OUR SUPER SWEET SIXTEEN!

[Toxxic 0]

"Welcome to Our Super Sweet Sixteen!" Mak Francis yells as the music kicks in, "we're here LIVE in Puerto Rico, and what a card we have for you tonight! Opening proceedings will be a new arrival from the DVS, and-"

 

Oh, but Mak spoke too soon. For opening proceedings is something that hasn't been heard in the SWF for several months, but is thoroughly familiar to anyone who knows their history...

 

"COME AND HAVE A GO IF YOU THINK YER 'ARD ENOUGH!"

"COME AND HAVE A GO IF YOU THINK YER 'ARD ENOUGH!"

 

...and as the rolling, raucous soccer chant cuts off the oozing bassline of 'The Gush' by Raging Speedhorn starts up, announcing the arrival of the man who appears on the soundstage in his 'World Champion Tour 2006' shirt, listing all the venues and opponents he successfully defeated in his record-breaking run (because if Toxxic's anything he's a show-off, even when he's injured). However, the Englishman doesn't seem in the best of moods tonight as he stomps down to the ring, microphone in hand.

 

"OK, let me get straight to the point," the General Manager starts off without preamble, "I'm out here because Landon and I flipped a coin and I lost, so that should give you some idea of my purpose tonight."

 

"I don't like the sound of this," King mutters.

 

"I encourage you all to look at your tickets," Toxxic tells the crowd. "Look at the small print. The bit below the price and the venue. The part that says 'Card Subject To Change'..."

 

"...shit," King and Mak say together.

 

"See, we do our best in this business to manage a bunch of guys with far too much testosterone for their own good," Toxxic continues, "and generally I think we do pretty well. However, I am afraid to announce that due to two of my employees being complete and utter fuckwits, WE HAVE NO MAIN EVENT."

 

"..."

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

 

"This is S.I.N.'s island, or so he claimed," Toxxic continues over the sudden uproar, "but it seems to have escaped his notice that even a hometown hero can and will be investigated by the authorities when charges of kidnapping and false imprisonment are levied at him. Yeah, that's right, Sammy Nunez decided it'd be a great idea to hit Dace Night over the head and carry him off in his car," the Englishman continues. "Now don't get me wrong, Dace and I have a history of cordially disliking each other that goes back over four years, but there's a point where a line needs to be drawn. On this occasion, it was drawn by the Puerto Rican police.

 

"Unfortunately, as S.I.N. was leaving the station following initial questioning he ran into Va'aiga-"

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

 

"-and the two of them proceeded to kick seven kinds of shit out of each other, leading to them both being arrested," Toxxic continues, clearly wishing for a Picard 'facepalm' JPG. "As a result, WE HAVE NO MAIN EVENT, and I'm PISSED OFF!"

 

"He's pissed off?" Mak asks, "what about the crowd?"

 

"I understand that a lot of you bought tickets to this show in order to see S.I.N. wrestle," Toxxic assures the crowd, "and it is with that understanding that Landon has agreed that anyone who wishes to leave now and present their ticket will receive a full refund-"

 

"Ouch," King winces as the prospect of a 12,000 gate in one of wrestling's hottest territories crashes down around their ears.

 

"-while those of you who wish to stay will still be able to enjoy some of the finest wrestling in this hemisphere," the General Manager concludes. "If you thought the only thing worth watching tonight was going to be S.I.N. vs Va'aiga, prepare to be proved wrong. Thank you."

 

'The Gush' kicks up again as Toxxic leaves the ring, throwing his mic irritably to Funyon as he storms off up the ramp.

 

"OK, no main event," King sighs, "I hope the rest of this show is good Francis, or we're never coming back here again."

 

"It'll be fine King," Mak assures his broadcast partner, "let's get this show rolling!"

 

 

FADE OUT

Edited July 17, 2008 by Toxxic

[Toxxic 0]

The SWF presents...



OUR SUPER SWEET SIXTEEN



LIVE to DVD from the Jose Miguel Agrelot Coliseum in Hato Rey, Puerto Rico, 7pm EST, Tuesday 15th July!



NON-TITLE MATCH
'Hollywood' Spike Jenkins© vs Divefire
Divefire's back. Yes, Divefire. He's not only back, but he's pissed at Spike trying to set himself up as the best Cruiserweight ever. Divefire's never held the Cruiserweight Title (he predates it by several years, actually) but that won't stop him from making his point. After his interruption of Spike's ceremony Jenkins was all too eager to get his hands on this returning veteran, and who were we to stand in his way?

Word Limit: 5000
Rules: Standard Singles
Send To: Toxxic



Dance Dance Dragon vs Jay Hawke
Jay Hawke returned to the ring against Triple D's sometime-tag partner Ced Ordonez in typical Hawke fashion - smirk, cheat, do just enough to get the win. He is likely to face a much sterner test in the form of the Strong Style Party Animal, whose slightly portly frame has nonetheless lifted him to victory over several opponents.

Word Limit: 5000
Rules: Cruiserweight (no throwing an opponent over the top rope, 20 count on the outside)
Send To: Toxxic



SIX-MAN TAG
The Breslin Brothers (Luke & Leo) and Dr. Pirata vs TKO and Munich
The Breslins and TKO have been having all sorts of fun of late, by which we mean beating the shit out of each other. First TKO took exception to Luke beating TORU and attacked, then Leo brought a steel chair to ruin their party, and then at Next In Line TORU and KOJI jumped Leo backstage before attacking Luke in the ring after his hard-fought win over MANSON. Now Leo is a fully signed-up member of the roster things might change - meanwhile, Dr. Pirata must surely be looking for revenge after losing to the Japanese duo in front of his hometown(?) crowd in Caracas. The wild card in the setup is Munich, who pulled out an excellent win against Daniel Smith last show and now gets two tag partners to take the load of the next match with. Will TKO's undefeated record in all types of tag competition continue, or will the Breslins combine with their unlikely ally combine to say sayanora to the devious Orientals?

Word Limit: 7000
Rules: Standard six-man tag. Use the tag ropes.
Send To: King Cucaracha



Tod James Stuart vs MANSON
Tod watched his tag partner Daniel Smith lose by the narrowest of margins to Munich last show - now he has the chance to do better, as he goes head-to-head with the Raging Bull, MANSON. MANSON himself was defeated by Luke Breslin, despite TKO's attentions, but the Savage Messiah is bound to prove an obstacle as always. Two veterans throw down for pride, glory and having their head kicked in less.

Word Limit: 5500
Rules: Standard singles
Send To: Dace59



Taiga Star vs Orden Noash
Taiga took the win over Dance Dance Dragon in her last outing to become a prominent name in the chase for the Cruiserweight Title (although the arrival of Divefire may yet have a role to play). Tonight Taiga gets a less flamboyant opponent as the mysterious Orden Noash returns to the SWF ring.

Word Limit: 4500
Rules: Standard singles
Send To: Toxxic


Longdogger Pete vs Arne Andersen
Longdogger Pete? Really? YES! LDP is back in the house (the Doghouse?) and he's strutting his stuff at the tender age of 41-and-a-bit-more. Can he really pull off the transition from competitor to announcer to fired-by-his-own-son's-actions back to competitor? Only time will tell; in his way stands the Enforcer of the Four Norsemen, Arne Andersen.

Word Limit: 4500
Rules: Standard Singles
Send To: Toxxic



Hardcore Jammer vs Chance Silver
The first of Taiga's friends is here! Hardcore Jammer has made the jump from the DVS to the SWF, and we hope he shows the same spirit and affinity for casual violence that we all associate with his female compatriot. In his way is Chance Silver, the religious nut who hasn't yet had the conviction knocked out of him by week after week of pounding.

Word Limit: 3000
Rules: Standard Singles
Send To: Toxxic



Team Canada (Kevin Riggs & X-Punk) vs The Sensational Academy (Danny Meadows & Panic)
...and some more of Taiga's friends, these ones proudly representing Canada! Riggs and X-Punk go up against two other newcomers to the SWF, as the two most promising (or most gullible) students from Toxxic's Sensational Academy step up to the plate for their first matches in pro wrestling. Let's see what the DVS have got about them, shall we?

Word Limit: 3500
Rules: Standard Tag. Use the tag ropes, or I will cry.
Send To: Toxxic



Spyke vs Aaron Star
No, it's not Spike Jenkins. He's up there. No, it's not Sean 'Spike' Atlas, he's... I dunno, but he's not here. This is Spyke with a 'y', and he's yet another member of the DVS who's showing up on this card (I hope, or I'm going to look REAL stupid...) In his way is Aaron Star, the less-than-spectacular rookie who debuted at the end of last year and promptly went nowhere.

Word Limit: 3000
Rules: Standard singles
Send To: Toxxic

(Send all marked matches, promos etc, to Toxxic)

Edited July 17, 2008 by Toxxic

[Toxxic 0]

White Lightning by the RZA starts to play as the ring announcer introduces the competitors

 

Funyun

The following contest is brought to you by the SWF. Introducing first to the ring from Peoria, Illinois

 

Euphoria by Spiritual Beggars starts up

 

Funyun

Weighing in at two hundred pounds he is AARON STARR!

 

A confident looking Aaron Starr steps out onto the stage area with a hood on his head and surveys the arena before making his way down the ramp way, ignoring the fans as he stays focused on the ring. He stops before the apron and climbs up looking back at the fans and pointing with no motion before stepping into the ring. He removes his hood and tosses it to the side before prancing in one spot as his music dies down.

 

Funyun

And the opponent! Representing the DVS he hails from Brooklyn, New York

 

“DON’T YOU WISH YOU WERE ME!?” is heard screaming on the loud speakers

 

Don’t You Wish You Were Me? By Fozzy starts up

 

Funyun

Weighing in at two hundred and thirty five pounds he is SPYKE!

 

Spyke steps out on the stage area with his hands in the air as the unimpressed crowd boos or gives no reaction. He smiles and blows the fans in the arena a huge kiss as he makes his way down the ramp with a cocky walk as if to say he is better than everyone in attendance tonight. Ignoring the few fans who do reach out to him he makes his way up the ring steps and pauses to look back at all the fans before he enters through the middle ropes as Aaron Starr stands off to the corner watching him with the ref placing his hand as a boarder to keep him from attacking. Watching his back to make sure he’s safe he takes to the second rope and slaps his chest twice, pointing to the crowd and letting his finger pan around the arena before pointing up to the sky once and stepping down as his music dies down.

 

Spyke stands by smirking and nodding his head as the fans continue to send him a mixed reaction mostly consisting of boos as Aaron star is hopping in place as though he was loosening his muscles for the match. The bell rings and Spyke suddenly goes into the grapple position causing Aaron to stop his prancing and do the same. The two start to circle the ring, getting closer to each other slowly until the two hands are interlocked. They attempt to lock up the next set of hands but Spyke kicks at Aaron who pulls his hand back but keeps his grip on Spyke. The crowd boos at Spykes lack of showmanship and he smirks again shaking his head as if to say it’s all in good fun before locking up his second set of hands with Aaron.

 

Mak Francis

Finally we get this thing underway

 

Suicide King

Talk about obnoxious. Not only is he cocky when he talk but it shows when he’s in the ring.

 

The two struggle for control until Spyke easily over powers Aaron Starr, shoving him back into the middle ropes he points and laughs at Aaron who bounces back and dashes towards him. Spyke goes for a standing lariat but Starr ducks under the arm leaving Spyke confused as he bounces off the opposite ropes and delivers a flying forearm that sends Spyke staggering back a few feet. The crowd impressed with his speed as Spyke watches him stand before him unamused. Starr takes to the ropes once again this time sliding under Spykes legs. Spykes turns around in time to see Aaron getting back to his feet.

 

Suicide King

I swear this kid is like lighting in the ring!

 

An infuriated Spykes swings to punch Starr who like a snake slithers around the punch and starts delivering a series of forearms to Spykes.

 

Mak Francis

This isn’t the DVS!

 

Spykes shoves Aaron to stop the flurry of attacks to the face but Aaron gets back in his face, throwing low kicks to the legs and a few closed fists with the forearms. Spykes shoves him back even further and takes the arm of Starr in his moment of getting back on the offensive using his own momentum against him to whip him to the ropes once again. Starr rebounds back and arm drags Spykes down to the mat. Spykes quickly tries to get back to his feet but Starr delivers a running drop kick to Spykes. Getting right back up as quick as he hit the mat Starr looks around and nods his head as the crowd gets behind him. Spykes gets to one knee as Starr sizes him up before going to the ropes once more using it to give him speed as he dashes towards Spykes who catches Aaron and goes to deliver a spine buster that Aaron escapes in mid air by pushing himself off Spykes shoulders to land on his feet. He goes on the defensive as Spykes kicks at his leg that he quickly moves out the way, Starr swings at Spykes who slaps his hand out the way and goes for a punch to the gut but Aaron jumps back and goes for a roundhouse that Spykes barely steps back from. Aaron goes on the offensive and throws another punch but Spykes catches the arm and goes for the arm wrench that Aaron just as quickly slips out of by doing a front flip, he follows up by swinging with the clothesline to take down Spykes who catches the other arm and goes for a release back drop that is countered by Aaron as he lands on his feet. Spykes turns and quickly backs away as the two go on the defensive. Both men breathe heavy ask Spykes breaks his stance and fixes his pants, looking around the arena and nodding his head as the crowd chants “Let’s Go Aaron!” Aaron breaks his pose and looks around as if he is proud of his offense thus far. Spykes focuses on him and wipes away a bead of sweat from his nose before extending his hand as a show of respect to the SWF superstar. Aaron smiles and goes to accept the extend hand right as Spykes pulls it back and delivers a back handed smack across the face that is heard throughout the arena before he follows up with a knee to the face of Aaron who kneels over in embarrassment, sending him down to the mat.

 

Mak Francis

THAT WAS TOTALLY UNCALLED FOR!

 

The crowd boos Spykes as he struts over to Aaron. Bending over with concern to see if he is okay he quickly shows he’s only mocking him as he shoves Aarons head with his foot. The referee yells at him to stop but he does it once more before smacking Aaron in the back of the head. The ref gets into Spykes face and he backs off keeping his hands in the air until the referee backs up as well. Spykes walks back over to Aaron and pulls him off the mat. Tucking Aaron’s head between his legs; Spykes pulls him into the air for a powerbomb however Starr wraps his legs around the neck of Spyke and delivers a hurricanranna that sends him sliding across the mat. Spyke gets back up and shakes his head as if the knock out the cobwebs but Aaron is up and in his face with a perfect dropkick that sends Spyke stumbling through the middle ropes to the outside.

 

Mak Francis

HA HA! This is what he calls perfection? This is what the DVS calls their best?

 

Spyke pounds the mat and gets back up as Aaron looks on as ever the opportunist and dashes for the ropes, leaping to the air and going over the top with a cross body splash that sends Spyke crashing to the floor once again. SWF chants cascade through the arena as a replay of Aaron Starrs cross body to the outside is shown. Getting back to his feet and holding his ribs he begins to drag Spyke back to the ring apron. Pulling him off the floor he slams Spykes head into the apron and rolls him into the ring, following behind by leaping up and stepping into the ring through the middle ropes. Following up by keeping the offensive on Spyke he goes to pick him up off the mat but Spyke rolls him up into a schoolboy pin, pulling on the tights as the referee slides across the mat to check the shoulders before beginning the count.

 

Eddy Long

One.........Two........

 

Aaron kicks out pissed off and looks at the referee in disbelief as he starts to ask him if he didn’t see Spyke hooking the tights. The ref tells him no as Spyke makes his way back up to his feet. Aaron doesn’t give him time to recover fully as he follows up with clubbing blows to the back. Spyke stumbles back down to one knee but forces himself up to a hard right to the face. He staggers back and delivers a right of his own that makes Aaron stumble back and retaliate with a harder right hand blow of his own.

 

Suicide King

I smell a slug fest brewing!

 

Spyke winces in pain and delivers a dead weight jab to the face of Starr, he follows up with another jab, and concludes it with a third boxing jab before looking around as though he can hear someone from behind him calling in the crowd. His head jerks back to focus on a wobbling Aaron Starr to whom he delivers an unexpected back handed slap to.

 

 

Mak Francis

And another “classy” move by Spyke.

 

Taking the arm of a dazed Aaron Starr he Irish whips him to the ropes. Aaron rebounds back and leaps into the air, catching Spyke off guard he goes for a high impact DDT and impales Spykes head into the mat, sending the ever cocky Spyke rolling around on the mat as he clenches the back of his neck . Aaron lays there breathing hard for several seconds before he favors the ribs again and makes it to his feet using the rope as support. Slowly making his way over to Spyke he releases the ribs and uses both arms to drag Spyke to the center of the ring. Looking to the rafters the crowd cheers him on as they have an idea of what he has in mind before he bounces off the ropes and delivers a running leg drop on the chest of Spyke who stops favoring the neck and is now laying motionless. Aaron makes his way to the turnbuckle and climbs up to the third rope and claps three times to get the crowd behind him. As the crowd begins to amp him up he turns his back to Spyke and balances himself on the top rope before leaping into the air backwards at a height not commonly seen in the SWF to deliver the moonsault.

 

Mak Francis

THE PERFECT MOONSAULT!

 

Spyke rolls out the way as Aaron comes back down but the lightning fast superstar lands on his feet. Dropping to one knee as his legs shake from the force of the impact, Aaron Starr makes his way back up to both feet as Spyke now does the same. Spyke goes after the leg of Aaron with a quick kick but Aaron moves his leg out the way and takes a few steps back to once again use the ropes to catapault himself towards Spyke, limping along the way. As he comes back on the offense he goes for the cross body but Spyke catches him in midair for what looks like it could be a flapjack but Spyke drops his own weight back on the ropes with Aaron still in his arms and uses the ropes resistance to push himself back and deliver a spine buster in the center of the ring to Aaron Starr

 

Mak Francis

WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT!?

 

Suicide King

I don’t know but I freaking liked it! Lets get a replay of that!

 

A replay of the flapjack to spinebuster is played as the now motionless Aaron is laying in the ring as Spyke holds his arms out as if to say “Come on, you know that was impressive” before he walks over to the corner and leans up on the turnbuckle to catch his breath as he holds the ribs again and wipes off the sweat from his forehead. Gradually taking his time he makes his way over to Aaron Starr picking him off the mat he holds up the groggy Starr up by placing his right hand on his face before taking his arm and Irish whipping him into the corner turnbuckle. The crowd gasps at the impact as Spyke takes a deep breath before following up with a clothesline that drops Starr into the seated position. Clapping for the crowd to get behind him as they only continue to boo him he walks away with a cocky strut to the opposite side only to turn around and dash back to the corner where Starr is sitting. Aaron opens his eyes and covers his face as Spyke stops himself by placing his hands on the third rope and lifts himself into the air.

 

Suicide King

A freaking hand stand on the top rope!

 

Coming back down with a driving force Spyke hits the bottom pole as Aaron takes the two seconds Spyke held himself up to roll out the way. Both men on the mat now, Aaron crawls away from Spyke and uses the ropes to pull himself back up. Still favoring the leg he limps to Spyke and goes for the unorthodox pin.

 

Eddy Long

ONE..........TWO............

 

Spyke kicks out. Aaron breaks the pin but covers again, hooking the leg this time.

 

Eddy Long

One...........Tw

 

Spyke kicks out faster this time causing Aaron to snap his fingers before he gets back up and pulls Spyke off the mat who is favoring his ribs. Aaron delivers a quick arm wrench followed by a clubbing elbow to the arm. Letting go of his ribs Spyke aimlessly swings to break the hold but Aaron wrenches the arm causing Spyke to drop to one knee briefly. As he gets back up on two feet Aaron looks around as though he’s calculating his next move. Twisting the arm behind Spyke’s back he looks to go for the submission but Spyke counters with a elbow to the face that loosens the grip. He follows up with another elbow that Aaron staggers back from and a third elbow that breaks the hold. Spyke looks back at Starr and runs to the opposite ropes. As he rebounds back Starr drops to the mat and Spyke leaps over him slinging into the ropes as Starr gets back up and delivers an arm drag that sends Spyke sliding across the apron once more but Spyke gets back up and charges right into a dropsault by Starr.

 

Mak Francis

And the impressive drop-sault from Aaron Starr. Spyke isn’t looking as cocky as he did at the start of this contest.

 

Suicide King

That’s all good. I think he still has something in store for Aaron tonight

 

Mak Francis

Well he better because if he doesn’t DVS better back their bags and head back to the Desolate Vicinity Stadium they call home.

 

Suicide King

Desolate....Vicinity Stadium?

 

Mak Francis

Yeah....D.V.S.

 

Aaron gets back to his feet as a dazed Spyke is on all fours catching his breath. Aaron makes his way to Spyke and hovers over him like a vulture. Unable to wait for him to get to his feet He goes to grab him by the hair, ripping off his du-rag in the process. He tosses it to the side and the referee kicks it out the ring as he once again grabs Spyke by the head and picks him up. Holding him as Spyke did earlier with one hand on his face, Aaron signals for the end.

 

Mak Francis

HE’S GOING TO BE SEEING STARRS IN A MOMENT!

 

Taking a slight leap into the air to get momentum for the dropkick to the knee Spyke takes the opportunity and smacks Aarons hand away from his face. Placing his hands around the back of Starrs neck as he’s in air he places his head under his chin and delivers a jaw breaker as he drops to his knees.

 

Suicide King

WHAT A REVERSAL!

 

A loud “OOOOOOOH”fills the arena as the crowd can only imagine the pain Aaron is feeling as he pops back into the ropes that shove him back to Spyke who gets back up and bends over to hook the leg of Aaron Starr and takes him up on his shoulders securing the neck in the process

 

Mak Francis

He’s going for some sort of wrist clutch argentine....

 

Suicide King

...with a leg cradle.

 

Spyke spins in a lightning fast circle three times and dumps Starr right on his neck. With his legs holding down the arms and Aaron having no way to fight the pressure being applied as Spyke is still hooking the leg for the pin. Eddy Long slides across the mat to make sure the shoulders are down on the mat and he begins the count.

 

Mak Francis

I don’t know what he calls that but IT’S GOT TO BE OVER!

 

Eddy long hits the first count as the crowd aids him.

 

Crowd

ONE!..........

 

He hits the second.

 

Crowd

TWO!!...........

 

The crowd counts it before his hand even hits the mat but sure enough

 

THREE!!!

 

Eddy gets to his knees and signals for the end of the match as Spyke unhooks Aarons leg and shoves it away as he rolls away from the body of Aaron and gets back to his feet. “...AND DON’T YOU WISH YOU WERE ME” blares on the loud speakers as Spykes theme starts up and Eddy makes his way over to him.

 

Funyun

And The WINNER of this match....SPYKE!

 

Referee Eddy Long raises Spykes hand in victory but Spyke yanks his arm away to hold his ribs as he makes his way to the ropes and drops out from the bottom rope. Making his way over to Funyun, he signals for the microphone which Funyun hands over.

 

Spyke

Cut the music.....

 

Panting to catch his breath

 

CUT THE MUSIC!

 

His music dies down.

 

Spyke

First off....What kind of name is Funyun? You sound like a bag of chips.

 

The crowd boos

 

Secondly...What’s wrong with you people? You stand there and you boo me? You boo ME!!!? Did you not hear me earlier? I am here to save you people from the same mundane garbage you sit here and pay to watch week after week. I provide for you the absolute best of the best and you boo me? I know I am new to this place but is this Bizzaro Land? Is this Canada? What the hell? I lay before you in the center of that ring the first of many sacrificial lambs and this is what I get from you bunch of ungrateful mongrels ? Screw this...HIT MY DAMN MUSIC!

 

Spyke tosses the microphone as his music starts up and makes his way back up the ramp as he ignores the fans disapproval of him.

[Toxxic 0]

General Manager Toxxic is manning the halls in a particularly surly mood. He stops in his tracks when he hears music in the distance.

 

“Touch my body….put me on the floor….wrestle me around … play with me some more ….”

 

“What the hell?” Toxxic asks himself, and walks to a door that is ostensibly the source of the music. He opens it ready to put his foot down.

 

 

“What the bloody hell is going on here?!” he asks, as in front of him is a DJ spinning tunes, and The Fabulous Jakey dancing next to him, with a party hat and an unidentified drink in his hand.

 

“Are you even allowed to use this room?” Toxxic asks.

 

“Toxxic,” Jakey whines. “It’s my BIRTHDAY PARTY!”

“Aw, yeah?” Toxxic asks. “How old are ya now? 38, 39?”

“22,” Jakey says, then touches his face in worry. “Why, am I looking old?”

Jakey turns to the DJ who asks for moral support, but he turns away.

 

“I take it there’s not a guest list,” Toxxic muses.

“They’re all coming later,” Jakey says defensively.

“Whatever,” Toxxic scoffs. “Some of us have actual work to do around here.”

 

Toxxic leaves. Jakey incredulously turns to the DJ.

 

“I don’t even think he said ‘happy birthday’,” Jakey whines. “We used to be in Rev-Zero together. It was a good time.”

Jakey takes a swig of his drink. The DJ is not listening.

 

***

Edited July 17, 2008 by Toxxic

[Toxxic 0]

"Ladies and Gentlemen," Funyon says, "Our following contest is scheduled for one-fall, and is a tag team match! The referee for this match will be Eddy Long!"

 

*The camera pans to the ring as Eddy Long stands in the corner*

 

*Monster by The Automatic starts up as Liam Neeson's voice fills the arena: 'It's time to spread the word. And the word is… Panic'*

 

"Introducing first, one half of the Sensation Academy! Weighing in at 312 lbs! This is, Pannnnniiiic!" Funyon says.

 

*Panic doesn't appear until the chorus kicks in, at which point he comes out waving his arms: 'WHAT'S THAT COMING OVER THE HILL, IS IT A MONSTER, IS IT A MONSTAAAAAH!?' Panic makes his way down the ramp and up the steel steps before entering the ring*

 

*'Don't Believe The Hype' by Public Enemy starts up in the arena*

 

"And his tag team partner, weighing in at 242 lbs! from Nottingham, England! Daaaannnnny Meadddoooows!" Funyon says.

 

*Danny walks out onto the stage, staring at the ring and heading down the ramp. He slides into the ring under the bottom rope*

 

Funyon raises the microphone, "Introducing next, weighing in at a combined weight of 429 lbs! Both hailing from Canada! Kevin Riggs and X-Punk.. And they are Teeeeam Canaaaada!"

 

*The lights dim and a red maple leaf is projected onto the entrance from the ceiling of the arena. Both Kevin Riggs and X-Punk walks out from the curtain, holding their Canadian flags, waving them high and proud. They continue to make their way to the ring, smiling and looking around at the audience. X-Punk stops about halfway and points out to Kevin Riggs, a sign that a fan is holding which says "We love the SWF!". They nod and laugh and continue to the ring. X-Punk rolls into the ring, under the bottom rope and Kevin Riggs walks the steps waving his flag before entering the ring through the middle and top ropes. The two get up on opposite corner turnbuckles in the ring and wave their respected flags before passing them to an outside official*

 

Mak Francis: "You know Suicide King, I'm anxious to see these two newcomers in action. I've heard a lot of good things about them."

 

King: "Mak, they haven't even begun wrestling yet and your already kissing ass. Let's just sit back and see where these four wrestlers go. Two young new tag teams, both hungry for competition, let's see who comes out on top."

 

*Both teams are in their respected corners as the referee checks for weapons of other foreign objects that could come into play during the match. It looks like X-Punk and Panic are going to start the match, as their partners move to the outside of the ropes on the apron, staying close to their tag ropes. Eddy Long signals for the bell!*

 

*DING! DING! DING!*

 

X-Punk and Panic walk around looking at each other before moving closer towards one another. X-Punk catches Panic with a headlock and begins to wrench it in. Panic elbows X-Punk in the side and then forces him into the ropes. X-Punk bounces off the ropes and nails a dropkick to right knee of Panic as he goes down to the mat. X-Punk grabs a hold of Panics right leg and locks in a one legged crab. Panic slowly moves towards the ropes. X-Punk applies more pressure to the submission but just then Panic manages to grab ahold of a bottom rope. X-Punk doesn't release the hold.

 

*The referee counts, ONE, TWO, THREE*

 

X-Punk releases the hold and drags Panic over to Team Canada's corner as Kevin Riggs holds on to the tag rope and streches out and gets tagged in by X-Punk. X-Punk holds up Panics right leg as Kevin Riggs kicks his knee. Panic rolls around the mat clutching his knee. He slowly tries to make his way over to The Academies corner. Kevin Riggs picks up Panic and places him on the top turnbuckle by Team Canada's corner. Riggs gets up on the second rope and delivers a belly to back suplex!

 

King: "You know Mak, so far, I'm impressed by Team Canada, they are working as a cohesive unit right now against Toxx's students."

 

Mak: "Your right about that. Panic desperately needs to tag in Danny Meadows."

 

Kevin Riggs stands up and poses for the audience as X-Punk claps from the apron outside of the ropes. Just then Panic manages to roll over and tag in Danny Meadows. Panic rolls to the ouside of the ropes as Meadows gets into the ring and delivers a clothesline to Riggs. Riggs gets up quickly and Meadows delivers another clothesline. X-Punk, realizing the trouble his partner is in, enters the ring and Meadows delivers a clothesline to X-Punk. Kevin Riggs just then hits Meadows with an axehandle to the back of the head. X-Punk is up and he and Riggs grab ahold of Meadows and whip him into the opposite ropes and nail a double back body drop. X-Punk goes back to the outside of the ropes.

 

Kevin Riggs picks up Meadows and body slams him in front of Team Canada's corner. He reaches out and tags in X-Punk who ascends to the top rope. He stand tall on the ropes and nails a frog splash. Cover by X-Punk!

 

ONE..

 

TWO..

 

KICK OUT!

 

Mak: "It was almost over, right there! Almost a three count."

 

King: "What gave you that idea Mak?"

 

X-Punk can't believe it! He picks up Danny Meadows and irish whips him into the ropes. Meadows grabs ahold of the ropes and then falls into the Sensational Academies corner and tags in Panic who is right there for the tag. Panic enters the ring and runs at Punk. Punk with a drop toe hold into an STF! Meadows comes over and kicks Punk in the head. The referee removes Meadows from the ring and tells him to get back to the outside of the ropes. Punk gets up and begins to talk trash to Meadows. X-Punk turns around to focus his attention on Panic but Panic with a small package!

 

ONE..

 

TWO..

 

KICK OUT!

 

Mak: "Turning your back to your opponent in any match is a bad idea King. I don't think X-Punk will be trying that one again anytime soon."

 

King: "We'll see Mak. I think these Team Canada guys know what they are doing. Then again, The Sensational Academy are Toxx's students, I'm sure he's taught them plenty before this match."

 

X-Punk is up and goes to kick Panic but Panic catches his leg. X-Punk with an Enzuguri! X-Punk picks up Panic by the head and whips him into Team Canada's corner. X-Punk tags in Kevin Riggs who then joins X-Punk in a series of kicks to Panic. Panic falls in the corner, sitting there. X-Punk hops to the outside of the ring and holds on to Panic's arms as Kevin Riggs runs around the ring and delivers a dropkick to the chest of Panic. X-Punk hopes back up onto the apron and Kevin Riggs takes control of Panic. Riggs irish whips Panic into a corner and immediately runs at him but Panic moves out of the way. Panic then delivers a series of shoulders to Riggs mid section in the corner. Panic whips Riggs into the Academies corner. Panic tags in Meadows and as he enters the ring Panic holds Riggs' right arm above his head and Meadows kicks under his arm. Panic to the outside.

 

Meadows then delivers a headbutt to Riggs, who falls to the mat. Meadows with a series of leg drops to Riggs. X-Punk is calling for a tag from their corner. Riggs tries to make it to the corner but Meadows grabs ahold of Riggs' legs and flips him around and puts him in a sharpshooter. Riggs is in pain!

 

Mak: "This could be it right here, King!"

 

King: "Don't be so naieve, Mak. We both know this isn't over yet."

 

Kevin Riggs is slowly crawling towards the corner. Meadows releases the hold and puts Riggs in a figure four leg lock. Riggs is screaming and trying to reach X-Punk for a tag. Riggs reaches high, trying to reverse the figure four on Meadows. Riggs has Meadows up vertically in the hold and manages to reverse it! Panic comes into the ring to break the hold and the referee focuses attention on Panic. Just then Riggs tags in X-Punk who enters the ring and goes for Meadows, with a kick to the gut and then a DDT followed by a standing moonsault! X-Punk covers! The referee turns around and realizes X-Punk is in the ring and tells him to get out and bring Riggs back in. Riggs and X-Punk both argue with the referee.

 

Mak: "The referee didn't see the tag."

 

King: "We clearly know he tagged in X-Punk, we all saw him!"

 

Mak: "Well, King, it doesn't work like that. The referee is only going to go by his own judgement on what happened."

 

King: "Maybe he's predjudice!"

 

Mak: "Don't even start, King."

 

X-Punk goes to the outside of the ropes and Riggs re-enters the ring. He picks up Meadows by the head and delivers a brainbuster! Riggs goes for a pin!

 

ONE..

 

TWO..

 

KICK OUT!

 

Meadows sits up, and Riggs can't believe it and turns to X-Punk who also cannot believe it. Meadows with a backslide!

 

ONE..

 

TWO..

 

KICK OUT!

 

Riggs rolls over and gets to his feet. He kicks Meadows in the gut and suplexes him to the mat. Riggs rolls Meadows over and locks in a cobra clutch. Panic is in the ring and goes to break up the hold but X-Punk is one step ahead of him, superkicking Panic right in the jaw. The referee doesn't know what to do. X-Punk rolls Panic to the outside and then exits the ring outside to the mat. Kevin Riggs releases the hold, picks up Meadows and nails the Rush V2!

 

Mak: "That seems to be his own version of the last rites!"

 

Cover by Riggs!

 

ONE..

 

TWO..

 

THREE..

 

*DING! DING! DING!*

 

Funyon stands up from the outside. "Ladies and Gentlemen, the winner of this match, the team of X-Punk and Kevin Riggs... Teeeeeam Caaaanada!"

 

*X-Punk rolls into the ring and celebrates with Kevin Riggs. Kevin Riggs signals for a microphone from Funyon. Funyon walks over to the ring and passes Riggs a microphone. X-Punk gets handed their Canadian flags*

 

Kevin Riggs: "For those of you who don't know us. We are, Team Canada and we are simply the epitome of tag team wrestling."

 

*X-Punk moves closer to the microphone*

 

X-Punk: "No, we are the epitome of wrestling, period."

 

*X-Punk gets handed an extra mic*

 

X-Punk: "Let me start off by apologizing to Taiga Star. You see, Taiga and I have been the best of friends to bitter enemies. We have had some of the most brutal battles in DVS history. But yet, she gave us this opportunity to come to the SWF, and no matter what anyone thinks. We are grateful. In fact, I will say that I am deeply sorry, to Taiga. We're going to make the most out of our opportunity here.

 

Let us put everyone on notice, the DVS has made a presence, and we are here to stay. All, I have to say in closing is that if anyone gets in our way, prepare to be taken care of. We don't stop, until we get what we want."

 

*The crowd gives a mixed reaction as X-Punk and Riggs drop their mics. They turn to exit the ring and see Taiga making her way down the ramp, pointing and yelling. Not much can be heard, as she has no mic, but certain things can be heard, like "This is what you do with the oppertunity?" and "I should have known that you would pull this shit." Team Canada is yelling back at her. Before Taiga has the chance to start anything, Jammer comes out from the back to stop her. He speaks at her in a low voice, and whatever he said, it calms Taiga down. Only a little though. He practically pulls her to the back, as Taiga stares and points at X-Punk.*

 

*X-Punk and Riggs exit the ring. Waving their flags as they make their way up the ramp and through the curtain*

 

 

[Toxxic 0]

 

Back in the party room, Amy Stephens is the only guest, dancing with Jakey with the DJ.

 

“Is anybody even coming to your party?” Amy asks.

“Megan Skye said she was coming,” Jakey says.

“Do you like her more than me?” Amy says with a look of scorn, backing Jakey up against the wall.

“N-n-no,” Jakey says with a whimper.

“This party sucks,” Amy observes.

 

***

[Toxxic 0]

"The following contest is scheduled for one fall and th official of the match will be Eddy Long!" announces Funyon. "Introducing first, he is from Stone Creek Ohio. He is weighing in at two hundred and twenty three pounds. From the DVS, he is Hardcore Jammer!"

 

"Let it Out" pumps through the speakers of the arena. Jammer steps out through the curtain to a chorus of cheers. He stops at the top of the ramp and raises his arms into an 'X' above his head. He brings them down into crotch chops out towards the audience. The crowd is going crazy at the moment, and he starts down the ramp slapping hands with the fans in the front row. Jammer slides into the ring and climbs the nearest turnbuckle. He does a couple taunts and the crowd cheers more. He takes off his red shirt and throws it into the audience, he then jumps off the turnbuckle and stands against the ropes waiting for his opponent.

 

"And his opponent." Funyon says into his microphone. "From the edge of reality, weighing in at two hundred and forty pounds. 'The Paladin' Chance Silver!"

 

Funyon leaves the ring as the slow methodical music plays. Chance Silver walks through the curtain, with his silver hair glowing in the lights. The crowd echoes out into a chorus of boos. He simply walks down the ramp and enters the ring. He stands in the center of it and begins to braid his hair. Jammer stands in the corner, he moved to, and watches impatiently. Chance Silver begins to pray. Jammer starts to tap his foot and get anxious. Eddy Long walks over to Jammer and checks him for foreign weapons. He then walks over to Chance Silver and does the same. He calls for the bell.

 

Ding! Ding! Ding!

 

Jammer and Chance Silver meet in the center of the ring. They stand nose to nose, staring into each others eyes. Jammer then takes a few steps back and extends his hand for a gesture of good graces. Chance looks down at it, the hand, and then back up to Jammer's face. He then shakes the hand but before letting go, he kicks Jammer in the gut. Jammer folds over as the crowd shows disapproval of this action. Chance follows that up with a chop to the sternum. Jammer falls back against the ropes. Chance with an Irish whip. Jammer bounces off the ropes, ducks a clothesline, bounces off the other side of the ring, and catches Chance with a shoulder block. Jammer bounces off the ropes and hops over Chance, who is laying face down on the mat, hits the other ropes. He rebounds and catches Chance with a diving forearm.

 

"Jammer is pretty much in control here." says Mark Francis. "He could have this wrapped up quickly!"

 

"Thats true, Mark." fires back Suicide King. "But that Chance Silver has been known to play dirty."

 

Jammer gets poked in the eye when he bends over Chance to pick him up.

 

"Told ya!" says Suicide King.

 

Jammer stumbles back trying to clear his vision as Chance gets to his feet. He then clotheslines Jammer over the top rope. Jammer hits his head off the canvas and lands hard on the floor. Eddy Long starts his ten count.

 

One.

 

Two.

 

Three.

 

Four.

 

Jammer gets groggily to his feet. He stumbles around on the outside. He tries to shake the cob webs loose as he turns toward the ring Chance is bouncing off the far side of the ropes. He runs with a full head of steam and dives through the middle rope and lands on Jammer. They both crash to the floor and lay there while Eddy Long again starts to count.

 

One.

 

Two.

 

Three.

 

Four.

 

Five.

 

Chance is the first to his feet. He kicks Jammer before rolling back into the ring. Jammer rolls in pain.

 

Six.

 

Seven.

 

Jammer gets up, assisted by the ring apron, and rolls back into the ring. Chance stands in the corner praying while Jammer gets to his feet. Chance suddenly turns around and bounds at Jammer nailing a Yakuza Kick. Jammer falls back into the corner. Chance Irish whips Jammer into the other corner. He chases Jammer into the corner only to get a boot to the face. Chance falls to the ground holding his face.

 

"Jammer seems to have good ring presents when he has full vision." Francis says. "He knew exactly when to raises his leg for that boot."

 

"Yeah, but he's from the DVS!" The Suicide King comes back with. "I've heard those guys are really dumb!"

 

Jammer grabs Chance's legs and locks in the Sharpshooter. Eddy Long drops to his knees and asks Chance if he surrenders. Chance looks as if he's in pain. He raises his hand as if he's going to tap. But he refuses to. Eddy Long keeps checking as Jammer wrenches down on the hold. But to no one's surprise, being to close to the ropes, Chance grabs the rope. Eddy Long tries to get Jammer to break the hold. Jammer keeps wrenching on it as Eddy Long starts a count.

 

One.

 

Two.

 

Three.

 

Four.

 

Jammer lets go of the hold. The crowd at this point is booing Jammer. He plays to the crowd trying to get them back on his side before he hits a perfectly placed elbow drop. He hits a second elbow drop. Jammer pulls Chance to the middle of the ring. He tries a cover and Eddy Long goes to the mat to count the pin.

 

One.

 

Two.

 

Chance kicks out.

 

"That was a close one for Chance!" yells out Francis.

 

"I knew he could kick out of that wimpy elbow drop." says Suicide King.

 

Jammer helps him up just to plant him into the mat with a DDT. Jammer stomps on Chance, not once, nor twice, but three times. Jammer with a leg drop. Chance rolls away from another stomp attempt. He gets to his feet. Jammer goes for a right hand but Chance ducks. Jammer had so much force on his swing he spins around, and Chance locks in a sleeper hold! Jammer is struggling to get out of it. Jammer still struggling manages to get bent over with Chance now on his back, trying to add his weight to make Jammer fall to the ground. He locks his legs around Jammer's midsection. Eddy Long watching Jammer for signs of giving up. Jammer seems to be falling forward until he stumbles backwards and crashes Chance into the corner. That forced him to break the hold. Jammer is laying on the mat trying to catch his breath. Chance is first to his feet, he goes towards Jammer's head and grabs his hair. Jammer is being pulled up until he connects with a last ditch effort . . . A low blow that sends Chance to his knees in front of Jammer. Eddy Long yells at Jammer to watch it. The crowd echoes the arena with another chorus of boos. At this point Chance is holding his crotch as Jammer hits him with a right hand. Chance rocks back, and Jammer lands another and another. Chance looks out on his knees.

 

"The fans are really telling Jammer how they feel, King." Francis points out.

 

"Chance doesn't look to good after that shot to the testicles." King replies.

 

Jammer is up to his feet and hits a flipping neck breaker onto Chance. But Eddy Long got in the way and Jammer kicked him on the way over. Chance and Eddy Long are out on the canvas. The crowd still booing Jammer, but he doesn't seem to care. Jammer rolls out of the ring and heads for the announcer's table. He grabs the empty chair and throws it into the ring.

 

"Thanks for the chair guys!" Jammer yells to the announcers.

 

"Take it, just take the damn thing." Francis remarks back.

 

Jammer slides back into the ring and picks up the chair. He drives it into Chance's gut.

 

"They don't call him Hardcore Jammer for nothing, Mark" suicide King points out.

 

Jammer drops the chair to the ground and picks up Chance's limp body. He barely lifts him onto his shoulder, but he manages to hit a Slammer Jammer on the chair! Jammer throws the chair out of the ring. He goes over and shakes Eddy Long until he comes back to life, so to speak. Jammer with a hook of the leg. Eddy Long crawls over to make the count.

 

One.

 

Eddy barely able to slap the canvas.

 

Two.

 

Eddy raises his hand and drops it as he lays motionless on the mat.

 

Three!

 

Ding! Ding! Ding!

 

"The winner of the match by pin fall." announces Funyon. "Is Hardcore Jammer!"

 

Jammer rolls out of the ring to a chorus of boos. He stops at where the chair is laying. He picks the chair up and tosses it into the ring. He slides back into the ring and picks up the chair and stands holding it in the corner. Chance is finally starting to stir on the canvas. Jammer crouches in the corner and waits for him to stand up. He waits, and waits, and waits. Chance is finally standing, well groggily standing, on his feet.

 

"Chance!" yells Jammer.

 

Chance turns around just to catch a chair that Jammer threw at his face.

 

SMACK!

 

Jammer connected with a dropkick to the chair, which ended up slamming Chance in the face. Chance hits the ground out cold and Jammer stands over his limp body. The crowd is going crazy in hatred for this man. Jammer holds out his arms, as in the Raven taunt, as "Let it Out" erupts through the arena. He climbs through the ropes and hops off the ring apron. He starts up the ramp and stops at the top. He puts his arms back up into the 'X' and then exits the arena.

 

"Jammer looked like he was out to prove a point." says Francis.

 

"He did seem a little sadistic after the match was over." replies Suicide King.

 

"God only knows what else this man can do if he gets pissed off enough." adds Francis.

 

Scene fades to black.

 

[Toxxic 0]

“Fans, we are live backstage at the Jose Miguel Agrelot Coliseum for SWF Our Super Sweet Sixteen,” boasts Benjamin Hardy. “We have had an explosive show for you so far and it is only going to get better. But right now, we have the current SWF World Cruiserweight Champion, a man that will compete later tonight against an SWF Legend in a non-title bout!”

 

“Hollywood” Spike Jenkins steps into frame, next to Ben Hardy. Wearing his patent ‘Heartless’ black sweatshirt, he pats the Cruiserweight title that is hanging from his shoulder.

 

“Spike, a few weeks back at Next in Line, you’re Cruiserweight Championship crowning ceremony was UN-ceremoniously interrupted by the returning veteran, Divefire! What are your thoughts?”

 

A mixture of loathing and astonishment appears across the face of Jenkins as he looks down at Ben Hardy.

 

“What are my thoughts? That’s some impeccable work right there, Hardy. You’ve been with this company for several years now and you still don’t seem to have a clue of what is going on. Well, let me tell you my thoughts, Ben. I am not happy. I am not happy that some washed-up, has-been tried to bring himself back into the limelight by disrupting my ceremony. I’m not happy that he turned the lights off and attacked me from behind. And I am not happy that the SWF management and booking team are the ones behind this. So, Ben, my thoughts? I’m not happy.”

 

“Putting the management issue to the side, how are you feeling tonight for your match against Divefire? It is his first match in the SWF in several years and you are coming off a string of victories.”

 

“See, this is something that Divefire didn’t think of before he wanted to play superstar. I am the current reigning and defending SWF Cruiserweight Champion. I am top class, pound for pound, the best athlete in this company. There is nobody in this company that can touch me right now. I am at the top of my game and he is nowhere near the level he use to perform at. Tonight, the lights are going to be out and he won’t be able to throw around his little catch phrases. He isn’t lighting me on fire or anything of that sort. Tonight, Divefire is going to get hurt. He is old and washed-up.”

 

As Spike finishes up, out from the left side of the screen pops up Taiga Star!

 

“Looks like we have a guest with us,” cries out Ben Hardy.

 

Spike turns to look down at Star.

 

“Perfect timing!” he exclaims, which takes both Hardy and Star back by surprise.

 

“Huh?”

 

“Sweet heart, can you be a dear? Can you run out and pick me up a turkey and ham on rye, lettuce and tomato and a little bit of mayo?”

 

Taiga shakes her head in disbelief.

 

“…Is there a problem?” asks Jenkins.

 

“Don’t you know who I am?” Star asks, with confidence in her tone.

 

Jenkins eyes her, unsure of how to answer.

 

“Do you know who I am?” he asks dumbfounded.

 

“Yeah, you’re Spike Jenkins, the SWF Cruiserweight Champion.”

 

Jenkins smiles and nods in approval.

 

“Well, I’m Taiga Star and I’m challenging you for that championship!”

 

“…WHAT?”

 

“You heard me! At Next in Line, I defeated Dance Dance Dragon to earn a shot. And guess what? Now I’M next in line…FOR YOUR BELT! You better believe that when I get you, one-on-one, I am going to beat the hell out of you and finally win some gold here in the SWF!”

 

Taiga turns and storms off, feeling mighty good about herself after laying the challenge down. Spike turns back towards Ben, confused by the whole conversation.

 

“She wants me one-on-one? Ben, I don’t do fat chicks.”

 

Ben Hardy sighs.

 

“Back to you at ringside…”

 

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

 

"Welcome back to Our Super Sweet Sixteen!" Mak Francis screams over the noise of the crowd. "The crowd is pumped for what is shaping up to be a great show so far, LIVE here in America's largest territory, Puerto Rico!"

 

"Largest territory?" the Suicide King, seated next to Mak, scoffs. "Aren't you forgetting about Canada?"

 

"King, you did not just go there," Mak answers in disbelief. "We're back on the air for five seconds and you're already trying to alienate an entire country of fans? Not to mention the batch of talented wrestlers to have grown up in that great country!"

 

"Talented? Name one Canadian wrestler that made it big in the SWF."

 

"What about Alex Zenon?" says Mak, without missing a beat.

 

King nods. "I rest my case."

 

"Well, in any event, folks," continues Mak, "we've got a lot more action coming your way, and next up, a veteran performer returns for another run at SWF glory! And not just any performer, but my immediate predecessor here at the broadcast table!"

 

"Pursuit of Vikings" by Amon Amarth begins playing through the sound system of the Jose Miguel Agrelot Coliseum, and the next match's first competitor emerges on the stage, wearing only black trunks, boots, and knee pads. In the ring at the center of the Coliseum, the ring announcer, Funyon, begins his introductions.

 

"The following contest is scheduled for ONE fall! Making his way to the ring, from Stockholm, Sweden, weighing in at 262 pounds... representing the Four Norsemen... ARRRRRRRRRRNE ANNNNNNNDERSEEEEEENNNNN!"

 

There are a few boos for Andersen, but overall not much of a crowd reaction as Andersen makes his way to the ring, for his part mostly ignoring the indifferent crowd anyway. He climbs in and extends a hand to take the microphone from Funyon.

 

"I've got to say," Andersen begins, "I've been looking forward to taking on--"

 

"OH MY GOD! INCREDIBLE SUPERSTAR!"

 

The crowd erupts as "Baseline" by Quarashi cuts off whatever enlightening thing Andersen would have had to say about the match. Andersen's opponent walks on stage, dressed in a black leather jacket, jean shorts, and dark sunglasses. Funyon retrieves the microphone from the fuming Andersen to finish his introductions.

 

"And his opponent, from Miami, Florida, weighing in at 268 pounds... LOOOOOOOOONGDOGGERRRRRRR PEEEEEEEEEEETE!"

 

Pete walks down to the ring very slowly, allowing his music to play, and taking in the sights and sounds of the cheering fans. When he gets to the bottom of ramp, he climbs up the metal steps to the corner of the ring, then takes his jacket off, revealing a plain black T-shirt underneath, and drapes the jacket over the ring post (where some ring crew intern will undoubtedly grab it and move it out of the way momentarily).

 

"And here he is folks! Longdogger Pete, the Miami Menace himself, and your former colleague here at the broadcast table, King! Did you miss having him here as an announcer?"

 

"No," states King matter-of-factly, "though I must admit he didn't yammer on nearly as much as you do."

 

Mak ignores the barb from King. "LDP is getting a huge ovation from the fans here in Puerto Rico!"

 

"Well, of course he is," says King. "He's from Miami, and that's practically right next door!"

 

"You should check your facts, King," replies Mak. "Miami's over a thousand miles from here! Don't you ever use Google Earth?"

 

"Can't you get through one damn match without some sort of product placement?" counters King.

 

Pete climbs through the ropes into the ring, stepping close to Funyon and taking the microphone from him. Arne Andersen stays close, wanting to get his licks in as soon as possible while still waiting for the match bell to be rung and signal the official start of the match. Pete smiles as he addresses the crowd. "People of Puerto Rico!"

 

The audience pops again and Suicide King groans audibly over the announcer's feed; the cheap location mention being the surest and quickest way to get an audience to cheer.

 

Pete continues. "ARE... YOU... READY!"

 

The crowd plays along with Pete, finishing the catchphrase for him. "FOR THE LONGDOGGAH!"

 

Pete scratches his ear, feigning deafness in an obvious pander to the crowd. "I can't hear you! I SAID... ARE! YOU! READY!"

 

This time, Pete doesn't wait for the crowd to answer, instead immediately stepping forward, lifting the microphone up, and clubbing Arne Andersen over the head with it! There are collective gasps from the audience as Pete watches Andersen drop to the mat, then immediately goes to work on his fallen opponent, repeatedly kicking the downed competitor with his heavy boots.

 

Mak Francis gasps along with the crowd.

 

Suicide King, for his part, busts out laughing.

 

"What the hell is this?" asks a stunned Mak. "What is Pete doing? The match hasn't even started yet!"

 

"Looks like Pete's simply taking advantage of the situation!" snickers King.

 

Pete continues to kick at Andersen's ribs, getting a few more licks in despite the protestations of referee Nick Soapdish, who attempts to push Pete back in vain. Pete shoves the ref hard, knocking him back into a corner, and advances on Andersen again. By this time Andersen starts to get up, a hand on his head, looking a bit woozy as he struggles to get to his feet. Pete sweeps forward and knocks Andersen hard onto his back with a double leg pickup.

 

"Pete hits one of his old finishers, the Perfect Dark!" exclaims Mak. "But there's still no official start to the match! Wait--what's he doing now?"

 

Pete slides out of the ring, moving quickly to the timekeeper's table, and grabs and folds an unoccupied chair. That gets the referee's attention, as Nick Soapdish finally calls for the bell, but not the three rings of the start of the match, but instead the multiple chimes indicating a situation that has gotten out of hand.

 

DING-DING-DING-DING-DING-DING-DING-DING!

 

Pete ignores the bell, and slides back into the ring, raising the chair and dropping it across Andersen's chest with a resounding SMACK!

 

"What a harsh chairshot from Longdogger Pete!" shouts Mak. "But why this bizarre behavior?"

 

"Here comes Olaf!" exclaims King.

 

Sure enough, barreling down the ramp comes Arne's brother Olaf Andersen in an apparent attempt to avenge his brother's attack. This attempt is short lived, however, because Pete merely waits for Olaf to attempt to climb up onto the ring apron, and then slams the chair down on his head. CRACK! Olaf, laid out, drops off the apron to the mat below.

 

Pete drops the chair, surveys the chaos he has caused, and leans down to pick up the microphone again.

 

"Looks like we're about to get an explanation," says Mak.

 

"ARE YOU READY..." shouts Pete on the microphone, "to see what LDP is going to accomplish this time around? The answer is that there are no limits. I'm tired of the straight and narrow, the honorable route. Whta did that accomplish me? Nothing. Respect? From who? It took almost two years away from the business before anyone even called to see how I was doing! Nobody gives a damn about the things I've done. So it's time to make a statement."

 

Pete idly kicks at Arne Andersen's still form in disgust. "What you see here is but the first example. Longdogger Pete is on his way to the top, no matter what it takes or who or what gets left in his wake. And to anyone in the back that thinks otherwise, I've got a special message for you."

 

Pete's eyes narrow as he glares toward the empty stage. "Get out... of my way."

 

"Baseline" begins playing again as Pete throws the mic down on the mat, narrowly missing another collision with one of the Andersen brothers. The audience has turned on Pete, but that's certainly to be expected, and nothing Pete doesn't anticipate. Pete climbs out of the ring and begins walking up the ramp, ignoring the booing SWF fans.

 

"Well, it looks like we have our answer," reports Mak Francis. "Pete looks to be a man on a mission, and he'll plow through anybody who gets in his way!"

 

"I think I like this new side of Pete," says King. "The guy's showing some determination for once, and he's got the size and strength to back up his words!"

 

"These actions are sure to have serious repercussions," says Mak, "but enough about that. Folks, we've got to take a break, but we'll be right back with our next match, LIVE from Puerto Rico!"

Edited July 17, 2008 by Toxxic

[Toxxic 0]

Toxxic is again walking past the party room when he hears even louder music – and this time, actual people! Toxxic bashes open the door, only to see the room filled with young and attractive locals, and along with a DJ there is now a bartender serving margaritas to enthusiastic blonde girls.

 

“WHAT THE HELL?” Toxxic yells.

“I’m a socialite, Toxx,” Jakey explains as a bubble machine starts occupying the room with décor.

“You’re gonna be paying for any damages,” Toxxic says.

“That’s fine,” Jakey says. “Oh, I think I might have promised at least three guys a title shot. They offered to help with the margaritas.”

“Jesus Christ,” Toxxic whispers.

[Toxxic 0]

Ladies and Gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one-fall!!" Funyon announces in a big voice. "Introducing first, weighing in at one hundred and 'none of your damn business' pounds and hailing from Helltown, Haverhill, Massachusetts... TAAAIIGAAAA STAARRR!"

 

 

 

Be a Man hits and the lights go crazy for the first few riffs of the song. Then after the pause, purple lasers stream from the entrance as Taiga Star steps out and starts down the ramp. She doesn't seem as jovial as usual, but is still acknowledging the fans that reach for her.

 

 

 

"Now, it's been established that Taiga Star has not made friends with her DVS cohorts this evening. Between that and the heat, she's quite irritable tonight." Mak Francis says.

 

Suicide King turns to his commentary partner. "I don't think Taiga can make friends, Mak. There's a reason why she claims to be a loner."

 

 

 

Taiga slides into the ring under the bottom rope and pops up, standing with arms raised high in the middle of the ring. Her music dies down and she begins idly stretching against the ropes.

 

 

 

"And introducing her opponent," Funyon continues with the introductions, "weighing in at two hundred and forty pounds and hailing from Detroit, Michigan.... ORRRRDEN NOAASSSSH!!!"

 

 

 

Going Under begins and the lights dim. Orden comes out wearing his leather trench coat, which flares in his wake. He snarls at the fans who boo him in return. He slides into the ring, takes off his coat, and drops it to the floor. He glares at Taiga with icy, penetrative eyes. Taiga isn't intimidated. Referee Brian Warner checks both for international objects before calling for the bell.

 

 

 

DING!

 

 

 

Orden continues staring Taiga down (and we do mean down) and Taiga is not impressed with the display of creepiness. Taiga offers up the test of strength, via knuckle-lock. Orden obliges, lacing fingers with her. Just as Orden begins to push her back, Taiga stomps on his foot!

 

He hops around a little and Taiga releases one of his hands and gets the other into a hammerlock. Orden reaches behind him, grabs Taiga's head, and pulls her up and over in front of him. She lands solidly on her ass and Orden kicks her in the small of the back.

 

 

 

"Now that's just unnecessary, King!" says Mak. "Nobody likes getting kicked in the back!"

 

 

 

Taiga is visibly angered ad she gets up to glare at Orden. Then she fires in some kicks, one to the side, one to the other side, then she follows it off by drop-kicking his knee, making the leg come out from under him. Now on the mat, she attempts to grab his leg for some submission, but Orden shoves her off with his feet.

 

Orden is up. Taiga lunges for him and he moves aside, feeding her into the ropes. She bounces off and runs under Orden's clothesline attempt. On the rebound, she runs right under it again. On the third pass, Orden forgets about the clothesline and knocks her down with his shoulder. She is up quickly though, and dares him to do it again. Taking the challenge, Orden gets up some steam and runs right for her... but she moves aside and trips him!!

 

Taiga tries once again to tie up his legs, but he kicks her off again. Orden grabs her and slings her into the corner, where he follows in with a clothesline, followed by a bulldog that drives her face into the canvas. Orden hooks a leg.

 

 

ONE!

 

TWO!!

 

 

Taiga kicks out rather easily.

 

 

 

"It's too early in this match for someone to get the pin-fall yet." says Mak.

 

King turns to him. "Orden has a foot plus height difference on her. I bet he's trying to end this early."

 

 

 

Indeed he is trying to end it early, picking Taiga up on his shoulders for the Darkness death valley driver. Taiga wiggles out of it down his back and maneuvers into a backpack lung-blower! She pulls him up and whips him into the corner, where she runs in at his midsection with several shoulder tackles. She pulls him out of the corner, across the ring, but Orden reverses and sends Taiga into the corner instead. He runs in after her with a clothesline but she rolls out of the way. Orden connects awkwardly in the corner with his arm, causing it to bend the wrong way.

 

 

 

"Damn," says King, "That's got to hurt!"

 

"Indeed, human arms are not meant to bend that way." Mak says.

 

 

 

Orden is shaking out his hand and arm. He has no problems moving it, it seems, but he's in obvious pain. Taiga zones in on this and begins to focus on the arm. She pulls on it, swinging him into the ropes, but with his other arm, he about knocks her head off with a powerful uppercut. Taiga seems to be out on her feet. Orden takes the opportunity to pick her up (being mindful of his arm) across his shoulders into a Torture rack. He bounces with it, making Taiga flop around like a rag doll. He then turns it into a back-breaker! Taiga clutches her back and cries out as she is covered for the pin.

 

 

ONE!

 

TWO!!

 

 

Taiga gets a shoulder up, and st the same time, rolls through and grabs the arm. She has it hammer-locked behind him, with Orden face-down on the mat and Taiga riding his back, wrenching away at the injured limb. He turns his body around, trying to get Taiga off his back. She moves, but still has a hold of the arm. She places one of her feet in the armpit, one on his shoulder, and pulls his arm out to his side.

 

 

 

"What, is she trying to pull his arm out?" King says.

 

"It's an effective strategy, working over the injured arm. Everyone saw how Orden took that move in the corner. Ms. Star would be stupid not to take advantage of that. Anything for a win." Mak says.

 

"There you go, cheering for the heels again!" King chides.

 

"Taiga's not a heel! Just... call the match!"

 

 

 

Orden moves, pulls himself to the ropes. He reaches with his other arm, and the length of his limbs makes it easy to grab the bottom rope with his hand. The referee makes the count, and she breaks it at three. Taiga waits for him to get up. When he does, she kicks him in the side. Orden retaliates with a soccer kick to her head! She falls flat on the mat, where he goes for another cover...

 

 

ONE!

 

TWO!!

 

 

Taiga kicks out. Orden shakes his arm out again, cussing to himself. Taiga grabs the arm and pulls on it, then drops to the mat, jamming his arm with a chin-breaker type move. Orden rolls on the mat, clutching it. Taiga pulls the arm away from his body, lays it out flat, then drops some knees onto it. She then picks him up and leads him to the ropes by his arm. He fights her off with his other hand, raking her in the eyes. Taiga grabs her face in pain and Referee Warner admonishes him about the move. Orden grabs Taiga by the hair and lays in some vicious kicks to her back. She is down to her knees. Then he connects with a running knee to her face! Orden hooks a leg...

 

 

ONE!

 

TWO!!

 

 

Taiga kicks out! She grabs her head and shakes it out. Orden comes to kick her again, but Taiga grabs his leg and takes him down with a leg whip. Orden rolls out of it and back to his feet, where he runs at Taiga with a lariat!!! Which she runs right under. As she does, she grabs the arm and actually pulls off a very uncharacteristic lucha arm-drag!!

 

Orden rolls out of it and runs after Taiga again. She rolls out of the way. He turns around and tries to grab her again, and she rolls out between his legs. Infuriated, he lunges after her one more time. He barely gets a clubbing blow to her back, throwing her off a bit. She still manages to trip him however, and he lands hands-first on the canvas in front of him. Including his bad arm. Which he is holding gingerly, crying out in pain.

 

Taiga doesn't give him time to baby it however, grabbing said arm and kicking it several times. Then she locks in a cross arm-bar!! Orden screams and kicks, trying to use his other arm to unlock her legs from his chest. She kicks his arm away though and cranks in on the hold. Orden swings his legs back and forth, inching himself closer and closer to the ropes. In one last burst of energy, he heaves one long leg over and hooks it around the bottom rope. The referee counts, and Taiga releases before three.

 

Taiga pulls him back into the middle of the ring by his arm and begins to work on it again. This time, she has him on his front, sitting sideways on his back and pulling up on his arm between her legs. Orden screams and hovers his hand over the mat, trying desperately not to tap. She locks it in further, leaning way back and pulling his arm at a vicious angle behind him. Orden finally taps!!

 

 

*DING DING DING!*

 

 

Funyon makes the announcement. "Ladies and Gentlemen, the winner of your match via tapout... Taiigaaa Staaarrr!!"

 

 

Referee Warner raises Taiga's hand in the air, and the crowd cheers. Taiga looks down at Orden, asks if he is okay, and even helps him up. Taiga offers a handshake, but Orden just stares her down with that icy glare. He rolls out of the ring, the referee assisting him to the back. On the way, they pass X-Punk and Kevin Riggs coming down the ramp.

 

 

 

Taiga had turned around to thank the fans. When she turns back, she comes face to face with them. She knocks Riggs off the apron before he even gets into the ring. X-Punk swings at Taiga and misses. He then comes into the ring where Taiga kicks him in the gut and suplexes him over.

 

Riggs then comes into the ring, where he is met with Taiga's boot to his face. X-Punk is back up, where Taiga picks him up and drops him with a big body drop. Then Riggs is up. He takes Taiga out from behind, sending her to the mat, where X-Punk and himself can concentrate on giving Taiga the beat-down.

 

 

 

Out from the back runs Spyke! There is a moment of confusion as to what Spyke's purpose is for coming down... but that is quickly solved as he assists Team Canada with their beating of Taiga!! They take turns holding her back and punching her in the head. She continues to kick and scream and flail and is quite frankly hard to hold down.

 

Running down the ramp is Hardcore Jammer! He slides into the ring and pulls aside Spyke and begins yelling at his DVS coworkers. "What are you guys doing? How dare you beat up Taiga Star? After all she's done for us? How dare you do this... without me!!"

 

Now it's a four on one attack on Taiga! Spyke has Taiga's arms butterflied behind her as X-Punk punches her repeatedly. Riggs and Jammer slide out of the ring and rummage under it. They pull out a table and slide it into the ring. Then Riggs goes back under for a chair.

 

They roll back into the ring and Jammer begins to set up the table. Meanwhile, Riggs demands that Sypke let go of Taiga. He does so begrudgingly. Riggs slams the chair over Taiga's head!!! The crowd boos loudly.

 

 

 

Blood starts pouring out of Taiga's head as she lays in a heap on the mat. Jammer and Riggs grab her and set her on the top turnbuckle. She is still trying to fight them off, but Riggs and Jammer hold her arms down firmly. Blood is coming off her chin and dripping onto the mat. As she shakes her head, some of it flies off and gets onto her attackers.

 

X-Punk climbs the turnbuckle, in front of Taiga. Spyke is standing below, at the table, adjusting it for the perfect angle. Taiga makes one last attempt to save herself, by head-butting X-Punk several times, leaving a mess on his head. It is all but ineffective, as Riggs and Jammer lay in more blows. X-Punk grabs her... lifts her up... and sends her through the table with... a... SUPERPLEX!!!

 

 

The crowd erupts. "HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!! HOLY SHIT!!!"

 

 

X-Punk, Kevin Riggs, Hardcore Jammer, and Spyke all look down at the rubble, splinters, and corpse that lay in the ring. They are smiling, proud of their work. The crowd rains boos upon them, and get even louder as the DVS four raise their arms overhead and bow for their performance. They soak in the crowd's negativity and it makes them happy. They exit the ring, slapping hands and patting each other on the back.

 

 

On the way up the ramp, they cross a group of referees and trainers running down to check on Taiga. She fights them off... Taiga doesn't ever need help getting to the back! Taiga is the toughest girl ever! And such things Taiga says to the people trying to help her out of the mess.

 

She is not convincing them however, and her weak shoving them away isn't making them leave. With one last (albeit weak) shout, she pushes them off and stands up... where she falls flat on her face, leaving a face-shaped stamp on the mat in her blood. She is much less combative now (and much more knocked-out) and the trainers and referees can easily take her to the back to receive medical attention.

 

 

[Toxxic 0]

Three-bell cue. Adjusting his ear piece (note cards are for amateurs!), Mr. Funyon offers his professional enigmatic look into the hard camera and performs the duty as it is asked of him.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen; Our Super Sweet Sixteen continues with the following singles contest, set for one fall!"

 

The announcer marks a brief pause, allowing for The Beatles' hit 'Helter Skelter' to start playing over the El Choliseo's sound system. Inside the House That Agrelot Built, the faithful Puerto Ricans can't help but erupt in a cheer at the sound of the timeless rock classic, signifying the arrival of… well, one of two men actually.

 

"Introducing first: From Toronto, Ontario, Canada; weighing in at 237 lbs; Toood – Jaaaames – Stuart!"

 

The proud Torontonian comes out, as usual wearing his cheerful mood and happily giving his thanks to the lively crowd. Clad in his standard issue blue wrestling tights and his Wrestling Clinic, Tod Stuart embarks on a confident march towards the ring, bumping knuckles with the occasional front row fan in the entrance way. The brief trip culminates in a walk up the ring steps as he then wipes the sole of his wrestling boots on the ring apron as a sign of respect for those who paved the way before him. Heading for the nearest turnbuckle, he climbs up to the second rope and raises a proud fist to the cheering Puerto Rican masses. He quickly steps back down, wrestling out of his t-shirt. Rather than toss it out to the crowd, he takes a second to roll it up into a compact ball. With the tried and true "I point at your section and you cheer" routine, Tod deems the north section the most worthy as he assumes a pitching stance. With exaggerated fake-chaw spitting and yes/no head signals, he winds up for the pitch and curveballs the rolled up garment into the fifth row!

 

"Shades of Roberto Clemente as Tod James Stuart makes one fan happy here in Puerto Rico!" states Mak Francis over the music and cheering of the crowd.

 

"That's all well and good," adds Suicide King. "if only for the fact that Roberto Clemente was a prolific outfielder, and the whole stance was just wrong…"

 

"Singles action coming up as Tod James Stuart is basking in the approving roar of this San Juan crowd. I hear The Beatles were quite big in Puerto Rico, King. And I hear Paul McCartney's appearing in Quebec City on the 20th!"

 

"And I care to the sum of I don't give a crap!" replies King with perfect sarcasm. If Paulie is that hard up for cash that he has to go to the one city that I call France's Bitch, and THAT's saying something, I fear how the mighty has fallen for the old bastard."

 

 

"You can't help but feel that it's Do or Die tonight for Tod Stuart". says Mak, depthly changing the subject. "If you don't include his recent encounters with the Norsemen, he can't really brag about having a stellar win-loss record lately."

 

"And it's gotta be eating away at him." replies King. "No matter how average his track record may appear to be right now, this man is extremely proud of what he's done in this business for himself. It's the proverbial story of being told he couldn't do it. He's proved his critics wrong and he can't help being a little proud of that. But he's making the cardinal mistake of letting this pride get to him and this is carrying on to his tag team partner. A while ago, Tod had the chance to make a name for himself with a victory against the World champ. He lost. Just last month, his partner Daniel Smith had a chance to figuratively kick Munich when he was down in his first big time match… and he lost. And just like your doctor said when you told him you were done jogging the white sandy beaches of Malibu; you are absolutely correct. Tod needs this one badly tonight if he doesn't want his morale to take a major kick in the balls. Say, if I do that to you, do you still have feeling down there?"

 

"Tod James Stuart definitely looks focused, eagerly awaiting his opponent." says Mak, moving on like a pro.

 

With his entrance song finally faded out and having plenty played to the crowd, Tod finally settles himself into a corner while Juno Reactor's 'God Is God' fades in concurrence with the lights dimming out. As the smoke and spotlights come into play, the dark figure in the tattered cloak and hood comes into view on-stage. One can't help but wonder what goes through this man's mind as he gives a slow once-over to a crowd that has nothing but contempt for him.

 

"And his opponent…" begins Funyon. "Hailing from Denver, Colorado at 229 lbs. This man is one half of Slaughterhouse Five. This is the Savage Messiah. This is the Raging Bull. This… is… MAAAAN-SOOOON!!"

 

Under chants of "Hueles a mierda!", "Yo cago en la leche de tu puta madre!" and "Maricón!"; the man known as MANSON embarks on a determined walk towards the ring, where he wastes no time slipping underneath the bottom rope. Locking eyes with what he perceives to be his prey, he slowly backs away into the nearest corner and sheds himself from his accoutrements of his long cloak and the metal mask that partially covers his face. Like Jason Voorhees ripped from medieval times, Manson stares at Tod James Stuart with eyes of intensity that are true to his character, while the Canadian stares back with a confident smirk and a defiant chew of his minty Dentyne that he bought at customs. They don't sell his brand in San Juan.

 

While the lighting treatment returns to normal conditions and the music has come to a stop, referee Eddy Long is quick to get in center ring between both men. With a decisive wave of Long's finger, the bell resounds throughout El Choliseo, signaling the start of this match.

 

"Match is underway." states Mak Francis. "Two different styles colliding as we speak. Tod Stuart's refined mat games versus Manson's heavy striking offense, and a certain propensity, might I add, to bend the rules as he sees fit."

 

"And while I've certainly noted your slight sarcasm, I riposte by saying that there's absolutely nothing wrong with that. Sure, it's going to offend all the High And Mighties about not following the so-called reverred tradition of the sport. But put it simply; it gets the job done. Now what's this clown doing…?"

 

During the initial sizing up period, Stuart steadfastly maintains the smirk he's been sporting, ever-determined not to let Manson's intimidating demeanor rattle him. Before teasing the first collar and elbow tie-up of the match, Tod… shaves?! With taunting points at his opponent, Tod produces what appears to be an imaginary Gillette Mach 3 and begins fake-shearing away at his three-day old stub-… Scratch that, he tosses the imaginary Mach 3 and produces an imaginary Phillips Powershave! He pretends to plug it in and pretends to go to work on his non-existent massive beard…

 

"I'd be careful if I were that Beatle lovin' freak. He's attempting to get under the skin of the last guy you wanna play mind games with." warns Suicide King.

 

Our color man's warnings indeed prove to be validated as Manson looks on, clearly not amused. With an enraged roar, the Savage Messiah pounces with a left clothesline! But Tod had that one well-scouted indeed as he ducks the lunging blow and traps his opponent into a headlock! He tries to squeeze the most out of the early controlling hold, but Manson is not one to let himself get manhandled and embarrassed in the early stages of this match. With a forceful shove to the back, Tod is sent running to the ropes. On the return bounce, Manson rears back with another lunging clothesline attempt but it's handily ducked under by the Canadian. On the second bounce, Manson switches gears by bending down and attempting a back body drop. Thinking quickly as he can, Tod puts on the brakes, and latches on a front facelock! Immediately grinding it in, the Raging Bull is but an annoyed calf as he's on the mat being controlled by the Canadian.

 

"I'd say the mind games are actually working for Tod James Stuart." notices Mak. "Because the almighty MANSON is being out-wrestled in the opening seconds of this match!"

 

"He's playing Russian Roulette with a Derringer." warns King. "Manson's one of the most volatile competitors in this company, he could blow at any minute if this keeps up. And Tod James Stuart is playing haki sack with the detonator."

 

Rather than absorb Manson's attempt at fighting out of the hold, Tod simply relents, and goes one step further towards aggravating his opponent… by tussling his hair. Drawing a few faint Ooohs from the Puerto Rican crowd, both men are quick to regain their feet, albeit with opposite demeanors. Tod sports one of his favorite 'I got you right where I want you' smirks, while if looks could kill; Tod James Stuart would have been pronounced long ago and the service would've been a thing of beauty. Fuming, Manson charges ahead but Tod has that one scouted as well as he captures him in a quick collar and elbow lockup! Following it up with an arm twist, Stuart goes to the tried and tested route of working on Manson's left arm, but the Savage Messiah finally gets the opening he needs by burying some of his fingers deep into Stuart's eyes and face, which is enough to swing the momentum back in his favor. Ignoring Eddy Long's warning to keep it clean, Manson finally lets loose with a series of stiff forearm blows to the upper back that bring the Canadian to his knees. He punctuates the offensive barrage with a series of rough stomps to the head and some soccer kicks to the ribs that quickly has Stuart groaning on the mat.

 

"And what did I tell you." says King, confirming his very own belief. "Tod James Stuart tried to get cute with the Raging Bull, and look what it's getting him. A boot imprint on the side of his left temple, and the chance to self-check for any broken ribs!"

 

Manson briefly catches his breath following the onslaught, but quickly reapplies the pressure before his advantage slips away from him. He does so in the form of wrapping his heavily taped right hand around Stuart's throat, until the referee's five count convinces him to let up on the misdeed. Regaining his feet, Manson measures up his opponent while methodically backing up to the ropes. With a mild shove off the ropes, Manson bounces off and swiftly connects with a Flashing Elbow to Stuart's sternum. While reeling from the blow, Stuart can't do much else than lie there as Manson is throwing himself in the ropes and connecting with a second Flashing Elbow! With a perfect sneer of disgust, Manson lands himself on top of his opponent into a lateral press, taking great care to grind his forearm into the Canadian's face. Eddy Long is quick to swoop in with the count.

 

"One!"

 

 

"Two!"

 

 

He won't be defeated this easily. Tossing a determined shoulder up to the skies, Tod Stuart tries to regain his footing, but Manson holds on to his advantage with a controlling handful of Stuart's hair, muscling him up to a standing position. Stuart tries to return fire as he connects with some stinging forearms blows to the side of the head. While jarring, Manson simply absorbs them and cuts off any of Stuart's potential offensive replies as he briskly leaps off his feet and connects with a resounding jumping roundhouse kick to the side of the head, commonly known to purists as a gamengiri. Stuart crumples to the mat, but tries with all his remaining might to struggle to his feet. The cobwebs in his head put a quick end to those aspirations. Rather than go for a cover, Manson takes a second to collect his already shaken thoughts as he bends down and grabs a handful of Tod's dark hair. Eddy Long is quick to protest such an action, but the official's warning is quickly met with a resounding "Shut Yer MOUTH!", courtesy of the Raging Bull. Muscling the Canadian into a random corner, Manson lets loose with a stinging knife edge chop that resounds throughout the El Choliseo. Such is their contempt for the man that the faithful Puerto Ricans refuse to acknowledge the legendary move with the trademark holler. Rearing back, his second knife edge chop resounds like a firing pistol against Stuart's well-toned chest. The audience's jeering and booing only serves to further raise Manson's ire.

 

Manson vents in the form of pie-facing his opponent once, and then twice, seemingly feeling his rapidly failing vitality. Grasping onto Tod's left wrist, Manson peels his opponent off of the turnbuckle with an Irish whip, sending the Canadian hard into the opposite corner. With malicious intent, Manson charges ahead full steam but Tod still has enough wherewithall to stabilize himself with the ropes, lift both legs up and rest them on top of Manson's shoulder's and halting his lunging offense. Freeing up his right foot, Stuart drives the sole of his boot into the forehead of his opponent. Again! Three times! Sufficiently dazed, Manson staggers out to the center of the ring, which allows Tod to hop up to the second rope. Patiently waiting for his opponent, Manson staggers back into a front facelock, and a mighty rallying roar from Tod Stuart, signaling the arrival of a Tornado DDT… which fails to come. Manson has furiously locked both of his forearms with the top rope, preventing the Canadian from lifting off. Now doing his best to break off his front facelock, Tod uses the split-second allotted to begin raining down elbow thrusts to the back of the head and neck of Manson which serve to quickly break his iron grip on the top strands. He punctuates the barrage with a heavy forearm blow to the side of the head that manage to send Manson staggering back to the center of the ring. This time, Tod maneuvers himself all the way up to the top rope, and remains perched there waiting for his opponent to appropriate himself in the correct position. Having taken an involuntary step forward, Manson barely has time to register the sight of Tod James Stuart leaping off of his perch of offense, latching onto his head in impressive mid-air timing, spinning around and planting him with a Tornado DDT (with a slight modification)! The still slightly dazed Tod finds his way back up to his feet with a little help from the referee; pulling himself up hy his pants. He then alternates glances between his opponent and the official. With a friendly slap to the shoulder, Tod succesfully convinces Eddy Long to back away for a few seconds and then urges him to look at the most unbelievable sight "over there". Ever faithful to his curious stereotype, Eddy Long indeed looks at whatever might be "there", yet sadly finds nothing. In the meantime, Tod Stuart uses the distraction to unleash a relentless fury of kicks and stomps to the head and midsection of his opponent.

 

"Interesting strategy on the part of Tod Stuart, there." notes Mak Francis. "This is a sequence normally reserved for he and his partner Daniel Smith, but I guess there's no generally accepted method of improvising against a man like the Savage Messiah."

 

"I know I've warned earlier that Tod Stuart should avoid mind games with Manson at all costs, but I have to say right now it certainly seems to be paying dividends… That would be 'Me am doing good', for all you Canadians out there and Mrs. Francis at home. Manson came off to a little bit of a hot start, but now he's essentially at the mercy of Stuart as we speak. I have to admit Tod Stuart is slowly but surely becoming a pretty damn smart wrestler."

 

Measuring up the open forehead of Manson, Tod takes a quick two-step backwards jog off the ropes and connects hard with a leaping knee drop to the side of Manson's head!… Well, he was jittering. Tod lands on top with the lateral press, neutralizing one shoulder with his hips, while both hands are pressing down on the other shoulder.

 

"One!"

 

 

"Two!"

 

 

A futile attempt by Stuart as Manson breaks a shoulder free from the canvas. He tries to crawl away to the relative safety of the turnbuckles while Tod advances on him in order to swing the advantage pendulum back his way. Stuart is ready to lift Manson back up to his feet, but the Raging Bull instantly has two handfuls of tights and yanks the Canadian chest first into the top corner pad! Creating some distance between himself and his opponent, Manson steps back to center ring, only to charge again… only to hit nothing but turnbuckles as Tod ducks and avoids the charge once again! He returns fire with another series of heavy forearms to the side of the head that seem to be a little more effective this time around. Heeding Eddy Long's five-count warning, Stuart drags his opponent to the middle of the ring and tosses his right arm over his own right shoulder, into the uranage initial position. But rather than lay some smack down; Stuart quickly kneels, which drives the back of Manson's head into Stuart's upright knee. Just as quickly, Tod has him back up, but then sweeps his legs out from under him, completing the combo with a devastating STO!

 

"This has been a pretty even contest so far, as Tod hits that Combination STO of his!" exclaims Mak.

 

Taking another second to catch his breath, Tod readies himself for another lateral press and attempt at a pincover, but his vision is once again blurred thanks to a pair of fingers that suddenly find themselved embedded in Tod's face. Now more than annoyed, Eddy Long throws an accusatory finger in Manson's face about the second misdeed he's committed in plain sight of the referee. True to his own beliefs, Manson abruptly brushes the official's hand away and returns his sights on his opponent who's partially regaining his vision. He dashes forward with another clothesline attempt… but Tod ducks it! Countering it into a rear waistlock, Tod lifts up his smaller and beardier opponent and sends him crashing down to the unforgiving canvas with a German suplex! Maintaining the hold, Stuart rolls to his side and back into a standing position, where he's free to chain the whole thing into a second German suplex! He rolls to his side once again, but Manson is not about to let the back of his head brutally collide with the mat for a third time. He successfully manages to block the third German by enlacing his right leg with Stuart's, providing an anchor point. Stuart begins firing away at Manson's upper back with stiff forearm blows, but Manson manages to absorb them. He even manages to get referee Eddy Long's attention by furiously grabbing at his shirt and pull him in closer. But this is simply as a means of distraction so that he can lift up his left leg and bend it at the knee, resulting in a stunning low blow that just went unseen by the referee! This effectively causes Tod Stuart to release his hold and collapse to the mat while the Puerto Rican crowd clearly disapproves.

 

"And this is a perfect example of why all this 'playing by the rules crap isn't worth a damn!" states Suicide King. "Manson is a smart man himself, and he knows just how to position himself in the referees' Pee Oh Vee, if you will. It's a classic, but it works: it's not cheating until you get caught."

 

Certainly puzzled as to how Tod could've found himself in such a sudden state, Eddy Long is certainly glad to lay in another tongue lashing against the Savage Messiah, who in turn is ready to profess his innocence with several four-lettered words. Returning his attention back to the Canadian, he drags Tod back towards a corner, placing him in such a position that he's sitting up against the bottom turnbuckle. Looking down at his opponent with new shades of contempt, he presses the sole of his boot against the side of Tod's face and nearly scrapes his cheek off! Without relenting, he repeats the maneuver once, and then twice, drawing another warning from Eddy Long about letting up on the corner offense. Making sure to get the last word, Manson offers one more vicious boot scrape that looks more and more like a glorified toe slap. That one seems to get Tod Stuart out of his daze more than anything. Manson steps out of the corner and suddenly throws himself into a perpendicular set of ropes. He has in mind going for the finishing touch with a punishing face wash boot to the face, but on the bounce back, what he has time to see is definitely not his prone opponent sitting in the corner.

 

In the split second that Manson's back was turned and running the ropes, Tod Stuart has vaulted himself to his feet and plows into Manson with a solid football tackle. Not a spear per se, but a sack-quality takedown that has both men toppling through the ropes and onto the outside!

 

"I think that last kick to the face woke up Tod Stuart more than anything!" says Mak Francis.

 

As soon as both men are back up to their feet, Tod is the first to strike with another massive forearm shot to the head. Manson is not one to be taken down this easily, as he replies with hard right hands of his own, keeping up the exchange of forearms and punches. Since forearms carry a little more weight into them, and since Tod after all is the bigger of the two; he soon starts to take over the barrage as he nails Manson with repeated shots to the head. But playing possum as best he can, Manson was simply absorbing those once again as he cuts off the Canadian by burying a knee to the gut. With two handfuls of hair, the Raging Bull manages to forcefully slam Tod's head into the announce stable, rightfully startling our intrepid commentary crew. He follows it up by grabbing onto Tod's waist and pushing him backwards, driving his lower back into the ring apron! He then steps back several feet, finally intending on connecting with the earlier misfired boot to the face. With a determined roar, Manson charges forward… but Tod ducks. He uses Manson's momentum to send him face first into the ring post! Just like opening the mail box again to confirm the message has been sent, Tod grabs his own two handfuls of Manson's long hair and unrelentlessly bashes his forehead into the ringpost again!

 

"Move, guys!!" yells Tod with a newly found intensity, directed at ring announcer Funyon and his faithful timekeeper.

 

Grabbing hold of Manson's hair and tights, the aforementionned two do their best to scramble out of the way just in time to avoid Manson's body crashing into the small announcer's table! Upon the cameraman's close-up, one can detect a trace of crimson beginning to flow from Manson's forehead. Amongst the semi-toppled remains of the small table, Manson can feel something tangible and familiar. And metal. His half-mask. Sensing his approaching opponent, he clutches it dearly in one hand…

 

Meanwhile, Tod is trying to get this Puerto Rico crowd going with another mighty roar. Focusing back on Manson, he stares at him with eyes of malicious intent… and puts his arms out.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen." begins Funyon from the safety of the entrance ramp. "Referee Edward Long has rules this bout a double-countout, therefore, this match is… a… draw!!"

 

Somewhere in there, the bell has rung both neither man seem to have heard it, nor care about it. With a scowl painting his face, Tod Stuart wants to choke out that son of a bitch in front of him.

 

"And now, Tod James Stuart is going for the Silent Scream right in front of us!!" utters Mak.

 

"Just as I feared." says King. "Whatever semblance of order this match, however short is was, is now gone and forgotten. Hell, we almost paid the price ourselves. But Manson is a man with an eternal grudge against the world, and Tod Stuart is ever so determined to make his mark against the meanest of them all!"

 

Tod pounces, ready to apply his unforgiving submission hold. But at the one split-second before contact can be applied, Manson spins around and jams the pointed chin-piece of his mask into Tod's forehead! His painful groans are enough to draw Eddy Long over to physically try and separate the two, with little success. Despite attempting to plunge the mask in Tod's face like a knife through mayonnaise, Eddy Long is able to wrest the device away from Manson's hand, but not his will to mutilate the Canadian.

 

"Get that thing away from here!" warns Mak Francis, mainly directed at Eddy Long. "He's just been busted open!"

 

Remaining at the table, a mere foot away from the play-by-play analyst, a steady trickle of blood behind to pour from Tod's right eyebrow, soon turning his face into a gruesome replica of his home country's flag. This time, Eddy Long is trying to back away Manson from the carnage, just as his colleagues Nick Soapdish and Anthony Michael Hall arrive to provide back-up. This proves to be an exercise in futility as the bleeding Manson lets out another primal roar directed at his also bleeding opponent and charges ahead for more damage. Catching the bearded train coming at him out of the corner of his eye, the first and only thing Tod can do is bend over and send Manson sailing high into the air with a back body drop…

 

"Watch it!!!"

 

… that drives him THROUGH the commentator's table! The referee corps swoop in to surround the Canadian to prevent him from doing any further damage and to regain some semblance of control. While the crowd approves the sight of one of the SWF's most despised men receive some form of comeuppance, Tod James Stuart looks on at the carnage with a bit of shock… and then relief. This violent side that he's barely just touched upon is not a side that he was looking forward to manifest.

 

But by swiping his hand across his forehead and gazing at the crimson adorning his hand, he can't help but think how he personally vowed not to show that side of himself again. But then he looks at the blood on his hand, and at the man lying in the wreckage of the commentator's table…

 

He can't help but, maybe… possibly… starting to like that side of himself…

 

 

[Toxxic 0]

We return to Jose Miguel Agrelot Coliseum in Hato Rey, Puerto Rico for the SWF’s Our Super Sweet Sixteen, just in time for the six man tag match this evening. After a quick pan around the arena, the cameras focuses on the announcing table, where Mak Francis and The Suicide King sit, ready to commentate on the next match of the night.

 

“Welcome back to SWF’s Our Super Sweet Sixteen. I’m Mak Francis. Besides me as always is The Suicide King, and we are just about set for our next match,” The Franchise says.

 

“The Phantom of the Opera” spreads from the house speakers in the arena, bringing the fans in the building to their feet. They express themselves with a mixture of jeers and cheers. After a moment, Munich comes bursting out from behind the curtain. He quickly makes his way to ring.

 

“The following is a six-man tag team match! Introducing first…from Denton, Texas…Munich!” belts out Funyon.

 

“Munich has to be looking forward to this match, Mak. Last show he went toe to toe with Daniel Smith in one of the more grueling matches of the night. Tonight, he teams up with TKO. It’s not a bad idea to take a night off and let the Japanese do all of the work,” says King.

 

“Also don’t forget about the rumor of Munich and LDP having some issues with each other. This was especially apparent after Munich’s speech a few weeks back where he tore himself away from X-Force Nine. He may have more than this match on his mind right now, especially after LDP’s performance tonight,” says Francis.

 

“I don’t think that Munich would have much trouble with attacking and fighting Pete. Let us not forget that he laid a Pearl Harbor on both Daniel Smith and Tod James Stuart. The latter was a member of X-Force Nine,” King answers back.

 

“That is a great point, King,” says Francis.

 

“You’re damned right."

 

Munich is now in the ring, leaning up against the ropes as he waits for his tag team partners and their entourage to arrive. The lights go down and the pulsing electronic beats of ‘Tribe’ by Mad Capsule Markets start up as strobes flicker across the audience. ‘T K O’ flashes up on the Smarktron interspersed with images of the duo doing what they do best.

 

“And his partners! Being accompanied by Chris Card and Natasha…From Saitama Prefecture, Japan…TEEE….KAYYYY….OOOHHH!!!”

 

Chris Card and Natasha come out and start to walk down to the ring as Funyon speaks. KOJI and TORU appear as the first guitar riff hits, then fold their arms and glower out at the crowd while the muted Japanese chanting builds up to...

 

*BOOOM!*

 

‘TRIIIIIIBE! Why don’t you strike, justify your mind!’

 

The pyro goes off and both men make their way unhurriedly down to the ring, whereupon Natasha removes both their coats and both hand their shades to Chris Card for safekeeping. The fans are not big fans of the two men from Japan. In fact, they hate them.

 

“And Munich’s partners for the night have arrived on the scene, both of them accompanied by the usual backers. These men are bad people, King,” says Mak.

 

“No Mak, these men are winners,” King replies with a smirk.

 

They then jump straight up to the ring apron, whereupon each grabs the top rope. TORU jumps into the ring over the top, while KOJI makes sure to perform his patented flip. They both flip the birds at the crowd, given the lack of opposition. Munich sighs, then slowly exits the ring to wait for their opponents to arrive.

 

The arena goes silent for just a moment or so, as TKO’s music fades away. They exit the ring with Munich, and they wind up huddled next to Card and Natasha, all of the ignoring the jeers from the ringside fans. The neighing of the horses that mark the beginning of Muse’s “Knights of Cydonia” bring the fans to their feet with a roar of approval. The spaghetti western style guitar finally kicks into high gear, and out come the brothers Breslin. Right between them, and playing to the crowd as much as possible with assorted fist pumps and high fives, is Doctor Pirata.

 

“And their opponents….Doctor Pirata…and The Breslins!”

 

“Listen to this ovation for The Breslins and the good doctor! They sure are favorites down here in Puerto Rico!” exclaims Francis with glee.

 

“They’re only fan favorites because these very same fans were expecting Clint Eastwood to show up wearing a poncho with the decapitated head of Lee van Cleef in his hand!” shouts King.

 

“Every aside, King. This is a big match for The Breslins and Pirata. This is a big test for the young tag team, and meanwhile, there’s just something about Pirata that tells me that he and TKO have some bad blood,” says Francis.

 

“Tell me about it. For some odd reason, I keep getting flashbacks to that juji-gatame he put TORU in last show,” King nods.

 

Pirata and The Breslins enter the ring after they pose for the happy fans. On the outside, Munich and has tag team partners go over basic strategy. Their talk ends with a nod.

 

“Munich doesn’t speak Japanese!” yells King.

 

“I’m sure Munich picked up some basics on the language when he toured the country for a few months at a time,” says Francis. "Anyway, whether they're talking in English, Japanese or Spanish, they seem to have worked something out."

 

Finally, the three men enter the ring, as Natasha and Chris Card retreat to their own corner of the ringside area. After a short meeting in the ring, it is decided that Dr. Pirata will start the match for his team. TORU already waits in the ring, stretching and warming up for the match. Senior referee Mathew Kivell checks the two men for weapons, and after they clear his inspection, the referee signals for the bell to start the match.

 

*DING-DING-DING!*

 

"These two started out in that tag match at Next In Line," Mak comments, "...and you can tell TORU's mind is on how that match ended, look at his arm!"

 

Sure enough, the big man from Japan is keeping his right arm well out of Pirata's way, the juji-gatame perhaps preying on his mind. For his part Pirata laughs a big fake belly laugh, then starts coughing (laughing clearly not being a common occurrence for the good doctor). TORU seizes this chance and charges-

 

*BANG!*

 

-only to be taken down with a drop toehold as Pirata brings the coughing fit under control at the last moment. The Venezuelan then scrambles into a back mount and begins raining elbows down onto the back of his opponent's head, perhaps looking to strike a knockout blow right at the start of this competition; TORU desperately covers up and starts yelling in Japanese. Kivell looks confused, but it's clear that at least two people in the arena understand it, and those two are Munich and KOJI who rush into the ring (KOJI slightly quicker) and start pounding on Pirata. This brings the Breslins in, and instantly an all-out brawl starts with Munich exchanging right hands with Luke while Leo nails KOJI with a couple of knife-edge chops before going for a spinning elbow; Kitano ducks, then tries for a jumping roundhouse kick which is ducked in its turn, then as he lands Leo measures him for an inch-perfect superkick that sends Darkness K toppling backwards.

 

"BRES-LINS! BRES-LINS!"

 

Both Breslins grab Munich and Irish whip the veteran into the ropes; the big man rebounds and ducks under the attempted clothesline from the brothers, then accelerates off the other set of cables and takes both his opponents out with a double clothesline of his own! By this point Dr. Pirata is back up on his feet and the bulky luchadore delivers two sharp elbow strikes to Munich's jaw before stepping back and spinning into a rolling elbow smash that sends the big man staggering; Munich tries to grab the ropes but they are unaccountably not where his blurred vision informs him they are, and the veteran tumbles confusedly out of the ring between the top and middle cables.

 

"YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

 

Pirata's joy (if that's what it is, it's hard to tell under the mask) is short-lived as when Matthew Kivell turns to try and coax the Breslins out of the ring now they're starting to get up again, TORU surges up off the mat and delivers a staggering lowblow between the Venezuelan's legs!

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

 

"Was that necessary!?" Mak demands.

 

"Necessary? No. Effective? Yes," King replies smugly. "If it works, use it, that's what I always say."

 

Matthew Kivell has his suspicions about why Pirata is on the mat holding his crotch, but he can't call what he didn't see. What he can call is TORU dragging Pirata to the TKMunich corner with KOJI laying in the boots on the way. Darkness K finally leaves the ring just as TORU props Pirata up in a sitting position against the bottom turnbuckle, but then TORU tags him back in straight away and both men start to stomp a mudhole in the unfortunate luchadore.

 

'One!'

 

'Two!'

 

'Three!'

 

'Four!'

 

'Fi-'

 

TORU steps out between the ropes to leave the legal man in the ring... and KOJI tags him back in to commence more stomping.

 

'One!'

 

'Two!'

 

'Three!'

 

'Four!'

 

'Fi-'

 

KOJI steps out again... and TORU tags him straight back in. They don't vary the routine much this time either.

 

'One!'

 

'Two!'

 

'Three!'

 

'Four!'

 

'Fi-'

 

Kivell is quickly losing his patience with the Japanese team's antics, but this time KOJI tags Munich in as the big man climbs up onto the apron. Both members of TKO drop to the outside and grab Pirata's arms, pulling them backwards so the luchadore has no chance of protecting his face as Munich backs up for a run-up, then charges in and launches a running boot right at Pirata's head!

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

 

Munich drags Pirata out of the corner as TKO release him and drops to make a cover, which Kivell obliges...

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

...but Pirata kicks out!

 

"It says something for the toughness of Dr. Pirata that he was able to kick out after that amount of punishment!" Mak Francis comments.

 

"And it says something for the Breslins' lack of commitment to this match that they sat over there and let him take it!" King responds.

 

Munich pulls the battered Pirata to his feet and hooks him up for a T-bone suplex, then hoists the smaller man overhead to bring him down to the canvas with a bump. Munich crawls into a cover again...

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

...but Pirata kicks out again! This time Munich casts a glower at the referee and pulls Pirata off the mat more forcefully, then grabs the doubled-over luchadore around the waist and hoists him up into a gutwrench. However, the veteran's plans for a powerbomb are thwarted as Pirata starts to rain down elbows on the big man's head, then snaps backwards into a hurricanrana that takes Munich over! The good doctor jumps up and staggers to his corner where he tags in Leo Breslin, who hops over the ropes.

 

"This is Leo's first legal in-ring action for many years," Mak says, "it's time to see what he's still got under the hood!"

 

Leo backs up, takes a look at Munich as the big man starts to get back to his feet, then runs for the ropes to get some momentum...

 

...and KOJI pulls the ropes down, sending Leo tumbling to the outside. Both members of TKO jump down and start pounding on the smaller Breslin, while Luke heads to the floor and goes after them.

 

"It's breaking down here!" Mak shouts as Kivell starts to count. However, neither TKO nor the Breslins take the slightest bit of notice.

 

'TEN! RING THE BELL!'

 

*DING-DING-DING!*

 

'A double count-out? You're kidding me!" King complains.

 

"I'm afraid not," Mak confirms. "On to the next match!"

 

 

 

 

FADE OUT

[Toxxic 0]

Francis: “Action continues here tonight, and we prepare for one of the more unique matches of the evening. It’s fun vs. serious, entertainment vs. sport…”

 

King: “Crap vs. awesome…”

 

Francis: “As Dance Dance Dragon prepare to do battle with Jay Hawke.”

 

King: “And I have to agree with Jay Hawke here, Mak. Dance Dance Dragon honestly has no place in wrestling. Maybe Chikara or DDT, but as far as a real wrestling promotion goes, no way is he even in the same class as Jay Hawke, the Dean of Professional Wrestling.”

 

Francis: “Dance Dance Dragon certainly has a unique style that he brings to the table with him, but you have to admit the style works for him.”

 

King: “Because everybody is too damn busy laughing at him to try to put any offense together. Hell, people like David Arquette can be World Champion if you treat the sport as a joke. That’s why I’m glad we still have somebody like Jay Hawke around.”

 

Francis: “Tonight, it’s Cruiserweight Rules between two men who have a unique style. Let’s go to Funyon for the introductions and see how the two styles mesh.”

 

Funyon: “Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall with a 20 minute time limit, and it will be contested under cruiserweight rules. There will be a 20 count on the floor, and throwing an opponent over the top rope is an automatic disqualification.”

 

“Learning to Fly” by Pink Floyd comes on the PA as the lights dim. The crowd almost immediately boos.

 

Funyon: “Introducing first, hailing from the Hall of Fame City of Cleveland, Ohio…weighing in at 215 pounds…’The Dean of Professional Wrestling’…JAAAAAAAAAY HAWWWWWWKE!”

 

As the longest reigning International Champion of all time makes his way to the ring, and yes, he still brags about that, the crowd begins its familiar chant…

 

 

“JAY HAWKE SUCKS!”

“JAY HAWKE SUCKS!”

“JAY HAWKE SUCKS!”

“JAY HAWKE SUCKS!”

 

King: “So much for absence making the heart grow fonder, huh?”

 

Francis: “He deserves every boo he gets, King. You saw the hideous display of wrestling he showed against Ced Ordonez a couple of weeks ago.”

 

King: “Maybe it’s a unique style, but it worked for him.”

 

Jay Hawke steps into the ring and removes his beautiful sequined robe, and some onlookers have to admit that with Ric Flair retired, Hawke is probably the sharpest dressed man in the business. But that would be the thought in general in comparison to the opponent…

 

Funyon: “And hailing from Heaven’s Dancefloor…weighing in at 219 pounds…The Strong Style Party Animal, The Bemani Bruiser, and The Masked Dance Assassin…DANCE DANCE DRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGOOOOOOOOOOOON!”

 

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

 

King: “My God, I feel like I’m at a Ricky Martin concert.”

 

Francis: “Are you familiar with that sort of thing?”

 

King: “Sometimes you got to watch the less manly performers to score with the ladies.”

 

Dragon eventually dances his way down to the ring and gets ready for action, and the sponsors begin wondering if the time limit can start with Funyon announcing the time limit.

 

Francis: “Both men are in the ring, and we are just about ready for action.”

 

King: “Thank God!”

 

DING DING DING!

 

The bell rings, and Jay Hawke moves in, eager to lock up. However, Dragon backs off at the last second and begins to do the Blue Meanie “I’m sort of but not really raising the roof” dance.

 

 

“YAAAAAAAAAAAY!

DRA-GON!

DRA-GON!

DRA-GON!”

 

 

King: “People cheer this crap?”

 

Francis: “You’re surprised?

 

King: “I suppose I shouldn’t be. It’s Puerto Rico. They’re happy a hurricane hasn’t wiped them out yet.”

 

Jay Hawke shakes his head in disgust. The dance over, Hawke again moves in for a lockup. Again, Dragon side steps at the last second and does the cabbage patch, not because it’s cool as hell (although it is…if you’re five) but because it aggravates Hawke. Hawke looks over at referee Nick Soapdish and shouts “Can we get on with it?” but the referee just shrugs his shoulders.

 

King: “Dragon better not do too many of these dance moves or he might just find his arm ripped out of the socket.”

 

They move in for another lockup. This time they tie up, and Hawke quickly maneuvers into a side headlock. This time Dragon’s dancing ability comes in handy, as he wiggles out of the headlock. Hawke looks down at where Dragon’s head used to be, and after a short delay, Hawke yells “Dammit!” and kicks the bottom rope.

 

Francis: “And here’s where the unique style comes into play. Right out of the headlock and out of harm’s way.”

 

King: “It’s still early yet, Mak. It’s still early.”

 

Again they go into a lockup. Jay Hawke slips behind again, this time with a hammerlock. A little bit of fancy footwork by Dragon is enough to get Hawke’s grip loosened, and he actually reverses the hold. Hawke quickly gets into the ropes and forces Dragon to release the hold. Triple D releases his grip, and the Dean of Professional Wrestling shows his mean streak of intense seriousness by spitting at his opponent.

 

“OOOOOOOO!”

 

Dance Dance Dragon follows it up with a slap to the face…

 

 

”OHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

 

…and this shit is on!

 

King: "Oh, that's a big mistake!"

 

Francis: "I think Hawke's spitting might have been the real mistake. Triple D loves to have fun out here, but when the time is right, the party is over!"

 

Infuriated by the slap, Hawke attacks with a flurry of short forearm shots. Dragon responds in kind and a forearm battle ensues, won by Triple D as he dazed Hawke. Grabbing the wrist, he goes for a whip, but Hawke reverses. Off the ropes, Dragon ducks a back elbow. Hawke tries to go low with a kitchen sink level knee, but Dragon is agile enough to avoid that as well, countering with a schoolboy roll-up...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

No!

 

Hawke jumps back up and swings wildly, missing with his shot and getting taken up off his feet for the Blue Thunder. A hard elbow driven into the neck fights that off though and allows Hawke to hook DDD up in a front facelock, trying to control him.

 

King: "There we go, slow it down kid."

 

Breaking Hawke's hands apart, Dragon is able to spin out of the hold though...

 

 

*SLAP!*

 

"WHOOOOOOOO!"

 

...and delivers a knifedge chop!

 

 

*SLAP!*

 

"WHOOOOOOOO!"

 

And another!

 

 

*SLAP!*

 

"WHOOOOOOOO!"

 

And a third, keeping a hold on Hawke by the wrist. By the wrist, he gets the irish whip this time...

 

 

*SLAP!*

 

"WHOOOOOOOO!"

 

...and drops The Dean with a Jimmy Snuka-esque double knifedge! Feeling the burn, Hawke rolls to the outside to catch his breath giving Dragon a chance to get down with his bad self in the ring.

 

"DRA - GON!"

"DRA - GON!"

"DRA - GON!"

"DRA - GON!"

 

Francis: "These people love Dance Dance Dragon. And Jay Hawke could not be more pissed right about now!"

 

King: "And with good reason! This goofball is making a mockery of him and of his sport! And these over-sunned morons have obviously let the rays go to their head, because they're actually enjoying it!"

 

With a face like thunder Hawke climbs back onto the apron and lures Dragon into a knee through the ropes to the midsection. Hawke then reaches over, hooking Triple D up for a suplex up and over the top to the floor! Thankfully Dragon is able to kick his legs and prevent the devestating fall... not once, but twice. Dragon is then able to reverse and bring Hawke in the hard way with the suplex! Float over and a cover...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

No!

 

Hawke gets back up, backed in a corner... and shows his resourceful side by grabbing onto Dragon's bodysuit, dragging him face-first into the middle turnbuckle!!

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

 

King: "See, now that's good wrestling!"

 

Francis: "That's cheating."

 

King: "WELL, DUH! That's why it's good wrestling genius. Dragon wasn't expecting it and the ref's not gonna DQ Jay for something like that. Brilliant."

 

With Dragon dazed, Hawke picks him out of the corner... before throwing him back in, shoulder first into the ringpost!!

 

Francis: "Now what about that!?"

 

King: "I don't see Hardcastle calling for a bell, do you?"

 

Dragon lets out some muffled shouts of pain from beneath his mask on impact. Hawke drags him out of corner again and Dragon falls to the mat, writhing in pain. Flattening out the arm, Hawke stomps on the inside of the elbow joint! And again! And a third time, leaving Dragon to writh even more. Referee Hardcastle warns Hawke about his conduct, but gets blanked.

 

Francis: "Hawke means business now, I'll admit it."

 

Hawke leads Dragon back to his feet, elevating him up over the shoulder and walking him out with a Shoulderbreaker! Cover by Hawke...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

No!

 

Staying on the arm, Hawke pins it down for another stomp. Hawke then kneels down, applying a simple armbar.

 

Francis: "Hawke working away on the arm, as we've seen him do many times to great effect."

 

King: "I don't see much dancing going on right now Mak. I think poor Dragon's got a busted wing."

 

The fans stomp and clap their hands to try and get Dragon back into the match. And it looks like it might just work. Dragon draws on the support of the crowd and the rhythm they're creating, toe-tapping his way back to his feet. With his free arm he delivers an elbow. A second. And a third. Free of the armbar, Dragon goes to hit the ropes. But Hawke reaches out and grabs his wrist at the last second, jerking DDD back awkwardly by his bad arm and sending him crashing to the mat.

 

Francis: "Another resourceful move from The Dean Of Professional Wrestling. Self proclaimed."

 

Hawke hits the ropes as Dragon approaches his feet, diving through the air with a leg lariat...

 

 

 

...but he gets CAUGHT and shifted into a Blue Thunder Bomb!!

 

"YYYYEEEEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!"

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

NO!

 

Francis: "A little resourcefulness shown from Dragon also! But only a two count."

 

Both men come back up and Dragon attacks the legs with a kick. Another kick hobbles Hawke, but he quickly goes to the stomach with a knee. Hawke then looks for a fujiwara takedown, but Dragon turns himself behind with a backslide...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

T-No, can't hold the bridge.

 

Hawke lands a quick boot to the gut, then whips Dragon hard across the ring to send him sternum first into the turnbuckles. Dragon holds his shoulder again, as Jay places him in a seated position up top, facing into the crowd.

 

Francis: "Hawke taking a rare chance here."

 

King: "Could be a back superplex maybe?"

 

Climbing to the second behind Dragon, Hawke starts to hook Dragon up for the back superplex as predicted. Dragon tries to fight out with elbows though. Wobbly on the ropes, Hawke clubs DDD in the back a few times to quieten him down before trying again. But again Dragon strikes back with elbows until he's fought Hawke off, eventually forcing The Dean to fall from the middle rope. Hawke is quickly back up, but so too is Dragon on the top rope, taking flight with his patented Moonsault Press...

 

 

 

 

...BUT HAWKE MOVES OUT OF THE WAY!!!

 

"OOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

Francis: "Dragon went for everything and got nothing!"

 

King: "And he came down heavy on that arm too from the looks of things."

 

With Dragon in serious pain, referee Hardcastle tries to step in and check on him. Hawke shows no remorse though and moves the official aside so he can POST HIM SHOULDER-FIRST AGAIN!!! Dragon's muffled shouts grow louder, as Hawke then peels him off the ringpost and applies the WING SPAN!!

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

 

King: "He's got it!"

 

Francis: "Wing Span and Dragon is defenceless, Hardcastle should stop this right now."

 

Luckily, he needn't worry though, as after a couple of seconds Dragon has had enough.

 

 

*TAPTAPTAP!*

 

 

*DINGDINGDING!*

 

Francis: "Hawke wins it... but, he's not letting go of the hold! Come on ref!"

 

Having called for the bell, Hardcastle tries to convey to Hawke that the match is over, but it's clear that The Dean isn't listening! Hawke continues to wrench away on the crossface chickenwing and tears at the shoulder, prompting Hardcastle to get a little more forceful about the hold being broken. But still Hawke hangs on.

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

 

Francis: "What the hell is the meaning of this!?"

 

King: "I don't know, but I like it!"

 

Francis: "Hawke's won the match already, there's no call for this! He's trying to injure Dragon!"

 

King: "Put him out of the SWF, rid us of the comedy act making fools of us. Again, I like it!"

 

As Hawke continues to wrench on the hold the bell rings away, futile as ever as it doesn't do a bit of good. Eventually Hardcastle gives up and drops down to Hawke level to try and prise the hold apart himself. At this point, Jay finally sees reason and releases Dragon from his grip, leaving him to writh in agony as he climbs back to his feet with a satisfied smile on his face.

 

"YOU SUCK!"

"YOU SUCK!"

"YOU SUCK!"

"YOU SUCK!"

 

Hawke smirks down as he sees the pain Dragon's in, brushing away Hardcastle as he teases Dragon that he's "not dancing anymore", then SPITS ON HIM! To a loud chorus of boos, Hawke then finally leaves the ring with his head held high.

 

King: "And once again, Jay Hawke proves why he's my favourite wrestler."

 

Francis: "Trust you to be the one to condone that. Hawke may have seriously injured this kid."

 

King: "Boy I hope so. The SWF is for wrestlers, not comedy acts. Take that lame ass crap back to the OATTOAST where it belongs."

 

Francis: "And on behalf of the SWF, we don't condone those comments and send our best wishes out to the fine folks at the OAOAST."

 

Hawke is showered with boos on his way back down the aisle but shows no signs of remorse still at the damage he's done. In the ring, Dragon is attended to by Hardcastle, clearly in a bad way.

[Toxxic 0]

The camera pans across the crowds of the Jose Miguel Agrelot Coliseum, who after a swift cruiserweight battle are more then ready for more light weight carnage to entertain them and who would be the SWF to deny their paying fans what they want? And slowly the lights to the arena start to dim to nothing.

 

“Oh is it that time already?” The Suicide King asks rhetorically to his audience, and Mak Francis his co commentator who inwardly sighs. “I've been waiting all night long for this!”

 

“You have...?” Francis asks him with a quirk of an eyebrow across the booth at ringside.

 

“No! In fact I'm kind of hoping he doesn't turn up...”

 

As if in answer to the King a sweet female voice whispers out across the arena . “It's time to burn...”

 

And the opening bars of the Vertical Limit mix of Linkin Park's Points of Authority starts to echo out over the darkened area and the fans in the stands are already cheering as images of Divefire in various stages of his career light up the Smark-Tron, and the lyrics start to roll.

 

"Forfeit the game,

Stop the talk show,

Product of what,

You're taught to know,

Forfeit the game,

'Cus tomorrow,

When it's all done,

You reap what you sow!"

 

 

* B O O M *

 

 

Fire pyro's erupt from the stage, whiting out the entrance area for a second. As the lens flare fades from the cameras Divefire walks out of the fiery entrance, the lingering flames reflecting of his almost to black shades and leather jacket. He stalks down the ramp way, looking as mean and as moody as his footage would suggest and despite the cheering and respect of the fans down the entrance way he pays them no mind.

 

“I think he turned up, King.”

 

“Shut up, Francis...”

 

 

“Ladies and Gentlemen!” Funyon bellows from the centre of the ring. “This match is a non-title match! Making his way to the ring, hailing from somewhere in the United Kingdom and weighing in at 197 pounds...” Funyon gives a little pause and for those looking carefully, perhaps just a hint of a little smile touches the edges of his lips, he hasn't said this in a long time. “This! Is! DIVEFIRE!!!”

 

And as if he'd been waiting for those words, Divefire bursts into the ring, sliding under the bottom rope and bolting to his feet as the crowds roar for the returning veteran. He looks out to them as he slowly strides into the center of the ring that Funyon has kindly stepped to one side of, and with a smirk playing at the edge of his mouth he thrusts his hands high, the four ring posts blasting flames high into the air, cutting the music and finally brining the arena lights back up to full. Taking his shades off and slipping them into the top pocket of his jacket, and then slipping that off of his shoulders and tossing it in a controlled arch to the time keepers table, Divefire leans back on the ropes and looks towards the entranceway.

 

And just as they've been brought up, the lights around the arena begin to flicker as the violent guitar riffs and the blaring drum work of The Agony Scene’s “Scapegoat” blast through the arena's sound 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 New Straight Edge Sensation and current SWF Crusierweight 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!”

 

And on cue “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins steps out onto the stage, soaking up the boos and jeers of the crowd with a cocky grin fixed onto his face and the Cruiserweight Belt draped over his shoulder. He stomps down the entrance ramp, grin slowly lowering to a sneer as he sets his gaze on his opponent in the ring , passing by the jeering crowd as they cry out for his blood.

 

“And introducing his opponent, from Long Island, New York and weighing in at 205 pounds, he is the current SWF Cruiserweight Champion, Hollywood, Spike Jenkins!” Funyon ends with his usual vocal flourish and steps out of the ring as Spike climbs up the steel steps and onto the ring apron. He climbs up to the middle rope, unzips his sweatshirt and pulls it off, tossing it to the side while taking his Cruiserweight Belt and showing it to the crowds in one hand while waving the middle finger at them with the other. After getting his jollies from the crowds jeers and boos he climbs over the top rope and leaps into the ring, handing the belt over to Funyon who dutifully carries it over to the time keepers table, Spke stands, read for action as his music fades out.

 

“I wonder if Spike has realised the irony of his musics lyrics, given who he's up against?” Mac muses to the King.

 

“Irony? Because the lyrics go on about burning alive and he's going against the flaming ninja himself, the returning, some would say legend, not me of course, Divefire?” King replies, almost sounding sincere.

 

“That's right, and by the way, nice shilling.”

 

“Yeah, thanks Francis. You know I think I just threw up a little bit in my mouth doing that...”

 

“No, thank you King...”

 

 

*D I N G D I N G*

 

 

The bell thankfully rings at this point, interrupting the flow of the two commentators and in the ring Spike and Divefire toss each other hard looks and slowly circle around the ring, Spike all languid steps to Divefire's more purposeful prowl. As is often the way with these things, both men move in the same moment, legs pushing off from the canvas they bolt together in a lock up, twisting and turning as they both struggle for the upper hand. Spike presses down on the smaller man, trying to force Divefire back but the Englishman holds firm, keeping his position and then breaking the lock up by shoving Spike off of him in a display of strength and then charges forward, leaping up into a running knee then slams hard into Spike's jaw and sends the Long Islander tumbling back and into the corner. He stays down on the ground and rubs at his jaw slowly, his other hand outstretched and palm open as one the referee for this match, Eddy Long, gets in the face of Divefire and reminds him he can't attack a down man in the corner.

 

“Explosive first lock up, Divefire's not showing any signs of not being in an SWF ring for five years that's for sure, King!”

 

“Kind of early for you to be brown nosing isn't it, Mac? Divefire's doing ok so far but Hollywood is playing it cool, he knows how it works.”

 

Indeed, Jenkins takes his time to get to his feet, never taking his gaze off of his opponent, or stepping away from the corner, till he's sure of his moment. Finally Divefire has had enough of Eddy Long's interference shoves him to one side, but that's all the opening Spike was looking for and he slams into Divefire with another lock up, and quickly sinks in a fast arm bar on the distracted Englishman. Spike wrecnhes it in with a certin amount of glee etched into his face and walks Divefire into the corner , releasing the arm bar only to slam a fierce chop across Divefire's t-shirt covered chest that rocks him back against the ring post somewhat. And then another fierce chop, then another!

 

“Hard knife edge chops just sucking the wind right out of Divefire's sails there.”

 

“Yep, see what did I tell you, didn't take long for Spike to get the upper hand in this match by picking his moment.”

 

Spike seems well pleased by his work, as Divefire leans against the corner, hands outstretched along the ring ropes and catching his breathe. Then Spike grabs one of the hands resting on the ropes and goes for an irish whip, but Divefire plants his feet and reverses it, sending Spike into the opposite corner with authority. Running in after him, Divefire leaps into the air, getting some major hang time but Spike isn't that dazed despite the impact and gets his arms in between himself and Divefire, adding some speed to the equation and tossing Divefire to the outside.

 

There's a cheer from the crowd and Spike steps out of the corner, smiling broadly and tapping the side of his head, giving the universal signal for outsmarting your opponent but the smile shifts to one of confusion as the crowds continue to cheer. He knows it can't be for him and as he turns around slowly he gets that sinking feeling, discovering that the Englishman had only been tossed to the ring apron and worst of all he's standing on the top rope... Divefire leaps off the top of the ropes, somersaults forward and Spike goes flying back across the ring as Divefire's feet slam into him with an accompanying cheer from the crowd.

 

“Whirlwind Dropkick!” Mac yells as Divefire gets back to his feet from landing the move. “Not the most elegant of moves, but you can see the energy Divefire got into that, King.”

 

“You're right, Mac, I can. Much as I hate to admit it, he's looking as sharp as he ever did.”

 

As Spike labours on the mat for a moment, grabbing at his chest and trying to force air back into his lungs, Divefire's already on him, nailing some hard stomps on his downed opponent and forcing Spike to roll to the side of the onslaught, trying to get up, his legs under him and grabbing on to Divefire's midsection for support. Spike fires off a some heavy closed fists into Divefire's stomach, but there's not as much behind them as there might otherwise be and the flaming ninja strikes back with his own viscous hands, a hard left sinking into Spike's stomach and doubling the Cruiserweight champion over with the sickening impact. With quick hands he wraps his left arm around the back of Spike's head, grabs a hand full of shorts with the right hand and kicks his own legs out, slamming Spike back into the mat with a simple but effective DDT.

 

“DDT by Divefire, and the cover! One! Two! No, kick out with some authority by Spike! King, that' wasn't the best looking DDT I've ever seen but that left hand to the gut of Spike Jenkins, it just sucked the wind out of him.”

 

“You're right, Francis. Divefire's not the greatest mat wrestler, or hell, wrestler period if you ask me. But I've seen those hands take out people twice his size and then some, you do not want to get hit by him. Hollywood has gotta out smart him.”

 

Divefire is quickly back to his feet after the two count and stalks after Spike, but Spike is far from helpless and quickly rolls out of the ring, still clutching at his mid section with one hand as he looks back into the ring as the referee starts a ten count. For the moment, Divefire resists the urge to slip out of the ring and chase after Spike, preferring to stand back and let the referee count. Spike meanwhile walks around the edge of the ring, giving some particularly noises fans that hurl some abuse at him the finger, and then uses the ring steps to get up on the apron, looking to get back in to the action. As expected, Divefire quickly gets onto him, an apron lock up ensuring but Spike was clearly expecting this, lands a quick rake of the eyes and grabs Divefire's head, leaping off the ring edge and slamming Divefire's neck down onto the top rope with some authority.

 

Divefire goes crashing back to the mat, holding his throat and choking for a moment, audibly, and then blinks in a little confusion as he finds himself being dragged leg first to the corner by Spike from the outside. He looks up just in time to see Spike wrenching his leg back and then slamming the knee into the ring post with an audible clang of knee cap on metal which makes the British ninja wince in pain. Spike isn't done though, and knowing he has an advantage to press, positions Divefire's knee against the ring post once more, takes a step back and nails a hard drop kick right onto Divefire's knee, once more pressing it hard into the ring post.

 

“Now that's what I'm talking about, Mac, that's the kind of thing Spike has got to do!”

 

“Try to injure a man to get an advantage?”

 

“Well I suppose you'd prefer it if he used a drain cover to the back of Divefire's head?”

 

“Let's not get into that now...”

 

With the referee getting dangerously close to a count out, Spike rolls back into the ring in the nick of time and drags Divefire to his feet, then with a surge of strength puts Divefire across his back, then tosses him into the air. As Divefire comes in for an uncontrolled landing, Spike leaps up to meet him and slams both knees into the Englishman's gut in a hard gut buster.

 

“Ha! Welcome back to the SWF Diveflamer! Eat Gutbuster!”

 

“King...?”

 

“Sorry, that just came out... But c'mon, that was great!”

 

And indeed Spike seems rather happy with the impact as Divefire rolls on the mat, the wind clearly knocked out of him. Spike goes for the cover, hooking the leg and the ref goes down for the count.

 

 

 

One..!

 

 

 

Two...!

 

 

 

Thr... No!

 

 

Divefire kicks out, near throwing Spike off of his frame and flipping up to his feet, clearly now very unhappy, but savouring his left knee that took the brunt of Spike's tender mercies. Spike, upon seeing this, gives a big grin and stances up, stepping in and firing off a sharp low kick aiming for the back of Divefire's knee. It hit's and Divefire snarls in pain, Spike goes for it again but this time Divefire steps into the attack and a fast left hand flashes out and rocks Spike back as it slams into his jaw and despite the moment of the hit Divefire stops it hard and reverse the direction of his left arm, a sharp elbow ripping into the other side of Spike's jaw as then spinning with the momentum a right elbow follows it up, and as Spike reels, his feet going from under him Divefire spins around and leaps up high, left leg stretching out horizontally and his heel slams Spike once more in the side of the head, crashing the Cruiserweight champion to the floor.

 

“Fire combinations into a Tornado kick. Last time I saw that was on DVD!”

 

“Yeah, ok that was impressive, but look at the way he landed it, that had to hurt his knee more. Divefire's just not thinking about this, he's just reacting.”

 

Still the fans don't care about that fairly accurate assessment by the Suicide King, because as one a 'You still got it!' chant has broken out around the arena for the fiery display by the Englishman, and despite the obvious pain in his knee, he's not quite done yet, hoisting the still dazed Spike to his feet, he stands behind him and cranks his head and back, back in a reverse front face lock, holding Spike for a moment exposed, Divefire turns sharply, releasing the face lock and driving an elbow into Spike's midsection, forcing him back to the mat with authority and quickly going for the cover.

 

“Turn 'n Burn, King! Cover! One...!”

 

Spike blinks up the arena lights, catching his breathe.

 

“Two...!”

 

Knowing he should do something, that the beating near his head is wrong some how.

 

“Thre..!”

 

Oh, right, the match... Spike kicks out hard, rolling his shoulders off the mat just before the referee makes the three, and the crowd hiss at the closeness of the call. Divefire though isn't that surprised and goes to follow up on his wounded opponent, but he can't move as fast as he'd like given the damage done to his knee and Spike rolls outside of the ring once more. This time though Divefire follows him out, but Spike gets some distance between the two, and by this time he's had quite enough of this thank you very much, making his way over to the time keepers table, he grabs the Cruiserweight belt just as Divefire starts to run at him, and turns to to ram his championship belt right between Divefire's eyes, catching him full force and sending the Brit to the floor in a Billy Gun bumping kind of way.

 

The referee catches full sight of the move though and quickly signals for the bell that dually rings. Not that Spike seems to care as he starts to shout abuse at Divefire's semi concious form.

 

“Ladies and Gentleman, you're winner via disqualification, Divefire!” Funyon announces. Though Divefire's music doesn't start up, and the crowds start to jeer at Spike, who pays them no mind what so ever and goes over to the nearest metal chair, grabbing it and folding it up, and going back over to stand to the side of Divefire.

 

“I don't like the look of this King, looks to me as if Spike had no intention of trying to win this match after all.”

 

“He's just doing the smart thing, Francis, he had nothing to lose out here after all. This is why he's going to be the best cruiserweight champion ever!”

 

And as if on cue, Spike slams the chair down across the knee he'd been targeting all match long, making Divefire cry out in shock and clutch for his knee as the chair comes down. Spike hoists it back up and goes to swing it again but by now SWF security are swarming all over him, forcing him back as Toxxic himself comes down to the ring, yelling at Spike.

 

“What the bloody hell you playing at, Spike?!” The general manager yells as security keeps the Cruiserweight champion back from doing any more damage.

 

“I told you what would happen Mike, I didn't want this! I told you what would happen!” Spike yells back to what amounts to his boss. “The stupid son of a bitch should never have come back!”

 

Which, is about all the 'stupid son of a bitch' needs to hear as he throws of a helping hand from one of the SWF security and ploughs into Spike's held back form and starts laying in hard lefts and rights, clearly rather unhappy at this point.

 

“No, Dive, mate no don't bother...!” Toxxic yells to his compatriot but to no seeming avail as the SWF security fight hard to keep the two men apart. “Aw, fuck it... Get those two apart and get 'em to the back, we're done here!” And so saying Toxxic turns his back on the two men and the clusterfuck of security around them and heads to the back.

 

“Well King, I guess that's a what, a draw, a win for Divefire, a win for Spike?”

 

“Hey, Spike did what he said he was going to do, he injured Divefire didn't he? That's got to be a win for him even if the record books show this as Divefire's official victory.”

 

“Come back victory at that, but at what cost? I guess we'll find out." Mak says. "That's all from Our Super Sweet Sixteen-"

 

"Beatdowns."

 

"Huh?"

 

"I swear, there must have been sixteen beatdowns on this show," the Gambling Man muses. "Must be something in the water."

 

"...whatever. Thanks for joining us, and join us again on DVD or in person at our next show, Jamaican Me Crazy!" Mak signs off.

 

 

 

©2008 Sensational Cucuaracha Productions for the Smartmarks Wrestling Federation

'Raising Workrate By Beating Suckers Down'