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SWF LOCKDOWN (Mar. 5, 2003!), Now with WC/JD promo and JD/ELM! Read!!!
Guest_TheBostonStrangler_*
post Mar 6 2003, 02:32 PM
Post #1





Guests






Opening Promo - Tom Flesher speaks. You listen. You get bored. Such is the life of a peon like you.

Hardcore Title Match
Judge Mental v. Fugue
Special Referee – Tom Flesher
Mental is not the most hardcore guy in the world. He’s the first to admit it. Fugue is insane. So, you see, it’s a perfect fit. Each is certainly qualified… and even more so will be the Superior Referee, Tom Flesher! Will Tom screw over Judge in the knowledge that Justice and Rule are coming for his WORLD Tag Championship? And will Annie E make her presence known?
Word Limit: 6000
Rules: Hardcore, so none. Tom’s just there to count the or observe the tap… if he wishes too. Flesher will not be writing a match.
Send to: chirs3

Triple Threat Elimination Match
CIA v. Michael Craven v. Johnny Dangerous
Craven won the Contender’s match for the US Title shot last week, but the Champ is busy. Still, we’ve got to keep our contenders in fighting shape! Have fun Craven…
Rules: Triple Threat rules (elimination) DQ and Countout are in effect.
Word Limit: 5000
Send To: Grand Slam

Singles Match for the U.S. Title
Special Referee - Frost
Danny Williams © v. Ejiro Fasaki
Danny Williams if undoubtedly the greatest technical US Champ we’ve ever had. Ejiro Fasaki is no slouch though, and certainly deserves his shot at the big time! Add in the meanest guest ref ever and things will simmer nicely. But the tensions between Frost and Williams are well-known, and of course Ejiro is gonna be chomping at the bit to get a hold of one half of the World Tag Champs! The recipe is for chaos dear children, and I am your chef… but will former champ Mak Francis want a bite? And will Frost even want to get involved, with the knowledge that even bigger fish may be in his future later in the evening…?
Rules: Standard rules. Do not write a match Frost.
Word Limit: 6000
Send to: TheBostonStrangler

Non-Title Singles Match
Jay Dawg v. El Luchador Magnifico
Magnifico is recovering from a brutal beatdown by Frost last week… but the Commish feels that he still isn’t taking his next opponent very seriously. To remedy this ELM will once again face the tender administrations of Jay Dawg and his hardcore antics! Will ELM be able to fend off this maniac’s attack?
Rules: Standard rules apply.
Word Limit: 5000
Send to: Grand Slam

Main Event
Non-Title Singles Match with Consequences!
Frost v. TNT
The former partners of Chilly Chilly Bang Bang go at it with TNT’s title shot on the line! If TNT doesn’t win, he does NOT get his title match at the PPV due to pissing off King! If Frost wins… well, maybe that title shot will go to him. Maybe not. After pounding ELM’s face into the mat last week we can certainly see that he has what it takes! What I am saying is that if TNT doesn’t prove here and now that he can hang with the big boys, he can go hang himself! It doesn’t matter how TNT wins, but he’d better… after all, Frost is pulling double duty of a sorts.
Rules: Standard Rules apply.
Word Limit: 6000
Send to: Suicide King
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Guest_TheBostonStrangler_*
post Mar 6 2003, 02:32 PM
Post #2





Guests






First there was nothing.

And then there was Lockdown.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Orange fireworks go off!

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Yellow fireworks explode! And as the crowd stands up and cheers, the camera pans through and shows a few lucky fans' signs. They include "I'm Here To See ELM," "TNT Ate A Bag Of Dicks," and the ever-popular "SMARK" with an arrow pointing straight down. Finally after giving these fans their fifteen seconds of fame, the camera swings over to the announcers' table. There, "Grand Slam" Mark Stevens sits next to Bobby Riley, who is grinning and shuffling through his papers.

"Welcome to SWF Lockdown!" bellows Mark Stevens. "We've got a very, very exciting card lined up for you this evening, including..."

"Inclding Tom Flesher in stripes! Mmmm," murmurs Riley. "I don't know what I did to deserve this, but whatever it is, I'll keep doing it!"

Stevens clears his throat and shifts his gaze around uncomfortably. "Bobby, I thought that Standards And Practices told you to cut back on the..."

"Fashion sense?"

"... fawning."

"I'm not fawning, Mark. I just think Flesher looks fabulous in stripes."

"And I think you'd look fabulous in an off-camera front office job."

"I'll be good," whimpers Riley.

Stevens turns back to the camera. "As I was saying, we've got an exciting card for-"

HEEEEEEEERE WE ARE

BORN TO BE KINGS

WE'RE THE PRINCES OF THE U-NI-VERRRRRRRSE

The opening vocals of "Princes of the Universe" by Queen cut Mark Stevens off, bathing the arena in blue light as the fans begin to boo. As the hard guitar riffs of the song begin to grind over the speakers, the blue lights switch to a harsher red and Tom Flesher steps out through the curtain in his usual white Mag-7 polo shirt and jeans, with the Tag Team Title strapped around his waist. Directly behind him is Frost, with the Tag Team belt around his waist and the ICTV slung over his shoulder. Behind Frost is SWF S Champion Danny Williams in his ring gear, followed by Judge Mental and Ejiro Fasaki walking side-by side. Rounding out the pack is Fugue, grinning broadly as always, for no apparent reason. As they file through the curtain, the Magnificent Seven members arrange themselves on the stage. Danny Williams is on the left, Frost next to him, Flesher in the center, Fugue on the other side and Justice and Rule on the far right stand as "Princes of the Universe" continues. After a moment, blue and red fireworks fire off with a column of pyro behind each superstar as they each assume their photo-op pose. The crowd continues boo after the pyro as Tom Flesher breaks rank, leading the rest of the Magnificent Seven to the ring. They enter the ring one by one, and as the music fades, Tom takes the microphone.

"Good evening, and-"

Flesher tries to start his usual schtick, but can't because of the crowd noise. As he starts to speak, the fans burst into a chorus of boos that simply drowns him out. The Superior One rolls his eyes, covering the mic and making a quick wisecrack to Judge Mental while Frost stands stonefaced and Danny Williams disgustedly turns his wrist as if to look at his watch. Finally, as the crowd quiets down, Flesher once again lifts the microphone to his lips.

“These fans aren’t buying a bit of this,” says Stevens. “They don’t even want to give Flesher his few minutes, and I can’t say I blame them.”

“Indeed! On with the stripes, boy-o!”

"As I was saying," Tom says, sounding mildly irritated, "good evening and welcome to the Magnificent Seven edition of SWF Lockdown. Why, you ask, is it the Magnificent Seven edition of Lockdown? Well, I figured it was obvious, but you never know with Las Vegas crowds. I mean, maybe you’re all so loaded up on free drinks that you thought you were going to one of the brothels or something. After all… it’s legal in Nevada.” Flesher pauses for a quick pop. “And for all I know, you could have all been headed to Le Maison Ramrodde down the street.” With a smirk, Flesher pauses to let the crowd boo him loudly and start the ultimate ironic chant… “YOU SUCK DICK! YOU SUCK DICK!”

Riley simply “mmms” warmly.

"No,” says Flesher after a moment, “it's the Mag-7 edition of Lockdown because our venerable, good-looking and eminently diplomatic commissioner, the Suicide King, has finally made official what all the boys in the back have known since Genesis: the Magnificent Seven runs this show. Not only are we absolutely in charge of the title scene, but we’ve beaten every challenge we’ve ever had to face. Tell ’em, Ejiro.”

Tom hands the mic off to Ejiro Fasaki, who politely claps and points to Flesher, trying to coax the crowd into applauding him. The UNLV crowd, of course, will have none of it, and Ejiro eventually just starts to speak his piece.

"You know... you people. You just don't seem to understand things. You think that there’s someone out there that can stop the Magnificent 7. You think there’s someone who can beat us. But what you just don't seem to comprehend is that we’ve already won. War is over, kiddies, and you’re looking at the people that get to write the history. We own this federation like Wallace the Pimp owns your moms. Look at what you have in this ring right now. You have the Hardcore Champion, the US Champion, the Tag Team Champions, and the ICTV Champion… and it’s only a matter of time before Tom or Frost snatches that World Title away from El Luchadore Magnifico.” Flesher glares at Fasaki, who looks slightly confused, but continues. “They're bound to do it sooner or later, Christ, one would hope right? Small wonder the Suicide King matched us all up against each other... because no one else in this federation can touch us. Annie Eclectic... CIA... Mak Francis... anyone you want to name ... Jay Dawg... LDP... Wildchild. They don't stand up to the acid test that is the Magnificent 7 and they simply never will. Hell, if we didn't face each other, we'd be so damn bored we'd probably end up taking naps in the middle of matches. Because let's face it... the Magnificent 7 is better than you. And man, can we PROVE IT."

Flesher smirks and nods, leading the stable in a golf clap that everyone joins, Frost less enthusiastic than the others and Williams almost not at all. Danny, in fact, sidles up next to Ejiro and plants a hand on his shoulder forcefully. Ejiro looks up at Williams’ scowl and smirks at him.

“Uh oh!” says Stevens with just a hint of excitement. “We might get a preview of the US Title match later tonight!”

Flesher, though, steps in with a diplomatic smile and wedges himself between the two stablemates. “Man, oh man, are you two excited. I know you’re just SO excited that you’re going to put on a technical clinic for these fans later on, but let’s keep it clean until then, eh?” Williams just sneers, and Ejiro starts to say something, but opts instead to simply nod.

“Ejiro Fasaki wisely chooses not to mouth back to Danny Williams, and that’s going to be a barnburner later tonight!”

“Stevens, do you ever STOP shilling?”

“Only on commercial breaks, and when I’m on the road filing the Stevens Report.”

“However,” says Flesher, “there’s someone else who doesn’t do much talking, even though he’s an important member of the Magnificent Seven. Fugue, let’s hear it.”

"Ahem." Fugue clears his throat and taps on the mike a couple of times, then takes off his hat and places it on the turnbuckle. "Just a couple of things I want to get off my chest," he comments, draping his long jacket over the top rope.

"Oh no, NOW what?" mutters Mark Stevens.

"You know, ever since I came to the SJL," Fugue says, "I've been wondering about my place here." He begins to pace the ring as scattered boos are heard. "I mean, where does my little theme fit in to the great symphony of the SWF?" The musician leans over the rope, looking out at the audience. "I imagine it's something everyone here wonders about, at one time or another, huh?" The other members of M7 exchange glances behind Fugue's back as he grins at the audience.

"What's that on Fugue's shirt?" Bobby Riley asks, peering up at the ring.

"And then I realized," Fugue continues, backing away from the ropes, his grin widening. A white design is visible on his shirt--a stylized picture of himself, with a trademark insane smile, holding his hands in front of him in an 'X'. The legend below the picture: 'DEVIANT'. "As a great man once said, 'Without deviation from the norm, progress is impossible!’ And then he went on to name his children Dweezil and Moon Unit!"

"Did I hear that right?" Riley asks. "Did Fugue just quote Frank Zappa on an SWF show?"

"Er…" Stevens replies, intelligently.

"And so," Fugue continues, gesturing with his free arm, "I may not be the STRONGEST, or the FASTEST, or the most SKILLED, but I AM the--"

At this point Ejiro taps Fugue on the shoulder and murmurs something to him. The musician stops, and blinks.

"Well, no, I'm not a cult leader--"

The murmuring continues.

"N...o, I've never broken anyone's neck," Fugue admits. "Although there was that one time--"

Murmur, murmur.

"All right, fine!" Fugue snarls. He pulls away from Ejiro, who backs away obligingly. "The point is," he continues. "The POINT, is..." And suddenly his eyes brighten. "The point is that I have decided that the SWF needs my PARTICULAR brand of deviancy. It's my job to make people understand the true depth of music in their souls, to help them sing in Harmony!" Suddenly Fugue turns to gesture at the leader of the M7. "Because Tom Flesher is on the King's Road!" the musician proclaims. "And after all... every King needs a jester!"

Flesher smirks as Fugue obsequiously hands the mic back to him. “Fugue, my friend,” he says, “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

With that, the words “HERE WE ARE… BORN TO BE KINGS… WE’RE THE PRINCES OF THE U-NI-VERRRRRRRRSE” ring out over the PA, and as the fans continue booing, the Magnificent Seven begins to strut out of the ring collectively.

“Fans, we’ve got a hell of a night lined up!” says Stevens. “We’ll be right back!”
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Guest_TheBostonStrangler_*
post Mar 6 2003, 02:33 PM
Post #3





Guests






The opening pyros go off, and we go to you LIVE from the Thomas and Mack Center on the campus of UNLV in Las Vegas, Nevada! The crowd gives a nice cheer for the opening sequence, and we go right down to the announcers table, where Bobbie and Mark stand by for the opening match of the evening.

“Well, we are back for what looks to be a damn good Lockdown!” Says Mark Stevens, greeting the camera with inviting smile, “We have a great lineup of matches coming up for you, like-”

-A quick graphic of Judge Mental holding his Hardcore Title, Tom Flesher shining his Tag Team Title over his shoulder, and Fugue giving his demented, cruel smile, pops up over a wide shot of the arena -

“-‘The Judge’ William Hearford defending his Hardcore Gamers Title against Fugue, with Tom Flesher as the special ref-”

-Another graphic shows up, this time with newly turned Michael Craven, the always likeable CIA, and the debonair Johnny Dangerous-

“-Michael Craven, Johnny Dangerous, and CIA face off in a triple threat match-”

-switch to the cocky Ejiro, the calculating monster Frost, and the down-to-business Danny Williams-

“-A bout between Danny Williams and Ejiro Fasaki for the U.S. Title with Frost as the Special referee-”

-cut to ELM with his World Title belt, and the ever frightening Hardcore God, Jay Dawg-

“-World Champion ELM in a grudge match with his Genesis III opponent, Jay Dawg-”

-The graphic changes one final time and the words ‘Main Event’ are at the top in big letters. The graphics are of Frost with his tag partner TNT next to him-

“-And for our Main Event, TNT is fighting Frost for his title shot at From the Fire!”

The graphics disappear, and after a few moments we are brought back down to the announcing table once again. Mark looks down at Bobbie for a moment.

“Well, this first match is certainly going to be an interesting one. We have two of the founding members of the Magnificent 7 contingent in the Junior Leagues, and they seem to have a nice relationship with each other. We’ll see how long that lasts in this match.”

“Mark, figures you doubt the bonds in the Magnificent 7. I mean, look at all the double crosses you Carnie fools have done,” Stevens gives an angry frown, but Riley takes no heed as he goes on, “But the Magnificent 7 has something far greater than what you guys had…

“The following match is one fall for the Hardcore Title!”

The SmarkTron goes white with the blue words "SUPERIORTY COMPLEX" and "MAGNIFICENT SEVEN" on it. Then, with an explosion of blue pyro, "Kashmir" by Led Zeppelin bursts out over the loudspeaker. Tom Flesher emerges from the cloud of smoke, striding confidently in his zebra stripes to the ring as videos of his signature moves alternate in half-second clips with the words "SUPERIOR ONE," "AWARD-WINNING," "MAIN ATTRACTION" and "MAGNIFICENT SEVEN."

“That!” Finishes Riley, pointing to the man at the coming down the ramp “Tom is the glue that holds them together and damned if he won’t as well in this match.”

“But he is going to have to count a pin fall on one of these men, and who will it be? We already can tell that he’s pretty close to Hearford, but he’s going to face this man at From the Fire and you have to wonder if that will affect his judgment in some way…”

As Tom makes it into the ring, the symphonic hook hits, triggering off a blue machine gun pyro

“Weighing at 213 pounds and hailing from Buffalo, New York… he’s the best referee you’ve ever laid eyes on and he’s doing it for free, the man who calls it like it is, the unscrupulous, incorruptible, and all around better than you…your very, very, VERY Special Referee for tonight, TOM FLESHER!”

Tom gives a few golf claps for himself as the crowd gives him some vigorous booing, and he goes into the middle of the ring as the lights begin to dim down…

“And now our challenger…”

The opening organ notes from Bach’s “Toccata and Fugue in D Minor” eerily float out over the PA system, and with that, white strobe lights instantly begin lighting off, giving a stop motion effect across the whole arena. A dark figure, features fully covered up by a black trench coat, steps out onto the ramp as the crowd begins to show their hatred vocally. An electric guitar sets into the music as the submission musician tosses the bulky overcoat off, and as the electric guitar and organ do dueling 32nd note runs, Fugue walks down the ramp, a lucid grin on his face.

“Weighing in at 181 pounds and hailing from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania… FUGUE!” Bellows Funyon as Grand Slam shuffles through his notes a little, stopping at the information he wants.

“Fugue has been on one tough schedule as of late, facing off against ELM, Mak Francis, and Michael Craven before picking up his first singles win against Xero. I’m sure he doesn’t want to break the streak here.”

“He’s certainly going to give the Judge a good run for his money, but I’m sure the best man is going to come out on top with the best man in the business watching over things.”

The strobe effect begins to die down as Fugue slides under the bottom rope and enters the ring, his Magnificent 7 Football jersey reading “Submission Musician” on the back. He shakes hands with Tom, and he pushes away some of his ragged hair out of his eyes as he goes off to his corner.

“And finally, the Champion…”

The lights turn a harsh red, and a steady drumbeat begins to pulsate across the speakers. It slowly but surely gets louder, and louder, until it reaches a deafening level before…

“NOW TESTIFY!”

Multiple rows of red pyros go off all around the stage as while Rage Against The Machine’s “Testify” plays on, and the Judge, William Hearford, steps out onto the ramp. He shoulders the Hardcore Gamers Title and walks down the ramp to jeers and taunts, giving a few angry glares at some of the more vocal fans. Noticeably missing are his flowing Judicial robes, now replaced by his own Magnificent 7 Football jersey with “Justice” inscribed on the back.

“Weighing in at 242 pounds and hailing from Royal Oak, Michigan… All Rise the Hardcore Gamers Champion… ‘THE JUDGE’ WILLIAM HEARFORD!”

“See?” Riley says, noting the Judge’s jersey as he slides into the ring and goes over to shakes Tom’s hand, “True Solidarity. These guys are here to kick ass together, which is more than I can say for that jumbled mess you call the Carnival.”

“The Carnival have seen better days, but they always stick together through thick and thin. I personally wouldn’t trust any of those men in there with my jock strap.”

“What about me?”

Grand Slam looks at him cock-eyed and blinks once. “No, and lets never talk ever talk about you with my jockstrap again…”

The Judge immediately walks over to his corner to stretch out for the match, but before Funyon can leave the ring Tom snatches his mic away.

“Hello out there people,” He says with a grin, only just audible above the boos, “I know you people have come here to see two idiots clobber each other with chairs, kendo sticks, cheese graters, and whatever demented implements of pain you could think of...” Tom stops as he gets one of the few pops in his career- “But of course, we couldn’t find two idiots because Annie Eclectic is off and Michael Craven is preparing to get his ass kicked in the next match.” – Which turns right into instant heat from the angry fans. “See, these two guys here are above all that crap, and I’m WAY above it as well. So tonight we are going to give you a special treat.”

“SHUT UP!” “ASSHOLE!” “SHUT UP!” “ASS HOLE!” Dueling chants are spring up on each side of the arena, causing Tom a little irritation, but nothing more than that.

“Tonight the Magnificent 7 is going to give you one of the best, most technically sound matches ever!” Massive boos, and Mark Stevens puts his outrage into words.

“I’m sorry, but this is NOT what the fans paid for, Bobbie.”

“I know! What a deal! I mean, normally you’d only see this type of stuff on a PPV-”

“No! These people obviously want to see some real hardcore wrestling, and Tom has no right to deny these people what they want.”

“He can do WHATEVER he wants, Grand Slam. He’s the damn referee, and his word is law. Now these people are going to get a damn good match and they are going to enjoy it.”

Tom calls both of the men over to the middle, where each reach out and give each other a quick, firm handshake. Once that little team formality is over, they separate and Flesher points at the time keepers table to start the match.

*DING DING DING*

As the bell goes off, each man takes up a low grappler stance and begins to circle one another, looking for an opening in the other man’s defenses. The first to strike is Fugue, who quickly dashes in, trying to get a quick hold on Hearford’s arm, but the Judge spins around and tries to catch Fugue in a headlock. Fugue, from practicing with an amateur like Tom, instinctively ducks his head in, and Hearford’s bicep isn’t able to catch his neck, but only impacts a little on the side of the Musician’s head. Fugue puts a waistlock on the old man, but it doesn’t last as the old man throws a few shots to the head to release himself from the hold. Fugue stumbles back a few steps, and Hearford quickly swings around and gives a few kicks to the submission musician’s knee, causing him to stagger back a little more. In the background, Tom crosses his arms and nods approvingly as light boos can be heard from around the place.

“Well, I guess we have no choice but to be held hostage to Tom Flesher’s demands.”

“God this great! Look at that chain wrestling! Thank God Tom didn’t have them go into that crappy brawling stuff.”

“And we already have one man suffering from Stockholm syndrome…”

The veteran ringman tries for another kick to Fugue’s knee, but this time the smaller man spins his leg out of the way, going to the ground and taking Hearford right off his feet with a spinning sweep kick! Fugue wastes no time on the ground, immediately going after the arm and putting an Armbar. Hearford keeps both shoulders off the mat to prevent a pin, but Fugue keeps a good hold on the arm, stretching it a little. This causes the Judge to blink hard, trying to ignore the pain of Fugue trying to hyperextend his elbow.

“It looks like the Judge is concentrating on the legs while Fugue is going after the arms. I find it a little odd that Hearford isn’t targeting Fugue’s neck as that’s been the source of lingering problems with that area.”

“Mark, I’d agree with you if they weren’t in the same stable. The Judge doesn’t want to injure Fugue, just beat him to retain his title. Now that’s team spirit, unlike certain other people in other stables *coughEdwincoughcoughRaynorGenesisIIIcough*…”

“Bobby, if you do that again, I will throttle you right here and now…” says Mark in his soft yet utterly pissed off voice.

Riley looks nervously at the angry Grand Slam for a moment, and suddenly points back to the action to change the subject. “Hey look! The Judge got a footing on the mat! Yeah, he’s trying to get up! Oh boy, exciting!”

Indeed, Hearford has been able to get himself a stable footing on the mat, and he slowly begins to get to his feet as Fugue continues to hold onto the Armbar. He finally gets to his feet, wincing a little as Fugue puts more pressure on the hold, but he begins dealing out side kicks to the knee of Fugue, causing the Musician to give up the hold before Mental really starts to dish out the pain. They go back out and into a circle as Flesher gives them some indiscriminant golf clapping for support. The crowd, however, isn’t as happy with the display.

“BOR-ING!”

“BOR-ING!”

“BOR-ING!”

Flesher turns around and tries to get the crowd into it by pointing at the two and trying to get some cheers up for them, but the crowd continues to no-sell it. Meanwhile, the Judge dashes in, trying to put a collar and elbow tie up, but Fugue backs away and fires off a closed fist at him, nailing him right in the jaw.

“Fugue’s smartly trying to avoid the strength of the Judge, and he’s going right after the arms to put that power out of action. On the other hand, we have Hearford trying to keep in close where he can use that power, and it looks like he’s targeting the legs to cut down on Fugue’s obvious speed advantage.”

“But you forgot Tom’s incredibly displays of encouragement! They are certainly driving them to new levels!”

“Oh yes,” Grand Slam replies sarcastically, “We can never underestimate the incredible power of his little golf clap there.”

“Damn straight. Now you are talking my language.”

Hearford shakes off the punch quick enough and responds with a sharp knife-edged chop, which pushes Fugue back a little (WHOO!). Fugue trades another blow with Mental, nailing him right in the shoulder, and the Judge goes for another chop in response… but Fugue’s quick reflexes allows him to catch the arm at his chest. He tries putting the Judge on the ground with a Fujiwara Armbar, something deadly in a match with no rope break, but Hearford’s ring instinct kicks in and he’s able to flip around before he hits the mat. Seeing this, Fugue shifts his body to the other side of the Judge’s arm, putting him in what looks to be a Reverse Fujiwara Armbar of sorts.

“Interesting move by the Judge, but Fugue isn’t letting up at all on his efforts to kill that arm.” Notes Grand Slam dryly as Hearford lies down on his back for a moment…

ONE!
TWO!
T-And the Judge’s shoulder shoots back up, and the old veteran shakes his head a little as he tries to keep focused on the match. Meanwhile, Tom tells him to stay aware of what he’s doing as he gets back up to his feet.

“After that quick count it looks like Tom is making sure that Hearford is going to stay alert at all times while in those holds.”

“He’s right, though: If you start to lose your focus in a submission against a person like Fugue it’s gonna be over real quick. He’s going to have to watch himself a little more carefully from now on.”

The Judge grits his teeth as Fugue applies more pressure to the hold, and he fires off a punch to the back of Fugue’s head, causing the man to put more effort into the hold. Hearford pushes himself back onto the mat in pain…

ONE!
TWO-And he gets the shoulder up again. Tom again gives him some words of about awareness, though the crowd is quite ticked with this little game.

“TAP OUT!”

“NEXT MATCH!”

“TAP OUT!”

“NEXT MATCH!”

Again, dueling chants coming from each side of the arena, and Bobbie Riley expresses his displeasure.

“This has to be one of the dumbest crowds ever!” he says, crossing his arms across his chest. “Don’t they see this great Hardcore match right before them?”

“Bobbie, this isn’t a Hardcore match at all. This is just people like Tom and the Judge trying to impose their style on everyone. That is not Hardcore wrestling in the ring.”

“Oh bull crap. If you want weedwhackers, go down to the JL. I’m sure those drugged out Horrorcore guys will give you some. But ‘til then, just watch as some real wrestlers show you how it’s done.”

The Judge fires off another shot to Fugue’s head, stunning Fugue long enough for him to get off another, and yet another one that finally breaks the madman’s grip on his arm. Hearford quickly gets back up to his feet, shaking off his arm in an effort to lessen the pain. Meanwhile, Fugue gets back up to his feet, holding the back of his head, and gives Judge his always cruel smile. They look at each other for a moment, and nod before starting again. Fugue dashes in again, aiming for Mental’s arm, but the Judge again is able to get away from the musician’s grip, and as he passes by he grabs his arm and twists it for a wristlock, which he holds onto and begins giving stiff kicks to the back of Fugue’s knee, causing him to buckle and go to his knees. He gives it another stomp or two before releasing the hold, and he quickly moves in to apply a Boston Crab…

“Tenacious technical work by these two, even though it’s a Hardcore Gamers Title match, but must give credit where credit is due.”

… And does, quickly grabbing the leg and stretching it back like there is no tomorrow. Fugue tenses up as his leg is pulled back beyond its normal limits, and Tom goes down, switching between asking for the tap out and telling him to get out of the submission. It doesn’t take Fugue long to think of a way out as he begins to reach back with one of his arms and begins to pull at Hearford’s leg. Getting a good grip, he pulls it backwards, trying to take the Judge off his feet. The Judge struggles to keep his footing as his fellow Magnificent 7 member begins to pull him off-balance.

“Excellent counter by Fugue, grabbing at the Judge’s legs to make Hearford fall over and release the hold. These two seem to know a counter for all the other’s moves.”

“You get that way when you train with the same guy every day. I mean, by the time Tyler McClelland and I graduated from college we knew each other so well I could name his underwear size off hand.”

“… Christ, I didn’t need to know that…”

Fugue pulls back with all his might, and the Judge can no longer keep his balance as he lets go of the leg and takes a few steps forward to prevent himself from falling to the mat. He gives his head an angry shake, peeved that he didn’t expect Fugue to do that, and turns around as the sadistic madman stands back up, rubbing his leg a little. As they both stand up, Flesher pulls the mic back up to his mouth and says “Let’s give them a hand for some great wrestling there.” Of course, the fans’ response is obvious.

“WE WANT HARD-CORE! *Clap Clap ClapClapClap*! WE WANT HARD-CORE! *Clap Clap ClapClapClap*!”

A few hockey chants start up again as Flesher turns angrily back to his two stablemates, who take a few seconds to catch their breath before going right back into it. They open up with a quick lock up, but Fugue is quick to take the upper hand again, ducking under Hearford’s bad arm and putting on it in a Hammerlock. He torques it upwards a little, causing the Judge to go high up on his toes in an effort to relieve the pressure on his sore appendage. The smaller man wraps his free arm around the Judge’s waist, and, in an incredible act of strength, is able to bring him over the top for a Hammerlock Suplex! The Judge hits the ground hard, and he rolls on the ground in pain holding his bad arm.

“Wow! It looks like Fugue stole the Judge’s Hammerlock Suplex for the occasion, and boy that had to hurt Hearford’s already tender arm.”

Tom gives Fugue a pat on the back for that one, but Fugue doesn’t celebrate for long, walking over to the hurt Mental and executing a knee drop right onto his elbow. The Judge gives an “Aah!” as legs of his Magnificent 7 teammate crushes his arm, and quickly Fugue wraps his legs around the arm and tries to pull it out in Cross Armbreaker fashion! Instinctively Hearford grabs his hand to keep it from stretching out, but Fugue’s grip is iron clad as he tries to lock in the deadly submission.

“And the Judge just BARELY stops the Crucifix Armbar attempt. If Fugue gets that on him there is nothing that will save him here.”

“See? These guys are just brilliant submissions masters. It’s like a complex game of chess, where you are always one step away from checkmate… or getting frustrated and just trying checkers instead.”

Hearford struggles to maintain a firm grip on his hands as the devilish Fugue continues to try and yank it away. The Judge kicks his legs across the mat, and gets some footing on the mat. He pushes himself up while Fugue continues to try for the Crucifix Armbar, and he stands up, pinning Fugue’s shoulders to the mat.

ONE!
TWO!
THR-Fugue is barely able to release the hold and get his shoulders up in time as Tom tries to test his awareness with a fast count. Fugue doesn’t hold back this time, voluntarily going for a collar-and-elbow tie up with the much larger Judge.

“Well, I guess he had to screw up sometime…” Says Riley in a disappointed tone of voice, but instead of getting out-powered, Fugue is actually holding his own!

“Hearford can’t do much with that arm now,” Mark says as the Judge winces from using his bad arm, “And Fugue can really take it to him now in close!”

Fugue tries to take control of the lock up, pushing the Judge back a few steps, but Hearford throws a knee right into the submission musician’s stomach. He reflectively doubles over, and Mental reaches down and folds Fugue’s leg up before picking him up… And landing him right back on his open knee for a shin breaker! Fugue goes to the ground holding his leg, while the Judge follows up, giving it boot shots before the smaller man can react.

“And the Judge is able to come back and NAIL that leg with a shin breaker. Fugue’s going to have trouble moving around like he did after that one and it looks like no one has a real advantage anymore.”

The cranky council takes Fugue’s bad leg and spins it around, bending it at the knee over the other leg before falling backwards with a Figure Four Leglock! Flesher gives a few more golf claps before walking over and asking Fugue if he’d like to give up, which he shakes his head at. The pain is immense, and Fugue beats his head against the mat a few times trying to ignore it.

“Figure Four Leglock! This could be over right here, Bobbie! The pressure on that leg has to be excruciating, and I doubt even someone with Fugue’s pain threshold can ignore it for long.”

Fugue twists in agony as the Judge moves the straighten leg up against Fugue’s bent leg even more, but the Submission Musician doesn’t give up. He begins twisting his body over, trying to flip the leglock over to relieve the pressure on his leg. Hearford tries to stop him, pressing his arm up against the mat, but Fugue is desperate, and with one mighty effort is able to flip the hold over!

The Hardcore Gamers Champion doesn’t waste much time in giving up on the hold, and gets back and pulls up a recovering Fugue to his feet. He flips his arm over and readies himself for a Suplex, but Fugue grapevines his good leg around the Judge’s as he tries to bring him over the top. The sandbagging pays off, and the Judge can’t bring him over the top, and as he’s let back down he ducks under Mental’s arm and is able to get behind him, putting on a waistlock. The Judge tries to fire off a few elbows, but Fugue is able to duck them, and once again, he pulls up the Judge…. And plants him into the ground with a German Suplex! Tom goes down for the count, but Fugue isn’t done there. Aiming to impress his leader, Fugue weathers the pain in his leg and is able to flip over the top and bridges out again in a Japanese style pin!

ONE!


TWO!



THREENO! The Judge barely kicks out of the German, and Fugue falls off onto his back.

“That was a one impressive pin there, eh Bobbie?”

“Yeah, the last time I saw a guy bridging like that was-” Immediately Grand Slam puts his hand over Riley’s mouth.

“Bobbie, just say ‘Yes, it was’.”

“Yes, it was.”

“Dodged a bullet there…” mummers Grand Slam as Tom once again tries to get some of the crowd to give the men credit, but that only starts up more “WE WANT HARDCORE!*Clap Clap ClapClapClap*!” chants.

Fugue goes down towards the dazed Judge, and rolls him onto his belly so that he can scissor his legs around his one arm…

“Fugue’s going for the Minor Chord! With Hearford’s arms in the shape they are he’s done for!” yells Riley as Fugue leans back and tries to grab the Judge’s other arm to complete the Rings of Saturn-like move… but the Judge pulls his arm away and pushes himself off the ground, getting schoolboy-like rollup on the surprised Fugue!

ONE!

Fugue tries to kick out, but his bad leg just can’t get the power…

TWO!

“Surprise Rollup on Fugue! The Judge could have this won!”


THREEEEEENO! Fugue is able to muster enough strength to kick out of the abrupt rollup.

“Nice job there by the Judge to stay away from a match-winning submission. He certainly knows his stuff.”

“Yeah, but he got pretty lucky as well, Mark. I don’t think he’ll be able to pull that move on Fugue again.”

Fugue doesn’t have much of a chance to get back up as the Judge is quick to give him a boot to the stomach. While he sucks wind, Hearford grabs Fugue’s legs and pulls them up, putting his own leg between them for a Sharpshooter! He wraps Fugue’s legs around his own and goes to turn it over… But Fugue grabs the leg his own are wrapped around and brings the Judge down in a Cross Kneebreaker!... But before he can start torquing the hold, Hearford quickly wraps his free leg around Fugue’s other leg, forming a mess of legs around one another.

“Look at these counters, Mark! I mean, a Sharpshooter into a Crucifix Kneebar, which Hearford has expertly blocked…”

“I’ll give them credit; they know their stuff. But I don’t think that the crowd is quite impressed…”

Indeed, only more booing is coming from the crowd as the submissions masters go through the motions of their moves, trying to gain control of the hold. Suddenly, another chant started by some SJL fans starts up.

“DACE F’N NIGHT! DACE F’N NIGHT! DACE F’N NIGHT!”

“Dace Effan Night? Is that some sort of college holiday or something?” Says a confused Riley, and Mark shakes his head.

“They’re talking about Dace Night, one of the most hardcore JLers this side of Jay Dawg. It’s obvious they want some real Hardcore wrestlers to come down here…”

The chant goes on as the two finally give up on the holds, releasing them at around the same time. The chant doesn’t really catch on since this is the SWF, but some of the fans get the same idea and start up their own chant.

“ANNIE E! ANNIE E! ANNIE E!”

“Aw, they are NOT chanting what I think they are chanting…”

“Oh yes they are! They want the Hardcore Queen out here to show these two what Hardcore really is.”

“More like washed-up queen. The Judge has beaten her twice in a row, both in Hardcore Title matches.”

Hearford gets back up to his feet ever so slightly faster than Fugue, and is able to nail him with a hard left hand. Fugue, staggers a little, and the Judge immediately gives him a sharp kick right to his bad leg. The Submission Musician’s leg nearly buckles but he’s able to stay up, giving the Judge just enough time to go behind him and cinch a waistlock. He goes to lift Fugue off the ground, but the madman doesn’t go quietly, sandbagging as well as he can and putting elbow shots right into that bad arm. He’s able to get it off once, but Mental doesn’t give up, almost instantly relocking it in. Fugue tries the same strategy, but the Judge won’t be denied. With an incredible effort he lifts him up and over… and releases him in mid air as the pain in his arm becomes unbearable!

“Dangerous German, though it looked to be on accident. All those submissions earlier in the match have taken their toll on the Judge’s arm, and it looks like it’s in serious pain now.”

The Judge lifts himself off the ground with his good arm, and he slowly moves over to Fugue and hooks a leg for the cover!

ONE!


TWO!



THREEEEEEEEENO! Fugue is still able to kick out of the Dangerous German!

“And Fugue is still able to kick out at the last moment. The man doesn’t know when to stay down, Grand Slam.”

Tired and hurting, the Judge tries for the cover again…

ONE!


TWO!



THREENO! He gets the shoulder up again, and the Judge shakes his head in disbelief. He pulls Fugue up slowly. Instead of going for one of his normal Suplexes, he goes to drop down for a DDT… But Fugue resists! With his last bit of strength, Fugue is able to stay back, and he’s able to slip his head from the facelock. He spins around back and begins to hook a chickenwing in…

“CODA! HE’S GOING FOR CODA!!” Cries Riley, but preemptively, as the Judge pulls his arm away and puts Fugue’s head in a ¾ headlock!

“Surprise Witness! Surprise Witness!” Calls Mark, but again he’s wrong as two continue to counter each other. Fugue hits the injured arm of Mental, making the old man release the headlock. The Submission Musician shoves his arm through the Judge’s armpits, locking in a full nelson!

“Fugue’s setting up the Major Chord! Hearford is DONE! New Champ! New Champ!” But he isn’t done, as he gives a sharp kick right back into the bad leg of Fugue, and the madman releases the hold for a moment while Hearford turns around. He puts on a hard front facelock, hooks Fugue’s bad leg with his good arm, and puts all his power into this final move…


WHAM!!!!

“Perfect Plex! Mental switch arms so he could nail an excellent Fisherman’s Suplex on Fugue!”

“He’s got that bad leg hooked, Mark! I don’t think Fugue can get out of this one!” says Riley as Tom dives down for the count!

ONE!!!

Fugue weakly tries kicking out, but the good arm of Hearford holds against the weakened leg of Fugue…



TWO!!!

He tries again, but he just can’t quite get enough….



…. One last effort….



T
H
R
E
E
E
E
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!

… And the grip of the Judge holds out!

*DING DING DING*

“Your winner, and STILL Hardcore Gamer’s Champion…. ‘THE JUDGE’ WILLIAM HEARFORD!!!” Bellows Funyon over the torrent of boos reigning down on the three men. Tom pulls up the panting and tired Judge by the arm. He’s run ragged, and Tom goes over and pulls Fugue up as well, and the two battered combatants give a sportsman-like shake of hands before they begin to walk up the ramp together.

“Well, the crowd certainly wasn’t pleased with the match…” Says Grand Slam as he looks at all the fans booing.

“Meh, let them. They don’t know what they missed.”

“Well, up next is a triple threat between Michael Craven, CIA, and Johnny Dangerous-”

“I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I hope Michael Craven kicks both their asses in.”

“-So stay tuned!”

Fade to commercial…
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+Quote Post
Guest_TheBostonStrangler_*
post Mar 6 2003, 02:34 PM
Post #4





Guests






HIS ABILITY...







UNEQUALLED








HIS ANGER...







UNBELIEVABLE








HIS WRATH...







UNBEARABLE









HIS LEGACY...








UNDENIABLE







HIS RECORD...










UNTOUCHABLE










MARCH 2003








FROM THE FIRE








THE MOST DANGEROUS MAN IN IGNWF HISTORY RETURNS







GET READY
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+Quote Post
Guest_TheBostonStrangler_*
post Mar 6 2003, 02:35 PM
Post #5





Guests






“Johnny?”

Wildchild is wandering around backstage at the Thomas and Mack Center, stopping everyone he walks past and asking them if they’ve seen his erstwhile tag team partner.

“Johnny?”

OOF!

As Wildchild turns a corner, he runs into the chest of Jamie “Jay Dawg” Drazon. “I think you took a wrong turn.” grumbles Jay Dawg.

“Perdon, monsieur Drazon, but have you seen Johnny?”

“Look rookie, I don’t know where your little imaginery friend is, and I don’t care, but if you don’t stop looking in my general direction, I'm going to beat you like a ragdoll!”

Wildchild sighs in frustration. “Fine, ‘den. Jus’ let me by, an’ I be on my way…”

ZOT!

As he tries to walk past Jay Dawg, Drazon shoves his hand into Wildchild’s face and pushes him backwards. The Bahama Bomber stumbles into the wall and then springs back, surprising Jay Dawg with an uppercut to the chin. An enraged Drazon lunges at Wildchild, who ducks underneath him. Just as Wildchild prepares to pounce on Drazon’s back, a cadre of referees and officials run between them, separating the two.

“You’re dead, rookie,” shouts Drazon as 6 officials drag him away from Wildchild. “I’m gonna (bleep) you up!”

FADE OUT
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+Quote Post
Guest_TheBostonStrangler_*
post Mar 6 2003, 02:36 PM
Post #6





Guests






-We fade back in, only we see nothing...-

Stevens: All right, we're back, and -- ... what the hell?

From the seemingly dark room, a voice whispers out of the shadows...

"Hey you. Yeah you. Come over here. You know what this is. I've played this game before. So many incredible highs. Such gut wrenching lows. Why did I walk away, you ask? It's so simple. Yet so very complicated. You see, I've walked the lonely and angry road. And I went through the ritual of X Force Nine. But is it really what I wanted? No. I've made it clear what I wanted. I can do it. I know I can do it ... Silly me. *scoffs* You don't actually KNOW what it is I want. My exploits here aren't unheard of. I've beaten some people here before. Mostly everybody. Most ... but one. In due time, I think he'll recognize himself. Too much bad blood. Too much hatred. Unresolved differences. But it's not only for him. But for what he has. He's got something that; one way or another, it's destined to be mine. Even if it's just for a week. Or a few minutes. I will have it. And this time, no distractions. This one's for me ..."

Back to live action, as we see CIA stepping out of his dressing room and warming up for his upcoming triple threat match...
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+Quote Post
Guest_TheBostonStrangler_*
post Mar 6 2003, 02:37 PM
Post #7





Guests






As we come back from a brief break in the action, the camera zooms around the Thomas and Mack Center, taking in legions of rabidly cheering SWF fans. It finally comes to rest on the (in)famous SWF announcers, sitting as usual at ringside.

Stevens: Welcome back to SWF Lockdown, coming to you from Las Vegas, Nevada! Where everything is bigger and better!!!

Riley: Where everything is legal, even prostitution!!!

Stevens: Where it?s OK to listen to your Liberace CDs at any time!!!

Riley: ...You know, that one REALLY hurt...

Stevens: But enough non-sense, as next, CIA and Johnny Dangerous take on Michael Craven, #1 Contender to the US Title, in a triple threat match!!! Craven looks to be back and with a new style, hoping to plow through these two on his way to an SWF US Title shot!!! But can he overcome the hometown favorite and the Canuck Carnie to pull off the victory? Let?s find out as we send it off to Funyon!!!

The lights in the arena change, slightly, everything acquiring a red tinge, as the SmarkTron flickers to life, portraying a Canadian flag, flowing in the wind, and the instrumental accompaniment to 'O Canada' playing. Or at least, the first verse, before a soft, digitized female voice cuts in, whispering through the arena speakers for all to hear 'Midnight Carnival', the image on the titantron showing the members of the Carnival standing side by side for a single instant, and then....


*BOOM!* A bright red rush of pyro shoots up along the stage, glittering points of red light slowly drifting down from above, and a voice rings out, accompanied by the opening riff to 'Secret Agent Man', and the emergance of a masked figure, microphone in hand, Smarktron showing highlights of some of CIA's finest moments, although for CIA, finest moments varies between amazing athletic feats, and silly showboating.

Funyon: The following contest is a Triple Threat Match scheduled for one-fall!!! Introducing first, from Ottawa, Ontario, Canada, weighing in at 237 pounds, he's a member of The Midnight Carnival... C-I-AAAAAA!!!

As Funyon finishes up, CIA slides into the ring with the mic, looking around at the cheering fans, then raises the mic to his lips as he speaks over the dimmed music...

CIA: I?m here in Sin City, it?s really a blast, but things are gonna change, because tonight, I?ll-

?BOOM-BOOM BOOM... BOOM...?

The lights suddenly cut out at this moment, cutting CIA off as the crowd begins to boo. Strobe lights pulse to the beat as Audioslave?s ?Cochise? kicks in, smoke spewing from vents in front of the entrance as the drums cue in 24 seconds into the song. This is when golden waterfalls of pyro similar begin flowing from the top of the SmarkTron and the crowd really begins to raise their boos louder.

Riley: Time to see the #1 Contender to the US Title!!!

A huge pyro blast kicks up from the front of the stage at the guitar drop, about 50 seconds into the song, strobes still going. Suddenly, as Chris Cornell begins to sing, a spotlight shines down on Michael Craven, standing on stage. He stops turning to look at the fans, and quickly, he spins around twice, finishing by pointing to himself and flexing as the crowd begins to boo so loud, it hurts. He follows it up by walking down the ramp in a half-strut, like the cocky SOB that he is as he can as Funyon looks down at a little 3x5 card.

Funyon: And his opponents: First, from Tampa, Florida, weighing in at 265 pounds, he is The Next SWF US Champion... ladies and gentlemen... MICHAEL CRAAA-VENNNN!!!

Stevens: Like it or not, Michael Craven is #1 Contender to the US Championship, even though he didn?t neccesarily obtain it by rightful means...

Riley: Aw, blow it out your ear. He made Wildchild tap!!! Craven?s just too tough to tame!!!

He enters the ring by hopping over the top rope, landing on his feet. He climbs the turnbuckle closest to the crowd, points to himself, and then flexes his biceps, smiling as the crowd continues to boo him. Mike then hops off the turnbuckle, turning to face CIA with a piercing gaze of hatred. CIA looks back with a similar look. He has not forgotten what Craven did to him at the Escape From Alcatraz match, and Craven still hasn?t forgotten what he did do to CIA. The two men stand, toe to toe...

And all goes silent.

Then, the house lights dim as a females voice says...



?Johnny Dangerous!?


And the fans respond with an unprecidented, insanely loud roar of cheers!

Suddenly the theme from ?Mission Impossible 2? by Limp Bizkit rocks out from the massive wall to wall sound system as colorful arrays of lights begins circling over the arena. On the screen various clips of Johnny Dangerous performing many spy like actions (Like leaping from a 50 story building window to catch a dangling ladder from a helicopter, etc.) mixed with clips of Johnny?s in ring fights are displayed as Johnny strides from backstage and to the ring with out a care in the world, taking the time to wink at a few ladies or even blow a kiss in there general direction before hopping foot into the ring.

Funyon: And, from LAS VEGAS, NEVADA *significant pop here*, weighing in at 210 pounds... laides and gentlemen, the one and only... JOHNNY DANGERRRRRRR-OUSSSSSS!!!!!

Johnny hops onto the turnbuckle, whoring himself out to his hometown crowd as they cant for more, but alas, he must get to the mat, hopping off the turnbuckle.

Fans: DAN-GER-OUS!!! DAN-GER-OUS!!!

Stevens: Looks like the fans are behind Dangerous here at the beginning, as we are live in Johnny?s hometown of Las Vegas!

Riley: No, really... I can?t hear that myself...

Referee Timmy Thompson turns to look at the timekeeper, then signals, leading to...


DING DING DING!!!

As the men turn around, ready to begin, CIA looks up, getting an eyeful of Craven?s forearm just before it slams into his face, clotheslining CIA to the mat! Craven runs through the blow, slowing after he makes contact. Dangerous, though, charges at Craven from behind, ready to knock him to the mat with a forearm, but Craven grabs him around the head, and dropping to a knee, throws him over his shoulder. The countering snapmare plants Dangerous on his back and he cries in pain, clutching the back as he slowly gets onto his feet. Craven waits for Dangerous to get up, but before he can, a mostly-recovered CIA throws a knee into Craven?s back. Michael throws his head back, crying in pain as CIA wraps his arm around Craven?s neck and drops back, dropping Mike onto the mat with a reverse DDT!

Stevens: Painful reverse DDT from CIA!!! Craven?s gotta have had the wind knocked out of him by that!!!

CIA gets up from the DDT, getting to his feet just as Johnny Dangerous brings his leg up, directly kicking CIA?s arm. The Canuck cries in pain, clutching it for a second as he turns the arm away from Johnny, trying to shield it, but sadly, it does no use as Johnny follows. Another kick, and CIA drops to his knees, trying depserately to keep his arm from becoming a weakness. Johnny grabs hold of CIA, pulling him up onto his feet before kicking him in the gut. CIA doubles over momentarily, just enough time for Dangerous to grasp CIA in a front headlock. He stomps the mat before he pulls CIA backwards sharply, lifting him up and back with a Chris Benoit-like snap suplex!! A small thud is made as CIA hits the mat on his back, but both he and Dangerous are quick to get back to their feet.

Riley: And how is this match supposed to be enjoyable, again?

Stevens: It?s supposed to be a fun and exciting match, Bobby.

Riley: Bah! Fun and excitement is watching people bleed and break bones, not this technical triple threat crap! Give me hardcore, or give me death!!!

As they get up, CIA?s chest is impacted with the right palm of one Johnny Dangerous, and as CIA stands there with a stunned look on his face, Dangerous hooks the arm of CIA and falls to the ground. CIA lets a cry of shock out as he is pulled down with a quick arm drag, and upon hitting the mat, Dangerous gets onto one knee, still grabbing that one arm of CIA. He wraps his arms around CIA's bad arm, locking the elbow straight out while applying pressure and a hold in the form of a basic armbar!

Riley: And he slaps on an armbar. What does he think this is, a match for the US Title?

CIA?s eyelids shut, his teeth clenching as he tries to fight through the hold. With his free arm, he plants it on the mat and pushes upwards, forcing himself up against Johnny?s wishes. Johnny attempts to send him back down with a twist of the locked arm, and though CIA drops to a knee for a sec, it is not enough to keep him down. As soon as he gets to his feet, CIA looks down, and jumping into the air, thrusts his legs out, nailing Johnny on top of the knee with a crude dropkick! Johnny releases the arm, falling onto back as he loses his balance, but he and CIA abroptly get up, face-to-face. As they do, though, CIA grabs through Johnny's legs and picks him up before he slams him down on his back!

Stevens: Bodyslam from CIA!!!

Dangerous lies out on his back, but as CIA stands over him, grabbing him to pick him up, Michael Craven attacks from behind, lashing out with a boot to the back of CIA?s head!! CIA is thrown forward by the blow, but Craven grabs hold of him, pulling him back upright and turning him around. Forcing CIA to bend over with a grunt, Mike applies a front face lock on CIA and drops back, executing a spiffy little DDT that shakes the ring!!

Stevens: Textbook DDT from Craven, wait, he?s rolling CIA over... COVER!

One!

Kickout from CIA, frustrating Craven as the crowd responds with a loud cheer! As Craven gets to his feet, he hears the sound of footsteps and turns himself around, only to meet face-to-face with Johnny Dangerous as he leaps at Craven, arms extended before he collides into Craven with a flying clothesline from the ground! Craven and Dangerous both fall to the mat, slow to recover as the crowd begins to react to Dangerous? move with plenty of cheers.

Stevens: Dangerous is making his come back, the energy of the crowd fueling his every move!!!

Riley: You believe in that stuff? Meh. It?s all hokey-pokey kindergarten stuff, if you ask me.

As the two men get to their feet, Craven lunges out, attempting to grab Johnny, but before he can grab Dangerous, he ducks, sliding down between Craven?s open legs. Johnny hops to his feet on the other side, using his speed to his advantage while grabbing Craven around the head. As soon as he?s got the reverse headlock in, Craven is thrown back as Johnny sits down, executing a beautiful reverse neckbreaker! Craven drops to the mat, remaining down as Dangerous rises to a chorus of cheers. As Johnny gets to his feet, he jumps off the ground. The crowd in the arena cheers loudly as the secret agent pulls his legs up into a sitting position before he comes down hard on Craven, slamming his chest with a leg drop! Craven lets out a cry of pain as Johnny lands on him, but Dangerous remains on top, holding him down for a pinning attempt!

Stevens: Here?s a pinfall for Dangerous!!!

One!


Tw-Kickout from Craven, frustrating Dangerous as the crowd responds with a loud sigh. As Dangerous gets to his feet, he immediately drops an elbow into Craven?s chest, then gets to his feet before he begins to stomp away. Craven cries out with each stomp, trying to guard his upper body and face, but he can?t block every stomp Johnny throws at him as the Super Spy connects on a few. All the meanwhile, Craven has been slowly trying to get to his feet, forced down by the stomps of Dangerous, but now, as he is on his feet, Dangerous pulls out the Hogan combo: ?BAM!? One... ?BAM!? two... ?BAM!? three hard overhand rights, then a quick whip to the ropes!

Riley: Jesus, can this match be any more BORING? Whips, armbars... this isn?t ECW-style!!! Let?s pick it up, boys!!!

Stevens: Everything?s got to be blood-filled with you, doesn?t it?

Riley: That?s the way, uh-huh, uh-huh, I like it... uh-huh, uh-huh...

Stevens: Don?t do that anymore. This isn?t 1975...

As Craven returns from the ropes, Johnny leaps into the air, Craven flying back from the ropes while Johnny lands on his shoulders. His legs wrap around Michael?s neck before he flips himself back, sweeping Craven off his feet and driving him down into the mat with a hurracanrana! Dangerous lands on his knees as Craven?s back slams into the mat with stunning force!

Stevens: Beautiful hurracanrana from Johnny Dangerous!

Riley: Look at the flaws in that move!!! He landed two inches off of where he should have landed, and the rotational torque of Michael Craven?s body was too fast!

Craven sits up from the blow, slowly trying to get to his feet.

Stevens: Will you stop being such a pessimist?

Riley: I?m not. I?m an optimist. And that?s as optimistic as I can be with this shoddy work you call wrestling.

Meanwhile, Johnny Dangerous grabs the stunned Michael Craven, by the back of the head, placing Craven?s chin on his head before he drops to his knees, Craven?s head bouncing off Johnny?s skull as The Barricuda nails a jawbreaker! As a result of the move?s recoil on its victim, Craven flies back into the air, hitting the ropes with his back as Johnny gets off his knees, moving towards the downed Craven while the crowd pops in response!

Stevens: Jawbreaker by Johnny Dangerous!!! And here?s the pinfall attempt!!!

One!

Two!!!


Broken up by CIA, quickly stomping into Johnny?s back! The crowd boos at this move while CIA continues to deliver stomps to the downed Johnny Dangerous!! Dangerous slightly grunts with each blow until CIA grabs him, dragging Johnny up otno his feet!

Stevens: A break up by CIA, and the crowd does not like this at all!!!

Riley: Oh come on!!! These fools don?t know what wrestling is! CIA is just trying to do his job. If they don?t like it... too bad!!! They can suck my dick!!!

Stevens: I don?t think anyone?s gonna take you up on that offer, Bobby...

Riley: ...You sick freak... just watch the match...

As CIA pulls Johnny to his feet, Dangerous springs back to life momentarily, and CIA gets smashed with a spinning back fist punch to the gut that throws him back! This allows Dangerous to grab CIA?s arm, and with a tug, whip him to the ropes! CIA goes flying across to them, hitting them and bouncing back at Johnny. whip, As CIA rebounds, though, he jumps at Dangerous, knocking him down with a quick forearm smash! Dangerous and CIA both hit the mat as Craven attempts to get to his feet behind them.

Stevens: An exciting match so far between these three men-

Riley: Exciting my ass. I want to see more head-dropping and ass-kicking!!! Not this lame shit!!!

As CIA gets to his feet, he notes the dazed state of Johnny Dangerous. CIA rises to his feet, and after he recovers, does a bit of silly dancing, pulling out such classics as ?The Sprinkler? and ?The Robot?, before he tips his arm and head back, as if guzzling an imaginary bottle of beer. Finally, as Dangerous staggers forward, CIA swings his elbow down on the forehead of Dangerous with a bionic elbow! Johnny drops to the ground clutching his head, and CIA figures now would be a good time to drop down on top of him, covering him for the pin as the crowd pops for the move!

One!!

Two!!

Dangerous gets the shoulder up! The crowd pops for the fact that Johnny is still in it, but as CIA gets to his feet, he wraps his arms around the lying Dangerous from behind in a waistlock, the Carnie lifting Dangerous off the mat as he drops back and releases Dangerous, the Vegas native through the air thanks to a release german suplex!!!

Riley: Whoa!!! Awesome suplex from CIA!

?THUD!!!? The crowd gasps in shock as Dangerous lands on his neck and the back of his head! CIA gets to his feet, instead confronted with the imposing figure of The Nightmare, Michael Craven.

Craven makes his presence known, immediately nailing CIA with a hard right to the temple! CIA goes down, dropping to the mat. He slowly rises to his feet, where Craven fires off three rapid right hands and whips CIA to the ropes. CIA hits them and comes off them hard into Craven?s waiting arms as he lifts CIA up in the air as if for a back drop, but instead of tossing him over, pushes him up in the air when CIA is horizontal and forcing him to hit the mat hard on his chest and face with a huge flap jack!!! CIA bounces off the mat from the sheer recoil of the move, flipping onto his back and allowing Craven to cover him for a pinfall attempt!

One!!!

Two!!!

...Shoulder up from CIA at two and a half! Craven drops right back down, trying to cover CIA again...

One!!!

Two!!!

Abrupt kickout by CIA at two! Craven can?t believe it as he gets to his feet, grabbing hold of CIA and pulling him to his feet.

Stevens: Only a two-count after a monstrous flap jack by Michael Craven!!!

Riley: Hmmmm... looks like Craven?s softening CIA up... perhaps for a crossface... wouldn?t mind to see that little Carnie bitch tap...

As Craven gets to his feet with CIA, he The crowd boos, and he smiles, running to the ropes and leaping onto the middle one. As he leaps off, he flips slightily as he turns to face CIA, setting CIA up for a springboard flipping neckbreaker!!!

Riley: Wow, what a pretty move-

It looks pretty, until CIA bows his head down, Craven flipping over CIA and onto his feet. He lands on them, but the seconds he does, CIA stands up, hooking Craven?s arms, and falling to his knees, pulls Craven down across his back and onto his shoulders for a backslide pin counter!!!

Stevens: BACKSLIDE PIN!!! HERE?S THE COUNT!!!

Riley: NO!! NO!!! KICKOUT, CRAVEN!!!

One!!!



Two!!!


TH-NO!!!!!! CRAVEN BREAKS OUT OF THE HOLD!! Craven falls over CIA, but the Canuck cannot believe his luck at this point as the crowd sighs in despair. CIA is on his knees now, but does not look happy about the ref?s counting.

Riley: Excellent counting by the ref!

Stevens: If that had been Craven, you would have said it was a slow count!

Riley: And what do you think? You think it?s a slow count if CIA doesn?t get an automatic three count?

Stevens opens his mouth to speak, but Riley cuts him off.

Riley: Don?t answer it. I?ve had enough of your lame-ass excuses anyways.

Both men at this point are getting to their feet, starting to show signs of exhaustion as the crowd cheers for CIA. Craven, though, silences them shortly, grabbing hold of CIA as he gets to his feet and slowly whipping him to the ropes. On the rebound, Craven charges forward, making his mark as he attempts a clothesline, but CIA ducks. Craven turns around as CIA hits the ropes, flying back at Craven. Upon rebounding, he leaps into the air, thrusting his legs out and catching Craven in the chin with a swift front dropkick!

Stevens: Well executed dropkick-

Until Craven jumps back, causing CIA to flip through the air and land hard on his chest, missing the dropkick all together!

Riley: Ha-ha!!! He can?t even hit a dropkick properly!!! Send him back to the JL, where he belongs!

As CIA lands on the mat, Craven drops an elbow into CIA?s back, and quickly, he grapevines one of CIA?s arms with his legs, locks his hands across CIA?s face, and pulls back, locking in-

Stevens: CROSSFACE!!! CROSSFACE ON CIA!!!

CIA cries in pain as Craven locks in the hold, but calming himself down, he brings his free arm over to Craven?s face and grabs hold, digging his fingernails into it and raking Craven?s eyes and face! Craven releases the hold instantly, grabbing his face and rolling onto his back to recover for a second. Following this, both men slowly rise to their feet, but as they do, Cravene swings his clenched right fist around, the fist homing in on CIA?s left jaw, but the Canuck ducks! Craven spins around as a result, but CIA grabs him by the back, lifting Craven onto his shoulder before he attempts a backdrop...



But Craven smashes him in the back with a forearm, forcing him to the mat! The two men hit hard, CIA landing on his chest. Once there, Craven grapevines the arm with his legs again, locks his hands across CIA?s face, and pulls back one more time, locking in another-

Stevens: CROSSFACE AGAIN ON CIA!!!

CIA?s arm flies out, reaching for the ropes half a second after the hold is locked in and Craven pulls back, but he?s too far from the ropes. However, his feet are free, allowing him to move himself towards the ropes. With great difficulty, he digs a foot into the mat and pushes himself a bit forward, repeating the process several times over, each time slower and slower as the apin increases for each second the crossface is held in. His hand still reaches out, fingers dangling in the air, trying to reach for the ropes that seem to be too far away. He keeps going, though, crawling closer and closer, desperately dangling his hand out for a second or two before he reaches out and finally grabs the ropes! The ref notes this, immediately calling for a rope break, which stirs up a cheer from the crowd!

Stevens: And a rope break forces a release of the hold by Craven, who looks quite displeased.

Riley: I?d be, too, If I got screwed like that...

Craven angrily pulls CIA onto his feet, clutching his writst as he whips him to the ropes, but CIA desperately reveses it, and as Craven is whipped to the ropes, CIA drives his knee into Craven?s midsection! Craven stops in his tracks, starting to feel the pain as CIA quickly forces him downwards, bringing his knee up and driving it into Michael?s midsection sharply again. Craven cries out in pain for the few knee strikes CIA throws, and as CIA lets up, he locks in a front facelock, dropping back as he nails Craven with an important DDT!!!

Stevens: DDT FROM CIA!!! The momenutm in this match has just shifted!!!

Riley: Not for the better, though...

Both men lie down on the mat, but as they do, the crowd starts a chant as they try to get back up:

Crowd: C-I-A!!! C-I-A!!!

Stevens: The crowd behind the Canuck, who is slowly getting to his feet...

Slowly, with caution, CIA gets back onto his feet, getting a mixed bag of reactions from the crowd before he diverts his attention to Craven. Craven is bent over, recovering from the last move he took, as CIA charges from behind and applies a side headlock on Craven, running for a short dirance before he drops Mike down on his face.

Stevens: Bulldog from CIA-

Or so it should have happened. Instead, Craven, for one reason or another, lands hard on the side of his head and his left shoulder, immediately clutchiing it as he hits the mat, in some form of pain. The ref quickly rushes to Craven?s aid as CIA gets to his feet, Craven signaling he?s able to go on.

Stevens: Did he just land on his shoulder? He might be hurt...

Riley: Not good... not good at all... I put money on Craven that he?d win...

Stevens: ...You put money on Craven?

Riley: $50... what? you got a problem with that?

As CIA gets to his feet, he is confronted by Dangerous. Fending him off with two hard right jabs, CIA clutches Dangerous by the wrist, and with a quick step back and a tug, Johnny Dangerous is sent flying towards the ropes opposite CIA, bouncing off them and flying back at CIA. He is ready, though, and as Dangerous rebounds, he ducks down, collecting Dangerous across his chest. Spinning around quickly, he drops to the mat, slamming Dangerous to the mat as he hits a powerslam close to the ropes! Following the slam, Dangerous cries out and grabs his back in pain as CIA slowly recovers, staggering up onto his feet as CIA pushes off his knees and onto his, making some sort of signal that sends the Carnie fans in Vegas into a frenzy!!!

Riley: He?s signaling for something!!!

Stevens: But what is it?

Riley: The hell if I know!!!

Stevens: Oh, big help, Bobby. Thanks a lot.

Riley: Anytime, ?buddy?!

As Dangerous gets to his feet, we see CIA slide behind him and hook his arms in a full nelson! The Carnie fans in the crowd pop, knowing that next up is-

Stevens: CIA GOING FOR THE VIA RAIL!!!

As he prepares to hit the move, though, Michael Craven sneaks up from behind, and with great force, drives a hard closed fist into CIA?s groin!

Stevens: OH MY GOD!!!! NOT AGAIN!!!

Riley: It?s deja vu!!! Woo-hoo!!!

The crowd boos loudly as Craven steps behind the falling CIA, hooking his arms. He lifts CIA into the air before forcing him down onto his chest with a ring-rattling full nelson front slam called the Red Fusion!

Stevens: Dear Lord, what a move from Craven!

CIA lays out on the mat, crying in pain, squirming about from the move as Craven stands tall over him... having to endure another round of ?CRAVEN SUCKS!? chants as Dangerous turns around, unaware of what went on behind him at the moment. Craven smiles, stepping forward as he prepares to grab Johnny. Johnny turns, though, swinging at Craven, but Craven grabs him by the arm, and with a quick tug, Irish whips him into the corner! Dangerous hits it chest first, staggering back out instantly from just the force of the whip and the impact in the corner as Craven draws his arm back like a shortstop scopping up a grounder and throwing it to first, before he draws his hand close to his head and drives his forearm into the head of Dangerous with amazing force! Dangerous is slammed hard down onto the mat, grabbing his head as Craven stands tall, the crowd booing him profusely.

Stevens: WHAT A FOREARM SMASH!!!

Riley: THAT?S WHAT I WANNA SEE!!! I wanna see people get hurt! None of this little WWE pussy loser style! More pain equals more gain! Ratings, that is...

Stevens: Bobby, one thing can sum you up: you?ve seen too much ECW. That?s all I have to say.

Riley: You?re right... (trying to start a chant) E-C-DUB! E-C-DUB!!! E-C-DUB!!!

Stevens: I should have never said anything...

As he grabs Johnny and pulls him to his feet, Craven grabs him for a scoop slam, but lifts him onto his shoulders. However, Mike positions Dangerous so his head is on Mike?s left shoulder instead of his right. As the crowd begins to boo, he winds up, twisting his body clockwise as far as it can go. Then, he uncoils and launches Johnny into the move, rotating him around like Brock Lesnar, but Johnny follows the same path as the F5 across Mike?s back, spinning 270 degrees. Craven then grabs him around the head and drops down, slamming his head onto Craven?s right shoulder!!!!!

Stevens: WHAT IN THE BLUE HELL?!?!

Riley: F5 STUNNER!!! F5 STUNNER!!!

Stevens: F5 STUNNER?!?!

Riley: I guess that?s what?s I?d call it!!!

Craven releases Dangerous to a chorus of boos, the Super Spy bouncing away as if it were a normal stunner, but the bounce is higher, more accelerated, and harder as he flips onto his back. Dangerous lies there, hie eyes shut as Craven turns around, crawling on top of Johnny Dangerous as the ref drops to his knees, raising his arm into the air...

Stevens: This can?t be happening...

Riley: YES!!! YES!!!

One...


Two...







THREE!!!!

DING DING DING!!!

Funyon: Your winner, by pinfall... MICHAEL CRAAAA-VENNNN!!!

Riley: WOO-HOO!!! TIME TO RAKE IN THE DOUGH!!! SHOW ME THE MONEY!!!

Craven immediately releases the the pin, pushing off Dangerous?s chest with his hand as he gets up, hand raised in victory while the crowd boos loudly. He clutches his left shoulder in obvious pain.

Stevens: A powerful victory for Craven over Johnny Dangerous-

As Craven stands, triumphant, arms raised in the air, he plants a foot into the chest of Johnny, standing on top of him as the crowd goes insane, booing Craven loudly and attempting to throw various objects at him. He only keeps the left arm up for a second, though, as he clutches it again, EMTs rushing down to check on all three men.

Stevens: What the-

Riley: That, my goody two-shoes little friend is how you celebrate a hard-earned victory!!!

Stevens: By embarassing a man in front of his hometown fans? I think not!

Riley: Ya know, I could sit here and argue with you all day, but *gasp*, we have to take a quick commercial break. However, stay tuned, because there's more SWF action, coming up... whenever the hell we feel like it.
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+Quote Post
Guest_TheBostonStrangler_*
post Mar 6 2003, 02:38 PM
Post #8





Guests






The scene fades in from black with Ben Hardy standing dwarfed by the side of the Velvet Hammer, the ICTV and Tag Champion Frost. Frost is wearing a referee’s shirt one size too small to showcase his bulging biceps. He stands with his arms folded across his chest while Hardy does his best to smile for the cameras, even though he’s in fear of being put through the wall with the SWF Lockdown banner hanging behind them.

“Welcome back to the March 5th edition of the SWF’s hottest new show, Lockdown! I’m Ben Hardy and with me is the man who is moments away from serving as the special guest referee for the upcoming U.S. Title match between Danny Williams and Ejiro Fasaki, Frost.” Hardy looks up to acknowledge Frost, who merely scowls down at the cowardly announcer. He gulps and continues, “The Suicide King seems to really have it in for the Magnificent 7 here tonight, putting the individual members between each other with both you and Tom Flesher right in the middle of it all.”

Frost unfolds his arms and puts his hands on his hips. He leans slightly forward to speak into the microphone. “I know from first hand experience that the commissioner, the Suicide King, likes to screw with anyone and everyone for his own sick pleasure. If this federation isn’t mired in chaos with him pulling the strings, he’s not happy. He can play all the games he wants from the outside, because the Mag 7 own this federation from the inside.” Frost points at the camera and sweeps his hand around to mark everything in his sight as his territory.

Hardy pulls the mic back to his lips and steels himself before asking his next question. “You might rightly have this all pegged as just a power play by the commissioner, but you can’t deny the past animosity you’ve had with Williams nor the fact that you will most likely be facing Ejiro and Judge Mental at From the Fire to defend the SWF Tag Team Titles. There has to be some tension hanging in the air tonight?”

Frost narrows his eyes at Hardy and swipes the mic out of his hand. Ben jumps back petrified. “As far as I am concerned, Danny Williams and I are all squared. He prevented me from winning the SJL World Title; I kept him winning the ICTV belt that I still hold today. If he still holds a grudge, if he wants to uneven it between us that’s all his decision. I know what a pigheaded son of a bitch he can be, so we’ll have to see. Now, for Ejiro,” Frost points a finger dead in the camera and it zooms in tight “I own you rookie. Never forget that. Hooking up with the Mag 7, teaming with Judge Mental, trying to leapfrog you’re way up this federation. That isn’t going to get it done. The only thing that will do it is to prove it. You go into that ring tonight and prove it against Danny Williams and that’s one step.” Frost holds up his index finger. “However, don’t think that will help you one damn bit in taking the Tag Team Title belts at From the Hire, because that won’t happen until hell freezes over. We all have to learn our places and fulfill our roles. Tonight, my first role is to call this title match right down the middle.”

"And you'd better do just that," calls a voice from off camera as into frame steps the aformentioned Ejiro Fasaki.

The Velvet Hammer turns on a dime and immediately gives Fasaki a look of utter contempt, "Boy, you better not get in my face or I'll jam you right in the... nah you're too small to get jammed in the hurt locker. Maybe the hurt minifridge. You sure of hell haven't earned the right to be saying something like that to me."

"Don't even pretend to tell me what I've earned," grates the incensed voice of Ejiro, "And don't come out here and tell everyone I've somehow lucked into my spot either. I've earned my place in this world with my own two hands time and time again. So don't forget Frost... you guys came to me because you knew what I would do to win at any cost. Don't cry now just because you and Tom can't seem to get the job done and finally beat El Luchadore Magni..."

Suddenly a massive hand darts out from the body of The Velvet Hammer and wraps around the gullet of Fasaki. Gasping for breath, Fasaki dangles in the grasp of Frost for a moment or two before the mighty Islander sends him stumbling into the side of a locker room stall. He hits it with a slight clang, not enough to hurt, just enough to tell him to mind his place. And as Ben Hardy steps up to perhaps get another comment Frost spikes the microphone down and stalks off. Ben Hardy slashes his finger across his throat and the camera fades with Fasaki staring after Frost with a mix of anger and bewilderment.
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+Quote Post
Guest_TheBostonStrangler_*
post Mar 6 2003, 02:39 PM
Post #9





Guests






Frost wants to kill your mamma!
Frost wants to kill your mamma!
Frost wants to burn your dad!
He gets real mean when you make him made!

Funyon: The following bout is scheduled for one fall and is for the United States Title! Introducing first, this contest’s special guest referee......THE ICTV CHAMPION.........FROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOST!!!

With a slow and purposeful stride, Frost lumbers his way out of the locker room and out on to the platform. The ICTV Champion is sporting a striped official shirt that is so stretched out over his massive frame, it looks like it could pop a stitch at any moment. The fans shout taunts and obscenities as he passes by, that is until they start to gag on the second hand smoke of his Santa Clara 1830.

Riley: Now that’s one ref, you don’t want to bump!

Stevens: I hear that, Riley. Fans, welcome back to SWF Lockdown! In just a few short moments, for reasons unknown, we will bare witness to a United States Title match between defending champion, Danny Williams, and the challenger, his fellow M7 stablemate, Ejiro Fasaki. And if that isn’t strange enough, Frost will be the special guest official.

Riley: For reasons unknown! Didn’t you pay attention to Frost’s promo? The King has decided that M7 is getting too big for their britches, so in typical evil genius fashion, he’s gonna play them against each other until M7 destroys itself from the inside out.

Stevens: Yes, tonight’s match does have the potential to end in a complete meltdown of the stable.

Riley: Let’s just hope that it remains potential, and doesn’t become a reality. Frost said he’ll call it down the middle, and I for one, believe him.

Stevens: Frost does have a number contenders match with TNT later tonight, he doesn’t need any added pressure.

Suddenly, the heavy feed back of Biohazard’s “Sellout” rattles the arena to it’s foundation.

Funyon: And now, the challenger, weighing in at 188 pounds, and hailing from Sarasota, Florida
......EJIRO FASKAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!

Anxious to get the title match underway, Ejiro eagerly jogs down the aisle, sliding into the ring to a few jeers from the fans. Ejiro hops up on the middle rope, extending an arm to the heavens, while volcanic flames shoot out of the ring posts! Once the light show ends, Ejiro jumps down, and starts bouncing around the ring, working up a sweat. Frost pops his knuckles a few times, his eyes locked on the entrance ramp, awaiting the arrival of the champion.

Stevens: As Frost would put it, Ejiro is looking to leap frog his way to the top of the federation.

Riley: Yeah, patience is a virtue and Ejiro needs to learn it. You can’t just watz into the fed, and expect to be at the top of the card, it takes tons upon tons of hard work. To attempt such a high jump up the card so soon is a slap in the face to guys like Tom and Frost who’s struggled and fought for months in order to get where there at.

Stevens: Well, I wouldn’t say that he just walked into the tag title match. Him and Mental fought hard for it, winning a tough match over Mak Francis and CIA last week. Besides, Danny Williams is the person he’s looking to prove himself against, tonight.

The gentle melodies of In Flame’’s ““Jester’s Dance”” echoes through the arena, triggering a chorus of ““boos””. Williams pushes his way through the heavy curtains draping from the locker room entrance, and slowly makes his way out to the platform. With the object of their hatred now in clear sight, the fans taunts become even louder. Williams lets the negative reaction bounce right off of him, and slowly makes his way down to the ring like he has all the time in the world.

Funyon: Making his way down the aisle, weighing in at 238 pounds, and hailing from Louisville, Kentucky......................YOUR UNITED STATES CHAMPION.......DANNY WILLIAMSsssssssssssssssssssssss!!!

Stevens: For the third week in a roll, Williams is looking to defend his spot in the company, but tonight it’s more than just the spot in his company. Williams is defending his place in M7 against Ejiro.

Riley: Yes, this is a bit of test to see if Ejiro is ready to hang with the big boys. Williams has got to be wearing thin, after two straight grueling matches with faster, younger, juniors.

Once inside the ring, Williams removes his belt, and hands it over to Frost. Frost raises the prestigious title over his head, gaining a rather mediate pop from the crowd. Now that both men are in their corners, Frost wastes no time in signaling for the bell!

DING! DING! DING!

Stevens: We are underway! Will we see a clean respectful match, or will the tension between these men be too much?

You can hear a pin drop as Williams and Ejiro emerge from their corners, turn a circle, and clash together in a collar elbow tie up! Neither man gains the advantage, until Ejiro sends Williams to the mat with a lighting quick Armdrag! Williams pops right back, running right into another Armdrag, this time Ejiro keeps him grounded with a painful Armbar! Williams rolls away from the pressure, making his way back to a vertical base, but Ejiro sends him to the mat with a slick Fireman’s Carry. Finding himself right back where he started, a snarling Williams turns away from the pressure, and fights his way right back to his feet. Just as before, Ejiro immediately takes Williams over with another Fireman’s Carry.

Stevens: Thus far, Ejiro is doing an excellent job of keeping the United States Champion right where he wants him, on the mat!

Riley: Ejiro isn’t stupid, he knows there’s no way he can take Williams on toe to toe. So he’s gonna try to force Williams to beat him on the mat, where he stands a much better chance of pulling off a victory.

Stevens: Which is exactly what Francis did, in his victory over Williams a few weeks back. He lured Williams into a technical match, where he was able to his use more extensive amateur background to stay one counter ahead of the champion, allowing him to pull him off the upset.

Frustration beginning to show on his face, Williams shamelessly reaches up behind Ejiro’s head and grabs a handful of his hair. Using the hair as leverage, Williams pulls himself up. Ejiro looks for the Fireman Carry again, but Williams keeps a death grip on his hair, preventing him from performing the takeover.

The fans show their disapproval with a long, “Booooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!”.

Without saying a word, Frost smacks Williams’ hand off drawing the first real pop of the match. Williams stares a hole through Frost, who returns the favor with an even scarier stare. Taking advantage of the situation, Ejiro takes his distracted opponent down with yet another Fireman’s Carry.

Riley: What the hell does Frost think he’s doing?

Stevens: His job, Riley. It looks like Frost is gonna do more than call it down the middle, he’s gonna play this thing by the book.

Riley: I hope he knows what he’s doing. I’d hate to see M7 implode on national television, because of an old grudge.

His left arm starting to become numb from the Armbar, Williams pounds his free fist into the mat, and shouts “Dammit!” Left with no other option, Williams scoots his way to the bottom rope, eagerly wrapping his free arm around it. “BREAK!” growls the monstrous official. Ejiro releases the hold, allows Williams to sit up, and than slams a stiff Roundhouse Kick into his arm!

Smack!

Tucking his abused limb into his chest, Williams cries out in pain.

“HEY, NO HITTING ON THE ROPES!” barks Frost.

Ignoring the Icelander’s warning, Ejiro draws back his boot for another kick, but finds himself tied up by the wide arms of Frost. Ejiro kicks and screams like a scolded child, as Frost drags him off Williams, and muscles him into a neutral corner. With his arms crossed, Frost stands in front of Ejiro shouting a warning at him, while Williams paces around, shaking his arm out. The fans don’t take to kindly to Frost’s actions this time, setting off a chain of “boos”.

Riley: Ah come on, who the hell enforces that rule!

Stevens: I guess Frost does.

Riley: I got a bad feeling about this, Stevens. I know Frost wants to show Ejiro who’s the top dog and who’s the rookie, but that can wait for From the Fire.

After chastising Ejiro, Frost lets him out of the corner, and signals for the match to continue. Ejiro gives Frost a dirty look, before turning his attention back to the champion. Williams and Ejiro circle each other a few times, and than lunge at each other with out stretched arms, colliding together in another grapple! Ejiro takes the advantage, twisting Williams’ arm into a wristlock! Not giving Ejiro the opportunity to work the hold, Williams shoves him into the ropes, and shoots him off! But Ejiro hangs on to Williams’ arm, reversing the Irishwhip! Instead of releasing Williams’ arm to let him speed across the ring, Ejiro hangs on to the wristlock, damn near jerking the champion’s arm out of the socket! Impressed with Ejiro’s determination, the fans actually give a small applause.

Riley: Wow, Ejiro is hanging on to that arm like his life depends on it!

Stevens: Considering that he’s almost always outmatched, Ejiro compensates for it by picking out a body part, and working it over without mercy.

In full control of the match, Ejiro rotates his body into a 360 spin, giving Williams a painful Arm Wringer! The sudden surge of burning pain in his arm and shoulder, is enough to drop Williams to a single knee, but not for long. Williams returns to his feet, and with his free hand, slashes Ejiro’s exposed chest with a blistering Knife Edge Chop!

Smack!

Riley: Damn, that must of hurt!

Stevens: Those chops have to be heard to be appreciated!

His eyes wide with pain, his veins bulging out of his neck, Ejiro sucks up the stinging pain in his chest, refusing to surrender the wristlock. Williams draws back his hand, and slices Ejiro with an even harder chop!

Smack!

This one breaks the wristlock, stunning the now red chested challenger!

Smack! Boom!

Williams floors Ejiro with another brutal chop, sending a sweat cloud flying into the air! Williams shakes out his left arm a little, pulls Ejiro up by his arm, and jerks him into a short arm chop....

Smack! Boom!

Keeping a hold of Ejiro’s arm, Williams forces him up, and pulls him into another short arm chop....

Swooooosh!

Ejiro ducks, spins beside Williams, and sends him to the mat with an Armbar Takedown! Ejiro smoothly transitions into a Fujiwara Armbar, causing Williams to scream in anguish!

Stevens: And back to the arm, Ejiro goes!

Trying his best to keep his cool, Williams powers his way back to his feet, forcing Ejiro to adjust the Fujiwara Armbar into a normal Armbar. In an amazing display of power, Williams suddenly sends Ejiro soaring through the air, with a powerful Hiptoss!

Boom!

Ejiro lands hard on his back, but pops right back, charging Williams like a deranged madman! Williams is caught with his guard down, allowing Ejiro to unload a flurry of Roundhouse Kicks on his left arm!

Smack! Smack! Smack!

Before Williams can launch a counter attack, Ejiro snatches his arm, and straightens it out into an Armbar!

Riley: He just doesn’t know when to quit, he’s got a plan and he’s sticking with it, no matter how much punishment he takes in the process.

Stevens: Ejiro knows that Williams’ arm is weakening with every second that he spends in that Armbar. The weaker his arm is, the more vulnerable he is for the Cobra Crossface, or any arm submission for that matter.

Growing more irritated by the second, Williams hooks an arm between Ejiro’s leg and with a grunt, Scoop Slams him off his arm!

Boom!

Now that Ejiro is out of the way, Williams clutches his sore arm, wiggling his fingers in order to get the blood circulating again. To Danny’s surprise, Ejiro is up in a flash, catching him off guard with a series of Roundhouse Kicks to the arm!

Smack! Smack! Smack!

You guessed it, Ejiro goes right back to the Armbar. Some members of the audience whistle, and somebody tries to get an “E-JIR-O!” chant started up, but it doesn’t catch on. Snarling like a growling dog, Williams scoops Ejiro back up, and slams him to the mat in brutal fashion!

Boom!

Expecting Ejiro to pop up again, Williams punts him in the back to make sure he stays down!

Smack!

The audience responds to the stiff kick with a long, “ooooooooooooooooh!”. Ejiro spasms around on the mat, arching his back, like his spine has been severed.

Riley: That should keep him down!

Stevens: You aren’t kidding, Williams really has grown fond of those punt kicks as of late.

Since the challenger won’t be up any time soon, Williams grips the ropes with his bad arm, and stretches it out a little, before going back to work. Ejiro starts to climb to his feet, only to find himself tied up in a Front Facelock. Williams drapes Ejiro’s inside arm over his shoulder, grabs a handful of tights, and hoists him up......

Riley: Vertical Suplex, coming up!

Just as Williams is preparing to bring him down, Ejiro suavely floats out of it, landing on his feet as safely as a cat would! Not waiting for Williams to turn around, Ejiro twists the champion’s left arm behind his back into a chickenwing, and brings his right arm around his throat for a facelock!

Stevens: NO! Ejiro going for the Crossface Chickenwing!

Riley: A move that Williams made famous back in his JL days!

Stevens: Yes, I remember. Danny actually made the Reaper tap to it, in a time when making him submit was a big deal!

Thinking fast, Williams brings his right hand up, clutching Ejiro’s wrist, pushing his arm back in order to block the Crossface! Dripping sweat and trembling from strain, Ejiro struggles to pull his arm down around Williams’ face, but it’s no use! Knowing he’s fighting a losing battle, Ejiro releases Williams from the Crossface Chickenwing, who in turn, spins around, and clocks the challenger with a stiff Elbow Smash!

CRACK!

Riley: That hurt!

Ejiro goes down hard, but he manages to back roll to his feet. The fans jump out of their seats as Ejiro rushes Williams, popping him with three quick Elbow Smashes of his own!

Crack! Crack! Crack!

Stevens: EJIRO IS UP! Overcoming Williams’ power advantage with raw determination!

But Williams just shrugs the elbows off, and lays Ejiro out with another brain rattling Elbow Smash!

CRACK!

Riley: What the hell is Ejiro thinking? You can’t trade elbows with the master!

Moving much more sluggish than last time, Ejiro slowly staggers to his feet, allowing Williams to grab him by his hair and tights as he gets up. Williams runs Ejiro across the ring, and sends him flying through the ropes, and out of the ring!

“Boooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!”

Riley: The fans may not like it, but that’s a smart move on Williams’ part.

Stevens: Yes, it breaks up Ejiro’s momentum, while giving Williams some time to recover.

Williams doesn’t have time to bask in the fans jeers however, as Ejiro slides back into the ring as quickly as he left it!

Stevens: Or maybe not!

Before Williams can react, Ejiro drives him back into a corner with a flurry of Elbow Strikes! The sight of Williams getting his ass handed to him by a guy half his size, sends the fans into a riotous applause!

Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!

Stevens: EJIRO, GOING TO WORK ON THE CHAMPION!

Riley: How the hell can Ejiro keep going like that?

Stevens: He’s hungry, Riley! He wants to prove to Frost and the world, that he’s not just some punk ass rookie looking to leap frog his way to the top! He wants to fight his way there!

Ejiro grabs Williams’ arm, and whips the stunned champion out of the corner! But Williams hangs on to his arm, pulling Ejiro into a hard Short Arm Back Elbow Smash! The elbow plunges deep into Ejiro’s chest, knocking him back into the corner! Williams pops his head a few times in Rain Manesque fashion, and than lunges into the cornered challenger with a face crushing Back Elbow!

CRACK!

Riley: Now that’s how a man throws an elbow!

Stevens: Williams has spent the past year, perfecting those Elbow Smashes! Ejiro may have a lot of heart, but even that isn’t enough to make up for the experience difference between the two.

The repulsed fans “oh” as Ejiro slides down the turnbuckles, clutching his crushed nose. Showing no mercy, Williams presses the attack, slamming knees into the face of his defenseless opponent! Frost steps in, ordering Williams to cease the attack. To Frost’s surprise, Williams stops throwing knees, only to drive his boot into Ejiro’s throat, choking him out with it! The fans jump out of their seats in protest, demanding that Frost do something! Playing it by the book, Frost starts a count, and with a hint of sarcasm, Williams counts along with him,”One! Two! Three!” Williams draws back his boot, allowing his purple faced opponent to roll out of the ring. Williams hops out of the ring as well, yanking the gagging challenger up by his arm, launching him across the floor with an Irishwhip....

CLANK!

Ejiro crashes back first into the guardrail, giving the front roll fans a good scare! Williams confidently struts over to Ejiro, clutching his wrist, and sending him on the run with a another Irishwhip....

BOOM goes the ring steps as Ejiro collides into them with unnerving force!

Riley: He’s taking the rookie on a tour of the arena!

Stevens: Williams is making sure that Ejiro doesn’t come storming back in like last time. He wants some time to recover from Ejiro’s early offense, so he’s gonna create his time out.

Wearing a proud smile on his face, Williams snugly climbs back into the ring, leaving Ejiro curled up and bruised on the floor. Unlike most officials in championship bouts, Frost eagerly starts the count out.....

“One!”


“Two!”

Wearing a painful expression on his face, Williams starts rotating his left arm in various directions, while Frost continues the count...

“Three!”


“Four!”

Riley: Williams has taking the high ground, Stevens. All he has to do is keep Ejiro out of the ring for ten seconds, and he can walk away with a fairly easy victory.

“Five!”

Not wanting the match to end like this, the fans began encouraging Ejiro to continue by chanting his name in unison.

“Six!”


“Seven!”

The chant picks up in intensity as Ejiro starts to show some signs of life.

“Eight!”

Stevens: The fans are actually getting behind the underdog! I never thought I’d hear the fans chanting that name.

Ejiro wearily stands up, rubbing his sore back to a big ovation. Williams rolls his eyes, and quickly scales the turnbuckles, balancing himself on the top rope just above Ejiro! Williams pauses for a second as if he is having second thoughts, but than he just closes his eyes, holds his breath, and leaps head first off the top turnbuckle! Flash photography illuminates the arena as Williams sky dives down at Ejiro like a human missile! Ejiro is helplessly frozen like a deer caught in car headlights, as Williams soars down on him!

CRACK!

Stevens: DIVING ELBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW!

Williams drives his Elbow into Ejiro’s face as he crash lands on the hard floor! The impact knocks Ejiro off his feet, sending him back flipping high into the air!

Thump!

The crowd gasps at the grisly sight of Ejiro landing neck first on the floor, with his legs folded over his head! The beer fueled fans, start pumping their fists into the air, while chanting, “HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!”

Riley: OH MY GOD! DID YOU SEE HOW EJIRO LANDED?

Williams slowly climbs to his feet, takes a few seconds to shake the cobwebs loose, before pulling Ejiro’s limp carcass up just enough so that he can roll it in the ring.

Stevens: Williams feels that he’s ready to put a run together and go for the win, so he’s bringing Ejiro back in the ring.

Williams slides in as well, promptly covering Ejiro for the pin. The fans slide on to the edge of their seats as Frost hits the deck, and starts the count.


ONE!









TWO!











TWO1/2....









TWO3/4...











THREE!




NO! Ejiro shoots a shoulder up, just as Frost brings his hand down! Williams turns to Frost for a decision, finding two fingers being held up in his face. Williams remains cool, calmly taking position near the ropes on the far side of the ring. Holding his jaw like he’s scared it’s gonna fall off, Ejiro staggers to his feet in a drunken daze.

Riley: Williams is sizing Ejiro up for something big!

Williams leans deep into the ropes, launching himself off them like a bat out of hell! As he approaches the challenger, Williams extends his arm for the Lariat......

Stevens: HOOKING LAIRAT!

but Ejiro swiftly drops to the mat, tripping Williams up with a Drop Toe Hold! Moving with haste, Ejiro scrambles on to Williams’ back, and straddles his arm for the Wakigatame! His eyes lit up with pain, Williams screams at the top of his lungs, as his elbow threatens to hyper extend!

Stevens: WAKIGATAME!

Riley: IF WILLIAMS CAN’T MAKE THE ROPES, THIS MATCH IS OVER!

Ejiro riding him the whole way, Williams frantically claws his way to the ropes, managing to secure his free arm around them. Ejiro doesn’t care, he keeps the hold tightly applied, trying his damndest to break Williams’ arm! Trying to remain clam, Frost holds his massive hand in front of Ejiro’s face, and extends one finger, two fingers, three fingers!

“BREAK!” commands the Icelander!

Ejiro pays no mind, so Frost just grabs him by his hair, and pries him off Williams’ arm! Frost throws Ejiro on the mat, and slobbers down at him, “WHEN I SAY BREAK! YOU BREAK!”

Stevens: Ejiro didn’t want to leg go there. He was in a position to win, and he didn’t want to give it up.

Riley: Damn, that was stupid. Ejiro can do whatever the hell he wants at From the Fire, but for now he needs to get on his good side so he can take home the United States Title.

Williams rolls out of the ring, clutching his arm, which is involuntarily twitching like crazy. Showing no fear, Ejiro looks Frost right in the eye for a few seconds, than stands up and dusts himself off. Spotting Danny on the outside, Ejiro rolls out after him.

Stevens: Ejiro spent a great deal of time, working over Williams’ arm at the beginning of the match, and it looks like it’s finally payed off.

Riley: Williams’ arm looks pretty messed up, if he can lock on another submission like that Waka-whatever, the Champion may have no choice but to tap.

Ejiro grabs Williams by his injured arm, giving him no choice, but to climb up with him. Ejiro forces Williams back into the ring, and slides in after him. Ejiro finds Williams struggling to a vertical base, so he gives him a helping hand, only to be rewarded with a powerful Elbow Smash!

CRACK!

Ejiro starts to go down, but before he does, he instinctively fires off a Spinning Heel Kick, catching Williams right in the forehead!

SMACK!

Both men are down, and the fans give a standing ovation!

Riley: DOUBLE K.O.!

Stevens: WILLIAMS TRIED TO MOUNT A COMEBACK, BUT EJIRO SILENCED IT!

His eyes dilated and glazed over, Williams lifelessly lays on his back, blankly staring at nothing. Not a spring chicken himself, Ejiro groggily crawls over on top of Williams’ and hooks a leg for the pin.

Stevens: THIS MAY BE IT! IT’S ALL......


ONE!









TWO!








TWO1/2.....








NO! Williams kicks, but just barely!

Riley: NO! IT’S NOT ALL OVER! WILLIAMS IS STILL HANGING ON!

Ejiro wipes some sweat off his forehead, and catches Williams as he gets up with a front facelock. Bending Williams’ arm into a hammerlock, Ejiro lets out an emotional scream, and falls straight back!

Thump!

The shocked fans gasp as Williams lands on his knees with the top of his head planted directly into the mat!

Stevens: DEAR GOD, WHAT A DDT!

Riley: Williams’ neck could be broke!

Not wasting any time, Ejiro quickly steps over Williams’ shoulder, and reaches down for his arm so that he can apply a Mounted Step Over Armbar! The crowd roars with excitement, sensing the end could be near for Williams!

Stevens: HE’S GONNA TRY ANOTHER WAKIGATAME!

Riley: WILLIAMS CANNOT, I REPEAT, CANNOT LET EJIRO LOCK THIS ON!

Despite taking one hell of a sick DDT, Williams still has enough sense to tuck his injured arm into his chest, and links his hands together. Pouring sweat and Ejiro tugs and pulls, but despite his best effort, he can’t pull Williams’ fingers apart. Growling with frustration, Ejiro un-scissors Williams’ shoulder, and angrily drives his boot into his gut with soccer style kicks!

Smack! Smack! Smack!

Having let loose his frustration, Ejiro helps Williams to his feet, and sends him crashing into the turnbuckles of the nearest corner with an Irishwhip!

Thump!

As soon as Williams’ hits, Ejiro charges, murdering him with a lethal Jumping Knee, that leaves the champion a drooling zombie!

Riley: THE CHAMP HAS BEEN LOBOTOMIZED!

Ejiro leads Williams out of the corner by his arm, twists it into a wristlock! Williams doubles over in pain, allowing Ejiro to leap into the air, and brings a big Leg Drop across his arm, driving Williams’ shoulder and face into the mat!

Boom!

Stevens: FASAKI FUSER! FASAKI FUSAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!

The fans blow the roof off the building as Ejiro grapevines Williams’ right arm, and applies a Half Nelson!

Stevens: HE’S GOING FOR THE COBRA CROSSFACE!

Riley: THE CHAMPION IS IN BIG TROUBLE!

Looking to complete the Cobra Clutch, Ejiro reaches around Williams’ head to grab the wrist of the secured arm! But in a final act of desperation, Williams stretches his arm straight out to his side, keeping it out of Ejiro’s reach! Ejro stretches outside arm out as far as it can go, but he cannot reach Williams’ wrist.

Stevens: WILLIAMS WON’T LET HIM LOCK IT ON!

Riley: HE NEEDS TO GET THE ROPES, AND FAST!

Frustrated, Ejiro gives up on the Cobra Crossface, and floats in front of Williams. Moving swiftly, Ejiro hooks Williams’ right arm, and after some resistance manages to hook the left arm, linking his hands together.

Stevens: WHAT’S THIS....

With the Double Underhook, Ejiro pulls Williams to his feet, and steps over his head so that he has it scissored between his thighs! Still on their feet, the excited fans combust into screams and cheers!

Stevens: EJIROCATION! HE’S GOT WILLIAMS IN POSITION FOR THE EJIRACUTION!

Riley:

His face contorted with determination, Ejiro lets out an emotional cry, and lifts.....

Stevens: HE’S GOT HIM UP!

but Williams shifts his weight back down, replanting his boots on the mat! Without delay, Ejiro attempts another lift, but Williams sand bags to the disappointment of the fans.

Riley: NO! HE CAN’T HIT IT!

More determined than ever, Ejiro releases the Double Underhook, steps over Williams’ arm, scissoring his shoulder. Before Williams can realize what Ejiro is doing, the challenger rolls to the mat, pulling Williams down by his arm. The next the thing the champion knows, he’s in perfect position for a Cross Armbreaker! Ejiro sits up, and locks his hands around Williams’ thick wrist so he can pull it back to complete the submission hold!

Stevens: JUGI-GATAME! HE’S GONNA BEAT WILLIAMS WITH HIS OWN HOLD!

Riley: EJIRO IS JUST RELENTLESS IN HIS ATTACK! HE SMELLS BLOOD, AND HE’S MOVING IN FOR THE KILL!

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” screams Williams, who stubbornly locks his hands together, preventing Ejiro from his straightening his arm out! With the fans cheering him on, an exhausted Ejiro hopelessly strains to lock on the feared submission hold! The crowd is going absolutely crazy, people are jumping up and down in the aisles, praying for the end of Williams U.S. title reign. His hands threatening to separate at any time, Williams scoots his way towards the ropes, managing to get a leg underneath them!

“I’M ON THE ROPES FOR GOD’S SAKE!” pleads Williams, getting Frost’s attention. Finding that Williams is indeed under the ropes, Frost orders the break. Ejiro hesitates for a second, lets out a deep sigh, and releases Williams’ arm. The once hot crowd quiets down, most of them sit back down, even though they are far from relaxed.


Riley: Ejiro breaks the hold, this time. Maybe he’s maturing.

Stevens: Williams, surviving a series of close calls!

Riley: Ejiro threw everything he had at Williams, but he was able to avoid it all!

Back rolling to his feet, Ejiro transforms his sorrow into rage, laying a harsh kick into Williams’ ribs!

Smack!

“Watch the ropes, goddammit!” snarls Frost.

Ejiro gives Frost a nod, before guiding Williams to his feet. Ejiro leads Williams away from the ropes, bringing him to the center of the ring. Suddenly, Williams swats Ejiro’s hands off, creating an opening for a surprise Elbow Smash....

Crack!

Hurt and caught off guard, Ejiro staggers back a few steps, but flies back at Williams with a beautiful Spinning Heel Kick out of nowhere....

Riley: Not again!

but Williams gets his arms up, deflecting the kick, however the impact still blows him back into the ropes!

Stevens: WILLIAMS SAW IT COMING THIS TIME!

Realizing his mistake, Ejiro scrambles to his feet, eager to correct it!

SMACK!

Once Ejiro is up, Williams bullets off the ropes, decapitating him with an absolutely disgusting Hooking Lariat! Ejiro hits the mat so hard that the momentum carries him all the way over on to his knees, where he wobbles for a few seconds, before flopping face down. The awe struck crowd lets out a horrified gasp, while Frost cracks a brief half smile as if to let Williams know that his Lariat meets his approval.

Stevens: WHAT A LARIAT! He turned Ejiro, inside out with that one!

Riley: Even Frost was impressed by that one, which is one hell of an honor!

Williams drops to his knees, rolls Ejiro over, and hooks a leg for the pin.

Riley: IT’S OVER, STEVENS! EJIRO IS FINISHED!


ONE!









TWO!









TWO1/2....









TWO3/4....






THREE!




NO! Ejiro wiggles a shoulder up just before Frost can bring his large hand down, sparking some cheers from the hopeful in the audience! Williams smirks at Frost, while extending two fingers to let him know that he made the right call.

Stevens: COUNT OF TWO ONLY!

Riley: Ejiro has got be hanging on by a thread, I know he can take a lot of punishment, but that Lariat would have killed a lesser man.

Williams takes a deep breath, grabs a handful of Ejiro’s hair, and jerks him up! Suddenly, Ejiro frees himself from Williams’ graps, and fires a kick at his arm....

Stevens: Ejiro trying to go back to what brought him to the dance!

Sadly, the kick is sloppy and weak, not even drawing a flinch from Williams. The fans are now dead silent, realizing the unevitable.

Riley: It looks like it’s too little too late, Stevens.

Remaining completely emotionless, Williams takes one step back, leaps forward off one boot, and slams a High Kick into Ejiro’s forehead!

SMACK!

Riley: DYNAMIC KICK!

Ejiro wobbles like he’s going to go down, but Williams catches him, and quickly shoves him down in a standing head scissors! Williams locks his hands around Ejiro’s waist, and lifts the frail challenger over his head with ease!

KA-BOOM!

Stevens: DEATHBOMB! DEATHBOMB! DEATHBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMB!!!!!

Williams doubles over, slamming Ejiro into the mat with earth shaking force! Keeping his arms locked around Ejiro’s thighs, Williams leans deep on his tippy toes, folding Ejiro up for the pin!


ONE!









TWO!








TWO1/2....








TWO3/4....









THREE!





DING! DING! DING!

Williams raises off Ejiro, letting his legs snap back to their natural position. Frost shakes his Williams hand, congratulating him on a job well done, before raising his hand to make it official.

Funyon: The winner of the match by pinfall at 16 minutes at 43 seconds.......AND STILL UNITED STATES CHAMPION.......DANNY WILLIAMSsssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss!!!

Riley: ONCE AGAIN, DANNY WILLIAMS RETAINS!

Stevens: Ejiro brought a very focused attack, which is wise. However, Williams was able to adjust his defenses, preventing him from locking on a fatal submission hold. Ejiro was unable to make the offensive adjustment and he couldn’t keep the champion on the ropes!

Riley: What impresses me the most was how all three men were able to keep their cool, and focus on their jobs.

Stevens: Well there was a few tense moments, but nothing like I’m sure King was hoping for.

Riley: THE MAGNIFICENT SEVEN LIVES......until the PPV that is.

Stevens: Fans, we have to take a brief commercial break. But stay tuned, because there’s more exciting SWF action to come!
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+Quote Post
Guest_TheBostonStrangler_*
post Mar 6 2003, 02:41 PM
Post #10





Guests






TBS Edit: This needs to be inserted here. So check it out, yo.

"ALL ABOARD!! AH HAH HAH HAH!!"

The stage suddenly explodes as a wall of crimson pyro shoots skyward, deafening and blinding those closest. When the pyro finishes the wailing guitar chords of Ozzy Ozborne's "Crazy Train" pick up in volume and out from behind the curtain steps the Suicide King, dressed in a gray Armani suit. The King makes his way inside the ring and walks over to the corner near the timekeepers’ table, demanding that Funyon surrender his microphone “What’s the Suicide King doing out here,” wonders Mark Stevens. “He wasn’t scheduled to out here during this segment!”

“Whatever he wants to,” replies Bobby Riley. The King stands in the center of the ring with an evil grin on his face as he soaks in the jeers from the fans in the Thomas and Mack center. After a few seconds he motions for his music to be cut and lifts the microphone to his lips. “As much as I’d like to just stand out here and enjoy this quality time with my adoring public,” the Gambling Man pauses to give the crowd the chance to boo him, and they accommodate him with gusto. “There is some business that requires my immediate attention. So Wildchild, get your Caribbean ass out here right now!”

The crowd begins cheering as Smashing Pumpkins’ “The Everlasting Gaze” starts playing and Wildchild steps onto the stage dressed in baggy black sweat pants and a Sacramento Kings shooting jersey, posing briefly for the fans before walking down the ramp towards the ring. He somersaults into the ring between the bottom and middle rope and rolls to his feet, raising his arms in the air as the crowd list.

“Cut his music,” shouts the King. “That’s enough of that!” Suicide King turns to face the Bahama Bomber. “Alright, first things first; you’ve been a thorn in my side since the day you got here. I kept quiet while you were in the JL, but now that you’re on my show, I’m not going to have you pulling the same crap that you did down there. Nobody here wants to see you doing any of that acrobatic crap…” King again pauses as the crowd pops to disagree with him.

“So far, since you’ve been here, you’ve been able to avoid wrestling by hiding in tag matches. Well, you don’t have to worry about that anymore, because as of right now, the team of Wild and Dangerous is no more!” Suicide King pauses as the crowd erupts into a chorus of boos.

“He can’t be serious,” cries Stevens. “Wild and Dangerous had unlimited potential as a tag team!”

Wildchild stares out into the crowd as the King continues. “Furthermore, Johnny Dangerous is hereby suspended indefinitely!” The crowd’s jeering begins anew.

“What,” shrieks Stevens.

“Hit the road, Jack,” crows Riley. Suicide King stares at Wildchild with a smug expression on his face, waiting for him to respond. The Bahama Bomber walks towards the King and takes the microphone from him.

“You know what I’m t’inkin’,” he asks. “I’m t’inkin’ dat you broke up me an’ Johnny because you’re afraid dat we was gonna be betta den your two golden boys in de Mag Seven. An’ you know what else I’m t’inkin’? Dat you got a problem wit’ me because you hate de fact dat I can do t’ings in de ring dat you could never dream of…”

Before he could finish his thought, the King abruptly snatches the microphone away from him. “You listen to me, ‘Clown-boy!’ First of all, I didn’t have to do any of that crap. This isn’t the circus, kid; the sign out front says ‘wrestling.’

“Second of all, I’ve given you more chances than you deserve to get with the program. Since you seem to have some sort of learning disability, I’ve arranged for you to receive lessons private lessons.”

“Private lessons,” says a confused Mark Stevens. “What’s King going on about?”

The Gambling Man continues, “I have confidence that this tutor will be able to teach you the finer points of what being in the SWF is all about, and I’m sure that you’ll be that better man for it…”

Wildchild interrupts the King by snatching the microphone out of his hand. “You know what? I’m startin’ to get real sick of you (bleep) tryin’ t’tell me what to do, an’ how t’wressle! I don’ know why you wan’ t’change me, an’ I don’ care, but I’ll tell you what you can do wit’ your lessons!” With that, Wildchild drops the microphone and blasts the King in the face with a hard right hand, knocking him backwards.

“Wildchild’s attacking the commissioner,” shouts Riley. “Somebody do something!” Wildchild’s punches send him into the corner, where he mounts the second turnbuckle and proceeds to deliver a 10-count punch to the King. The crowd cheers and counts along with the Bahama Bomber as he hammers away at the King of Hearts.

ONE!


TWO!


THREE!


FOUR!


FIVE!


SIX!


“WAITAMINUTE,” shouts Stevens. The crowd also shrieks in fear as Jamie Drazon suddenly comes flying into the ring, seemingly from out of nowhere, and runs over to the corner, grabbing Wildchild from behind by the waist and suplexing him back into the ring.

“It’s Jay Dawg,” cries Stevens. “What’s he doing out here?”

“Well, Wildchild had it coming,” replies Riley. “He sealed his fate when he popped Drazon with that cheap shot backstage.” Jay Dawg kicks the fallen Wildchild relentlessly as the Suicide King steps out of the corner, re-adjusting his jacket and tie. Drazon pulls Wildchild to his feet and sends him to the ropes, whipping his foot around suddenly as he rebounds and nearly beheading him with a reverse Thai-style roundhouse kick.

“Jay Dawg’s annihilating Wildchild,” moans Stevens. “Somebody’s got to do something!”

“Like who,” asks Riley with a smirk. “Look at the King; this is obviously happening with his consent, and who’s going to defy the commissioner to help out some rookie? The only friend he had in the business just got suspended!”

Drazon pulls Wildchild back to his feet and applies a standing headscissors. “No,” pleads Stevens as he wraps Wildchild’s arms across his own throat, “don’t do it, Dawg!”

WHAM!

Jay Dawg jumps backwards and drives the tropical tumbler into the mat, crushing him with a devastating Crossarmed Pedigree!

“JD’s Revenge,” crows Riley. “That’ll teach him not to cross the boss!” Suicide King retrieves the fallen microphone and walks over to Jay Dawg, slapping his hand on Drazon’s shoulder. “Oh, by the way,” says the King, “allow me to introduce you to your new tutor!” Drazon and the King shake hands as the crowd boos them lustily.

“Dear God,” cries Stevens. “Jay Dawg’s allied himself with the commissioner! Wildchild’s gotten himself into a world of trouble!”

FADE OUT



_THIS IS WHERE THE ELM/JD MATCH BEGINS_________________________



As yet another commercial break fades into nothingness, the viewer at home waits anxiously on his couch, expecting another dose of that SWF programming he loves so dearly. Suddenly, his senses are assaulted, as the repetitious heavy metal that is the Lockdown theme song blasts over the speakers, coupled with a jarring shot of the inside of the Thomas and Mack Center, filled to the brim with screaming, sign-waving fans! The camera pans over the fans for a second, sending their images beaming to televisions all over the world, before cutting to Mark Stevens and Bobby Riley, who sit anxiously behind the announce desk.

Stevens: And welcome back to SWF Lockdown, from beautiful yet trashy Las Vegas, Nevada!

Riley: And boy, are you folks in for a treat! Coming up next, the SWF will bring you the one and only “Spin the Wheel, Make the Deal” match, which-

Stevens: Woah woah woah, Riley, hold on.

Riley: What? Why?

Stevens: You know very well that we’re not doing any such thing. The SWF has higher standards of programming than that.

Riley: We do?

Stevens: Well, not really. But still, no oversized gimmicky wheel.

Riley: Awww.

Stevens: Instead, we’ve got the World Champion, El Luchadore Magnifico, taking on Jay Dawg, who gave rookie Wildchild a hell of a beating earlier in the night. Coincidentally, this is a rematch from the main event of Genesis III, so these two competitors should know each other pretty well.

Riley: Bah. That matchup can’t hold a candle to “Capture the Midget.”

Stevens: Maybe not, Riley. I’ll suppose we’ll just have to wait and see-

Multiple Fireworks suddenly explode around the arena, rafters and entrance ramp, interrupting Stevens in mid-sentence. The lights go out...

"THIS

IS

MAH

HOUSE!!"

The voice, obviously prerecorded, echoes through the arena. Rammstein's "Du Haste" plays over the speakers without the lyrics... The heavy beats thunder 360 degrees all over the arena... JD steps through the curtains, his head down. As thousands of fans express their displeasure, Jay walks to the top of the ramp, slowly raising his head. He lowers his head again, although a smile without good intentions is now plastered on his face.

Funyon: The following non-title contest is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first, from Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada, weighing in at two hundred and fifty pounds…Jaaaaaaay Daaaawwwwwg!!

JD slowly saunters down the ramp, soaking up the boos coming at him from every direction. He enters the ring, placing his hands on his thighs, and slowly cricks his neck. As his music dies down, JD heads over to the corner and leans up against its turnbuckles, leisurely waiting for his opponent. He doesn’t have to wait long, however, as a Mexican voice suddenly comes over the speakers, shouting…

“UNO!”

BOOM!

“DOS!”

BOOM!

“TRES!”

BOOM!

“CUATRO!”

BOOM!

As a burst of pyro shoots upwards from each turnbuckle in unison with each shouted word, Bunch of Believers’ “Mission Trip to Mexico” suddenly kicks up, drawing an incredible cheer from the capacity crowd. A second later, El Luchadore Magnifico pops out from behind the curtain, waving his Mexican flag proudly with one hand and clutching the World Title with the other. A mischievous grin painted on his face, the luchadore pauses at the top of the ramp and slowly lifts his arms to a forty-five degree angle, creating a primo photo opportunity that many of the audience members take advantage of.

Funyon: And now, from Mexico City, Mexico, weighing in at one hundred and ninety-three pounds, he is the SWF World Heavyweight Champion…El Luchadooooooorre Magnficoooooooo!!

Upon hearing his name, ELM breaks his pose and quickly heads down the ramp, slapping fans’ hands as he goes. As he approaches the ring, Magnifico breaks into a run and slides beneath the bottom rope, gliding stomach-first onto the mat…only to have JD charge across the ring and stomp the luchadore on his back, successfully completing a dastardly pre-match attack! As the boos ring out from every corner of the arena, the ref hastily calls the bell, waving his hand wildly as Jay viciously stomps away at the luchadore’s back.

DING DING DING

Riley: Ha ha! It looks like JD’s adrenaline is still flowing from that little tiff with Wildchild!

Stevens: Call it whatever you want, but the fact of the matter is that JD unfairly attacked Magnifico pre-match, when the luchadore had no way to defend himself!

JD continues his unfair attack as Magnifico struggles to his feet, fighting through the stomps as he does so. After a bit of struggling, ELM finally stands up, only to have Jay grab him by the arm and whip Magnifico across the ring. ELM rushes towards the far ropes, bounces off of them, and charges back towards JD. As Magnifico approaches, Jay bends over in the center of the ring, as if for a Back Body Drop! However, ELM manages to skid to a halt right in front of JD and throw his foot directly into Jay’s chin, stunning the pissed-off Canadian and knocking him up and out of his bent-over position! Looking take advantage of JD’s temporary stunning, Magnifico turns around and makes a break for the ropes behind him, before bouncing off of them and charging back towards his opponent! However, as ELM approaches, Jay suddenly lashes his arm out with a Clothesline, aiming it directly at Magnifico’s neck! ELM deftly ducks beneath Jay’s arm, stops himself, and then turns around to face JD. Dawg spins around, coming face-to-face with the luchadore…only to receive a boot to the gut for his troubles, doubling Jay over in the center of the ring! Moving quickly, ELM quickly pulls JD into a Suplex position, drawing an anticipatory cheer from the audience! Magnifico pauses for a moment before stomping his feet on the mat and lifting JD into the air, only to have Dawg kick and struggle wildly on his way up! JD’s wild thrashing makes it impossible for ELM to lift Jay any further, and the luchadore is forced to put his opponent back on the mat! Once Jay’s feet hit the ground, he reverses Magnifico’s suplex hold into a hold of his own, using it to effortlessly lift ELM into the air! JD holds Magnifico in the air for but a second…before falling forward, slamming ELM’s face into the canvas with a Reverse Suplex! A chorus of boos pours in from the crowd as JD quickly turns Magnifico onto his stomach, covering him and hooking the luchadore’s leg as the ref slides into position…

ONE…

TWO…No! Magnifico easily escapes at two and a half, effectively ending much of the crowd’s booing.

Stevens: It looks like Magnifico was a little overconfident of his own strength in that case. While he may be able to lift JD, he certainly can’t do it while Jay is thrashing and struggling like an animal.

Riley: Hah, you think that scrawny, pathetic excuse for a wrestler can actually lift two hundred and fifty pounds of unstoppable Canadian badass?

Stevens: Well, yeah.

Riley: …fine then, be that way!

Undaunted by the lack of a three count, Jay quickly rolls off of Magnifico and pops back to his feet, before reaching down, grabbing ELM by the arm, and jerking him to his feet. JD uses his grip to whip Magnifico across the ring, sending him rushing towards the far corner. As ELM approaches the corner, he spins away from it, absorbing the impact on his back as he crashes into the corner’s turnbuckles. Magnifico leans up against the corner, somewhat stunned from the impact, as JD charges across the ring, aiming himself directly at the luchadore! As Jay bears down on the luchadore, Magnifico suddenly grabs the top rope and jumps/pulls himself over the Canadian, causing him to crash chest first into the turnbuckles! As the fans cheer the sudden twist of fate, JD stumbles backwards and away from the turnbuckles, not even noticing ELM as he climbs onto the top rope. Magnifico takes a moment to balance himself on the rope, before leaping off of it and aiming his airborne body directly at JD! However, just before ELM can make impact, Jay suddenly bends over, causing Magnifico to whizz harmlessly over his head!

Riley: Hah! Miss!

Unfortunately for him, ELM manages to grab JD’s legs on the way down, and while he has his grip on them, the luchadore flips himself over and pulls down on the legs, yanking Jay down to the mat with a Sunset Flip!

Stevens: Or, you know, not.

Riley: Shut up!

The fans release a surprised pop as JD struggles wildly beneath Magnifico’s grip, desperate to escape, as the ref slides into position and begins counting…

ONE…

TWO-No! JD manages to escape, kicking out right after the two count! A second later, Jay springs back to his feet, standing up as Magnifico struggles to do the same. ELM finally reaches his feet, facing away from JD…only to be blasted from behind, as Jay delivers a devastating Clothesline to the back of ELM’s neck! Magnifico immediately falls onto his hands and knees, drawing a well-deserved round of boos from the crowd as he does so. Gritting his teeth, JD reaches down, grabs Magnifico by his pants and the scruff of the neck, and then lifts ELM onto his feet. Maintaining his grip on the luchadore, JD suddenly charges towards the nearby ropes, dragging ELM along with him! Jay suddenly throws Magnifico forward, heaving him towards and through the ropes! The fans release a prolonged OHHH! as ELM crashes to the outside, followed by a bevy of boos directed at JD, who looks very satisfied with himself.

Stevens: Ouch! JD absolutely wallops Magnifico with a Clothesline, before sending him flying to the outside!

Riley: And if you thought ELM had trouble with Jay in the ring, just wait until he has to compete in JD’s environment! He’s a natural brawler, and will absolutely destroy Magnifico on the outside!

As ELM writhes in pain on the outside, JD slowly climbs through the ropes and steps out onto the floor, leisurely sauntering over the luchadore as he begins struggling to his feet. JD steps towards the luchadore, a devious grin on his face…and then throws his boot directly into Magnifico’s kidney, knocking him to the ground! As the fans grow louder and louder in their displeasure, JD begins wildly stomping away at the luchadore’s back and side, keeping him on the floor with the stiff stomps. After landing about ten good blows, JD reaches down, grabs Magnifico by the hair, and painfully drags the luchadore to his feet, doing so as the ref shouts “Three!” inside the ring. Once ELM is standing, JD shifts his grip from the hair to the arm, before using his grip to whip Magnifico across the floor and towards the far steel steps! However, as ELM approaches the steps, he suddenly leaps into the air, gracefully gliding over the roadblock, angering JD and drawing a surprised pop from the audience! Magnifico lands just past the steps and turns to JD, just in time to see him barreling towards the luchadore, intent on catching and beating the living hell out of him! His eyes growing wide, ELM spins around and breaks into a sprint, running around the ring with JD trailing just a few feet behind him. Suddenly, Magnifico makes a sharp turn and slides head-first into the ring, popping to his feet as JD climbs up onto the apron. The very second Jay is standing on the apron, ELM leaps into the air and kicks his feet out, driving them into JD’s face with a Standing Dropkick! As another round of cheers rises from the crowd, Jay is knocked off of the apron, landing flat on his back right in front of the entrance ramp!

Stevens: Very smart move from Magnifico, as he uses JD’s anger against him and tricks Dawg into following the luchadore into the ring!

Riley: Please! Magnifico may be many things, such as dirty, weak, and Mexican, but he is not smart. If anything, it’s JAY that is tricking MAG into THINKING that he’s HURT.

Stevens: THANKS.

Riley: No problem.

ELM leans over the top ropes for a moment, looking out at JD with a triumphant grin on his face. Jay begins to push himself to his feet on the outside, and as he does so, Magnifico suddenly turns around and makes a break for the ropes behind him, bouncing off of them as JD struggles to his feet! ELM then charges across the ring and towards JD…before leaping into the air and flying over the top rope just as Jay reaches his feet! Magnifico extends his arms and legs in mid-air, crashing directly into JD’s chest with a Flying Cross-Body! The fans cheer their little hearts out as both men fall to the floor in a tumbling heap!

Stevens: Woah! Beautiful Flying Cross-Body to the outside from Magnifico, as he Crosses the Border and takes JD out on the outside!

After a few seconds of motionlessness from both men, Magnifico begins to push himself to his feet, shaking off the impact of the fall as he does so. ELM stands after a few seconds as JD begins struggling to his feet a foot or two away. Before he can stand, however, Magnifico grabs him by the arm, pulls Jay to his feet, and then leads him over to the ring and rolls JD beneath the bottom rope. Magnifico rolls in after him, quickly climbs back to his feet, reaches down, grabs Jay by the arm, and pulls him back to his feet. ELM then uses his grip to try and whip JD, only to have Jay reverse it, sending Magnifico involuntarily rushing towards the far ropes. ELM bounces off of the ropes and rushes back towards JD, and as he approaches, Jay reaches out and wraps his arms around Magnifico’s stomach, locking him into position for a Belly-to-Belly Suplex! The fans release a worried OHHH! upon seeing this, but then break into cheers as Magnifico begins fighting out of the hold, as he interlocks his fists and begins bashing them into JD’s head! Dawg absorbs the blows, intent on maintaining his grip, but there’s only so much damage his thick skull can take! Once ELM lands about five stiff blows, JD’s grip finally weakens, allowing Magnifico to escape his hold!

Riley: Foul! Closed fists are not allowed under SWF regulations!

Stevens: Please. If we enforced that rule, ninety percent of our matches would end in disqualifications.

Riley: Good! There’s far too much definitive winning and losing around here for me anyway!

The luchadore immediately spins around and makes a break for the ropes behind him…only to have JD’s hand fly out and grab Magnifico by the hair, stopping him dead in his tracks! JD uses his grip to jerk ELM towards him, and as he does so, Jay releases Magnifico’s hair and instead wraps his arms around his waist, capturing him in a Rear Waistlock! Not wasting a second, JD immediately lifts Magnifico into the air, before falling backwards, slamming the back of ELM’s neck and head into the canvas with a German Suplex! The fans seem to collectively cringe as Magnifico falls lifelessly to the mat, his hands gripping the back of his neck in pain. JD immediately rolls onto ELM after the suplex, hooking his leg and making the cover as the ref slides into position and begins counting…

ONE…

TWO…No! Magnifico gets a shoulder up at two and a half, drawing a hopeful cheer from the capacity crowd.

Riley: Tsk tsk. It’s really a shame how Magnifico insists on not being pinned, thus allowing himself to be beaten even more viciously by JD. Sad, really.

Stevens: Uh huh. Meanwhile, back in reality, JD nails ELM with a vicious German Suplex, but it’s not enough to put away the luchadore.

Riley: Right. What did I say?

Gritting his teeth and muttering a few choice words for the luchadore, JD grabs Magnifico by the arm and slowly stands up, pulling his opponent to his feet with him. Once he’s standing, JD uses his grip to whip/throw Magnifico into the nearby corner, which an exhausted ELM leans up against as Jay slowly approaches. With Magnifico unable to put up a defense, JD begins bashing away at the luchadore’s face, nailing him with five stiff blows as the fans shower him with boos. Once the punches are finished, Jay suddenly wraps his hands around Magnifico’s neck and begins choking the life out of him, which only serves to intensify the fans’ angry booing. After a good seven seconds of choking, the ref finally makes his presence felt, as he begins threatening JD with disqualification should he not release the choke. Jay complies with the ref’s order after a second or two, but immediately threatens the ref afterwards, causing the poor guy to cower under JD’s clenched fist. Jay chuckles to himself and turns back to Magnifico, who greets JD by blasting him in the face with an unexpected punch! As the crowd springs to life and begins cheering, ELM drives JD backwards with a quick series of punches, stunning the Canadian with blow after blow! However, before Magnifico can do anything with this sudden turn of momentum, JD suddenly throws out his hand and rakes ELM across the eyes, putting a quick stop to any and all luchadore-related offense. The fans boo JD vehemently as he grabs a distracted ELM around the waist, lifts him into the air, and slowly walks over to the nearby corner, where he sits Magnifico on the top rope.

Stevens: It looked like Magnifico was well on the way to a comeback, but Jay Dawg, shockingly, blatantly cheated to put an end to that.

Riley: I know! I would have never expected such a fine and upstanding citizen like JD to cheat in a wrestling match! For shame!

Stevens: Bobby, I was being sarcastic.

Riley: Well, so was I.

Stevens: Well, all right then.

As ELM sits on the top rope, stunned, JD begins to climb the corner’s turnbuckles, the crowd’s booing growing louder and louder the higher he ascends. Finally, Jay reaches the top rope, grabs Magnifico by the hair, and pulls the luchadore to his feet, cautiously holding him as he struggles to keep both himself and his opponent balanced on the top rope. Slowly, JD pulls ELM into a Suplex position, which only serves to intensify the fans’ booing in anticipation of the oncoming Superplex! However, before JD has a chance to lift Magnifico into the air, ELM begins bashing away at Jay’s side, delivering blow after blow to his tender, vulnerable kidney! Jay struggles to maintain his grip, but it’s no use, as the repeated blows slowly weaken JD and force him to loosen his hold on the luchadore! As the fans cheer for this most recent turn of events, Magnifico finally breaks free of JD’s confines, and celebrates this fact by shoving Jay off of the top turnbuckle, sending him crashing down to the mat! JD lands flat on his back, causing the entire ring to shake with the impact of his fall!

Stevens: Look out! JD tried to nail Magnifico with a Superplex, but ELM simply refused to let him do so!

Magnifico looks down on JD for a moment, his chest heaving and his eyes drooped, before standing up straight on the top turnbuckle. ELM takes a second to gain his balance and line himself up with Jay…and then leaps off of the top turnbuckle, crouching in mid-air as he crashes towards JD with a Frog Splash! Thousands of flashbulbs light up the scene as Jay rolls out of the way just before impact, causing Magnifico to crash into the canvas, stomach-first! A surprised OHHHH! rises from the stands as ELM bounces off of the mat before falling lifelessly onto the canvas, clutching his gut in pain.

Riley: Hah! JD may not have been successful in his Superplex attempt, but that didn’t stop him from avoiding the Superplex and causing Magnifico to go SPLAT!

Stevens: It seems like no matter what Magnifico does, he can’t score a definitive blow on JD. Besides the Crossing the Border Cross-Body, ELM hasn’t landed one strong move on Jay Dawg.

Riley: And this is a problem why…?

Neither man moves for several movements, both laying lifelessly on the mat as the fans murmur in excitement at what they just saw. Finally, JD begins to stir, as he rolls towards the luchadore, grabs him by the shoulder, and turns him onto his stomach. Jay then collapses onto the luchadore, covering him as the fans simultaneously express their displeasure. As Dawg lays motionless on the luchadore, the ref slides into position and begins counting…

ONE…

TWO…

TH-Noo! Magnifico gets a shoulder up just before the three count, drawing a relieved cheer from the capacity crowd!

Stevens: No! Magnifico just barely escapes the three count!

JD slowly rolls off of Magnifico and onto the mat, gritting his teeth and muttering curses in anger as he does so. Jay begins slowly pushing himself to his feet, leaving Magnifico alone and motionless on the mat as he does so. After a bit of struggling, JD slowly stands up, shaking off his grand fall to the mat as he does so. Once Jay is on his feet, he purposefully heads over to where Magnifico lays, reaches down, and grabs the luchadore by the arm. JD uses his grip to pull ELM to his feet, before whipping Magnifico across the ring and sending him rushing towards the far ropes. ELM bounces off of said ropes and charges back towards JD, and as he approaches, Jay suddenly spins around and lashes out with his foot, looking to slam it into Magnifico’s skull with a Thai Roundhouse Kick! The fans OHHH! in concern when they see JD use this attack, only to quickly revert to cheers when Magnifico hits the mat and rolls beneath Jay’s extended leg! ELM pops back to his feet and spins around to face JD, only to receive a stiff and blatant boot to the crotch from the Dawg! The fans are VERY adamant in their displeasure as Magnifico immediately doubles over, holding his crotch in pain as the ref futilely yells at JD.

Stevens: Oh, come on! JD is showing a complete disregard for the rules! Why isn’t the ref disqualifying him?

Riley: Hmm, maybe because he’s a spineless pussy with no real power?

Stevens: …yeah, that’s probably it.

As to be expected, Jay completely ignores the referee as he reaches out, grabs Magnifico around the waist and lifts him into the air, before dropping ELM crotch-first on his knee, further damaging that particular area with a Manhattan Drop! His body racked with pain, Magnifico pops off of JD’s knee, only to have Jay hit him with a stiff kick to the gut, doubling ELM over in the center of the ring! Moving swiftly, JD pulls Magnifico into a Standing Head-Scissors, grabs ELM around the waist, and then lifts him onto his shoulders, as if for a Powerbomb! Magnifico is in the air for but a second, as JD immediately falls forward, slamming him into the canvas with a Powerbomb and delivering a headbutt to ELM’s crotch in the process! The fans wince in unison as Magnifico lays lifelessly on the mat, his body coarsing with pain. JD, a confident smirk on his face, quickly covers the luchadore, hooking his leg while the ref slides into position and begins counting…

ONE…

TWO…



















THR-Nooo! Magnifico gets a shoulder up mere hundredths of a second before the three count, drawing a very loud and relieved pop from the capacity crowd!

Stevens: No! No! Even though Magnifico suffered through JD’s painful and incredibly illegal Powerbomb Combo, he still managed to kick out!

Riley: There you go again! Why must everything JD do be illegal in your eyes?

Stevens: Riley, that shit would be illegal in ANYONE’S eyes. JD delivered three different attacks to Magnifico’s crotch, and you claim that they’re all legal?

Riley: Absotively! What I’m concerned about is the dastardly use of the closed fist from Magnifico earlier in the match! I am shocked and appalled that the ref didn’t disqualify him on the spot!

JD quickly rolls off of Magnifico and pops back to his feet, shocked and quite pissed that the match isn’t his yet. Jay immediately gets in the ref’s face, questioning both his competence and his sexuality as the poor man cowers in fear. Spouting curses a mile a minute, JD turns away from the terrified ref and back towards Magnifico, who has just begun to stir. As ELM begins to slowly, pathetically push himself to his feet, Jay Dawg stands over him, verbally assaulting the luchadore as he reaches his hands and knees. Apparently looking to move from verbal to physical, JD reaches down, grabs Magnifico by the arm, and him to his feet, before using his grip to whip ELM across the ring and towards the far ropes. Magnifico, still looking quite dazed and in a good deal of pain, bounces off of said ropes and charges back towards JD, who waits anxiously in the center of the ring. As ELM approaches, Jay hooks his arm under the luchadore’s and lifts him into the air, apparently looking to land a Mexican Arm Drag Brainbuster! However, as JD lifts, Magnifico suddenly breaks his arm free, causing the luchadore to harmlessly land feet-first on the mat! The second ELM is on his feet, he throws his foot forward, planting it in JD’s gut...only to have it caught in mid-kick, drawing a concerned OHHH! from the crowd! As ELM hops helplessly on one foot, JD’s face slowly curves into a devious grin, showing that Magnifico probably won’t enjoy what’s about to happen next.

Stevens: Oh no...

Riley: What? What’s happening?

Stevens: This looks eerily similar to a scene from their match at Genesis III! If I remember correctly, JD is going to spin Magnifico into-

Riley: The Final Thought!! Yes! JD will finally be victorious over that dirty luchadore.

JD holds Magnifico for a few more seconds...before suddenly throwing his leg to the right, spinning ELM around three hundred and sixty degrees! When Magnifico is facing Jay again, the Dawg throws out his boot, aiming it at his opponent’s stomach...only to have ELM catch it, drawing a surprised pop from the fans! Jay’s eyes widen in surprise as ELM violently throws his leg to the right, spinning JD around three hundred and sixty degrees! Once JD is facing Magnifico, the luchadore delivers the first successful boot to the gut, doubling Jay over in the center of the ring! ELM then grabs JD’s arm and twists it into a Chickenwing, before reaching up and grabbing Jay around the head, setting him up for Montezuma’s Revenge! The crowd is already cheering when Magnifico drops onto his knees, driving JD’s chin directly into his shoulder! Dawg springs backwards away from ELM and lands flat on his back, laying motionless on that mat as Magnifico remains on his knees, breathing deeply.

Stevens: Montezuma’s Revenge! Magnifico countered out of the Final Thought and countered into Montezuma’s Revenge!

ELM remains on his knees for a few moments, needing to catch his breath before he can continue. Finally, Magnifico climbs back to his feet, and once he’s standing, the luchadore turns and heads towards the nearest corner, further intensifying the already formidable cheers! Magnifico slowly ascends the corner’s turnbuckles, reaching the top rope with minimal trouble. ELM carefully stands up on the top turnbuckle, struggling to keep his balance...before turning towards his Mexican Flag and saluting it proudly, immediately drawing an anticipatory pop from the excited crowd! Wasting no time, Magnifico turns back towards JD and leaps off of the top turnbuckle, flipping backwards in mid-air as he does so! Thousands of cameras go off, capturing the scene forever as Magnifico crashes into Jay’s gut, making perfect contact with the Mexican Pride Press! The cheering only grows more intense as Magnifico bounces off of JD and falls to the mat, clutching his gut as he does so!

Riley: Dammit! Dammit dammit dammit!

Stevens: Yes! Magnifico has hit his aerial finisher, the Mexican Pride Press! The only question is, will it be enough to finish Jay Dawg off?

Magnifico lays motionless on the mat for a few moments, temporarily paralyzed by the pain emanating from his gut. Slowly, ELM rolls towards JD, lifts his arm up...and throws it over Jay’s chest, making a half-hearted yet valid cover! The fans never let up in their support as the ref slides into position and begins counting...

ONE...

TWO...





























THREEE!! The ref springs to his feet and signals for the bell, which is nearly drowned out by the massive cheers!

DING DING DING

Funyon: Your winner, by pinfall...El Luchadooooooorre Magnificooooooooo!!

ELM slowly rolls off of JD, a weak smile creeping across his face as Jay lays motionless next to him.

Riley: Well, shit.

Stevens: And Magnifico scores the pinfall with a Montezuma’s Revenge followed by the Mexican Pride Press! JD dominated much of the contest, but when he let it slip away for just one second, Magnifico pounced on the opportunity!

Riley: Kinda like how a dirty Mexican pounces on a degrading dishwashing job, right?

Stevens: I’m in too good of a mood to listen to you, but if you folks stick around, you might get to see me pummel Riley to the edge of his pathetic life! Oh, and TNT vs. Frost in the Main Event. Don’t go anywhere!

The final image shown before the commercial break is a shaky Magnifico, pushing himself to one knee with a tired, victorious smile etched across his face...
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+Quote Post
Guest_TheBostonStrangler_*
post Mar 6 2003, 02:42 PM
Post #11





Guests






Frost sits in his cramped dressing room with his feet up on a desk that has a lighted mirror above it. He flips through a local racing form; they are in Las Vegas after all. The room might not seem fitting of a double champion, but it was all that was available to him when he asked for something outside of the Mag 7’s group room. Frost has been getting along with everyone much better lately, especially Flesher who seems eerily chummy, but with all that was going on tonight he deemed a bit of space would be best. A timid knock at the door rouses him and he folds the racing form across his lap.

“Who is it?” Frost gruffly barks, hoping it’s not Ben Hardy demanding a second interview.

For a moment, there’s nothing but silence and then a quiet reply of “It’s me, Taylor.”

Frost ponders that information for a second. He’s been trained not to trust anyone, especially your opponent that night, but he cannot deny a certain trust and soft spot in his heart for his former tag team partner. “Come in.” Frost tells him and the door opens ajar.

TNT puts his hand on the door edge and sticks half of his face into the room. “I was wondering if we could talk for a second?”

“About the match?”

“Well…that…but…a lot of things really.” Thompson’s voice is distant and hollow.

“Come on in, son.” Frost tosses the racing form onto the dressing table and gestures toward a chair in the far corner. TNT slides into the room and stands with his back to the wall, shaking his head ‘no’ at the offer of a chair.

Frost leans back farther and rests his hands on his chest. Silence hovers awkwardly in the air. “Speak.” Frost commands like he might a dog.

TNT exhales deeply. “I…don’t know what to do tonight. I don’t want to wrestle you. You’ve been the only person to stand by me since I came back, but I let you down and…I guess that’s why we’re fighting tonight. It’s my own fault.”

Frost holds up a finger for him to pause. “It’s King’s fault. He booked the match. He booked the whole card. He just wants to stir up trouble, like I said earlier to Ben Hardy.”

“I’m the one that’s been stirring up trouble. I shouldn’t have won the Clusterfuck in the first place.” TNT stares at the floor to avoid Frost’s piercing blue eyes.

“Why not? You succeeded where 19 other men, including me, failed.”

“See!” TNT blurts in epiphany. “I didn’t win, everybody else failed. It was a fluke and King knows it and he wants to prove it tonight. I shouldn’t be facing ELM for the World Title it should be you, or Flesher, or even Danny or Judge, they’re champions. Hell, even put Craven in there, he’s held more titles than I ever have.”

Frost exhales deeply and chooses his next words carefully. “What anyone has done in the past doesn’t matter. It’s about what you do right now. Let’s say that winning the CF was a fluke, so what? You have that title shot now, it’s up to you to do the best you can with it now. You are in control and you have to take control. You are a former tag champion; you are a former US champion. You’ve won big matches, you’ve done big things and selling yourself short is only going to leave you winding up short.”

“You’ve been practicing that haven’t you?” Taylor chuckles with the faint hint of a smile.

“A little bit, yeah, did I rush it?” Frost says deadpan, as close to joking as he usually ever gets.

TNT laughs a little louder and fuller. “I was a US Champ for 3 days. The only reason I beat Flesher for it was because he had a head cold and a fever…”

“Who told you that?” Frost interrupts.

“He did.” TNT replies. “The only reason I was a tag champ,” he continues, “was because of you. You always had the strategy, the will to win, knew how to pull it out in the end. I just went along for the ride.”

“That’s not true,” Frost tries to correct him. “A tag team championship is based on two people working together, carrying an equal load. Remember that bomb shelter match we had with Xero and Danny Williams? Who came up with the idea of stealing the lock?”

“Uh…you did.” Taylor hates to correct Frost.

Frost puts a finger to his lips in contemplation. “Oh, yeah…but who had the pockets in their pants to hide the lock?”

“I did.”

“You did. Two people working together.” Frost points at TNT. “I was only as great as you allowed me to be. Our match tonight will only be as good as you allow it to be. You MUST win, you MUST face ELM at From the Fire and you MUST beat him for the SWF World Title. You want everyone to take you more seriously now and you want to take yourself more seriously and this is the only way to do it. I want you to go out there tonight and give me everything you got.”

TNT solemnly nods his head, it’s hard to tell whether he truly hears Frost or not. He turns to leave and Frost swings from his perch and kicks the door closed in Thompson’s face with both feet. He jumps back startled and spins to face Frost. He leans forward in his chair with his elbows on his knees and flicks a smoldering ash that flutters through the air and lands on the toe of Taylor’s boot.

“Because if you don’t,” Frost puts the cigar back in his mouth “I’ll drill your god damn head into the floor.”
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+Quote Post
Guest_TheBostonStrangler_*
post Mar 6 2003, 02:43 PM
Post #12





Guests






- TALE OF THE TAPE -

Frost
Height: 6'7"
Weight: 296 lbs.
Finishing Move: Early Winter
Career Accomplishments:
- Former SWF Hardcore Champion
- Two Time And Current SWF Tag Team Champion
- Current SWF ICTV Champion

(Accompanied by an animated graphic of the massive Icelander shouldering both title belts and looking menacing as ever.)

-V.S.-

Taylor Nicholas Thompson
Height: 6'6"
Weight: 264 lbs.
Finishing Move: Mushroom Cloud
Career Accomplishments:
- Former SWF U.S. Champion
- Former SWF Tag Team Champion
- Longest Reigning SJL TV Champion
- Winner of 2003 Clusterfuck

(Accompanied by an animated graphic of TNT doing some shoulder rolls to show off his impressive physique, freezing into a pose where he stares intensely into the camera.)

---

Stevens: Sit tight, folks. We gotta take one last commercial break and then coming right up, former partners WILL collide as Frost goes one on one with Taylor Nicholas Thompson.

Riley: Fire up the Jiffy Pop, people because IT - IS - NEXT!

Just as we go to break, the cameras swarm all over the crowd ... just in time to catch a shot of Tod deKindes, sitting up in the rafters. Stroking his chin stubble thoughtfully, he looks to be staring out to the ring ...

Fade.
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+Quote Post
Guest_TheBostonStrangler_*
post Mar 6 2003, 02:44 PM
Post #13





Guests






The scene fades in to highlight a neon cowboy chewing on a thistle and moving his mechanical arm back and forth. The shot pulls back to reveal the glitzy and chintzy Las Vegas skyline.

“I don’t think that sign is actually there anymore, it was just easier to use stock footage than to setup a live camera,” admits a smarmy voice.

“And I keep telling King that it would be easier to digitally edit in the Exploding Chicken too.” Mark Stevens says with a laugh as the shot transitions to the commentator’s table.

“Welcome back to SWF Lockdown, this week coming to you live from Las Vegas on the UNLV campus.” Mark informs the latecomers.

“Specifically from the Jerry Tarkenian epicenter for the attractively challenged.” Riley says with his best poker face, although that didn’t help at the tables earlier in the day.

“Known to those living on this plane of reality as the Thomas and Mack Center.” Stevens says equally as deadpan. “Tonight, has mostly seen the Magnificent 7 square off against one another in a power play by our Commissioner the Suicide King.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Bobby puts his hands up to cut Mark off “that’s only Frost’s opinion and it’s not shared by any stunningly handsome color commentators in this building tonight.”

“Those were indeed the remarks of the ICTV Champion earlier tonight before serving as a guest referee in the US Title match. He might have special reason to believe that King is playing mind games as the Velvet Hammer is only moments away from squaring off against his former tag team partner and probably the closest person to a true ‘friend’ in this federation he has, Taylor Nicholas Thompson.” Marks says with grave candor, realizing the gravity of the situation.

“And why are they fighting?” Riley asks. “Because Thompson has not proven himself worthy of facing off with El Luchadore Magnifico since winning the right at the Cluster Fuck. How someone isn’t ‘worthy’ to face an illegal Mexican midget is beyond me.”

“I can kind of see King’s line of thinking here, Bobby,” Mark has to confess “Thompson might have WON a title shot with ELM, but he has done little to EARN it. Since the Cluster Fuck Thompson has frankly put in lackluster performances if he’s even shown up in the building at all. I can understand the young man feeling the pressure of the world on his shoulders and having to forge through the SWF alone considering that the Magnificent 7, specifically Tom Flesher, refused to take him back in. However, he cannot let the golden opportunity of a World Title around his waist pass him by.”

“Nice motivational speech there, Tony Little,” Mark belittles his colleague. “If TNT is some kind of head case that would force Sigmund Freud to take Quaaludes, I don’t want him as my World Champion.”

“From his first run in the fed I would find this hard to believe, but Thompson is quite a complicated person trying hard to find himself in the world. A solid win over his friend, partner and, in a lot of ways, mentor might just put him in the right frame of mind to give ELM a run for his money at From the Fire.” Mark nods at the camera.

“And if he doesn’t win, he just might find a certain ass kicking Icelander in his slot. Hell, he might find Xero in his slot,” Riley rolls his eyes at such an absurd notion. “It’s must win for TNT. So enough squawking, there’s a nickel slot machine out there with my name on it. ”

The scene switches to a wide shot of Funyon standing in the center of the squared circle. He bounces on the heels of his feet from the energy of the hot, buzzing crowd and sees the little red light to cue him.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” comes the booming baritone “it is now time for our Main Event on Lockdown!” The fans pop. “The following is a non-title singles match under standard SWF rules. On the line, the World Title shot against El Luchadore Magnifico,” another pop for the name drop echoes through the arena “at From the Fire. Entering first, defending that shot…”

Funyon purposely trails off as the grunting of “OY! OY! OY!” reverberates through the auditorium. The fans boo the ruffling backstage curtain and explode louder as the hulking form of Taylor Nicholas Thompson strides out of the back. He steps into the red and orange spotlights that shine down from the rafters. He looks out on the hissing fans for a second before continuing down the ramp and to the ring.

Stevens: “He’s trying not to show it King, but it doesn’t look like Thompson is at the top of his game tonight. He appears to have a lot weighing on his mind and rightfully so.”

Riley: “You know I usually have great respect for Thompson…”

Stevens: “You don’t respect anybody.”

Riley: “Ok, ok, I usually LIKE Thompson, because he’s grinding people I hate more into dust, but I have to side with Frost here tonight. Look at TNT; he’s moping like Annie Eclectic when her vibrator runs out of batteries. Suck it up and be a man.”

Stevens: “Please add, ‘suck it up and be a man,’ to the list of phrases you can never say around me.”

TNT slides under the bottom rope and glides to his feet. He gives a curt nod to Funyon who finishes his introduction of the man.

“From Anaheim, California and weighing in at 264 pounds. He is the number one contender for the SWF World Heavyweight Title…for now.” Funyon drops his voice ominously. “Watch him Explode, TAYLOR NICHOLAS THOMPSON, better known as T…N…TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!”

More customary jeers bathe the big grappler, but he pays them no mind. His eyes narrow on the backstage curtain and his ears prick up when the music switches to the fierce opening guitar lick of “Frost Wants to Kill your Mama.”

Stevens: “If TNT thought he was booed, it doesn’t compare to anything the ICTV and co-Tag Champion is receiving from this Las Vegas crowd.”

Riley: “Damn gamblers and drunks, 98 cent breakfast buffets have made them jaded.”

Frost stalks out from behind the curtain with the small nub of a cigar clenched in his teeth. He stops at the top of the ramp and swishes the cigar back and forth in his mouth while raising a defiant fist into the air. He locks eyes with Thompson far off in the ring and nods his head slightly. The camera cuts back to Taylor just in time to catch him returning the nod in silence.

Stevens: “Although we out here were not privy to the meeting. I’ve been told that Frost and TNT had a bit of a powwow backstage earlier, where the Icelander basically told Thompson to hit him with everything he’s got and fight this match hard.”

Riley: “Frost doesn’t have any challenges anymore. CIA? Mak Francis? Hell, he beat the SNOT out of the World Champion just last week in a boxing match. They’re still sweeping up ELM’s brains back in L.A. Frost just wants to have a reason to pull the boots on in the first place.”

Frost stands on the floor and looks at TNT in the ring while he hands his title belts over to a perky, blonde attendant.

“Now at ringside from Reykjavik, Iceland and tipping the scales at 296 pounds. He is one half of the SWF Tag Team Champion and holder of the Intercontinental/Television belt. Representing the Magnificent 7, the Velvet Hammer, FRRRRROOOOOSSSSSST!”

At the sound of his name, Frost springs to the apron and flicks his cigar into the stands. He swings his wide legs over the top rope and just misses the cigar hurtling back toward his ear. Frost throws his arms back a few times to flex his mighty torso out and TNT does the same. Frost attempts to get light on his huge feet and circles the outside edge of the ring with Taylor once more following his lead and watching every movement like a hawk. Funyon hits the floor and Mark Hebner signals for the bell.

DING DING DING

Stevens: “Our main event, and possibly the future of the SWF, is about ready to be decided. TNT looks to be shadowing Frost to start, letting him lead.”

Riley: “Like a bitch in a prison square dance.”

Frost stops his flight around the ring near the upper right corner and TNT does the same opposite him. Frost shrugs his massive shoulders and can be seen mouthing the words, “so, what do you want to do?” TNT blinks and opens his mouth ready to speak, but he quickly closes it again and mopes in place.

Stevens: “Frost is trying to let Thompson take the initiative here, but he doesn’t seem to want it.”

Riley: “Christ, Frost, is playing Dr. Phil to your ‘little buddy’ worth more to you than a World Title match?”

Frost grits his teeth and rolls his shoulders. He lunges forward with his arms up and TNT snaps back into reality to meet Frost in a collar and elbow tie up out of instinct. They struggle back and forth like two warring bucks for a few seconds, before Frost clearly gains the upper hand and pushes Thompson back. TNT twists in the lockup and collars Frost around the skull and brings him down for a side headlock. Taylor looks at a lost as to what to do now and is promptly thrown into the far ropes by Frost. He twists to take the strands in the back and rushes off with his arm extended for a clothesline. He plows Frost in the chest and the snow giant goes down! The crowd applauds, but only until they see Frost rocket to his feet. Thompson’s eyes bug out from him getting up so quickly. Frost waves his hands and screams at TNT, begging him to do it again.

Stevens: “Unbelievable! Frost wants Thompson to clothesline him again. I’m not sure what his gambit is and neither does TNT.”

Thompson inhales deeply and runs at Frost with his arm out again. He catches Frost in the chest and he rolls with the blow as he falls. He hits his chest and pushes himself up to his feet in the blink of an eye. Boos roar down as Frost yells even more fiercely for TNT to give him another go. TNT looks at the fans with questioning eyes.

Riley: “It’s tough love. Frost wants to get TNT fired up and pissed off. Probably won’t help him out much, but sometimes tough love means whopping some ass too.”

The audience encourages him to give it another go and slowly get behind the mentally struggling brawler. TNT steels himself and charges anew. Frost takes a dozy of a lariat this time and smashes the canvas hard enough to jar the whole ring. He’s a little slower to stand this time, but still makes his feet sharply with a big grin rising on his lips. His revelry is short lived as a shadow drapes over his figure and he lifts his head just in time to take a beefy forearm across the eyes!

Stevens: “In trying to get TNT not to underestimate himself, Frost might have underestimated him in his own right. TNT surprises the ICTV champ with a flying forearm off the ropes and both men are down.”

TNT rolls quickly to his feet and holds his hands over his head in the ‘diamond cutter’ symbol. He snaps them down with a loud “BANG!” and motions Frost to stand up. The fans lose it.

Stevens: “Thompson’s feeling it now and he’s ready to fight!”

Riley: “Damn it, Frost, there’s a little bitty ember of heat in that ice cold heart and it’s going to cost you.”

Frost stands with a shocked look on his kisser. TNT slaps his chest and calls for Frost to charge him with a clothesline! Frost chuckles at the audacity and strings his arm out to his side as he bum rushes the Explosive One.

Riley: “Frost might be able to take a TNT clothesline, but Hell must be freezing over, if Thompson believes he can take this lariat.”

TNT stands firm in the ring with Frost charging to decapitate him. Thompson reaches out and grabs Frost’s wrist and twirls to get behind his opponent and wrenches his arm into a hammerlock! The crowd pops and Frost tries to salvage the situation with a back elbow. TNT ducks for leverage and hoists the muscular monster off his feet and rears back to slam him over on the nape of his neck!

Stevens: “Hammerlock suplex! Thompson roped Frost in with his own tactics and then turned the table on him. He might act like a goofball outside the ring, but TNT is a solid ring general and just outsmarted the Velvet Hammer!”

Riley: “Hell has frozen over.”

Frost rolls over to his knees and hold his left hand to the back of his aching head. Thompson keeps the right arm in the hammerlock and climbs onto Frost’s back to weigh him down. Frost attempts to stand, but TNT is just too big of a man to power up on from his current position. Frost flops flat to the mat and throws his free hand to the ropes. He’s a good foot away and TNT cranks on the hammerlock while keeping him in place with his own substantial bulk.

Stevens: “Not only are these two men former tag team partners, but they squared off a few times back in the JL days. They know what makes the other tick and Thompson knows that Frost can be beaten at his own game. Notice him using his own size and strength to his advantage here in the early going.”

Frost throws his arm back and smacks and claws to get a grip on TNT’s face but he rears his head back to avoid the appendage. Frost tries kicking his legs back, but that too proves fruitless in earning the break.

Riley: “That cuts both ways, Mark. Frost knows TNT too. Of course, if he hadn’t tried to do the RIGHT thing and get Thompson back on track he would be making easy money on the craps tables by now instead of rolling a hard eight in the ring.”

TNT slides around on Frost’s oiled up body to face his slashing legs. He readjusts his weight to rest on Frost’s lower back and grabs his feet by the ankles. He tucks the toes of his boots under his armpits and rears back with a Boston Crab.

Stevens: “TNT changes it up a bit. Hebner asks for the submission, but it’s a little too early for a man like Frost to be giving up. Thompson is primarily looking to keep Frost grounded and to wear him down. Good strategy.”

Frost tries to pull himself forward by both arms, but not even his upper body strength is enough to pull out from the almost as large TNT. Hebner lies on the mat to be eye to eye with Frost and asks if he submits. Frost screams “HELL NO!” at the top of his lungs and grunts with exertion to reach the ropes in vain.

Riley: “When did you become such a huge Thompson fan? TNT is not some underdog here you know. He’s the Cluster Fuck winner. A former Tag Team Champion. A US Title holder, something Frost never did by the way. It’s not like you should be so amazed he’s doing so well and praising every single move.”

Stevens: “You have money on Frost don’t you?”

Riley: “Along with a horse named Bathtub Gin running in the fourth at Aqueduct.”

TNT realizes that they are at a stalemate and puts both hands on the right ankle while spinning off of Frost’s back to a standing position. Thompson grinds the foot in an ankle lock. Frost skips up to barely get his free left leg under him and looks to roll through the move. However, that was just what Thompson was hoping for and he heaves Frost over by the leg to splat on his back!

Stevens: “TNT outthinks his close friend again. He knew Frost would try to counter by rolling through the ankle lock and didn’t give him the chance. Frost lays dazes on the mat and TNT heads for the ropes.”

TNT hits the near cords and pops into the air as he comes off. He cocks an elbow and aims it for Frost’s upturned face. He sees the blow coming, but can’t do anything about it.

WHAM!

Stevens: “Big elbow drop! The cover!”

Thompson makes sure to wrangle the leg and Hebner counts.

ONE




TWO




TH-

Stevens: “Frost kicks free and Thompson brings him up by the sides of his head.”

Coming to terms with the fact that he might have over motivated TNT, Frost sends a forearm blast between TNT’s legs. The crowd ‘ooos’ in sympathy as Thompson crosses his hands over his groin and sinks to his knees. Frost falls back to his knees as well due to them still being rubbery from the submission work.

Riley: “Goes to show you, no matter how much you try to outthink somebody, a stiff crotch shot makes us all equals.”

Stevens: “Frost makes his way up. He looks a little shaky, but Thompson really wasn’t able to setup the Boston Crab or ankle lock to get full effect out of them. TNT should keep pounding those legs though.”

Riley: “When Frost isn’t pounding his whole body.”

Frost trips over to the downed Thompson and looks on him from above. He shakes his head and gives a wry grin. The audience jeers, thinking it is a smile of now having the match in hand, when in reality Frost is just pleased to see a little fight in TNT. He rams his knee up under the Explosive One’s chin and TNT topples over to the canvas. He pushes himself up with one hand on the turf and the other right below his mouth.

Riley: “No funky submission work or heavy strategy here, just a beating.”

Frost drills TNT in the back of the head with a boot and he strikes the mat with a bam. Frost sends two more boots into Thompson’s ribs and he scurries to grab the nearby ropes and climb up them like a ladder. He gets halfway up before Frost snags his right side in a half nelson and pulls him off the strand while snaking his other arm across his throat and gripping his own wrist. He makes a quarter turn to face the center of the ring and hefts TNT up with a grunt then releases his hold to send him slamming to the mat face first!

Stevens: “Cobra Clutch slam puts Thompson down…and he’s not done yet!”

Frost times his movements just right in order to dive down with the knobby point of his elbow to Taylor’s chest as he rolls over. He pops slightly off the mat and Frost hooks the leg for a pin.

ONE




TWO

TNT kicks his leg free and rolls into Frost to get his shoulder up. Frost makes his knees and stands while forcing TNT with him through a fist full of dreadlocks.

Riley: “Never have long hair as a wrestler. It just gets jerked on. Then again, I always thought Thompson looked like some funky ass Jamaican Barry Windham with those dreads anyway, he needs a haircut.”

Stevens: “Oh, there’s another one. Never talked about things getting ‘jerked on’ either.”

Frost tucks TNT’s head under his armpit as he reaches his full height in a front facelock. He bellows at the hissing throng and swings TNT up and around to momentarily rest on his shoulder before plunging down with a swinging neckbreaker! TNT’s head bounces off of Frost’s shoulder and his upper body slumps over to the right. Frost leans back to roll Thompson flat and lies stretched out on top of him for a sloppy cover.

ONE




TWO




TH-

Stevens: “Thompson gets the shoulder up. That might have the been the cover that most easily presented itself there, but Frost knows it was never going to be an effective one.”

Riley: “You can see him cursing himself as he brings TNT up again. He’s got his head back in this match to win now. He’s done his good deed for the millennium in helping Thompson get his confidence back.”

Frost tucks TNT’s head into another front facelock and reaches to snag a belt loop on his cargo pants.

Stevens: “Frost sets up the Ice Pick DDT.”

TNT’s feet get about a half-foot off the ground before he throws his weight back to land firm. He pushes forward and backs Frost into the upper right ring corner. Hebner admonishes him for the clean break and Frost wearily raises his hands up high above his head. TNT scoots away from him and stands upright. He grins at Frost and throws his arms open wide to show that he is breaking clean. Eyeing Taylor’s midsection like a bull’s-eye, Frost tries to race in a punch. However, TNT is a little quicker in slamming his leg forward in a punt to the junk!

Stevens: “Ow! TNT returns the low blow from earlier. Now it is Frost groveling in pain.”

Riley: “Listen to these savages cheer for such a heinous act. They deserve to have the most famous athlete from this retched school be Grandmamma Larry Johnson.”

Hebner warns TNT about the groin shot as he delivers a knee lift to the face. Frost’s skull smacks the turnbuckles and Thompson steps to the side so he can collapse in a heap. He resists the urge to make light of Hebner and snap off another ‘bang’ hand sign to focus on the task at hand. Thompson takes the top rope in both hands and furiously stomps Frost’s right ankle. He moans and groans in pain before hauling himself away from the World Title number one contender, who looks to stay that way.

Stevens: “TNT going back to the legs and that right ankle specifically. He’s never been one for heady submission psychology sure, but he knows to beat Frost you have to take his wheels out from under him and not only hit him with a taste of his own medicine, but tactics he’ll have a hard time countering.”

TNT snatches the ankle and lifts into a second ankle lock. Frost knows he cannot stay in the move for long, but also that rolling through is not an option. Frost sneaks his free leg between Thompson and sweeps it to take the grappler’s right leg out from under him. TNT wobbles off balance and Frost shifts his weight while kicking his leg to the side to upend his opponent.

Riley: “Look at that! I don’t even know what to call that move. Let’s christen it the ‘Frost bad ass mofo counter for shitty ankle locks.’”

Thompson shakes his head to get his bearings on the mat. Frost slides over and mounts Thompson for a series of hard right hands.

Stevens: “With being a muscle bound brute, some people forget how smart and technically efficient Frost can be in the ring. What could have easily been a standard power match is turning out to be a clever battle of wits.”

Riley: “Then TNT should be about done.”

Frost stands up from TNT with both hands tight in his hair. Frost gingerly puts weight on his right ankle while hoisting Thompson up. He smacks him with a headbutt! TNT’s body tremors, but Frost holds on and nails another headbutt! A third rocks Thompson further and Frost lets go. TNT falls stunned into the ropes and bounces off into Frost’s waiting arms. He puts one hand under the shoulder and the other between the legs to lug Taylor up. Frost twists and turns the big man around his body like a fancy juggler and slams TNT to the mat!

Stevens: “Tilt-a-whirl slam! Cover!”

ONE




TWO




THR-

Stevens: “Shoulder up! TNT rolls out from under Frost, but the Icelandic Iceman wraps his arms around the midsection.”

Taylor pushes himself off the mat as Frost lifts him. He hauls him rearward to rest on his shoulder for a gut wrench suplex. TNT kicks and flails in his grasp while clawing at his hands to get them to release. Frost’s right leg quivers slightly and TNT just manages to fidget loose. He lands on his feet and spins behind Frost for a half nelson.

Stevens: “Thompson goes for the half nelson suplex, but I don’t think he can manage it.”

TNT reels back and Frost’s legs get a few inches off the mat before he throws his weight forward to retake his feet. He makes a standing switch into a half nelson of his own and skips forward in one swift motion.

Riley: “Half nelson bulldog! Turn off the lights, the party’s over.”

ONE!






TWO!






THRE-

Hebner pats Frost on the shoulder and points at TNT’s foot.

Stevens: “Boot on the ropes. It looks like you called the party off a little too early, Bobby.”

Riley: “Oh well, it’s a swinging party.”

Frost rolls down TNT’s arm and cinches a wristlock as he stands. He turns the wrist, but TNT grits through it to step in with a hook shot to the ribs. Frost snorts from the shot. He keeps the wristlock and tries to keep Taylor at bay with a sidekick. TNT catches the leg and uses it as a pivot to rip Frost across his body and off his feet!

Stevens: “Leg whip from TNT and he moves into a leglock type hold.”

TNT clamps his ankles in an x around Frost’s right ankle and bars his knee with both hands. TNT sits on the mat while Frost lies down. Frost props himself up to a half sitting position and works his hands from behind TNT for a chinlock.

Stevens: “Frost pulls back on the chinlock, but that also forces TNT to yank back on the leg more.”

Riley: “It’s all about who can stand the pain more. Frost has TNT’s body torqued into positions it shouldn’t be doing.”

Frost gives a good yank on the chinlock and TNT yelps in releasing his leglock. Thompson gets his feet under him to stand with Frost trying to keep him down with the chinlock. Frost’s right leg touches the mat and a shock wave of pain forces him to release the move and stumble back against the ropes to one knee. TNT moves to attack, but a chorus of suspicious boos whips his head around to the entrance ramp.

Stevens: “It’s Tom Flesher! What the hell is he doing out here?”

The Magnificent 7 leader calmly sashays down the ramp with a beaming smile for the loathing crowd. TNT spots him warily and Flesher shoos his hands in front of him for Taylor to go about his business.

Riley: “Frost is his tag team partner and the two have been getting along a lot better since getting on the same page and focusing on defending the tag straps. He’s just watching out for his boy.”

TNT stands with his hands on his hips and taps his foot. Frost’s head is still down and his chest heaves for air. He hasn’t noticed Flesher yet, but Taylor sure has.

Stevens: “That doesn’t matter, he has no direct stake in this match and shouldn’t be out here.”

Riley: “Direct stake? If Frost wins and takes the World Title shot where does that leave the Tag Title defense against Justice and Rule? The outcome could very much effect him.”

TNT yells at Flesher and points for him to return to the back. Tom lifts his left arm and waves his hand like a little child going ‘bye-bye.’ This confuses Thompson, until he feels himself being towed down from behind!

ONE!






TWO!






THR-

Thompson kicks back and rolls out of the schoolboy.

Stevens: “See! Flesher distracted TNT and could have allowed Frost to get the cheap victory.”

Riley: “He shouldn’t have let himself get distracted. It’s his own fault.”

Flesher shrugs his shoulders at the near fall and makes his way around the ring to the commentator’s table. Bobby Riley stands and bows with his hands cupped in front of him. Flesher can be overheard saying, “you’re too kind and I’m too cool.”

TNT mutters under his breath disgustedly as he stands for letting Flesher steal his attention like that. Frost stands shakily and TNT jams a boot into his gut to keep him doubled over. He steps into a front facelock and hooks the Hammer by the tights for a vertical suplex. Frost grabs Taylor’s pants on the other side and muscles his way into reversing the move! Both men lay on the mat with Frost tending to his stinging ankle.

Riley hands Flesher a spare headset and he puts it on, making sure not to muss his hair. “See this,” Tom runs a hand down his body to showcase his sharp slacks and polo shirt “I’m not out here to fight, just to observe.”

“You shouldn’t even be doing that,” barks a ruffled Stevens.

Frost holds up a calming finger “Hold up there, Grand Slam Breakfast. I was Frost’s corner man last week for the boxing match and therefore both the Memphis Eel and me had to get manager’s licenses. I’m kosher to be ringside for Frost until the end of April, so go light your shrine to Carlton Fisk and leave me alone.”

Flesher spikes the headset down and takes a post near the lower right ring corner. He claps his hands while both men in the ring struggle up. Frost sees Flesher for the first time and seems a little taken aback.

Riley: “See, I told you, he’s looking out for his boy and even doing it legally.”

Stevens: “But I doubt if on the up and up. He’s a man who always has ulterior motives.”

Frost crawls to the far side of the ring and pokes his head through the middle ropes to address Flesher. The camera barely picks up their conversation through the din of crowd noise.

“What are you doing out here?”

“Watching your back.”

“This is between me and Taylor. It’s not your fight.”

“All your fights are my fight, partner.”

“Look, I want to…”

Frost is cut off as he’s ripped off the ropes and rolled up from behind by TNT!

ONE!






TWO!






THR-

Frost shifts his weight to the side and both men collapse out of the cradle.

Stevens: “Frost wants this to be mano e mano and I applaud him for that. You can really feel the mutual respect and friendship between he and Thompson.”

Riley: “Respect and friendship will just get you sleeping under a bridge with a bottle of Wild Turkey in your hand. Frost almost cost himself the match by jawing with Tom. He should be grateful he’s out here.”

TNT grabs Frost’s leg as he stands and spins to lock a figure four. Frost boots him with his free leg as he turns back around and TNT stumbles to the ropes. He bounces off and Frost rolls to a crouch and catches him with a shoulder to the breadbasket. TNT doubles over and Frost collars him in a front facelock as he stands. He glances over at Flesher before hooking the pants and snapping back with a DDT while lifting Thompson to impale his head into the mat!

Stevens: “ICE PICK! Frost might have put too much weight on that ankle, though. He’s slow to make the cover.”

ONE!






TWO!






THRE-

Stevens: “SHOULDER UP!”

The crowd gasps with relief as Thompson barely slinks his left shoulder off the canvas. Frost slaps the mat in disgust and slowly works his way up. He bends down to take TNT by the hair and turns him as he rises to jab his head between his legs. He pulls the arms up to under hook the elbows.

Riley: “I know it’s March, but TNT looks to be facing a very Early Winter. In like a lion, out on your ass.”

Frost scoops TNT up to lie against his chest. Frost grunts from lifting his heavy foe and one can see the ankle twist out from under him. This allows TNT to pry his arms free and he puts his hands on the back of Frost’s head as he falls. Thompson kicks his legs back out of the way and drives Frost face first to the turf!

BLAM!

Stevens: “The bad ankle allows TNT to counter the Early Winter into a face buster. He goes for the win!”

ONE!









TWO!








THREE-

Riley: “KICK OUT! KICK OUT! Do something Flesher! Grab a chair, here use mine!”

TNT looks over at Flesher who merely observes proceedings with a mysterious smirk. He knows he must keep an eye on the man, but need to focus the bulk of his attention on getting the win he feels at hand. He wastes little time in standing up and tugging Frost with him by the shoulder. He keeps him folded up and stretches over him to hook a waistlock.

Stevens: “TNT might be going for the Mushroom Cloud. A powerbomb adopted from Frost’s own and Taylor is one of the few men in the SWF today with the power to get him up for one.”

Before Thompson can hoist the monster, Frost dips his right shoulder down and bucks forward to catch him smack in the ribs! TNT shutters and releases his grip while taking a stutter step back. Frost keeps him stalled with a bruising uppercut to the pecs and takes his left arm by the wrist, stretching it out high to the side!

Riley: “TOUCH OF FROST!”

Stevens: “NO!”

Frost pulls back his fist as far as he can to jackhammer in the heart punch. TNT swirls his arm around to lock fingers with Frost and take control of the wristlock. He hauls off with a quick boot to the gut and Frost doubles over holding his stomach. Taylor quickly re-cinches the waistlock and flips Frost up against his chest. The strain of lifting a near 300-pound man is not lost on TNT, but the adrenaline is flowing and his mind can only scream one thought, “Watch out ELM, because you are going to watch me EXPLODE!”

Stevens: “MUSHROOM CLOUD!”

KA-BLAM!

TNT sits-out hard and they two men ricochet nearly a foot in the air from impact! TNT fights to make a pin!

ONE!









TWO!








THREE!

DING DING DING

The audience explodes like their hero for the night! Flesher slides in under the bottom rope and Taylor quickly makes his exit by slinking out the other side.

Funyon: “Here is your winner by pinfall, T…N…TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!”

Hebner hits the floor as well and lifts TNT’s arm in victory. He points at Flesher in the ring, who sits on his knees over the still out Frost.

Riley: “WHAT THE F*CK! AM I IN THE GOD DAMN TWILIGHT ZONE! TNT pins Frost!”

Stevens: “And cleanly at that. Flesher was at ringside, but made no move to assist his tag team partner.”

Riley: “Yeah…I wonder why he didn’t cheat?”

Stevens: “Like I said, Tom Flesher is a man of ulterior motives and I’m sure we’ll learn what they are here in due time. Until then, TNT recovers his confidence and keeps his title shot for From the Fire! It’s heating up in the SWF World Title scene and you better not miss a moment of it come Storm!”

TNT parades up the ramp still celebrating his victory. The camera cuts to Flesher in the ring still hovering over Frost. He lowers his head and a cocky sneer enigmatically graces his lips as the camera fades to black.
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Guest_TheBostonStrangler_*
post Mar 6 2003, 02:44 PM
Post #14





Guests






An IGNJL EUROPEAN CHAMPION








AN IGNWF LIGHT HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION







AN IGNWF TAG TEAM CHAMPION







AN IGNWF ICTV CHAMPION







THE GREATEST HARDCORE GAMERS CHAMPION IN IGNWF HISTORY








MARCH 2003







FROM THE FIRE








THE MOST VERSATILE CHAMPION IN IGNWF HISTORY RETURNS













FEAR HIM
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Guest_TheBostonStrangler_*
post Mar 6 2003, 02:48 PM
Post #15





Guests






Opening Promo - Tom Flesher speaks. A lot of the M7 speaks. Check it out now.

Judge Mental v. Fugue - Mental retains and other things.

CIA v. Michael Craven v. Johnny Dangerous - Craven wins. Huzzah.

Danny Williams © v. Ejiro Fasaki - Read this one.

Jay Dawg v. El Luchador Magnifico - Yet another tragic manatee accident marring the otherwise-spotless safety record of our fair company

Frost v. TNT - Another one to read on your own

Lots of promos in there too, so check those out as well. Sorry bout the lateness.
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