SWF 13th HOUR 2008!

[Toxxic 0]

Shortly before 13th Hour, in the Management Office

 

“No, I don’t know where Landon is.”

 

Toxxic is on the phone.

 

“No, I don’t know when he’ll be back. He's been blabbering about Torres and Villa all damn week, I hope I don't see him until after the Euros are finished, smug git."

 

To someone very annoying.

 

“No, I won’t pass a message on. I’m a General Manager, not a bloody answerphone. Any queries you have can be answered by me just as well as him.”

 

…

 

“Yeah, I’ve heard of Customer Service. We fired them last week.”

 

…

 

“Well, sod off then,” Toxxic says, looking at the now silent receiver and slamming it down. “Bloody Americans…”

 

*knock-kno-*

 

“What?” he snaps, looking around at the door. Sally the intern pokes her head around it, grateful that she doesn’t have to worry about her boss looking down her cleavage when it’s just the Englishman in the office.

 

“Uh, I’ve got one of the new guys here to see you,” she informs the SWF’s General Manager.

 

“Which one?” Toxxic asks, reflecting on the fact that he has the luxury of asking the question following the SWF’s recent swell of numbers, “the big one, the tattooed one or the really big one wearing the skull mask?”

 

“The-” Sally begins, only to be shouldered aside by the form of Austin “Ragdoll” Baker, who slouches into the office.

 

“That one,” Sally points, and exits as she sees Toxxic’s eyes narrow.

 

“Landon!” Baker slurs, casting his gaze around the office, then stops on the General Manager. “Yurr not Landon,” he states accusingly. “Whe’ Landon?”

 

“Doesn’t bloody matter,” Toxxic snaps, standing up. “What’s more important is that you are here instead of getting ready for your match.” He sniffs. “Plus, you’re steaming. What gives?”

 

“I’s coming to see Landon,” Baker says, exaggerating the name carefully, “to tell him that I’m no’ really shure I should be wrestlin’. Bad headache,” he adds, tapping one finger none-too-steadily on his cranium.

 

“Mr. Baker, I don’t know how they do things in the OAOAST,” Toxxic says in the tone of voice of someone who doesn’t know, but thinks he knows, and heartily disapproves, “but in the Smartmarks Wrestling Federation we expect our wrestlers to be sober when they come to shows. Unless they’re Kibagami, Bruce Blank or my sister,” he adds, “in which case it’s pretty much part of the deal. Anyway,” he continues, “gross misconduct such as this is a breach of the contract you signed with us, and while it’s tempting to send you out there and let the Geordie get a win for once, I’m afraid I have no real option but to call off the match and take appropriate measures.”

 

“Wha’, yurr gonna fine me?” Baker asks.

 

“Hardly,” Toxxic grins. “Turn around.”

 

Baker does so, and sees a small painted face staring solemnly up at him.

 

“Whoozat?”

 

“That’s President Ramu,” Toxxic informs him smugly before switching his attention to the young girl. “When you’re ready…”

 

“Urrk!”

 

“Now then,” the General Manager says, leaning down to speak into the ear of the goozled Las Vegas native, “if you’re very sorry for turning up for work intoxicated, and will be attending the next show clean and sober and ready for your match with Johnathan Clarke, which I’m rebooking… well, I advise against nodding, so some form of hand signal will suffice.”

 

Baker hastily flaps his hand.

 

“Thank you,” Toxxic grins, straightening up. “Thank you Ramu, that’ll be sufficient.”

 

The Japanese girl loosens her grip and Ragdoll staggers out of the office, a loud thud indicating when he collides with the frame of the outer door. The painted face turns to Toxxic.

 

“What?”

 

…

 

“Oh I don’t know, go outside and chokeslam a couple of emos or something,” the Englishman grunts in response to the unwavering stare. “Preferably ones who haven’t bought tickets.”

 

 

 

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The SWF presents...

 

13TH HOUR

 

 

LIVE to tape/DVD at 7pm CTR on Thursday 12th June from the Arena Monterrey, Monterrey, Mexico!

 

MAIN EVENT

NON-TITLE MATCH

Insane Luchador© vs Doctor Pirata

Insane Luchador had an outstanding match with Tod James Stuart at Duck And Cover, but there's no rest for our World Champion - he goes up against the SWF's one and only Venezuelan Sensation, Doctor Pirata! Pirata defeated Olaf Andersen in short order and then made (very) quick work of S.I.N. with a chokehold, so what can he do in a non-title environment against the Ill One?

 

Rules: Standard Singles

Word Limit: 5500

Send To: Toxxic

 

 

 

'Hollywood' Spike Jenkins© vs MANSON

Spike Jenkins survived an explosive Air Raid match at the last show to claim the SWF's Cruiserweight Title once again, and knowing Spike he wants to use that victory to springboard straight back after the World Champion who defeated him a month ago, Insane Luchador. Well, Jenkins gets his chance to build his case with this match against MANSON, who is coming off the back of a technical loss but (im)moral victory against Munich, where he battered his fellow veteran with a steel chair to the point of disqualification. These two have history of their own (but then again, MANSON has spent much of the last couple of years thinking he's a god and no-one likes Spike, so they tend to have a history with most people). Go to it, guys!

 

Rules: Standard Singles

Word Limit: 5000

Send To: King Cucaracha

 

 

 

Annie Eclectic vs Munich

Annie wasn't so lucky in the Air Raid match, and tonight she faces a challenge of a different sort - Munich, who outweighs her by, oh, roughly another Annie or so. Can The Hardcore Queen pull out another unlikely win of the sort she's produced before, or will Munich continue his winning streak that started with Arne Andersen and continued when MANSON lost the plot and played pattycake with a steel chair on Munich's head?

 

Rules: Standard Singles

Word Limit: 5000

Send To: Toxxic

 

 

 

The House Of Marvellous

The guest has yet to be confirmed, but Sir Marvellous has made it known that his show will feature on the card tonight.

 

 

 

Dance Dance Dragon vs KOJI Kitano

Special Guest Commentator - Jay Hawke

Triple D's woeful luck against TKO continues - granted, he technically won against TORU and Chris Card, but he got beaten down afterwards both times. At Duck And Cover the Extreme Cross Wizards fell to the superior cheating and/or teamwork of TKO, and then Dragon still got beat down afterwards. Hardly seems fair. Anyway, he gets another chance to get some revenge against KOJI. Odds are that Chris Card and Natasha will be at ringside... but so will someone else. The Franchise and Suicide King will be getting some company behind the table as former SWF International Champion 'The Dean Of Professional Wrestling' Jay Hawke will be making his return, albeit on the mic instead of in the ring. What does this mean? We don't know. We'll all have to find out.

 

Rules: Standard Singles

Word Limit: 5000

Send To: Toxxic (yes, I know I technically write KOJI. I won't be writing this, this is storyline development for whatever Landon and Hawke are plottin')

 

 

 

TORU Takahara vs Luke Breslin

Luke Breslin did the business against Chance Silver at Duck And Cover, but now he moves up in the world to a more challenging opponent - TORU doesn't have the best record in singles competition, being more of a tag specialist, but nevertheless The Japanese Hammer is well able to dish out a beating to whoever comes within reach. Hope you're getting used to the business fast, Luke.

 

Rules: Standard Singles

Word Limit: 5000

Send To: King Cucaracha

 

 

(send all marked matches, promos etc to Toxxic)

Edited June 13, 2008 by Toxxic

[Toxxic 0]

Pyrotechnics ignite at the top of the entrance ramp inside the Arena Monterrey as SWF 13th Hour comes to you LIVE (or from DVD) in Monterrey, Mexico! The camera pans across the arena showing the rabid Mexican crowd before cutting down to the announcing duo of Mak Francis and The Suicide King!

 

“Hola mi amigos!” laughs Mak Francis. “We are live on Monterrey, Mexico for SWF 13th Hour 2008! We have a major show for you tonight with a lot of high flying action and bone-cracking grappling!”

 

“Francis, why are we STILL in Mexico? I’m thirsty and I refuse to drink the water…and I’m constantly being hit on by fourteen year old girls.”

 

“They’re only trying to make a living, King.”

 

“Oh, Francis…you and your whores.”

 

“Tonight, we have a huge main event as the SWF World Heavyweight Champion, and someone who has been dominating every opponent that has stepped in the ring with him over the past several months, Insane Luchador takes on the mysterious Venezuelan, Doctor Pirata in a non-title bout!”

 

“Also tonight, we have another edition of The House of Marvelous! I love it, Francis!”

 

“We also don’t know who the guest is tonight, as Sir. Marvelous has been very hush, hush about it. But starting things off tonight is the return of…”

 

But before Francis can finish his statement, he is cut off by the lights in the arena beginning to flicker. Soon, the violent guitar riffs and the blaring drum work of The Agony Scene's "Scapegoat" blast through the PA system.

 

Abandon, broken and bleeding.

A feast for their eyes, a spectacle.

A martyr of the forsaken.

A scapegoat for their suffering.

 

Red strobe lights begin to flash at the top of the stage as the audience waits for their first glimpse at the newly crowned SWF Cruiserweight Champion.

 

Burn Me Alive…

 

GRRRRR

 

BURN ME ALIVE!

 

I FEEL THE HATRED BEHIND THEIR EYES!

BURN ME ALIVE!

IN EAGER CIRCLES TO WATCH ME DIE!

BURN ME!

 

“Well, look who is making his presence felt here tonight, Francis! It’s your so-called protégé and NEW SWF Cruiserweight Champion OF THE WORLD, Spike Jenkins!”

 

‘Hollywood’ Spike Jenkins steps out from behind the entrance curtain to a massive (negative) reaction by the crowd. He stand at the top of the ramp, wearing a black zipped-up sweatshirt with the word “CHAMPION” written across it in bold, white letters. With the hood covering his face, he holds his arms up in the air in a victorious pose.

 

*POW* *POW* *POW* *POW* *POW* *POW*

 

A series of gold explosions rip across the stage, behind the champion.

 

*POW* *POW* *POW* *POW* *POW* *POW*

 

Golden pyrotechnics shoot up from inside the ring posts, soaring straight up into a single point at the top of the arena.

 

*BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM*

 

An explosion erupts at the top of the arena, which sets off a chain-reaction, as red, white and blue confetti begins to rain down on the Mexican crowd. As you could predict, they don’t take too kindly to this.

 

“Oh boy…” says a worried Mak Francis.

 

“VETE A LA MIERDA! VETE A LA MIERDA!”

 

The Hollywood Superstar unzips his sweatshirt, revealing the SWF Cruiserweight title around his waist. He begins to make his way down the ramp, flipping off the crowd and pretty much enjoying the confetti falling from the sky. Spike makes his way up the ring steps and unstraps the title while standing on the ring apron. Pulling himself up onto the middle rope, Jenkins holds the championship belt over his head, much to the dismay of the crowd.

 

“The fans here in Mexico are known to be very wild during wrestling events. I’m not sure if doing this was the safest thing for Spike to do.”

 

Jenkins climbs over the top rope and into the ring. The ring announcer, Funyon, hands him a microphone and quickly exits the ring. The music dies down, but the confetti continues to fall from the rafters.

 

“HOLA! COMO ESTAS? HA HA!”

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“Che? No amor para el CHAMPION! HA HA!”

 

“VETE A LA MIERDA! VETE A LA MIERDA!”

 

“Spike obviously passed Spanish class in high school,” laughs the Suicide King.

 

“He’s just poking fun at these fans, King. I’m not sure what this is going to accomplish, but they are already riled up!”

 

Spike circles around the ring, looking out at the Mexican crowd. He finally steps into the center of the ring with a giant grin on his face. “Okay, seriously now, time for me to come out here and make my point. That requires me to speak English, the much superior language!”

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“Seventeen days ago, four hundred and eight hours ago, twenty-four thousand, four hundred and eighty minutes ago…I became, for the third time, the SWF World Cruiserweight Champion!”

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“This crowd is just getting louder and louder, Francis!”

 

“At Duck and Cover, I defeated three of the best cruiserweights in the world to win this title once again. Unfortunately, that was also in this dirty place called Mexico. I just can’t seem to get out of here!”

 

Jenkins pauses for a moment and looks around at the crowd. He chuckles to himself before continuing.

 

“Tonight, I have a NON-title match against Manson. But you have to understand, that isn’t my top priority at the moment. Right now, I’m focused on this piece of gold over my shoulder. That is why I am announcing here tonight, that the first show back in the great country of the United States of America, Next in Line, yours truly will be holding a special…ceremony; a crowning ceremony for me as the NEW SWF Cruiserweight Champion.”

 

Spike pats the championship belt on his shoulder and looks around at the very angry crowd.

 

“I am sick and tired of this place. It is not a place where the best wrestler in this company should be crowned a champion! Putrefacción en infierno, limo.”

 

Spike drops the microphone and spits on the ground. He looks around the arena in disgust as the crowd is now near rioting.

 

“I don’t believe this, King! Do you hear these people? What did he say to them?”

 

“They are damn near rioting and it’s only the opening segment of the show!”

 

Jenkins holds the title belt high above his head, as “Scapegoat” starts up again. The scene begins to fade to black, as Jenkins look out at the Mexican crowd with a cocky sneer on his face.

 

 

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

 

 

“Welcome back, fans,” Mak Francis says. “Tonight we’ve already seen the return of a devilish member of the roster—”

 

“Yeah, he rocks,” Suicide King chimes. ACDC’s “Thunderstruck” bellows brings the fans to their feet. Luke Breslin emerges onto the stage, spotlights racing around the arena and stopping on small pockets of fans each time “Thunder!” booms.

 

“La lucha siguiente es programada para una caída,” Funyon announces.

 

“Crimson is your type, I suppose,” Mak concedes. Luke moves back and forth on his way down the ramp, high-fiving fans before sliding into the ring and hopping to his feet, pumping his arms in the air. “We also witnessed the debut of former OAOAST wrestler Austin Baker.”

 

“Introducción primero, pesando 256 libras, de Philadelphia… LUUUKE BREEESSSLIIIIN!”

 

“And now we get to see newbie Luke Breslin crushed,” King cackles as the young wrestler hops onto a middle turnbuckle and acknowledges the appreciative fans.

 

“Luke fared well against Chance Silver last week, but he does have a taller order to deal with tonight.”

 

“That silver character was exactly that—a character. He had more to prove to whatever deity he whacked off to than he did to the fans and the locker room, and it caused his undoing,” King mentions as “Tribe” by Mad Capsule Markets brings fans to their feet again, but this time to boo and show their distaste while Chris Card and Natasha emerge from behind the curtain.

 

“Toru, on the other hand,” Mak begins. “Toru is not a character. He’s not out to entertain anyone, impress our fans, or get a paycheck. He’s out to win, out to beat whoever stands in his and TKO’s collective way.”

 

Toru comes onto stage as a guitar riff hits. The booing intensifies when Toru stands at center stage, his arms folded over his chest and his eyes scowling the outspoken crowd. A heavy *BOOM* outdoes the fans’ volume and ‘TRIIIIIIBE! Why don’t you strike, justify your mind!’ is followed by a pyrotechnic display.

 

“Y su opositor, pesando 264 libras, de Japan… TOOORUUU… TA-KA-HA-RAAAAA!”

 

He walks down the ramp, eyes fixed on Luke. Natasha waits at the bottom and gives Toru a smile. Chris Card stands by and applauds, offering Toru inspiring words. Natasha spins around Toru and slides his jacket off his large, meaty body. She moves again and finds herself face-to-face with Toru, extending her arms to remove his sunglasses and hold them for safekeeping.

 

“Toru looks determined, as usual,” Mak says.

 

“And you’re stating the obvious, as usual,” King teases. “This kid doesn’t look like he did last week.”

 

Toru has hopped onto the apron and jumps over the top rope, flipping Luke the bird the moment his feet hit the canvas. Luke is in his corner, eyeing his opponent, stretching his legs and loosening his nerves.

 

“Luke does look different, and for good reasons,” Mak says. “He’s taking on a man with a mean streak who has two SWF deviants outside the ring. He has an uphill battle.”

 

“Good. Luke seemed like he needed a reality check after his match with Chance. This place isn’t a walk in the park.”

 

*ding ding ding*

 

“Referee Brian Warner calls for the bell and we’re underway. Toru walks to the ring’s center. He’s just staring at Luke.”

 

“Well the kid better do something already,” King urges as Luke walks to meet Toru. Toru holds his hands out, fingers spread, and Luke accepts them, taking on the challenge of strength. Luke pushes against Toru with all his might. The Japanese Hammer doesn’t resist, but instead lets Luke nearly fall into him. Toru lifts his right leg and delivers a calculated knee to Luke’s exposed ribs.

 

“And Toru strikes first!” Mak says. “It was a painful one, indeed, as Luke is bent over favoring his ribs.”

 

“Another knee, to the shoulder,” King says. “When Toru hits, he REALLY hits. And Luke cowers into a corner.”

 

Toru remains on the offensive and walks to Luke, his last step evolving into a strong low kick to Luke’s shin. Luke falls to one knee and Toru hits a third knee, this time to Luke’s head, and Breslin falls completely, his back resting against the bottom turnbuckle. Toru moves himself to the opposite turnbuckle.

 

“Toru looks to be winding up…” Mak starts. “He’s off!”

 

“Full speed across and—OUCH! A far jump that ends with a low dropkick right into Luke’s ribs!” King says. “And Luke looks wasted. He falls off the turnbuckle completely and is laying in that corner, already broken by Toru.”

 

“Toru wasted no time on delivering some impactful attacks,” Mak commends. “Toru pulls Luke to his feet.”

 

Toru takes a hold of Luke’s hands and holds them in the same test of strength position they were in before. But Luke can barely respond. His feet can’t find the same spot twice, his knees are bent and he looks ready to fall again. Toru spits in Luke’s face before delivering a strong headbutt that sends Luke square onto his back.

 

“The headbutt sent enough of a message,” Mak says. “That disrespectful spit was just unnecessary! Insulting!”

 

Toru lifts his arms in the air in a show of arrogance and spins around, looking over the crowd. Loud boos come from all directions. Natasha, however, screams her support as Chris Card claps enthusiastically, a satisfied smile adorning his face. Toru walks to a corner and hops onto the top turnbuckle with ease. He smacks his knee and once again looks over the crowd.

 

“He’s taking his sweet time here! Luke is no quitter, and that’s something Toru should know before going into this match,” Mak comments. “Luke is stirring!”

 

Toru leaps. He gets significant air, and his delivery is impeccable. His knee drives into Luke’s head, and the victim returns to the same stillness that followed the headbutt. Toru blankets himself over Luke, and Brian Warner falls to the canvas at Luke’s head, smacking his hand ONE! TWO! THR—Luke spasms and his shoulder comes off the mat.

 

“Amazing!” Mak screams. “But Toru is up again… backs into the ropes… coming in again… into the air… a knee into the ribs!”

 

“And another cover,” King picks up as the referee drops again. “ONE! TWO! THR—what?!”

 

Toru gets to his feet, this time grabbing Luke and lifting him up as well. Toru grabs Luke’s arm and whips him into the rope. Luke ducks what would be a decapitating lariat and runs into the opposite ropes for more momentum. Chris Card hooks Luke’s legs and trips him up enough to bring Luke to the ground.

 

“Unnecessary, and completely unprovoked!” Mak yells while the referee leans over the top rope and points at Chris Card, verbally reprimanding him.

 

Luke gets to his feet, his body leaning against the ropes for support. Toru charges again, but just before hitting the lariat he so urgently desires, Luke drops to the mat like a ton of bricks, both his hands gripping the top rope and bringing it down with him. Toru spills over the lowered ropes.

 

“Toru falls to the outside,” Mak says. “And hits Chris Card on the way! Both men are in a heap!”

 

“Happy now?” King asks.

 

“Hardly. The moment Luke started getting the slightest shred of momentum for a chance at offense, that damn Chris Card sticks his nose where it doesn’t belong.”

 

“Natasha is helping untangle the two,” King says. “And it’s funny that Toru is to his feet already, and Luke is still struggling to his.”

 

Toru reaches into the ring and grabs Luke’s feet, tripping him to the ground. Luke is on his back, and Toru grabs him by the ankles and pulls him out with all his strength, the speed enough to zip Luke out far enough so he drops onto the outside mat with a thwack!

 

“Brian Warner is urging Toru to bring the action back into the ring,” Mak says. “But I doubt he’ll be listening.

 

“Why would he? It’s a lot easier to hurt Luke out here.”

 

“It seemed to me he was doing a grand job of hurting Luke inside the ring. And Warner is starting a ten-count here.”

 

ONE! Toru pulls a reluctant Luke to his feet and whips him.

 

TWO! Luke’s back hits hard into the barrier between him and the fans. A few tempted patrons offer hands on his shoulders and urge him on.

 

THREE! Toru interrupts the gathering. Instead of pulling Luke away, he keeps him in place, wrapping his large hands around Luke’s throat and strangling him.

 

FOUR! The fans turn from inspiring Luke to goading Toru. He ignores them and watches Luke as his eyes are shut and his fingers try to slide underneath Toru’s hands.

 

FIVE! “This is purely evil now, King. What is this accomplishing?” Mak asks. “I feel sick.”

 

SIX! “That might just be the burritos we had before the show. I’m also feeling a little… Ah, that’s better.”

 

SEVEN! Toru relents and pulls Luke away from the divider. He whips Luke again, sending him running the distance of the ring before Chris Card stops him mid-step. “Christ, that’s disgusting, King! Just… ugh, atrocious!” Mak exclaims after catching a whiff. “Card is turning Luke around here, letting him stand on his own accord. How courteous.”

 

EIGHT! Toru runs at full speed, arm extending before meeting Luke. The helpless wrestler falls onto his back, his legs coming off the mat after the impact but immediately falling back down.

 

NINE! “And look now, Chris Card AND Toru are helping Luke to his feet,” King says. “That really is courtesy. And they’re rolling him into the ring. Just in time. They must practice this.”

 

“Toru rolls in right behind him. But… Luke rolls again… and again, again,” Mak says almost dumbfounded. “I guess he’s got enough instinct to get away from Toru now.”

 

“He rolled all the way to the other side of the ring and dropped to the outside. And Toru is on his feet inside the ring, laughing!” King says. “One in a million, this guy…”

 

Toru turns around to find that Chris Card is already on the prowl. Luke is leaning desperately against the ring. He catches a charging Chris in his peripheral. Able to turn and get a leg in the air, Chris’ gut meets Luke’s boot. Chris keels over, and Luke folds his hands into a hammer and slams it against Chris’ spine. Chris falls to a knee, but Luke pulls him back up and hurriedly whips him along the apron. Chris’ back smacks into the steel steps.

 

“OUCH!” Mak screams. “Look out, Luke!”

 

“Toru’s got him back in his grasp,” King says. “With a fistful of hair, Toru is painfully pulling Luke onto the apron.”

 

Natasha tends to Chris Card by the steel steps. Toru delivers two punches to Luke’s skull, weakening Luke enough so that he finds support in the ropes. Toru runs into the adjacent ropes and comes back, hoping to deliver another lariat that will send Luke to the floor.

 

“Luke ducks it!” Mak says. “He’s up again. Toru turns around, comes back, and—Luke with his own knee to Toru’s midsection, delivered between the ropes!”

 

“It’s about damn time he actually hit Toru,” King mocks. “Luke grabs Toru with both hands at the back of the neck. And Luke drops! Toru’s neck just bounced off that top rope, and the big man falls into his back, clutching his throat! How unfair!”

 

Luke hops back onto the apron and climbs to the top turnbuckle. He doesn’t showboat to the crowd, but instead keeps his eyes fixed on Toru, who is slowly getting back to his feet, somewhat disoriented. Toru turns 180 degrees and Luke flies, his arm extended fully enough so that it drives through Toru, knocking him down again. Luke rolls out of his airborne attack and gets to his feet. The crowd is cheering as Chris Card is temporarily incapacitated and Toru recovers on the mat.

 

“Luke’s got some real momentum going,” Mak says. “But you can tell it’s not getting to his head. He’s back in fighting position. He’s watching Toru. He’s mapping his next move.”

 

“Toru’s not going to respond lightly to this.”

 

The big man is back to his feet, but not a moment later Luke rushes at him and delivers a flowing, seamless swinging neck breaker. Luke crawls atop Toru and hooks a leg as Warner drops down. ONE! TWO! Toru kicks out before the referee’s hand reaches its height.

 

“He’s out with ease,” King says. “And it looks like Chris Card is back on his feet. He and Natasha are circling the ring.”

 

“Like vultures, those two. Let’s see if Luke has the cunning to outsmart three-quarters of TKO.”

 

“Good luck, Bres.”

 

Luke pulls Toru up and whips the big man into the ropes. Toru is tripped up by a drop toe hold upon his return, and Luke stays close to the mat as he gets a hold of Toru’s left leg and applies a one-legged crab. Luke pulls back with all his might as Toru writhes underneath.

 

“Wear him down in the center of the ring, where TKO can’t get their greasy hands on him!”

 

“They must’ve had some of those burritos, too. Got a wet wipe, Mak?”

 

Natasha is quick to climb onto the apron and make her presence known. The referee is quick to fulfill his duty in the most ignorant way and focus all his attention on the pretty woman. Chris Card slides half his body into the ring and grabs both of Toru’s wrists. Toru is pulled within reach of the bottom rope, and Chris Card sticks a hand into his pocket and pulls out a tiny bottle. He untwists the cap and pours the shot into Toru’s open mouth. Natasha drops off the apron, still screaming at the referee for effect.

 

“What the hell kind of orchestrated devilry is this?!”

 

“The genius kind,” King responds.

 

The referee turns around to see Toru gripping the bottom rope. He taps Luke, who immediately releases the hold and turns Toru onto his back. Luke makes the cover. ONE! TWO! T—Chris Card grabs Toru’s foot and places it on the bottom rope.

 

“This is unbelievable!” Mak yells. “Even the referee has had enough.”

 

Brian Warner slides under the bottom rope to the outside. Fans cheer as Warner screams at Card and points at him, poking him in the chest with an authoritative finger. Card argues back, but it’s not long until Warner points towards the stage and yells “You’re OUT! Barred!” The ecstatic crowd watches Card slowly saunter to the backstage. Warner watches him with angry eyes.

 

“Yeah, get him out of here!” Mak emphasizes. “Let’s get a real wrestling match going, please.”

 

“Okay, fine,” King says. “Luke is pulling Toru to his feet and—OH NO WAY, GROSS!”

 

“Toru spits that damn sake! What was I thinking, a real wrestling match from this guy?”

 

Chris Card fades into the curtains and Brian Warner slides back into the ring. Luke is stumbling carelessly as Toru gets to his feet. He watches his temporarily blinded opponent until he feels it appropriate to pick him up into a fireman’s carry. Toru grabs Luke with both hands and lifts him up, over his head, before dropping Luke and simultaneously dropping himself to one knee. The other knee juts out at just the right position to catch Luke in the ribs. Toru pushes Luke off his knee and onto his back, covering him for a pinning attempt.

 

ONE! TWO! T—“Luke kicks out!” Mak screams.

 

“Don’t worry. Toru is quick to bring him to his feet again.”

 

He immediately gets in position for a suplex and floats Luke over, dropping him onto his back, shaking the ring with their collective weight. Toru gets to his feet, but leaves Luke lying on the mat. Toru’s feet find the top turnbuckle and he nimbly positions himself. Natasha cheers him on from the outside, and he glances at her before leaping to a great height, collapsing his body and extending it in a beautiful shooting star press that unfortunately does not connect.

 

“Luke rolls out of the way just in time!” Mak says.

 

“Toru just put all his weight into that, and you can tell it really hurt him.”

 

Luke doesn’t give him much of a chance to recover. The beaten Breslin pulls Toru up slowly and the two men stand before each other, neither of them able to stand square and offer any attempt of intimidation. Luke winds up and delivers a European uppercut that sends Toru a few steps backwards. Another one pushes him against the ropes. Luke whips Toru across the ring and bounces off the nearby ropes, gaining momentum before meeting Toru in the middle and delivering a strong spear. Luke’s wide shoulder takes the breath out of Toru, slams a couple of ribs and sends him onto his back.

 

“Effective offense from Breslin here,” Mak comments.

 

“And he’s going to the top rope again. Ballsy…”

 

Luke squats on the top turnbuckle. Natasha smacks her hands against the canvas, yelling for Toru to move. Luke’s short distance is enough to send his flying headbutt into Toru’s midsection. His head also takes some pain, but it’s not enough to prevent Luke from crawling on top of Toru and hooking the leg. ONE! TWO! THR—Toru kicks out just before the three count.

 

“Luke’s attempts to dissect Toru might be getting him closer and closer to victory,” Mak says.

 

“He’s pulling Toru up for more,” King observes. “But Toru shoots his arms up and exposes Luke’s midsection… a boot to the gut… Luke grabs it…”

 

“And a sudden enziguiri right to Luke’s skull takes him down!”

 

“Toru going for a smart cover…”

 

ONE! TWO! THR—Luke’s shoulder jolts up and Toru gets on his knees and runs a hand through his hair before pulling Luke to his feet. An Irish whip sends Luke into the ropes and Toru stands in the middle of the ring. Upon Luke’s arrival Toru lifts him for a spinebuster, but instead of falling with him, Toru remains erect and slams Luke’s back onto the canvas. Luke shows few signs of life as Toru turns and heads to a corner.

 

“No Through Road from Toru! He’s making his way to the top turnbuckle again,” says Mak. “His back to Luke, and…”

 

“AIR TORU!” King exclaims. “What a flawless moonsault!”

 

“Luke has just been crushed, literally. And Toru stays on top of him. ONE! TWO! THRE—WOW! This kid’s tank runs on E.”

 

“I wonder who he buys from…”

 

Toru gets to his feet and screams in Japanese frustration—the worst kind of frustration. He retreats to the corner and puts his arms against the turnbuckle, looking out to the crowd and shaking his head. Natasha yells something to him from the outside and a grin comes to his face. He turns and watches Luke.

 

“Breslin is on his stomach, his hands underneath, trying to bring himself off the mat,” Mak says. “And Toru is… standing in the corner. What’s he thinking, King? I know you’re evil, too.”

 

“He’s thinking of putting this one in the beg, in a very decisive way,” King says as Toru smacks his knee and yells “JOUSEISHIN!”

 

“Oh, Christ…”

 

Luke gets to his hands and knees no sooner than Toru charges across three-quarters of the ring. Consciously or not, Luke pulls back and ducks just enough to miss the charging knee. Luke’s recoil and Toru’s passing allow Luke to leap forward from his position on his knees and deliver a strong chop block to the back of Toru’s knee.

 

“Toru drops down!” Mak says. “But he’s getting up, albeit slower than usual. Luke is right there with him.”

 

“Toru turns to face Luke and… Breslin with a boot to the gut, Toru bends and… snap DDT from Luke,” King announces. “And a cover. ONE, TWO, T—Toru is out!”

 

Luke gets to his feet and immediately backs into the ropes. He takes a few quick steps before leaping off the mat and dropping back down, his knee falling onto Toru’s, causing The Japanese Hammer to curl up and favor the joint. Luke pulls Toru to his feet again and whips him against the ropes.

 

“Toru ducks a clothesline…” Mak begins. “And catches a turning Breslin with a quick neckbreaker!”

 

“Toru gets to his feet and grabs Luke’s legs,” King says. “A submission would be smart right now. Then he can probably deliver all the way with that vicious knee!”

 

“You’re sick, King. Luke’s legs are writing, knowing that they can’t afford to get stuck in a cloverleaf right now.”

 

“Luke grabs the back of Toru’s head as he’s bent over and… a thumb to Toru’s eye! How blatantly unfair!”

 

“Almost equal to the blinding sake…”

 

Toru removes himself from his tangling with Luke’s legs. Luke gets to his feet and runs into the ropes that Toru’s back faces. A bulldog brings Toru to the ground, but Luke pulls him up and whips him into the corner with most of his remaining strength. Luke charges in after him, hopping before reaching his target and sending his legs between the top and middle ropes, his right arm extended and colliding with Toru’s chest.

 

“Luke uses his arm to hold Toru in place while he climbs out of his predicament,” Mak says. “He places his feet firmly on the middle ropes on either side of Toru. And starts punching! ONE! TWO! THREE!”

 

The crowd picks up where Mak finishes. “FOUR! FIVE! SIX!” Luke is interrupted as Natasha jumps onto the apron and begins walking towards the action. The punching stops and Luke hops to the canvas, turning to meet her. He lifts his fist as a threat, bringing even louder cheers from the crowd. Natasha cowers away and Brian Warner steps between the two, pushing Luke backwards and warning him not to swing. The Ice Queen smiles, her black lipstick a stark contrast to her white teeth, and holds her middle finger up at Luke.

 

“Brian Warner isn’t much of a barrier; Natasha better be careful,” Mak says. “Meanwhile Toru is recovering and… climbing the turnbuckle?”

 

“It looks like Natasha’s plan is working. Luke’s an idiot…”

 

“Either that or Natasha’s a bitch.”

 

Luke gives Brian Warner a weak shove that moves him out of the way. Luke extends his arm and grabs Natasha by the hair, pulling her in and yelling at her. Natasha is not shaken, but cackling in spite of her position. The crowd still eats it up and begins a “HIT HER! HIT HER!” chant. Brian Warner chops Luke’s arm from underneath and the hold is released. Natasha drops back to the outside mat and watches on as Luke turns and receives a missile dropkick to the chest.

 

“Great air!” King screams. “And great delivery! That was some impact! Luke’s proximity to the ropes puts half his body under them.”

 

“Toru, with another assist that gave him enough time to set up offensive.”

 

“The beauty of friendship. Breslin should invest in some…”

 

Toru gets to his feet, but rather than continuing his offensive, he returns to the corner he just leapt from and begins untying the padding that covers the turnbuckle. Brian Warner is behind him, tapping his shoulder and trying to stop him. Toru ignores him. Meanwhile, Natasha sticks her hands under the bottom rope and finds Luke’s face while he lays injured on the mat. She claws at his eyes. Her fingers dig into Luke’s eyes until Toru finishes his business and tosses the padding to the outside. Natasha backs off just as Toru turns around, the referee doing the same. Luke is left reeling on the mat, grabbing his eyes while Toru pulls him to his feet.

 

“That woman is… is…” Mak trails off.

 

“Amazing!” King finishes. “It’s like she’s reading Toru’s mind. Toru’s pulling Luke to the corner. He’s going to bust Luke open with that exposed corner!”

 

“But Luke gets his foot in front of him, his boot on the rope, and stops the progress!” Mak says excitedly. “And an elbow into Toru’s gut. Another! Three for good measure!”

 

Toru releases his hold on Luke and backs off a bit. Luke stands back to full height and turns to face Toru. A boot into Toru’s gut bends him over, and Luke turns quickly, grabbing Toru’s head in one fluid motion and dropping down to deliver a sudden Thunderstruck.

 

“Toru’s been Thunderstruck!” Mak screams.

 

“Don’t cream your pants,” King says. “Luke’s got the cover, but what is Warner doing? Oh, that Natasha…”

 

“She’s on the apron again, halfway in the ring through the ropes this time!”

 

“Wanted to be a little closer to the action, I suppose.”

 

“Either way, Warner is not applying the three count. And Luke is getting up to deal with this.”

 

“Well at least the ref’s got Natasha back on the apron. One step at a time…”

 

Luke watches as Natasha slowly drops onto her knees and finally plants her feet on the mat. Brian Warner turns around to see Luke against the ropes across the ring from him and Toru sitting up, beginning his recovery. A running start and a baseball slide send Luke across the ring, his feet hitting Natasha in the chest and sending her into the divider. The fans are on their feet, cheering ecstatically as Luke returns to his feet. He looks down at the fallen Natasha and smiles satisfactorily while she grabs her head after it banged against the wall.

 

“That’s what she gets!” Mak says.

 

“And look what Luke is about to get,” King shoots back. “A pissed-off Toru!”

 

“Luke ducks a lariat! Toru turns around… another gut shot! NO! YES! THUNDERSTRUCK!”

 

Luke hurriedly covers after a second Thunderstruck. Brian Warner has no reason to ignore the count this time, and he drops to the mat. ONE! TWO! THREE! The crowd explodes and Toru pushes out of the pin at what would be a FOUR from the referee.

 

*ding ding ding*

 

“Y su ganador…” Funyon begins. “LUUUUKE BREEEESSSLIIIIIN!”

 

As Funyon announces the name, the crowd sees Chris Card hurrying down the ramp, accompanied by Koji. The cheers turn to boos as Card slides into the ring. He ends up right behind a celebrating Luke, and from his knees Card lifts his arm between Luke’s legs and delivers a low blow. Koji walks slowly up the steel stairs and steps into the ring while Card continues his assault. Luke is bent, grabbing his crotch, and Card stands to deliver a roundhouse kick that plants Luke onto his back.

 

“And I suppose you think this is necessary, too, huh King?” Mak asks.

 

“Well, TKO doesn’t take too kindly to losses. And I’m sure Chris Card is none too happy that he got expelled from the arena during that match.”

 

“Koji is in the ring, helping his partner to his feet. Toru looks spent, but you can tell he wants to inflict serious pain.”

 

Chris Card pulls Luke to his feet and lets him stand in the center of the ring, his stability wavering, an easy target for the two men who stand on either side of him. Koji and Toru each deliver swift roundhouse kicks to Luke, who falls to the mat once again in a heap. He rolls around in pain as the three men stand above him.

 

“This is torturous,” Mak says. “Wait a minute! From backstage, here comes Leo Breslin! With a steel chair!”

 

“He’s got no place here. He’s not on our roster!” King defends.

 

Koji taps Chris Card and points at the charging Leo. Card slides out of the ring, finding his feet just as Leo dives with the chair, its steel connecting with Card’s skull and sending him into the apron before he slides down onto the mat. Leo jumps onto the apron and sends the top rim of the steel chair into the gut of the approaching Koji. Instead of wrapping his hands around the back of Koji’s head, Leo plants the chair where his hands would be. He drops down and pulls Koji with him, his throat caught by the top rope and the back of his head smashed with the chair. Leo lands on a slowly recovering Chris Card with all his weight for good measure.

 

“Koji takes a painful maneuver from Leo Breslin!” Mak yells. “He’s on his back in the ring and Leo slides in, quick to get to his feet.”

 

The slower Toru, still reeling from the match, runs at him, but Leo takes aim and sends the steel chair into Toru’s skull, putting the big man down. Leo drops the chair and falls. He rolls his younger brother across the canvas. Luke responds and upon reaching the ropes, he slides out of the ring and his feet find the ground. Leo slides out after him and pulls his brother’s arm around his neck, helping him walk up the ramp before any possible retaliation.

 

“Leo Breslin just took out most of TKO,” Mak says. “And Natasha gets into the ring after her impactful meeting with the divider earlier. She can’t believe this devastation…”

 

“Well Leo had a steel chair. What kind of a savage is he!?” King asks.

 

“He’s Luke’s brother, and he couldn’t stand idly by while his brother took an undeserved beating after a hard-fought win. That chair barely equalized the situation…”

 

Luke and Leo disappear backstage as Natasha tends to Toru. Chris Card slides into the ring and moves over to Koji, who is nearly on his feet. The fuming group remains in the ring while the crowd cheers heavily at the unexpected turn of events.

 

“I’m satisfied, King!”

 

“Those Breslins will get what’s coming…”

 

“Believe it or not, Koji is participating in our next match against Dance Dance Dragon!”

 

“He’ll be fine. He’s a beast.”

 

“We’ll be right back, folks,” Mak says as the scene fades.

Edited June 14, 2008 by Toxxic

[Toxxic 0]

We return to the arena with a short-time having passed from our last match. In the ring, KOJI Kitano crouches in his corner with a fixed scowl on his face and one hand rubbing at the back of his throbbing head, while referee Sexton Hardcastle is busy laying down the law to Chris Card and Natasha. In the middle of all this, "Learning To Fly" by Pink Floyd is playing in the background, signalling the return of one Jay Hawke. Breezing past the ring with little acknowledgement of those in the ring, Jay shakes the hand of the standing Suicide King before doing the same with the ever-seated Mak Francis.

 

"Come on, show some respect would you?" King taunts towards Mak.

 

"Hilarious. Mister Hawke, good to see you back."

 

Hawke fixes on his headset and takes his seat.

 

"Gentlemen, good to see you both again." Hawke says, sounding at least half genuine.

 

 

"Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is set for one fall. In the ring with NATASHA and his manager, CHRIS CARD! He hails from Saitama Prefecture, Japan... weighing in at two hundred, nineteen pounds. He is one half of TKO... KKOOOOOOOOOJJJJIIIIIIIIIIIII... KKIIIIIIIIITTAAAAAAAAANNOOOOOOOOO!!!"

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

 

"Why did Funyon stop speaking Spanish all of a sudde..."

 

"SO! Jay, you join us just in time for this next match, do you mind me asking what you're out here for tonight?"

 

"Well as you know Mak, I've been out of action since way back in November, so I have a little catching up to do." answers Hawke. "Plus, it was decided between Commissioner Maddix and myself that I could add something to the commentary with my superior wrestling knowledge, so that's exactly what I plan to do. Looking forward to a fine technical match to get my teeth into."

 

Right on (mis)cue, "Hung Up" by Madonna begins to pump through the arena and down go the lights. The holographic DDR stage hovers over the floor in front of the entrance way, soon to be filled by the dancing feet of the Dance Dance Dragon. Backed by his Dragonesses, Triple D tears up the imaginary dancefloor while multi-coloured strobes flash wildly all around him before breaking off and heading to the ring.

 

"And, his opponent! He comes to us from Heaven's Dancefloor... weighing in at two hundred and nineteen pounds! This is THE DANCE... DANCE... DDRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR - AAAAAAAAGGOOOOOOOOOOONN!!!"

 

"YYYEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!"

 

DDD high-fives some fans, but pays most of his attention to the duo in the ring. No love lost after the past few months he slides into the ring, at which point Chris Card ducks out to the apron and motions for the referee to keep him back.

 

"Dragon has had his problems with the ranks of TKO, ever since Hell Freezes Over back in the month of April. He holds a singles victory over KOJI's partner TORU and a DQ victory over Card, but TKO have roughed The Strong Style Party Animal up on numerous occassions and picked up victory in a lucha-libre six-man at our last show against Dragon and team-mates."

 

"I'm... I'm sorry, am I missing something?" Hawke interrupts. "Who, or what, in the hell is this?"

 

"Who, Dance Dance Dragon?"

 

"You say that like it's something perfectly normal."

 

"He's been doing very well in your absense actually Mister Hawke. He has only two defeats to his name, one of those being last show."

 

With some last words of advice Card drops to the floor besides Natasha, getting a little agitated with Hardcastle's suspicious nature of him. He tells the referee in no uncertain terms to watch the match and not him, as KOJI adopts a mixed martial arts style fighting stance and moves out of his corner.

 

 

*DINGDINGDING!*

 

Dragon's fighting stance is a little more unorthodox than KOJI's, bopping back and forth as KOJI moves towards him. KOJI fires a low kick towards Dragon's legs, more of a warning than anything as he misses by a good few inches. Taking heed, Dragon backs up a step as KOJI advances. Another warning kick is thrown, but this time Dragon responds by teasing KOJI, breaking out into the 'running man'.

 

"I think Dragon is telling Kitano, 'U Can't Touch This!'"

 

"This is what they've brought me in to commentate on!?" Hawke despairs.

 

"I'm so sorry Jay, I really am." King quickly empahises. "It could be worse though. This is what I'm stuck with twice a month!"

 

Not in the slightest bit amused by this, KOJI grits his teeth and fires off a high kick for real but Dragon breaks out of his dance routine in time to duck underneath it. Running the ropes, Dragon rebounds and goes underneath a back elbow. KOJI resets himself and shows his own speed and quickness with an evasive leapfrog. Down onto his back he then drops, looking to initiate a monkey flip. Dragon sees it coming though and CARTWHEELS out of the path of KOJI's upturned legs before diving on top with a jacknife pin...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

KOJI kicks his legs free but Dragon shifts himself back on the chest without them...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

Showing impressive leg strength, KOJI sets and bridges up off his back. Turning with Dragon, the arms are hooked and Triple D finds himself on the Backslide. Thinking quickly, Dragon kicks off the canvas and backflips over KOJI's frame then LINDYHOPS his way away from the forgiveably bemused Kitano!! KOJI shakes himself back to life and charges towards the 50s inspired Dance Dance Dragon...

 

 

*WHAM!*

 

 

...only for DDD to Electric Slide by way of a sidestep, causing KOJI to run himself into the turnbuckles waiting behind!!

 

"Top marks for style on that one!" applauds Mak.

 

Schoolboy on the winded KOJI...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

No!

 

"What on earth is going on here." Hawke asks for the rest of humanity.

 

Both men back up and KOJI throws a straight kick to the gut only to have it caught by Triple D. Dragon walks him out into the centre of the ring, leading his opponent on one standing foot. Knowing what's coming, KOJI pleads for forgiveness and starts bowing (one leg still) in a sign of peace. No mas though and Dragon executes the Dragon Screw!

 

"Oh lord, a wrestling move!" exclaims Hawke... before Dragon inexplicably makes a pinfall...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

T...

 

Kickout.

 

"One wrestling move. Who goes for a pin after a dragon screw!?"

 

"Better than a chopblock." argues Francis.

 

Dragon waits for KOJI to get back up before rocking him with an elbow strike. Shouting out in anger, KOJI responds with an overhand chop to the chest. The bodysuit absorbs some of the sting allowing Dragon to strike back with another elbow. KOJI goes to the back of the knee with a kick, then gets his guard up to block another elbow, before pulling DDD down with a legsweep. With Dragon down and prone, KOJI screams out "BUG GO SQUISH!", perhaps misunderstanding what a dragon actually is. See, it's hard to squish a dragon. Even a Dance Dance one, avoiding three attempts at ground axe kicks before a fuming KOJI bends down to grab a hold of him and gets taken down with an inside cradle!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

No!

 

As soon as he's off his shoulders, out of the ring slides KOJI, ranting and raving in his native Japanese tongue at his lack of success so far. Card quickly jogs over to try and calm him down, while the jiving Dragon dares him to step back inside.

 

"DRA - GON!"

"DRA - GON!"

"DRA - GON!"

"DRA - GON!"

 

"This crowd in Monterrey going wild for The Dance Dance Dragon! And KOJI can't get anything going so far."

 

Card disregards the rules of wrestling and calls for a timeout from the referee. Smiling, Hardcastle just keeps on with his ten count.

 

"Jay, any comment?"

 

"What is there to comment on?" snaps Hawke. "I said I was out here to use my wrestling knowledge, when we actually see some wrestling I'll do just that. So far, all we've witnessed are antics and schenanigans and to be honest I'm a little insulted at being assigned to watch this fool."

 

"I think that's a little harsh..."

 

"Come on Mak," King buts in, "when you're stealing moves from Grease in a wrestling match then clearly something is amiss. Take it from a true professional like Jay Hawke."

 

"Well it may not be to everybody's tastes, but there's no arguing that it's effective, you only have to look at Dragon's win-loss record to tell that." Mak argues again.

 

With the words of his manager ringing in his ears KOJI slides back into the ring. He baits Dragon in but keeps close to the ropes... the reason becoming clear when Hardcastle is called in to keep Dragon back, distracting The Masked Dance Assassin for a crucial second allowing KOJI to execute a drop toehold across the middle ring rope!

 

"Ah, very clever, great ring positioning." Hawke approves.

 

"So you're willing to call that?"

 

"A drop toehold is a wrestling move last time I checked."

 

With Dragon hung up and not anything to do with his theme music, KOJI takes a step up onto his back. Standing on the shoulders he grabs the top rope with one hand and looks out into the distance with his other as if on the high seas.

 

"ONE!"

"TWO!"

"THREE!"

"FOUR!"

"FI..."

 

KOJI breaks, using the donwrigh bizarre excuse of looking out for low flying birds to distract Hardcastle while Chris Card takes over on the choke from the floor!

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

 

"And it didn't take Card long to get involved again." groans Mak. "You'd have thought after what happened in the last match Hardcastle would have thrown him straight back out before the bell."

 

"That's profiling." King states.

 

"If the cap fits..."

 

Back over to the corner goes Card to rejoin his innocent conversation with Natasha. Meanwhile KOJI delivers a stomp the spine, then pulls Dragon off the ropes. Irish whip and a standing dropkick puts Dragon down. Cover...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

No!

 

Catching Dragon on the way up, KOJI gives his opponent a helping hand before using two less helpful hands to snapmare him back down onto his BUTT...

 

 

*SMACK!*

 

 

...and deliver a kick to the back of the head!

 

"Let me tell you from experience, being kicked in the back of the head is no fun and even less when it's from someone like KOJI Kitano." reminisces Hawke. "Not least because you're just as likely to get spat on or flipped off before the room's stopped spinning."

 

A very apologetic KOJI doesn't spit or flip this time though. Infact he holds his hands up to the referee in sorrow for his hard kick. He approaches Dragon with his hands up and crosses his heart on his good intentions, just worried about possibly swelling to the back of the head and trying to aleviate it by loosening Dragon's mask a little.

 

"ONE!"

"TWO!"

"THREE!"

 

Hardcastle doesn't buy it either and prevents the unmasking, despite KOJI's pleas of innocence.

 

"I'm sure Card, after all the issues with Dragon in the past two months, would love for KOJI to carry out the ultimate humilation and unmask him here tonight." predicts Mak.

 

"Good. I've no time for masked wrestlers." Hawke sneers.

 

After convincing the referee he's not going to go for the mask again KOJI is allowed to go back after Dragon. And after he sneaky attempt to hook a headlock and untie the laces out of Sexton's sight fails, KOJI decides to actually leave the mask alone. After a kick to the gut KOJI backs off the ropes, delivering a clothesline to drop Triple D. Pulling him back up by the arm, KOJI then wrings it and holds on with a wristlock as he backs towards a corner. KOJI climbs the turnbuckles and makes sure to get his balance fully before walking down the ropes, DDD's wrist in one hand, his other upturned with a middle finger for the audience. After making it halfway down the rope KOJI then comes off, hooking Dragon's head with a satellite headscissors on the way down!

 

"Now that was impressive." applauds King.

 

"Absolutely." applauds Hawke. "A little risky for my liking, but it all culminated in a wrenching of the neck from a high and awkward angle and a landing on the head he's already softened. Plus the middle finger was a nice touch."

 

"Absolutely."

 

"This must be what surround sound sounds like." sighs Mak.

 

Ending up across the opposite side of the ring Dragon lays by the ropes holding his head. KOJI strolls slowly over to him and shifts him over with his foot. Springing up off the middle rope, he then comes down with a kneedrop to the side of the neck! And a second time! Lateral press...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

Foot on the ropes. KOJI swats it away though and yells for another count...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

No!

 

KOJI quickly pulls Dragon back up. Shoving him against the ropes, KOJI throws a high roundhouse from the right side. Dragon gets an arm up to partially block, as KOJI throws one from the left. Same result, but KOJI keeps throwing the kicks and soon enough the blocks are less and less spirited and DDD takes more and more of the kicks.

 

"This is just an onslaught against the ropes, the referee needs to step in here!" calls Mak, just as that happens. Of course, this gives Chris Card a window to get involved and he quickly jumps to the apron, grabbing a hold of Dragon's head...

 

 

 

...and getting knocked to ringside with a back elbow!!

 

"YYYEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!"

 

"Card still feeling the effects of the Breslins, I think his trusty cheating sense has been slowed down a little."

 

As Card hits the floor, Dragon turns to KOJI and aims for his jaw with a running palm strike. KOJI is much more up to speed than his boss was though and takes control of the thrusting arm, allowing him to manoeuvre behind Triple D and hook his head to deliver a High Angle Back Suplex! Dragon lands high on the shoulders and grabs his neck as KOJI covers...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

Kickout!

 

"Good execution on the suplex." analyses Hawke. "Simple move but very effective."

 

"And KOJI has turned this match in his favour after an unsteady start."

 

"It's a simple case of substance over style. It's clear this Dragon character is high on style and low on substance from where I'm sitting. Where-as KOJI is high on both."

 

KOJI pulls Dragon to his feet again, backing him up in the corner. Dragon already looks quite weakened but KOJI delivers a couple of kicks to the upper body just to be sure his opponent is where he wants him. Backing across the ring, KOJI then lets out a crude rallying cry to be unspecified before running in with a high knee in the corner. Hooking up the head, KOJI then displays more of his limited English, almost all of it curses, before he runs Dragon out of the corner with a Bulldo... NO! On the way up, KOJI gets caught and planted with a Blue Thunder Bomb!!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

NO!

 

"That was some counter, don't you think?"

 

"I'll admit that was quite good. But let's not go overboard with the praise until he follows it up with something that isn't a dance move."

 

Despite the counter KOJI is first to his feet, with Dragon reliant on the ropes. Or so it would seem, as KOJI charges at him only to get launched over the top with a backdrop. KOJI thinks quickly and lands safely on the apron. KOJI then grabs a hold of the tassels on the back of Triple D's mask and quickly starts to tangle them around the top rope in an effort to tie him up! Before he can successfuly tie the knot though, an elbow catches him in the jaw. KOJI hangs onto the rope to avoid falling ala his manager earlier. But Dragon uses that to his advantage. Pulling on the rope Dragon brings KOJI in the hard way, right onto his shoulders infact. In the fireman's carry, KOJI is then carried away from the ropes and thrown up, caught on the way down with a hard punt kick to the ribcage!!

 

"OOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

 

With KOJI hurt, Dragon runs the ropes... and gets tripped by Natasha!

 

"Oh come on!" groans Mak. "How many times is that tonight she or Card have gotten involved!?"

 

"The beauty of two TKO matches instead of one." King smiles.

 

Luckily for Dragon he's merely hobbled rather than tripped, staying on his feet. After casting a masked look down at her he refocuses and runs at KOJI again. KOJI has recovered by now though and times a spinning back kick perfectly to connect with Dragon's stomach. Hooking his opponent up, KOJI then follows up with a Brainbuster to bring Triple D back down on his head again! Cover...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

NO!

 

"KOJI sticking to a particular bodypart. That's wrestling I can admire." notes Hawke.

 

KOJI doesn't waste too much time arguing, but does give Dragon a couple of slaps. KOJI then gets himself out to the apron, proclaiming "GAME OV-AH!" as he cuts a thumb across his throat and heads up top.

 

"KOJI taking a risk now."

 

Up climbs Dragon, not quickly enough to trouble KOJI though. He sets himself up top and launches high, coming down with an impactful Missile Dropkick that lays Dragon clean out! Having gotten to his feet, Card isn't satisfied yet though and calls for more.

 

"Well the risk paid off, but Card isn't done with this yet for some reason."

 

"I think he's still got the Breslins on his mind." King theorises.

 

KOJI pulls Dragon back up as instructed and directs him towards a corner, whipping him into the turnbuckles. The force of impact bounces the weary Dragon back out, so KOJI whips him across into the opposite corner. Again Triple D staggers out, this time into a kick. Smile on his face, KOJI paintbrushes Dragon across the back of the mask a few times to Card's clear approval. After another kick, he then hooks hold of Dragon's head and sets him for a suplex, lift... NO! Dragon squirms free of the lift and lands on his feet. Fighting KOJI off, he delivers an elbow strike. Another. And a third. Dragon then quickly turns to the turnbuckles and scales them, bottom to middle and middle to top...

 

 

 

...at which point KOJI lunges forward and crotches him up top!!

 

"OH! Looked like Dragon was going for that Moonsault Press, but KOJI had it scouted!"

 

"And what a stupid move to go for in that position." criticises Hawke. "Cornered, you have to grab a hold or at least get out into the centre, not try and run up the ropes for crying out loud!"

 

With Dragon up top, KOJI sees a chance and pulls himself up onto the middle rope. After driving some elbows down into the neck KOJI then looks to get himself up top.

 

"And now, KOJI could be looking for the K-Spike!"

 

Getting one foot on the top rope KOJI holds onto Dragon's mask for balance. But back comes an elbow from Dragon to the ribs. Dragon throws back another elbow. And another, fighting for his life in a dangerous position. Struggling to stay on the ropes KOJI wobbles but manages to hang on. He gets his foot back on the top rope and goes again for the second foot... but Dragon swings high with an elbow, catching KOJI high on the temple... and sending him crashing to the canvas!

 

"YYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHHH!"

 

As KOJI hauls himself back up, Dragon adjusts himself up top into a less uncomfortable position. Turning away from the crowd he then takes flight, wiping KOJI out with a Flying Crossbody Block!

 

"YYYYEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!"

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

NO!!

 

"Dragon is coming back Jay, you have to admire the tenacity."

 

"He jumped on somebody from somewhere high. So what? Anyone can do that."

 

Both men up and KOJI strikes first with a roundhouse kick. Dragon manages to get his arms up to block effectively though, then boots KOJI and runs the ropes. Down drops KOJI, but Dragon stops as soon as he jumps over the Japanese roadblock. DDD then lifts KOJI up into a fireman's carry and spins him for a few revolutions with an Airplane Spin!

 

"Dragon using the Speed Modifier!"

 

"Another ridiculous move." groans Hawke.

 

"Come on Jay, it doesn't get more 'old school' than an airplane spin."

 

"Doesn't mean it's not a ridiculous move. It looks neat, but he's doing as much harm to himself as to his opponent."

 

Setting KOJI down, Dragon staggers around a little himself before getting back his bearings and scooping KOJI up. Simple bodyslam places Kitano in the middle of the ring. Stood at the head, Triple D leans in towards his opponent and taunts him by kindly informing him that 'you can't see me'. Off the ropes, Dragon then jigs to a stop, dusting off the shoulder... and swinging his arm down violently across the chest with a lariat varation on the horizontal opponent!!

 

"YYYEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!"

 

"What was that!?" Hawke and King exclaim almost in unison.

 

"The Strong Style Shuffle!"

 

"You know, that's not so much an embarrassment to professional wrestling as an abortion! Awful. Just... just awful."

 

"...uh, here's the cover."

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kickout!

 

With KOJI still feeling the effects of Dragon's rally, The Masked Dance Assassin busts some DDR moves in excitement before giving the signal for the Newbie Killer!

 

"Uh-oh."

 

Seeing this, Card and Natasha suddenly launch into action on the floor. Stalking around ringside on opposite sides they put the plan into motion. Card climbs onto the ring apron and gets the attention of referee Hardcastle. Meanwhile, Natasha climbs to the apron out of sight, close to the now distracted Dance Dance Dragon.

 

"Yeah, uh-oh is right." smiles King.

 

Dragon starts to make a move towards Card, but just in time Natasha grabs his attention. As soon as he turns around, he then finds Natasha swinging a LEAD-PIPE towards his head...

 

 

 

 

...but he CATCHES IT unlike last month!!

 

"YYYYEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

"Uh-oh!" cries King, genuinely this time, as Natasha quickly releases the pipe and jumps to the floor in hope of safety!

 

With the lead-pipe in hand, it doesn't take him long to decide what to do with it. He tosses it aside and lands a boot on KOJI, scooping him up onto his shoulders... but loses him...

 

 

 

*SMACK!*

 

 

...AND GETS CAUGHT WITH A ROUNDHOUSE TO THE BACK OF THE HEAD!!

 

"There's the knockout!" calls King.

 

KOJI flips Dragon over and Card cuts himself off in mid-sentence to allow Hardcastle to count...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NO!!!

 

"YYEEEEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!"

 

"There's the heart and the resilience we've seen so often from The Dance Dance Dragon!"

 

KOJI briefly stalks after the referee before deciding he's better staying on Triple D. Pulling him to his feet, KOJI trips him right back up with a double leg takedown. Stepping through the legs, KOJI then starts to tie the feet around his looking to apply the surfboard and show the DDR enthusiast what a stomp is really good for. But, before he can turn Dragon over, The Strong Style Party Animal reaches up, pulling KOJI into an inside cradle...

 

"Could have him!"

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

NO!

 

"Only two! Great wrestling move from Dragon."

 

Hawke just grunts at the suggestion, as KOJI winds up with another roundhouse kick. Dragon ducks underneath though, catching KOJI unawares with a quick palm strike uppercut. The shot knocks KOJI for a loop and as he turns around back towards his opponent, Dragon has backed up in order to deliver his trusty Running Palm Strike!

 

"Oh what a shot!" exclaims Mak, as KOJI is knocked off his feet to a loud cheer from the Monterrey crowd.

 

Dragon turns to the crowd and signals, in his own dancing way, that the end is nigh.

 

"And now it may be time for the Newbie Killer!"

 

"What the hell is a Newbie?" groans Hawke. "What sort of a name for a move is that anyway!?"

 

Watching KOJI stagger to his feet, Dragon places the boot in the gut to double him up. Turning back to back, he hooks up the arms and twists KOJI into position, elevating him up...

 

 

 

...and all the way over! KOJI lands on his feet behind Dragon and before Triple D can react, he finds himself trapped in the Straightjacket Choke!

 

"K-CLUTCH!"

 

"Let's see him dance his way out of this." sneers Hawke.

 

The sneering soon disappears however, as Dragon does just that, running forwards towards the corner in front of him and ducking his head at the last second to send KOJI face first into the top turnbuckle!!

 

"YYYEEEEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!"

 

KOJI staggers backwards and with the hold broken, Dragon quickly runs up the turnbuckles before taking flight, crashing down on KOJI with the Moonsault Press to the shock of Card and Natasha! They stand shell-shocked amongst the crowd rising to their feet, Hardcastle diving into position...

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

They both think of leaping in for the save...

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!!!

 

 

...but too late!

 

"YYYEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

"Dragon scores the pin! What a victory!"

 

Dragon rolls immediately out of the ring in good knowledge that Card will be on his way. Sure enough, Card slides in but is too late to catch Dragon and ends up taking his frustrations out on the bottom rope with Triple D dancing the victory dance below him!

 

"And Dragon's dealt with TKO enough times to know when to get out of dodge by now! Let's get the official word."

 

 

*THUD!*

 

*DINGDINGDING!*

 

"Ladies and gentlemen, your winner of the match... THE DANCE... DANCE... DDRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAGGOOOOOOOOOOONN!!!"

 

As Dragon celebrates with the Monterrey crowd, the thud heard is that of Jay Hawke's headset. Hawke can be seen marching off down ringside on the opposite side of the ring to the celebrating Dragon, hands on hips. In the ring Card has a similar posture, fuming at his 0 - 2 night.

 

"Well, thanks to Jay Hawke for joining us I guess." shrugs Mak. "Shame he didn't stick around for some post-match analysis, I'd like to hear his call on that gorgeous moonsault we just saw."

 

"Hey, when you've got to vomit, you've got to vomit. He obviously hasn't built up an immunity to these moments like me."

 

"I don't know what his, or for that matter your, problem is but I doubt there's enough time in the world to cover that. So let's just congratulate the Dance Dance Dragon on his victory and move it along, shall we?"

 

"No way." snaps King. "It was a fluke victory, nevermind that KOJI got attacked before the match even started by a guy not even on the roster. Congratulations my BUTT. I'm with Jay, I'd be storming out in a show of solidarity if I didn't have a contract to anchor me to this damn seat."

 

"Melodramatic as ever, thank you."

 

Dragon continues his celebrations as Hawke disappears through the curtains and we disappear to our next match...

[Toxxic 0]

Set up in the middle of the ring, the faux Doric pillars, the love seat, the massive presence of Tracy Bruner and the smiling confidence of Sir Marvelous... it can only be time for the House Of Marvelous! Marv has the stick, of course, and addresses the crowd over a massive round of boos, “Welcome to the House, Marvelous fans. Without further ado let me introduce my guest... the Hitman, the man who leaves you in a pool of your own blood. Ladies and gentlemen... SIN!”

 

I'M SO HOOOOOOOOOD!

 

DJ Khaled's voice rings out around the arena, but SIN's entrance music is interrupted by a voice over the PA.

 

“There has been a change to your advertised program.”

 

The voice is instantly recognizable. The mangled South Pacific vowels. The slight additional vowel sound at the end of the sentence. The deep Maori growl. The SmarkTron flicks into life and a quick glance at Da Marv's face shows his concern at the image shown – SIN lying in a pool of his own blood backstage, his t-shirt ripped to shreds as if he'd been flayed. Suddenly some familiar hard electronic beats fill the arena, accompanied by a roar of approval from the crowd as two men step into the entrance area.

 

HEY HEY HEY I'M GUILTY

HEY HEY HEY I'M GUILTY

HEY HEY HEY I'M GUILTY TOO

 

“You see it appears SOMEONE had a little accident backstage,” continues Va'aiga from his position at the top of the entrance ramp, “Remember kids, gardening equipment can be dangerous.” The second, silent figure of Dace Night holds up his Weedwhacker to another approving roar.

 

Sir Marvelous moves his microphone towards his lips only to be sharply interrupted by The Maori, “Best advice, Marv, keep your trap shut. You're in enough trouble already, don't make me want to kill you any more than I already do.” The Violence Distribution Network begins to walk down the entrance ramp, Va'aiga still holding the mic, Dace still holding the Weedwhacker.

 

”You see, you came up with this real smart plan. Take out Da Maori. Which you managed 2 on 1. Take out Dace Night while Da Maori wasn't there to back him up. Which you also managed. But here's where you missed a little joined up thinking. What the fuck did you have planned when we came back? You're not dumb so you'd have to have known that the VDN was gonna come back, and come back pissed off!”

 

Va'aiga and Dace keep walking towards the ring. Bruner stands in front of Sir Marvelous, shielding him but Marv decides to back off slowly towards the ropes. Va'aiga continues, “See now you're in debt. For taking me out you're owed a beating. For taking Dace out you're owed a beating. But let's be fair about this. Here at the VDN we can help you out. We can help you consolidate all your beatings into one single manageable shitkicking!” Dace nods in agreement.

 

“See it's like this. You take us out two on one, maybe you thought we wouldn't. Maybe you thought we don't play by those rules. Ask SIN when, scratch that, IF he comes round. You blindside us to get an advantage, maybe you thought we didn't play by those rules. Ask SIN. You take us down with weapons. Maybe you thought we didn't play by those rules.”

 

Dace starts the Weedwhacker which makes a loud brrrrrrr sound as it's flaying appendages begin lashing out at the air.

 

“Ask SIN. Then maybe ask if he regrets playing Hired Gun for you. So we now have a situation. I think we need to find a solution. You want the tag team titles? After we take out Chris Card's Wrestling Circus you can have your shot. Cos you like to break the rules let's make it... a No Disqualification match? Sounds good doesn't it. Oh and that means it's in your best interests to stay the fuck out of our bidness until the match. And THAT means you better start backing the fuck up RIGHT NOW!”

 

Va'aiga and Dace get to stepping towards the ring. Dace swings the Weedwhacker around as Sir Marvellous calls off Bruner, and they slide out of the ring and watch with a look of mild concern as Dace and Va'aiga slide into the ring.

 

“Now you got this big match coming up, so it's important to scout your opponents, right? Well tonight you get a little demonstration,” Va'aiga pauses while he picks up the steel chair Marv was sitting on, “Of what the VDN is capable of....” The Maori trails off as Dace Night begins ripping chunks out of one of the styrofoam pillars with the Weedwhacker! Va'aiga turns to the other pillar and SPLATS it with an enormous chair shot! Having dropped the mic Va'aiga turns and points at the love seat and calls out towards Dace “GRAVEDIGGER!” Va'aiga lifts the pillar and drapes it across his back, it's legs over Va'aiga's shoulders. Dace puts the Weedwhacker down and grabs the love seat, and the air sit out hitting it with a simultaneous BEACH BREAK AND TOMBSTONE PILEDRIVER! The seat splinters and cracks and Va'aiga and Dace stand over the fallen bits of set, Dace throwing the crossed horns and Va'aiga the Shaka Sign. Sir Marvelous looks on in horror, Tracy Bruner without a shred of emotion as the VDN stand tall in the ring and Va'aiga offers one final thought...

 

“BOO-YAH!”

[Toxxic 0]

The scene cuts back to ringside, Funyon awaiting his cue to announce the next match. Quick, hard guitar fills the arena, "Phantom of the Opera" by Iron Maiden pounding through the seats. Pyro shoots off from the top of the entrance ramp as a grainy highlight reel of an old face from WF's past begins to play on the SmarkTron.

 

"The next bout is set for one fall," begins Funyon, "Introducing first, from Chicago, Illinois..."

 

Just as the SmarkTron video clears up, the man himself walks through the entrance ramp. Fans yell even louder as Munich steps out towards the ring with a purposeful stride.

 

"... and weighing in at two hundred sixty five pounds... MUUUUUUUUUNIIIIIIIIIICH!"

 

Mid-ramp, Munich raises his fists in the air, garnering another round of cheers... which quickly turn to boos as a white and pink blur comes out of nowhere and strikes Munich from behind! He staggers forward, revealing none other than the Queen holding her Bokken.

 

"What?" sputters Mak, who had just started drinking his diet FrostDew™ when it happened, "Munich barely got halfway down the ramp before... Annie Eclectic?"

 

"And Allison behind her as well, directing the attack!" exclaims King, "I mean, it's certainly not original but it's effective."

 

"You would know..."

 

"You don't become King... or Queen without effective strategizing."

 

Indeed, at the top of the ramp Allison Onita leans forward, barking... something in Japanese towards her sister. Annie swings down again across the back of Munich, doubling the big man over. Sneering at the hairy figure before her, she grins sadistically as she steps back - aims - then strides forward with a soccer-style kick straight between his legs!

 

"Effective strategizing?" asks Mak.

 

"Did you see that kick? I think Munich's right testicle might have gone about forty yards right there!" says King chuckling.

 

Nick Soapdish shuffles through the ropes and heads out towards the train wreck on the ramp. Stepping back, Annie measures Munich's diminished height and launches herself forward. Eclectic grabs her opponent's head midair and crashes down on the steel... Munich's headfirst. Onita jots some notes on her clipboard, ignoring the jeering fans. Soapdish reaches the two fighters and begins to berate the Queen for her early attack.

 

"I ask again, all this money," begins Mak, "All this research into a supposed excellent training plan that basically boils down to 'Cheat'?"

 

"Hey, you have to be good to cheat in wrestling AND in venture capitalism!" says King.

 

"...what?"

 

Annie drags Munich to his feet sharply by the neck, the hairier of the two fighters struggling to keep his feet under him. Eclectic wraps him in a loose front facelock and begins stepping back - keeping Munich between herself and Soapdish as she drags the big man towards the ring. Onita rushes forward, tapping the official on the shoulder. Nick shrugs the tap off, turning sharply to yell at the twin who is obviously there... and also obviously trying to distract him from Annie snapping back and driving Munich headfist into the steel again!

 

"Oh come on!" says Mak, "This is just too much, flat out disrespect from someone calling herself a Queen? The audacity is amazing!"

 

"There's more to this than you think," says King, "I mean look at the co-ordination, the small timeframe they use... they're twins, I bet they have that crazy mind link stuff, you know?"

 

"...I say again: 'what?'"

 

"You know... twins thinking what the other's thinking?"

 

Mak stays silent as Soapdish turns and warns Eclectic again, trying to force her back into the ring by threatening disqualification. Finally Eclectic stands up by herself, hands up as if to say she would acquiesce to authority. Slowly, she leans over and begins to get Munich to his feet with a bit more gentle force. Soapdish follows as Eclectic works the mass of humanity back towards the ring. Reacing the ring steps, the Queen SLAMS Munich's head against the steps without warning! Before the words can even leave his mouth, Allison Onita shoves him out of the way, allowing Annie to finally roll her now bleeding victim into the ring.

 

"Like psychosis or something..."

 

"SHUT UP KING," yells Mak, "There is a mugging in progress, and you're babbling about some sort of Vulcan mind meld..."

 

Soapdish rolls himself in as Annie hops up onto the ring apron. The official slides over to Munich to check his condition as Eclectic simply waits outside on the apron, holding the top rope...

 

"...and can we finally start the match? Is Munich in any shape to even fight?" asks Mak.

 

...leaning back and pulling herself up - launching her lithe body up and landing on the top rope itself. She immediatly rebounds off the rope, leaping forward while flipping backwards... landing square on Munich just as Soapdish scrambles out of the way! Some gasps of appreciation break through the constant booing, some dissatisfied fans even throwing half-empty beer cups (oh we hope it's just beer) towards ringside. Shaking his head, Soapdish makes a motion towards the timekeeper...

 

"AHAHAHA! Munich's old finisher, the X Force Nine!" yells King, "Not only did the two sisters rip him apart before he had a chance, but they ripped him off too? That's perfect!"

 

"You're a sick bastard, King."

 

"Agreed!"

 

 

DING DING DING

 

 

"Don't tell me he's starting the match now?!?!?" says an exasperated Mak.

 

Annie hooks a leg, leaving Soapdish with no alternative really...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

....

 

 

 

THREEEEE!

 

 

DING DING DING

 

 

"Travesty. That's all I have to say," says Mak.

 

"Oh quit your bitching and enjoy the bloodshed."

 

Cult of Personality starts to play as more trash gets flung into the ring. Eclectic rises to her feet, and extremely smug expression on her face as she raises a three-fingered crown in the air. Onita barks for her to leave, but she stands defiant towards the crowd.

 

"Your winner," begins Funyon, "By pinfall at four seconds... the QUEEN! ANNNIIIIIIIIIEEE EEEEEEEECLEEEEEEECTIIIIIIIC!"

 

"This doesn't even deserve a mention really... let's just get ready for the next match. This is horrible." mutters Mak, as the scene cuts back to a defiant Annie standing, refusing to acknowledge the booing...

[Toxxic 0]

We fade out from our previous segment into a shot of inside the Arena Monterrey. The Mexican crowd comes alive as SWF 13th Hour 2008 continues its action packed show! Various wrestling fans around the arena wave homemade signs and wear lucha libre masks in support of their favorite wrestlers (many of which are Dance Dance Dragon masks). The cameraman cuts down to our ring announcers for the evening, "The Franchise" Mak Francis and The Suicide King!

 

"King, so far tonight, we have had such an amazing show," cries the paraplegic announcer. "We have had returns, debuts, Va'aiga on the House of Marvelous…"

 

"…and the announcement of a special crowning ceremony at Next in Line, of our new Cruiserweight Champion, Spike Jenkins!"

 

"Indeed. In the opening segment of 13th Hour, Spike Jenkins came out here…and well, held a good ole fashioned North American celebration, proclaimed himself to be the best wrestler in the world and announced that in a few weeks at Next in Line, will be holding a crowning ceremony to officially start off his third Cruiserweight Title reign."

 

"Speaking of our newly crowned Cruiserweight Champion, he is in action next against The Raging Bull, MANSON!"

 

The camera cuts the stage area, where smoke begins to rise from the ground. The lights dim and strobe lights begin flashing at the top of the entrance ramp, as "God is God" by Juno Reactor begins playing over the PA. Soon after, Manson emerges from behind the curtain, shrouded in a cloak that covers his whole body.

 

Inside the ring, Funyon takes the microphone and begins his introductions. "The following contest is scheduled for one fall and is a non-title match! First, making his way to the ring…weighing in at a total of Two Hundred and Twenty-Nine Pounds…hailing from Denver, Colorado…he is "The God Machine," "The Messiah of Mansonosity," he is MAAAAAANSSSSOOOOONNNNN!"

 

Manson stomps down towards the ring, unresponsive to the crowd around him. He reaches the ringside area, rolls underneath the bottom rope and climbs up to his feet. Manson pulls the cloak over his head and tosses it to a ringside crew member. The Raging Bull runs his fingers through his hair, as he stares intensely towards the entranceway.

 

"AND HIS OPPONENT!"

 

And with that, the arena erupts into jeers. The lights begin to flicker around as the violent guitar riffs and the blaring drum work of The Agony Scene's "Scapegoat" blast through the PA system.

 

Abandon, broken and bleeding.

A feast for their eyes, a spectacle.

A martyr of the forsaken.

A scapegoat for their suffering.

 

Red strobe lights begin to flash at the top of the stage as the audience waits for their first glimpse at the newly crowned SWF Cruiserweight Champion.

 

Burn Me Alive…

 

GRRRRR

 

BURN ME ALIVE!

 

I FEEL THE HATRED BEHIND THEIR EYES!

BURN ME ALIVE!

IN EAGER CIRCLES TO WATCH ME DIE!

BURN ME!

 

"Hollywood" Spike Jenkins emerges from behind the curtain. Jenkins stomps down the entrance ramp, wearing a black zipped-up hooded sweatshirt that covers most of his face, but a cocky grin is visible underneath.

 

"Weighing in at a total of Two Hundred and Five Pounds…hailing from Long Island, New York…he is the current reigning and defending SWF Cruiserweight Champion of the World…he is 'HOLLYWOOD' SPIIIIIIIKE JEEEEENNNKINNNNSSSS!"

 

Spike climbs up the steel steps and onto the ring apron. He takes a look around at the Mexican crowd that fills the arena as they all cry out to see him get the beating that is rightfully coming to him. He climbs up to the middle rope and unzips his sweatshirt, unveiling the freshly won SWF Cruiserweight Championship belt strapped around his waist. Jenkins stands tall and proud, waving the middle finger around at the crowd around him. He unstraps the title, steps over the top rope and lands in the ring, across from his opponent, Manson. Referee Todd Éclair waddles over and takes the Cruiserweight title from Jenkins.

 

"Spike Jenkins is fresh off his victory in the Air Raid match, where he won the Cruiserweight Championship for a third time!"

 

"But he shouldn't take his opponent lightly, as Manson is fresh off...well, sort of a victory at Duck and Cover, when he destroyed Munich with a steel chair!"

 

Referee Todd Éclair signals towards Manson, then towards Jenkins and then calls for the bell!

 

*Ding Ding Ding*

 

"And this match is underway," cries out Mak Francis.

 

Both men come out of their corner and circle around the ring. They eye each other as they prepare for to lock up. But before they can, the audience breaks out into a chant…

 

"Eres Malo Para! Eres Malo Para!"

 

Jenkins puts his hands up, as if to call a time out to his opponent. He turns around, walks towards the corner, climbs up to the middle rope and poses. The arena literally fills with jeers.

 

"The Mexican crowd is all over Jenkins tonight, Mak!"

 

"I don't think they took too kindly to his celebration earlier tonight…"

 

"You mean the sold-out crowd here in Mexico didn't take too kindly to a celebration consisting of red, white and blue confetti?"

 

"Yeah, pretty sure that was it."

 

"Hey, maybe we should start calling Spike, Captain America! Ha-ha!"

 

Jenkins steps off the middle rope and sets his sights back to Manson. Both men circle around once more, before meeting in the center of the ring with a collar-and-elbow tie up. Both men battle for control, but the stronger Manson is able to sneak out a side headlock!

 

"Manson starting the match off strong with a side headlock," says the paraplegic announcer.

 

The Raging Bull wrenches at the neck of the Cruiserweight Champion, with all the intentions in the world to pop his head straight off his body. Spike momentarily struggles to pull Manson back into the ropes, but uses them to push Manson off and into the opposite ropes. The God Machine quickly bounces off the ropes and stomps back towards Jenkins…and send the Cruiserweight Champion down to the mat with a shoulder block!

 

"Big time shoulder block by Manson!"

 

Jenkins shakes the cobwebs loose just in time to see Manson head towards the parallel ropes. He bounces off them and stomps back towards the downed Jenkins, who flips over onto his stomach. Manson hops over Jenkins and continues into the ropes. The Hollywood Superstar jumps to his feet, as Manson bounces off the ropes. As Manson charges towards his opponent, Jenkins catches him around the arm and flips him forward onto his back with an arm drag! Manson immediately rolls towards the ropes to protect himself from further attack. Spike rolls over onto one knee and poses for the crowd, yelling out "LUCHAAAA!"

 

The crowd reacts with disdain.

 

"Spike may actually be trying his hardest to get shanked in Mexico tonight, Francis!"

 

"…That probably isn't very hard."

 

Manson climbs up to his feet, slapping himself across the face to get himself warmed up. Spike stands up and cockily strolls around the ring, as they both circle around again. They meet in the center and enter in another collar-and-elbow tie up. This time, Jenkins grabs a hold of Manson's wrist and twists it over into an arm wrench! Manson should out in pain, but counters it into his own arm wrench!

 

"Manson utilizing that arm wrench to keep Spike Jenkins in one place.”

 

Manson tears at the arm, attempting to rip it straight out of the shoulder. Spike winces in pain, but quickly moves around to break free. Jenkins rolls forward onto the mat, kips up to his feet and smacks away Manson’s hold on his wrist! The Cruiserweight Champion hops into the air, placing his feet on his opponents’ hips and falls backwards…sending Manson over head and crashing to the mat with a monkey flip!

 

“Spike is really busting out the lucha libre tonight, huh, Francis?” asks an impressed Suicide King.

 

“He’s trying to prove that he is in fact, the best in the world…and he’s using the Mexican style to mock the fans,” Francis sighs. “This is not how I trained him to act…”

 

Manson once again rolls over towards the ropes and again, Jenkins rolls to one knee and shouts out “LUCHAAAA,” much to the dismay of the crowd.

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“Spike is really tempting fate here. This crowd seems blood thirsty…AND HE’S ON THE MENU!”

 

“King, I think it might have something to do with the red, white and blue confetti falling from the ceiling earlier tonight and Spike spitting on this countries name.”

 

“They should be thankful for what happened earlier tonight! They’re probably using that confetti as currency!”

 

“You’re an idiot.”

 

Manson climbs up to his feet and, as his nickname says, charges at Spike like a raging bull. Jenkins pops up to his feet quickly, dodges the attack and knocks Manson to the ground with a lucha trip to the back of the legs! Spike drops down and covers The God Machine!

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

TH---Manson kicks out!

 

“Jenkins almost scoring the upset right there,” cries out Francis.

 

Spike rolls over onto his feet and props himself up. Manson pushes himself up to his feet and stumbles back towards Jenkins…who connects with a standing dropkick! Manson hits the mat hard, rolls towards the ropes and out to the floor! Spike hops up to his feet and holds his arms up in the air in victory!

 

"Eres Malo Para! Eres Malo Para!"

 

Spike cups his hand to his ear and walks around the ring, as if challenging the fans to get louder; which they start to do.

 

“King, a full scale riot may break out here tonight in Mexico!”

 

“Spike better stop worrying about the fans and worry more about Manson, who has a steel chair in his hand!”

 

Indeed, Manson slides underneath the bottom rope into the ring with a steel chair in hand. Manson stalks behind Jenkins with the steel chair raised in the air, ready to strike. The crowd, for the first time ever, begins to cheer the Raging Bull as he gets closer to Jenkins…

 

…But Referee Todd Éclair comes up behind Manson and grabs the steel chair! Manson turns towards Éclair as they both struggle for control of the chair. Finally, after being threatened to be disqualified, Manson releases it…which sends Éclair tumbling over to the mat.

 

“Todd Éclair just saved Spike from the same fate that Munich felt at Duck and Cover,” says The Suicide King.

 

With the attention turned towards Éclair, Jenkins stalks up behind Manson…and gives him a grueling low blow! Manson stumbles over, leaving himself wide open for Jenkins. The Cruiserweight Champion grabs Manson by the hair and pulls him into a standing head scissors. He underhooks both of his challengers’ arms, leaps up into the air and drives Manson face first into the mat with an Endwell!

“ENDWELL!” shouts Francis.

Spike turns Manson over on to his back and cockily hooks one leg. Referee Todd Éclair slides the chair out of the ring and jumps into place for the academic cover. As the count is being made, Spike holds his free hand up in the air to count along!

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

THREE!!!!

 

The crowd erupts into jeers as Éclair calls for the bell.

 

*Ding Ding Ding*

 

“I don’t believe it, King. Spike stole this victory here tonight in Monterrey, Mexico! Just like he stole the Cruiserweight Championship!”

 

“Stole? If anyone is to blame for this, it’s Manson. He became so frustrated with Jenkins’ lucha libre antics that he tried to pull a Munich and attack him with a steel chair! Hell, MUNICH of all people should be on his hands and knees THANKING Spike Jenkins!”

 

“…Way to put the talent over, King.”

 

Spike Jenkins climbs to his feet and poses in the center of the ring for the entire arena to see. Éclair grabs the Cruiserweight Championship from a ringside crew member and hands it over to its rightful owner.

 

“The truth of the matter is this. Manson tried to attack Spike with a chair, it backfired and now the Cruiserweight Champion of the World stands victorious. Manson became frustrated because Spike used a style that he wasn’t use to, a style that’s famous here in Mexico, which is why he is the champion OF THE WORLD!”

 

“You have really jumped on the bandwagon, huh, King?”

 

“Talent has an eye for talent. Besides, Francis, he is your boy,” the Suicide King laughs.

 

“I’m not so sure about that, anymore…”

 

“I can’t wait for the official Crowning Ceremony of the Cruiserweight Champion at Next in Line! It’s going to be great!”

 

Inside the ring, Spike Jenkins walks into the corner and climbs up to the middle rope. He victoriously holds the SWF Cruiserweight Championship high in the air.

 

“Up next, fans, SWF World Heavyweight Champion, Insane Luchador is in non-title action! Don’t miss it!”

 

The screen begins to fade with the image of Jenkins holding the Cruiserweight title over his head, as the entire arena shouts for his blood.

 

[FADE]

 

[Toxxic 0]

“Welcome back,” Mak greets. “It is time for our main event where our World Champion, Insane Luchador, will square off against Dr. Pirata in a non-title match!”

 

“Yeah, yet another non-title match,” King venomously points out to his partner’s indifferent shrug, not willing to have the same repetitive argument.

 

“This one could be an opportunity for Dr. Pirata to catapult himself into World Title contention while Insane Luchador could keep his winning streak alive,” Mak replies. “Dr. Pirata could be a serious threat to the Ill One, whether he looks like it or not.”

 

“Let’s not forget how quick he finished off S.I.N.,” King says.

 

“But let’s not forget the incredible match Insane Luchador had against Stuart,” Mak reminds him. “It cemented his seventh consecutive win in a row, King and we know that the Ill One is looking for his eighth.”

 

“This is definitely a chance for Dr. Pirata to show us what he is made of,” King agrees.

 

Suddenly the eerie cover of “Hotel California” done by the Gipsy Kings begins to play as the crowd cheers at the arrival of the one and only –Spanish (actually Venezuelan)- Pirate Doctor, Dr. Pirata!

 

“Hey, is that the one song in that one movie where…”

 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

 

He steps out, clad in his black and yellow jumpsuit, the slightly altered Pirates cap, and the concealing yellow and black mask. While the crowd gives their support he raises his hands into the air, clapping towards the fans, and bobbing his head while walking down the aisle and slaps a few of the audience’s hands.

 

“Introducing… from Caracas, Venezuela… weighing in at 243 pounds… DDDDDDDOOOCCCCTTTTTTOOORRR PPPIIRRRAAATTTAAA!”

 

He hits ringside and slides into the ring, rolling up to his feet, and incites one last wave of cheers by simply pointing at the crowd (it usually doesn’t take much). He stands in center of the ring, briefly stretching, and simply watching the ring ramp while waiting for the World Champion. A brief moment goes by in silence and Mak can’t help but muse out loud-

 

“Although we might not be totally familiar with Dr. Pirata’s style, I’m wondering how he’s approaching this match. He could stand and strike with Luchador but I’m not sure if he’s faster than the Ill One.”

 

“If he can’t then there’s always the ground game which is easily Luchador’s weakest point,” King responds.

 

Two loud drum beats blare and it cues the grinding guitar kicks in, the crowd exploding over the beginning of the unnerving chant, and “Man in the Box” by Alice in Chains kicks up. Two loud and strong blasts of red and black pyrotechnics go off on the sides of the entrance ramp as the song hits the first verse. Finally the Ill One leaps out into the fans’ view, garnering another wave of cheers, with his arms energetically thrown into the air and the glistening World Title belt proudly hoisted up in one hand. He soaks in the cheers before carefully slinging the belt over his shoulder, patting it, and begins his descent down the aisle, slapping any encouraging hands.

 

“Next, from Easton, Pennsylvania… weighing in at 223 pounds… HE IS YOUR S-W-F WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION- IIIIIINNNNSSSSAAAAAAANNNEEEE LLLLUUUUCCCHHHAAADDDOOORRR!”

 

“Our World Champion looks confident as ever,” Mak says to his partner’s grunt.

 

“Cocky, he looks cocky for no damn reason,” King says before quickly adding, “I know, I know that whole ‘streak’ thing.”

 

The Ill One continues his way down to ringside, stepping over to a ring attendee and gingerly handing over the title but not before (he assumes) Dr. Pirata’s eyes follow it. He slides into the ring, stands up, and shoots his undaunted opponent a psychotic smile. They step forward as Kivell does his usual thing, making sure each man is ready, and he signals for the bell-

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

They each rush towards each other and as Dr. Pirata approaches the Ill One is able to catch him with an armdrag, each man racing back up, and colliding once again, only this time to have Luchador thrown over. The exchange continues as IL is able to score another armdrag, as well as taking one from Dr. Pirata, and yet another delivered by Luchador. Except this time the duel has gone stale to Dr. Pirata, who immediately switches things up with a nasty elbow right into Luchador’s face. He continues his assault with a harsh kick to the gut, a leg kick, an elbow that staggers Luchador, and he takes a step back before lunging forward with a rolling elbow that knocks the Champion down! But the tough IL stands right back up, only to get ambushed by the Pirate Doctor who rushes forward with a flurry of elbows that leaves the World Champion feebly covering up. He continues to smoother Insane Luchador with left and right elbows, some jeers emerging as the Ill One falls down onto one knee, and Dr. Pirata viciously throws a roundhouse kick to Luchador’s head! The kick echoes and leaves IL to crumble down to the canvas and Pirata gives a small shrug before dropping down to go for an early cover-

 

“ONE!” Luchador kicks out with a frustrated grunt as Pirata stands back up to his feet.

 

The World Champion looks up at his opponent and sits up, a psychotic grin on his face, but only leaves himself open for a stiff cowboy kick! Dr. Pirata lifts up the World Champion, most likely wondering if it’s really –that- easy to beat him, and wraps his arms around his chest. He suddenly arches back, heaving Luchador over, and throwing the Ill One with a nice belly-to-belly suplex!

 

“I have to say that our World Champion is not looking his best,” Mak says.

 

“He was overwhelmed by those elbows early and now he’s paying for missing a beat, that’s all it ever takes,” King says.

 

“Right, but if Dr. Pirata misses a beat then that’s all IL will ever need,” Mak shoots back.

 

Luchador rolls onto his feet, warily leaning against the ring ropes in recuperation, and he simply watches Dr. Pirata slowly approach him. The Ill One boldly walks forward, just outside of striking distance, and reengages with his opponent, this time he throws a hard front toe kick. He lands a right leg kick, a left leg kick, a right to the ribs, another left to the leg, and the crowd’s cheers pick up as he continues the onslaught with a hard right to his opponent’s kidney! Dr. Pirata winces and flinches, trying to predict the next kick coming without any success, but he notices Luchador taking a small step back. He watches the Ill One lunge forward with a hard front toe kick but he catches it, tripping Luchador by sweeping his foot against IL’s leg, and he clutches onto the leg. He quickly turns Luchador over in a half crab and adds just a little extra touch by stepping onto the World Champion’s head. Luckily the Ill One is still so close to the ropes that he easily snags the bottom rope and Kivell intervenes to a reluctant Pirata, who just-so-happens to put all his weight down on Luchador’s face before releasing the hold. He reaches down and grabs a handful of Luchador’s spiked hair, kindly helping him up, only to leap into the air with a Gamengiri that connects flush!

 

“Dr. Pirata has just blasted Luchador in the face with a nasty gamengiri!”

 

The Ill One clutches his face and staggers back against the ropes while Dr. Pirata stands back up. IL seizes his chance and gets the hell away from Dr. Pirata and the ropes, staggering to center of the ring, and motioning for Dr. Pirata to keep bringing it to the crowd’s delight. Dr. Pirata obliges IL, as well as the crowd, and rushes forward at the Ill One, only to get hit with a predictable dropkick. They scramble back up to their feet and Dr. Pirata throws a front kick that Luchador catches, using it to tug him forward, and he releases the leg to nail an elbow! He wraps his hands around the back of Dr. Pirata’s neck, lacing his fingers, and secures the Muay Thai clinch, only to have Dr. Pirata instantly lock in his own, the two temporarily stuck in a stalemate.

 

“This is a potentially risky decision by Luchador,” Mak admits. “But then again, Luchador has made a career based upon risky decisions.”

 

Except this risky decision doesn’t seem to pay off because Dr. Pirata instantly lands two hard knees to Luchador’s body. The World Champion responds with two knees of his own but the Pirate Doctor seems unfazed by it and proves his strength over Luchador by beginning to push them towards the ropes. He lands another knee and suddenly he lets go of his clinch, easily slipping out of Luchador’s, and he spins around to get behind him. He quickly wedges his head underneath Luchador’s arm, an arm wrapped around the waist, and he practically heaves IL into the air, catching him, and nailing a huge backbody suplex to King’s delight.

 

“See, get somebody competent in there and Insane Luchador will struggle,” King laughs. “What IL would do for a weapon now…”

 

Dr. Pirata cockily steps onto Luchador’s chest for an insulting pin, which gains a mixed reaction from the fans (the faithful Luchadorians tend to be quite loud people), only to have IL slap his foot away before Kivell can even drop to the mat. He begins to reach down and Luchador throws a leg up, his shoe catching his opponent in the face, and giving him the chance to roll onto his feet. He charges forward and leaps into the air with a flying forearm that connects, downing the good Doctor, and IL gets right back up. As Dr. Pirata sits up the Ill One takes a prescription straight from the Doctor’s pad himself, running forward, and kicking him right in the back that has the masked man involuntarily scream. Luchador drops and flattens him with an elbow, now lying across him, and he wisely uses the position to rain down short elbows! But as Dr. Pirata begins to get free IL aborts the idea, standing right back up, and beckoning his opponent to do the same. The Ill One gets the jump on him, landing an elbow followed by a leg kick, but Dr. Pirata proves to be resilient, easily weathering the blows, and returning with a spinning roundhouse that connects with Luchador’s head! The Ill One drops but rolls onto one knee in a daze, oblivious to the potentially dangerous situation he’s in, and by the time he looks up all he can see is a blur of black and yellow. He gets kneed directly in the face, sending him smacking against the canvas, and the entire arena audibly groans for his sake, as if Luchador’s string of swearing wasn’t good enough already.

 

“For being a pretty goofy guy this Pirata is vicious,” King says. “I mean, that was bbbbaaaadddd.”

 

“Luchador walked into that one,” Mak concedes.

 

“Actually he rolled into that one,” King corrects.

 

Dr. Pirata looks at Luchador, blood now splattered around his nose in what’s probably another unfathomable number of times his nose has been broken, and he simply shrugs to a torn crowd. He leans down, grabbing Luchador by the hair, but the Ill One desperately wraps an arm around his leg, one over the neck, and tries for a quick roll up!

 

“ONE!”

 

“TWO!” Pirata kicks out and stands up in a huff while IL uses the chance to roll away. He rolls all the way to the opposite ropes in side of the ring, seeking salvation, and gets onto one knee while using the ropes to stand up. He wipes the back of his taped hand across his nose, examining the blood smears, and he just looks up at his opponent with a psychotic smile. He leans against the ropes and shakes off the knee strike, well as much as a person can possibly shake off a nose-shattering blow, and cocks his head to the side as if in amusement. He lightly leans against the ropes before breaking into a charge at his opponent who stands ready, trying to gauge Luchador’s game plan, and he sees an arm prematurely extend for a clothesline. Luchador rapidly approaches and Dr. Pirata ducks underneath, to a laugh from Luchador, and the World Champion puts on the brakes. He steps beside Dr. Pirata and lands a stinging elbow to his spine, leaving him bent over so IL can grab the back of his head. IL twists his body a bit to the side with a grin on his face before exploding forward with a brutal knee for Dr. Pirata! He lets go of Dr. Pirata’s mask, leaving him to stumble forward, and the Ill One runs forward, latching onto the back of his neck, and hits the simple bulldog. He sits up while Pirata lies on his stomach and the World Champion’s face proves he’s pondering something. He suddenly sits on top of Pirata’s back, grabbing the back of his mask, and lifts his head up, only to slam it down against the canvas!

 

“Now our World Champion is responding with an equally brutal attack!”

 

He does it once again before locking in a Camel Clutch to the confusion of the crowd, the announcers, but to the joy of the skilled Dr. Pirata. He swiftly grabs at Luchador’s hands, prying free from the hold, and slithers his body out from underneath, leaving IL to fall against the canvas himself. He quickly responds with his own submission as he gets an across Luchador’s throat, locking in the body scissors, and rolls him over with a gorgeous rear naked choke!

 

“See, if Luchador was smart he would never go for a weak submission like that,” King says. “Impulsive wrestling tends to be stupid wrestling.”

 

“The Ill One may have sealed his own fate to the winning streak here,” Mak admits.

 

As Kivell tries to judge if it’s really a choke or cutting off circulation the Dr. Pirata uses a jumbled Spanish, attempt to insist that Luchador’s tapping, although that couldn’t be further from the truth. The Ill One grabs at Dr. Pirata’s arm, struggling to break the hold, but he gains a small victory in dislodging the hold and creates space to tuck his chin in, protecting his neck, and takes deep breaths. He then rolls onto his back, in hopes to elevate the pressure, and starts to pry at Pirata’s wrist. The hold around his neck is broken but Luchador remains trapped in the body scissors, leaving Dr. Pirata to simply wail on him with hammerfists! The Ill One hastily pushes at Dr. Pirata’s strong legs and simply takes on the hammerfists, since being hit is sort of his forte, and finally breaks free. He lunges away in a roll, standing up, and making a mental note to never, ever try to submit a Pirate Doctor, at least this one.

 

“Luchador luckily got out of that one but that could have meant the end of this one,” Mak says.

 

Meanwhile Dr. Pirata stands up and comes forward at Luchador who tries to throw an overhand right but it is caught. He uses it to whip Luchador into the ropes but Pirata charges into the opposite ropes, leaving them speeding forward on a collision course. They quickly meet but each man evasively ducks, leaving them to repeat the routine. This time they rapidly approach and Dr. Pirata leaps out with a flying knee in hopes to decapitate Luchador but instead the Ill One ducks underneath, continuing his charge, and hopping onto the top rope! He pauses for a brief second, the crowd beginning to go wild, and he leaps off with a moonsault that takes both men down to the canvas. They awkwardly entangle from each other, pushing themselves up onto their feet, and colliding with elbow strikes. Dr. Pirata grabs the back of Luchador’s head, tugging it in, and begins to unleash elbows but only to have Luchador to do exactly the same. The crowd goes crazy as the men just tee off on each other to see who drops first in a rather painful exchange. Dr. Pirata seems to get the upper hand, the Ill One beginning to slouch, and so he remedies the problem with a knee to Pirata’s gut. He slaps the hand off of his head and locks in the front headlock, not even relenting a second, and plants him to the canvas with the Evenflow DDT!

 

“Evenflow DDT!” Mak exclaims to King’s grumbling.

 

“He just went for it because he was losing that exchange,” King claims.

 

The Ill One hooks the leg in hopes for the cover while the crowd chants along-

 

“Pin fall!”

 

“ONE!”

 

“TWO!”

 

“No, not even close,” King snickers since Dr. Pirata, indeed, kicks out right after the two count.

 

Luchador remains oddly serene after the pin fall attempt and instead of getting upset he simply hoists him up to his feet. He shoves him back to create a little wiggle room before coming at him with a high right head kick that catches his opponent, dropping him down to the canvas. IL ruthlessly stomps on his opponent before lowering down but he catches a debatably placed headbutt, which Dr. Pirata insists was accidental while Luchador’s wheeze says otherwise, and it lets Dr. Pirata stand up. He steps behind Luchador, latching onto him, to another mixed reaction from the audience, and he shows off his strength, throwing him backwards to guide his head to awkwardly smash and fold like an accordion with the Dangerous Venezuelan, alternatively known as one hell of an ugly German suplex. However, he retains the waistlock and stands back up with Luchador in tow, leaving everybody to wonder if another suplex is coming- but instead he rolls backwards with the Die Venezuelanfalle, in hopes to catch IL with the roll up!

 

“Roll up!”

 

“ONE!”

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

Luchador kicks free, feeling stupid for getting caught with the roll up but also relieved it wasn’t another German, and scrambles away from his opponent. He staggers back and the Doctor charges at him, throwing out his arm, and plasters him with the Cozy Lariat! The Ill One clutches at his throat while Dr. Pirata continues his beloved heel shenanigans with little, condescending stomps across Luchador’s face, just to keep him down. He reaches at IL but only gets rewarded with a consolation prize of a punch to the gut, doubling him over, and letting Luchador step behind him, locking in a half-nelson, and immediately tripping him down to the canvas with a half-nelson facebuster! While Dr. Pirata lies on the canvas in a daze the Ill One looks behind him at the turnbuckle not too far away. He darts over, wasting no time in hopping onto the top turnbuckle, and jumps off with a double stomp aimed right at Pirata’s back! Dr. Pirata rolls away and IL hits the canvas on both feet, although a bit stunned, and Dr. Pirata tries to stand up, getting onto both knees. Luchador runs forward and leaps with a low dropkick that plants Dr. Pirata directly in the chest, sending him rolling away while clutching his chest in a wheeze. Insane Luchador crawls over at his opponent with a psychotic laugh to enjoy the awkward noises coming from Dr. Pirata’s chest that may or may not be construed as breathing. Either way, the Ill One is thoroughly entertained and stands up, towering over Dr. Pirata and reaching down, lifting him up. He locks in the front facelock, grabbing a handful of his jumpsuit, and hoists him into the air. The Ill One proves his own little feat of strength but taking a few steps forward, really letting that blood rush to his head, and then drops down, spiking him down with a stalling brainbuster. He tries for cover-

 

“ONE!”

 

“TWO!” Dr. Pirata kicks out and the Ill One grinds his forearm against his mask before dropping an elbow just for good measure. He gets onto his knees, grabbing a handful of Dr. Pirata, and stands up with him. IL tries for an overhand right but Dr. Pirata ducks underneath it, getting behind Luchador, and locks in a waistlock. But the dazed Dr. Pirata isn’t able to capitalize on his chance and it allows the Ill One to throw two back elbows. He then slips free from the hold and whirls around with a spinning backfist that rocks him, sending him back, and the Ill One dashes forward, dropping in a roll, and smacking him with the Rolling Koppo Kick! The crowd explodes at the chain of events while Dr. Pirata, like many other Pirates, is a resilient one, standing right back up, and actually taunting IL to bring it once again. Dr. Pirata makes his move, weaving past an overhand from Luchador, and is able to land a knee to the gut. He sets Luchador’s arm, wrapping an arm around him, and suplexes him into the air, dropping him straight onto his head with the Exploder ’98! He gets up, Luchador struggling to sit up, and so he grabs a handful of spiked hair, tugging him up. He maneuvers to grab Luchador’s thigh, draping him over his shoulder, and lifts him up in a standing fireman’s carry, looking for his finisher, the Oyasumi Nasai! He gets ready for the drop when Luchador shoves his head forward, shaking his leg free, and slips away, landing onto his feet behind him. He quickly locks in his neck, bending him over, and dropping him down with the reverse DDT to an explosion from the crowd.

 

“Dr. Pirata could have beaten our World Champion but he was able to slip away at the last second!” Mak exclaims.

 

“Unfortunately.”

 

The Ill One grabs a foot and drags Dr. Pirata closer to the turnbuckle. He points to the turnbuckle to a roar from the crowd while Dr. Pirata groans, clutching the back of his head. IL runs over, scaling to the top, and leaps off with a quick leg drop. He quickly descends and connects with Dr. Pirata right across the throat, to the crowd’s approval, and Luchador attempts another pin fall-

 

“ONE!”

 

“TWO!”

 

Dr. Pirata breaks the pin, leaving Luchador to swear out loud, and he rolls away from his competitor. IL stands up, gesturing for him to be a man and stand, but it only leads to Dr. Pirata rolling towards the outside. The Ill One, always ready for a fight on the outside, breaks into a charge, dropping down to the canvas in a slide, and connecting with the baseball slide that sends him to the outside. Luchador remains in the ring, getting up to his feet, and he waits for the Pirate to stand up. He hops onto the top rope, perching on it, and finally lunges off with a flying Crossbody out of the ring to the delight of the crowd while Dr. Pirata looks up to see the attacking Luchador. He holds out his arms and catches Luchador, although the momentum and weight sends him harshly smacking against the steel guardrail, but he maintains his hold on him. Luchador tries to elbow free but Dr. Pirata takes advantage, spinning around, and sandwiching him against the guardrail to a round of jeers. Meanwhile Kivell begins the count out on the outside-

 

“ONE!” He slams him against it again while Luchador still tries to break free but obviously with little luck.

 

“TWO!” He drops Luchador, facetiously kicking at him like he was a dead body.

 

“THREE!” He reaches down and Luchador shoots in, grabbing his legs, and taking him down with the double leg takedown.

 

“FOUR!” Luchador stands up while Dr. Pirata scrambles up, straight into a kick to the gut.

 

“FIVE!” The Ill One grabs him by the head and smacks it against the guardrail once, twice, and a particularly harsh-

 

“SIX!” –third. Dr. Pirata slumps down and Luchador hoists him up. He shoves him away and leaps into the air with a dropkick that sends Pirata smacking against the ring apron.

 

“SEVEN!” But at least the Doctor is able to slide into the ring while Luchador stands up, throwing his arms into the air, and sliding into the ring.

 

“A nice exchange on the outside for Luchador but I think he’d be risking getting overwhelmed if he goes outside again,” Mak says.

 

“That’s true, Mak, it doesn’t take much on the outside to turn the tides and have it terribly backfire,” King points out. “Dr. Pirata displayed great strength on the outside by catching him but ultimately IL had to resort to assistance from the guardrail to, you know, compensate for lack of skills.”

 

Dr. Pirata bravely stands up and Insane Luchador moves forward to engage his groggy enemy. He comes forward with an overhand right that he grasps onto, pulling it towards him, jumping into the air, legs wrapped around his arm, using the momentum to bring him down to the canvas! Dr. Pirata flattens Luchador out on the ground, legs across his arm, and yanking back with the always dangerous juji-gatame! Luchador’s free arm desperately flails for the ropes as Kivell drops to the canvas, carefully watching IL’s hyperextending arm (ready to stop the match if he must). Meanwhile as Luchador’s feet smack against the canvas whether it was meant to be a cue of support or not, the crowd begins an all too familiar chant-

 

PLEASE DON’T TAP!

PLEASE DON’T TAP!

PLEASE DON’T TAP!

 

Insane Luchador risks breaking his arm as he turns all his weight in the opposite direction towards the rope, the very last thing one should do, and he screams out in pain while he cranks at his arm.

 

“He’s got that armbar locked in and that’s not easy to escape!” Mak exclaims.

 

“For Luchador’s sake, he better tap or have Kivell stop this,” King excitedly says.

 

Luchador’s fingers graze along the bottom rope, not quite grabbing him, while Pirata yanks the arm even worse while Kivell warns he’s ready to stop the match. IL finally tries one last time, clutching onto the ropes to a roar from the crowd! Kivell pries Pirata off of Luchador, IL rolling away while clutching his arm, and the Dr. Pirata stomps over to his opponent.

 

“Luchador escaped but his arm had to have taken its toll,” Mak says.

 

The Ill One forces himself up while Dr. Pirata takes advantage, charging forward, and he throws his boot up in a vicious Yakuza Kick, plastering him down to the canvas! He grabs Luchador by the foot and drags him into center of the ring, hooking his leg for the pin, and puts all his weight against Luchador’s presumably hurt arm-

 

“ONE!”

 

“TWO!”

 

“THREE!” The crowd groans but Dr. Pirata can’t bust out a fiesta yet because Luchador breaks the pin to his dismay. He sits back on his knees and clutches IL’s hair in his hands, pulling him up, and he throws a smacking kick into Luchador’s arm!

 

“Dr. Pirata is being absolutely ruthless,” Mak says.

 

“Most pirates are… or were,” King points out.

 

Luchador stumbles back in retreat while Dr. Pirata comes rushing forward with a high head kick that the Ill One ducks underneath. He sends a knee to the gut, lunging forward, and trying to lock in the front facelock but instead shouts in pain, dumbly using his injured arm to capture his opponent. Dr. Pirata grabs Luchador’s arm, cranking it, and uses it to bring down a chop against his elbow. Meanwhile IL swings around, headbutting (or mask butting) his foe, followed by a leg kick, and he leaps into the air with an enzuigiri to down him! He rolls right back up but into Luchador’s front toe kick, IL awkwardly using the other arm, and plastering him to the canvas with the Evenflow DDT! He runs over to the turnbuckle, leaping onto it facing the crowd, and leaps off, completing an entire flip, doing a moonsault into double stomp onto Dr. Pirata! The crowd goes crazy while IL covers-

 

“ONE!” They chant.

 

“TWO!” They cheer.

 

“TTTTHHRREEE!”

 

DING! DING! DING! /B]

 

“Man in the Box” plays and IL stands up, holding his good arm up, while watching his opponent weakly roll away.

 

“Luchador barely gets the win but the streak continues. What’s next will have to be seen! Good night everybody!”