies. “First up we have Craig McLennan vs. JJ Johnson. Worryingly, McLennan has a better win/loss record in the past year than JJ.”

 

“Oh look, they’re both already in the ring,” King says, “that’s convenient.”

 

*DING-DING-DING!*

 

McLennan darts forwards and fires a kick into JJ Johnson’s chest! Johnson staggers backwards and McLennan grabs him then front suplexes him onto the ropes before slapping him! He then hooks JJ up for another suplex, but instead brings him vertical and then sits out, dropping JJ into the Orange Crush!

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!!!

 

*DING-DING-DING!*

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, your winner,” Funyon declares, “CRAIG McLENNAN!”

 

The fans do very little, while McLennan celebrates then goes backstage in search of his check.

 

“Losing in a squash to Craig McLennan,” Mak Francis muses, “I’d like to say I’m surprised, but I’m not.”

 

“Yeah,” King says, “just yeah.”

 

 

 

FADE OUT

[King Cucaracha 0]

Taiga Star VS. Olaf Andersen

 

Announcer - Ladies and Gentlemen, the following match is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first, accompanied to the ring by Arne Andersen, weighing in at two hundred and twenty eight pounds, hailing from Stockholm, Sweden.... Olaf Andersen!

 

*Pursuit of Vikings hits, and the crows gives a dull, but negative, reaction. Olaf makes his way to the ring, jaw-jacking with the fans along the way. Arne follows behind, stoic in his expression. Olaf enters the ring with a flip, Arne climbs over the top rope. The music dies down.*

 

Announcer - And his opponent, weighing in at *checks the card* "one hundred and none of your damn business pounds", hailing from Helltwon, Haverhill Massachusetts, the debuting Taiga Star!

 

*Be a Man hits, and the crowd gives a dull but positive reaction. She makes her way to the ring, slapping the few hands of the fans that offer them. Arne and Olaf exit the ring as Taiga rolls in under the bottom rope. She stands for a moment posing for the fans. The fans yawn. Taiga points to the armband she is wearing, then points up, mouthing the words, "This one is for you".*

 

 

Mak Francis - It says here that Taiga Star is dedicating her match tonight to a recently departed dear friend of hers, and president of a rival promotion, Pepsi Man.

 

Suicide King - Good thing he's dead then. All we need is a rival!

 

Mak Francis - You shouldn't speak ill of the dead that way!

 

Suicide King - I'll speak of dead men any way I please. What's he going to do about it?

 

 

The referee checks both competitors for international objects, then calls for the bell.

 

DING!

 

Taiga starts off offering a handshake, but Olaf laughs, garnering boos from the crowd. Collar and elbow lockup. Taiga goes to hammerlock the arm and Olaf cartwheels out of it and laughs at her. They lock up again, Taiga going for the hammerlock again, and Olaf cartwheeling out of it again.

 

 

Suicide King - It seems as if Taiga did not learn that the first time.

 

Mak Francis - Well, this is her first match here in the SWF, she may not know what to expect.

 

 

Olaf goes for a headlock, but Taiga ducks and he grabs some air.

 

 

Mak Francis - Olaf does have quite the height advantage on Taiga, by almost a foot from the looks of it, which she took advantage of there.

 

 

Olaf goes for another headlock, aiming lower this time, and gets it. Taiga flails her arm around and manages to push him off into the ropes. Olaf with the leapfrog over Taiga, Taiga with the leapfrog over Olaf on the return. Olaf with a cross body, knocking Taiga to the mat. Olaf with the quick pin.

 

ONE!

 

TW...

 

Taiga kicks out before the two.

 

 

Suicide King - I'm amazed she can jump that high!

 

 

Olaf returns to his feet and nails her with a fistdrop. Olaf with a standing moonsault. Olaf with the cover

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

...Taiga kicks out. Olaf picks her up by her hair, the referee admonishes him for this, and Olaf admonishes the ref for admonishing him. Olaf whips Taiga into the corner and follows her in with an elbow to the head. Taiga's head rolls around but she doesn't fall. Olaf with another elbow, and another, then backs up and runs in for another. Taiga doesn't fall.

 

Olaf grabs her by the arm and pulls her out of the corner. He goes like he's going to whip her across the ring, but halfway there he stops and kicks her in the head. Taiga falls on her ass in a sitting up position. Olaf with a dropkick to the back of her head. Olaf with a cover.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

...Taiga kicks out. Olaf to the top rope. Olaf with a frog splash. Taiga crumples. Olaf with a cover.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

...Taiga kicks out again.

 

 

Mak Francis - I have to give Taiga a little credit, that was a big move she just kicked out of.

 

 

Olaf appears frustrated. He turns to Arne and they exchange strategy in Swedish. While talking, Taiga comes to life, rolling over and attempting to get up. She gets to her knees when Olaf notices. He goes to kick her in the head but she ducks, grabs his leg and takes him down to the mat.

 

 

Mak Francis - That's sound strategy for Taiga, taking the legs out from under the much taller opponent.

 

Suicide King - Like there is a shorter opponent available?

 

 

Taiga pulls the leg into a version of a half Boston Crab. Olaf struggles and wiggles and flails his arms. Taiga grabs him by the opposite arm from the leg she has, pulls that arm back, effectively pulling Olaf back around in half. The ref asks if he wants to give up, he shakes his head and says no.

 

Taiga gets frustrated and lets go of the hold. She stands up and stomps Olaf in the back of the head a few times. She stands and watches Olaf get to his hands and knees before she dropkicks him in the top of the head, sending him back to the mat face first. She begins to set up for a surfboard stretch but Olaf kicks his legs and rolls out of the way. Olaf to his feet. Taiga jumps up to grab a side headlock.

 

 

Suicide King - She NEEDS to jump in order to get to his head.

 

Mak Francis - Another sound strategy for the diminutive Taiga Star.

 

Suicide King - Diminutive? I wouldn't say that. She's short, but not anywhere close to "small".

 

Mak Francis - Are you saying that Taiga Star is a big girl?

 

Suicide King - That's exactly what I'm saying.

 

 

Olaf shoves Taiga into the ropes. She bounces off, goes for the shoulder tackle, knocking him back a little but not over. Olaf backs up, bounces off the ropes and goes for a shoulder tackle of his own, but Taiga ducks out of the way. Taiga points to her head but fails to notice Olaf bouncing off the opposite ropes and coming up behind her. Olaf with a clothesline and a cover.

 

ONE!

 

TW...

 

Taiga kicks out before two. Olaf pulls her up and goes for a belly to back suplex. Taiga counters into a belly to back suplex of her own. Taiga goes for a pin.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

...Olaf kicks out. Taiga waits for him to get up then attempts to clothesline him, but he grabs her arm and pulls her to the mat with an armbar. Olaf pulls back hard on her shoulder and punches it a few times with his free hand. Taiga grits her teeth through the pain. Olaf goes for a Crossface but has a hard time locking it in. Taiga struggles to the ropes and the ref demands a break.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

FOUR!

 

Olaf releases on five. Taiga rolls to the floor for a breather. When she stands up, Olaf springs off the top rope and jumps onto Taiga with a spinning flipping turning reverse splash bomb! This gets a nice pop from the crowd. The ref sees both competitors down and begins the ten count.

 

ONE!

 

No one moves.

 

TWO!

 

Arne comes around the ring to check on Olaf.

 

THREE!

 

Arne picks up his brother and rolls him into the ring.

 

FOUR!

 

Taiga begins to stir.

 

FIVE!

 

While the ref is counting, Olaf and Arne seem to be conferring between themselves.

 

SIX!

 

Arne is seen passing off a foreign object to Olaf.

 

 

Mak Francis - It's that damn lead pipe!

 

 

SEVEN!

 

Taiga bets back to her feet and rolls back into the ring. The ref prevents Olaf from attacking her until she gets to her feet. Olaf hides the lead pipe behind his back. Arne jumps up on the apron to distract the ref. Olaf takes the opportunity to go hit Taiga in the head with the pipe, but Taiga kicks him in the gut before it makes contact. Olaf drops the pipe and folds in half. Taiga with a shoulder tackle, sending him into the corner. Taiga with a stiff left handed chop WOOOOOO! And another WOOOOOO! Another, this time with the right WOOOOOOO!

 

Taiga whips him across the ring. Olaf reverses, sending Taiga into the corner. He goes for a big boot but Taiga ducks and he gets his foot hung up over the top turnbuckle. Taiga kicks him in the inner thigh. Olaf hobbles around clutching his groin. The referee asks if there was a low blow and Taiga insists that it was just the thigh. Arne hops up on the apron again to argue with the ref. Olaf rolls Taiga up in a schoolboy and it takes a few seconds for the ref to notice because of the distraction. The ref goes for the count

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

...Taiga kicks out.

 

 

Mak Francis - It seemed that Arne's distraction there was detrimental to Olaf winning the match.

 

Suicide King - You think?

 

 

They get to their feet at the same time and Taiga dropkicks Olaf in the knee. He goes down and Taiga drop kicks him in the *other* knee. He falls on his face. Taiga sets him up for the surfboard stretch again, getting the legs locked in place, and punching him in the back of the head. He goes to cover up and Taiga grabs his arms and pulls back. She locks her fingers under his chin and pulls back hard.

 

 

Mak Francis - Human spines aren't meant to bend that far!

 

 

The ref asks if Olaf wants to give it up and he refuses. Taiga cranks back and Olaf gives out a strangled, choked-out scream. Taiga grits her teeth and tells him to give up. Olaf wiggles and squirms trying to get out of the hold but it is no use as Taiga has it conched in tight. The ref asks Olaf again if he wants to give it up and he says no. Taiga lets go with one hand to chop Olaf in the chest a few times, then cranks back on the hold again with both hands. Olaf looks like he's about to tap out when Arne enters the ring and breaks the submission by kicking Taiga in the back.

 

 

Mak Francis - Now, that's just dirty!

 

Suicide King - I wouldn't say that, it's effective teamwork.

 

Mak Francis - But this is not a tag team match.

 

Suicide King - Exactly, power in numbers!

 

 

The referee gets furious at Arn and demands that he leave the ring area and go to the back. Arne refuses and stomps his feet like he's having a temper tantrum. The ref calls for backup and three security men come down to escort Arne to the back.

 

While this is all going on, Olaf tries to hit Taiga with the lead pipe again. Again, Taiga ducks, and she goes for a drop toe hold. Olaf lands on his face and drops the pipe. Taiga picks the pipe up and whacks Olaf over the head with it, knocking him out. The she tosses the pipe out of the ring before the referee turns around.

 

Taiga drags Olaf over to the corner and stomps him a few more times for good measure. Then she climbs up to the top turnbuckle and goes for the DOUBLE STOMP!! Then she goes for the cover, hooking both legs.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

*DING!*

 

Ladies and gentlemen, your winner of the match, Taiga Star!

 

*Be a Man reprises.*

 

*The crowd actually cheers a bit as the referee holds up her arm.*

 

*Taiga bows to the crowd, then goes over to Olaf's lifeless body still layed out on the mat. She picks up his hand and shakes it with an air of sarcasm. She lets go and his arm drops bonelessly to his side. Taiga rolls out of the ring and makes her way to the back.*

 

*The ref helps Olaf up and assists him to the back.*

[King Cucaracha 0]

Christian Blackwell VS. "The Paladin" Chance Silver

 

 

“Welcome back to our non-denominational winter fun time extraordinary fabulous extravaganza!”

 

The camera pans throughout the appropriately named US Cellular Center, capturing the thousands of rabid, and more importantly, loyal SWF fans as they wait eagerly for the next match.

 

“So, they couldn’t think of anymore puns.” King shakes his head in disapproval. “No wonder this company is going down the sink hole, puns are our bread and butter.”

 

“Well, can YOU think of any?”

 

“… There’s no time for silly puns right now Mak, we have a match to get to!”

 

“Yeah, I didn’t think so,” replies Mak smugly. “Indeed you’re right though King, as right now we have a great-“

 

“Hah!”

 

“-competitive”

 

“HAH!”

 

“-exciting”

 

King bursts our laughing.

 

“-match to get to right now. Ok, just stop that, remember what I told you.”

 

“All right fine… agreed my commentary cohort; this next match promises to be an instant classic, and I promise at least one MILLION people will watch it on YouTube!”

 

“See, was that so hard?”

 

“I feel dirtier than usual.”

 

“Anyway,” Mak continues, trying to set the ship right, “this match might surprise you King. Chance Silver hasn’t been on PPV for some time, and will want to impress against the Big Australian who came up short against Wildchild at Ashes to Ashes, Christian Blackwell.”

 

“I have a feeling Chance Silver hasn’t impressed anyone his entire life.”

 

“Me too King, but his fortunes may change tonight. And, why, there he is in the ring right now!”

 

Indeed, Chance Silver waits patiently in the centre of the ring, and has for a few minutes now to no fanfare whatsoever.

 

“He doesn’t even get an entrance anymore, and that was the best thing about him!” King says, trying to hold back laughter. “But, at least we have some more competition on Pay Per View, and that’s what’s important.”

 

“True King. After Ashes to Ashes, Christian Blackwell demanded a match, but everyone else was either in a match already or flat out refused, knowing the Australian would be looking to let off some steam after coming so close to defeating Wildchild!”

 

“Which is no mean feat, let me tell you,” King replies, putting on his game face. “You just know if Christian can tap into that dormant aggression that the Blackwell’s are known for, he will be a force for years to come.”

 

“There’s also dormant psychotic behavior in the Blackwell family, lets just hope he doesn’t tap into that.”

 

“Don’t talk about his sister like that.”

 

Suddenly, the lights in the arena dim, as strobe lights flare in time with keyboard strikes from the P.A, followed by a blinding flash as the drums and guitar kick up in thunderous fashion! The lights return to normal as the song continues and images of Christian slamming some hapless fool appear on the Smarktron in time with the beats in the song.

 

“Ladies and Gentleman,” Funyon booms as always, “the following match is scheduled for one fall. In the ring, weighing in at-“

 

… But Funyon is suddenly cut, and the fans are taken completely by surprise as, from behind the curtain, Christian Blackwell appears, charging down to the ring!

 

“You know what,” King says, watching Christian, nostrils flaring and mucles rippling through his monitor,” I think Chance is in with a chance tonight. I really think it’s his time to shine!”

 

“You’re just a mean guy, you know that?”

 

Funyon quickly escapes the ring as Blackwell slides in, jumping to his feet in a flash! Silver, sensing an opportunity, and feeling confident, stomps forward and throws a right hand in fearless fashion!

 

“… But, you may be right! Silver aims a punch right for Blackwell’s head!”

 

… But Christian brushes his arm aside and knees him in the kidney. Twice.

 

“… That… look liked it hurt.”

 

“Just internal bleeding, nothin’ be can’t handle.”

 

Blackwell grabs Silver by the head and throws him into the corner. Not letting up for a second, Christian lowers his head and charges, spearing Chance in the midsection over and over until Kivell has to pull him away. Christian looks behinds him at Kivell and sneers, causing Matt to back away, weakly giving Blackwell a warning. Silver coughs and splutters, doubled over in extreme pain, but Blackwell just grabs him around the neck and yanks him out of the corner. The fans don’t know how to react as Blackwell grabs Silver’s right arm, swings his leg forward and kicks Silver in the stomach, before swinging it back into the air behind him, falling forward at the same time…

 

WHHAAAMMMM!

 

“CRUEL FATE!” Mak screams as Silver hits the mat with a tremendous thud, almost lifeless. Kivell slides over, ready for the pin, but Blackwell stands back up and shakes his head, pulling the limp Paladin to his feet and hoisting him onto his shoulders.

 

“Just watch, he’ll reverse this and then it’ll REALLY be on.”

 

Blackwell grabs Chance’s arm again and pulls it across his throat, before throwing him off his shoulders, spiking him on his head as he sits out, nailing the Cut-Throat Psycho Driver!

 

“Sleep on It, just for good measure! This was an absolute mugging King, just plain scary.”

 

“What are you talking about? It ain’t over till the fat lady sings and Chance will surely, SURELY kick out of this.”

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THREE!

 

“I tried Mak, I really tried.”

 

“I know you did King.”

 

Blackwell lets go of Silver’s leg and plants his hand into his chest to support himself as he climbs to his feet. Kivell doesn’t even bother raising Christian’s hand as the Australian leaves the ring immediately, storming up the ramp as a few fans cheer, but for the most part, the fans don’t react much at all.

 

“Well,” Mak says, watching as a few ringside attendants scrape the Paladin’s carcass off the mat, “that was… impressive. Christian has shown some unusual, tremendous aggression since returning, only made worse by his loss at Ashes to Ashes. He means business now King and everyone should be on notice.”

 

“Someone has lit a fire under Christian Blackwell Mak, I don’t know who, but they’ve done their job, because he’s not playing nice anymore. Shame, really, because he looks like a big teddy bear.”

 

“I had a nightmare about a Teddy Bear like this, true story.”

 

Blackwell disappears behind the curtain, leaving the fans to wonder what exactly they just saw.

 

Chance Silver is currently in a critical condition at Cedar Rapids General.

[King Cucaracha 0]

Dance Dance Dragon VS. The Fabulous Jakey

 

 

Fast techno-themed music plays, with red and pink lights decorating the arena. The curtains part and out swaggers The Fabulous Jakey, showing off the lime green trenchcoat over his ring gear with a cheesy grin. Slowly he then walks down the ramp, in his head towering over the fans despite being out-weighed and out-heighted (!?) by many of them.

 

"The following contest is scheduled for one fall, to be contested under Cruiserweight Rules! A strict twenty count will be observed at ringside and the throwing of an opponent over the top rope will result in an automatic disqualification. Introducing first, now residing in New York City... he weighs in at one hundred and sixty pounds. Representing REVOLUTION ZERO... the former two-time SWF Cruiserweight Champion... THE FABULOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUSSSSSSS... JJJJJJJJAAAAAAAAAAAAAKKEEEEEEEEYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!"

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

 

Jakey walks up the steps and enters the ring through the ropes, then stands in the center and undoes his trenchcoat. Jakey then flings the coat over his shoulder before parking it safely in the corner, then stands in the center of the ring and raises both arms.

 

"You know, I don't know if it was intentional or not but that green trenchcoat at this time of the year, not the best choice for a guy like Jakey."

 

"You make one single elf joke and I swear..."

 

"I'm not saying a word."

 

 

A DDR stage hollogram shines down in front of the entrance way and for a while it's quiet. The intro to "Hung Up" by Madonna plays as The Dance Dance Dragon calmly walks out. When the song picks up pace, multi-coloured strobes go freakoutapalooza through the rest of the arena and 'Triple D' starts to bust a freakin' move, people! Oh and a bunch of scantily clad dancers run out and dance to the sides of him, of course.

 

"And his opponent! From Heaven's Dancefloor... he weighs two hundred, eleven pounds... this is THE DANCE! DANCE! DDRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR - AAAAAAAAAGGOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONN!!!"

 

"YYYEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

"Well, this is the Non-Denominational Winter Funtime Extravaganza and this should certainly be fun. Two of our more interesting characters going one on one."

 

Dragon dances his way on down the aisle, saying goodbye to his dancers as he enters the ring.

 

"Both of these men will be keenly watching the main-event tonight, I'm sure." notes Mak. "Dragon pushed the current Champion Wildchild to a time-limit draw back at Class Is In Session and Jakey is of course a former Cruiserweight Champion."

 

"Two-time."

 

"Yes, thank you King. Compared to Dragon, he certainly brings an elf of experience to this match."

 

"*grumbles*"

 

 

*DINGDINGDING!*

 

Jakey smirks a little now the festivities have died down. Coming out of his corner he looks Triple D up and down and just shakes his head, mouthing the words "you look ridiculous" to him without a hint of irony. Dragon is eager to cut the talking and get to action (since, you know, he doesn't actually talk) and shuffles towards Jakey for a lock-up. The Fabulous One quickly backpedals though, ducking his head through the ropes and calling for more time.

 

"JA - KEY SUCKS!"

"JA - KEY SUCKS!"

"JA - KEY SUCKS!"

"JA - KEY SUCKS!"

 

With the crowd on his back, Jakey shuts his hands over his ears to block them out. When that doesn't work, he finally gets down to business and back into the ring. Dragon meets him and the two unique stars lock-up, centre of the ring.

 

"Like two great behemoths they come together!" scoffs King.

 

The two cruiserweights jockey a little, trying to get the upperhand. Jakey looks to have that upperhand once he grabs hold of the tassels on the back of the mask. However, referee Sexton Hardcastle spots it and as soon as Jakey breaks, Dragon heaves forward and sends Jakey tumbling across the ring with a hard shove! Jakey rolls through to a knee and looks shocked, complaining of a hair-pull to disguise his out-powering.

 

"Wow, just like Hogan and Warrior... except, not."

 

"Who are Hogan and Warrior?"

 

"Oh, sorry, wrong universe."

 

Climbing back up, Jakey marches over to Dragon and still maintains there was a hairpull as he SHOVES The Masked Dance Assassin in the chest! Dragon... is wearing a mask, so his facial expression doesn't change, but I'm sure underneath it he's PISSED~ and he shoves Jakey right back, hard enough for the 160 pounder to take another spill! Ending up in the corner Jakey calls referee Hardcastle over to complain about another hairpull. And when Hardcastle tells him there clearly wasn't one, he changes tact and complains of a pull of the tights. Unfortunately for Jakey, he's so busy complaining that he doesn't notice DDD marching over to him and trapping him in the corner...

 

 

*SLAP!*

 

"WHOOOOOOOO!"

 

...chop. And a right hand.

 

*SLAP!*

 

"WHOOOOOOOO!"

 

...chop. Right hand.

 

*SLAP!*

 

"WHOOOOOOOO!"

 

Chop, Right hand.

 

"With the SWF Christmas Party yet to happen, The Fabulous Jakey having to settle instead for a Violence Party tonight in Cedar Rapids! And I'm sure it'll result in only marginally less vomiting!"

 

"Speak for yourself." smiles King.

 

Staggering out of the corner, Jakey manages to shrug off Dragon and make a quick run into the ropes. Off the ropes he comes, lunging at Dragon with a crossbody block... CAUGHT! Dragon swats the smallest man in the SWF down with a front slam, then leaps onto him with a back senton, crushing poor Jakey. Hook of the leg...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

No.

 

Rolling away, Jakey looks for a reprieve by making it to the corner.

 

"So far, nothing going right for the former Cruiserweight Champion." Mak critiques.

 

"Don't worry about Jakey, Mak." replies King flippantly. "He's been nurtured by the best, by the Champ, by Toxxic. There's plenty of tricks up that sleeve left yet."

 

As Jakey again complains to the ref, Dragon doesn't want to lose his momentum and moves right in again in the corner. Jakey tries to beg off but Dragon doesn't buy into that... walking himself right into a quick thumb to the eyes.

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOO..."

 

"Did Toxxic teach him that?"

 

Apparantly not, since it doesn't work at all. Dragon gets jabbed in the eye portal on his mask which of course doesn't affect him at all. By the time Jakey realises this he's already got a smug grin on his face, a smug grin which disappears when he figures out his quick get-out didn't work. Jakey quickly goes back to begging off, as Dragon performs an absolutely unneccessary pirohuette... and goes to the eyes on Jakey!

 

"YYYEEEEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!"

 

"And they cheer?" King despairs. "I knew I was before my time."

 

"I think Jakey maybe another in the long line of people, not quite sure what to make of Dance Dance Dragon in the SWF! And as we know, he's yet to be beaten here, no small co-incidence if you ask me."

 

Irish whip sends Jakey corner to corner, hitting the turnbuckles hard and bouncing back out into a hiptoss. Jakey lands on his tailbone hard and rolls from the ring. Right behind him is Dragon as he follows over to the ropes, grabbing the top rope and preparing to launch himself onto The Fabulous One. Up and over the top goes Dragon... and, Jakey moves, forcing Triple D to bail out in mid-air and land on the apron instead. Jakey stops at the end of the ring and points to his head to show everyone how smart he is, to which everybody responds by pointing behind him to where Dragon is waiting. Running down the apron, he soars towards Jakey...

 

 

 

 

 

 

...AND GETS CUT OFF IN MID-AIR WITH A DROPKICK!!

 

"OOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

"There we go Jakey!" enthuses King. "Great awareness, great agility, great timing. That's what Jakey brings to the table."

 

"He's certainly learnt to be opportunistic and that was an opportunist counter right there."

 

Having hit the floor with a splat, Dragon rolls around holding the back of his head. Jakey is back up meanwhile, preening and telling the world "I told you so". Referee Hardcastle has begun his count and Jakey sees it, walking over and slowly pulling Dragon off the arena floor by the mask.

 

"And now, Jakey has control, Dragon must be dazed..."

 

 

 

*CLUNK!*

 

"...and even MORE so now, as The Fabulous Jakey sends him HARD into the ringpost!"

 

Dragon hits the post shoulder on but seems to take a shot to the side of the head as well, going down in a heap. Rolling back inside, Jakey is clearly pleased with himself and raises his arms in a very premature sign of victory.

 

"If Jakey's hoping for a countout, he might be out of luck." Mak points out. "Remember, Cruiserweight Rules mean a twenty count on the floor and time for Dragon to recover."

 

"I hope the suspension on those wheels of yours is okay, what with all these conclusions you're jumping to! Who says Jakey wants to win by countout?"

 

"He's in the ring, Dragon's not. Seems that way to me."

 

"He's enjoying a little of the spotlight, that's all! When you're as Fabulous as he is, you can do that."

 

With Hardcastle up to only "6", Jakey watches on as Dragon starts to stir on the outside. And he too realises giving Dragon a count of twelve to recover isn't in his best interests. Jakey rolls out of the ring and grabs Dragon again, heaving him back into the ring and following in afterwards. The Masked Dance Assassin crawls away slowly but Jakey is right on his tail, kicking him in the back of the head. And again. Mocking Dragon, Jakey then busts a few moves before landing a third shot with the flat of the foot.

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

 

Peeling Dragon off the canvas, Jakey delivers a right hand to the top of the mask. Dragon responds to that with a quick elbow to the gut, so Jakey quickly bundles him back down onto his front, pinning Dragon down and dropping a knee to the back of the neck! No movement from Triple D after that, so Jakey chances a cover...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

No.

 

Another hard stomp to the head is Dragon's reward for kicking out. Sitting his masked opponent up, Jakey then drives BOTH feet into the head, with a dropkick from the blind-side!

 

"There's where that lack of periphiral vision of masked wrestlers haunts them. No way for Dragon to see that coming and brace himself."

 

Dragon again goes back to holding the back of his head which Jakey is quick to zero in on. This time not with another kick, but with a submission, stepping over on the right leg and locking his hands under the chinstrap on the mask with an STF!

 

"Not your typical 160 pounder type move."

 

"Jakey's not your typical person." counters King.

 

"Well, that's true. Looking to work on the neck with this hold although Dragon is already moving towards the ropes, Jakey'll have trouble holding him down."

 

Sure enough, Jakey does, as Dragon starts clawing away towards the ropes. Realising he doesn't have a lot of leverage, Jakey temporarily lets go of the chinlock... and instead pulls back on the tassels on Dragon's mask, wrenching his head back!

 

"ONE!"

"TWO!"

"THREE!"

"FO..."

 

Legal break by Jakey and right back to the facelock.

 

"Jakey using the mask to his advantage again there, illegally I might add."

 

"Hey, if you're stupid enough to wear tassels to the ring, you get what's coming to you." sneers King.

 

Jakey again finds himself struggling to keep DDD at bay though with the STF and as he starts to get pulled towards an escape, he resorts to the tassels for a second time!

 

"ONE!"

"TWO!"

"THREE!"

 

Another clean break by Jakey , back to the facelock again...

 

 

 

...but Dragon makes a sudden lunge and grabs the bottom strand anyway, forcing Jakey to break the hold.

 

"DRA - GON!"

"DRA - GON!"

"DRA - GON!"

"DRA - GON!"

 

Jakey clambers back up and stomps the arm off of the ropes before pulling Dragon up, draping him over the top rope. A humiliating slap across the back of the head follows, before Jakey shoots off the ropes on the opposite side and drills a knee into the exposed back of The Benami Bruiser! Dragon collapses back, into a pin by Jakey...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

Kickout!

 

By the mask Dragon is brought back up again and sent off the ropes by Jakey. As he shoots back Dragon is caught in the midsection with a right hand, doubling him over as The Fabulous One comes in with a Million $ Kneelift. That snaps Dragon's head upwards and leaves him unsteady on his feet as Jakey hits the ropes once more, wiping Dragon out with a lunging clothesline, straight into a hook of the leg and a cover...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kickout!

 

"As Wildchild found out at Class Is In Session, there's a tough competitor under the mask and the tassels and all the dancing. He won't go down easily."

 

Again the use of the mask earns Jakey a warning from Hardcastle, but since it's not the sort of thing you'll get DQed for, Jakey happily ignores him. Another irish whip sends Dragon into the turnbuckles. Jakey follows in afterwards looking for a clothesline... and EATS BOOT!

 

"Yeah but Jakey's tough too! Look, still on his feet!"

 

"Impressive." Mak says sarcastically.

 

"Hey, it's more than you can say buddy!"

 

Jakey's head gets snapped back, but he cranks it back into place, focusing again on Dragon ready for another charge. However, Dragon comes out of the corner to meet him and gets the first shot in, clocking Jakey across the forehead with a Running Palm Strike!!

 

"YYYEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!"

 

"Down goes Jakey this time though!"

 

The Dance Dance Dragon is starting to feel it, as evident by the 'running man' he starts to pull off in mid-ring. Pulling himself back up, Jakey shakes out the cobwebs and almost falls back down as he sees a masked man in an all over bodysuit and Dragon mask doing a dance move that hasn't been popular since the 80s, naturally assuming he must be concussed. Once he realises he's not imagining all this though he comes to his senses and charges in. Dragon cuts off the double-sledge with a boot to the gut however, turning back to back and setting up for the NEWBIE KILLER...

 

 

 

 

 

 

...BUT JAKEY ESCAPES! Floating over the back, Jakey pulls off a quick spin and pulls down Dragon with a Backslide...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NO!!

 

First up, Dragon measures Jakey on the way up... and just NAILS him with a Lariat!

 

"Wow!"

 

"Not quite worthy of an OOOO~! at the end, but not bad."

 

Cover by Dragon...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NO!! Jakey rolls his shoulder out at two.

 

Dragon backs away into a corner and cuts a thumb across the throat, the universal signal that it's ovah~! He then heads up top, perhaps underestimating Jakey's determination and getting caught up top as the former Cruiserweight Champion scrambles to his feet. A quick gut shot stuns Dragon, allowing Jakey to reach up and pull Dragon from the top with a slam/throw by the mask!

 

"Great resiliance by Jakey!" crows King. "If only all attempts at flips ended like that."

 

Waiting on Dragon, Jakey pushes up on the top rope and hooks his legs around the back of Triple D's head, before pushing off with a Victory Ro...

 

 

 

 

...NO! Dragon sits into it, stacking Jakey...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NO!!

 

"Oh, Jakey just barely got out of that predicament!"

 

First up, Dragon sets Jakey up for the Dance Dance DDT... but gets a knee to the kidneys, before being shoved forward and chest first into the turnbuckles in front of him. There he stays as Jakey breathes a sigh of relief and charges. Dragon quickly steps back and connects on an elbow however, dazing Jakey. Scaling the turnbuckles, Dragon reaches the top and somersaults back with a Moonsault Press, under which the helpless Fabulous Jakey crumbles!!

 

"That's what beat IL!"

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NO, TWO COUNT!!

 

"But it's not what beats Jakey!" Mak confirms. "You have to give Jakey credit for kicking out after that, 160 pounds getti..."

 

"Oh would you stop about the weight thing already! It's not that that's important, it's his determination, his will to win, his vast collection of garish clothing! That's what makes Jakey the man he is! Fabulous!"

 

 

*SLAP!*

 

"WHOOOOOOOO!"

 

Upon reaching his feet, Jakey takes another chop to the chest.

 

 

*SLAP!*

 

"WHOOOOOOOO!"

 

And another.

 

 

*SLAP!*

 

"WHOOOOOOOO!"

 

And a third, backing him up in the corner. Dragon works the body with a few kicks just for good measure, landing an elbow in there too, all these strikes leaving Jakey relying on the turnbuckle pads to hold him up. He also relies on the referee giving up on his five count and stepping between the two men in order to get Dragon to break. Dragon gives in to the referee and waves Jakey out of the corner. Rather than walk out as told he sorta staggers out, as told, taking another boot to the gut and going up again for the Newbie Killer...

 

 

 

...NO. Jakey drops down before Dragon can turn him and GOES LOW with an uppercut!

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

 

*DINGDINGDING!*

 

"Ugh." groans Mak. "Referee left with no choice but to call for the bell!"

 

 

"Ladies and gentlemen, via disqualification your winner... THE DANCE DANCE DRRRAAAAAGGOOOOONN!!"

 

A small cheer goes up amongst the boos for the decision, for the fact that Dragon at least won the match. Most of the crowd direct their anger at Jakey instead though as he rolls out of the ring and swats his hands nonchalantly back at the referee.

 

"So much for Jakey's 'will to win' that you were describing earlier, King. Jakey just got himself disqualified and he doesn't seem all that disappointed about it either."

 

"Well okay, he lost the match, but I'd say that was a moral victory..."

 

"In who's world is that a MORAL victory!?"

 

"He wasn't pinned, he didn't quit. And in the end, he's walking away under his own power. Let's see Dragon do that within the next five minutes, shall we?"

 

Jakey, with his jacket in hand, turns and raises his arms definately at the top of the stage. Nursing his little disco-balls, Dragon looks up at Jakey from the ring, shrugging away the offer of help from Sexton Hardcastle as we FADE OUT.

[King Cucaracha 0]

The cameras pan back to the ring in the US Cellular Center. The set of the House of Marvelous has been set up in the ring, and the Notorious BIG's "I Love the Dough" rumbles through the arena. Sir Marvelous strolls leisurely down to the ring, his overshadow Bruner looming as usual. The crowd is not impressed.

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

 

"Well, it looks like the the crowd here in Cedar Rapids doesn't have a very high opinion of our erstwhile segment host," Mak Francis smirks.

 

"Well, you can't expect taste or distinction out of anyone from Iowa, Francis," the Suicide King retorts.

 

Sir Marvelous steps up onto the ring apron, and waits for Bruner to hold the ropes apart for him enter. Marvelous steps through the arch and picks up the microphone from its stand.

 

"Ladies and Gentlemen," he drawls. "Welcome to the House of Marvelous!"

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

 

"Yes, I understand you are overwhelmed...and you have good reason! Tonight, we are honored to once again invite to the House of Marvelous a man who has made a tremendous impact on the SWF these last few months...you all know him as the SWF New Blood Champion, and he is here tonight to talk about the special stipulation attached to the New Blood Championship. Please welcome the Mad Scientist of the Mat...MICHAEL ALEXANDER!"

 

“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.

 

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. He springs up onto the apron, taking the SWF New Blood Title belt off his waist and holding it up over his head.

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

 

The Mad Scientist smirks at the crowd, shrugs, and steps through the ropes. He nods to Bruner as he walks through the arch, stopping to shake hands with Sir Marvelous. Alexander then takes up the guest microphone offered to him by the host and sits down on the couch. Marvelous takes a seat himself.

 

"Welcome back, Michael," Marvelous says. "You have certainly achieved a lot in your first few months. And now, it appears you are poised to make an even greater impact."

 

"First, let me say what an honor it is to return here to the House of Marvelous," Michael replies. "The last time I was here, I promised you many things."

 

"Indeed," Marvelous nods dutifully. "And you have achieved the first one - you are the New Blood Champion."

 

"Yes," Michael agrees. "My victory was postponed by some ridiculous stipulations, but I have fulfilled my first promise. And since then, I have successfully defended that title three times, against a former cruiserweight champion and two other rookies."

 

"And this, I believe, has brought into play a major premise related to your title," Marvelous prods gently.

 

"Yes, it did. After three successful title defenses of the New Blood Championship, the champion may choose to challenge any other champion in the SWF. And you, and everyone else, wants to know what championship I will lay claim to next?" Michael asks.

 

Sir Marvelous nods and melodramatically sweeps his arm at the crowd. "We all await your announcement, my friend."

 

"Well, let us look at my options...I could challenge for the Cruiserweight Championship. But why? Hasn't that been used for a salsa tray at some point? I have to say, that would be a bit anticlimactic, wouldn't it?"

 

Sir Marvelous nods vigorously. "Certainly, that would be out of the question."

 

"Agreed. Then there are the Tag Team Titles. Worthy prizes, I must say. But should I share the glory with another, no matter how worthy a partner I may have?"

 

"It would seem that you have another path in mind," Sir Marvelous says demurely.

 

"Oh, I do. Why should I waste any further time? There is only one prize that I covet above all others...the SWF World Heavyweight Championship."

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

 

Marvelous gasps in mock surprise, then smiles. "I must admit that I expected as much."

 

"Of course, Sir, because you are eminently perceptive. When I met with you before, I told you that I would ascend to the pinnacle of the SWF upon the broken bodies of my opponents. I have defeated a former world heavyweight champion, a former Hardcore champion, and a former cruiserweight champion. I have broken all opposition in the New Blood division itself. Now the time has come...MY time has come. With the SWF's first show of the new year, I shall attain the goal I set for myself when I first came to the SWF."

 

"You should not discount the current champion, Michael," Sir Marvelous warns. "Toxxic has defeated you before, I believe."

 

"You are right in that he was technically victorious," Michael admits grudgingly. "But I think a more apt description would be that he ESCAPED me, more than defeated me. You watched the match, and you all saw that match for what it was - an escape. Toxxic, you know it too. You didn't beat me...you escaped me. But that won't happen at Clusterfuck. Lightning, my British friend, will not strike twice." Michael Alexander turns to the camera, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "The gauntlet is cast down, Toxxic. Now, I want you to go home after your tag team match tonight. Enjoy your holiday festivities. Visit with your family and friends. Open your presents and relish your triumphs over the past year. And get used to the idea that at Clusterfuck, you will be outwitted, outwrestled, and quite simply outclassed by The Most Scientifically Scintillating Superstar Ever to Enter the Squared Circle. Merry Christmas, Toxxic. And a Happy New Year to me."

 

"I can't say that comes as a surprise, King," Mak observes.

 

"Well, it shouldn't, Francis. It's what he said he would do when he first came to the SWF."

 

"It may be that Mr. Alexander is discounting Toxxic a bit too quickly."

 

"Toxxic is good, Francis. Damn good. Incredibly damn good. But Alexander is on a roll. He's young, he's hungry, he's got momentum...and he's also incredibly damn good."

 

"But Toxxic has got one up on Alexander, King."

 

"Then I'd say Alexander's got a lot to prove, then," King says. "And Toxxic's got a lot to lose. Two desparate men and one title. I really can't wait for Clusterfuck..."

 

Michael Alexander tosses the microphone to Marvelous as he steps back through the arch, nodding to Bruner as he springs onto the apron. Michael Alexander holds the SWF New Blood title belt over his head, pointing to it triumphantly. The Evil Genius hops down to the floor and begins to walk to the back. Upon reaching the stage, he turns back to the crowd, tosses the belt over his shoulder, and laughs as we...

 

 

FADE OUT.

[King Cucaracha 0]

MANSON VS. Johnny Dangerous

 

 

We return to the packed US Cellular Center in Iowa, where the house lights drop, and after a brief pause, a low, guttural growl kicks 'Scientific Remote Viewing' by Cephalic Carnage into gear, as the crowd rises to their feet.

 

"We're here at Landon Maddix's Non-Denominational Winter Funtime Extravaganza, where up next, comes this man… Manson!"

 

As strobes pulse, spotlights roam the arena, while smoke pours out over the stage, and the curtain soon parts. Out comes Manson amidst the chaos, raising his clenched fists high above his head at the top of the ramp, as the jeering fans herald his arrival.

 

"Ladies and Gentlemen," booms Funyon, "the following is a one-on-one bout, scheduled for one fall! First, making his way down to the ring, hailing from Denver, Colorado, and weighing in at two hundred and twenty-nine pounds… MMMAAAANNNNSOOONNNN!"

 

He rolls in under the bottom rope on his approach, standing and thrusting his arms out to the side in a crucifix, then after a moment, raising an arm above his head and throwing out the horns while backing into his corner, to more heat from the crowd. He flings his jacket over the post and then leans back against the turnbuckle, waiting for the match to begin, as Matthew Kivell confers with him.

 

"Since his return to the SWF he's been on a roll, Mak, first disposing of one half of the SWF World Tag Team Champions, Austin Sly. Then at Ashes to Ashes he took care of Christian Fury, both in no-rules hardcore matches."

 

"He could be restricted tonight, however, because he'll be facing off against a multi-time World Heavyweight Champion in Johnny Dangerous! And if that wasn't enough pressure, it's in a match with rules and boundaries, within the confines of the ring," says Mak, as 'Mission Impossible' by the James Taylor quartet starts up.

 

"If Johnny Dangerous underestimates Manson as a wrestler as much as you are here, he's in for a massive upset. You act as if he's never had success working within the rules"

 

"Since he undertook this Messiah thing, he's also been liable to letting the stresses of the SWF and not being able to cut loose get to him, especially against such stiff competition like Johnny Dangerous."

 

"You don't see the transformation since he came back? He's turned his aggression and temper to his distinct advantage, he certainly doesn't get as out of control as before, at least."

 

Meanwhile, across the SmarkTron the trademark fuse burns away, then as an explosion of pyro bursts forth from the stage, up comes clips of Johnny in action.

 

"And his opponent, hailing from Las Vegas, Nevada, and weighing in at two hundred and twenty-five pounds… JOHNNY DAAAAAAANNNNNNNNGEROUS!"

 

As Johnny heads down the ramp, he slaps hands with numerous fans lining the barricades and travels up the steps, into the ring. Opposite of Manson, he ascends the turnbuckle, raising his arms, as the crowd cheers. He steps down and upon locking eyes with the Raging Bull across the ring, removes his sunglasses and hands them off to Kivell, who escorts them safely out of the ring.

 

"We're only two matches in, you know, and only with more time can we tell. I don't believe he will last without reverting, especially as he continues to run up against high caliber competition like Johnny."

 

"I have an idea, let's run through Johnny's track record, Mak."

 

"Okay."

 

"As you say, he's high caliber, sure, and a former World Champion. Since Genesis, Johnny lost the World Heavyweight Championship to Toxxic, however, he also tapped to Austin Sly in a match for the Tag Championship, tapped to Tom Flesher for the right to face Toxxic at Ashes to Ashes, and then didn't even have a match! If Manson defeats him here, which he has a great chance of doing, considering, that's only continuing a long downhill slide which now gives Manson a strong advantage."

 

"That's the most analysis I've heard from you in ages."

 

*DING DING!*

 

As the bell sounds, each emerges from their corners, as Kivell clears out of the way. Both unsure of how to approach, they come together in a lock-up. Out of a brief stalemate, Manson knees Dangerous in the gut, then breaks the hold, following up with a right hand. He continues to push with repeated fists, driving Dangerous back into the corner, where he wails on the Barracuda further. Eventually Manson switches to a choke with his hands wrapped around the throat of Dangerous, forcing Kivell to step in between, but as he tries to push Manson away, he jabs Johnny with a headbutt between the eyes!

 

"He's again off to a fast start, King, surely one of the reasons for his success since returning."

 

"You got that right, he's been starting fast and hasn't let up once. However, I don't know what Kivell is thinking, he didn't even give a five count!"

 

"When one guy is getting choked, you need to get the other one off immediately. Though Kivell didn't see the dirty headbutt at all!"

 

Dangerous falls to the mat, immediately attempting to regain himself, as Manson pushes Kivell aside and heads after him. He bends over, reaching for Dangerous, but Johnny unleashes a right ot the gut. He dazes Manson momentarily, allowing him to follow up with another, before standing and unleashing a roundhouse to the ribs. Manson responds, dealing out one of his own, his shin making contact with the ribs, likewise, and Johnny fires off another. However, rather than be suckered into Johnny's game, Manson pushes forward and lands a knee to the stomach. Dangeorus goes down to all fours and Manson is there to bring him up, grabbing his arm and sending him off into the ropes. Johnny approaches as Manson charges forward toward him, firing off his crooked arm upward and catching Dangerous with a European uppercut! Dangerous goes down, clutching his jaw, clearly hurting, as Manson scrambles into a cover!

 

"ONE!"

 

"Dangerous, out a one off the knee and a hard European uppercut by Manson!"

 

"Johnny nearly broke his jaw on that one… any lesser man surely would have, that's how hard the Raging Bull his you."

 

Manson rolls off Dangerous, stands and pulls him up, striking with another hard uppercut! Johnny stumbles back into the ropes, looking for some room as Manson pursues with right hands. Into the bottom left corner he goes, continually being battered by Manson in the early going and looking for reprieve, but he finds none as with another European uppercut, he finds himself on his ass, slumped against the bottom rope. Seemingly casual in his work, making things look easy right now, he rakes his boot across the cheek of Dangerous a number of times, then pulls away, throwing up the horns to boos and building into a run, as he bounces off the opposite side ropes and comes back, looking for the Brainwash! However, Dangerous pulls himself out of the way, as Manson hits the ropes and bounces off, back into the ring, and hacking up a lung while holding his groin. Dangerous wraps his arm around the neck and pulls Manson up briefly, before dropping him back down with a DDT!

 

"There's a DDT by Johnny Dangerous off the blown Brainwash attempt!" shouts Mak, as Manson stands, now focused on his neck.

 

However, just as he gets up to his feet, Dangerous whips him back down to the mat with a swinging neckbreaker and goes into a cover!

 

"ONE!"

 

"T--!"

 

"And there's Manson out of the pinfall off the neckbreaker!"

 

Dangerous comes up to his feet, pulling up Manson with him, but a quick wraparound punch to the kidney puts a stop to that, as Dangerous relinquishes. Manson stands, ducking behind Johnny with a side waistlock, but Johnny furiously elbows his way out of it. Still with his back to Manson, Dangerous unleashes a backfist to the side of Manson's head! Nearly out on his feet, as Johnny comes back around, Manson instead fires off a roundhouse kick up high! He dances back out of the way, the kick just barely grazing him. However, when he steps forward once again, his opponent catches him and clasps his hands behind his head, and before he can react, Manson throws him overhead with a gargoyle suplex!

 

"There's a gargoyle suplex by Manson! And Johnny is out of the ring!" says Mak, as Dangerous rolls out.

 

"He doesn't want to go out there. That's where Manson is at his best."

 

"I don’t think he has much say in the matter because Manson just won't let up."

 

On the outside, Dangerous looks for some room to breathe, but is soon met by Manson, who clubs him over the back and takes him down to a knee. As Johnny stands, Manson lays in a right, but a desperate Dangerous responds with another low kick to the ribs. As Manson cringes from the blow, Johnny goes for the neck with a single kesagiri chop! Manson fires off another right, but Johnny goes back to the neck with another chop, and another, taking a page out of Manson's book by borrowing the repeated kesagiri strikes! Looking to even things up, Dangerous grabs Manson by the arm, attempting to send him crashing into the adjacent steps. But he breaks Dangerous's hold and jumping up, extends his leg, catching Dangerous flush with a gamengiri!

 

"Going right back to the neck, Dangerous nearly got back into the game, but that gamengiri just dashed his hopes!" shouts Mak, as Manson stands and grabs onto Dangerous now.

 

His hold firm, Manson yanks Johnny forward, sending him into the cold steel steps!

 

"And Johnny goes into the steps! This spells trouble, King! He hasn't been able to get going!"

 

"Of course he hasn't, I told you not to underestimate the reborn Messiah!"

 

"Well, if he doesn't start soon, I fear he'll never be able to come back on him!"

 

As Johnny writhes on the ground, Manson dashes over and forces him back into the ring, going for a cover as he does so.

 

"ONE!

 

 

TWO!"

 

"Shoulder up by Dangerous after two, that wasn't enough to get it done!"

 

Manson brings Dangerous up, dragging him by his neck into the corner, where he lays in a number of short headbutts, further disorienting Dangerous. He repeats the process for the Irish whip, sending him into the opposite corner, where Johnny nearly collapses, but stays standing with a quick grab of the ropes. Opposite of Dangerous, Manson points at him and charges, jumping up and looking for a knockout knee to the jaw, but Johnny's instincts cause him to pull himself out of the way, leaving nothing between Manson's knee and the turnbuckle! Manson bounces off, gripping his knee as he stands, but Johnny goes low with a dropkick, taking him down once again.

 

"He was looking for a big knee but came up empty, and now Johnny goes low, looking to take advantage!"

 

As Manson stands, Johnny bounces off the ropes, winds up and nearly breaks his jaw with a shotei palm! The crowd begins getting behind Johnny as Manson stands in a daze, lost as Johnny picks Manson up onto his shoulders and somersaults forward, planting him into the mat with a rolling fireman's carry, the Spinal Explosion! As Manson lays still on the mat, Dangerous heads out to the apron and after taking a moment to acknowledge the fans, heads on up. He jumps off, flipping in mid-air… and looking for the Shooting Johnny Press! However, the quick thinking Manson rolls out of the way in the nick of time, as Johnny crashes into the mat!

 

"Shooting Johnny Press! But Manson is able to get out of the way and this is now spelling disaster for Dangerous!"

 

"He got too excited, too ahead of himself and now he's paid for it!"

 

Johnny is up quickly, albeit in pain as he grimaces and grips his midsection. Soon Manson pops up and takes Dangerous up onto his shoulders, looking for the Double Knee Gutbuster! However, his wits about him now, Dangerous crashes down onto the side of the neck with an elbow, forcing Manson to release his hold. Still, as Dangerous lands on his feet behind Manson, he turns and catches a boot to the face as Manson somersaults forward and lands the koppou kick!

 

"The rolling koppou kick, Johnny caught it clean!" screams Mak.

 

Dangerous goes down, but Manson is on him quick, reaching down and pulling him up. He wraps an arm around his head from behind and hoists Dangerous into the air, then dropping him back down quick and spiking him into the mat! The crowd groans as Dangerous goes lights out and Manson covers.

 

"The Instant Hell Murder! He's been using that vicious little number to pick up his victories lately and I only hope Dangerous is okay!"

 

"I can tell you this much, this wasn't a very merry Christmas for Johnny Dangerous!"

 

"ONE!!!

 

 

 

TWO!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREEE!!!!!!"

 

 

*DING DING!*

 

"Your winner by pinfall… MMMMAAAAAAANNNNNSOOONNNN!"

 

Manson rolls off Dangerous, standing as Kivell raises his arm and 'Scientific Remote Viewing' begins.

 

"I hope Dangerous can get it together soon," comments Mak, "but as far as Manson goes, it was an impressive victory."

 

"Literally. Let's have the staff find what remains of Dangerous in the canvas, but let's give credit where credit is due, Mak. The Savage Messiah just took out an SWF World Champion for his third in a row. If that doesn't put him in line for an opportunity then there's just no justice at all!"

 

"He'll get his chance soon enough in the Clusterfuck and if he does there what he did tonight, everyone else in the match could be in for a rude awakening," says Mak, as we fade out.

[King Cucaracha 0]

SWF World Tag Team Championships

Revolution Zero © VS. VDN

 

 

The US Cellular Center falls into a hush as Funyon hits the ring again, mic in hand, ready for his next announcement. “Ladies and gentleman, the following contest is a tag team match, scheduled for ONE fall and it will for the SWF Tag Team Championship Titles!” He booms out as the remixed version of ‘Guilty’ kicks in over the Centre’s PA system, pyro flying from the entrance ramp, the crowd roaring into life with a hail of cheers and yells.

 

“Introducing firstly, the challengers, at a combined weight of 608lbs, the team of Dace Night and Va’aiga… VIOLENCE DISTRUBTION NETWORK!”. With each rising chord of the heavy industrial music the letters “V... D... N” flash on the SmarkTron, inter-cut with both The Maori Badass and Dace kicking major league ass. The duo strides down the entrance ramp, slapping hands wit the fans. Va'aiga takes time out on his walk down to the ring to find a ringside camera and scream “IT'S ON!” before climbing up into the ring. Standing tall atop the ring posts, the pair throw their arms up , to a fresh hail of cheers. “Well King, I know you won’t agree, but Revolution Zero are in trouble tonight. Former tag champs, back on the same page, this match is going to be one to watch,” Mak Francis calls.

 

Taking up a stand in the corner, the Maori Badness and Dace send their last few moments talking tactics as Funyon continues his introductions. “And their opponents, at a combined weight of 458bs, the SWF Tag Team Champions of the World… Austin Sly and Toxxic…REVOLUTION ZERO!” ‘Know Your Enemy’ kicks up over the PA, as the Rev-0 signs flash on the screen, the figures of the Tag Champs standing at the top of the ramp under a stream of pyro.

 

BOOM!

 

 

BOOM!

 

 

BOOM!

 

 

BOOOOOOOOOOOM!

 

“KNOW YOUR ENEMY!”

 

The Straightedge Sensation waves to the booing crowd with a grin, taking a moment to buff his title belt as he and Sly stroll down to the ring.

 

Sliding under the ring ropes, Revolution Zero take a moment to flip off the challengers before hoisting their title belts into the air, showing them off for the booing crowds and their own smugness. Handing Tag Titles over to referee Soapdish, Toxxic makes a wagging ‘not yours’ motion towards VDN. “Mak, you’re an idiot. I say that, because I haven’t said it for five minutes. But on another note, you really are an idiot. Revolution Zero have more than just a pair of matches under their belt as far as groove goes and on top of that, neither of them are rusty. So I think we’ll be seeing a nice swift title defence. Though hopefully not too clean,” The Suicide King comments with a snort.

 

“Well, there’s no danger of any love being lost between anyone in this ring, but really King, this one isn’t going to be so short,” Mak fires back as Soapdish starts to signal for the opening bell. Once again, Toxxic and Dace Night stand face to face in the middle of the ring, the two Brits glaring at each other. With a cry and a sudden lunge, Dace shoots forwards, angling for a single leg take down, but the Straightedge Sensation sees it coming and jerks his knee up, slamming it into Dace’s face. But with a grunt, Dace charges right through the impact, hauling the tag champ off his feet in a charge.

 

The crowd explodes into cheers as Night makes a train, straight into the corner, squashing the smaller Toxxic between himself and the buckles. “Well, there’s that British sportsmanship you hear so much about.” Francis calls, as Dace Night starts to hammer away, firing off right hands into Toxxic’s head, while Soapdish starts his five count. “Ohh, that’s what I want to see, go get a DQ in under thirty seconds, go on Mr F’n’ Night, be a fool.” Mocks King

 

One… two… three… four… CRACK! Dace finishes off his attack with a good old fashioned elbow to the face. Stepping back from the corner to break the count, Dace Night grins then hauls Toxxic out of the corner, easily scooping the small Brit up and over, with a little twist. Bam, all 260lbs of Dace’s weight comes hammering down on Toxxic, pinning him to the mat with a powerslam. “You know King, I get the feeling Dace still doesn’t like Toxxic. It looks like he’s trying to streamroller the guy for the titles right now!” Mak calls, watching Soapdish dive mat-wards for a count.

 

ONE…!

 

Toxxic smoothly rolls a shoulder up off the might, only to have Night drive a knee square into the back of his head. Rolling up to his feet, Dace drags Toxxic by the scruff of his neck and breaks into a run, smashing Toxxic’s face straight into the turnbuckle of the VDN corner. One last blow to the back of the head for good measure, and Dace tags out to Va’aiga with a grin. Climbing through the ropes, the Maori Badness wastes no time in laces his arms around the struggling tag champ and sends Toxxic crashing into the mat again, with a back suplex. “Come on Soapdish, get the action out of the corner, you can’t just let VND man handle people like that!” cries the Suicide King. “I’m just going to wait til things are the other way around King, I’ll just wait,” Francis chips in with a sigh.

 

Twisting over on the mat, Va’aiga makes for a quick cover, bringing his weight down on Toxxic and forcing the Straightedger to expand energy kicking out over the cover…

 

ONE…!

 

VAH-ING-UH! VAH-ING-UH! VAH-ING-UH! The Cellular Center crowd already moving in support of the Maori Badass as he gets back to his feet. Across the ring, Austin Sly is already reading as far as the tag rope will allow him, almost leaning over into the right, clearly wanting to mix things up before Toxxic gets into real trouble. Va’aiga makes his way back to his feet, as Toxxic tries to scramble for some momentum. Cutting off the struggle, Va’aiga sends the Straightedge Brit hurtling towards the ropes with an irish whip. Va’aiga braces himself for the leap he’s sure the rebounded Toxxic will make, but instead, Toxxic dives low with a slide through the big Maori's legs. Quickly kipping up to his feet, the Straightedge Sensation staggers Va’aiga with a rapid fire dropkick, sending him wobbling for a few moments. The few moments Toxxic needs to reach the ropes and full speed for a leap through the and a springboard dropkick that sends the Maori Badass tumbling down to the mat.

 

Scrambling to his corner, Toxxic tags out to the waiting Austin Sly. “See, some take away the bully boy tactics from VDN and they’ve got nothing on Revolution Zero.” King points out. The Sly One bounds into the ring, taking a leap from the ropes and crashes into the rising Va’aiga with a flying elbow, sending him back down to the mat in a sprawl. The fans around the arena switch back to booing as Rev Zero seem to get the upper hand in this match. But as Sly and Va’aiga sprawl across the mat, the Maori manages to connect with a swift headbutt.

 

Using the force of the blow to get some room, the Maori Badness hauls himself back onto his feet at the same time Sly makes it up. KICK HIS ASS! KICK HIS ASS! KICK HIS ASS!

 

The Rev Zero members and Va’aiga edge towards each other slowly, Austin Sly even reaching out for a straight tie up. “Sly is going to a lock up with Va’aiga, this isn’t going to end well for him. Even with his speed, Austin Sly will get crushed up like a paper ball,” Francis calls as the two lock up. Instantly Va’aiga turns on the power and forces Sly down onto his knees in the middle of the ring. Trying to escape, Sly makes a back roll, but the big Maori just forces him flat down onto the mat, stopping him mid-roll and causing a cover at the same time.

 

ONE…!

 

Sly manages to roll a shoulder up, breaking the pin. Bracing his feet, he rams them into Va’aiga chest, looking to kick him away, or a score a monkey flip, but he doesn’t have enough leverage to shift the bigger man. Switch tactics, the Sly One makes a sweep at Va’aiga’s knees, hobbling him just enough to break free. Quickly back rolling to his feet, Sly twists around and delivers a back heel kick into the chest of the Maori Badness. With his opponent staggered, the tag champ leaps back into action, wrapping his arm around the massive neck of the Maori before taking Va’aiga down to the mat with a DDT. Va'aiga sits up and glares at Sly while Toxxic applauds his partner from the Rev-0 corner.

 

“Revolution Zero have held the titles for a long time,” comments Mak. King replies quickly, “That's because they're the best, Francis. Simply the best.” Sly meanwhile is stalking Va'aiga, waiting for the Maori to stand again. Sly lines up another kick and wheels round, swinging his leg for the Maori's gut. Va'aiga swats the leg quickly away with a reflexive motion of his arm and Sly responds by backing off. Sly brushes a hand through his hair and falls back to his corner, tagging Toxxic back in. “Quick tags, that's the secret to tag team wrestling Francis,” adds King.

 

With that familiar lopsided smirk in full display Toxxic advances on the Maori. Va'aiga swings a loose punch at Toxxic but the Straight Edger ducks and takes a back waistlock. Va'aiga goes for a standing switch but Toxxic switches back and takes the German Suplex position himself. Va'aiga fires a loose back elbow but it again misses as Toxxic drops down to his knees and picks the Maori's legs, dropping Va'aiga face first down to the canvas. Toxxic stands and fires a pair of short kicks into the Maori's thigh, then breaks back for his own corner and tags out again.

 

“See the well oiled machine in action Mak? That's what makes Revolution Zero the champs!” King comments as Sly moves in on the downed Maori. Checking the distance from the ropes Sly takes aim, a few paces of run up and bounces gracefully off the second rope, landing a perfectly placed springboard leg drop across the bazck of the Maori's legs. The Maori grunts in pain as Sly stands and draws the ire of the crowd with a self satisfied smirk. “Sly showing a little arrogance there,” remarks The Franchise. King snorts with derision, “That's not arrogance, that's just well founded confidence.”

 

Dropping down to mat level Austin Sly grabs for one of the tree trunk like legs of the Maori. Wrapping his arms tight around the leg he's taken, Sly locks in a tight leg lock. Positioned in the middle of the ring Va'aiga is in no position to reach the ropes and instead tries to roll around in the hold, reducing the pressure. “Solid technical wrestling here from Sly – the way to beat a larger opponent,” compliments King. Gritting his teeth Va'aiga tries to roll out of the move, but Sly releases the hold and then reapplies it the other way up, frustrating the Maori. Dace claps in time with a small rise of noise from the crowd, urging the Maori to break free but Sly holds on tight, and checking his ring positioning allows Va'aiga to roll again, this time maintaining the hold as the pair move closer to the Rev-0 corner. Sly reaches an arm out for Toxxic who, straining the tag rope to near breaking point, reaches into the ring and tags himself in. Toxxic vaults the ropes and drives a knee into Va'aiga's leg as Sly breaks the hold and leaves the ring.

 

“You see the slickness, the togetherness,” adds King, “That's always going to be in their favour.” Mak replies, “Revolution Zero are a tight unit, there's no denying it.” Toxxic grins at the crowd, drawing a brief round of boos as Va'aiga slowly tries to regain his footing. However as the Maori gets back up Toxxic takes him straight down to one knee again with a sharply delivered dropkick to his shin. A second dropkick to the now kneeling Maori takes him down to mat level and Toxxic, standing over the Maori, takes a deep breath and snaps off a beautiful standing moonsault hooking the leg for a cover. Soapdish drops to count...

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

T... and Va'aiga kicks out. “Not even close!” calls Mak. “That won't matter to Toxxic, Francis, he's always willing to play the long game.” Stooping over Toxxic grabs Va'aiga's right leg and lifts it up before driving it knee first into the mat. The Straight Edger keeps hold and lifts the leg again. Another drive down into the mat. Another lift. A third drive down. Toxxic relinquishes his grip and stand up, allowing himself a self-satisfied pose. “Oh it's good to be in control, Mak,” comments King, “It's all about the ring generalship of Toxxic tonight.”

 

Toxxic locks an arm of Va'aiga in something vaguely resembling a hammerlock. Dragging Va'aiga to his feet Toxxic unwinds the arm hold, launching Va'aiga into the ropes. As the Maori rebounds Toxxic slides down at canvas level and attempts to Soccer Tackle the Maori down. With his legs around Va'aiga's Toxxic strains to drop the Maori down, but Va'aiga steps out of the modified drop toe hold attempt. “Not enough damage done to those legs to take The Maori down like that, King,” comments Mak. Toxxic backs off and heads to the ropes for some momentum, charging the Maori but as Toxxic goes for yet another basement dropkick Va'aiga steps to a side, allowing him to watch Toxxic slide harmlessly past him. The Englishman stands, JUUUUST in time to see Va'aiga heading off the far ropes with a head of steam on. Toxxic braces for impact but the Maori goes low and wraps his arms around the Straight Edge Sensation's waist, dropping him sharply to the canvas. Va'aiga from the mount WAILS away on Toxxic's face with a steady stream of punches before Soapdish breaks it up.

 

“Look at the cheating from VDN! JUST LOOK AT IT MAK FRANCIS!” complains King, “Look at those closed fists!” “I presume you'd highly disapprove of the cheating King?” questions Francis. “It personally disgusts me,” replies King. Va'aiga, meanwhile, is rubbing his leg to try and get the blood flowing faster to it as Toxxic retreats to his own corner and tags out. Sensing a half chance of an opening Sly rushes at Va'aiga but the Maori summons up all his ring awareness and takes a half step, causing Sly to rush past him. Sly rebounds off the far ropes and on his return Maoriwards Va'aiga jacks him into the air with a hand planted firmly in Sly's chest. Sly falls flat on the canvas and Va'aiga wheels round, throwing the Shaka sign to the crowd and screaming out a predictable “BOO-YAH!” With his back turned to his opponent Va'aiga holds an arm down between his legs, predicting and catching Austin Sly in the middle of a low blow attempt! Va'aiga drags Sly to his feet through his own legs with a top wristlock and takes the time to ask his opponent, “Oh you feelin' froggy, huh?”

 

“Va'aiga playing the cagey veteran there. That low blow was maybe a little too predictable for The Maori,” remarks Mak. Va'aiga fires off a bang-bang punch combination, stunning Sly for long enough to allow the Maori to tag Dace in. Dace stands on the opposite side to Va'aiga and the pair rush Sly, Va'aiga catching him in the stomach with a vicious knee strike, Dace wrapping his arm around the doubled up opponent's neck and driving him to the mat with a DDT, Va'aiga following up with a headbutt dropped into Sly's bread-basket and as Va'aiga rolls away Dace drops to cover...

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THR... and Toxxic steps in to break up the count. Nick Soapdish removes Va'aiga from the ring but with his attention distracted Toxxic gets in a quick cheap shot to the back of Dace Night's knee! “Now did you see THAT cheating, King?” asks Mak. “If the ref didn't see it, it's not cheating, Francis,” reminds King. Sly backs off a few steps and then just punts Dace in the chest with a kick to take him down to mat level. Stalking his prey like a cat, Sly places a few perfectly timed kicks into Dace's right leg. “Revolution Zero have a plan,” says King, “Keep it on the mat, and the best way to do that is if your opponents can't stand up.”

 

Sly grabs for Dace's leg and wrenches back, turning Dace onto his back. With the Half Crab locked in, The Sly One takes great pleasure on adding a little torque to the ankle, increasing the damage of the hold. Dace uses his natural strength to force himself halfway out of Sly's grasp, so Austin drags him by the leg into his own corner rather than maintaining the hold. Toxxic, holding the tag rope outstretched so both the crowd and Nick Soapdish can see he's playing by the rules, tags himself in. The Nottingham born man steps into the ring and joins Sly in a small stomp assassination of Dace's leg. Soapdish gets four of a five count off on Sly before he leaves the ring.

 

“This is what makes Revolution Zero such a good team. They just do the little things right. Strategy, positioning, it's all so very good,” King praises. “I have to admit they are impressive as a unit,” agrees Mak Francis. Toxxic measures Dace Night carefully, waiting on his countryman to regain his footing before taking Dace back down with a Fireman's Carry – twisting Dace in mid air to make DAMN sure his right leg took a little extra impact. Checking Dace's position, Toxxic bounds up to the top rope in his own corner, tags in Sly and FLIES from the top rope, somersaulting in mid air and bringing his leg down with a crash across Dace's legs.”The Hangover!” calls Mak, “again the speed of Revolution Zero telling.” Dace winces as Toxxic rolls out of the ring and steps back to his corner.

 

Sly in the ring again now sizes up Dace and as the Brummie slowly gets to his feet, Sly grabs for Dace's leg and lifts him up by it, dropping Dace shin first across his knee. Dace drops back to the mat and after another quick kick, Sly drops to the mat and covers...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

TH... and Dace kicks out. Sly shrugs and focuses AGAIN on Dace's legs. This time he locks in a trademark figure four leglock and as he drops back, Va'aiga rushes in to stomp on Sly and break the hold. “That was a close call, that Figure Four is deadly,” comments King. As Nick Soapdish argues with Va'aiga while trying to remove the massive Maori, Toxxic hops back into the ring and to a MASSIVE round of boos the Rev-0 pair pulverise Dace's leg with kicks again.

 

Austin Sly tries for another pin, attempting to make use of the confusion in the ring but Nick Soapdish isn't really watching so he contents himself with a rake of Dace's eyes. Sly stands and picks Dace's leg again, this time trapping it behind one of his own, and then dropping to the mat adding a Facelock to the Stepover Toehold. Dace wriggles the facelock down to a chinlock, and as Sly has to change the direction of pressure, Dace rolls his way free. Dace stands slowly and tries to swing an elbow but Sly ducks and lets Dace spin round RIGHT into a belly to back suplex. Sly floats over and covers...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

TH.. and Dace just about kicks out again. Sly casually tags Toxxic back in and the infamous grin is back in full effect. Toxxic looks down at Dace and lifts him up. Measuring Dace closely Toxxic rears back and fires off the Stephenskick into Dace's chest. Toxxic watches Dace's crumple interestedly as the Brummie's worked over leg collapses first as he falls. Toxxic drops to a lazy cover...

 

 

ONE!

 

But breaks the pin up himself as he transitions from the hooked leg into a leg lace. Toxxic drops down and locks in the Regal Stretch, but again it's barely 5 seconds of damage as the Maori runs to break it up. Toxxic tags out and flicks the V sign at Va'aiga as he steps out of the ring. Va'aiga turns and rushes Toxxic's corner but the Straight Edge sensation drops off the ring apron as the Maori comes in with an elbow. Soapdish again has to shepherd a remonstrating Maori back to his own corner, and this time Sly stands, poses to a resolute chant of “Austin sucks!” and punts Dace Night SQUARE IN THE NUTS! Dace drops to the canvas. Sly poses again. “That's the way you retain titles. Wrestling smart,” remarks King. “Wrestling dirty,” corrects Mak. “That's what I said,” the Ace of Clubs retorts.

 

Looking at his partner hopping back up to the ring apron and the Maori finally being brought under control, Sly decides to press home his advantage. Firstly he drops a leg across Dace's, then he stands, lifts up his opponent and snaps him quickly down to the mat with a neckbreaker, just to cause some general damage. Finally Sly drops to cover and Nick Soapdish drops to count...

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

THR... and Dace juuuuust manages to lift a shoulder. “That was a close call for Dace Night,” commentates Mak Francis. “It's going to be all over soon, Francis,” adds King.

 

With Dace down on the mat, The Sly One looks over at Toxxic, clutching the tag rope in his own corner and nods. Toxxic responds with a grin. “This is over, Francis,” adds King, smirking, “Sly's got him right where he wants him.” Sly looks down at Dace disgustedly and grabs for Birmingham's King Of Hardcore's foot. Wrenching it upwards and round violently Sly locks in his patented ankle lock tight. “THE SLYLOCK! Dace Night is in trouble!” shouts Mak. Dace winces in pain. The crowd noise raises.

 

“He can't escape now Mak! Dace Night is done for!,” comes the commentary from King as Dace struggles and writhes inside the hold. In his own corner Va'aiga, clutching the tag rope in case Dace escapes to his own corner. The massive Maori thumps the turnbuckle rhythmically with his free hand, leading the crowd nin first a series of claps, then a loud chant of “DACE F'N NIGHT! DACE F'N NIGHT!” Sly wrenches back again, visibly straining under the effort while Dace begins slapping the mat, channeling the energy of the crowd. “Blot these idiots out of your mind Sly!” suggests King, “You have this match in your grasp!”

 

Nick Soapdish asks Dace Night if he wants to give up, Sly having shouted a loud “Ask him!” a second ago. Night responds with a defiant shake of his head. “DACE F'N NIGHT! DACE F'N NIGHT!” The almost tribal chanting of the crowd flows through Dace and the Brummie slaps the mat in time with the chant again. “ASK HIM DAMNIT!” Another question from Soapdish. Another shake of the head. “DACE F'N NIGHT! DACE F'N NIGHT!”

“ASK HIM!”

 

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!” Dace screams as he shakes his head!

 

“DACE F'N NIGHT! DACE F'N NIGHT!”

 

“ASK HIM!”

 

“NOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“DACE F'N NIGHT! DACE F'N NIGHT!”

 

“ASK H.... OH SHIT!” Sly exclaims as Dace slides his other foot into position and sends Sly FLYING off him with a sort of improvised Mule Kick. Dace hobbles back to his feet as Sly rushes in, looking to press home any advantage he has left... AND CHARGES RIGHT INTO A DACE NIGHT ELBOW! Dace rolls away to his own corner and with Va'aiga stretching out and clasping a firm hold of the tag rope Dace reaches an arm up and....

 

“THE MAORI BADASS HAS BEEN TAGGED IN! BUSINESS IS ABOUT TO PICK UP!” screams Francis as Va'aiga makes his way into the ring. Sly charges in with a fair head of steam up and gets FLOORED with a big right hand. Sly regains his footing for a brief moment before a second right hand floors him again. Sly BUTT scoots back towards his own corner but the Maori cuts him off and lifting the Sly One roughly to his feet, Va'aiga slides round behind his victim, grabs a back waistlock and SPLATS Sly with a massive Release German Suplex. Deciding to take control of the situation Toxxic blind tags Sly, hops up to the top rope on his own corner and leaps off, trying to catch the Maori off guard... but the only thing that gets caught is Toxxic in the Maori's MASSIVE arms. Va'aiga makes a slight adjustment to Toxxic's position and...

 

CRUMP!

 

“THE MAORI DROP! Toxxic just got wiped out!” shouts Mak Francis. Va'aiga stands, looks down at Toxxic lying there, pats his belly and grins. Sly attempts to use this celebration as a distraction and whips another heel kick into Va'aiga's chest. Sly grabs Va'aiga in a front facelock, but before he can turn the predicament into another move Va'aiga adjusts his weight and flicks Sly backwards over himself, sort of like an improvised Northern Lights Suplex. Va'aiga stands again and surveying the carnage in the ring allows himself a “BOO-YAH!” which the crowd duly responds to with one of their own. “OK this is bad, Francis, I think I see the Maori adjusting his forearm tape,” adds King.

 

Everyone in the arena seems to know what's coming but Austin Sly, slwly regaining his feet is blissfully unaware of what the Maori is planning... Va'aiga has the target in his sites like the Pro Wrestling Assassin he is, waits ever so patiently for Sly to stand and then MURDERIZES HIM WITH THE EVIL NASTY VICIOUS BONE SNAPPING JOINT SEPERATING LAAAAAAAAAAAARRRIIIIIAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Sly flips over the Maori's arm, slumps limply onto the canvas and uses the last of his strength to roll out of the ring. “THE LARIAT! THE LARIAT! THE LARIAT!” hollers Francis. “Try not to sound so pleased, it's unprofessional,” replies King, slyly.

 

Turning his attention to Toxxic, Va'aiga hauls the man from Shottingham to his feet and whips him into the VDN corner. Staring straight at the slightly begging off Toxxic, Va'aiga backs into the opposite corner, works up a head of steam and charges into Toxxic big fat puku first! Toxxic slumps down as Va'aiga nods to Dace and tags him into the match. Va'aiga kicks away at the slumped Toxxic as Dace gingerly steps into the ring, but when Va'aiga makes the throat slice motion, Dace shakes Va'aiga off. “I don't think that Dace Night wants to attempt the Decapitator, not with his leg still hurting,” comments Mak.

 

Dace points at the centre of the ring and Va'aiga obliges, dragging Toxxic into position. With the Straight Edge Sensation right where Dace wants him, Va'aiga turns his attention to the outside and quickly spotting Austin Sly returning to the ring apron, Va'aiga knocks him back down again with a massive elbow smash. Meanwhile Dace grabs Toxxic's legs and the West Midlander flips the East Midlander over and wrenches back, grimacing with the effort and his own pain and applying THE TORTURE CRAB! “Dace Night has Toxxic all tied up! This could be it for the reign of Revolution Zero!” Soapdish, trying to restore order points Va'aigae back to is own corner and commences a five count, but Va'aiga decides to use the time to measure himself up in line with Toxxic's head, check the wind condition rugby kicker style and bow his head for a brief moment... BEOFRE NEARLY TAKING TOXXIC'S HEAD OFF WITH A MASSIVE KICK! Moaning with the pain of the Crab, Toxxic turns his head to lookfor some Salvation from Austin Sly, but there is none forthcoming. Va'aiga lines up another kick, making sure to stay totally in view of the Straight Edge Sensation and with the combined pain of the Crab and the thought of having his skull totally caved in....

 

“TOXXIC TAPS! THE WORLD CHAMPION JUST TAPPED OUT TO DACE NIGHT! THE VIOLENCE DISTRIBUTION NETWORK HAVE WON THE TAG TEEAM TITLES!” Mak Francis' voice is at fever pitch. The bell rings out but VA'AIGA PUNT KICKS TOXXIC AGAIN ANYWAY! “That was uncalled for!” calls King. “That's the way the Maori sends a message,” replies Francis. As “Guilty” plays round the arena again, Va'aiga takes all three belts from their resting place with the ring attendant, drops the World Title on the fallen Toxxic's chest and throws the other tag title to Dace, who is despreatly massaging some more life into his leg. The VDN move to opposite corners and hold the tag titles aloft to the massive cheers of the fans...

 

“VDN! VDN! VDN! VDN! VDN! VDN! VDN! VDN!”

Edited December 22, 2007 by King Cucaracha

[King Cucaracha 0]

Tom Flesher VS. Nathaniel Kibagami

 

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall,” Funyon booms. “Introducing first-”

 

“Introducing first,” Allison Onita interrupts, stepping out onto the soundstage with microphone in hand, “the twice-and-future World Champion and the best damn wrestler in the business, weighing in at a thoroughly manly 231lbs, he is ‘The Superior One’, TOM FLESHER!”

 

*BOOOM!*

 

And with that ‘When The Levee Breaks’ by Led Zeppelin kicks up and Tom Flesher appears before striding down the entrance ramp with Allison by his side. The fans jeer but Flesher remains aloof, entering the ring and stripping off his warm-up suit before Allison molds herself to him for the photo opportunity.

 

“Here is a true champion, a man who will soon be back at the pinnacle of the SWF,” Suicide King states.

 

“He came up short against Toxxic but Tom still looked impressive,” Mak Francis concedes. “However, he’s going to have his work cut out for him against tonight’s opponent.”

 

“Ah, Kibagami lost to Jenkins,” King spits, “how much threat can he be?”

 

‘CAUSE ME AND MY CLIQUE, WE DON‘T GIVE A FUCK, NIGGA!

TRICK DADDY! LIL‘ JON!

LET’S GO -

 

 

“Let’s Go” hits the speakers and red pyrotechnics flash out from the entrance ramp. The lights turn red and dim as the familiar burning ankh appears on the Smarkstron and Kibagami comes through the curtain at the top of the ramp. He pauses briefly and assumes his traditional crucifix pose - cigarette in one hand, drink in the other - before…

 

*THUMP!*

 

“The hell?” King says as Kibagami suddenly topples forwards to fall on the soundstage and not rise. Behind him appears a familiar figure:

 

 

“Ah, great,” Mak grunts.

 

“That’ll teach you to not to capitalise the start of your sentences!” King shouts at the prone River Dragon. Tom Flesher looks up at the figure of President Ramu, who suddenly runs down to the ring. Flesher looks around for an escape but he’s hemmed in on either side by those pesky ring ropes… and suddenly the President is in front of him.

 

Flesher: OH NOES! RAMU!

 

*WHAM!*

 

“That girl’s got a good chokeslam on her,” Mak Francis notes.

 

“Hell yeah,” King agrees. “Let’s hope she doesn’t win the Clusterfuck, huh?”

 

 

 

 

FADE OUT

[King Cucaracha 0]

FADE IN

 

 

Backstage, SWF Ben Hardy is standing next to Wildchild:

 

“Wildchild, in just a few moments, you’ll be defending the World Cruiserweight Championship against Hollywood Spike Jenkins,” says Ben. “Last week, Spike made a few comments on SWF.net that were directed towards you. Do you have any response?”

 

“I’m gon’ try an’ keep dis short, an’ t’de point,” replies Wildchild, adjusting the Cruiserweight Title on his shoulder. “I had considered respondin’ t’what Spike Jenkins said about me, about how funny it was t’me dat a guy who was in de JL way before I got dere, an’ was still in de JL after I got bumped, calls himself de new kid in town… I t’ought about pointin’ out dat, by de time Spike Jenkins finally got bumped, I’d already won t’ree different titles, on four different occasions… Hell, I t’ought about mentionin’ dat I’ve personally had more successful title defenses against Spike Jenkins den Spike Jenkins has had title reigns… I t’ought about sayin’ all dose t’ings, but I decided against it, because dat’s not where it’s at…”

 

Wildchild pauses to take a breath before taking the Cruiserweight Title from his shoulder, brandishing it in front of him as he looks back into the camera. “Dis is where it’s at, right here: de Cruiserweight Champ’yonship of de Worl’. Dis belt means more t’me den it ever could t’you, an’ you’re not gon’ take it from me!”

 

“Wildchild,” asks Hardy, “you and Spike Jenkins have competed before, and you’ve emerged victorious, but Spike has been on an unbelievable roll, and a lot of people are giving him serious odds on an upset; aren’t you a little worried?”

 

“All de people givin’ Spike Jenkins odds on winnin’,” replies WC, “I hope you’ve got de money t’spare… It’s gon’ take a great man, havin’ a great night, t’beat me for dis belt. An’ Spike Jenkins, dis ain’t dat night… an’ you ain’t dat man!”

 

With that, WC exits, stage right. “Well, there you have it,” says Hardy. “Spike Jenkins says that’s he’s ready for this match, but so is his opponent! This should be a dandy, ladies and gentlemen… King, Mak, back to you!”

 

 

FADE OUT

[King Cucaracha 0]

SWF Cruiserweight Championship

Wildchild © VS. "Hollywood" Spike Jenkins

 

FADE IN

 

“We want to thank those of you watching this DVD,” says Mak Francis, “as well as those of us who are here live in the US Cellular Center. And now it’s just about time for the main event! King, last month at our Class in Session event, Spike Jenkins established himself as a top contender to the World Cruiserweight Championship by destroying four other cruiserweight contenders in a five-way match, and then he followed that up with a very impressive win over Nathaniel Kibagami at Ashes 2 Ashes. And now, he has the opportunity to become the World Cruiserweight Champion for a third time, if he can defeat the Wildchild!”

 

“Spike Jenkins comes into this match with a lot of momentum,” says the Suicide King. “And I believe that he’s got what it takes to pull off the upset here. Wildchild’s shown here recently that he has trouble competing against the strong style, and Spike definitely has experience wrestling like that. But the most important point is that Wildchild has been off his game lately, and if Jenkins can continue to keep him off balance, then he’s going to leave Cedar Rapids here tonight as the World Cruiserweight Champion!”

 

“But King, you know as well as I do that, when that title is on the line, Wildchild is able to summon an enormous amount of reserve, against pretty much anybody he’s been in the ring with for that belt. And keep in mind, even though he’s been a five-time champion, he’s only really been beaten for the belt twice: one time was the result of blatant interference from Scott Pretzler, and the other time was a triple threat match, where he wasn’t even the guy that got pinned!”

 

“Quit trying to come with bogus rationalizations,” scoffs King. “Lost is lost, and being a five-time champion only means that you’ve lost it at least four times. Wildchild is something like oh-for his career in December, I think, and don’t forget that old saying: you’re only as good as your last match!”

 

“What?” Mak glares at King incredulously. “What in the hell are you talking about? First of all, Wildchild won his last match, secondly, he’s won in December the last three years in a row! What, are you just making stuff up now? Where are you getting this shinola from?”

 

“Hmm,” King says idly. “Remind me to fire my statistician…”

 

“A regular fountain of misinformation, you are,” scolds Mak. “And anyway, Wildchild and Spike Jenkins have faced before and, unless I’m mistaken, Wildchild has always come out on top!”

 

“Well, that may be true,” replies King, “but that’s also in the past; Jenkins has never been this hungry for a title when he’s faced Wildchild before, and he’s never had as good an opportunity! Stick up for your boy Wildchild all you want, but don’t be too disappointed when Jenkins shocks the world here tonight!”

 

“When did you become such a big Spike Jenkins fan, anyway?”

 

“Since when do I have to be a Spike Jenkins fan to want to see Wildchild lose?” replies King. “I mean, I’ll admit that the guy has some talent, and we’ve all seen him show flashes of potential when he busts out some actual wrestling… But, for the most part, he’s a spot monkey, and I’ve never liked seeing guys like that in the ring; he’s setting a bad example for the kids watching in the crowd and at home, who want to grow up to become wrestlers. Spike Jenkins may not be my favorite guy in the world, but at least you’re never going to hear about some kid jumping off a roof and breaking his neck and dying in his backyard trying to be like Spike Jenkins!”

 

“Some very strong words from the Suicide King,” states Mak. “The one thing that I will agree with you on, King, is that Spike Jenkins can beat anybody if he’s motivated. If he brings it tonight, Wildchild could be in for the fight of his career. So, without further ado, let’s send it up to Funyon for our ring introductions!”

 

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

 

“Wrestling fans,” shouts Funyon, “it is now time… for the MAIN EVENT!”

 

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

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

 

RAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

 

 

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

 

“I hope this is a passing phase.

There is no future where I stand,

Here with you!”

 

 

The lights on the stage begin to flicker on and off. The audience begins to stomp their feet and clap their hands as they await The New Straight Edge Sensation. A small, but audible “Spike…Spike…Spike” chant breaks out inside the arena.

 

“This Is…

 

 

 

 

 

…The End!”

 

 

With that, the crowd goes into frenzy as “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins steps out from behind the curtain, his face obscured by his hooded pullover sweatshirt. Jenkins barely acknowledges the fans as he stomps down the aisle towards the ring.

 

“The challenger is all business,” says Mak, as Spike continues to make his way down the aisle. “It looks like he doesn’t want any distractions as he heads on down to the ring!” Jenkins removes his hoodie as he approaches the ring, and tosses it absentmindedly in the general direction of a ring attendant; he then stomps purposefully up the steel stairs to the apron, and steps between the top and middle ropes to enter the ring.

 

“That’s a definite look of determination on the face of Spike Jenkins,” notes King, as the lights come back on. “I’ve got to say that I think we’re going to see the title change hands here tonight!”

 

“What’s going to make tonight different from their previous encounters?”

 

“Jenkins has shown maturity, and the willingness to evolve his style,” replies King. “He’s become more adaptable than Wildchild is, and that’s why I think he’s going to win: he’s faced Wildchild enough times to be familiar with his style, and knows how to neutralize him… Wildchild’s too predictable…”

 

“Wait a minute, King,” interrupts Mak. “Wildchild is the most unorthodox wrestler that we have in the SWF right now; how can you call him predictable?”

 

“Because ‘unorthodox’ isn’t the same as random,” replies King. “It just means that he doesn’t wrestle like a real wrestler. Wildchild may not use many actual wrestling holds or submissions, but he’s about as paint-by-numbers as they come: armdrag, dropkick, cross-body, Wild Ride. They don’t get much more predictable than he is, and that’s why it’s so easy to take him out of his offense!”

 

“I think you’re forgetting though, King, that Wildchild really gets to open up his offense against other cruiserweights,” counters Mak. “I mean, we see him wrestle opponents that are much larger than him, like Christian Blackwell, where his lack of upper body strength really limits his offense, and it’s easy to forget that when he’s in his own weight class, his limitations aren’t as problematic.” Jenkins leans into his assigned corner, his hands clasped together, rolling his wrists as “When Keeping it Real Goes Wrong” fades into the ethereal. The fans begin to cheer wildly the lights abruptly cut out and a familiar squeal echoes throughout the arena:

 

 

RAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

 

“ATTENTION!

 

 

ALL YOU NIGGAZ!

 

ALL YOU BITCHES!

 

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

 

 

TIME TO THROW A LITTLE MUD IN THIS MOTHERFUCKA…”

 

Cedar Rapids erupts as Redman’s “Let’s Get Dirty” heralds the arrival of the Bahama Bomber! A solitary spotlight pierces the US Cellular Arena, flashing off and on in rhythmic time as the beat throbs melodiously. The cheers become even louder as the Bahama Bomber bursts from behind the curtain…

 

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

“They’re on their feet here for the Wildchild!” shouts Mak, as Wildchild pauses at the top of the staging area, before purposefully making his way down the aisle. The Champion slaps hands with the fans surrounding the barricade as he proceeds towards the ring.

 

“I tell you what, King, it looks like there’s no shortage of confidence on the face of the Champion, either! You don’t think he’s prepared?”

 

“I’m not convinced that he wants to keep the title as much as Jenkins wants to win it,” says King, as WC somersaults between the bottom and middle ropes to enter the ring. The Champion rolls to his feet and heads over towards the edge of the ring, removing his championship belt as he leaps up onto the middle rope and holds the title overhead as the lights come back on, and Redman’s voice bleats throughout the arena:

 

 

“I CAN’T GET IN DA CLUUUUUB!”

 

 

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

“Doesn’t want to keep it as badly as Jenkins wants to win it?” Mak asks incredulously. “Are you aware that it’s the Cruiserweight Title that’s on the line here tonight? Wildchild lives for that belt; hell, he’d probably leave his woman for that belt!” Spike makes a token gesture towards the edge of the ring, as if to knock Wildchild down, but quickly relents as WC turns to face him; still holding the title overhead with one hand, Wildchild points towards the challenger with his other hand, before hopping down from the ropes and into the ring. He heads over towards his assigned corner as “Let’s Get Dirty” fades out.

 

“Here we go,” says Mak excitedly. “Nine thousand, seven hundred thirty-nine people have filled the US Cellular Center to capacity to see this match tonight, and it’s about to go down! Let’s go back to Funyon!”

 

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

 

“The following contest is scheduled for one fall, with a one-hour time limit,” booms Funyon, “and it is for the SWF World Cruiserweight Championship!”

 

 

RAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

“Introducing first,” continues Funyon, “in the corner to my right, wearing yellow trunks with black trim, is the challenger: from Long Island, New York, and weighing in tonight at two hundred five pounds… here is the Number One Contender to the World Cruiserweight Championship, and the two-time former Cruiserweight Champion of the WOOOOORLD… ‘Hollywood’ SPIIIIIKE JEEEEENKINS!” Spike extends his arms in a crucifix pose, and absorbs the jeers from the audience:

 

 

BOOOOOOOOOO!

 

 

“JENKINS!”

 

 

After a brief pause, Funyon continues. “And, his opponent…”

 

 

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

 

 

“In the corner to my left,” continues Funyon, raising his voice to be heard over the fans, “wearing aquamarine trunks with yellow and black trim: from the Bahamas, and weighing in tonight at two hundred fourteen and three-quarter pounds, he is the five-time… reigning… AAAAAND DEFENDING… SWF Cruiserweight Champion of the WOOOOORLD… the WIIIIILDCHIIIIILD!” WC holds the Championship overhead as adulation pours in from the crowd:

 

 

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

 

 

Referee Ronald “Red” Herrington inspects the challenger’s hands, elbows, knees and boots, and then crosses the ring and does the same for the Champion. WC then surrenders the Cruiserweight Title to Herrington, who walks towards the center of the ring and holds the title overhead to display to the fans, before heading over to the edge of the ring to hand the title to the departing Funyon. Herrington then signals to the timekeeper to ring the bell, signifying the start of the match:

 

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

“Bell’s gone,” says Mak, “and we’re underway!” Jenkins and Wildchild stare at each other from across the ring, and then, before the challenger can take a step further, the Champion surprises him by suddenly charging towards him and knocking him down with a running dropkick that knocks him back into the turnbuckles! WC quickly gets to his feet and rushes the corner again, straddling the turnbuckles and beginning to rain down punches to Spike’s head!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

THREE!

 

 

FOUR!

 

 

“Aggressive start by the Wildchild!” shouts Mak. “He’s taking the fight right to the challenger!” Jenkins shrugs off the initial barrage and pushes the Champion off him; WC rolls to his feet and charges back into the corner, but Jenkins cuts him off with a back elbow to the face…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… And then sweeps his heel behind Wildchild’s, taking the Champion down with a modified O-soto-gari sweep!

 

“And a beautiful STO takedown by the challenger!” announces Mak. “Jenkins put Wildchild’s momentum to a stop very suddenly!” Jenkins pulls WC to his feet and traps him in a front facelock, reaches down to grab him by the leg and immediately lifts him overhead, slamming him back down with a snap suplex! Jenkins floats over for another cover:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

But only gets two! Jenkins pulls WC back to his feet, but the Champion stuns him with a headbutt to the midsection! Wildchild suddenly straightens his back, slamming Jenkins underneath the chin with the top of his head. The Bahama Bomber begins to hammer Jenkins in the face with right jabs, faster than the challenger can block. He runs across the ring, picking up speed as he bounces off the ropes…

 

 

CRASH!

 

 

… But Jenkins scoops WC into his arms and flings him overhead with a tremendous Railgun suplex! Spike checks his lower lip for signs of blood as the Champion writhes on the canvas in pain!

 

“Good God!” shouts Francis. “What a suplex!”

 

“Phenomenal move by the challenger!” praises King. “I told you, Francis, the title’s changing hands here tonight!” Jenkins pulls Wildchild to his feet before unleashing a ferocious Shotei to the chest, and immediately follows up with a spinning backfist that knocks WC to the canvas! He then steps out onto the apron and climbs up onto the top turnbuckle.

 

“Spike’s getting into the high-rent district,” warns Mak. “He’s running the risk of losing all the momentum he’s built up so far in the match!” Jenkins waits until WC starts to get to his feet and then launches himself back into the ring, and levels the Champion with a diving elbow smash!

 

“Elbow Suicida puts Wildchild back down!” says King. “And Jenkins’s got this match completely under control right now!” Jenkins rolls WC underneath the bottom rope to return him to the ring, and crawls in immediately after him. He applies a lateral press:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THR—

 

Wildchild barely kicks out before three! WC foolishly attempts to sit up, and Jenkins swoops in from behind the Champion, deftly applying a chickenwing over-the-shoulder crossface!

 

“Strong Island Stretch!” cheers King. “This is going to do it!” Herrington gets down to his knees and asks Wildchild if he wants to give up, but the Champion replies loudly in the negative.

 

“Wildchild is fighting the effects of this Strong Island Stretch,” says Mak. “He’s known for his flexibility, but this is going to wear him down eventually; I don’t know how much longer he can hold on!” Herrington notices WC’s eyes begin to close from the pain and grabs the Champion’s free arm by the wrist, raising it up and releasing it… But Wildchild doesn’t allow his arm to drop even once!

 

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

With the crowd solidly behind him, WC attempts to fight back, as he negotiates his way towards the edge of the ring. He turns into Jenkins’s body as best he can, and begins to fire away at the challenger’s face, but he can’t get enough force behind his punches to get Jenkins to release the hold.

 

“A valiant effort by the Wildchild to try and get out of that stretch,” notes Mak, “but he still can’t get loose!”

 

“Not enough mustard behind those punches,” taunts King, as the fight appears to be leaving WC once again. “Plus, he’s trying to punch across his own body; there’s no way that he could have thought he had the leverage for that tactic!” Wildchild surges towards the ropes, but he cries out in pain as he flattens again against the canvas, with Spike’s weight still partially atop him. Jenkins shifts his weight to try and add pressure to the hold and Wildchild, realizing that this may be his last chance for escape, rears back and swings for Jenkins’s head!

 

BAP!

 

 

Jenkins’s head snaps back from the force of WC’s right cross! Feeling Spike’s hands separate slightly, Wildchild fires off another right, smashing Jenkins directly across the bridge of the nose, and freeing himself from the hold!

 

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

Wildchild rolls over onto his back and begins punching away at the challenger from a supine position!

 

BAP!

BAP!

BAP!

BAP!

BAP!

 

“Look at Wildchild fire back!” shouts Mak, as WC negotiates his way back to his knees. “He’s like a cornered animal fighting in there!” Wildchild continues on the offensive, peppering Jenkins’s face with a battery of snapping right jabs. Jenkins stuns Wildchild with a rake of the eyes, then pulls Wildchild to his feet and whips him across the ring, hooking his arm under the Champion’s as he bounces off the ropes to take him over with a hiptoss… but the Human Hurricane flips through and lands on his feet, surprising the challenger with a Scoop Slam! WC waits for Jenkins to get back to his feet, before knocking him down with a standing dropkick! He runs to the ropes, but Jenkins buries his knee into WC’s midsection as he rebounds, and quickly follows up with a European uppercut that knocks Wildchild to the canvas! Spike collapses atop the Champion for a cover…

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THR— NO!

 

 

Wildchild just gets the shoulder up! Jenkins pulls WC to his feet and picks him up off the canvas before driving him back down with a Scoop Slam of his own!! Jenkins positions himself behind WC, measuring the Champion as he slowly gets to his feet.

 

“You have to give credit to the Wildchild for his resilience,” says Mak. “But Spike Jenkins remains in control of this matchup. And now, he looks like he might be sizing Wildchild up for a German suplex, or who knows what!” Jenkins traps WC in a waistlock and pops his hips as he snaps him overhead for a release German suplex, but he underestimates his own strength, and Wildchild is able to rotate through it, landing on his feet and grabbing Jenkins in a waistlock of his own, before pulling him backwards into a rolling cradle!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

… But Jenkins rolls through the cradle, grabbing onto WC’s left leg and reversing into a Hiza Jugi-gatame!

 

“That was one of the most impressive counters I’ve ever seen!” screams King. “And he’s got the cross knee-breaker applied… This could do it!” Jenkins tries to cinch in the hold by grapevining WC’s leg, but the Bahama Bomber counters before he can set his center of gravity, rolling both men onto their stomachs, and trapping Jenkins’s legs in the grapevine as he pushes himself to a standing position with his right leg, bending Jenkins into an impromptu, and rather sloppy Sharpshooter! Herrington bends down to check on Jenkins, but the challenger is easily able to fight his way to the edge of the ring, and grab onto the bottom rope.

 

“That was an amazing sequence of wrestling!” exclaims Mak, as Herrington orders WC to break the hold. “The counters were flowing like Cristal right there!” Wildchild beats Jenkins to his feet and dashes across the ring, exploding off the canvas as he bounces off the ropes and twisting in midair, blasting Spike in the face with a flying back elbow! Both men scramble to their feet, and Jenkins charges towards Wildchild, who ducks as the challenger flies overhead. Jenkins grabs WC by the waist and pulls him backwards into a Sunset Flip, but the Caribbean Cruiser rolls through the attempt…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… And blasts Jenkins with a basement dropkick to the face! Both men lie motionless on the canvas as Red Herrington begins his count:

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

“I tell you what,” adds King, “nobody in the building was more surprised than I was when Wildchild countered into that Sharpshooter! If he knew anything at all about how to properly execute that hold, he may have very well won the match!”

 

 

FIVE!

 

 

SIX!

 

 

“That dropkick to the face bought Wildchild some time,” says Mak, “but will he be able to follow it up, and claim the momentum in this matchup?” Jenkins, the least exhausted of the two, gets to his feet first, and pulls WC up by his shoulder straps, but the Bahama Bomber knocks him back with a right jab to the face! Wildchild follows with a second jab, and a third, but Jenkins cuts him off with a kneelift to the midsection, and then follows with another ferocious European Uppercut that knocks the Champion against the ropes!

 

“Wildchild has been a true competitor in this match, but Spike Jenkins has been able to cut him off at every turn!” says Mak. Jenkins grabs WC by the wrist and whips him across the ring, but the Human Hurricane dives head-first towards the edge of the ring, planting his hands against the canvas as his back bounces off the ropes, and slings back towards the center of the ring! Jenkins anticipates the handspring elbow and runs underneath as WC flips over his head, picking up speed as he bounces off the ropes…

 

 

CRACK!

 

 

… And running full-speed into a shuffling sidekick by the Cruiserweight Champion! The fans rally behind Wildchild as Jenkins rolls out of the ring towards the aisle to gather himself:

 

 

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

 

 

The Bahama Bomber gives the challenger no respite, however, as he runs towards the neutral corner, leaping up to the top turnbuckle, and then flipping out of the ring, twisting in mid-air and crashing into Spike with a corkscrew moonsault!

 

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

 

 

“Sensational corkscrew moonsault by the Wildchild!” exclaims Mak, as WC hammers Spike’s head with rapid-fire right hands! “He’s really starting to assert himself in this match!”

 

“Well, you know that whenever the pace starts to increase that it’s going to favor the Wildchild,” adds King. “Nobody in the SWF is better at wrestling a fast pace than Wildchild… but Spike did an excellent job early of controlling the pace, and if he can just withstand this offensive flurry by Wildchild, he’ll probably be able to do so again!” WC rolls back into the ring ahead of the count; he scrambles to his feet and runs across the ring as Spike climbs back onto the apron…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… And leaps over the top rope, wrapping his arms around the challenger’s waist, and spiking him back down to the arena floor with a Sunset Flip powerbomb to the outside! Referee Herrington is forced to restart his count, as the fans howl with approval:

 

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

 

 

“Bahama Bomb!” shouts Mak. “Wildchild’s letting it all hang out tonight!” WC gets to his feet and strides up the aisle, all the way towards the backstage curtain; as soon as he sees Jenkins getting to his feet, he takes off down the aisle at top speed, leaping into the air as he approaches the ring, and swinging his feet forward as he caves Spike’s chest in with a running dropkick!

 

 

“Shotgun dropkick!” shouts Mak. “Wildchild appears to have completely turned the tables on the challenger!” WC pulls Spike to his feet and leads him over towards the ring, rolling him underneath the bottom rope; he then climbs onto the apron and heads over to the nearby corner, where he climbs up to the top turnbuckle. Wildchild claps his hands repeatedly to get the crowd into a rhythm before springing into action: he leaps from facing the inside of the ring to facing the crowd, and then launches himself backwards to crash into the challenger with a moonsault press!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

Jenkins kicks out at two! Wildchild pulls Spike to his feet and leads him over to a neutral corner, where he backs him against the turnbuckles before straddling the middle ropes and beginning to deliver a ten-count punch!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

THREE!

 

 

FOUR!

 

 

FIVE!

 

 

SIX!

 

 

SEVEN!

 

 

EIGHT!

 

 

NINE!

 

 

TEN!

 

WC hops down from the turnbuckles and grabs Jenkins by the wrist, whipping him across the ring into the opposite corner. He races towards his opponent, leaping off the canvas as he closes in on the corner and twisting in midair as he delivers his patented Blue Crush splash…

 

 

CRACK!

 

 

… But Jenkins surges out of the corner and picks Wildchild out of the air with a devastating Lariat!

 

“What a move!” shrieks Mak, as Jenkins shakes his head to try and clear out the cobwebs.

 

“That lariat would have knocked Wildchild out of his shoes, if he were wearing any!” taunts King. “I told you, Francis, this is Spike Jenkins’ night! He’s not going to be denied!” Jenkins pulls WC to his feet and staggers him with a Roaring Elbow, before hoisting WC onto his shoulders in a fireman’s carry position… but the Champion begins fighting back: he elbows Spike repeatedly in the face, and then wriggles off of Jenkins’ shoulders, but not before locking his ankles around the back of Jenkins’ head, and swinging around suddenly to pull the challenger into a spectacular headscissors, and right into a pinning combination!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THR— NO!

 

 

Wildchild pulls Jenkins to his feet and grabs him by the wrist to whip him across the ring, but Jenkins reverses, holding onto WC’s arm as he slides between the Champion’s legs, and springs to his feet, holding Wildchild in a pumphandle motion before bringing his free arm across WC’s body as he suddenly pops his hips…

 

 

BANG!

 

 

… Driving Wildchild into the canvas with a wrist-clutch exploder suplex!

 

 

“Exploder ’98!” exclaims King. “That’s it! We’ve got a new champion!” Jenkins rolls WC over and applies a cover:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

“No!” cries Francis. “Wildchild got his foot on the rope!”

 

“I can’t believe it!” grumbles King. “This guy’s got more lives than a cat!” Jenkins pulls WC to his feet and winds his arm around in an arm wringer, before ducking underneath it as he lifts Wildchild into the air to deliver a Northern Lights Suplex…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… But the Caribbean Cruiser counters in midair, spiking Jenkins’s head against the canvas with a swinging DDT!

 

“Wildchild with a tremendous counter, that’s why he’s the Cruiserweight Champion, King!” shouts Francis. “But does he have enough left to go for the cover?”

 

“No way!” replies King. As if to make him out to be a liar, WC rolls Jenkins’ body over and applies a lateral press:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

 

NO! Jenkins gets the shoulder up! Wildchild stares at Herrington in disbelief as the referee calmly holds two fingers in the air.

 

“I told you!” screams King. “Wildchild cannot beat Spike Jenkins; this is his night!” Wildchild pulls Jenkins to his feet and whips him across the ring into a neutral corner. He follows in after him and leaps off the canvas as he approaches the corner, twisting in midair as he crashes into Jenkins’s chest with the Blue Crush splash! WC takes a few steps back as Jenkins staggers out of the corner and rushes back towards him, swinging his leg into the air and cracking the challenger in the back of the head with a step-up Enzugiri! WC rolls Jenkins over and hooks the leg for a cover:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THR—

 

 

 

Jenkins kicks out at two! WC gets to his feet and steps out onto the apron, winding his hands above his head as he ascends to the top turnbuckle.

 

“Wildchild’s going up to that high-rent district,” says Mak. “And we know that he loves to follow up after that Blue Crush with the Bird Dropping!” Wildchild gets his feet set on the top turnbuckle, but as he stands up to prepare himself for launch, Jenkins suddenly springs to his feet and rushes over to the corner, leaping up to the top turnbuckle as he grabs WC by the waist…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… And tosses him to the canvas with an overhead belly-to-belly suplex! Jenkins crawls over to WC’s body and applies a cover:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THR— KICKOUT!

 

 

“Oh man!” wheezes Mak. “I thought he had him!”

 

“YOU thought he had him?” asks King incredulously. “How do you think Jenkins feels?” Jenkins pulls WC to his feet and traps him in a double underhook before snatching him off the canvas and driving him back down with a butterfly suplex!

 

“Jenkins has used his suplexes very expertly here tonight,” says Mak, as Jenkins pulls WC to his feet, only to knock him back down with a European Uppercut. “As well as that European Uppercut… And it’s starting to look like he’s regaining control of this match!”

 

“Positively!” affirms King, as Spike delivers a stiff punt kick to WC’s ribs. “He’s slowing the pace back down, he’s making this a striker’s match!” Jenkins pulls Wildchild to his knees, only to kick him twice in the chest, before taking a step back and follow it up with a ferocious kick to the face! Spike applies a cover:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

TH— NO!

 

 

 

 

Wildchild just gets the shoulder up! Spike pulls him to his feet and leads him over towards the corner; Jenkins smashes WC repeatedly in the side of the head with stiff forearm shots, and then follows it up with a brutal European Uppercut that leaves the Champion slumped over in the corner. The fans boo Jenkins as he steps out of the corner and walks across the ring.

 

“The pace of this match is definitely in favor of Spike Jenkins right now,” as Jenkins lowers himself into a crouch in the corner. “And it looks like he’s setting up for that running Yakuza kick in the corner!”

 

“If he hits it,” says King, we’ve got a new Cruiserweight Champion!” Spike charges into the corner and raises his leg up to decapitate Wildchild with a running Yakuza kick…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… But slams his leg painfully into the turnbuckle, hyperextending his knee as Wildchild ducks out of the way! Spike limps out of the corner limping and WC capitalizes immediately, kicking him in the back of his injured knee, and knocking him down!

 

 

RAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

“Spike Jenkins may have just made a critical mistake!” exclaims Mak, as Wildchild delivers an elbowdrop to Spike’s knee. “And now Wildchild is going to work on that injured knee!”

 

“Don’t let it end like this!” cries King. “Come on, Spike, you’ve got to do something!” WC pulls Spike to his feet and lifts him up into a knee-beaker, but the challenger still has the presence of mind to counter, raking Wildchild in the eyes to force him to let go! Jenkins takes full advantage, kicking Wildchild in the midsection to stun him before trapping him in a front facelock…

 

 

BANG!

 

 

… And driving him face-first into the canvas with a DDT!

 

 

“There you go!” cheers King. “That’s how you get back into the game… And, once again, every time Wildchild tries to build some momentum, Spike Jenkins is able to shut him down!” Spike gets to his feet and beckons for Wildchild to rise as he gets down into a menacing Muay Thai stance…

 

“Another big kick coming up!” says Mak. “If he hits this, he’ll have Wildchild at his mercy!” Spike dances back and forth on the balls of his feet as he waits for WC to get back to his feet. Without warning, he thrusts his foot forward to deliver the knockout blow!

 

 

SNAP!

 

 

… But the Bahama Bomber catches the foot out of the air, and wrenches his leg around, ripping Jenkins through the air with a Dragon-screw leg whip!

 

“Counter!” shrieks Mak. “He countered it!” WC quickly scrambles to his feet and bends over, spinning the shin guard around on his leg, and then whipping his arm through the air in a circle, to the delight of the crowd:

 

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

“No, no, no!” pleads King. “Not this!” Wildchild spins Spike’s leg around his, and then brings the other leg up, locking them together before he falls backwards to the mat!

 

 

RAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

“The Figure Four!” exclaims Mak. “It’s said that this move puts pressure on seven different points in the leg! After the injury that Spike’s sustained to his leg, and with the shin guard adding to the effects of the Figure Four, how long will Spike be able to hold on?” Jenkins screams bloody murder from the pain of the submission hold, but is actually close enough to the edge of the ring to be able to grab onto the bottom rope and force a break!

 

“A fortuitous case of ring positioning enables Spike Jenkins to escape what looked like a sure submission!” says Mak, as Spike uses the ropes to pull himself to his feet. Wildchild pulls Jenkins to his feet and grabs him by the wrist, whipping him across the ring; the Caribbean Cruiser wraps his arm around Spike’s throat as he bounces off the ropes to apply a sleeper!

 

“Sleeper!” shouts Mak. “He’s going to go for the knockout!” WC jumps onto Spike’s back and tries to use his weight to force the challenger down, but Jenkins surges desperately backwards towards the nearby corner, crushing Wildchild’s back against the turnbuckles, and forcing a release of the hold! Jenkins takes a step out of the corner and then suddenly flips backwards…

 

 

CRACK!

 

 

… Blasting Wildchild in the top of the head with a bicycle kick!

 

 

“Pelé!” shouts King. “Beautiful Pelé by Spike Jenkins, that came out of nowhere… And, once again, Spike cuts Wildchild attempt at momentum off at the pass!” Spike pulls Wildchild out of the corner and takes him over with a snapmare before delivering another stiff punt kick to the small of WC’s back! He then pushes Wildchild back down to the canvas before leaping into the air and crashing down across the Champion’s sternum with a kneedrop! Spike applies a lateral press:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THREENO!

 

 

“This has been a spectacular match!” says Mak, as Jenkins pulls WC to his feet. “It’s gone back and forth, with Spike Jenkins having a slight edge… And here he is, once again in control!” Spike traps Wildchild in a half-nelson, and then lifts him up off the canvas, only to drop him back-first onto his outstretched thigh with a half-nelson backbreaker! He then pushes Wildchild off his thigh and onto the canvas to go for a cover:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

Wildchild just gets the shoulder up! Jenkins gets to his feet and heads over to the neutral corner, where he unties the top turnbuckle pad and removes it in full view of the referee! He tosses the turnbuckle pad aside and disregards the admonitions of the referee as he returns over towards his opponent.

 

“Not sure what the point of that was,” says Mak, as Herrington picks up the turnbuckle pad and returns it to the corner. “Even if you’re going to cheat, you don’t want to make it quite that blatant!” As Herrington busies himself with re-attaching the turnbuckle pad, however, Spike surreptitiously unwraps some of the tape from his wrist, and wraps it around Wildchild’s throat, choking him out!

 

 

BOOOOOOOOOO!

 

 

“Well, now you know why he removed the turnbuckle pad,” crows King, as Wildchild flails his legs desperately. “That’s a Suicide King move right there! And look at that, he gets rid of the tape before the referee is any the wiser!”

 

“Heads up thinking by Spike Jenkins, I’ll give you that,” concedes Mak. “He looks to have come into this match with a very solid game plan.”

 

“Spike’s game plan has been airtight,” agrees King. “Now he needs to do something big to him, and gamble! Go for that Endwell!” Spike pulls WC to his feet and then hoists him onto his shoulders; this time, he is able to execute his move, however, shrugging the Champion off his shoulders as he lays out, knees raised, to deliver a vicious Gutbuster!

 

“Textbook gutbuster by the challenger,” praises King, as Spike gets to his feet. “And there it is: he just gave the sign for the Endwell!”

 

“If he hits it,” says Mak, “we’ve got a new World Cruiserweight Champion!” Jenkins pulls WC to his feet and traps him in a standing headscissors; he reaches down to pull Wildchild’s arms into a double-underhook, but the Tropical Tumbler reverses, spinning out of the standing headscissors and grapevining his leg with the challengers as he reaches over to hook a side-headlock, before falling backwards to slam Spike’s head into the canvas with a legsweep neckbreaker!

 

 

“Side Bahaman Legsweep!” shouts Mak. “A desperation counter by the Wildchild! But how much does he have left?”

 

“Well, this match has been going on for a while now,” says King. “In fact, it may be the longest match that Wildchild’s ever been in, so how much stamina he has left is a big question!”

 

“No question,” agrees Mak. “We’ve already gone past the length of that thirty-minute Iron Man with Pretzler, which is the longest match that Wildchild’s had to date.” WC beats Jenkins to his feet and races across the ring, picking up speed as he bounces off the ropes and leaping off the canvas, extending his body in midair to crash into Spike with a flying cross-body press! Rather than go for the cover, however, the Human Hurricane quickly gets back to his feet and runs to the ropes, leaping into the air as Jenkins gets back to his feet and hitting another cross-body!

 

“The tempo’s picked up!” shouts Mak, as WC runs to the ropes to hit Spike with a third flying body press! The Champion then scrambles to his feet and runs to the ropes to knock the challenger down yet again!

 

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

“Wildchild’s got it stuck on overdrive!” shouts Mak. “Jenkins doesn’t know whether he’s coming or going!”

 

 

“Well, I guess that answers the questions about Wildchild’s stamina,” says a shocked King, as WC exits to the apron. “I had no idea he had that kind of reserve!” Wildchild climbs up to the top rope and waits for Jenkins to get back to his feet before leaping down into the ring with a missile dropkick to the back of Spike’s head that sends him skidding across the ring! WC scrambles over to the challenger and rolls him over to apply a cover:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

 

 

NO! SPIKE GETS THE SHOULDER UP!

 

 

“Give credit to Spike Jenkins,” says Mak. “He’s got a lot of intestinal fortitude!” WC pulls Jenkins to his feet, but the challenger surprises him by trapping him in a front waistlock and lifting him into the air, only to bring him back down onto his outstretched thigh with a reverse Atomic Drop! As WC clutches the small of his back in pain, Jenkins quickly follows up with a somewhat off-balance roundhouse kick that knocks the Champion to the canvas!

 

“And look at him fire back!” shouts King. “I tell you what, this kid refuses to lose here tonight!” Spike pulls Wildchild to his feet and grabs him by the wrist to whip him across the ring; Jenkins extends his arm to deliver a wicked lariat as Wildchild bounces off the ropes, but the Bahama Bomber ducks underneath his arm while hooking him with his own arm and simultaneously twisting his body underneath and behind the challenger’s!

 

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

“Oh my God!” shouts Mak, as Wildchild hooks the other arm as well, “He’s got him half set up for the Wild Ride… and he pulled that out of nowhere!” Wildchild gets his feet squarely underneath him as he lifts Hollywood onto his shoulders. The Champion looks out into the crowd and releases a primitive growl before he falls backwards…

 

 

BANG!

 

 

… AND PLANTS JENKINS INTO THE CANVAS HEAD-FIRST WITH THE WILD RIDE!

 

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

“Wild Ride!” croaks Mak, as Wildchild rolls Spike over. The frantic Iowans cry out along with Red Herrington as he makes the count:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

“I don’t think he’s gonna get up from it!” groans King.

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

“No way!” agrees Mak.

 

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

 

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

 

The crowd erupts as “Let’s Get Dirty” begins to pump through the speakers once more! Wildchild rolls off of his defeated challenger and onto his knees, breathing heavily as Herrington raises his hand in victory.

 

Funyon rises from his seat at ringside, delivering the title belt to the edge of the ring as he lifts the microphone to his lips. “Here is your winner,” he says, “and STIIIIIL SWF World Cruiserweight Champion… the WIIIIILDCHIIIIILD!”

 

“What a gutsy win by the Wildchild,” says Mak. “Spike Jenkins gave him everything he could handle, but he managed to stay the course, and now he will get to end 2007 pretty much like he started it: as the World Cruiserweight Champion!”

 

“Spike Jenkins had a great strategy for this match,” says King, “and he executed it almost flawlessly… but he made one mistake in the end, and that was all it took. Give him credit, though, for giving Wildchild the toughest challenge he’s had for that belt in years!”

 

“Absolutely!” agrees Mak. “Spike was outstanding tonight, and proved as he has before, that when he brings his A-game, he’s a match for anybody. However, as good as he was tonight, Wildchild was a little bit better… Folks, that’s going to wrap things up for us tonight; we’d like to thank you for joining us for another great night of SWF wrestling!”

 

“And remember,” quips King, “the pleasure was all yours!”

 

“For the King, I’m the Franchise, and we’ll see you in 2008… Happy Holidays, everybody!”

 

 

Wildchild walks over to the corner and climbs to the middle ropes, saluting the crowd once more with his arms above his head, and his title held high…

 

 

As we:

FADE OUT