SWF DUCK AND COVER!

[Toxxic 0]

The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation presents...

DUCK AND COVER



LIVE to DVD from The Arena Mexico, Mexico City!
7pm CST, Wednesday 28th May, 2008!


Yes folks, the SWF is going to Mexico! Why? Because we're short of money, and it's easy to turn a profit when you tour outside your usual area (just ask the WWE). Also, we have a rather special main event which we thought would go down well in the land of high-flying...

CRUISERWEIGHT TITLE
AIR RAID MATCH
Wildchild© vs Annie Eclectic vs The Fabulous Jakey vs 'Hollywood' Spike Jenkins
Wildchild has been Cruiserweight Champion for... 2000 years. Well, maybe not quite that long, but you get the idea. He's been away on a sabbatical (or maybe training new wrestlers up at his wrestling school, we're not sure), but he's come back and now he gets to defend the belt he holds so dear in a very special stipulation against some very special opponents...

Annie Eclectic went to a draw against Taiga Star in their Last Woman Standing Cage Match, but it's time for the Hardcore Queen to suck it up and get back out there. We've seen her violent side, now it's time to see her athletic side. The Fabulous Jakey has beaten Wildchild for the Cruiserweight strap before - will he be able to sneak his way to the title again? And how about Spike Jenkins? He beat SIN but came up short against World Champion the Insane Luchador, so here's a chance to make things right and get back on track.

Rules: The Cruiserweight Title is suspended above the ring on a metal structure that forms an 'x'. A rough idea can be garnered from this amateur demonstration, although you should replace the six-sided ring with our ground-breaking four-sided one, and remove the losers you see in the photo:

The first wrestler to unhook the belt and drop to the mat with it takes it home and came make sweet, sweet love to it if he or she so desires. Ladders are most definitely NOT allowed, at least to climb up to the belt with. You can hit other competitors with them all you want.
Word Limit: Go crazy, people.
Send To: Toxxic. I summoned the demon, I shall slay it.

(important note to those of you who care about such things - winning the Cruiserweight Title will not necessarily prevent you from being considered for the World Title, if you want to try and hold both at the same time. But take it from me, it's a drain)



NON-TITLE MATCH
Insane Luchador© vs Tod James Stewart
What the hell has got into Looch? He destroyed the fed on the way to the belt, took it from Michael Alexander's limp hand, and then beat up Spike Jenkins for good measure. We've started to run out of fresh people to throw at him... but not quite yet. Step up, the former Tod deKindes! Fresh from a series of three matches against the Norsemen, Tod might have a tag partner now but it's in singles competition that he'll be earning his pay in Mexico City (against the luchador who isn't masked and isn't from Mexico).

Rules: Standard singles. Hell, we had to give TJS a chance.
Word Limit: 5500
Send To: King Cucaracha



MEXICO CITY SIX-MAN TAG
Dance Dance Dragon, Ced Ordonez and Johnathan Clarke vs TKO & Chris Card
You knew it was coming. TKO and Chris Card have been beating up anyone they come across, be it win lose or draw, including twice on Dance Dance Dragon. Now we've got a match where Triple D teams up with fellow Dance Dance Revolutionary Ced Ordonez and Johnathan Clarke, who were the tag team to first feel the brunt of the newly-returned TKO's cheating. How did Dragon do this? Did he boogie to 'All Together Now' by The Farm? I have no idea. Regardless, it's the first six-man tag in some time in the SWF, and hopefully it'll be a good one.

Rules: One man in the ring at once, tagging in and out can be done by leaving the ring, since we're in Mexico. (KC: Pretty sure that's not compulsory in lucha-libre, just optional.)
Word Limit: 7000
Send To: Dace59. Sorry Dace.



Doctor Pirata vs S.I.N.
S.I.N. was on the losing side against TKO last show, courtesy of a pepper spray from Natasha. Now he faces Doctor Pirata, who was very much on the winning side when he beat the crap out of Olaf Andersen. It's the street thug against... well, your guess is as good as mine. I suppose, a piratical doctor. Or possibly a pirate with medical leanings. Either way, this should be one to watch.

Rules: Standard Singles
Word Limit: 5000
Send To: King Cucaracha



Munich vs MANSON
Munich has returned! He dispatched Arne Andersen reasonably quickly at Damaged Doors and is all set for his next challenge... unfortunately for him, his next challenge is the feared MANSON, back from eating babies' heads in China (or something) and ready to rumble! MANSON was a World Title contender earlier this year - can he step back into form, or will Munich pull an upset and roll up the card?

Rules: Standard Singles
Word Limit: 4500 (can be raised if you guys feel like it, just let me know if you come to an agreement)
Send To: Toxxic



Luke Breslin vs 'The Paladin' Chance Silver'
Leo Breslin's baby brother has joined the fed! Cue Chance Silver, who probably views him as a heretical sinner for some reason. These religious hardliners, always the same. Fight!

Rules: Standard Singles
Word Limit: Whatever Drew can be bothered to write.
Send To: Toxxic


(send all marked matches, promos etc to Toxxic)

[Toxxic 0]

Explosions rock The Mexico Arena as pyrotechnics light the darkened arena. Fans pack the arena and scream in excitement as introductory music fades and lights return.

 

“Damas y senores, bienvenidos!” Funyon announces in the center of the ring. “El SWF orgullosamente presenta… Esquivar y Cubrir!”

 

His free hand waves through the air in a gesture of invitation and welcome. A righteous guitar tune hits the speakers, and a new video plays on the screen above the stage. “Thunderstruck” by ACDC gets the crowd moving, but only a handful of spectators cheer as an unfamiliar face emerges onto center stage, hopping back and forth from leg to leg and clapping his hands over his head.

 

“Hola!” says Suicide King to SWF’s viewers. “We are in Mexico City, of all places, and I have a satchel of fireworks to smuggle across the border after this show!”

 

Spotlights zip across the audience and stop at random places each time “Thunder!” is screamed in Luke Breslin’s intro music. He moves back and forth down the ramp, high-fiving fans that might now know him, but are excited to touch an SWF wrestler.

 

“You might be happy to return home with your booty, but we have one hell of a show for our fans first,” says Mak Francis. “Our card is chockfull with stellar matches that are sure to keep our fans here at the Mexico Arena on their feet all night!”

 

“As long as they’re here for the next few hours and not crossing the border, a few hundred U.S. jobs should stay intact,” King notes. “And yeah, Mak, we’ve got a good show for our Mexican friends. They’re going to see a brutal high-flying contest between four speedy competitors for the Cruiserweight Title. And they’ll see Insane Luchador and Tod James Stewart fight in what has evolved into something much more than a one-on-one bout.”

 

“An exciting card indeed, King!”

 

“La lucha siguiente es programada para una caída,” Funyon begins. “Introducción primero, pesando 256 libras, de Philadelphia… Luuuuuke… BRESLIN!”

 

Luke is in the ring by this time, hopping around on the canvas and staying pumped as his music fades and a melancholic tune strikes the crowd into near silence. A figure emerges onto stage and walks deliberately down the ramp.

 

“But before we get to the interesting matches, we need to give these two young bucks some airtime,” King mentions. “We’ve got a former wrestler’s kid brother in the ring already, and making his way down the ramp entirely too slowly is a religious zealot who’s really making Mexico feel like hell.”

 

“Y su opositor, pesando 240 libras, de… uhh… El Borde de Realidad… “El Paladin” Chaaaaance SILVEEEER!”

 

“I’m amazed to see two-time IGNJL Television Champion Leo Breslin’s younger brother in the ring,” Mak says.

 

“I’m amazed Funyon is speaking Spanish,” King says. “And proficiently, to boot.”

 

“Leo’s time was years ago, but if memory serves correctly, he was a hearty competitor. And his brother looks excited and eager to make his own impact on the federation,” Mak says.

 

“Well, if this Chance Silver sucks as much life out of Breslin as he has out of the arena, he’ll be fighting Maddox’s deflated blow-up doll,” King says. “I’m happy to see another Breslin in the ring, but this Silver character looks like he can defuse these amateur sparks.”

 

“Both of these wrestlers are new to our roster. That does make them amateurs, but it also makes them worthy competitors,” Mak says as Chance ascends the final step and walks onto the ring apron before entering through the ropes. “The SWF only accepts true potential. And we’ll see which one of these fellows takes the first big step in his wrestling career.”

 

Funyon is at his seat by the announcer’s table and Luke Breslin has tossed his shirt to the crowd. Chance Silver pulls his exotic silver hair back into a ponytail before letting it drop onto his back and out of his face. He stands still as Luke still hops around in his corner.

 

*ding ding ding*

 

The two converge in the center of the ring and engage in a collar-and-elbow tie-up. “Duck and Cover is off and running!” Mak says.

 

“That’s… a complete conundrum of a statement,” King replies. “Nonetheless, these two seem pretty evenly matched, stature-wise.”

 

Chance breaks the hold and spins around, his stomach against Luke’s back and his arms around his waist. Luke is lifted slightly off his feet, but Chance is unable to get him all the way over as Luke uses his downward momentum to catch Chance’s arm in a quick armdrag.

 

“Chance is quick to get up after that one, and they lock up again…” Mak notes. “He manages to spin around Luke… gets a sleeper locked in.”

 

Luke thrashes his limbs, staying active, trying to break Chance’s grip. The resistance is too great, and Chance gives a strong shove that sends Luke into the ropes. He bounces back, ducks under Chance’s extended arm, springs off the opposite ropes, and smashes his shoulder into Chance’s midsection with a spear that sends him onto his back. Luke stands up and circles his downed opponent.

 

“A strong spear from Luke! He exploded off those ropes and I think surprised Chance,” Mak says.

 

“Luke seems to be stalking,” King says as Luke takes some steps backwards, hits the ropes and runs a few steps. He hops into the air. “A knee into Chance’s head! Pretty vicious offensive…”

 

“Chance is not in a good place right now. A strong spear to the gut, a heavy knee to the head,” Mak says. “Two moves and Luke is already at an advantage. He pulls Chance up… tosses him to a corner. Chance is limp against the turnbuckle.”

 

Luke heads to the opposite turnbuckle. He charges across the ring, jumps into the air and sends his legs between the second and top ropes, his arm delivering a clothesline at top speed into Chance’s chest. The high impact makes Chance even limper. Luke doesn’t completely remove himself from the ropes, but keeps his feet on the middle one and stands above Chance.

 

“Luke is all over Chance and…” Mak stops short. “Strong punches to the head! And the crowd counts…”

 

“…FOUR! FIVE! SIX! SEVEN! EIGHT! NINE! TEN!”

 

Mak continues, “Luke hops down. Chance stumbles away from the corner.”

 

“As pummeled as he’s been, I think he still realizes that he needs to get out of that area,” says King. “And Luke is in a corner again… and charging… Chance falls… drop toe hold!”

 

“And Luke’s face hits that bottom turnbuckle! That looked brutal!” Mak screams.

 

Luke rolls around the canvas, his hands over his face, and Chance remains down after tripping up his opponent. Referee Sexton Hardcastle begins a count as the competitors hurry to recover.

 

“They’re both determined competitors…” Mak says. “It’s still early in this match and both men are near their feet at four. Chance sizes up Luke… and a fist to the head… another one… Breslin is struggling to stay on his feet right now. I’m sure he’s still a bit dazed.”

 

“Chance with a chest chop that knocks Luke against the ropes…” King says. “And he falls into him… whips Luke across the ring...”

 

Luke bounces off the ropes and a waiting Chance offers Luke an extended arm to duck under. With new momentum, Luke bounces again and catches Chance in a bulldog before he has time to spin around.

 

“Luke’s got a nice chunk of that silver hair in his hand as he pulls Chance off the ground,” Mak says. “He stands his opponent up… winds up… European uppercut! Chance is reeling!”

 

“The second one puts him on his back again. Luke is… heading onto the apron?” King asks. “Yes, he’s climbing the turnbuckles!”

 

His first time atop an SWF turnbuckle sends him flying a short distance, arms spanned outward, head aimed directly for Chance’s sternum. Silver hair spins as Chance’s body zips out of harm’s way, Luke descending to the canvas. His body makes a thud, his face and chest dropping like bricks. The crowd offers some commotion as Luke lies near motionless. Chance is fluid in his recovery. His possum playing soon turns into a camel clutch, his silver strands hanging, covering both side of his face as his hands find a grip under Luke’s chin.

 

“Chance’s ass is placed firmly on Luke’s back, and he is sparing no mercy in the delivery of this camel clutch!” King notes.

 

Mak picks up, “Chance has the right idea here, keeping the majority of his weight on Luke’s back to prevent him from moving, but still pulling upward, cranking that neck backwards and causing the pain that you can very clearly see in Luke’s reddening face.”

 

“Hardcastle is down on the mat, face-to-face with Luke, asking for that submission,” says King.

 

“Luke is trying to squirm, but Chance maintains his center of balance,” Mak adds.

 

Luke shakes his head each time the referee asks him to submit. His face shows pain, but anger also seems to be seething. He kicks his legs up, his feet hitting the canvas almost rhythmically. Fingers try to dig between the Paladin’s hands and Luke’s neck. The grip is tight, but Luke’s resilience and focus help him loosen the hold enough for Chance to relent. He steps off Luke but not before grabbing his hair and pushing his face into the mat with a barbarous roar of aggression.

 

“Chance breaks the hold voluntarily,” King says. “But he definitely sucked a lot of energy out of Luke. And that face plant didn’t help, either. It was rough. I like this guy.”

 

“Chance definitely seems frustrated that Luke didn’t submit,” Mak agrees.

 

The Paladin pulls Luke to his feet, pushing him into a corner, propping him up. Chance moves to the opposite corner, staring at Luke with steel eyes before zooming across the ring and lifting his left, sending a thunderous yakuza kick into Luke’s skull with another barbarous wail. Chance pulls away and Luke falls immediately to the mat and rolls onto his back.

 

“WOW!” King screams. “That yakuza kick was devastating! Chance is pumping his arms around like he just won the match. And he probably will.”

 

“But he’s not going for a pin,” Mak says. “He’s actually pulling Luke out a few feet from the corner and positioning him in a way that would be advantageous to…”

 

“Top turnbuckle trouble!” King finishes giddily.

 

“Chance gets up there quickly, quicker than Luke did…” Mak notes.

 

Chance looks to his left and right, observing the crowd, most of which is on its feet awaiting the leap. His back faces Luke. Chance finally rests his eyes on an empty void in front of him, a grin emerging on his previously cold face. He is silent during this attack. He springs upwards, spinning in the air and getting great height and distance. A full moonsault and amazing accuracy allow him to drop a leg right over Luke, the thigh meeting the throat in an impact that causes the crowd to scream and cheer.

 

“Another high impact move from Chance, and this time it was airborne!” Mak says.

 

“That was impressive! This kid’s pretty rounded!” King says. “And he’s going for this match’s first pin!”

 

Sexton falls to the mat next to Luke’s shoulders. Chance hooks the leg. ONE! TWO! Luke convulses to lift, and Chance gets to his knees in shock. He grabs Luke by the hair with one hand, under the shoulder with the other. Luke’s near-broken body can barely stay up, but Chance pushes him against the ropes and again propels his opponent.

 

“Luke hooks the ropes and idles himself!” King says. “And Chance’s superkick meets dead air.”

 

Luke leans back against the ropes with all his weight and gets his own propulsion, meeting Chance in the center of the ring, his hands catching his neck. Luke spins both men around and delivering a lightning-quick spinning neckbreaker. Both men remain on the ground, Luke nearly still save some moving limbs. Chance’s previous momentum is not fully deterred as he gets to his hands and knees.

 

“That was a sudden move,” King says. “This kid’s still got some fight in him.”

 

“Well he better get up faster if he wants to capitalize. Chance is already on his feet,” Mak notes as Chance erects himself. “Luke is on all fours. Chance is coming for him again.”

 

Just as Chance gets into Luke’s proximity, the previously drained wrestler stands, putting his shoulder to Chance’s midsection, wrapping his arms around and locking his hands while simultaneously lifting him. The suddenness catches Chance off-guard as Luke’s spinebuster sends him crashing onto the mat.

 

“Another quick, in-your-face move from Breslin when we really weren’t expecting it!” Mak says. “And Chance is on his side, holding his back.”

 

“Now Luke is on his feet, pacing the ring, keeping his eyes on Chance,” King notes. “Was this kid faking all along?”

 

“I wouldn’t say he was faking. I think he was in pain. Hell, still probably is,” Mak says. “But he was waiting for the right times to strike, and he did so beautifully.”

 

Luke grabs Chance by the hair and gets him to his feet. He snakes his arms under Chance’s and his hands find one another behind Chance’s neck, pushing his head forward in a well-applied full nelson. Luke squares up in the center of the ring and bends himself before erecting himself, lifting Chance off his feet, releasing the hold at the apex of height. Luke leaves one arm in the air, his hand finding Chance’s chest during his descent and shoving him down onto the canvas, Chance’s back once again shaking the ring and bringing the crowd to cheer.

 

“That was a methodical, powerful, deliberate move!” Mak says. “The kind of move that any wrester would go for a pinfall after.”

 

“Good guess, Mak,” King says. “Luke drops onto Chance. Sexton is down…”

 

ONE! TWO! TH—Chance gets a shoulder up! Sexton follows Luke to his feet and watches the young man move towards the turnbuckle. He climbs to the top again, but bends his knees and perches atop the ring like a gargoyle. Chance is slow to get up, somewhat disoriented, with his “back to his haunting opponent.

 

“What’s with the hold up!?” King begs.

 

“Luke is watching… waiting… anticipating…” Mak says. “Chance is on his feet, turns on one foot and… Luke goes flying!”

 

“A clothesline from the top rope!” King yells.

 

“Luke didn’t get much height, but he got distance and propulsion, and like a missile driving into a bunker, Luke’s arm just drove through Chance and put him back on the mat!” Mak says.

 

Luke scurries to find his fallen opponent and goes for another cover. ONE! Sexton smacks the canvas. TWO! The crowd gets into it. THR—Chance’s shoulder shoots up again. Luke ignores any frustration he might have and gets Chance to his feet without hesitation. He whips Chance into the ropes and waits for him to return, catching an arm between Chance’s legs and flipping him over and around with a snap powerslam.

 

“That back is taking a beating!” Mak announces.

 

“So is our ring…” King jokes. “I’m slightly impressed by the fight these two men are putting up when absolutely nothing is on the line and my sights are still set on later matches.”

 

“There is more than nothing on the line, King. These men are out to set a first impression on us, our fans, our bosses, and the lockerroom,” Mak defends. “They’re both doing a damn good job, and whoever gets Hardcastle’s hand to the canvas a third time is going to make one hell of an impression.”

 

Luke stays on top of Chance. ONE! TWO! T—Chance kicks out again. Luke stands and backs into the ropes, running towards Chance and jumping into the air, bending his legs so his knee juts downward, aimed directly for Chance. But Chance moves. Luke doesn’t have the time to brace himself, and his knee hits the canvas.

 

“That’s not something Luke needs right now. He really had the momentum here,” Mak says.

 

“Luke is favoring that knee as he gets up,” King adds. “I see a slight limp.”

 

“And naturally so,” Mak says. “But he goes right for Chance again, getting him to his feet.”

 

Chance gets a fist to Luke’s gut, causing him to bend over a bit. He delivers another one, and Luke releases his grip. A flurry of punches to the midsection keeps Luke disoriented on his feet. Chance gets in an offensive stance and delivers a roundhouse kick to Luke’s ribs. Luke is fully bent now, but Chance doesn’t relent. He deliver a low roundhouse kick, this time to the knee Luke used to break his fall on the canvas.

 

“Chance is being methodical now,” Mak says. “And it knocks Luke to the ground.”

 

“What’s he going for here. He’s got Luke’s feet in his hands…” King starts. “This’ll be bad for the knee! A sharpshooter!”

 

Luke’s legs are locked in position and Chance turns him over onto his stomach, pulling back on the legs and letting Luke writhe in pain beneath him. Sexton is behind the calculating Chance, whose face is one of excitement, pleasure knowing that he is inflicting such pain. Luke suffers through Chance putting more and more pressure on his aching joints. He listens to the mixed crowd, looks at Sexton Hardcastle as he asks him the same question over and over. He closes his eyes, he puts up a wall.

 

“Luke must be in so much pain! This sharpshooter is executed near-perfect,” King notes.

 

“But he’s not showing much of anything. He’s not screaming, he’s not begging, he’s not submitting!” Mak commends. “He’s… focused. He’s moving, inching!”

 

Luke lets his arms slowly pull himself and the extra weight closer and closer to salvation. He is less than a foot from the bottom rope, and his right hand stretches to its fullest extent as his left hand pushes against the mat and his entire body tries to loosen. Chance hears the crowd’s commotion increase, and he begins screaming, yelling at the crowd, scolding Luke.

 

“TAP, you sniveling sinner! Submit to the Paladin Silver! GAAAAHHHH!!!”

 

Chance pulls back with all his might, and his scream is matched by a triumphant yell from Luke as he makes one final attempt, getting just enough of his fingers around the rope to grip it, just enough for Sexton to get off the ground and move around to Chance. “He’s got the rope, the rope! Let him go! Let go, Silver!”

 

“Luke made it to the ropes, and the crowd applauds his resilience!” Mak says. “But Chance is none too happy and…

 

Chance releases, but holds onto one foot. He puts both hands around it and lifts the foot, consequently lifting the entire bottom half of Luke’s body before throwing the foot down. All of Chance’s strength sends Luke already damaged knee to the mat with even greater force than it’s landed with before.

 

“…that was heartless!” Mak finishes. “Chance has every right to be upset. Some wrestlers would have tapped out. But Luke made it to the ropes, and more power to him!”

 

“This isn’t tag on the playground, Mak,” King interrupts. “There is no base, no safe haven. Chance released the hold as he should, and then he delivered more pain! Good for him!”

 

Chance grabs Luke and gets him to his feet, facing him. He sets up for a suplex, but adds an extra offensive when he hooks Luke’s bad leg with his free arm. Chance heaves him up and over with a fisherman’s suplex, locking his hands and waiting for the three-count. ONE! TWO! TH—

 

“Luke escapes! He is aware of his position right now, and I’m sure he’s not enjoying it,” Mak says. “He’s clutching that knee and Chance is giving him no… chance… to recover. What an annoying name. Chance pulls him up and… gets the head between his legs.”

 

“That’s where it usually takes place, yes,” King says. “A… powerbomb..?

 

Luke tries his hardest to stand back up and lift Chance with him. But the Paladin smashes his forearm into Luke’s back, putting him on one knee. He gets him back onto his feet and pulls his arms around to lock under Luke. Luke gives one heaving attempt, and takes Chance off his feet. Luke holds him in place, holding his thighs to keep him from falling off. Luke’s quivering knee forces him to deliver the move immediately. The Alabama slam plants Chance on his back.

 

“Ouch!” King yells. “Luke falls onto Chance in a heap. Barely a pin here…” ONE!

 

“But a pin nonetheless,” Mak says. TWO! THR—

 

Chance kicks out and Luke rolls off him. The two men are on their backs beside each other as Sexton returns to his feet and begins a ten-count. He’s at four when the two start moving… six when they’re on their hands and knees… eight as they clumsily stand and fall into each other’s neck-and-collar tie up.

 

“Chance breaks away, delivers a punch,” Mak says. “And Luke gets one right back… Chance again… back and forth!”

 

“They are just slugging away!” King says.

 

Luke falls into Chance, but not out of exhaustion. He grabs Chance’s arm and whips him into the ropes. Chance returns to meet a boot to the gut, and he doubles over as Luke turns around and pulls his hands over his right shoulder to grab Chance’s head. Before Luke can deliver, Chance shoves him from behind into the ropes.

 

“Luke went for it there, but Chance got him away,” Mak says.

 

“And Luke goes into the ropes front-first, stumbles backwards…” King begins. “Chance locks around his waist and… German suplex! A beautiful one!”

 

Chance slowly crawls over to Luke, who ended up on his stomach after rolling. The Paladin turns him onto his back and goes for a cover. ONE! TWO! TH—Luke kicks out and Chance brings him to his feet.

 

“Chance looks pretty ticked off,” Mak observes.

 

“And rightfully so,” King adds. “This damn Breslin won’t go down, and… oh, Christ.”

 

“Chance has just lifted Luke into a reverse crucifix and… this cannot end well for Luke!”

 

Luke is suspended in the air, wiggling his legs and arms, making it difficult for Chance to stay fully balanced. His missteps and inability to square up give Luke the chance to slide out of the potentially devastating move. Chance yells out of anger and turns to swing at Luke with a wild hook. Luke ducks quickly, stands at full height, and delivers another boot to Chance’s midsection. Chance doubles over, Luke spins around with a sudden surge and catches Chance’s head. Luke drops down onto his rear and Chance’s face slams into Luke’s thick, solid shoulder.

 

“A beautiful stunner from Luke Breslin!” Mak yells as Chance bounces off the shoulder and falls in a flash onto his back. Luke beats his chest as he takes the few steps needed before he can fall onto Chance and hook the leg.

 

ONE! TWO! THREE! Sexton’s hand hits the mat a third time and the referee stands to call for the bell. It is rung, and Funyon stands. “The winner of this match… LEOOOO… BREEEESSSSLIIIINNN!”

 

“This crowd is cheering and I’m happy for young Breslin. He really proved himself here, and he is soaking it up,” Mak says.

 

“Let’s just hope it doesn’t get to his head. It was a solid match, but he only beat a bishop’s BUTT buddy,” King adds. “Where’s he headed?”

 

Luke hops onto the apron and to the mats below, walking over to Funyon and asking for his microphone. Funyon obliges, and Luke rolls back into the ring, getting to his feet and standing over Chance. The Paladin is starting to move around on the canvas, holding his head and looking bewildered. Luke puts the microphone to his mouth and watches his first opponent stare up at him with disdaining eyes.

 

“You, Chance Silver… You’ve been THUNDERSTRUCK!” Luke yells.

 

ACDC’s “Thunderstruck” hits the loudspeakers and the crowd yells and applauds. Luke tosses the microphone out of the ring, where Funyon fumbles it a few times before finally seizing it in his hands.

 

“I’m not sure many of our fans here understood what Luke Breslin just said, but I know everyone watching heard him loud and clear,” Mak says. “We’ve got a bright new star in our sky, and he’s already struck one victim.”

 

“Excellent,” King says dryly. “But Luke has left the arena Chance is stumbling out of the ring. Let’s take a short break before we see M & M duke it out from the—”

 

“We’ve got a camera backstage and we’re cutting to it for a moment, King,” Mak informs him as the action fades from the arena…

[Toxxic 0]

The previous match produces a worn and sweaty Luke Breslin, but the smile on his face is evidence of his win. He walks down the thin, dark corridor until finally reaching a much larger and brighter room. A familiar face meets him and he is embraced, his hair tousled by his older brother before him.

 

“Dude, you just won your first match! And it was a damn good one, too!” Leo Breslin says emphatically. “Way to go, bro!”

 

“Thanks, Leo,” Luke says with short breath. “That was such a rush. Those fans are amazing.”

 

“You’re telling me. They really liked you,” Leo says as he turns his head and catches an approaching Ben Hardy. “And check this out!”

 

Ben steps between the two men and gives Luke a smile. “A few quick questions, Luke. Your brother here is a former wrestler under the company. Will you surpass his accolades?”

 

Luke and Leo exchange looks and chuckle at the question. Luke begins, “Well, Leo here was one hell of a wrestler. But I’m not just a Breslin. I’m Luke Breslin. I’m my own man, much like Leo was his own man. And I don’t want to be compared to him. But if I have to be… then yes, I will surpass his accomplishments.”

 

The brothers share a laugh and Ben brings the microphone back to his mouth. “What’s your next order of business? Anyone in the crosshairs?”

 

“I’ve barely settled down here, Ben,” Luke says. “I haven’t even met half the roster, and I’m not sure I can name everyone involved in tonight’s later matches. But I can imagine my win here tonight will get me another match at the next show, and I’ll take on whatever challenges the boss men throw at me. That’s the Breslin way.”

 

“Excellent to hear you’ll be sticking around, Luke,” Ben says. “Congratulations on tonight’s win and good—” Ben stops short when a swinging metal door behind him is shoved open. Its speed causes it to slam against the wall with an echoing thud.

 

Through the threshold emerges Manson, his worn cloak enveloping his large frame, its bottom nearly reaching the floor. His metal half-mask and long, stringy hair conceal his face, but his glare is unavoidable. He walks with a purpose across the room in which the Breslin brothers and Ben Hardy stand. His eyes remain on the trio, who view him with equal curiosity. Finally, Manson’s fierce look focuses on Luke. The large man stops just before entering the small corridor Luke had just exited. He spins his head in a circle, rotating his neck until he’s satisfied by the series of crack. His gaze returns to Luke before letting out a grunt, one of assumed disapproval, and he ends his business by disappearing into the darkness before his cue into The Mexico Arena. His chains rattle slightly and the glint of the metal bat on his back fades.

 

“Who the hell was that?” Luke asks.

 

“Manson,” answers Ben Hardy. “He’s been around…”

 

“Yup. I remember him from the Junior Leagues,” Leo offers. “Was a freaky character then… And I can see he hasn’t changed much. Come on, bro, let’s get to celebrating.”

 

Luke shrugs off the awkward exchange of looks and walks off with his brother, leaving Ben Hardy alone as the scene fades to black.

[Toxxic 0]

*DING DING DING*

 

Francis: Welcome back to Duck and Cover! We join this match already in action. Tonight, it’s Manson facing off with Munich!

 

King: Manson’s entrance has to be the best entrance in wrestling today. If only our viewers came to the great live shows that the SWF puts forth on a regular basis.

 

Francis: It is quite the shame King that our fans don’t call 1800-GET-SWFD. There are plenty of good seats for our upcoming shows available.

 

Manson and Munich circle the ring for a moment before engaging in a quick lock up. The two wrestlers’s strain and grasp each other, each trying to gain the advantage. The bigger man, Munich, gains the advantage, and walks Manson into a nearby corner. Mathew Kivell quickly steps in to break up the tie up. Munich, after a moment, obeys the orders, and then relinquishes his hold. Manson quickly comes to, and The God Machine leans forward and drives the soul of his boot into Munich’s oft-injured right leg. The implanted Texan winces, and hobbles towards the center of the ring. Munich turns around just in time to find Manson rushing at him with an arm raised. The Mexico City crowd then groans, as Munich is floored to the canvas with a Flashing Elbow from Manson! The Colorado native leaps on top of Munich for the quick cover. Kivell is quickly on top of the action.

 

ONE!

TWO!!

THR-NO!!!

 

Francis: What a quick start from Manson, King. He is really looking to end this match early over the just returning Munich.

 

King: This is to be expected. Munich doesn’t have the stamina, or is still shaking off the ring-rust from SWF competition.

 

Francis: A great strategy by Manson to, by attacking the leg right at the get go.

 

After a quick glance at the referee, Manson quickly straddles the torso of Munich, and starts to rain down numerous and multiplying punches to Munich’s face. The bigger man raises his elbows to the air, trying to absorb the contact. Kivell, getting quite the workout at this early stage in the match, counts up to five. Manson releases Munich at four. The Savage Messiah hops to his feet to get into the face of the head referee of the SWF. Meanwhile, Munich, already in a crumpled heap, rolls over to his quaky hands and knees. Onlookers can already see a small assortment of crimson colored droplets littering the canvas.

 

Francis: I have never seen Munich look this bad before, King! He has been cut, and starting to leak some of his precious bodily fluids onto the mat.

 

King: This is more dangerous than you might believe. We ARE in Mexico City.

 

Francis: What does that mean?

 

King: I think it speaks for itself. What’s worse? Being cut in New York or Mexico City?

 

Francis: …Mexico City.

 

King: Hah.

 

After getting tired of his conversation of his conversation with Kivell, Manson once again sets his sights on his opponent, still shaky on his hands and knees. Manson rushes forward, checks the wind, checks the field conditions, and delivers a vicious strike to the ribs of Munich, sending the older man tumbling under the bottom rope and to the outside. Manson smiles in approval, while the ever-bloody Munich cradles his ribs in agony on the outside. Kivell starts his ten count as Manson slides out of the ring and advances to Munich. Grabbing Munich by a handful of hair, he brings him back up to his and quickly starts to walk him over to the nearby unforgiving steel stairs. Manson, in one quick movement, sticks a leg out in front of Munich, while thrusting the man’s head downward. Munich stumbles, and goes face-first into the steel steps. The nearby fans groan in obvious discomfort.

 

Francis: Oh my. Manson has completely destroyed Munich on those steel stairs. If this keeps up, we may remember a new staple of bloody wrestling history. The blood covered mustache!

 

King: Manson could roll that guy back into the ring right now, and I don’t think that Munich could kick out. The sad part is that there have only been two wrestling moves this entire match.

 

Francis: Look at the look in Manson’s eyes, King!

 

Manson, sensing the opportunity to makes this company’s highlights video for months to come, quickly approaches the timekeeper, and throws the meek man to the side. The Raging Bull quickly retrieves the steel chair from this area and folds it up. Manson stalks back towards Munich and readies the chair over his head, all the while staring at Mathew Kivell, who wags his finger and threatens disqualification from the inside of the ring. Munich reaches with a bloody hand up to the steel stairs and lifts himself back to his knees.

 

*THWACK!*

 

*DINGDINGDING*

 

*THWACK*

 

*THWACK*

 

Munich arches his back in pain as the victor, but he sure feels like the loser, as he is the recipient of three harsh chair shots to his back. The blood from his forehead forms a fall from his mustache as he slowly turns around towards Manson, who readies perhaps his last chair shot.

 

*THWACK!!!*

 

The steel chair warps ands bends around the head of Munich, and everything goes dark as the veteran falls to the mat. His face bounces off of the mat, and then finds it’s resting places centimeters to the right, leaving a smudge of blood on the way.

 

Francis: This has gotten terribly out of hand!! Munich is the victor of this match!

 

King: Manson is the victor!! Just ask Munich!

 

A flood of referees and officials flood the ringside area, and quickly form a wall between Manson and Munich, who is quickly attended to by the SWF trainer, Skip McGraw. Manson, satisfied at what he has accomplishes tonight, drops the demented steel chair, and rolls back into the ring. He rises to his feet inside the ring, looks for acknowledgement from the fans and leaves the ring. He received many Spanish insults. He quickly leaves the arena.

 

The program fades into commercial as Munich is quickly attended to on the floor. He sits on the seat of his pants after a little while, and starts to answers the questions of those working on him.

 

 

--------------------

[Toxxic 0]

Men battle in ring

Swift submission victory

Pirata by choke

[Toxxic 0]

Funyon, mic in hand begins the introductions to the next match as the cameras pan around the arena:

 

“The following contest is scheduled for one fall with lucha libre tag rules in effect.” The arena lights dim and the into to “Hung Up” by Madonna sounds out. As the beat picks up the entrance ramp is filled with dancers, multicoloured strobes light the entrance area and holograms of arrows begin flowing up the entrance ramp. Funyon continues, “Introducing first, accompanied by Daizie, The Extreme Solution JOOOOOOOOOOOONATHOOOOOON CLAAAAAAAAAAARKE!!” Clarke walks out with a slight look of amusement on his face for the high energy music, then steps to one side of the ramp to allow his tag partners a little room.

 

“And his tag team partners, from the High Score Table... CED OOOOOOOOOOORDOOOOOOOONEZ and DAAAAAAAANCE DAAAAAANCE DRAAAAAAAGON!!” shouts Funyon as the Bemani Superstars dance their way down the entrance ramp, hitting every arrow that flies past them as they go.

 

“Every little thing that you say or do

I'm hung up

I'm hung up on you...”

 

“Here we have some high energy wrestlers, King,” calls Mak Francis, “and the crowd are really getting into this threesome.”

 

“What do these idiots know, Francis?” queries King rhetorically, “and what has rhythm got to do with professional wrestling anyways?”

 

The lights dim again and a much more sinister atmosphere is cut across the entrance area as the mulitcoloured strobes of the Bemani team are replaced with the gothic colours of TKO. The pounding beat of “Tribe” starts up across the arena, but instead of the Japanese chanting, the intro is overlaid with assorted quotes from Fight Club...

 

“You are not a beautiful or unique snowflake…”

 

TKO and Chris Card walk out slowly, flanked as always by the beautiful Natasha.

 

“I felt like destroying something beautiful…”

 

KOJI as always has some shouted insults in broken English for the crowd .

 

“I am smart, capable and most importantly I am free in all the ways you are not…”

 

“And their opponents, accompanied by Natasha...”

 

“This is your life and it's ending one minute at a time…”

 

“KOJI and TORU, TEEEE KAAAAY OOOOH and Technical Perfection CHRIIIIIIIIIIS CAAAAAAAAAARD!”

 

“TRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIBE, WHY DON'T YOU STRIKE, JUSTIFY YOUR MIND?”

 

As the main hook hits, the Chris Card Management Service team slides under the ring ropes, Card stopping to part the ropes for Natasha. KOJI swings his leg around in a crescent kick to encourage Clarke to back off as the foursome pose in the centre of the ring. “Chris Card and his merry bunch of misfits,” chuckles King. “It's hard to dislike TKO and their grasp of solid wrestling tactics.”

 

“You're referring to their cheating, King?” questions Mak.

 

“That's solid wrestling tactics, Francis,” responds King. Referee Anthony Michael Hall calls for the bell and the match is set underway.

 

*DING-DING-DING!*

 

Dance Dance Dragon walks confidently to the centre of the ring and signals that he wants to start with Chris Card. Card responds by stepping out of his corner, offering a lock up well out of Dragon's reach and as the hard partying high flier steps to get closer, Card calmly flips him off and tags in TORU, who spits at Dragon and steps into the ring.

 

“Card ducking a fight? Surely not,” Mak muses with the faintest hint of sarcasm.

 

The big man closes in on Dragon and the pair lock up. TORU muscles Dragon downwards but Dragon releases one of his arms and flips, turning the hold into a top wristlock on his Japanese compatriot. Wit the greatest of balance Dragon hops up onto the middle rope, then the top rope, keeping TORU's wrist locked in tight. Dragon walks the middle rope, but before he has a chance to try anything fancy, Chris Card walks a few steps down the ring apron and hooks Dragon's legs out from under him, crotching him on the rope! Dragon drops to the outside and Ced Ordonez steps into the ring, while TORU tags out to his partner KOJI.

 

“You have to have eyes in the back of your head against TKO,” Mak claims.

 

“No you don't. You just have to stick to the technical stuff and not flip around like you've drank too much Jolt Cola,” King snorts.

 

In the ring KOJI and Ced circle each other carefully. KOJI steps backwards a little and with a touch of space Ced busts a move in the middle of the ring. KOJI looks and claps, possibly sarcastically before busting a move of his own, stepping in, shaking his legs and finishing the sequence with an eye rake. The crowd boos as KOJI allows himself a little laugh. KOJI jukes and jives as he kicks away at Ced's legs before applying a wrist lock, forcing Ced down into the splits and keeping his arm held aloft in a Saturday Night Fever pose! “KING OF DANCEUH!” shouts the Japanese cruiser as he moonwalks back to his own corner and tags in Chris Card.

 

“It's time to see what Jonathon Clarke can do,” muses Mak as the talented young Geordie squares off with Chris Card. Clarke throws a big left leg kick, which Card swats away calmly with his right arm. Clarke tries again, kicking out with his other leg and again Card blocks, punctuating the solid block with a wag of the finger. “Chris Card is one of the cockiest stars on the roster, King,” comments Mak.

 

“Chris Card is simply a c...” starts King before a solid cough from Mak reminds him to keep it clean.

 

Card closes in on Clarke and grabs an arm, whipping Clarke into the ropes. Clarke regains control of his motion and forces Card to flatten himself against the mat to avoid a shoulder block. Upon reaching the far ropes Clarke leaps up and springboards off the middle rope, launching himself into a dropkick but Card steps two big strides forwards and Clarke crashes and burns on the mat. Card taps his head to show that he's out-thinking his opponent. Clarke rolls to the outside behind Card's back and Dragon leaps over the ropes back into the ring and takes a solid fighting stance. Card takes his own fighting stance, backs up and as Dragon looks for a lock up Card extends his arm back and KOJI reaches out and tags himself in. Card flips DDD off AGAIN and retreats to his corner, while KOJI jumps in over the ropes and fires a phantom crescent kick at his opponent to remind Dragon who he’s dealing with. Dragon isn’t intimidated and steps in to fire a low kick at KOJI’s shin - which connects fine, but simply seems to piss the Saitaman off and he launches two lightning-quick kicks in retaliation! KOJI winds up for a third and swings but Dragon jumps right over it, then lands and starts dancing as KOJI’s momentum carries him around. KOJI’s eyes narrow and he launches a crescent kick for real, but Dragon busts out the splits to duck in perfect time with his routine, before popping back to his feet and delivering an elbow smash to the startled Kitano. KOJI staggers and Dragon follows up with a chop, a clap, an elbow, a clap and then he takes the dazed KOJI up into a Fireman’s Carry…

 

“He’s going for the Game Over!” Francis shouts as Triple D takes a firm hold on KOJI’s head and starts to swing he fellow countryman off his shoulders, but KOJI has the move scouted and manages to slide off and land on his feet. However, he hasn’t managed to break Dragon’s grip and the DDR aficionado simply adjusts his footing, then leaps backwards up and over his opponent to come down into the Dance Dance DDT!

 

*BANG!*

 

Dragon grabs his opponent’s leg and tries for a cover…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…but KOJI kicks out! Triple D pulls his opponent upright and busts a quick two-second routine before running for the ropes and exploding off them to deliver a high-impact running palm strike to KOJI, knocking the former Tag Champion back down.

 

“DRA-GON!”

 

“DRA-GON!”

 

“This Mexican crowd certainly seem to be behind Triple D,” Mak muses, “although he does have lucha training and he might be known to them, maybe that’s why.”

 

“Nah, people just get dumber the further South you go,” King snorts.

 

“Shall I tell Va’aiga you said that?”

 

“Don’t. You. Dare.”

 

KOJI is starting to struggle up to his feet again, but Dragon is there waiting for him - the Bemani Bruiser claps to get the crowd going, does another quick boogie and then runs for the ropes again… not realising that as soon as he turns his back KOJI staggers for a different set of ropes and tumbles out to the floor. Dragon rebounds and charges across the ring at speed, realising too late that the member of TKO he’s now facing-

 

*WHAM!*

 

-was slingshotting himself into a shoulderblock from the apron.

 

“Big hit by TORU, and Dragon is down!” Mak shouts.

 

The Japanese Hammer pops back to his feet, then as Dragon rolls over onto his front the big man hops up onto his smaller opponent’s back and begins to clumsily bust out some DDR!

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

TORU gives that up as a bad job before he falls off, but Dragon is certainly feeling the effects; Triple D is hauled upright and Irish whipped into the TKO corner without putting up any resistance, but instead of following up straight away TORU turns and runs for his two opponents on the apron, delivering a massive shoulderblock that knocks Ced Ordonez clean to the floor! Johnathan Clarke steps through the ropes to try and get some payback but referee Hall interposes himself, allowing TORU to head back to his corner where he and KOJI quickly lay Dragon out on the floor and grab a leg each. They pull Dragon’s dancin’ pins apart as Card casually steps into the ring, cocks an elbow… and falls right into Dragon’s crotch.

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“That’s outrageous!” Mak shouts as Card leans into a nonchalant cover, then yells at Hall to come and make the count.

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…but Dragon kicks out!

 

“Yeah, Hall should have been paying more attention to the match and less to the Dickhead Kid, TKO could have won there!” King agrees. Or well, sort of agrees.

 

Chris Card picks the pained Dragon up off the floor and shoves him into the TKO corner, then lifts his left leg and delivers a series of quickfire roundhouse kicks to his opponent’s ribs while TORU and KOJI each hang on to an arm. Hall starts to count against this unfair restraint, but in the time it takes him to reach four and a half Card has landed several blows, and his Japanese charges release Dragon on cue and just before the DQ mark. Card then snapmares Dragon out of the corner and delivers a Dragon Kick to his opponent’s spine (just to add insult to injury) before tagging TORU back in and exiting the ring.

 

“Typical of Chris Card; let his team do the hard work, then he capitalises,” Mak sniffs.

 

“Well, he’s a manager these days,” King reasons, “it’s not surprising that he gets blown up easily.”

 

TORU easily heaves the winded and panting Dragon off the canvas, then scoops him up to hold him horizontally across his chest. The big man sets himself, then performs a standing moonsault to crush Triple D against the canvas with the Blockbuster Slam!

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TH-but Johnathan Clarke breaks the pin with a boot to the head! TORU gets up and rounds angrily on his opponent but Clarke is already making tracks. Anthony Michael Hall is ushering him from the squared circle so TORU takes the opportunity to step on Dragon’s throat, prompting frantic thrashing from his fellow countryman. Ced Ordonez yells at his fellow referee and, perhaps because it’s Ced, Hall looks around quickly to see what’s going on.

 

‘One!’

 

‘Two!’

 

‘Three!’

 

‘Four!’

 

‘Fi-’

 

TORU backs off, hands raised and denying that he did anything wrong - the fact that he’s speaking Japanese doesn’t help his case much, but it’s pretty clear to everyone except TKO that he has no case to make anyway. Dragon is unable to use this opportunity to get help though, as he’s concentrating on replacing the sweet, sweet air into his lungs; the sweet sweet air that is quickly removed again as TORU casually approaches and drops a knee into his ribs, then walks over to his corner and tags KOJI back in.

 

“Dance Dance Dragon is in serious trouble here,” Mak notes as the former Tag Champions return towards their fellow countryman’s struggling form, “if he can’t get a tag in soon this match will be over!”

 

“Yeah, but his choices to tag in are two guys who haven’t won a match in about three years for Ced or five years for Clarke,” King counters, “in terms of calling in the cavalry, they’re the equivalent of a screaming five-year old mounted on a flatulent pony.”

 

As The Gambling Man’s similes get more and more bizarre, TKO are going to work; TORU drags Dragon upright and hoists him into a bear hug while KOJI runs for the ropes, bounces off and leaps into the air to deliver a roundhouse kick to the head just as TORU drives Triple D down to the canvas with a massive spinebuster!

 

*BANG!*

 

TORU dusts his hands off contemptuously and leaves the ring while KOJI makes the cover…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TH-but this time it’s Ced Ordonez who breaks the pin up! The part-time referee delivers a stomp to his opponent’s back for good measure, then turns and hastens away to avoid being disqualified. KOJI grabs his lumbar and growls in pain before deciding to take it out on Dragon with a spot o’ hand choking…

 

‘One!’

 

‘Two!’

 

‘Three!’

 

‘Four!’

 

‘Fi-’

 

…and yet again, Kitano stops before he is in danger of being DQ’d. He sneers at referee Hall and starts to bring Dragon up to his feet, then makes a throat-cutting motion and hooks his opponent up as if for a vertical suplex…

 

“Whirlwind Driver coming up!” King shouts.

 

…but it’s not to be, as although KOJI gets Dance Dance Dragon up and around, the Benami Bruiser lands on his feet and then unhooks his arm from around KOJI’s neck to grab a front waistlock and bridge backwards!

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…but KOJI kicks out of the Northern Lights Suplex before Hall’s hand can come down for the third time! Both wrestlers start to scramble back to their feet, but as KOJI swings an arm in a clothesline attempt Dragon ducks under, then grabs hold of his opponent and hoists, twists and drops Kitano into a Blue Thunder Bomb!

 

*BANG!*

 

Dragon doesn’t hold for the pin; instead he starts to crawl towards his corner, reaching out to try and make contact with the outstretched hand of Ced Ordonez. Unfortunately the Bemani Cross Wizard’s hand is a long way away from his fellow DDR enthusiast, and as Dragon reaches out he feels hands clamp onto his ankle.

 

“KOJI’s just so smart,” King chuckles as the breathless Kitano latches onto his opponent’s ankle and clings with grim determination, anchoring Triple D in place. KOJI doesn’t have anything else to throw at Dragon just yet, but the Bemani Bruiser is nearing the end of his strength and the kicks he fires towards his opponent’s head are lacking in power. After a tense few seconds KOJI starts to get his breath back and begins to get up, keeping a firm hold on Dragon’s ankle. Dragon starts to try and rise as well, and as both men get up the masked cruiserweight leaps up to swing a gamengiri at his opponent’s face…

 

…but KOJI ducks and Dragon slams back down onto his chest with nothing to show for it! KOJI grins and hauls backwards, dragging his opponent towards his corner where TORU reaches out and tags himself back in off his partner’s shoulder, then steps through the ropes. The two members of TKO drag Dragon upright again, then both fire roundhouse kicks at his head to sandwich the Masked Dance Assassin in a world of cranium-based pain…

 

…but this is Dragon’s turn to duck and TKO’s legs collide with a crack of bone on bone!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

Dragon ducks away as TKO stop hopping and turn to face him; the Bemani Bruiser has ended up with his opponent’s between him and his corner, and despite both limping a little both TORU and KOJI look prepared to stop Dragon getting past them to his corner and the safety of his tag team partners. Dragon backs away, eyes darting behind the mask and looking for a way past, but no opening presents itself as the former Tag Champions advance on him.

 

“Dragon needs to get out of there,” Mak says urgently.

 

Suddenly Dragon’s eyes glint and he holds up a finger as if an idea has just occurred to him; he turns and throws himself out through the ropes to the floor, then turns and waves at TKO. TORU and KOJI glower over the rope at him while Card looks on from the apron, clearly wondering where Dragon is going with this… but then Card cottons on and yells at his team as Ordonez and Clarke streak across the ring towards them! KOJI turns around and eats a jumping back elbow, while TORU gets wiped out by a Yakuza Kick!

 

“That’s illegal!” King shouts.

 

“No!” Mak shouts back, “under the rules of the match, Dragon tagged out by leaving the ring! TKO aren’t used to lucha tag rules and didn’t work out what he was doing!”

 

Card seems to be debating whether he should try and jump Clarke from behind or stay safely on the apron; the decision is taken out of his hands as Dance Dance Dragon grabs his ankles and jerks them off the apron, causing Technical Perfection to fall and hit his head.

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

Dragon starts laying into the stunned Card with chops on the outside while Clarke and Ordonez go to work; Clarke hoists TORU up and drops him with a Fisherman’s Buster, then Ced delivers a double stomp to the gut as an exclamation point. The Bemani Cross Wizard then directs his partner to climb to the top rope before hoisting KOJI up onto his shoulders into a Fireman’s carry; Ced then steps forward and performs a forward roll that drives Kitano into the mat before clearing the landing area as The Extreme Solution comes off the top buckle with the Air Extreme frog splash!

 

“Will you count these bastards out!?” King yells at Hall.

 

“I’m not sure he’s worked out which one now counts as the legal man…” Mak muses.

 

“It doesn’t matter, they’re still both in the ring at the same time!”

 

“TKO have been in there longer.”

 

“That’s different!” The Gambling Man protests.

 

Dragon delivers a final chop to Card, then rolls Technical Perfection into the ring underneath the bottom rope and follows. Card tries to escape but comes up against Johnathan Clarke, who hoists his fellow Englishman onto his shoulders in a Fireman’s carry before spinning him around and dropping him headfirst with the Extreme Horror!

 

“How the tide has turned!” Mak comments.

 

“As soon as Dragon’s not in the ring,” King grumbles, “tells you a lot. Namely, that these guys can only hurt TKO if they jump them from behind!”

 

Dragon, Ordonez and Clarke share a triple high-five in the middle of the ring, then turn their attention back to their opponents. Clarke takes TORU, Ordonez KOJI and Dragon Chris Card as they pull each man to his feet, take their right legs… and perform a synchronised triple Dragon Screw!

 

*BANG!*

 

Johnathan Clark grabs both of TORU’s legs, tucks them under his arms and then starts to turn the big man over onto his front, sitting down into a Boston Crab!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

Ced Ordonez grabs KOJI’s legs and locks them in place with his own, then falls backwards to apply his reverse figure-four leglock known as the Cross Lightning!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

Dance Dance Dragon… looks lost!

 

“Oh come on!” King shouts in obvious disgust, “call yourself a luchadore? You must have SOME sort of wacky submission you can pull out!”

 

“Why do you want him to get a submission move?” Mak asks as Card starts to inch towards the ropes.

 

“Well, it is Card he’ll be doing it on.”

 

Dragon looks around desperately, then inspiration seems to dawn as he moves forward and sits down on Chris Card’s back…and applies a Camel Clutch!

 

“…YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“Did I miss something? Is this the 80s?” King asks, presumably trying to distract himself from the fact that his favoured team are on the verge of losing. “A Boston Crab and a Camel Clutch?”

 

“They’re still effective King, and they still might win the match!” Mak calls as Anthony Michael Hall works out that the last legal man for TKO was TORU, and it makes sense in that case for Johnathan Clarke to be the legal man for the Extreme Cross Wizards. He hurries over and bends down to check if TORU wants to submit…

 

…and from the arena floor, Natasha hops up onto the apron. Experience from the last two couple of shows has taught her that the Aerosol Equalizer is at best an indifferent weapon when used against Dragon’s mask with its eye portals, so this time she brought something different to the dance.

 

KOJI’s steel pipe.

 

*THUNK!*

 

Dragon collapses sideways and Card straightens up, suddenly free while Natasha drops the pipe out of view and then hurriedly drops to the ring floor herself. Hall looks up as Card approaches, which gives Clarke a second of warning-

 

*CRACK!*

 

-but that second isn’t long enough as a roundhouse kick catches him in the back of the head and knocks him from atop TORU! Meanwhile Natasha turns around to find herself staring at a fuming Daizee, who charges and takes her down!

 

“King, would you like to do the honours?”

 

“CAAAAAAAAAATFIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHT!”

 

“Thanks.”

 

Ced Ordonez sees that his other two opponents are free and doesn’t hang about, releasing KOJI and getting to his feet before charging at Card and TORU as they turn around. The Bemani Cross Wizard leaves his feet to hit a running front dropkick, one foot into each chest; Card goes over and TORU staggers backwards while Ordonez rebounds and lands on his back; he kips back up to his feet and delivers an enzuigiri that does manage to take TORU down, but then turns around to have a foot driven into his gut as KOJI recovers. Kitano hooks his opponent for a front suplex then lifts…

 

…spins…

 

…and drops.

 

*BANG!*

 

“WHIRLWIND DRIVER!” King yells as KOJI rolls his opponent into a cover… but Anthony Michael Hall is straight on his case, informing him that not only is Ced not the legal man, but neither is he! KOJI flips the double bird at the official and starts to haul Ordonez out of the ring, but Johnathan Clarke is now getting back up holding his head. The Extreme Solution measures Chris Card for a second before delivering a rolling palmstrike that sends the rising Technical Perfection sprawling, sees Dance Dance Dragon down and out in the corner and starts to make his way towards his partner when TORU comes out of left field with a knee to the gut!

 

“Clarke might be about the pay the penalty for inattention,” Mak notes as TORU applies a double underhook.

 

“It’s Hammertime!” King chortles… but the threatened Tiger Driver fails to materialise, as Clarke breaks his opponent’s grip on his arms and back bodydrops his way up and out!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

Clarke looks around to see what else is going on… and on the outside sees that Natasha’s martial arts training has overcome his girlfriend’s initial rush, and Female Perfection has Daizee locked into the Spiderwebs! Clarke’s mouth drops open in horror and he makes for the ropes to save his girlfriend…

 

…only for Chris Card to step in behind him and secure a hammerlock/dragon sleeper combo, then spin out and down to deliver the Cardiac Arrest III!

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

Card gets back to his feet and, in rare moment of enthusiasm, mimes bringing a walkie-talkie to his mouth where he pretends to click a button…

 

‘Airstrike!’

 

…prompting TORU, who has just finished his climb, to leap off the top rope with the Shooting Star Press onto the prone Headdrop Kid!

 

*WHAM!*

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!!!

 

*DING-DING-DING!*

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, here are your winners; the team of ‘Technical Perfection’ Chris Card and TEEEEEEEEEEE… KAAAAAYYYYYYYY… OOOOOOHHHHHHHH!!” Funyon booms as ‘Tribe’ fires up once more in the Arena Mexico and Natasha finally releases the gasping Daizee before licking her victim’s cheek in a slightly creepy way and heading off to join her team.

 

“Another ill-deserved win for TKO,” Mak muses glumly.

 

“Come on Mak, that was an exercise in learning from your experiences!” King says.

 

“What, you mean Natasha used the steel pipe instead of the Aerosol Equalizer?”

 

“Exactly!” King confirms. “She’s not just a pretty face you know, she’s got smarts! Which makes it rather confusing why she’s hanging around with Card,” he admits, “but I suppose nobody’s perfect.”

 

“…and TKO certainly aren’t,” Mak finishes. “Another mugging leads to… hey, what’s this?”

 

TKO and Card don’t seem to be finished; Ordonez is weakly stirring on the outside and Clarke is down, Dance Dance Dragon is just getting back to his feet and holding his head. The woozy cruiserweight is grabbed roughly by TKO, one on each arm, and then hauled to the centre of the ring where he dangles limply between them. Chris Card, having retucked the few hairs that escaped from his hair tie while he was in action, leans in close and says something quietly to Triple D before stepping back, crossing both thumbs over his heart…

 

“Uh-oh,” Mak manages.

 

…and Card delivers the Calling Card to Dragon’s chest, blasting the Masked Dance Assassin to the mat!

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

Anthony Michael Hall cowers away from TORU as the big man bellows at him; then TKO and Chris Card Enterprises take their leave, making sure to flip the fans off on the way.

 

“One of these days I think Chris Card and TKO are going to get what’s coming to them, and it might be more than they can handle,” Mak Francis says darkly. “But anyway fans, coming up next we have World Champion the Insane Luchador in a non-title match against recently-returned star Tod James Stewart - don’t go anywhere!”

 

“Mak, they can go where they want, they’ll be watching on DVD…”

 

“Shut up.”

 

 

 

 

FADE OUT

 

[Toxxic 0]

“We are back in Mexico rapidly approaching our Air Raid main event for the Cruiserweight Title,” Mak says. “But first we get to see our World Champion, Insane Luchador, square off against Tod Stuart Stuart in a non-title match!”

 

“Yeah, noticing a pattern about another non-title match? I bet Luchador’s just trying to draw out his reign before he loses his World Title,” King speculates to a skeptical sigh from his partner.

 

“I can safely say that Insane Luchador has never backed down from a fight and I’m sure that he is willing to put that title up anytime, anywhere, and against anyone,” Mak replies. “This began as a seemingly harmless match that has the opportunity to catapult Tod into World Championship contention or it’s an opportunity for Luchador’s unbelievable winning streak to continue.”

 

“But it became a bit more serious when Luchador began to run his mouth,” King says.

 

“They had a minor exchange backstage at our last event that got tense but otherwise was simply Tod telling Luchador he’s out to win.”

 

“But Luchador had to turn it into an ordeal when he addressed Tod twice, both times being degrading and questioning Tod’s integrity and worth. And, to top it all off, he brought up Tod’s daughter, claiming she shouldn’t see this match.”

 

“I can’t lie and say that Luchador didn’t have some rather harsh words for Tod but he insisted they weren’t really threats, especially none towards his daughter, but instead simply him ‘thinking out loud for him.’”

 

“It doesn’t matter if they were or weren’t direct threats, he went out of his way to hit a soft spot with Stuart and he might come to regret it,” King predicts.

 

“It is ironic that the spark Va’aiga gave Luchador that ignited his winning streak may be the same kind of spark that he may have given Stuart.”

 

Suddenly “Helter Skelter” by the Beatles plays with the classic guitar riff that echoes before Tod James Stuart steps out to a mixed reaction from the crowd, mostly of cheers but the faithful Luchadorians make their opinions known by peppering in jeers. He intensely stares down at the ring, looking like a man on a mission, and begins to stomp down the aisle to King’s delight.

 

“Oh, he looks ppppiiiiisssseeeddd,” King gleefully says.

 

“Introducing first, from Toronto, Ontario, Canada… weighing in at 237 pounds… Tooodd Jaaammmeesss SSSTTUUUAAAARRT!”

 

Stuart continues his march down, hitting ringside, and climbs up the steel steps. He walks over onto the apron, respectfully wiping off his boots, and steps into the ring. He looks around at the Mexican crowd, bringing more cheers by pointing towards them, and he hops onto the second rope, leaning forward, rising his left fist, and smirking. He hops down and heads towards center of the ring, nodding at Kivell, and stares at the entrance stage while looking upset but composed.

 

“He doesn’t look livid but he certainly isn’t cheerful,” Mak points out. “If you ask me, it is extremely smart that Stuart is able to control himself but not neglect what IL has said to him. He needs to remain focused but the motivation could give him the edge he needs to win this match.”

 

“Man in the Box” begins to an explosion from the crowd, obviously willing to overlook the whole unmasked and non-Mexican ‘luchadore’ bit, and the unnerving chant begins that cues two loud blasts of red and black pyrotechnics, marking the World Champion’s arrival! Insane Luchador walks through the lingering smoke with the glistening World Title safely slung over his shoulder and he looks down at Tod with a smirk. He garners another wave of cheers by energetically throwing his arms into the air followed by patting his belt and he begins to descend down the ramp, slapping the fans’ hands while his eyes remained fixed on his opponent.

 

“Introducing next, from Easton, Pennsylvania… weighing in at 225 pounds… he is YOUR S-W-F WORLD CHAMPION… IIIIIIIINNNSSSAAAAANNNEEEE LLLLUUUCCCHHHAAADDOOORR!”

 

The Ill One hits ringside and slides in with his title clutched in his hands. He stands up and walks towards Kivell to hand his belt over, watching Tod’s eyes follow the belt like a dog with a chew toy, and he can’t help but to laugh at his opponent. They each step towards each other as Kivell hurries through his final bit, noticing the two slowly inching closer, and he’s ready to signal for the bell until Luchador moves. He extends a closed fist to Tod in a mostly sportsmanship-driven gesture but also, conveniently enough, in a way to gauge just how pissed TSJ is at him. Stuart begrudgingly returns the gesture, a smirk spreading across his face, and he suddenly uses the same fist to nail him with a hard right that surprises Kivell, the crowd, the announcers, but most of all, Insane Luchador! Kivell instantly calls for the bell as Tod lands yet another clean shot, followed by another, and finally a third that staggers Luchador.

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

He continues his assault on Luchador, sending him stumbling towards the corner, by landing quicker and quicker right hands that hit the World Champion flush. Tod’s anger becomes more and more apparent in the punches as they continue to land until Luchador finally hits back with an elbow. Tod shakes off the blow and lands another sharp right hand that causes IL to fall against the turnbuckle. The Ill One, proven to be one of the last men that should be backed into corners, predictably comes out swinging with his own overhand rights that captures the audience as the duel begins! The World Champion starts to get the better of Tod and uses the opportunity to circle away from the turnbuckle, hoping to now trap Tod, but his opponent is all over it. They continue to collide with blows until Luchador begins to get the edge and tries for a front kick that gets caught. Tod wisely uses the ensnared leg to drop low, grabbing at Luchador’s other leg, and dumping him to the canvas in a single takedown.

 

“Stuart just proved that he won’t let himself get reckless, he got the jump on Luchador but soon as the tides turned he took it down to the mat,” Mak points out.

 

Insane Luchador fends Tod off with kicks, leaving him to stand near Luchador, and when the Ill One stands up he knees IL in the gut. He steps to the side of Luchador, grabbing his neck, and hurling him over with the simple snapmare but adds a little zest to it by instantly following through with a dropkick to the back of Luchador’s head. The Ill One clutches the back of his head, rattled by the strike, but forces himself to roll back up to his feet, straight into Stuart’s not-so-welcoming arms, and Stuart locks in the front facelock, snags a handful of Luchador’s shorts, and takes him over with the snap suplex, holding onto the front facelock. He rolls back up to his feet, tugging Luchador up as well, and he hits another snap suplex, rolling up once again, and finally ending it with another snap suplex to Mak’s surprise.

 

“It’s unusual when he chains the snap suplex but he knows it’ll take a lot to beat IL,” Mak says.

 

“Yeah, Luchador’s plan of getting into Stuart’ head may be backfiring already,” King laughs.

 

Tod stands up, bending over to grab Luchador by the hair, and starts to stand him up but instead gets caught with two hard punches to his gut. IL stands up straight with a hard European Uppercut that stuns Stuart, followed by a kick to his ribs, and tops it off with a spinning back kick that doubles him over. Rickmen steps beside Stuart, wrapping an arm around the back of his head, and points to the outside to a roar from the audience, presumably signaling he’s ready to attempt decapitating Stuart with his bulldog into the ropes. He begins to run forward, bringing Tod along for the ride, and leaps into the air but without Stuart, who shoves himself free. Luckily IL lands on his feet on the outside with a look of slight surprise but he quickly shakes that off, throwing his arms into the air to energize the crowd, knowing well that Stuart’ days of diving to the outside are over. Well, mostly over. Because Stuart does just that, grabbing the top of the rope, and slinging himself over towards the outside! IL turns around just in time to collide with Stuart, taken aback by the move, and they smack against the thinly padded cement on the outside. Kivell goes through the motions by asking them to reenter the ring, without any luck, and so he starts the count-

 

“ONE!” Tod shoves himself off of Luchador, standing back up, and looking ready to slide back into the ring.

 

“TWO!” But instead Luchador, as if he were straight out of a zombie movie, grabs Tod by the ankle, halting him from entering the ring. He rolls up to his feet, psychotically smiling at Tod, but the unfazed Stuart blasts IL with an elbow!

 

“THREE!” Luchador reels back against the steel guardrail and with a growl he lunges out, tackling Stuart against the ring apron! He grabs Tod’s head and guides him over to the guardrail, crashing his head into the metal. Luchador lifts Tod’s head back up, briefly taunting Tod, and sends him into the guardrail once again.

 

“FOUR!” He lifts Stuart’ head up but Tod grabs onto the guardrail, saving himself, and sends a back elbow to stun his opponent. He slips away from Luchador, getting behind him, and quickly locks in the rear waistlock, arching over to send IL smacking against the cement with a gorgeous German suplex! Stuart stands back up, looking behind him to just see a crumbled Luchador softly groaning, and he smartly slides back into the ring, shaking off the cobwebs from that whole “head colliding into steel” thing.

 

“An amazing German suplex,” Mak says while the count passes five.

 

“SIX!” Luchador pushes himself onto one knee, gingerly rubbing the back of his head, and looks less than pleased by getting caught with the German suplex. Inside the ring Tod beckons Luchador to reenter the ring.

 

“SEVEN!” IL quickly responds to the invitation by sliding into the ring but immediately gets ambushed with stomps to his back!

 

“I have to say that Tod got the better of that exchange on the outside, which is practically Luchador’s playground, but so did Jenkins in his last match,” Mak observes.

 

“Yeah, and Luchador promptly took him back to the outside and knocked Spike around,” King recalls.

 

Insane Luchador rolls away from the stomping and Tod the Bod seems to show mercy, allowing him to get onto one knee, before charging forward with a grisly kick right into the Ill One’s face! The crowd explodes into jeers while Luchador loudly swears, grabs at his face, and plops back down onto the canvas, only to have Tod continue being relentless. He walks over and, just for kicks (no pun intended), kicks Luchador in his kidneys, dropping down to one knee next to IL, grabbing the back of his head and begins to rain down rights! Luchador tries to shield himself with his arms up but Tod’s strikes prove harder than expected since many of them break through his block until the strikes slow. The Ill One patiently waits and weathers the storm before seizing an opportunity to throw a hard palm strike that connects and leaves Tod with no choice but to slightly fall back, getting him away from Luchador. Stuart retreats back onto his feet while the World Champion quickly scrambles up, ambushing Tod with a hard elbow strike! He unleashes a leg kick that hits with enough strength to have Tod’s leg awkwardly bend and he staggers forward, straight into a spinning backfist to a roar of approval from the crowd.

 

“Tod had the advantage but now our World Champion is teeing off on him. Tod’s no slouch but Luchador looks ready to dish out some payback for those rights.”

 

Stuart sways, looking ready to collapse, and IL simply shoves him back to create enough room for him to dive down to the canvas, rolling, extending a leg, and smacking Tod with a Rolling Koppo Kick! The kick sends him reeling back until he hits the ropes, grabbing onto them for refuge, but Luchador stalks him with a psychotic smile. Stuart quickly gets off of the ropes before Luchador can capitalize, luckily preventing the fight from spilling back to outside, but that doesn’t stop the Ill One from breaking into a charge. He rapidly approaches, looking ready to leap into the air, but Tod the Bod is smart enough to take action, moving forward, and beating IL to the punch (well, kick) with a dropkick to floor the World Champion!

 

“Yeah, that was a real rally back from Luchador,” King sarcastically replies to his partner.

 

They get back onto their feet and the stubborn Luchador nails a hard left kick to Tod’s ribs, followed by a right to his thigh, and then a high head kick that Tod partially deflects but it obviously takes it toll. The Ill One laughs and lunges forward, wrapping his hands around the back of Tod’s head, lacing his fingers, and pulling him down in the Muay Thai clutch, signaling an inevitable plethora of knees. IL brings a knee into Tod’s ribs, amused by the instinctive groan from his opponent, and cocks his knee back in hopes for a devastating knee to his opponent, one that the fans eagerly cheer for. He smirks while pulling Stuart’ head down before unleashing the knee that cracks Tod in the face, causing him to crumble in his arms, and also causing a loud, involuntary groan of sympathy.

 

“A huge knee by Luchador early in the clinch,” Mak says. “He usually hits more but he may be worried about being overpowered.”

 

“A lot of it involves leverage over raw power though,” King points out.

 

Luchador locks in the front facelock and even throws in an elbow down against Tod’s spine before dropping down for a brutal Evenflow DDT! IL sits up with a smile and rolls Stuart over onto his back, hooking his leg for the cover-

 

“Pin fall attempt!”

 

“ONE!”

 

 

 

“TWO!” The crowd chants along, with a few stray boos.

 

 

 

Kivell gets his hand into the air but the resilient Stuart gets his shoulder up, trying to regain his whereabouts, and rolls away from Luchador to buy himself some time. Unfortunately for Tod the Bod, the Ill One pursues him, grabbing him by the back of his head, and yanking him up to his feet, only to eat a knee to the gut. Tod quickly wraps his arm around Luchador’s neck, swiftly spinning his body, and bringing Luchador down with a swinging neckbreaker.

 

“I have to admit that I’m impressed that anytime Luchador seems to be getting an upper hand Tod has a response,” Mak says.

 

Luchador rolls over to the ropes, draping an arm over the second rope, and already begins to climb back onto his feet. Meanwhile Tod rests on the canvas on his knees in recovery, keeping a close eye on his opponent, and finally gets to his feet with a heavy sigh. He shakes his head and raises an arm to the Mexican crowd, spawning a smattering of cheers, before heading towards his opponent. Luchador pulls himself up just in time to greet the approaching Tod with a hard elbow to the face, followed by another, and gets the hat trick with a nasty third one. The strikes sends Tod stumbling back but before IL can escape from the ropes he gets plastered with a hard forearm from Tod, sending him stumbling back against the turnbuckle. Tod tries to make something of it but IL is quick on recovery, lifting a leg up that catches Stuart, and it lets Luchador move away from the turnbuckle. The Ill One takes a step back and comes leaping out with a high head kick that Tod sees coming a mile away, ducking underneath it, and moves behind his opponent. Luchador, mostly off balance from the missed blow, is able to instinctively send a back elbow that connects and now IL spins behind his opponent. He locks in the half nelson, the prelude to his half nelson facebuster, but Tod muscles his arm free, so the Ill One locks in the rear waistlock just to keep control, knowing all too well that behind him is nothing but turnbuckle, the opening finally dawning on him.

 

“Luchador might be going for his finisher, the Brink of Insanity!” Mak predicts.

 

The Ill One gets ready to release the rear waistlock when Tod, who has begun to overpower Luchador’s grip on him anyway, is able to bust out of the rear waistlock. The World Champion attempts to lock in the full nelson anyway but his borderline pathetic lunge to capture the arms only lets Stuart smoothly slip behind him, with an opportunity now dawning on him.

 

“Wait, Stuart expertly slips free but now he may have Luchador where he needs him!”

 

“What’s that I hear… why, is that a ‘Silent Scream?’” King jeers.

 

He locks in his own half nelson and wraps his other arm around Luchador’s throat to a surprisingly venomous response from the crowd as he sinks in his finisher, the katihajime, better known as the Silent Scream!

 

“How can you hear it if it’s silent?” Mak muses. “Either way, Tod has that locked in and if he can get the body scissors sunk in then it’s over!”

 

Tod yanks back, ready to drop his weight in hopes to take IL down to the canvas with him, when the World Champion tries to use the free arm to elbow free. But his attempt is fruitless and Stuart looks ready to drop when IL suddenly throws his weight back, driving Tod back first into the turnbuckle! Stuart keeps the hold in while Luchador desperately tries to wedge his free arm to take away some of the pressure from the submission, without a lick of success, but finds minor success by yanking at the arm, creating just enough space to briefly breath. Tod pushes them forward, squeezing even harder, but the Ill One just drives them against the turnbuckle once again to the crowd’s lively support. Stuart retains the hold and arches back to really crank in the hold when Luchador bends his knees, at first Tod (and Kivell) take it as a sign of IL slowly passing out, but instead the World Champion explodes backwards, sandwiching Stuart hard against the turnbuckle once again! Just the impact alone jolts the hold long enough for Luchador to inhale a deep, gasping breath, the last thing Stuart wants to hear, and so Tod again pushes them forward. He arches his back even more before jumping into the air, wrapping his legs around Luchador, dropping to the canvas, and Stuart officially locks in the Silent Scream!

 

“He has that locked in deep!” Mak exclaims.

 

“I give him ten seconds before he passes out,” King replies.

 

The Ill One’s free arm continues to pry but it’s without any success while Kivell asks Luchador if he’s ready to tap, a rather rare occurrence but far from impossible, and gets the predictable no with a very constricted shake of his head. Insane Luchador’s legs thrash about and the Ill One makes his move before Tod turns them further away from the ropes. He flops over onto the side facing the ropes, a feeling of panic now rushing over Tod, and the Ill One’s foot brushes against the rope before lazily holding on top of it, IL now pointing towards his foot to the ref. Kivell quickly calls for the break and a frustrated Tod takes a final, debatably cheap final crank before letting go but he refuses to let this deter him. So he quickly stands up while Luchador is sprawled out on the canvas with his chest heaving and eyes opened wide, almost looking in shock at being able to escape. Stuart grabs a hold of Luchador’s foot and drags him to center of the ring where he drops down, now attempting a pin in hopes the Silent Scream has done its damage!

 

“ONE!” “This may be it!”

 

 

 

 

“TWO!”

 

Kivell’s hand rises up into the air and it simply couldn’t seem to move any slower to Stuart. But the Ill One kicks out, to a chorus of cheers, and it leaves Tod feeling back at square one. He doesn’t allow Luchador any chance at recuperating, generally a sound idea, and so he tries to go back on the offensive. Except sometimes that plan can backfire if the opponent feels morally renewed after narrowly escaping his foe’s finisher and this is one of those times as Tod drags him up by his hair. Luchador reaches up, wrapping his hands around the back of Stuart’ head, and dropping onto both knees with a jawbreaker that drops him. The Ill One remains on his knees, starting to truly regain his regular breathing pattern, and he just waits for Tod to start to get up.

 

“Another close call and another time these two will have to stand off against each other.”

 

Both men get back onto their feet and Tod keeps his distance, not being weary but being wise, and his defensive body language tells Luchador it’s time for him to go on the offensive. Luckily for the Psychotic Hero that has never been an issue and he charges forward with an overhand right but it gets blocked. Tod tries for his own but Luchador uses his free arm to knock it out of the air, coming forward with a knee to Tod’s gut, and he grabs the back of Tod’s head, lowering it down, to land another brutal knee straight into his face! He maintains a hold on his opponent’s dark hair, keeping him from dropping, and uses that handful of hair to shake Tod like a rag doll to Kivell’s protest. Luchador chuckles at the sight and finally lets go of Tod’s hair, shoving him down onto all fours, and the Ill One leaps into the air, flattening his opponent with a simple double stomp. He mimics Tod earlier with kicks to his opponent’s kidneys until Stuart flips onto his back, leaving Luchador to point towards the corner to a loud round of cheers.

 

“That’s a long shot but IL doesn’t seem fazed by it and these fans certainly won’t object,” Mak says.

 

“Tod’s a tough guy, though, so our ‘Champ’ better hurry up."

 

Insane Luchador strays from his usual quick execution of the top rope moves and instead saunters over to the turnbuckle, hopping backwards onto it, back to the crowd, and he stares at the distance between himself and Stuart with a smirk. He bends his knees and watches Tod begin to stir, turning onto one side, but promptly flopping back onto his back. The Ill One leaps into the air, tucking in his legs and arms, before bringing them back out in a frog splash that impressively connects near center of the ring, the collision causing him to practically bounce off of Stuart!

 

“The Frog Splash connects!” Mak yells.

 

Luchador clutches at his ribs but easily endures the pain to cover-

 

“ONE!”

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

“THHHHRRREEEE!” The crowd gleefully cries but suddenly it dissolves into jeers since Kivell holds up two fingers because Stuart is able to kick out at the last second, even leaving Luchador protesting to the official. He shakes it off, though, and stands back up, massaging his ribs, and he begins to insult his opponent. Stuart stares up at his opponent, hearing Luchador’s claims that he warned him, and he rolls away, only to hear IL’s accusations he’s running away.

 

“It’s hard to hear exactly what Luchador’s saying but he’s definitely messing with his head now,” Mak says.

 

“IL may just be lighting a short fuse and he’ll regret it when it blows up in his face.”

 

The Ill One watches Tod valiantly get up onto a knee, head still hanging low, and the World Champion actually seems to genuinely encourage him to stand back up. He keeps his distance from Stuart, whether it’s in an act of kindness or to give a feeling of false security isn’t known, because he starts to slowly close in. Tod remains on one knee when Luchador comes into range with a psychotic grin, allowing him to shoot out, and tackle IL down with a double leg takedown! Tod lies on top of Luchador, who wraps his legs around Tod’s back to pull the basic MMA guard and he tries to reach up to control Tod’s upper body but instead he eats a vicious elbow! IL tries to grab once again but another elbow connects so hard the World Champion’s head bounces off of the canvas, matter of fact, it bounces up so high Tod just has to hit yet another! The Ill One apparently has no effective response to the elbows except squirming about and now Tod gets to spew out insults, although his are mainly words that luckily aren’t heard beyond ringside.

 

“Stuart is absolutely ripping Luchador with these elbows and it looks like he’s right back into this one!” Mak exclaims.

 

“It’s the perfect thing to do, Mak, he’s on the ground and can begin to catch his breath, meanwhile even those short elbows hurt like hell so it’s effective striking.”

 

Luchador finally is able to wrap his arms around Tod’s back, controlling his posture and halting the painful elbow strikes, and uses it to switch positions, now Tod is forced to pull his own guard.

 

“This is a prime example of how this sport is constantly evolving because it’s gotten to the point where it’s practically a necessity to be well-rounded,” Mak points out.

 

“Tod has always been good on the mat and, like you said, I wouldn’t be surprised if he dabbled beyond the usual chain wrestling,” King points out.

 

Meanwhile Insane Luchador drops an elbow down of his own, hovering his arm above Tod’s head, and he hammers him with another. He goes for a third when suddenly Tod makes his move, snatching Luchador’s arm, and tries to bend his arm backwards at the elbow in hopes to get an easy submission. The Ill One knows the danger of these submissions, ones where bones can be broken in a flash, and he’s able to rain down hammerfists until Tod releases his arm. Insane Luchador, far from being ready to dive into the world of Mixed Martial Arts, opts to stans up while rubbing his now safe arm. IL uses two fingers and signals for his opponent to stand up, backing away enough to give Tod room but remaining close enough to pounce. Tod stands up and Luchador telegraphs an overhand right that gets caught by the wrist, which Stuart promptly uses to start an Irish whip. But the veteran IL is able to use the spinning momentum to his advantage and reverses it, sending Tod rocketing into the ropes. Insane Luchador charges after his opponent, closely following after him, but Stuart is able to save himself at the ropes, bringing up a boot that catches IL flush! The World Champion nearly collapses and Tod slips behind him, hooking an arm into the air, and tries to bring the other arm across the throat but the slick Luchador has his free arm covering his neck. Tod latches onto the free arm, bringing it away from IL’s neck, and is fast enough to lock the arm around the throat as well!

 

“The Silent Scream’s nearly locked in but he needs to keep Luchador away from those…” Mak begins but gets cut off since IL looks ready to go for the ropes.

 

The Ill One immediately seeks salvation from the ropes, which has Kivell beckoning Tod to release, but instead Stuart tries to pry IL off of the ropes, most likely hoping to let go to instantly reapply it. Kivell nearly starts the count as Luchador holds onto the ropes, going light headed, and he decides to make his own move rather than wait to be released. He pulls himself towards the ropes, therefore towing Tod as well, and he awkwardly weighs down the cables before spilling to the outside. The combination of the cables being lowered, Tod being yanked forward, and Luchador’s weight suddenly gone leaves Stuart flipping over the ropes to the outside!

 

“An odd but effective way to break the hold before Tod does and now they’re in Luchador’s realm,” Mak says. “This may be Luchador’s chance to make up for getting beaten earlier on the outside, the one area that IL can usually fall back on.”

 

Kivell walks over to the ropes and looks over them, seeing Tod start to scramble up while IL stands up in sadistic laughter. Kivell mumbles about getting back into the ring before starting the count-

 

“ONE!” Luchador and Tod collide with overhand rights until IL switches things up with a kick to his opponent’s ribs.

 

“TWO!” Tod flinches and Luchador grabs him by his hair, throwing him against the barricade.

 

“THREE!” Luchador makes the short charge at him but it is taken aback since Tod bends down, leaving IL wide open for back body drop!

 

“FOUR!” Fans in harm’s way chaotically scramble away as Luchador’s dumped over into the audience to Tod’s delight.

 

“FIVE!” Stuart turns around, reaching over to grab IL, and eats a hard elbow from the Ill One! He stumbles back and Luchador nimbly hops onto the guard rail, leaping off of it, locking onto his target. He doesn’t seem to move at all, really, until he approaches the helpless Tod where he springs into action, locking in the front headlock, and using the sweet force of momentum to plant him down with a Tornado DDT!

 

“Tornado DDT!”

 

“SIX!” The crowd goes crazy for the move while Luchador gets onto his knees, playfully slapping at Tod’s head, and continuing to taunt his opponent, all to the crowd’s pleasure.

 

“SEVEN!” Luchador grabs two handful of Tod’s hair, tugging him up onto his feet, and he rolls him back into the ring.

 

“EIGHT!” The Ill One throws his arms into the air to garner yet another wave of supportive cheers before sliding into the ring himself. Meanwhile Stuart seeks refuge by rolling all the way to the opposite side of the ring, grabbing at his head with one hand, the middle rope with the other. Insane Luchador stands up and facetiously claps his hands together as if getting done with an easy chore while heading towards Stuart.

 

“That Tornado DDT on the outside may mark be the beginning of the end here,” Mak points out.

 

Insane Luchador reaches Stuart and grabs him, pulling him up, and leading him towards center of the ring. He looks around the crowd, throwing one arm into the air to rally the crowd once again, when he’s suddenly hit in the gut by Stuart. Tod bends over, wrapping an arm around Luchador’s neck in hopes to catch him in the stand fireman’s carry, the set up to Brain Go Splat!

 

“He’s looking for Brain Go Splat!”

 

“Brain Go Splat? God, that’s, like, TORU English,” King points out with a chuckle.

 

Stuart isn’t able to grab a hold of Luchador’s leg and so the Ill One shakes him off. He whirls around and ducks low, throwing an elbow into the gut of Stuart, causing him to double over. Luchador promptly stands up straight, locking in the front facelock, fires off two elbows into the back of Stuart’ head and without any sort of resistance he’s able to grab a handful of tights, lift him into the air, and plaster him with the Implant DDT! Stuart’ body goes limp on the canvas while IL rolls him over, hooking the legs, and going for the pin-

 

“A brutal Implant DDT to wrap things up,” Mak says, presuming that Tod’s near lifeless body results in a win.

 

“ONE!” The crowd chants.

 

“TWO!” They gleefully cheer.

 

“TTTTHHRREEE!”

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

“Man in the Box” kicks up while Insane Luchador tiredly stands up, his body looking beaten and bruised with his forehead throbbing red from earlier elbows, but he still throws his arms into the air.

 

“Our World Champion’s streak continues and now it leaves me to wonder, who’s going to stop him?” Mak asks.

 

“Hopefully whoever’s next in line and hopefully he’ll put that belt on the line, too,” King bitterly says.

 

“Stuart nearly had it won a few times over the course of the match but IL was able to edge him out on this one. What’s next for the Ill One is unknown but we know what’s coming up next, the Air Raid main event!”

 

-Starwipe-

[Toxxic 0]

“I’m standing backstage with the SWF World Cruiserweight Champion, Wildchild,” says Ben Hardy. “And Wildchild, tonight you’ll be defending the World Cruiserweight Title in a four-way Air Raid Match. You’ve been pretty dominant in the Cruiserweight Division, but you’ve never been in a match like this; what was your reaction when you found out that you were going to have to defend your title in an Air Raid match?”

 

“My reaction?” WC thinks a few moments before responding. “My t’oughts were, I t’ought dat de Commish’ner was tryin’ t’tell me som’tin’. Dis is definitely gon’ t’be my biggest challenge as champion since I won de belt last year at Genesis, but I can’t let dat discourage me. I have never ducked anybody as champion, an’ I’m not gon’ t’let myself worry about what could be a difficult match.”

 

“But aren’t you a little worried about your chances tonight?” Hardy asks nervously. “I mean, you haven’t had the greatest amount of success in multi-man matches… In fact, outside of the tag division, I don’t think you’ve ever won a match where you had more than one opponent!”

 

“Oui,” concedes Wildchild. “Even back in de JL, multiple opponents have given me trouble, whet’er it was a Triple T’reat, a Four-Way, or a Battle Royal. Like I said before, maybe de Commish’ner is tryin’ t’tell me somet’in.”

 

“You think that this was a decision made to decrease the odds of you retaining your title?”

 

“If you’re askin’ me if I t’ink dat de Commissh’ner has it in for me,” replies WC with a sarcastic grin, “I’m gon’ have t’say no. I’m not too excited t’be in dis match, but I can’t let dat bodder me right now. It is what it is. An’, like I said before, I’ve never ducked anybody, an’ I’m not gon’ back down from dis challenge, either!”

 

“Well, there’s no denying your determination,” says Hardy, “but some people around here have been questioning your commitment. You’ve been the fed’s biggest active star since Genesis, but there have been concerns that you’ve become too involved in other interests back in your home of the Bahamas. There’s been speculation that, with all that, the SWF’s ownership group is a little concerned that you might leave them in a compromised situation, and that’s led to the pressure to get the World Cruiserweight Title off you! How do you respond to that?”

 

“Look,” replies Wildchild, irritation growing in his voice, “I’m not gon’ answer any more of dese conspiracy questions… Me an’ Toxxic don’ exactly see eye t’eye, but I’ve never questioned his integrity, an’ I’m not gon’ to now. All I can do is put my history in multi-man matches behind me, an’ go out dere an’ prove t’ev’rybody dat I still deserve t’be de Worl’ Cruiserweight Champion… an’ dat’s what I intend to do!”

 

“Well, there you have it,” says Hardy, as Wildchild exits stage right. “As Wildchild gets ready to defend the World Cruiserweight Title in a match that he’s never been in before, he seems pretty intent on bucking history. And, with that, it’s time for the main event: King, Mak, back to you!”

[Toxxic 0]

*pushes everyone off the top of the X*

*Boom, Explosion*

 

Everyone dies except Spike.

 

 

 

 

© Smartmarks Wrestling Federation 2008