SWF SMARKDOWN!

April 15, 2003

The Smarkdown music fades away and the entrance promo is replaced by the decibel busting Pershin Centre! The camera takes the appropriate time to tour the arena, searching for signs, merchandise, and well endowed women. Shortly after, it focuses on the entrance ramp for the Pre-Smarkdown pyro.

BOOM

After the dazzling display of fireworks and explosions, 'Grand Slam' Mark Stevens takes his cue and begins his over excited shilling as he sits before his hometown crowd with Bobby Riley beside him.

Stevens: "IT IS TIME FOR SWF SMARKDOWN!!! We are LIVE from the hometown of Grand Slam... and folks, I'm just as excited to be here!"

Riley: "Let's go Penguins! Let's go Penguins!"

Stevens: "We aren't in Pittsburgh, Riley."

Riley: "Oh I beg to differ. This city is the pits!"

Stevens: "Watch yourself, Riley. That's my home town you are talking bad about."

Riley: "Who's badmouthing!?"

Stevens: "Whatever. Folks we have an awesome show mapped out for you tonight! We've got TNT and El Luchadore Magnifico going at it for a shot to determine who will be the number one contender to the SWF World Title! Speaking of title, the current holder, Tom Flesher will go one on one with a man who needs some Anger Management, Jamie Drazon. Anger Management has been in theatres for 3 days and is a very funny movie, I suggest you all watch it and..."

Riley: "Shut up you shill! Flesher is going to cream that hardcore maniac!"

No sooner then Riley finishes his sentence, the lights in the arena go out...

"THIS

IS

MAH

HOUSE!!!"

The pre-recorded voice of Jay Dawg gets a surprising pop from the hometown crowd. Moments later, the heavy beats of Rammstein's 'Du Haste' thunders over the speakers, followed by the crowd getting to their feet, and cheering for the Hardcore Maniac. Letting his music sink into the minds of the fans, Jamie Drazon steps through the curtains, his head down and hair not tied up, it dangles in front of his face. The ICTV title is firmly fastened around his waist. The crowd, still in a mixed state of mind, give him a loud ovation of cheers and boos. JD ignores their replies and begins to walk down the ramp, not pausing to look around, his hair still hanging in front of him.

Stevens: "The ICTV champion Jay Dawg, still getting a mized reaction!"

Riley: "I may like him another day... but tonight he goes up against Flesher... so he will get bitchslapped like the bitch that he is!"

JD coldly walks along the ramp, his head focussed directly inside the ring. He doesn't pause at ringside, instead rolling under the bottom rope. He stands in the center of the ring, unbuckles his ICTV title, and drops it in the center of the ring. He walks toward the ropes, holds his hand out for a microphone, receiving it rather shortly. He paces around the ring briefly, scratching his forehead under his dangling bangs. He pulls the microphone up to his mouth, pauses as he looks to the crowd, and then begins to speak.

Jamie: “You know… For a while now, I’ve been asking King to give me the Magnificent Seven. He did. He sent me Fugue, Williams, others along the way such as Dangerous and TNT. I thank him for it was worth it. But now, he has given me the ultimate prize. Since that little pussy ass, shit stained, wannabe tough guy but cries like a baby Chris Wilson ducked outta my site before I left last time. I have wanted to take on the man who replaced him, Tom Flesher. The Superior One. Heh. Well we will see about that. Flesher, we’ve met once before. On a technicality, you came out on top. But why don’t you come and face me tonight. There’s no Chris Raynor to pin this time.”

Stevens: “Drazon and Flesher have hooked up once, like he said, but that was about ten months ago. Both men have evolved tremendously since then!”

Jamie: “Flesher. I don’t like you. I don’t know what Brian sees in you. You’re a whiny, ass eating momma’s boy. Each time I hear you speak, I want to punch you in the face. You piss me off. Hell I haven’t met your mom, but she pisses me off because she brought you into this world.”

The crowd start to cheer, approving greatly as JD makes their thoughts vocal to all. However their thoughts are quickly changed as the attention turns to the SmarkTron. The SmarkTron goes white with the blue words "SUPERIORITY COMPLEX" "MAGNIFICENT SEVEN" and the most recent addition “World Heavyweight Champion” on it. Then, with an explosion of blue pyro, "Kashmir" by Led Zeppelin bursts out over the loudspeaker. The crowd begins to vocally show their displeasure as they curse their lungs out as Tom Flesher steps through the curtains in his polo shirt and jeans, the world title fastened around his waist. JD turns his head to the SmarkTron, annoyed and unapproving of the man coming out. Flesher grins at the top of the ramp, but decides to keep walking down the ramp.

Stevens: “Tom Flesher is interjecting himself into Jay Dawg’s microphone time! As if he doesn’t talk enough, Jay Dawg does not look happy to see him!”

Flesher strides down the ramp, letting the crowd get a good look at the Superior One. His hair neatly combed, he rolls into the ring, as JD continues to glare at him.

Riley: “We want Flesher! We want Flesher! We want Flesher!”

Flesher walks right past JD, giving him a nod and holds up his index fingerm letting JD wait a second, then rolls outside the ring again. JD doesn’t take his eyes off him, looking confused as is. Flesher steps by the announce table, holds out his hand, but he doesn’t need to request, as Bobby Riley pulls out a microphone and places it in his hand. Flesher passes it into his other hand and holds out his hand again. Riley passes him his cup of coffee. Flesher takes two sips of the warm beverage then walks toward the ring. He walks over to the ringsteps, walking up as he sips his coffee some more. Flesher takes one final sip then places the cup down and steps inside the ring.

Stevens: “Flesher seems to be stalling on his way to the ring!”

Riley: “He just likes to be comfortable.”

Stevens: “And what is it with you? You give the man his coffee now?”

Riley: “Ah great champion always needs proper pampering.”

Flesher steps inside the ring, walking to JD he pulls his mic back up.

Taamo: “Drazon. You sound stressed. You know, whenever I get upset, I like to go to the gym, lift a couple of weights, stretch the hell out of some rookies. Stuff like that. I don’t go around crying about people I dislike…”

Jamie: “No you run and hide from every asskicking owed to you…”

Taamo: “Did I say you can speak? Hello, world champion talking here.”

JD raises his head, his eyes opened and the crystal blue pierces the body of Flesher. JD coldly glares as he brings the microphone up, wiping the hair away from his face.

Jamie: “Watch it Flesher. All your boys are occupied tonight. You have no one to save your ass here.”

Flesher: “I don’t need any saving Drazon. Now like I was saying. The stress level in you is getting amazingly high.”

Jamie: “Yo, I’m about to release some stress kicking your ass. I know we ain’t the main event or anything tonight. But Thomas, whoever wins in this main event, whether it be TNT or ELM, you best hope they don’t choose me.”

Flesher lifts his head up, a smile apparent on his face.

Flesher: “You might be right. But Jay Dawg, I could make you tap like that.”

JD looks up, a menacing and determined grin on his face. The blue in his eyes are glowing, as he raises the mic back to his lips.

Jamie: “Well…why don’t you make me tap right now.”

With that, JD drops the microphone and steps up to Flesher. The crowd begins to cheer as JD looks down into the eyes of the world champ.

Stevens: “Jay Dawg and Flesher are about to go at it right now!”

Jay Dawg balls his fists up, letting his muscles flex as he encourages Flesher to take his best shot. The Superior glares back at him, his right fist balled up.

“HOLD IT!! CUT IT OUT!!!”

The booming loud voice of the Suicide King thunders over the P.A. system. Shortly after he steps through the curtains to a tidal wave of boos. A mic in his hand, and his face clearly not too happy. Neither Flesher nor JD look away as the commissioner stands at the top of the ramp.

“Both of you! Cut this out!”

With mutual agreement, they look up toward the ramp, separating from each other as they agree to continue this later. The commish continues from the ramp.

“Now Drazon. You asked for Flesher. I said if you can prove yourself, you can have him. You succeeded, I congratulate you. But that doesn’t mean you two fight now. Leave the ring Drazon.”

JD places his hands on the top rope, clenching it tightly as he glares at SK. He looks back at Flesher as the fans begin to boo.

“And by the way Jay Dawg. Don’t you forget. This match tonight does have disqualifications. Don’t do anything stupid.”

JD continues to glare at Flesher then lifts his hands in the air and waves away the world champ, muttering “Fuck it” to himself. The lip readers around the world are amused or offended, nothing specific. JD steps through the ropes and walks up the ramp as Flesher and King share a nod.

Stevens: “The Suicide King has called Jay Dawg away from Flesher!”

Riley: “No! He just saved Jay Dawg from a beating and humiliation that he won’t ever forget!”

JD curses to himself as he walks up the ramp, continuing to walk past the Suicide King. Flesher steps out of the ropes as we fade to a commercial.

April 15, 2003

Handicap Match

Beezel & Johnny Dangerous v. Xero

The office of Talent Realtions has been informed by hisdoctors that Mak Francis is not sufficiently recovered from post-concussive syndrome to wrestle a match tonight or anytime in the near future. The Commisioner's answer... "Too bad for Xero."

Rules: Standard Handicap Match, DQ and Count-out are in effect. Don;t forget the ever-popular Tag Ropes!! Beezel and Johnny must tag in and out during the match.

Word Limit: 5000

Send to: realitycheck

Singles Match

Kris v. Ejiro Fasaki

Well, the two brothers of Deja Vu have proven that might just have what it takes to hang with the big boys in the Tag Division, but tonight we'll see if they can match up in singles competition. First off, Kris takes on the Rule... pain to follow...

Rules: Standard singles match, DQ and Count-out in effect.

Word Limit: 4000

Send to: Grand Slam

U.S. Title Match

Michael Craven © v. Mike Van Siclen

Craven has been begging to defend his title in the last few days, and King agreed. MVS has been to Hell and Back in the HC division, so I doubt if this will be an easy night for either man.

Rules: Regular singles match, DQ and Count0Out in effect.

Word Limit: 5000

Send to: Suicide King

Singles Match

Kross v. Judge Mental (Hearford)

The other half of Deja Vu does battle with the infamous Judge. Will Judge acquit Kross or send him up the river (of pain)?

Rules: Standard Singles Match

Word Limit: 4000

Send to: chirs3

Non-Title Singles Match

Tom Flesher v. Jay Dawg

Could you ask for better than this? The ICTV Champ, Jay Dawg, fresh from an impressive win over TNT (albeit with Tod's help) goes one-on-one with the SWF World Heavyweight Champion Tom Flesher! The World Champ wanted a tune-up for his first Title Defense on Storm, but he might have gotten more than he bargained for here...

Rules: Standard Tag Match, DQ and Count-Out are in effect.

Word Limit: 5500

Send to: Suicide King

Non-Title No Escape Steel Cage Match

Frost v. Janus

This has been brewing for weeks and finally, Frost and Janus will square off in the STEEL CAGE!!! The hatred is just seething in these two and there is no way this will disappoint!

Rules: This is no ordinary steel cage. This one has cargo netting draped across the top to keep the violence contained. The only way in or out is through a small door, and the only way to win is by pinfall or submission. Other than that... anything goes...

Word Limit: 6000

Send to: Grand Slam

Main Event

Singles Match

"TNT" Taylor Nicholas Thompson v. El Luchadore Magnifico

The commisioner has ruled that these two will fight to determine who will get to name Flesher's opponent for his first Title Defense on Storm. One catch though... they aren't allowed to name themselves...

Rules: Standard singles Match, DQ and Count-Out in effect. Please send King a PM with your choice of opponent for Tom if you win.

Word Limit: 6000

Send to: Suicide King

April 15, 2003

Following a short commercial break, Smarkdown explodes onto the airwaves! The drunken Lincoln fans leap from their seats cheering wildly, spilling beer, and waving their many home crafted signs about! “Welcome to S W F Smarkdown!” exclaims ‘Grand Slam’ Mark Stevens as the camera’s make a final pan of the audience before settling upon the Commentator’s table. “We are coming at you live tonight from the SOLD OUT Pershing Center in Lincoln, Nebraska, and what a night it will be!”

“Pfft, we are in Lincoln, Nebraska. That alone is enough to make this the longest night ever... well until we get to see... Tom Flesher...” says Bobby Riley dreamily as he clasps his hands together and rest his chin against them.

“I think your chasing up the wrong skirt there, Bobby.” says Stevens, shaking his head in pity. “Anyway, we have what is sure to be a treat to kick of this evenings festivities. In just a few moments the team of Johnny Dangerous and Beezel, the mysterious new arrival to the SWF, will be taking on Xero!”

“What?!” Riley gasp in horror. “two on one? Where the hell is the fairness in that?”

“Well it’s a handicapped match.”

“Still, it isn’t fair to put Xero through so much. The poor man is trying to make his mark here, he doesn’t need to be cheated out of victory by those two ass clowns Johnny Dangerous and Beezel!”

“The playing field has been leveled out.” says Mark. “Xero may be at a numbers disadvantage, but Johnny Dangerous and Beezel must comply by the standard tag rules... tagging in and out, and so forth. All Xero has to do is keep one of them away from their partner long enough to secure a pin fall, and he will have a pretty good upset under his belt.”

“No matter how pretty you try to paint the picture, Mark, I still ain’t buying it. No way in hell! Xero deserves a partner just like any other man or woman back in the locker room!”

“If your so content on him having a partner, why don’t you hop on up there and give him a hand? I’m sure the Commissioner won’t mind.”

“I just think I might!” Bobby replies as he takes in a deep breath and puffs out his chest, but after a moment he deflates, eyeballing Mark Stevens with a rather cross look. “Wait a minute! You think I’m an idiot, don’t you? You would like for me to go up there so you can have this whole table to yourself, and make lewd and suggestive comments about me! Well, I for one am not falling for it!”

“Unless my memory fails me,” says Stevens, “It’s usually you making suggestive comments about Flesher or whoever! Your the one making an ass out of yourself on public television, I couldn’t possibly do you any worse.”

“Well,” says Riley, quickly trying to shift the conversation. “I for one am excited to get this one started, so let’s take it to Funyon!”

Standing in the center of the ring, Funyon shuffles through his cue cards then raises the microphone to his lips. “Ladies and Gentlemen! The following match will be a Handicapped Match!”

“Especially with Johnny Dangerous in the ring.” Bobby chimes in.

“Introducing first...”

Darkness consumes the arena as Megadeth’s “Trust” begins to pound from the speakers! Accented by a dozen red and white strobes, the beating of the drums begins to get louder, and louder, and louder, and then..

.

BOOOOOOMMM!!!!!

A wall of fire shreds through the stage, nearly ripping it from it’s foundation and knocking the fans back into their seats with it’s raw untamed power! Slowly, the fire begins to burn itself out revealing in it’s wake... Xero! Almost immediately, he strikes a pose, flexing his “massive” biceps to a sea of boo’s and empty beer cups.

“I don’t know what there problem is!” says Riley, “these people don’t know how to appreciate someone with the talent of Xero!”

“Weighing in at two hundred and ten pounds,” bellows Funyon, “and hailing from Port Colborne Ontario, Canada... Ladies and Gentlemen... I give you... XEROOOOO!!”

Seeing as how he has already eaten up quite a bit of air time with his elaborate entrance, Xero quickly scurries off to the ring.

“JOHNNY DANGEROUS!”

The voice of the sexiest woman alive sings out his name, immediately followed by the theme to “Mission Impossible II” thundering across the arena as the crowds let out a marvelous cheer! Fans hoping to get a closer look at the debonair Secret Agent, quickly flock to the barricade near the stage, snapping up rolls of film as the man himself swipes away the curtain and steps out onto the stage!

“... And his opponent! Weighing in at two hundred and twenty pounds, and coming at you from seedy Las Vegas, Nevada.... JOOOOOOHNY DANGEROUUUS!!!!”

Johnny stops at the top of the stage, raising his arm out to the crowds and receiving a tremendous pop for his efforts. Lowering his arm, the Barracuda’s eyes settle upon the ring where Xero stands hunkered down staring a hole right through him, and winks at his opponent for the evening.

"I'll bring home the turkey if you bring home the bacon...."

Rivers Cuomo's voice sings out as a layer of red pyrotechnics explode on the entrance ramp igniting a huge pop! The distorted voice of the mysterious Beezel singing right along with the song rings out just before the man himself slides out onto the stage.

“I'm a lot like you, so please, hello... I'm here... I'm waaaaaiting.”

“I think I'd be good for you, and you would be good for me!”

“And his partner! Weighing in at two hundred and five pounds, and hailing from Phoenix, Arizona... BEEZEEEEL!!!!”

Beezel lowers his microphone as the song begins to fade into the background and walks up side by side with Johnny Dangerous. The two exchange a quick game plan, turning their heads towards the ring every now and again, nodding while grinning from ear to ear.

“Oh, come on!” moans Riley, “they just think they are so damned funny. I pray to God, Xero hands both of them their asses on a silver platter!”

“I bet you would like that.” replies Stevens.

“What, ass on a platter?”

“No... Oh, God... never mind.”

As the two finish up their plan and begin heading towards the ring, Xero stands upright and spits over his shoulder then backs up, beckoning the pair to challenge his might. Referee Matthew Kivell places himself in front of the eager Xero, pushing him back with his arm as Johnny takes flight to the ring, thrusting his arms into the air for another pop while Beezel claims the outside ring apron.

“It looks like Johnny Dangerous is going to be starting off the match for his team.” says Stevens as the Barracuda steps towards the middle of the ring. “I’m actually pretty anxious to see these two wrestle each other.”

“Yeah, watch how quick Xero mops up the floor with Johnny.”

As a gesture of good sportsmanship, Johnny sticks out his hand towards Xero while extending a warm smile as Kivell begins to run down the obvious rules of the match up. Xero stares down at the hand, almost appalled by the motion then grits down on his teeth, rears back...

... and SLAMS his fist into Johnny’s kisser!

WHAM!!

Kivell quickly jumps back and quickly signals for the bell, while Johnny, caught by total surprise, is knocked one hundred and eighty degrees to his left, stumbling for a few steps before dropping to one knee!

DING! DING! DING!

“... and this match is officially underway!” shouts Stevens. “Xero making his presence felt with a tremendous blow to Johnny to kick start this match into high gear!”

Johnny quickly dabs his finger across his lip checking for blood, then satisfied to find none doubles up his fist and lunges to his feet. He pivots himself on one leg as he spins back around towards Xero, wildly swinging out his fist, but with the upper hand already in his corner Xero easily leans back, avoiding the blow and quickly drops his toe into the Barracuda’s gut! “Oof!” Holding tight to his stomach, Johnny doubles over gasping for air, unable to defend himself as Xero grabs him by the back of his head and jumps up, thrusting both his knee’s into the Barracuda’s face!

WHACK!!

Like a well aired basketball, Johnny’s head rockets off of Xero’s knee, and the Secret Agent is knocked back a good foot, falling to the mat for the first time this evening!

“Xero with a Double Knee Lift to Johnny Dangerous,” says Stevens, “and the fans aren’t too happy about it either!”

“The hell with the fans!” snaps Riley. “They just want to see Xero get smacked around like a red headed stepchild, but UN-UH! No, Sir! Xero is not about to become their doormat as he is proving here tonight!”

Back inside the ring, Xero takes a step back from the fallen spy and thrusts his arms high into the air, in a display of pure dominance. The crowds boo heavily, while Beezel hanging on the outside apron, smacks his hand against the turnbuckle, cheering Johnny on.

“Does he actually think the crowds are going to get behind him?” Stevens ask, shaking his head in wonder.

Dismissing the crowds with a wave of his hand, Xero then drops for a cover, and Kivell makes the count.

ONE!!

TW.. NO! Quickly throwing his arm out, Johnny breaks the count just before two!

“Damn that Dangerous!” says Bobby with a annoyed slap to the table. “Xero had him beat to a pulp, but he just has to try and get the last word in doesn’t he!”

“Well,” replies Grand Slam, “he obviously wasn’t beaten too bad or he wouldn’t of kicked out there.”

“You know, your really starting to piss me off and we are barely into the evening.”

With a handful of the Barracuda’s slick black hair, Xero slowly drags him to his feet then whips him towards the far ropes. Johnny hits the ropes and springs off of them, seemingly out of it and totally under Xero’s power, which leads to Xero himself, cockily slinging out his arm for a clothesline...

WOOSH!!

... Johnny Dangerous ducks under the arm, and blazes for the opposite ropes, causing the fans to suddenly hold onto their seats in anticipation! Rocketing off the ropes, the Barracuda flings himself into the air... and drives his elbow into Xero’s forehead just as he spins around, looking to see where Johnny went!

WHAM!!

Instantly, the audience explodes with a resounding cheer as Xero is knocked to the mat with a force to be reckoned with, while Johnny rolls to his feet, and dives towards Beezel with an extended hand!

Smack!

“The tag is made,” says Stevens, “and Beezel gets his chance to try and put the ball back in his teams corner.”

“Please, Mark.” retorts Bobby. “any man who comes down to the ring in a red body suit with flames painted all over it, obviously rode the short yellow bus to school. Xero is not about to loose a match to someone like that!”

“He did on Lockdown.”

“....”

Bursting through the ropes like a rabid dog cut loose from it’s chain, Beezel makes a beeline straight for Xero! The man without a partner, however is oblivious to the oncoming bulldozer. Picking himself off the mat while holding tight to his battle wound, he looks up just a fraction of a seconds before Beezel viciously slams his arm across Xero’s pencil neck, seeing nothing more than a flash of red before a total blackout!

WHAM!!

The force of the blow knocks Xero right off his feet, flipping him completely backwards before landing flat on his face with a tremendous thud! Beezel floats over to his fallen opponent and drags him to his feet before he can recover. With tremendous speed he steps behind Xero and snakes his arms up and through his opponent's, cinching in a full nelson. El Scorcho then lifted his opponent up in a feat of strength and dropped backwards, driving Xero's unprotected head hard into the mat!

"HOLY ****! HOLY ****!" chants the crowd.

"Beezel didn't forget what happened on Lockdown, going straight back to the area he softened up," says Stevens.

"I hope Xero remembers and stops the flaming moron from doing any more damage to his pretty face," says Riley.

Xero crumples to the canvas but still finds the energy to slowly roll himself to the outside. Beezel strides over to drag him back in but the referee holds him back. Having restrained El Scorcho, the official begins to count.

"ONE!" shouts the ref.

"Xero looks very hurt, and Beezel wasted no time in attacking that head and neck area!" exclaims Stevens, "I don't know if he can get back up from that..."

"TWO!"

"Nonsense! Xero is tough! Xero is hardcore! Xero is..." says Riley.

"Justice?" interrupts Stevens.

"THREE!"

Beezel shows his impatience by running to the ropes behind the referee's back... and leaping over the top rope before he could be stopped! The crowd emits a loud gasp of shock as Beezel flips over the ropes, landing backfirst on the recovering Xero! Both men crumple to the mat as the referee continues his count.

"FOUR!"

"What an insane suicide dive over the top!" exclaims Stevens, "I wonder if Beezel cares about himself after that attack!"

"I often wonder why I care about these matches at all," rebuts Riley

"Oh please, you know you can't resist muscular men in tights. Stop whining," counters Stevens.

"SIX!"

El Scorcho rises to his feet but staggers once he gets there. He reaches down to pick up his opponent who is now halfway underneath the ring from the awkward impact.

"SEVEN!"

Beezel gets enough gumption to lift Xero enough to roll him back into the ring, breaking the official's count. Xero struggles to get to his feet as Beezel rolls in. The high flyer gets to his knees and looks up... to catch a kendo stick shot to the face! The referee signals for the bell but the chaos doesn't stop because Johnny Dangerous steps through the ropes and tackles Xero before he lands another blow to his partner...

DING!

Xero shrugs Dangerous off his back and sends another kendo shot to him as well! He turns to give Beezel his... but gets a swift kick in the gut instead! The shock of the blow forces Xero to drop the weapon, which gets snatched up into the hands of Beezel!

"Uh oh... looks like El Scorcho is looking to give Xero a bit of his own medicine!" exclaims Stevens.

Beezel holds the kendo stick behind him, readying to swing the weapon... but then drops it and instead decides to pull off the flaming tights of Xero! The crowd begins to laugh at the scene while Beezel twists around and sends a vicious back kick right into his opponent's torso! Xero is driven back, falling through the ropes and tumbling to the concrete floor. Beezel helps Johnny D to his feet and raises his hand in victory, prompting Ted Pollack to play "El Scorcho".

"Your winners, at five minutes and fourty six seconds, by way of disqualification," says Funyon over the arena's PA system, "JOHNNNNNNY DANGEROUS... AND BEEEEEZEEEEEEL!"

"Xero loses his cool which loses the match for him," says Stevens, "leaving Dangerous with another tag win and keeping Beezel undefeated as well."

"What do you expect? It was two on one and incredibly unfair from the start. Suicide King should put this under review!" exclaims Riley.

"It seemed like a fair call to me..." says Stevens.

Beezel and Dangerous stand on the ropes, beckoning for Xero to return to the ring, but the angry bald man continues to walk back to the ring, holding his head in his hands. Beezel dismisses him with a wave and turns to Dangerous. Both men lock hands and raise them high in the air in victory, garnering applause from the crowd.

"An odd match to start with but we're still warming up!" exclaims Stevens, "So stay tuned, for more S! W! F! Smarkdown!"

April 15, 2003

SWF Smarkdown returns from commercial to the harried scene of a shaky camera zooming down a hall with a man holding a microphone out in front.

“Ben Hardy here,” the announcer says between breaths “we’ve just received word that some sort of altercation is going on in the Magnificent 7 locker room and are heading there now!”

Hardy hangs a sharp right and comes upon a slightly ajar door with a marker reading “Magnificent 7” on it. Hardy pushes the door open and the camera focuses on a bevy of referees and officials standing in the middle of the room trying to keep a powder keg of tension from exploding. On one side, SWF World Champion Tom Flesher and his new top enforcer Janus. On the other, former Flesher flunky Frost!

“Get that son of a bitch out of here!” Flesher points and screams at Frost as two men in three-piece suits push him back.

“I just want to talk to Janus.” Frost states evenly, trying to keep his cool.

“I have nothing to say to you. I do my talking in the ring.” Janus points out toward the arena and the fans can be heard booing in the background.

“Get that son of a bitch out of here!” Flesher yells once again, getting more frantic.

“He’s using you Janus, using you like he used me.” Frost points at Flesher while referees plead with Frost to just leave the room.

“I’ll use your face for a punching bag! Get the hell out of our locker room!” Flesher dives at Frost, but the officials catch him around the chest and hold him in place.

“You’re not a part of this anymore, Frost.” Janus says flatly, the officials keeping a weary distance from him. “I’m the main man in the Mag 7 now and your lies won’t shake me. I’m going to kick your ass tonight, not because Flesher orders me too, but because I want to.”

“I don’t want that son of a bitch anywhere near me.” Flesher groans. “I’ll get a restraining order. I’m the f*cking World Champion, you can’t treat me this way.”

“Just listen to me Janus, I want to help you because I’m a lot like you. I’ve been in your shoes.” Frost implores. The cameraman is nearly getting whiplash swishing back and forth between the action and men talking.

Janus’ eyes narrow and he stares at Frost with barely contained anger. “Don’t…you…ever…say that…I’m…like…you!”

Janus lets out a primal scream and charges through the host of much smaller men with his arms out. Frost brings his hands up and attempts to fend Janus off without fighting. Everyone gets between the two giants and try to force Janus back. Frost is moved toward the door by the wave of bodies.

“You’re a dead man! You hear me, Frost, you’re a dead man!” Flesher’s screeching voice rises over the scene, as the cameraman and Ben Hardy are force back into the hall as well. Frost stares through the doorway at the rampaging bull of Janus. He throws up his hands and stalks off down the hall. He can barely be heard muttering, “I tried…lost cause.”

Ben Hardy trails after the Velvet Hammer, “Frost, Frost, can we get a word?”

Frost stalks off not hearing the announcer. Hardy realizes he won’t get a word with him and heads toward the locker room. Janus can be seen punching a locker with a heavy clang while Flesher forces the group of men out of his personal suite raving, “Everyone out! And keep that f*cker out of here from now on!” Flesher goes to slam the door, but Hardy shoves his face in the way.

“Tom Flesher, do you have any words about this clash for the fans?” Hardy shoves the mic in his face.

Flesher looks at the camera then down at Hardy. “Screw off, nerdlinger!” Flesher backs up a step and slams the door shut.

Hardy stands looking at the shut door perplexed and the hectic scene fades out.

April 15, 2003

The image on the Smarktron flares into life showing the large cargo doors of this famous arena. A large beast of a man stands in front of it wearing a SWF Security shirt complete with the blue logo. He has a large bandage on his forehead and spits venomous fluid onto the floor.

Stevens: “What’s Mr. Dratch doing there?”

Riley: “He’s there to stop Neilsen from showing up tonight! Didn’t you hear the threat last week? Neilsen promised he’d deliver action tonight and he’s not one to go back on his word…well…most of the time at least.”

Mr. D looks around the cargo bay and then turns to look outside for the Hardcore King. He stands around until…

…the song “La Bamba” starts to play from his cellphone. After quickly staring down any who dare snicker at such a thing, he finally answers.

Mr. D: “This is Dratch.”

Guy on the Other Line: “…”

…you can’t hear the guy on the other line! It’s not a speakerphone!

Mr. D: “Yeah, I’m here boss. No, that little bastard ain’t shown up yet and trust me, his bitch ass don’ wan’ none o’ this. Yeah…he got me last week…but this week…he’s goin’ down. Trust me. There’s no way I’d ever let that living, breathing pile of fecal matter get past me!”

A limousine pulls up and the crowd goes wild!

Mr. D: “Boss! I’ll call you later!”

He snaps the phone shut, runs to the door which opens and…

“DUDE, we are SO going to win single matches tonight!”

…skids to a stop as he sees Kris and Kross walk out.

Kris: “Man, I can’t believe it! We TOTALLY got a limo!”

Kross: “I know! DUDE, it SO TOTALLY rocks!”

Kris: “TOTALLY.”

Kross: “TOTALLY.”

Kris: “DUDE?”

Kross: “DUDE.”

Kris: “High five!”

Kross: “DUDE!”

The two brothers leap and slap hands to a loud cheer from the audience. They look at Mr. D and quickly say…

Kris: “Dude, we don’t need a valet.”

Kross: “DUDE…he’s security!”

Kris: “Oh.”

Kross: “Yeah. So…if you could watch our ride, it’d be greatly appreciated.”

Kris: “Yeah. I don’t trust our driver. (Whispering) I think he’s French.”

Kross: “NO WAY!”

Kris’ face grows very serious as he looks to his twin brother and says…

“DUDE.”

Both men walk away as Mr. Dratch is fuming. He picks up his cell, hits speed dial and says…

“It wasn’t him.”

April 15, 2003

“Aww Naw, Hell Naw, Boy”

“Y’all done up ‘n done it.”

“Aww Naw, Hell Naw, Boy”

“Y’all done up ‘n done it.”

:Stevens: Welcome back…SWF Smarkdown! Live from Lincoln, Nebraska!! And what a night it’s been, eh Bobby?

The “Aww Naw” rock remix by Nappy Roots blares over the speakers, and the fans begin to pop as search lights pan the arena bowl. Sooner, rather than later, the lights spotlights find him, and he pushes through crowd, bobbing his head to the music.

:Riley: Ummmm…there’s only been one other match Mark.

:Stevens: And it was great! Right?

:Riley: Sure, I guess…

Directly across the ring, on the other side of the bowl, he also pushes through the crowd, looking exactly like his counterpart across the way. The fans, while not going completely nuts, have definitely taken a liking to these two, and are making it known as they push towards the ring.

:Funyon: The following contest is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first…weighing in at 209 pounds and accompanied by his brother Kross…From Las Vegas, Nevada…He is one half of Déjà Vu…KRIIIIIIIISSSSSSSS!!!

The brothers of mediocrity take to the ring, and slap hands with one another with the crowd giving them the exact response they were hoping for.

:Stevens: We’ve got a solid match up next as Kris from Déjà Vu takes on Ejiro Fasaki.

“Sellout” by Biohazard interrupts the twins’ music, and it cues booing from the audience while at the same time, drawing Ejiro Fasaki out to the stage. Fasaki stops on the stage and takes a look around, and not even seconds later his partner in crime, Judge Mental steps out onto the stage behind him.

:Funyon: And his opponent, weighing in at 188 pounds and accompanied by “The Judge” William Hearford…From Sarasota, Florida…He is one half of the SWF Tag Team Champions, Justice & Rule…EJIIIIIIIIIRRROOOOOOOO FAAASSSSSSAAAAAAAAAKKKKKKKKKKKIIIIIIIII!!!!

Ejiro leads the way down the ramp, and slides into the ring, where he walks over to the left side ropes, climbs onto the middle rope, and throws his arms in the air…

BOOM!

Referee Sexton Hardcastle comes to the middle of the ring, and points the non-wrestling tag partners towards the ring exits. Kross shouts out to his brother as he exits the ring on the far side, while Hearford gives his partner a pat on the shoulder before exiting the ring on the near side

DING DING DING

:Stevens: And here we go…

:Riley: {sigh}

:Stevens: What’s your problem now?

Stevens looks up from his monitor and sees Kross heading towards the announce table, meanwhile, Kris goes to the center of the ring to meet Fasaki with a huge grin on his face.

:Stevens: It looks like we’re being joined by Kross here at our announce table…

:Riley: Dammit. This is truly horseshhhhhh…Hey Kross!!

:Kross: Dude…I can’t believe that I’m about to sit at the announce table with Mark frickin Stevens. This SO rocks!

:Stevens: Why thank you Kross, I’m flattered.

:Kross: Who’s this guy?

:Stevens: That’s Bobby Riley…he’s…ummmm…uhhhh…well, he’s nobody.

While Kross gets himself situated at the announce table, Judge stands by the near side of the ring, watching intently. Inside the ring, Kris extends his hand to Fasaki.

“Dude…what’s up.”

Ejiro stares at Kris’s hand, with a look on his face as if to say, “This is going to be easier than I thought.”

:Riley: Mark! Don’t spread lies to the young man. Kross, my name is Stubby McWeed, and I actually run this entire federation.

:Kross: Ummmm, dude. You’re name tag says Bobby Riley, announcer.

:Riley: You know how it is Kross. I have to be incog…incog…ummmm…inconsequential!

:Stevens: It’s incognito you dumbass.

:Riley: I know what it is. Stop trying to show off in front of Kross.

Fasaki looks back to the Judge to see exactly what he should do in this situation.

“Dude, I just wanna wish you luck in the match brah. We’re gonna do so good tonight, AND…I think said that we might could get a world title shot after this. Well, only me…but I’m sure one day you’ll be good enough to deserve that.”

Fasaki laughs at the remark, and takes Kris’s hand in a friendly fashion…

…but then pulls Kris right into a skull shattering reverse roaring elbow!!!

:Stevens: Wait just a second! Fasaki just hit that Screaming Elbow right into Kris’s head, and down he goes!!

:Riley: Never, ever trust your opponent…that’s like rule number 1 in professional wrestling.

:Kross: Oooo! What’s rule # 69?

Kris lays on the canvas holding his head as, while Fasaki falls back into the near ropes, laughing his ass off. Hearford, on the outside, shares in the good time at Kris’s expense.

:Stevens: Uhhhh…

:Riley: Ummmm, I’m pretty sure there’s no rule # 69…mainly because saying something is rule #1 is…A FIGURE OF SPEECH YOU IDIOT!

:Kross: Dude…settle down. It’s not that serious. There’s no need for namecalling.

The Judge urges Fasaki to finish taking care of Kris, so they can take care of the other business. Fasaki walks over to the now rising Kris, and lifts him up by his hair before giving him several forearms to the face to keep him at bay. Fasaki pushes Kris to the far ropes, and whips him to the near ropes, but, much to Ejiro’s surprise, Kris holds onto the near ropes to refrain from rebounding.

:Kross: Dude…that was SO a good move! Way to go brah…kick his ass!

Kris, feeling very confident after his “smart” move to prevent Fasaki’s offensive maneuver, starts to smile and point to his head. However, as he walks away from the ropes, Hearford reaches under the ropes, from the outside, and trips the twin, who falls face-first to the canvas.

:Riley: HAHAHAHAHA!

:Stevens: BOBBY!!

:Riley: What? It’s funny.

:Stevens: Please, try and at least pretend that you’re a professional.

Judge burst into laughter on the outside, Fasaki chuckles on the inside, but the fans boo Justice & Rule’s tactics. Hardcastle reprimands Judge, who throws his hands up in innocence, still laughing to his heart’s content. Fasaki walks casually over to Kris, who gets to all fours, more embarrassed than hurt. When Fasaki gets close, Kris explodes up to his feet, and goes right for Ejiro’s midsection with a brutal, devastating…

:Riley: Tickle?!? A Tickle?!? What is it with you boys and that move?!?

:Kross: Uhhhh…

:Riley: HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

While Kross reaches over and tickles Riley, Fasaki is taken all the way back to the far ropes by unwanted, uncontrollable laughter, which continues until Fasaki pushes Kris away. The fans laugh along with Kris in the ring, who seems to be having a great time in there, but Fasaki doesn’t look as happy.

:Kross: See, works don’t it?

:Riley: Maybe so, but it’s professional wrestling, not a 6 year old birthday party!

:Stevens: I do believe it was you who always says anything to get an advantage, right?

:Riley: Shut up Mark, and help me defend the dignity of our sport!

Stevens just laughs at Riley, as he remains upset, but inside the ring Fasaki has some choice words for Kris, who stands in the middle of the ring. Fasaki starts towards Kris, who still seems to be enjoying his tickle maneuver.

“Dude, you like that one don’t you? I’ll show you how to do that one day.”

Fasaki ignores Kris’s invitation, and instead, locks the twin up in a collar & elbow tie up that drags both men around the ring a bit.

:Stevens: Ok, ok…how about we focus in on this match, because so far, we’re missing it. Collar & Elbow tie up…

Kris maneuvers Fasaki into a side headlock, but he is quickly shoved off towards the left side ropes, where he rebounds towards a waiting Fasaki. As Kris approaches Ejiro, he notices the tag champ bending down, so he instinctively leaps over him and heads towards the right side ropes. Kris heads back towards Fasaki, who turns around in plenty of time to perform a leap frog of his own over a ducking Kris. Fasaki lands and begins running as well, bouncing off the right side ropes from which Kris just rebounded, while Kris now rebounds off the left side ropes.

:Kross: Dude??

Kross whips out a pad and paper at the announce table, meanwhile, Kris and Fasaki barrel towards each other at an alarming rate. At the last second, Fasaki pulls up and jumps into the air knee-first, and his knee strikes the running Kris directly in the nose, sending the wealthy heir down!

:Riley: What’s wrong Kross, a little confused over there?

:Kross: Dude…I’m SO gonna have to ask my brother to show me how to do that stuff.

:Stevens: That was a certainly an impressive sequence by both men, but Fasaki came out with the upper hand from the sequence, and now looks 100% more focused than he did to start this match.

Kris goes down holding his face, but Fasaki doesn’t allow recovery time for the Las Vegas native as he quickly moves back over and begins to lay into Kris’s face and head with stomps. Then, if not only to make the fans boo a little bit more, Fasaki pulls down the pad on his knee and drops that bare knee onto Kris’s face!!

:Riley: Maybe you should ask Ejiro instead.

:Kross: Dude!! That’s such a good idea! Thanks Bopsie!

:Riley: It’s Bobby…

:Kross: Yeah, well, I’m Kris, and you’ve SO been calling me Kross this whole time. You don’t see me complaining, brah.

:Riley: Huh?

:Stevens: How can that be? Kris is in the ring.

:Kross: Dude…I think I know who I am.

Riley and Stevens nod in confused agreement, just as Fasaki lifts Kris up to his feet and whips him to the…NO…Kris with the whip! Fasaki bounces off the far ropes, and when he returns, Kris wraps his arms around Fasaki’s neck and swings around to the back of his adversary, locking on a Sleeper Hold!!

:Stevens: Well..Kris…uhhh…Kross…uhhh…wait! Kris with that Sleeper Hold!! Or Kross! Or Kris! Dammit!

:Kross: Dude! He used it! I told him he should use it!! Brah…that looks SO good! YOU GOT HIM BRAH!

:Riley: Wait…who the hell are you??

The unfortunate thing for Kris is that Fasaki is not Janus, and thus isn’t falling for this maneuver like Janus did a few weeks ago. Instead, before Kris can fully lock in the sleeper, Fasaki quickly drops to his knees, causing Kris’s jaw to slam onto the top of Ejiro’s head!

:Stevens: Ohhhh! Looks like your brother had it there for a minute, but Fasaki had the move scouted.

:Riley: Seriously, I’m very confused right now. Who are you, and who’s in the ring?

:Kross: Hahahahahahaha!

Kris snaps back up to his feet holding his jaw, and he does not see Fasaki jump to his feet. Ejiro quickly throws his foot towards Kris’s head to take advantage, but, again running on instinct alone, Kris catches Fasaki’s foot. Ejiro hops about for a moment before throwing his free foot up towards Kris’s face, this one connecting clean!

:Stevens: Kris almost had him there, but Fasaki with the heads up move there and connecting with that Enziguri.

:Riley: Dammit Mark! Aren’t you at all concerned about who’s who??

:Stevens: No.

:Riley: What?? Why not?

:Stevens: Because it’s very obviously that he’s just messing with you Bobby. WAIT! Fasaki with the cover!!

ONE!

TWO…

:Stevens: NO! Kris kicks out at two!

:Riley: Screw both of you.

:Kross: Hahahahaha. Dude…you need to chill brah. Here, have a beer.

Kross pulls a beer from somewhere (it doesn’t matter, the camera’s not on him) and cracks it open; meanwhile, Fasaki lifts Kris to his feet once more. He quickly puts the lightweight into a front face lock, and snaps him over to the canvas with a suplex.

:Stevens: Ejiro Fasaki with a snap suplex on Kris, and he’s firmly in control now.

:Riley: Hey! Where’d you get that from?

:Kross: Does it matter? You want it or not brah? Cause if not, I’m SO gonna drink it.

:Stevens: COVER BY FASAKI!

ONE!

TWO!

:Stevens: NO! Kris with the kick out again.

Fasaki takes a moment to look at the referee, but without much ground for argument, he opts not to say anything. Instead, Fasaki gets to his feet once again, and pulls Kris up again. Kris, seeing this match slipping away from him quickly, quickly delivers a hard punch to Fasaki…right into his funny bone!!!

:Stevens: But back comes Kris now!! A shot to the funny bone??

:Kross: Dude…GULP…do you know how long we worked on that move brah??

:Stevens: A punch to the funny bone? Well, whatever works I guess.

:Riley: I can’t believe this passes off as wrestling.

Fasaki shakes out his arm, but is unable to avoid the standing dropkick from Kris, that sends Ejiro back towards the near ropes. Kris jumps back up and pushes Fasaki against the near ropes before whipping him to the far ropes…NO…revered by Fasaki! Kris rebounds off the far ropes and heads towards Fasaki, who doesn’t expect Kris to leap into the air, and connect with the Cross Body Press!!!

:Stevens: Cross Body from Kris!! He’s gaining momentum…COVER!

ONE!

:Kross: GO KROSS!

TWO!

:Kross: Dude…he’s SO gonna win!

:Stevens: NO!! Fasaki kick out, but that’s gotta be a moral victory for Kris!

:Kross: Dude?? How cool would that’ve been if he would’ve won there?

:Riley: Dude…that would SO be uncool…coughlosercough

As Riley mocks, both men return to their feet, Kris a bit more quickly this time, and it is that quickness that allows him to get a thumb to Fasaki’s eye. Ignoring the Hardcastle’s scorns, Kris grabs the staggering Fasaki, scoops him up, and slams him with a thunderous, bone-crushing, absolutely brain-rattling…

:Kross: SCOOP SLAM!! How awesome was that?!?

:Riley: God, this is so lame!

Kris jumps up from the slam, and pumps his fist to the crowd, who respond with cheers. Kris points to his brother…

“You the man!”

…and leaps up to the far right turnbuckle!

:Stevens: And Kris is going up top! Could he be looking for that Déjà Vu splash?!?

Unfortunately, the world will never know, because from left side of the ring comes William Hearford. The Judge hops up on the apron, and gives Kris a shove, causing the twin to go sailing outside…

WHAM!

…headfirst into the crowd barrier!!

:Kross: Dude??

:Stevens: Oh come on!! That’s not right!! That damn Judge Mental just pushed Kris off the turnbuckle!

“One more time Judge! One more time and you’re outta here!”

The referee starts to yell at Judge from inside the ring, and Hearford just throws his hands up again, but with a huge smile on his face.

:Kross: Dude!

The fans at home hear static as Kross throws his headset down on the table, while Hardcastle continues to scold the Judge, which distracts Judge Mental enough for…

BAM!!!

…Kross to slam his shoulder right into Hearford’s abdomen with a vicious Gore!!!

:Stevens: DOUBLE TAKE!!! KROSS JUST TOOK OUT JUDGE WITH THAT HUGE GORE HE CALLS THE DOUBLE TAKE!!

:Riley: Woo!! Go Kross!!

:Stevens: Huh?

:Riley: What? It keeps him away from here.

Kross jumps up, leaving Hearford in serious pain on the floor, and for the first time since their arrival, Kross is visibly pissed off.

:Stevens: Looks like Kross took exception to Hearford’s tactics, and took the law into his own hands.

Hardcastle motions Kross to back off, and the twin obliges, heading back to the far side of the ring, but not returning to the announce table. Fasaki rolls out of the ring after Kris, and reaches him just as Kris is rising to his feet. The fans nearby have angry words for Fasaki, who grabs Kris by the hair while the referee counts. Fasaki goes to slam Kris head first into the barrier, but Kris gets a quick elbow to Fasaki’s gut, and instead slams Ejiro’s head onto the barrier!

:Stevens: Kris turns the tables!!

Judge has crawled back to the near side of the ring, and Kris brings Fasaki back into the ring, but not before slamming his head onto the ring apron. However, instead of following Fasaki into the ring, Kris instead scales the far right turnbuckle, much to the fans’ delight.

:Stevens: And Kris is heading back up top!

:Riley: Hey, I’m just glad that moron finally left. He’s so damn annoying.

:Stevens: Welcome to my world.

:Riley: Huh?

:Stevens: Nothing.

Kris waits, and finally he sees what he’s looking for, which is Fasaki rising to his feet. Fasaki stumbles, and Kris takes flight…

…turns his body as to make a cross with Ejiro’s body…

soars…

through…

the…

air…

…AND FASAKI GRABS HIS ARM AND PULLS HIM TO THE GROUND!!

:Stevens: COBRA CROSSFACE!!! EJIRO GOT THE CROSSFACE LOCKED IN! WHAT A REVERSAL BY EJIRO FASAKI!!!

Across the ring, Hearford is very pleased, as Fasaki grapevines Kris’s arm and pulls back with a cobra clutch! The fans boo and Kross tries to rally his brother to the ropes, but all Kris can do right now is scream out in pain!

:Riley: He’s gonna tap! I just know it! He can’t withstand the Cobra Crossface!!

:Stevens: Kris is close to the ropes, maybe he can get them!

Kris stretches with his free arm, but is mere inches from the ropes.

“Do you give up Kris??”

“AHHHHHHHH!!!!”

“Tap bitch!”

“AHHHHHHHHHH”

“Come on brah!”

The tension is high, and it looks as if Kris is going to tap out. His hand rises off the canvas, and he lowers it to a position centimeters above the canvas. The fans look on in horror as Kris takes a long blink and lowers his hand even more…

:Stevens: That’s it…it’s over! He’s gonna…YESSSSS!

:Riley: Damn!

Stevens’s declaration is rather premature as Kris, instead of tapping the mat, makes a lunge and grabs a hold of the ropes!!

:Stevens: By Gawd…he got there! Kris got to the ropes!

“You the man brah!”

The fans erupt for Kris’s final attempt to stay in this match, while Hardcastle interjects himself and tells Fasaki to release the submission. Fasaki stares at Hardcastle with hateful eyes, while the fans scream for Fasaki to obey the referee and release the hold.

:Stevens: Release it dammit!!

Fasaki shakes his head “no” to the referee, who consequently begins to count. 1…2…3…4…5…and Fasaki lets go, leaving Kris to lie there grasping the ropes. Fasaki gets to his feet and gives Hardcastle a piece of his mind, leaving Kris to try and pull himself to his feet using the ropes.

:Stevens: Finally! Fasaki releases the Cobra Crossface, but the damage may already be done to young Kris, who looks to be in bad shape here.

Judge calls out to Fasaki from the near side of the ring, and Ejiro discontinues his argument with the referee, grabbing Kris by the hair and pulling him to his feet. Ejiro, seeming highly displeased, yanks Kris by the arm and whips him to the near ropes…NO! Kris, out of desperation, reverses the whip, and sends Fasaki to the near ropes!

:Stevens: Irish whip…reversed!! Kris sends Fasaki to the ropes…

Kris, as tired as he may be, lunges in for a very rare clothesline, but Fasaki, the fresher of the two, ducks it with ease, and heads for the far ropes. Fasaki rebounds and heads towards Kris, and once upon him, Fasaki leaps up for a lariat…that Kris ducks!!

:Stevens: Clothesline ducked…lariat ducked…

With Stevens calling the shots, Fasaki stumbles upon landing, but continues to run, bouncing off the near ropes again. This time, however, when he rebounds, Kris grabs him, spins him, and…

WHAM!!!

…plants him to the canvas with a hard Spinebuster!!!

:Riley: Damn! These kids get so freaking lucky!

Kris’s opportunity is very short-lived as he can no longer keep his feet. He staggers over Fasaki and falls down opposite him, such that Kris is close to the far ropes and Ejiro is close to the center of the ring.

:Riley: Whew! Thank goodness Ejiro kicked his ass the whole match cause now Kris can’t make the cover.

As one would expect, this brings about Hardcastle’s mandatory ten count…

ONE!

:Stevens: Now this is a race to see who can get to their feet first!

TWO!

:Riley: It’s gotta be Fasaki…he’s still fresher.

THREE!

:Stevens: Maybe so, but don’t doubt the heart of this kid.

FOUR!

:Riley: What the hell?!? Get him down from there!

Riley’s objection is to the fact that Kross jumps up onto the apron and attempts to enter the ring. As he has been all match, Hardcastle is all over it, and immediately goes to stop Kross from entering the ring.

:Stevens: Hardcastle has been working hard this match to maintain order, and he’s done a fantastic job of it thus far.

Across the ring, Hearford sees an opportunity, with the ref engaged with Kross, to slide into the ring, and the rally from the crowd quickly turns to boos. However, much to Judge’s chagrin, Kross jumps down off the apron, and the referee turns quickly to see Judge grabbing Fasaki by the arm.

:Stevens: HA!! You got caught!!

“Didn’t I tell you one more time and you’re gone?’

Hardcastle scolds Judge as the two head for the near ropes…

“You’re gone! Get outta here. NOW!”

…and the cheers begin to erupt from the crowd. Kross slides back into the ring, but instead of performing a maneuver on the vulnerable Fasaki, Kross instead pulls his brother Kris out of the ring and to the floor.

:Riley: Wait a second!!

Kross then gets back in the ring and lays down next to Fasaki, who soon thereafter starts to rise.

“Look! Look at them!!”

“No…you’re gone!! Out!”

Judge slides out of the ring, but doesn’t appear to be leaving ringside…until he is met from behind by several referees that came from the back.

:Stevens: And now the striped crew will escort Judge Mental outta here!

:Riley: This is crap!! Hardcastle let Déjà Vu cheat!! They freaking switched!!

Fasaki staggers to his feet and sees his partner being escorted away, while Judge attempts to warn Fasaki of the twin switch. Judge, however, is too far away to be heard, and Fasaki decides to move in to finish the job. Ejiro turns to Kross (posing as Kris), who is still on the ground, and goes to lift the twin by the hair…

:Stevens: GOT HIM!! SMALL PACKAGE!!!

Sure enough, having not used any energy thus far, Kross shoots out and wraps Fasaki up in a Small Package!

:Stevens: THIS COULD BE IT RIGHT HERE!!!

:Riley: This is just not fair dammit!!

Hardcastle runs and slides into place while Fasaki kicks and screams trying to escape!

ONE!

Fasaki pushes and kicks…

TWO!

…trying to escape…

THREEEEEEEEE!!!

…and he does…

DING DING DING!!!

…just a hair too late!!!

:Stevens: HE DID IT!! IT’S OVER!

:Riley: But it wasn’t the right twin!!!

Kross, hearing the bell, immediately rolls out of the ring and grabs his brother Kris. The two, with Kross carrying most of the weight, dart towards the ramp while Fasaki jumps to his feet and begins screaming and yelling at them as they leave.

:Riley: You saw what happened! Don’t try to deny it!

:Funyon: Your winner…KRRRRIIIIIIIIIIISSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!

Kris, just realizing that he won, looks stunned, and the two begin to jump up and down on the ramp, slapping hands and bumping chests.

:Riley: This is outrageous! You better believe I’ll be showing this tape to King first chance I get. We can’t have people switching in the middle of a match.

:Stevens: Maybe so, but Kris and Kross just did it, and they’ve got the win here tonight!

:Riley: Oh, you just wait until Kross has to go against Judge later! He’s gonna pay for this.

:Stevens: We’ll see Bobby…we’ll see. But for now, a huge win for team Déjà Vu, and they’re loving it.

The fans scream as the twins celebrate on the stage and Smarkdown heads to commercial.

April 15, 2003

Mr. Dratch is shown backstage once more by the cargo doors looking into the building. A white Pontiac Bonneville pulls up behind him. Riley shouts…

“Is it Neilsen!?!”

CUT TO COMMERCIAL

April 15, 2003

SWF Smarkdown rolls back into Lincoln, Nebraska, both ometown of the one and only “Grand Slam” Mark Stevens and Bobby Riley’s least favorite vacation spot. Scanning the arena, several signs are visible, including “Flesher > You”, “King 3:16 says ‘YOU’RE SUSPENDED!’”, and ““. It finally comes to rest on the (in)famous SWF announcers, sitting as usual at ringside.

Stevens: We’re here, right in my hometown, for SWF Smarkdown!!! It doesn’t get any better than this!!!

Riley: I always thought you were from Planet Dorkus...

Stevens: The Pershing Center is alive tonight, several exciting matches already having taken place!!!

Riley: Why the hell are we even here? What have these people done to deserve a show? Have they built a shrine to Tom Flesher and/or our great Commissioner Suicide King? I don’t recall seeing any one mile-high statues of The Gambling Man downtown...

Stevens: ...And the whole time you’d be looking at King’s-

Riley: -King’s majesty and greatness as the unworthy bow before his granite feet.

Stevens: Whatever you say, Bobby. But next up, we’re in for a great US Title match!!!

Riley: Finally!!! We get to see Michael Craven, the man who may be the greatest US Champion since our new World Champion, Tom Flesher!

Stevens: Craven stunned the SWF with an upset of Mak Francis to win the US Title, then putting the Franchise on the shelf, but now, he faces off against the young, exciting Mike Van Siclen! You might want to get a tape out, folks, because this is sure to be a great match!!!

The four quick cymbals and even quicker guitar riff that begins “Damage Done” by Dark Tranquility blasts throughout the arena, as the lights go out and blue strobes begins to flash in time with the music. Mike Van Siclen steps onto the ramp, his arms extending in a bent crucifix under his acid-green jacket. He spins around the on the ramp, grinning like a madman as he breaks out of his spin cycle and steps cockily down the entrance ramp. This cues Funyon, who stands in the ring, microphone in hand:

Funyon: The following is a standard singles match for the SWF US CHAMPIONSHIP!!!! Introducing first, hailing from Harrison, Illinois, weighing in at 237 pounds... MIKE VAN SICLENNNNNNNN!!!

Van Siclen makes his way down to the ring, sliding into the ring and extending his arms to the side, dropping his arms and letting his jacket slide off and to the mat. The referee, hassled, picks it up, as Mike motions with his hands for the crowd to give him more boos. But instead, they cheer MVS, not exactly what he expected.

Stevens: Mike Van Siclen comes off a tough loss, and it looks like he might still be suffering from the suplexes he took at the end of the match!

Riley: He’s just weak. He can’t take the pain, so he fakes an injury.

Suddenly, Van Siclen notices his music fading and the lights dimming as all goes silent...

“BOOM-BOOM BOOM... BOOM...”

The lights totally cut out, the crowd begins to boo like crazy, and the announcers just shut up for a sec. Strobe lights pulse to the beat of the guitar in the background 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. 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, shiny SWF US Title wrapped around his waist. 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. His two belt girls follow him down the ramp, Craven not taking time to pose with them tonight as he reaches back, and unhitching the title from his waist, hands it off to one of the women to carry down for him while he walks down the ramp in a half-strut, like the cocky SOB that he is.

Funyon: And, from Tampa, Florida, weighing in at 280 pounds... he is THE SWF US CHAMPION... ladies and gentlemen, will you please welcome...

Crowd: BOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Funyon: ...MICHAEL CRAAAAAAVEN!!!

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 does a Steiner-like flex with his biceps, smiling as the crowd continues to boo him. Mike then hops off the turnbuckle, walks across the ring to another turnbuckle, climbs this, and repeats the whole thing, hopping off the turnbuckle as he focuses his attention on the opponent, pointing to MVS as he makes a throat-slitting motion with his other hand.

Riley: You gotta love that!!! Craven is confident!

Stevens: A bit too confident, if you ask me...

As Craven finishes, he hops down and smiles happily. MVS looks very ready, motioning Craven to bring it as Thompson holds the title up before he hands it off to the timekeeper. After determining both men are ready, Thompson steps back and signals for the bell...

DING DING DING!!!

Stevens: And we are under way!!!

Craven and Van Siclen quickly begin circling each other, Craven lunging in to fake the collar and elbow tie-up, then quickly returing to circle. Van Siclen follows suit, both men anticipating the other to jump the gun. MVS lunges in again, but as he reaches out to grab Craven...

“SMACK!”

Craven unloads a huge bitchslap across Van Siclen’s face, sending a loud cracking sound echoing through the arena as the crowd jeers. MVS turns away, caught by surprise, but he turns and takes another step forward. He goes for another tie up just as Craven winds up, and...

“SMACK!”

...Unleashes another slap pulling his hand back, to reveal a visible red handprint across Mike’s cheek. The US Champion’s smile grows a mile wide as Van Siclen staggers back, but Van Siclen regains his composure and lunges forward. Suddenly, the two men throw down in a collar and elbow tie-up. Each man scrambles greatly for leverage, feet firm against the ground, but a sudden burst of power from Craven knocks Van Siclen back. The hold is broken, MVS landing back first against the turnbuckle. He quickly pops out, and the two men once more tie-up, with the same result. Mike lets out a small, unnoticeable grunt as his back hits the turnbuckle. MVS yet again hops out of the turnbuckle, readying for a third collar and elbow tie-up. Craven steps forward as MVS moves towards him, swinging his arm forward as he tries for a clothesline. Van Siclen, though, ducks, stepping behind Craven before he wraps his arms from behind Mike in a waistlock. Before Craven can be suplexed, though, he fires off two quick elbows, allowing him to escape the lock, and spinning around, throws a knee into MVS’ chest. As he doubles over, Van Siclen feels two arms envelop him from behind, holding him firmly in place. He leaves his feet and lands on top of a pair of shoulders courtesy of Michael Craven, who steadies himself for a powerbomb, until MVS flips over in mid-move, landing behind Craven, but before he has a chance, he hooks Craven’s arms and drops to his knees, throwing the US Champion backwards into a backslide pin!

One-

Craven flips himself forward, landing on his knees as he escapes the pin.

Stevens: Quick work by Mike Van Siclen in an effort to wear Craven down!!!

Riley: A lariat does not equal “wearing someone down”! Craven’s just going to let MVS wear himself out trying to hit all these moves, and when the time comes, he’ll roll right over him!

Craven gets to his feet, quickly grabbing hold of the arm of Mike Van Siclen and whipping him to the ropes, but MVS reverses! Craven flies to the ropes, bounces off them, and comes flying back... right into a lariat!!! The imapct throws Craven off the mat before he comes crashing back down, the Lincoln crowd cheering for MVS!!!

Stevens: MVS still on the offensive early on in this match-up!

Craven gets to his feet, crawling back into a corner as MVS here and there stomps at him. Craven tries to signal MVS to stop, but the Spectacular One refuses to give in as Craven crawls back to the corner. Suddenly, Craven lunges out, throwing himself on the ropes as MVS continues to stomp at him, but Timmy Thompson quickly intervenes, forcing MVS to back off and let Craven regain his senses. The crowd boos and taunts the cowardly Craven who in response signals his displeasure with them using a single finger. MVS complains with referee Timmy Thompson, trying to plead his case as he and Thompson argue...

...before Craven rushes in and takes out MVS with a huge forearm shot! Not the high power forearm smash Craven loves using, it still takes MVS down to the mat, allowing Craven to step over MVS, and grabbing him around the chin and arms, lifts him up as he sits back into a camel clutch!!!

Riley: He’s got the camel clutch locked in!!! MVS is gonna feel the pain!!!

Riley’s joy is cut short, though, as Van Siclen reaches out, grabbing hold of the ropes and forcing a quick rope break. Craven doesn’t seem pleased either, at first not releasing the hold, but after another demand by Thompson that he let go, Craven does, making sure to slam the Spectacular One’s face into the mat as he lets go. Craven immediately begins to stomp away at the head of MVS, but before he can really get into a groove, Thompson forces him back, allowing Van Siclen room to breathe and get up.

Stevens: Thompson is forcing Craven back as Mike Van Siclen rises slowly up to his feet...

Riley: Get out of the way!! Let the champ have a shot at that punk!!!

Craven makes his move, quickly grabbing hold of the arm of Mike Van Siclen as he rises and whipping him to the ropes, but MVS reverses! Craven flies to the ropes, bounces off them, and comes flying back, right into the arms of Van Siclen. Mike clutches Craven across his chest, quickly spinning around before he drops, to the mat and executes an amazing powerslam!!!

Stevens: Powerslam by Mike Van Siclen! Here’s the cover!!!

One!!!

Two!!!

Kickout by Craven at two! Van Siclen argues that Craven was down for three, but the ref only holds up two fingers. MVS shakes his head as he grabs hold of Craven, punching him as he pulls him to his feet.

Stevens: It’s been all Van Siclen so far! He looks to be ready to ascend to the US Title!!

Riley: Don’t you dare count Craven out!!! He’s just waiting for the right moment to strike!

As Van Siclen pulls The Nightmare up, Craven shuffles his feet, forcing MVS to move in between Craven and the ref. With Van Siclen blocking the ref’s view, Craven drives his knee into Mike’s groin! as Van Siclen doubles over, Craven applies a front face lock on Van Siclen, lifts him up, and drops back, executing an inverted DDT that shakes the ring!!

Stevens: Inverted DDT from Craven-

Stevens is cut off as Craven gets to his feet, still grasping Van Siclen in a front headlock. He stomps the mat before he pulls Van Siclen backwards sharply, lifting him up and back with a Chris Benoit-like snap suplex!! A small thud is made as the Spectacular One hits the mat on his back, but both he and Craven are quick to get back to their feet... except that Craven pulls MVS back to his feet, where he once again stomps the mat before he pulls Mike backwards sharply, lifting him up and back with a Chris Benoit-like snap suplex!! A small thud is made again as MVS is dropped again, but an angered Craven pulls MVS back up, still in the facelock. Craven grabs Mike's near leg and hooks it before he lifts MVS and falls back into a fisherman’s suplex! Craven keeps the leg hooked as the ref drops down to count the pin.

One!!!

Two!!!

MVS kicks out before three!!! Craven doesn’t believe it as he releases the leg, getting to his feet before he pulls MVS up. He quickly unleashes his fury with several knee strikes to the head, then a boot to the chest, but MVS grabs the boot, blocking the kick! However, Craven hops and jumps into the air, swinging his foot into the back of Mike’s head, knocking MVS back down with an enziguri!

Stevens: Hard enziugri from Craven, both men to the ground, and here they come, right back up on their feet!

As MVS and Craven get to their feet, The Nightmare rakes the eyes of Van Siclen, causing the chalenger to fall to the mat, grabbing his face. Timmy Thompson interveens, yelling at Michael Craven, but Craven claims he didn’t do a thing, backing away with both arms in the air.

Stevens: Come on, Craven’s been blatantly cheating the whole match!

Riley: Thompson is being too aggressive!!! Craven’s not doing anything wrong!!! He’s playing by the rules!

Thompson turns his back for a second, and that’s when Craven retaliates, rushing in to deliver a hard kick to Van Siclen’s head. MVS cries out before Craven starts stomping into Mike’s head, the crowd jeering at The Nightmare for his cowardly acts.

Riley: Don’t you boo this man for taking advantage of a good situation!!!

Stevens: HE’S CHEATING RIGHT OUT IN THE OPEN, DAMMIT!!!

Riley: “Cheating” is a subjective term. One man’s definition is not the same as another man’s!!

Thompson continues to scold Craven as he pulls MVS to his feet, but The Nightmare stops listening as he spins MVS around and locks in a full nelson. He then takes off, sprinting for a short distance before he bulldogs MVS to the mat!

Stevens: Full Nelson Bulldog from Craven! He’s starting to kick the crap out of Mike Van Siclen!!!

Riley: I’m glad we finally agree on something, Mark!

Van Siclen’s face hits the mat hard, and he stays down as Craven rolls him over, getting back to his feet. The crowd still shows resistance, and in an attempt to purposely rile them up, he places his foot on top of Mike’s chest and flexes his muscles, a cocky grin across his face as Thompson counts:

One!!

Two!!!

...Kickout by MVS!!! The crowd cheers while Craven’s leg is thrown off MVS, but Craven quickly stomps the challenger in the side of the head, placing one foot on MVS’ throat, the other on his chest and flexes his muscles, a cocky grin across his face as Thompson counts again:

One!!

Two-Thompson stops the count as he sees Craven’s boot across the throat! Craven raises his arms in protest, but Thompson refuses to count. With MVS lying on the mat, Craven decides to keep Thompson busy as he drops down and grapevines MVS’ arm with his legs, locks his hands across Mike’s face, and pulls back, locking in a-

Stevens: CROSSFACE!!! CROSSFACE ON MVS!!!

Van Siclen’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 as Craven taunts:

Craven: Tap out!! Tap out, you little bitch!!!

Craven laughs as MVS keeps reaching for the ropes... reaching... reaching... until he barely clips them with his fingertips! Thompson sees this, starting with a five-count, but an angry Craven breaks the hold before Thompson reaches five.

Stevens: Craven trying for the crossface, but he couldn’t keep it on for very long!!!

Riley: Still, Craven’s got him right where he wants him, Mark...

As Craven pulls Van Siclen to his feet, following the latest move, he grins, but not for long, as MVS grabs Craven by the back of the head and drops down into a sitting position, nailing Craven with a sitout jawbreaker! Craven is thrown back by the blow as Van Siclen slowly rises to his feet, still woozy after all the blows he’s taken. Now, it’s his turn as he gets to his feet, staggering a step before he regains his composure as the crowd cheers. Craven still grabs onto his head as Van Siclen grabs the legs of Craven, Spreading them before he jumps in between, forcing Craven’s legs apart with a double leg wishbone!!!

Riley: THAT’S A LOW BLOW!!! DISQUALIFICATION!!! HIT HIM RIGHT IN THE GROIN!!

Stevens: Come on, Bobby!!! That’s crap! Craven was blatantly cheating at the beginning of the match! He even hit Van Siclen witha low blow early on!!! And you accuse MVS of cheating?

Riley: I don’t accuse... I STATE that Van Siclen just cheated!!!

Craven cries out in pain, lucky the focus of the move is not the groin area, but he still rolls over, the ref trying to help up Craven as MVS runs back to the ropes. The Spectacular One flies off them while Craven uses the ref to support himself, Thompson checking on The Nightmare’s condition. As Craven gets up, though, MVS charges from behind, leaping into the air and thrusting his legs out, hitting Craven in the back of the head with a dropkick! the move sends Craven flying forward towards the ref, and using it as a guise, he adds in a little push, knocking Thompson back through the ropes, off the apron, and to the outside of the ring!

Stevens: Look out!!!

“THUD!” Thompson lies on the ground outside, right near the announcer’s table, grabbing his head after falling out of the ring, Craven landing on the ropes and slowly turning to confront the recharged Van Siclen!

Riley: Whoa!!! MVS just unintentionally dropkicked Timmy Thompson to the outside!!! Dumbass.

Stevens: Looks more like Craven might have shoved him, Bobby.

Riley: Nah. It’s as simple as Craven hit the ref because MVS dropkicked him, so Craven’s not at fault.

Stevens: I don’t know...

Riley: Look, I’m right. We’ll leave it at that.

Craven takes a breather, resting on the ropes as MVS begins to get back up. His face shows the first signs of exhaustion, but he’s far less exhausted than Van Siclen. MVS is on his knees as Craven turns around, wanting to cut off his momentum quickly, but Craven walsk right into Mike’s trap, MVS grabbing Craven around the ankles with his own ankles as the crowd pops for a drop toe hold!!! The electrified crowd throws their support behind Van Siclen as Craven trips up and goes face first into the mat, the hold released as both men quickly get to their feet, The Spectaular One taking a bit longer than expected.

Stevens: MVS with the drop toe hold!! Neither man is giving quarter here!!! It’s an all-out fight to the finish!!

As both men get to their feet, Craven lets out a ferocious cry, and lunging forward, swings his arm for a monstrous clothesline!!

But Van Siclen ducks!!!! Craven’s lunge allows MVS to trip him up, sending Craven back face first to the mat again! As Craven lands on the mat, Van Siclen decides it’s time to give Craven a taste of his own medicine, and quickly, he grapevines one of The Nightmare’s arms with his legs, locks his hands across Craven’s face, and pulls back, locking in-

Stevens: CROSSFACE!!! CROSSFACE ON MICHAEL CRAVEN!!! THE NIGHTMARE’S SIGNATURE SUBMISSION IS BEING USED AGAINST HIM!!!

Craven cries out, reaching out for the ropes that are too far away for him to possibly grab! Craven continues to scream in pain as MVS mocks his earlier comments:

MVS: Tap out!! Tap out, you little bitch!!!

As MVS taunts Craven, though, The Nightmare, pulls his free arm up, and reaches back, punching Van Siclen in the face! The blow causes the hold to be released as the two Mikes separate, remianing down for a second before they attempt to get up.

Stevens: And Craven breaks out of the crossface!

Riley: That illustrates a very important rule: Always know how to break out of your own moves!!

Stevens: But the damage may already be done!!! Van Siclen is for once getting up faster than Craven!!! He might have the Gulf Coast Hurricane at a disadvantage!!!

The Nightmare slowly gets to his feet, just in time to get a knee thrown into his back. MVS grabs him around the head from behind, and spins quickly, dropping Craven down into a sharp Roll of the Dice!!!

Stevens: RUSSIAN ROULETTE FROM MIKE VAN SICLEN!!! CRAVEN’S DOWN AND OUT AGAIN!!! THIS COULD BE IT!!!

Van Siclen rolls Craven onto his back, slowly covering him and hooking his leg, as the crowd counts out loud...

ONE!!!

TWO!!!

THREE!!!!!

But there’s no ref to make the count!!!! MVS looks around for Thompson, only to see him crawling onto the apron, in no condition at this point to make a count as he is still dazed from the fall!!!! MVS gets up off of Craven, hands against the sides of his head as he looks up in despair, not believing he had just had the US Title in his grasp as Craven stirs behind him.

Stevens: OH MY GOD!!! VAN SICLEN HAD THIS WON!!! HE SHOULD BE CHAMPION!!!

Riley: Too bad!!! Van Siclen screwed himself when he dropkicked Craven into the ref!!! It’s his own fault!!! And look at that! Craven’s recovering!

Stevens: Bobby, he’s so dazed from that move, it looks like he’s drunk!

Riley: Well, that’s... ummm... a secret technique!!! He’s tricking the opponent!!!

As a woozy Craven gets to his feet, the crowd still on their feet, Van Siclen spins around, attemping to kick Craven with the heel of his boot, but Craven ducks, grabs MVS, lifts him ono his shoulder, and slams MVS to the mat with an out-of-nowhere backdrop driver! He grabs hold of MVS, arching to hold him in place as Thomspon slowly recovers, crawling towards the two men.

Riley: BACKDROPPAH!!!!

Stevens: Backdrop driver!!! That’s a page out of Flesher’s book!!!

Thompson weakly lifts his arm up to make the count as Craven screams at him to start counting...

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!!!!!!!

UNTIL MVS KICKS OUT!!!!

The crowd cannot believe it as MVS kicks out just milliseconds before the three-count... and neither can Craven as he spouts off just about every obscenity known to man in his anger at Thompson’s counting.

Stevens: OH MY GOD!!! WHERE DID MIKE VAN SICLEN FIND THE ENERGY TO KICK OUT?!?! I Thought for sure that this match was over!!!

Riley: It’s not Craven’s fault!!! Blame the damn ref!!! He counted too slow, just like Craven says!!! Maybe not with that many cuss words... but Craven’s got the idea!!!

As he gets to his feet, the irate Michael Craven drags Mike Van Siclen near the center of the ring and pulls him up off of the mat, applying a standing headscissors. As he looks out into the crowd, the US Champion raises his right arm and brings it across his throat in a menacing gesture.

Riley: This is it!!! He’s gonna seal the deal for sure this time!!!

Craven wraps his arms around Van Siclen’s waist and lifts him into the air, but MVS wiggles around just a bit, gaining freedom as Craven lifts him up! He lands on Craven’s shoulder, and sliding down it, rolls once before he hooks Craven’s arm falling to the mat as he drags Craven down onto his back with an arm drag!!!

Stevens: WHAT A COUNTER!!! MVS escaped the grip of Michael Craven and rolls down into an arm drag!!! Both men are getting up a little slow, but this is anyone’s match now!

As Craven gets to his feet, Van Siclen quickly grabs him around the head, the Spectacular One spinning around like the Eye of the Hurricane and grabbing Craven by the hair, forcing his face into the mat with authority!!

Stevens: CODE RED!!! Craven’s down, and he’s rolling the champ onto his back!!! But wait!!! He’s not pinning him at the moment!!! I think he knows he doesn’t have Craven worn down yet, and he’s going to finish him off with whatever he’s got planned next!!!

Riley: I don’t like the looks of this...

MVS staggers over to the corner, and grabbing onto the top rope, slowly pulls himself there as Craven remains down on the mat, reaching the top as the crowd’s cheers grow louder.

Stevens: He’s gonna fly off the top rope!!!

Turning to face Craven, Van Siclen signals to the crowd...

Stevens: Here it comes!!! HERE IT COMES!!!

...And he leaps from the top rope, flipping back as he flies out into a shooting star frog splash...

Stevens: SICLEN’S GAMBIT!!!

Riley: NO!!!!!!

...

...Except Craven suddenly comes to life and rolls out of the way!!!!

Stevens: OH NO!!! LOOK OUT!!!

“THUD!” The crowd gasps as MVS hits the mat on his face and chest, rolling onto his back immediately as he cries in pain. Both men lie down on the mat as the crowd boos loudly at Michael Craven, who is slowly sitting up. His palms press against the mat as he tries to stand up, slipping once or twice before he finally gets there.

Stevens: I can’t believe he missed!!!

Riley: He risked it all... and blew it!!! He should have gone for the pin, but he wanted to try and be fancy!!!

Stevens: God, but look at MVS!!! He’s trying to get up, though he’s barely able to stand!!! The kid’s got guts!!!

Riley: Or a lack of intelligence...

As MVS staggers to his feet, Craven grabs him for a scoop slam, but lifts him onto his shoulders. However, Craven positions Van Siclen 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 MVS into the move, rotating him around like Brock Lesnar, but MVS 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: GULF COAST CRUNCH!!! Craven executes most likely his most powerful move!!

Riley: THAT’S IT!!! IT’S OVER!!!

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

Stevens: God... not like this!!! Don’t let it end like this!!!

Riley: YES!!! YES!!!

ONE!!

TWO!!

THREE!!!

DING DING DING!!!! The crowd bursts into boos as Thompson springs to his feet, claling for the bell and the belt.

Funyon: The winner of this contest by pinfall, AND STILL SWF US CHAMPION... MICHAEL CRAVEN!!!

Stevens: God dammit!!! Craven’s still US Champion!!! MVS should have won this, but he got screwed!!

Riley: Get the hell over it. The better man won!

“Cochise” kicks up in the background as Craven gets to his feet, ripping the title from Thompson’s hands and holding it close to his chest like a mother with her newborn baby, staring at it with that evil grin on his face. He then turns to look down at MVS, and grabbing MVS by the head, holds the title up to his face, screaming like a lunatic.

Craven: YOU WANT THIS?!?! YOU WANT THIS?!?! YOU’RE GONNA GET IT!!!

Craven drops the title down, the belt’s faceplate lying up as he grabs hold of MVS by the hair. He quickly unleashes a punch into MVS’ head to keep him down, then snaps Van Siclen up onto his feet.

Stevens: Stop it, Craven!!! You’ve proven your point!!!

Mike Van Siclen is drawn up as Craven ducks down, sliding Mike onto his shoulders. He then holds him there for a second before adjusting his position and smiling at the booing crowd.

Stevens: NO!!! DON’T DO IT!! DON’T DO IT!!

Then, with a tremendous amount of force, Craven swings MVS over his right shoulder, Van Siclen’s head lodging between Craven’s legs as Craven jumps in the air before he sits down, dropping MVS head first with a Samoan driver onto the belt!

Riley: WHOA!!!

“THUD!” A thunderous sound echoes through the arena as MVS’ head is driven into the belt, the crowd gasping and booing as Craven sits on the mat, releasing Van Siclen. The blow was enough to scrape and scratch open Van Siclen’s head, blood slowly oozing from the forehead of the laid-out challenger.

Riley: That was great! That was awesome!!! That was-

Stevens: Totally unneccessary!!! Damn you, Craven!! Damn you and your egotistical pride!!!

Riley: For God-errr-King’s sake, Mark... stop being a whiny bitch and shut up!!! Craven is the next evolution in wrestling, the next big thing in the SWF, and you just can’t accept that!

Stevens: As much as you can’t accept the fact that you’re gay.

Riley: Well, I... uhhh... I... ummm... DAMN YOU AND YOUR TRICK ANSWERS!!!

Craven, standing on his feet now, pulls the title out from under MVS, hositing it high into the air as the crowd jeers him, the imposing image of Craven standing over the defeated MVS taken with us as we fade to commercial...

April 15, 2003

Mr. Dratch runs towards the vehicle and a man with long brown hair, a leather jacket and sandals steps out from the car. Mr. Dratch shouts…

“Neilsen!”

The man turns, revealing his neckbrace and the fans cheer as they see…

Wildchild!

WC: “Neilse’! Wha, do ya’ t’ink dat everyboody wit’ long ‘air an’ sandals is da Jungle Kin’? I com’ back from a devastatin’ injury and dis is the reception I receive? I canna’ belive dis. I get treated so poorly by ou’ boss dat…”

Mr. D: “Poorly, he gave you so many title shots and #1 Contender shots that…”

WC: “I got dose because I deserve’ dem. Neilse’ may e’en be righ’ aboud dat. Maybe we aren’ getting’ whad we deserve. Now ged oudda’ my way. I hav’ frien’s to see.”

The fans cheer as Wildchild passes Mr. Dratch. The big man merely stares at this superb cruiserweight and mutters…

“Shit.”

He looks to his right and-behind him!

The crowd explodes!

Mr. Dratch just missed seeing Neilsen walk into the building!

April 15, 2003

“Well, this is certainly a mismatch we have coming up here,” says the welcoming voice of Mark Stevens as we come back to the Pershing Center, chock-full of cheering fans, “The veteran ‘Judge Mental’ is facing off against a massively inexperienced Kross here in a singles match, and I don’t think the odds are favoring Kross here.”

“Oooh, how I do love squashes,” Bobbie Riley chimes in, happily rubbing his hands together, “Kross hasn’t wrestled in a singles match yet, and he’s going against one of the most distinguished up-and-comers in a long while.”

“The Judge is a 2-time SJL World Champion as well as a very successful Hardcore Champion and is in the midst of a Tag Team Title reign as part of the Justice and Rule.”

“And don’t forget, these guys are undefeated in straight tag matches.”

“This is a singles match, though…”

“The following match is for one fall! Entering first…”

Rage Against the Machine’s “Sleep Now in the Fire” plays as the words “JUSTICE” and “RULE” flash on the SmarkTron. The screen changes to 3 second clips of the team hitting their signature moves, cheating, and various other things while the heavy guitar sets in…

POPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOP

Red pyros shoot up in machine gun bursts while William Hearford, the infamous ‘Judge Mental’ steps out in front of the crowd with his Tag Team Title belt, and his partner steps out onto the ramp at his flank, his tag belt in hand as well.

“Weighing in at 242 pounds and hailing from Royal Oak, Michigan… ½ of the Tag Team CHAAAAAMPIONS and being accompanied by EJIRO FASAKI…. ‘THE JUDGE’ WILLIAM HEARFORD!”

Grand Slam sighs and mutters, “I was wrong, this IS a tag match…”

The Judge rolls into the ring and goes over to his corner with Ejiro, and the two wait for their opponents to enter the ring.

“And entering second…”

The Rock remix of Awnaw’s “Nappy Roots” hits the PA and the arena goes dark as spotlights crisscross the crowd. The camera pans away, looking for the two misfit brothers, and two small parts in the crowd can be seen moving along, revealing the positions of the rookies. The two jump over the guard rails on either side of the ring and slid in, meeting up in the center.

“You da man, brah!”

“No, you da man!”

They pat each other on the back before running to opposite turnbuckles, flashing “Thick as Thieves” signs to the crowds with their hands… but are pulled right down by Justice and Rule, who start pounding them with fists and elbow shots! Kivell, utterly stunned by the attack of the two, quickly calls for the bell to start the match.

*DING DING DING*

“This is despicable! The real thugs in there are Justice and Rule,” comments Grand Slam.

“Oh, this is even better than squashing them!” squeals Riley.

But the two don’t stop, and Matt goes over to try and pull Hearford off of Kross. He pulls his shoulder hard and yells at him to stop, but the Judge pushes his hands off his shoulder, and goes back to punch Kross again…

WHACK!

The crowd goes wild as the young kid levels an uppercut right to the jaw of Hearford, knocking him right backwards in the ring. He connects more punches, the crowd getting louder with each blow, and finally Fasaki takes notice and rushes over to help, and nails Kross right in the head with his Title Belt, laying him out! Kross hits the ground like a sack of bricks to a throng of boos, and the two tag champs turn around to see the dazed and confused Kris begin stumbling out of a corner. The two recognize what to do instantly with evil grins on their faces, and Ejiro quickly goes over, picking up Kris and throwing him into the air, where the Judge brings him down with a massive DDT!

*DING DING DING*

“Gavel Bang! Gavel Bang!” shouts Riley while Funyon comes over the PA.

“The winner of the match through disqualification by interference… KROSS!”

The two get up off the ground, where Kris lays down twitching, and Ejiro points down to Kross, and makes a few gestures before Hearford picks him up and puts him in a standing headscissors. He pulls up the member of Déjà Vu into Powerbomb position, and Ejiro wraps his arm around Kross’s head. He twists around as the Judge throws Kross off him, and the two land on the mat, nailing an elevated Testdrive on the smaller brother!

“Overruled! This is just great!”

“I can’t believe they are doing this!” says Grand Slam as the pair of pricks roll out of the ring, leaving the two laid out on the mat. Ejiro grabs a mic from the table and speaks as he and his partner walk up the entrance ramp.

“Just wanted to make sure you remember what a real beatdown feels like,” he chuckles as the crowd yells for him to get out, “Just wait until we see you in our Tag Title match.”

“We both look forward to teaching you a lesson in losing, boys,” says Hearford, taking the mic away for a moment, “But don’t worry; we have plenty more tricks in store for you at our tag match.”

The two walk out, leaving an irate crowd yelling for blood and the two boys down in the ring. Kross says a few agonized words to his brother, not even bothering to lift his head to look at him.

“You know what, Brah?”

“What?” responds Kris, not able to get up just yet either.

“Singles matches suck.”

“Definitely.”

“We gonna kick their asses, right?”

“Definitely, Brah, definitely.”

*FADE OUT*

April 15, 2003

“La Bamba” starts to play as a very serious Mr. Dratch stands by the cargo doors. Without looking down, he snaps open his cellphone and hits speaker.

“You missed him!”

Mr. D: “What! I’ve been here the whole time! He never show-!”

“I just saw him walk past you on the screen! The whole arena did! Now get your boys and get yourself out in front of my office because no Tarzan wannabe is going to get me! Move it!”

Dratch quickly hits end and dials up a number.

Mr. D: “He’s here. Get everybody out to King’s office on the double.”

Click!-Mr. Dratch walks out of view.

Riley: “Neilsen’s fucked!”

April 15, 2003

SWF Smarkdown returns from a commercial break featuring Beezel endorsing Bic lighters (“They’re El Scorcho! Use them to light enough cigarettes and someday you’ll sound like me!”), then pans the sold-out Pershing Center in Lincoln, Nebraska! Fans are shown holding up signs including “I Mark For Jay Dawg,” “Cargo Net 0wns j00” and “Nielsen’s On His Way Back In, Motherf**ker!” As the camera zooms in on the big screen, the left side of the SmarkTron lights up with a photo of an angry Jay Dawg with his ICTV Championship belt slung over his shoulder, eliciting a minor pop from the crowd. Then, on the right, a photo of Tom Flesher fades in, showing him in a traditional cocky pose, clad in his white Magnificent Seven polo with the SWF World Title belt wrapped around his waist. The fans boo loudly at Flesher’s smarmy crossed-arms smirk, and the words “NON-TITLE… SINGLES MATCH… JAY DAWG vs. TOM FLESHER” scroll across the bottom of the screen. Finally, the camera settles on the announcers’ table, with Bobby Riley and “Grand Slam” Mark Stevens in their usual positions.

“Welcome back to SWF Smarkdown,” bellows Stevens. “We’ve had an exciting night of action already, and it’s only going to get better as-”

“As Tom Flesher continues his reign as SWF World Champion. Let’s see here.” Riley reaches under the table and pulls out an abacus. He begins flipping beads to the side. “Three US Title reigns, one Light Heavyweight, one ICTV, one World Tag Team, and…” With great gusto, Riley flicks a seventh bead across the wire. “One SWF World Heavyweight Title. I count seven SWF Title reigns, plus two Genesis III awards. Ladies, gentlemen, Carnies… Tom Flesher is not only Superior, but he’s THE most decorated superstar in the history of the SWF.”

Stevens chokes on his coffee and sputters, “Well, I think you’re being a little premature with that.”

“How do you figure?”

“Well, I…”

“Tom Flesher has walked all over the competition, and now all he has to do is set the record for the longest SWF World Title reign before he retires a happy man. And believe me, Mark, he’s going to be a happy man, if you know what I mean.” Riley gives an exaggerated wink at the camera.

“I thought the letter R&D sent you specifically said you weren’t allowed to imply that you were going to have sex with Flesher anymore.”

“Imply?”

Stevens shudders visibly. “Well, in that case, let’s go to Funyon.”

Funyon announces, “Ladies and gentlemen, the following non-title contest is scheduled for one fall. The first competitor….”

THIS!

IS!

MAH!

HOUSE!

Jay Dawg’s voice echoes through the Pershing Center as the background to Rammstein’s “Du Hast” begins to blare over the speakers. He steps through the curtain, the ICTV Title slung over his shoulder and glinting in the lights. The beats thunder through the arena, shaking the foundations of the building as the fans give Jamie Drazon a mixed reaction with a few more cheers than boos. He ignores the crowd, though, keeping his face cast down toward the concrete. As he stalks toward the ring in his baggy pants and Lugz, he slowly looks around with his eyes narrowed. Finally, at the top of the ramp, he stands still as a sickening smile spreads across his face. Then, he looks back down at the concrete, looking absolutely disturbed.

“From Vancouver, British Columbia, and weighing in tonight at 243 pounds… he is the SWF ICTV Champion… he is the Hardcore Maniac… he is JAMIE… JAY DAWG… DRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAZON!!!!!!!!!”

Jay Dawg enters the ring, leaning on his thighs and slowly cracking his neck. Then, as the music fades, he leans back onto the turnbuckle. Slowly, he folds the belt and sets it in the corner as he waits for his foe.

“And his opponent…”

The SmarkTron goes white with the blue words "SUPERIORITY COMPLEX" and "MAGNIFICENT SEVEN" on it. Then, with an explosion of blue pyro, "Kashmir" bursts out over the speakers. Tom Flesher emerges from the cloud of smoke, striding confidently to the ring as videos of his signature moves alternate in half-second clips with the words "SUPERIOR ONE," “WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION,” "AWARD-WINNING," "MAIN ATTRACTION" and "MAGNIFICENT SEVEN." He walks purposefully to the ring, pausing at mid-ramp. There, he pulls off his warmup top, revealing the SWF World Heavyweight Title wrapped around his waist. He drops the warmup top and continues his walk, finally wiping his feet before entering the ring. Flesher poses in the center, his head bobbing in time with the music, until the symphonic hook at 50 seconds in cues a machinegun burst of blue and white pyro from each corner.

The music fades as Funyon begins to read Flesher’s index card.

“Currently in the ring is the best thing ever to happen to the Smartmarks Wrestling Federation,” the snack treat reads dutifully. “Currently on his tenth day as SWF World Heavyweight Champion, the leader of the Magnificent Seven is not only better than you, he’s also damn good looking and one heck of a nice guy. As such, he plans to put on a clinic with the warm body they’ve decided to throw at him tonight. So, ladies and gentlemen, as you prepare to watch an exhibition of epic proportions, please take a moment to bow down to 213 pounds of Buffalo born-and-bred brawn, bow down to the glory that is the Superior SWF World Champion, TOM FLESHERRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!”

The crowd bursts into a chorus of boos, some chanting a chorus of “YOU SUCK DICK!” Flesher golf-claps for himself, ignoring the crowd's boos, and then strips off his warmup pants. He folds them, setting them in the corner and pausing to kiss the belt before placing it carefully in his corner. He goes through a quick stretch as referee Nick Soapdish calls for the bell.

DING DING DING!!!!!!!!!

Flesher and Drazon make their way to the center of the ring. Flesher stares up at Jay Dawg, shuffling into attacking position in his classical Greco-Roman stance. Jay Dawg keeps his gaze disturbingly low, looking almost stoned as he falls into a traditional Thai horse stance. Flesher circles around, trying to get to a good angle to attack. Drazon stays focused, standing toe-to-toe. Out of nowhere, he throws a high kick up toward Flesher’s head, but the World Champion dodges to the side. As he comes back into range, Jay Dawg throws another high kick, which Flesher once again slips away from. The Hardcore Maniac follows that up with a high roundhouse kick… but Flesher ducks down to avoid the lightning-fast kick! As he comes back up, Jay Dawg quickly changes direction and spins backwards, clocking Flesher with a back-spinning crescent kick! The fans pop as Flesher collapses to the mat. He tries to push himself up, but he’s too disoriented! He rolls over to the apron, thinks it over and slides out of the ring for a quick breather. Drazon stays in the center, watching Flesher and silently planning his next few moves. Nick Soapdish, meanwhile, begins his ten-count.

ONE!

“Tom Flesher gets caught off-guard, and it looks like this one may be over before it even gets started!” says Mark Stevens as Flesher walks between the cornerposts.

TWO!

“Oh, come on, that was a sucker blow and you know it,” spits Riley.

THREE!

“That remains to be seen.”

Flesher takes a few more steps on the outside, shakes his head to get rid of the cobwebs, and then slides back into the ring. Drazon waits for him in the center, coldly calculating his next maneuver.

Flesher slides back into the ring, staring up at Jay Dawg. He steps into a defensive stance, once again circling around the sadistic, skilled ICTV Champion. Jay Dawg drops down, ready to attack at any moment, but Flesher makes the first move and dives in for a low single leg! JD falls to the mat as Flesher quickly levers the leg up and twists into a spinning toe hold! He spins once... twice... and on the third time through, Jay Dawg grabs his head and pulls him down into a small package!

ONE!

TWO!

KICKOUT! Flesher rolls through, calm and collected, still holding the leg and wrapping it into a scissors grip. He uses the momentum to come up on top and start to turn into a half crab. Jay Dawg resists, but Flesher turns the ankle hard and forces JD onto his stomach. He starts to tighten the scissors around the ICTV Champ's left leg... but before he can sit, Jay Dawg reverses the scissors grip and rolls to the side, locking on the deadly crucifix kneebar! As Stevens screams, "JD'S AVENGE!!!! JD'S AVENGE!!!!!," the crowd pops loudly and Flesher scrambles frantically for the ropes. His eyes are as wide as dinner plates as he reaches out and grabs the bottom rope, wrapping his whole body around it to break the hold. The fans continue cheering even as Nick Soapdish forces JD to break the hold. Once Jay Dawg is sufficiently away, Flesher carefully loosens his grip on the ropes, staying on his knees.

"How do you like that!" says Mark Stevens. "Tom Flesher goes for a half crab, and without a second thought Jamie Drazon reverses it into JD's Avenge! Boy, was Flesher lucky there!"

"Luck? BS, Grand Slam. Tom Flesher knows where he is at all times, and there's no way he'd let himself get caught in a submission he wasn't prepared to defend. Flesher can break anything and reverse it into a matchender."

"Lately it's been looking like Jay Dawg can do the same thing. He's been all over anyone he meets on the mat. Bobby, people are AFRAID of him."

"Well hell, I would be too if he started rolling his eyes back into his head every time I asked what time it was."

Flesher stays on his knees, trying to buy a second to decide on a backup plan. Jay Dawg already has his, however and puts it into play by kicking Flesher as hard as he possibly can right in the sternum! Flesher falls backwards but rolls to his stomach to avoid getting caught. JD stays on him, refusing to give him even a moment to breathe, and grabs his left leg! Jay Dawg pulls Flesher a few steps toward the center of the ring and nearly snaps Flesher's ankle off with a sadistically tight ankle lock! Flesher grimaces in pain, but immediately begins to fight through it to break the hold. He rolls forward, using the momentum to get back to his feet and slam Jay Dawg face-first to the mat! Flesher keeps his momentum and falls to the mat locking on a quick crossface hold! Jay Dawg's face twists into a wince as Flesher torques his neck, but Jay Dawg fights through it and reaches out to the ropes. Nick Soapdish administers the standard four-count, and Flesher breaks just a heartbeat before the official reaches "FIVE!" Flesher backs up, staying in an aggressive position as Jamie Drazon cracks his neck to buy some time to recoup.

"Wow!" says Mark Stevens. "These two are keeping an amazing pace, and they're just trying to destroy each other!"

"Too bad Jay Dawg's going to get schooled and sent home, eh Mark?"

"I doubt it," says Stevens. "Flesher keeps going back to submission holds, but there's no way he's going to make the Hardcore Maniac tap out. Not tonight, not tomorrow, not ever. Jay Dawg's pain threshold is just too high."

"Oh, come on. Flesher can make ANYONE tap, and tonight you'll see that."

Jay Dawg starts to push himself up. Flesher, right behind him, immediately drops down and grabs him around the waist. With a lightning-fast back arch, Flesher tosses Jay Dawg overhead and drops him stiffly on the back of his neck and shoulders with a released German suplex! As the loud THUD echoes through the Pershing Center, Flesher rolls through to his stomach. He pops back to his feet and waits, ready to hammer JD with another stiff throw. Jay Dawg gets up and turns toward Flesher. The World Champion grabs him around the waist, then starts to arch back for a Railgun suplex! Jay Dawg sees it coming, though, and sinks his hips to counter the throw. He steps around, tightening his own grip, and arches backward, tossing Flesher onto his back with sickening force! Flesher actually bounces off the mat, then lands again nearly as hard. He sits up, trying to fight through the pain, and comes back to his feet. He moves toward Jay Dawg, intending to hit an amateur-style single leg takedown. Before he can actually execute a move, though, Jay Dawg nails him with a stiff backhand to the jaw. Flesher stops in his tracks, and the ICTV Champion captures him around the head, neck and legs. With a quick arch backwards and a screaming kiai, JD slams Flesher to the mat with a T-Bone suplex! Tom rolls away, trying to avoid any further slaughtering, but the Hardcore Maniac keeps the pressure on. Flesher tries to beg off, but JD answers with another kick to the sternum. Tom grits his teeth, trying to suck it up and absorb the pain. Drazon smiles slightly, still not opening his eyes, and Flesher takes advantage of the momentary opening by slamming his forearm up between the ICTV Champion's legs! Jay Dawg doubles over in pain at the low blow, and Tom rears back to unload a huge bitchslap across his face! The crowd boos loudly and passionately as Flesher stops to breathe.

"What a maneuver!" marvels Bobby Riley. "I swear, I've never seen a forearm executed with such precision and force! Bravo! Bravo!"

"I don't know that there was anything that special about it," says Stevens, seemingly content in his perennial role as straight man.

"Well," replies Riley, "for one thing, it was to the testicles."

Jay Dawg stays doubled over and Flesher stands up. Taking his time, he locks up a side headlock and walks Jay Dawg toward the center of the ring. He smirks, then takes a moment to derisively slap Jay Dawg on the top of the head before stepping through and slamming him to the mat with a side headlock takeover! Nick Soapdish drops to th mat and counts

ONE!

TWO!

KICKOUT!!!! Jay Dawg breaks the headlock and both workers roll through. Flesher makes it to his feet first and waits for the Hardcore Maniac to get back up. When he does, Tom catches him in a front facelock. He steps in, arching his hips up to push Jay Dawg's head into his chest to choke him out. Flesher tightens the hold by stepping in and squeezing harder. Nick Soapdish drops down and sees Jay Dawg struggling to breathe and turning deeper and deeper shades of purple. Soapdish orders Flesher to break the hold. Flesher nods and says, "Just a second," then goes back to choking Jay Dawg. Soapdish says, "NOW!" Flesher answers with a quick nod and says, "In a moment." Finally, the official shouts "USE IT OR LOSE IT!" With an exaggerated sigh, Flesher pops his hips and throws Jay Dawg overhead with a front facelock suplex.

"GANSO TIGAH DRIVAH~!:" shouts Bobby Riley, marking out for his favorite wrestler.

"Flesher manages to weaken Jay Dawg with a blatant illegal chokehold and then slams him to the mat," says Mark Stevens. "Let's see if he can stay at that level when Nick Soapdish starts to crack down on that shameless rulebreaking. He'll have a hell of a time fighting with someone as tough as Jay Dawg, and that, my friend, is a damn promise."

Jay Dawg lands hard on his back as Flesher rolls through, absorbing relatively little impact. Jay Dawg rolls away, scooting into a corner to try to catch his breath. Flesher, though, stays close and begins unloading stiff Doc Marten kicks on JD's chest. Jay Dawg tries to get away, but Flesher continues his relentless assault with kick after kick after kick. Finally, he plants the sole of his boot on Jay Dawg's face, and the crowd begins to boo instinctively.

Flesher pauses, making sure he has as much of the sole planted on JD's face as possible, then kicks forward. As he scrapes the sole across his opponent's face, Jay Dawg brings his hands up and tries to guard himself. Flesher kicks backwards to knock the hands down, then quickly scrapes his sole across JD's face once again. Before JD can react, Flesher backs up a little. He quickly takes a few steps forward, reaching a mini charge, and slams his boot into Jay Dawg's face! The ICTV Champion's head snaps back, and Flesher backs up to play to the crowd and golf-clap for himself. The fans, as always, shower him with boos.

"Wow!" says Riley. "That mini Yakuza kick was almost as deadly as the full-sized version!"

"Very true," says Stevens. "I hate to say it, but things don't look good for the Hardcore Maniac right now."

Flesher walks at a leisurely pace back to the corner, then grabs Jay Dawg by the leg. Wearing a cocky smirk, the World Champion drags his adversary to the center of the ring. He kneels down on top of JD's chest and gratuitously flexes his biceps, drawing even more boos from the crowd. Nick Soapdish counts

ONE!

TWO!

THR-- NO!!! Jay Dawg grabs Flesher by the head and smashes into him with an absolutely sickening headbutt! The "CRACK!" echoes through the arena and Flesher falls backwards limply. JD faces the camera and, for the first time in the contest, opens his eyes. A sadistic grin spreads across his face, and he rolls his eyes back into his head. The fans pop loudly for the Hardcore Maniac's trademark for working the crowd, and the Dawg himself simply continues to wear his disturbed smile.

"This can't be good for Flesher!" says Mark Stevens. "Whenever Jay Dawg's eyes roll back into his head like that you know there's going to be trouble!"

Jay Dawg rolls over and onto Flesher. They start grappling for advantage, with Tom holding JD off in traditional Judo style with body scissors and Jay Dawg landing strike after strike while Flesher tries to block them. Drazon clobbers him over and over, just hammering him with unconscionably stiff blows. Flesher grits his teeth, trying to avoid selling as much of the impact as possible, when suddenly he catches Jay Dawg's arm! The hardcore freak ignores it, trying to continue the battery one-handed, but Tom scoots back and locks a scissors grip around his neck and the extended arm!

"TRIANGLE CHOKE! TRIANGLE CHOKE!" screams Riley hoarsely. "It's all over! Jay Dawg's gotta tap out to this one!"

Jay Dawg fights the choke, his neck already sore and fatigued. He tries everything he can think of: he pulls back, he pushes forward, he rolls to the side, but no matter what he does, the World Champion has a counter ready and quickly brings JD back into danger of passing out or having to tap out.

"Jay Dawg, getting more and more fatigued with every second... Bobby, you may be right," says Stevens.

"As always," adds Riley smugly.

JD looks at Nick Soapdish weakly and raises his hand as if he was about to tap. He holds his hand in the air, hovering it over the mat....

But instead he stands up, summoning one last burst of strength and hoisting Flesher into the air! Flesher struggles to stay down, but JD gets him up and slams him to the mat with an unbelievably vicious folding power bomb!

"Jesus, Bobby!" gasps Stevens. "Did you see how hard that slam was?!"

Riley tries to answer but produces only a sad, worried whimper.

Flesher goes completely limp, his face blank, and Soapdish counts

ONE!!!!

TWO!!!!!!

THREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Nick Soapdish waves off the fall and points to Flesher's left shoulder, only inches off the mat.

"How'd he do that?!" says Stevens in disbelief.

"Simple, my good man," replies Riley. "He's quite simply Superior."

JD stares angrily at the mat, then rolls his eyes back into his head and stands up. Flesher, meanwhile, starts to push back up to his feet. Jay Dawg stops him on his knees with a kick that Flesher ducks. Jay Dawg spins back around to hit his modified Thai roundhouse kick... but Flesher ducks that, too! Surprised, Drazon gets his balance back just in time for Flesher to slam into him with a double leg takedown! JD crashes to the mat and his Judo training kicks in. He pushes back, catching Flesher in the same body scissors guard position that Flesher uses to set up the triangle choke. Flesher stays on him, landing a few quick palm strikes to try and keep Jay Dawg off-guard while he shakes the cobwebs off. Drazon defends, blocking with almost Matrix-like precision as Flesher gets more and more frustrated. He strikes harder but sloppier every time until finally Jay Dawg simply grabs his left arm! He pulls away, extending the arm and sliding off to the side to lock on a crucifix armbar! The fans go absolutely wild!

“JUJIGATAME! JUJIGATAME!” screams Mark Stevens, who wasn’t expecting to see Jay Dawg bounce back so quickly or so easily. “He’s got Flesher right where he wants him! He’s about to make the World Champion tap out!”

“Come on, Tom!” screams Riley. “Break the hold! I’ll make it worth your while, I promise!”

Stevens pauses.

“What the hell was that?”

”Oh, nothing,” says Riley with a whistle.

Flesher, meanwhile, is panicking on the mat. He tries to pull away from the hold, but doing so only hyper-extends the elbow and adds to the pain! He tries to roll away, but Jay Dawg has him as secure as a Masterlock.

“There’s no way he can break this!” says Stevens. “It just can’t be done!”

“Of course it can! Don’t you remember when Mak Francis and Danny Williams used to do it?!”

“Jay Dawg’s stronger than both of them combined!” shouts Stevens. “It’s just not possible for Flesher to withstand much more of this!”

Tom looks around, desperate for another solution. Finally, he does the only thing left to do. He sacrifices his left arm and rolls over, hooking Jay Dawg’s right leg in the process! He locks in an inside cradle and rolls over into a quick and dirty pin!

ONE!!!!!!!!!

TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

THREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Jay Dawg gets his shoulder up at the last possible second, kicking his legs free and rolling through. He breaks the cradle and ends up held only in a front facelock. Flesher senses it and tightens the lock as much as he can. Jay Dawg stands up and dives in, going for a Northern Lights suplex. He gets Flesher a few inches off the ground… but no!!!! Flesher sinks his hips back down and very quickly locks up his front facelock guillotine choke again! Soapdish admonishes him, but Flesher completely ignores the official. He tightens the lock, then lifts Jay Dawg straight into the air! He stalls….

And stalls…..

And STALLS…….

Before finally slamming Jay Dawg down onto the mat headfirst with an absolutely brutal brainbuster! JD lands flat on his back and Flesher crawls on top of him, covering him for

ONE!!!!!

TWO!!!!!!!!!!!

THREE- NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Jay Dawg gets a shoulder up at the very last second… and smiles at the camera.

“Dear god,” shudders Stevens. “That just sends chills down my spine.”

“Flesher sends chills down-”

“Shut UP, Riley.”

Flesher rolls off, not really expecting to pick up the pin there, but taking a moment to stretch out. As Flesher cracks his neck, planning out his next few moves on the barely-moving Hardcore Maniac, he relaxes takes a few deep breaths.

Until Jay Dawg sits up.

“Jesus Christ,” says Stevens. “How much punishment can that freak take?!”

“It’s like he just keeps coming back for more!” says Riley.

“Unbelievable!”

Flesher stares wide-eyed at Drazon, who simply stands up with his eyes rolled back and shoots a blank-eyed stare at him. Flesher steps in and throws a palm strike at JD’s chest, but the ICTV Champion deflects it and throws a lightning-fast Thai roundhouse kick that sends Flesher crashing to the mat! He drops down onto Flesher and begins raining punches and forearms down onto his face, but Flesher manages to block most of them. With his opponent distracted, Jay Dawg slides down his body and grabs the left leg.

“He’s going for the crucifix kneebar!” screams Stevens. “If he locks this on, there’s no way in hell Flesher can make it out! Flesher just better hope he doesn’t get it locked in!”

Flesher fights on his back, squirming and trying to keep Jay Dawg from getting JD’s Avenge locked on. He slides to the side, locking on a passable body scissors even as JD locks on an ankle lock to pass for a position substitute for the kneebar. Flesher shakes his foot loose and pulls his leg out from under JD’s body. He sits on his back and throws a stiff palm strike to the back of his head, then grabs his hair to give him enough room to slide his right arm under Jay Dawg’s neck! As the fans begin to boo, Flesher reaches down to go for the Superior Stretch Beta!!!!

“UNBELIEVABLE!” shouts Stevens. “He counters JD’s Avenge into the Superior Stretch Beta!”

“He’s amazing! He’s incredible! He’s Superior!” gloats Riley.

Jay Dawg, of course, has other plans.

He reaches up, grabbing Flesher’s wrist and holding it away from his neck. The two wrestlers fight, Flesher trying to lock on the match-ending submission and Jay Dawg trying to block it. After what seems like an eternity of fighting, Jay Dawg finally pins the arm to the mat and slides out to the side, locking on a hammerlock! He releases it, though, and grabs Flesher around the waist. JD pulls Flesher to his feet and tightens the grip, going for a German suplex in hopes of stunning him long enough to lock on JD’s Avenge. Flesher arches backwards, hitting a standing switch and ending up behind Jay Dawg. He goes for a German of his own, only to have the Hardcore Maniac re-switch on him and get right back behind him! Frantic, Flesher sinks his hips and goes for a desperation standing switch, praying he can hit a second one!

HE MAKES IT! The crowd boos loudly, absolutely pissed off that Flesher could manage to re-counter Jay Dawg. Tom simply pops behind JD, but this time doesn’t lock his hands for a German. He snakes his arm under Jay Dawg’s, locking on a half nelson and standing side-by-side. Immediately, the crowd begins to scream their disapproval.

“YES!” shouts Riley, in contrast. “YES! YES! YES YES YES YES YESYESYESYESYES!!!!!!!” He all but stands up and applauds.

Stevens tries to reply, but Flesher acts much too quickly for that. He kicks his leg out, slamming the ICTV Champ to the mat face-first with the Jokers Wild!!!!!!! Jay Dawg hits hard, his head bouncing off the canvas as Flesher spins to the side. He uses the half-nelson to roll his opponent over onto his back and cradles him for

ONE!!!!!

TWO!!!!!!!!!

THREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Nick Soapdish calls for the bell.

DING DING DING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Your winner,” announces Funyon, “the SWF World Heavyweight Champion, THE SUPERIOR ONE, TOMMMMMMM FLESHERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!”

Jay Dawg lays on the mat, a masochistic grin across his face even though his eyes are closed and his breathing is shallow. Flesher looks up at Soapdish with a smirk and stands up. The referee raises his hand as “Kashmir” begins to blare through the arena.

“Tom Flesher was in trouble, and the Jokers Wild saves the day for him again!” says Mark Stevens. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was trying to butter up the commissioner to take some of the pressure off his schedule.”

“Oh, come on. It’s not like anything they throw at him is going to cause Flesher any trouble,” answers Riley. “He’s going to roll over all the competition, just like he rolled over Jay Dawg. It doesn’t matter what holds he uses from the enormous arsenal he has, he’ll always have something up his sleeve. He’s just that much better, and that’s why he’s the SWF World Champion.”

“Well, tonight we’re going to find out who gets to pick his first challenger,” Stevens continues. “TNT and El Luchadore Magnifico face off to select anyone but themselves for Flesher’s first defense, but first, Frost takes on Janus in a no-escape steel cage! All coming up next on SWF Smarkdown!”

April 15, 2003

Mr. Dratch and apparently every member of SWF Security is guarding the front of a door with white on black letters reading, “SUICIDE KING.” Each man looks nervous, ready to jump at a moments notice. A few sport black eyes and bandages from Neilsen’s attack last week. They grind their hands together in eager anticipation of getting them on the Hardcore King. A young, petite woman with a long black skirt, white blouse, black high heels, glasses, long brown hair pulled into a ponytail and a clipboard in her hands walks up to Mr. Dratch. He lets her pass and walk into the King’s office.

Mr. D: “Now be ready guys. He could come from anywhere. He’ll probably be bringing a steel chair with him, but as long as we attack as a group, not one-on-one or two-on-one like last week, the lil’ bastard’ll be going down.”

Many of these SWF soldiers nod their heads in agreement. That high-flyin’, chair-swingin’, posse-beatin’, hardcore fuck is going to get-

Mr. D: “There he is!”

The image of a leather jacket made from the discarded remains of lesser leather jackets flashes briefly down the hallway.

Security Jobber: “Get him!”

With revenge in their minds and their prey in sight, every single man charges down the hallway. The cameraman can barely keep up. They skid to a stop at the cross section and look around. Finally, they see a piece of leather brush into a room at the very end of the darkened hallway to their left.

Another Jobber: “He went in there!”

They rush down there, open the door and charge in. Before the cameraman can get there, loud thuds and curses go out. People shout…

“Hey get off me!”

“Sorry man, I couldn’t-”

Mr. D: “Shut up and feel around. He’s in here somewhere.”

“I can’t even see!”

The camera enters the room and it’s pitch black except for a small sliver of light that comes through the doorway.

Mr. D: “I know you’re in here Neilsen. It’s only a matter of time before we-”

The silhouette of a man with a closely shaved head appears on the floor. Mr. D shouts, charges the door and-

SLAM!

Click!

-starts pounding away as SWF Security is locked inside!

Mr. D: “Shit. Does anyone got a flashlight? I dropped my cellphone.”

April 15, 2003

The scene fades in from black with a tight close-up of an exterior sign that reads:

SWF Smarkdown!

Monday April 14th

SOLD OUT!

“It’s sold out, because there’s nothing else to do in this god forsaken state than to watch corn grow.” Bobby Riley’s familiar voice harps as the shot transitions to find him and the always jovial Mark Stevens at their ringside table.

Stevens shakes his head and ignores Riley, something he is a master of doing. “Tonight we come to you live from the Pershing Center in Lincoln, Nebraska home of…”

“…residents praying for their own death so they don’t have to live here.” Riley interrupts.

“Home of YOURS TRULY, MARK STEVENS!” Mark punches each word for Bobby’s benefit.

“I know! You’ve been talking about it ever since we arrived. You think that is going to make me stop running this hell hole down!”

Mark pulls his cell phone out of his pocket and nonchalantly mutters, “Ok, which is the speed dial key for calling the Exploding Chicken again?”

Riley cringes and then rolls his eyes. In a deadpan monotone he wines, “Lincoln Nebraska is the greatest city on the face of the Earth. Go Cornhuskers. Whoo.”

“You’ve saved your job for another week.” Mark giddily chuckles and puts is cell phone back into his pocket. “That’s enough fun and games as our next match will be anything else but.”

“It’s going to be a massacre.” Riley confidently cracks his knuckles.

“Frost might have left the Magnificent 7, but he can’t leave them behind. He’s had to deal with a former stablemate every show since From the Fire. On Lockdown, it was Fugue who fell to the Velvet Hammer, prompting his tag team partner Janus to run out for the save.”

“Which involved turning the Velvet BUTT Slammer into Janus’ own personal piñata with a chair shot so fierce, Frost’s momma felt it.”

“Leading to the encounter tonight,” Stevens picks back up “and when you have two men this big there’s only one place for them, the confines of a steel cage!”

The camera pans around to give the home viewers a good look at the chain link fencing snug against the ropes of the ring. On top is a cargo net, with holes as big as those in the cage, draped over the sides and pinned to the base of the cage.

“However, this is no ordinary cage. This has an enclosed roof in the form of a securely fastened cargo net,” Riley points out. “No wussy escape rules here. It’s pinfall or submission only.”

“Once the two men are inside,” Mark continues “the door will be locked and the key tucked safely way. No way in, no way out.”

“Although I’m sure some ‘superior’ thinker could be the ‘one’ to get past the roof net,” Riley slyly intones.

“Like Tom Flesher?”

“I was trying to be subtle about it, but we can’t really do that with our audience can we?”

The camera finds Funyon standing on the top of the ring stairs with his hand on the small, short metal door leading into the cage. Referee Eddy Long is already inside and checking to make sure that both the top and sides are secure.

“Our next match this evening is scheduled for one fall and will take place inside the confines of the unforgiving steel cage!” The fans pop for the idea of a cage match alone. “The combatants must win by pinfall or submission only! Introducing first…”

Funyon takes his cue to trail off when the lights go out. The image of a young man with snow-white hair on the SmarkTron is the only illumination in the jam-packed arena. Fear Factory’s “Resurrection” tears through the darkness as slight cracks also tear through the image on screen. Blue pyro geysers explode from the sides of the ramp and the scene on the SmarkTron shatters to reveal a much more menacing visage underneath.

“Hailing from Sydney, Australia and weighing in at 350 pounds, he is the SWF Hardcore Champion. Representing the Magnificent 7, JAAAAAAAAAANUUUUUUUUUUUS!” Funyon roars.

A bright white spotlight traces Janus as he slowly stalks to the ring. Each fountain of blue fire cuts off as he passes it, as if his mere essence controlling them. The fans’ booing falls on deaf, uncaring ears.

Stevens: “Janus took the Hardcore Title off of Mike Van Siclen on Lockdown in a match that also included Johnny Dangerous. Janus has proven in his short time in the SWF that he’s a man not to take lightly and who can overcome the odds.”

Riley: “But tonight the odds are with him. Frost has hardly ever gone against a man bigger and stronger than he is. He won’t know how to react and that’s going to be his downfall.”

Funyon jumps down from the stairs to let Janus pass him. He turns to face the crowd before entering the cage and thrusts his arms into the air…

CRACK-A-BOOM!

Blue fireworks stream from positions on the guardrail. They bathe the auditorium in an eerie glow before the houselights flicker on. Janus has to step sideways and duck down low to enter through the tiny door.

Stevens: “The cage forced the production crew to change Janus’ introduction slightly.”

Riley: “Good thing they still gave the man what he wanted or I know some families that would be collecting on life insurance policies right now. Well…maybe not, most policies don’t cover acts of God.”

Janus removes the Hardcore Title from his wide middle and hands it over to Eddy Long. Silverish pyro sparks from the ceiling and the crowd explodes with cheers. As Black Sabbath’s “Snowblind” plays over the loudspeakers, the entrance stage is bathed in a baby blue light and faux snow sprinkles down from overhead.

“And his opponent,” Funyon booms to pop the fans louder “tipping the scales at 296 pounds, from Reykjavik, Iceland, the Velvet Hammer, FRRRRRROOOOOSSSSST!”

Frost sashays out from the behind the backstage curtain with his fist high in the air and a cigar in his lips. He looks skyward to get a face full of snow and let the fan adulation wash over him. He smiles and struts to the ring, making sure to slap a few hands on his way down.

Riley: “Hmm…snow white hair, three diagonal scars…where have I seen that look before…where?”

Stevens: “May I mention that Frost was in the SWF long before Janus was.”

Riley: “May I mention that I don’t give a sh*t.”

Frost hits ringside and reaches up to give a good tug on the netting drooping down. He wraps his fingers through the netting and cage lattice and gives the cage a good rattle. Janus sneers at Frost, showing he cannot be intimidated. Frost eyes his opponent slyly and spikes his cigar to the floor. He grinds it out with his boot heel and slips through the door into the ring. Funyon shuts the door behind him and clamps a Masterlock shut near the door handle.

DING DING DING

Eddy Long points for both men to get it on and the fans cheer with anticipation. Both men eye each other wearily, but with simmering loathing right below the surface.

Riley: “Janus must feel like he’s looking at a funhouse mirror. It looks like him, but it’s all scrawny and weird looking.”

Stevens: “Scrawny is not a word to describe the Iceman from Iceland. You brag about Janus’ size Bobby, but Frost is one of the few men who can almost match him.”

Riley: “Almost.”

Janus holds out a right hand and wiggles his fingers with a devilish gleam in his eye.

Stevens: “Janus looks to be trading on that vaunted power early. He’s asking for a test of strength.”

Riley: “He knows where his advantages lie. He’s going to beat Frost down before he has time to realize what’s going on and alter his game plan from the usual.”

Frost looks out at the fans, who bark for him to give it a go. Frost brings his arms up and flexes his well-defined muscles. Janus looks at his posturing with disgust and lunges forward. Frost throws his hands up to meet him and the two deadbolt in a double knuckle lock!

Stevens: “Both men pushing against each other, neither is gaining an advantage to start.”

Riley: “There he goes! See how Janus is pushing down, lumbering over that punk. He’s putting his extra height and weight into it.”

Frost has the more toned physique, but Janus’ raw power is forcing him to sink to his knees. He throws his head back and bellows with a painful wail. He puts all he can into it, his arms quaking from the pressure, but can’t gain an inch on the awesome Aussie.

Stevens: “These fans are stunned silent by Janus overpowering their hero so easily.”

Riley: “Morons are easily shocked.”

Janus barrels down on Frost with wide-eyed focus. Frost collapses to both knees, but quickly grinds on the double knuckle lock to squeak out a bit of leverage. He fights to loosen his left hand before Janus can compensate and twists to the right and up to his feet! Janus is caught temporarily off guard and Frost whips him out of the knuckle lock into the cage chest first with a shimmering clang!

Stevens: “Frost is only giving up a little strength to Janus, but he has to be twice as fast as he is and I would venture to say twice as cunning.”

Janus stumbles back from the blow, wind milling his arms for balance. Frost skips off the mat to throw his left arm around Janus’ neck. He kicks his feet out and rides the force of gravity to the mat!

WHAM!

Frost spins to his feet and turns to find Janus already up on one knee and glaring at him!

Stevens: “Good Lord, Janus took an inverted DDT off of Frost and didn’t even feel it.”

Riley: “So he uses his smarts to break the test of strength. So he uses his speed to whip Janus into the cage. Doesn’t mean jack when the man doesn’t feel pain.”

Janus stands and flares his nostrils at Frost like a pissed off bucking bronco. Frost stands thunderstruck! Janus takes the opportunity to rocket in a big boot to the gut to double Frost over! He leans his huge frame over to hook Frost around the waist and flips him around against his chest!

Stevens: “Janus just picked up Frost like he was infant!”

Riley: “And as scared as he is, Frost probably needs a diaper change!”

Janus makes no extra flares in sitting straight down to drive Frost’s back into the mat with a sit-down powerbomb!

SLAM!

Janus pushes Frost’s feet away and stands to the jeering of the audience. Frost rolls with the hit and stands up straight, seeming no worse for wear! The crowd goes bonkers and Janus turns slowly around, already knowing what he will find.

Stevens: “We have a stalemate, Bobby. Both men took tremendous moves to start and neither is willing to show any pain from them.”

Riley: “See, Frost is stealing from Janus again.”

Janus nods his head and Frost returns likewise, a sign of mutual respect. They charge at each other and hook arms in an elbow and collar tie up. The fans murmur with excitement as the two mammoths struggle against each other. Frost grapevines his right leg around Janus’ and twists out of the lockup while sweeping the leg out from under his adversary. Janus flops face first to the mat and Frost swiftly leaves his feet and cocks an elbow. Janus rolls over just as Frost is ready to hit and the Icelander strikes nothing but canvas!

Stevens: “That has to smart, but Frost is pushing through it. Both men back up.”

However, Janus hits an upright position first and takes Frost by the wrist as he stands. He Irish whips Frost toward the cage and charges after him as he lets go. Frost runs into the cage face first and is then sandwiched against the steel by a standing splash from behind! Janus pops off and palms the back of Frost’s head like a basketball to rub his mug into the wiry mesh!

Riley: “Kind hearted Janus, he’s trying to do Frost a favor by rearranging his ugly face again.”

Stevens: “As mentioned earlier, Janus smashed Frost a good one with a chair on Lockdown. Frost is damn lucky he didn’t suffer a broken nose or worse.”

Riley: “We can hope for worse tonight.”

Frost eats a hearty portion of cage before throwing back an elbow to rap Janus in the ear. He stumbles off balanced from the blow and bends over shaking his head. Frost, his face rubbed raw from the cage, makes with a half nelson and bounds forward to rip Janus off his feet and to the canvas!

Stevens: “Half nelson bulldog! Frost rolls Janus over and goes for the cover!”

ONE

Frost struggles to snatch the leg, but Janus’ long frame gives him some trouble.

TWO

Janus puts his hands into Frost’s chest and benches him off a good foot into the air! Frost splats down as Janus works his way up.

Riley: “He might as well be wrestling Annie Eclectic after a hunger strike, both would weigh about the same to him.”

Frost rests on all fours, trying to gain his breath and his bearings. Janus thunders down with a double axehandle between the shoulder blades and Frost drops like a stone. The fans jeer Janus pulling Frost to his feet by the shoulder. He clamps his other hand around the man’s throat and signals for the chokeslam! Frost claws at the hand around his neck!

Riley: “As my dear friend, the Dr. of Style, Slick used to say, ‘turn out the lights, the party’s over!”

Frost shifts his weight to lower his center of gravity and then rocks back with both of his hands on Janus’ arm. He pulls forward as he falls back and hurls Janus face first into the cage!

Stevens: “Once again Frost uses his wits and his edges in agility and speed to make with a unique counter.”

Janus trips into the cage off balanced. Frost shoots a hand up between his foe’s legs and slings him over and down with a schoolboy roll up!

ONE

Janus’s weight continues rearward and Frost can’t hold the cradle. Janus flips out and lays face first on the canvas. Frost scrambles to his feet and leaves them just as quickly for a sitting splash across the giant’s back! Frost hits a rear-mounted chinlock and enfolds Janus’ arms with his legs.

Stevens: “Frost locks in a camel clutch. Not one of his usual moves, but a smart one to keep Janus grounded. If I know Frost he’s been in the gym all week working on new holds and maneuvers to go after Janus with.”

Riley: “Oooo, it’s new improved Frost with mat grapple action. I’m sure Janus is quaking in his boots.”

Eddy Long doesn’t even have time to get in position and ask Janus if he submits before he starts his way up! Janus works his legs underneath and stands with a 300-pound weight clinging around his neck! Janus rises to his full height! Frost loses his grip on the Hardcore Champ’s head, but is held in place by his legs draped over the man’s shoulders. Frost reaches up and finds the holes of the mesh cargo net in his grasp. He gets the best hold he can as Janus throws himself backwards for an electric chair drop! Frost kicks his legs out and keeps his claw hold on the net! Janus strikes the canvas with a smack! Frost swings his legs back like a kid playing on the monkey bars and lets go of the netting! He faces downward as he falls and splashes on top of Janus with thunderous impact!

WHUMP!

Frost strikes vertically, his feet above Janus’ skull and his head butting the man in the crotch! Frost ricochets in the air and clambers to make the pin!

ONE

TWO

TH-

Riley: “Kick out!”

Stevens: “But a lot slower then before!”

The residue of the fans popping fills the auditorium as Frost drags Janus up by a handful of stringy white hair.

Stevens: “Frost grabbed on the net when Janus stood up and wiggled free of the electric chair drop. However, you have to remember that that isn’t a normal cage roof. It’s tacked down firm, but Frost’s bulk looks to have loosened it a bit.”

Janus throws a punch to the midsection and whips his head back to free it from Frost’s grip.

Riley: “The netting is bowing in the middle and appears to have a lot more slack in it. Leave it to Frost to be clumsy enough to break a steel cage.”

Frost absorbs the blow with a mild grunt and shoots out a right hand of his own. Janus blocks with a beefy forearm and goes for a kick to the gut, but Frost is able to dodge the slow, heavy boot.

Stevens: “The roof is 15 feet above the mat, but with Janus a legitimate seven foot two and Frost no slouch himself at six foot seven, it’s not too hard to hit the top with a little boost.”

Frost snags the Mag 7’ers left wrist and lifts his arm straight out to the side. He balls up a fist and steps in for the shot.

Stevens: “Touch of Frost! No!”

Janus jumps to the side as much as he can and wrenches his arm free of Frost’s clench. He steps behind the Icelander and works both of his arms underneath his and locks his fingers behind the man’s head for a full nelson! Frost’s scratches at the air and attempts to run to free himself, but no dice! Janus looks over his shoulder and scoots closer to the cage.

Stevens: “I don’t like the looks of this.”

Riley: “Then get your glasses changed, it looks great to me.”

Janus bends his knees and plants himself firm. He uses all of his might to jerk Frost off the canvas and flings him overhead with a full nelson suplex! Janus lets go at the top of his arc and Frost flies into the cage wall! The fans gasp when Frost’s skull bangs into the cage and scrapes down its length with a sickening screech of metal! Frost falls into a pile of human flesh!

Stevens: “The back of Frost’s head was just NAILED into the cage side! I think I’m going to be sick.”

Riley: “Here use my barf bucket. I had it out, knowing TNT was in the main event again.”

Janus narrows his eyes and stares down the masses, seemingly one by one. He towers over his fallen rival, who grovels on the canvas with a hand to the back of his head. Janus reaches down and tugs the hand away. He holds it up for the crowd to see, blood staining the fingers and palm from a nasty gash in the crown of his skull!

Stevens: “Frost has been busted wide open! He could have a concussion! And the monster Janus is just relishing it.”

Riley: “Relish! I should get a hot dog. A little snack is the only thing that could make this moment better.”

Janus tows Frost up by the arm. He stands on unsteady feet and slants with his head resting on Janus’ chest. Janus picks Frost up by the waist and then shimmies his hands down to the tops of the thighs. He hoists Frost straight up with little visible effort and leans rearward as far as he can manage. Janus trips a couple steps back and Frost’s head grazes the bulge of netting pulled loose earlier. However, the Velvet Hammer makes no spectacular counter this time. Janus throws himself forward with fierce power and slams Frost back first to the mat! The ring shakes so hard, even the referee is jarred off his feet. Janus drops to his knees to make the cover, but shakes his head ‘no.’

Stevens: “High angle spinebuster! Yet, he refuses to go for a cover!”

Riley: “This isn’t about winning and losing for him. This is about beating Frost within an inch of his life and making him beg to be dragged that last inch to death. Janus is Frost’s replacement in the Magnificent 7 and he doesn’t want there to be any doubt in Flesher’s mind that he traded up.”

Janus pulls the nearly comatose Frost up by the sides of his head to the ardent hatred of the fans.

Stevens: “Janus was with the Mag 7 before Frost left, but you can’t deny the similarities between the men that might be leaving Janus in the Velvet Hammer’s shadow. He has taken on a bit of an enforcer’s role, much like Frost had, in the Mag 7 and he wants the World Champion to know he’s worthy of holding it.”

Janus leans down to take Frost’s body across his shoulders and stands up with the man in a fireman’s carry.

Riley: “Death Valley Driver coming up! Death, lots of death going on for Frost.”

Janus doesn’t stop to play to the crowd or gloat; he’s business like in his dismantling of the thorn in his and his stable’s side. He whisks Frost over and down, impaling the top of his head into the canvas!

Stevens: “DVD is the right call, Bobby, and right on top of that wound from the cage!”

Janus pops to his knees and stares down at Frost. Eddy Long barks at him to make a cover and get it over with, but the look in his eyes tells the ref that he won’t end this match until he is good and ready. He picks Frost up from under the shoulder and rises. He hurls him into the cage and presses forward to lay a forearm across his throat to pin Frost in place. He grinds the forearm into the Adam’s apple while using his free hand to grate the bloody back of the Iceman’s head into the cage lattice!

Stevens: “Eddy Long needs to stop this! That gash is getting worse by the second.”

Riley: “Hmm…I’m looking at the card drawn up the by the commissioner and nowhere do a I see ‘referee’s stoppage’ as a way to win. Pin or submission ONLY!”

Stevens: “Christ, have a heart.”

Riley: “I had mine removed and sold on the black market, thank you very much.”

Janus gnashes with teeth, feeling the blood lust in his soul. He takes his arm off of Frost’s throat and takes him by the wrist. He whips Frost off the cage wall and torques to chuck him into the far corner. Frost twists to take the turnbuckles in the back and he slumps down out of it; his snow white hair now a dingy, crimson red. Janus holds his fist up to the crowd, mocking Frost’s entering gesture, and the jeers rain down. He measures the big man from the opposite corner and lowers his shoulder as he takes off like a slow moving freight train! Three quarters of the way across the ring, he leaves his feet and shoots forward, a human dart! Relying on instinct more than anything, Frost falls to his right and, just barely, out of harm’s way! Janus’ shoulder squishes through the turnbuckles and spikes the ring post with a wet crunch of bone and cartilage!

Stevens: “Janus didn’t quite heed his own advice there. He was a little overconfident that Frost was knocked cold and took too much time in going for the Gore.”

Riley: “A slight fopa, nothing to worry over. Janus can’t let Frost shake him, he’s working at his regimented measured pace and it just didn’t pan out there.”

Janus flips to his rear and drops to the mat. He holds his left arm limply across his body and tends to it with his other. Frost crawls bit by bit across the turf, breathing hard with sweat and blood mixing in his eyes.

Stevens: “Despite Janus’ mantra of ‘Confident. Cocky. Lazy. Dead.’ we know that he’s not the most stable of personalities.”

Janus reaches above him with his good arm to grab the top rope and yanks himself up. Frost senses the huge form rising behind him and puts a droopy hand on the second rope to struggle up with.

Riley: “Hey, there is no reason to air a man’s personal problems like that. If you start talking about Janus’ private life, I’ll start talking about Frost dressing up in women’s clothing and going to Avril Lavigne concerts.”

Janus snatches Frost by the ends of his short hair to bring him up to his feet. He hooks a front facelock while pulling the man to the center of the ring. He tucks his arm under Frost’s armpit and grabs a handful of tights.

Stevens: “That blow to the ring post is telling Janus he should finish this match when he can and the Rage Unleashed should do just that.”

Janus goes to hoist Frost up, but pauses from a twinge of pain in that freshly injured shoulder. This allows Frost to throw his way back and retake his feet! He moves deftly behind Janus out of the suplex position and scores a rear waistlock. Mustering all the strength in his body, Frost dead lifts the giant and pushes him out and down! He catches his legs as he falls forward and sits down to plow Janus face first into the mat!

BLAM!

Stevens: “FROST REVERSES TO THE SNOWBLIND!”

Frost forces his tortured form to keep moving and roll Janus over on his back. He lies across him and limply hooks the leg.

ONE!

TWO!

THRE-

Riley: “KICK OUT! HAHA! YOU’RE DEAD NOW SNOW MAN!”

The fans groan at Janus breaking the cover. Frost shakes his head in disbelief, but tugs Janus up as he stands by a handful of hair. He places the man in a standing head scissors and underhooks the arms.

Stevens: “The Early Winter!”

Riley: “How about an earlier fall?”

Janus moves closer to Frost to work his back into the grappler’s stomach and reels back hard. Frost loses his hold and flips through the air to clang into the cage! He bounces off and strikes the mat. Frost immediately starts pulling himself up by the ropes, but Janus is there to greet him with a clubbing forearm to the still bleeding head wound!

Riley: “Whatever Frost dishes out, Janus will sop up and come back for seconds. The job train is about to get derailed!”

Janus rubs Frost’s face against the cage and then Irish whips him to the far ropes. Frost staggers back toward Janus and is stopped by an iron grasp on his throat. The crowd hollers as Janus puts his free right hand on Frost’s back to steady him and carries him up to the heavens! Frost slaps at the arm and fidgets to break loose, Janus holds him as if he could do it all day just to tease the Iceman that much more. Frost’s struggling arms catch the cargo netting again and pulls it down a bit more, but it offers little help. Janus pendulums his arm forward and let’s go slightly above the mat!

CRASH!

Frost ricochets halfway up on impact, bounces once more and then lies still!

Stevens: “Chokeslam! But Janus is favoring that left shoulder!”

Janus trips to his side and falls to one knee, his eyes squeezed tightly shut to block out the pain in the shoulder. He shakes his head and stands to walk it off. He spies Frost with his eyes closed and his chest working overtime pumping oxygen. He calmly drops to his knees then lies across Frost while hooking the leg!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE-

Stevens: “KICK OUT!”

Riley: “AW F*CK! That has to be an optical illusion!”

The fans expel the air caught in their throats with relief. Janus stares a hole in Long, but says nothing.

Stevens: “That bad shoulder slowed him up just enough for Frost to barely make the break.”

Janus jerks Frost up by the sides of his head and stands front to back with him. He places a hand between his legs and heaves him above his head while putting a hand on his back.

Riley: “Gorilla press slam! No sweat, he’s shaking off that shoulder hit to the post. You can hurt Janus, but you can’t hurt him for long.”

Janus extends his arms as fully as he can. He sneers at the hissing audience with Frost high overhead! Running on the fumes of adrenaline, Frost’s mind fades in and out of conscious. He scantly feels the netting, strangely cooling, rubbing against his face. His arms lift to take the sagging net and he balls all the slack he can get around his right fist. Janus bends his elbows and thrust upwards, tossing Frost into the still air! He takes a step out to let Frost plunge down behind him! However, with the net wrapped around his hand it acts as a drag on his descent! The web strains to keep hooked to its catches, but Frost’s weight is too much for it and he lowers slowly to the canvas bit by bit in sections as the net comes loose!

Stevens: “Frost has practically ripped the roof down!”

Riley: “Stop the match, stop the match!”

Stevens: “Hmm…I don’t see ‘breaking of facilities’ as a way to win the match written on the card.”

The masses murmur a little perplexed. Janus spins to run face first into a stream of webbing funneling down from above. The very edge of the net claim new, tentative holds on the top of the pointy cage lattice, but they won’t hold for long. Janus tries to push the netting out of his way to get at Frost who uses the cover as a smokescreen for a breather. He examines the ball of netting he has around his fist and watches Janus frantically clawing at the makeshift wall between them.

Riley: “Officials need to come pull this netting down now!”

Stevens: “It’s part of the cage and it’s standard for ANY use of ANY part of the cage as a weapon to be allowed in a match like this and that includes the cargo net in this instance.”

Frost fakes to his left and Janus lunges at the shadow! Frost comes around to his right and slips through a gape in the net. He glimpses Janus’ exposed left side and drives his fist into the ribcage with a glove of netting for extra pop!

Stevens: “Touch of Frost!”

Janus’ whole body seizes up from the paralyzing blow to the heart! Frost, still shaky but fighting to finish strong, hooks a half nelson on the left arm and wrenches on that damaged shoulder. He makes sure to pull the netting with him as he snakes his right arm across the throat to complete the Cobra Clutch and grapevines the near leg! He kicks back to sweep the leg out from under Janus and drive him completely into the hanging down mesh! Frost rolls as they fall forwarforward to twist both men on their backs and wrap the net tight around the giant’s massive frame! Janus struggles and fights like a lion trying to escape a hunter’s net, but tonight the predator has become the prey! Frost lies on top of Janus, using his bulk to keep him down! He battles harder to get free, but it only ties him up more!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

DING DING DING

The fans collectively shoot out of their seats and explode with screaming! Frost unwraps his hand from the net and wobbly takes his feet. Eddy Long lifts his right arm up in victory!

Funyon: “Here is your winner by pinfall, THE VELVET HAMMER… FRRRRRRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSST!”

Riley: “This is complete horsesh*t!”

Stevens: “Frost used his brains to make the best use of his surroundings and bundled Janus up in the torn down cargo net so he couldn’t move. One Touch of Frost and a strategically executed Icelandic Legsweep gave the beast Janus nowhere to go!”

Riley: “And Frost is going to accept such a retarded victory? This should not count! This win should not stand! It’s complete and total HORSESH*T!”

Frost’s stands with streaks of blood trailing down his face and his hair as red as a ripe tomato on the vine. He trips to his right and slumps against the cage door. Janus continues to fight and struggles to free himself of the net with Long now helping out. Janus works a hand free and slaps the referee away. Funyon trots around with the key and unlocks the door.

Riley: “Frost has taken over a hundred years of beautiful tradition from Frank Gotch to Tom Flesher and dropped a giant horse turd on it! It’s like he backed Mr. Ed up to the ring and said, ‘go ahead Ed, just crap all over good wrestling.’ The cargo net was part of the cage, but not part of the match!”

Stevens: “But the cage was part of the match. After all, Janus busted Frost open on the cage, so that counts?”

Riley: “Damn straight it does! I hope that son of a bitch has to get stitched up like a baseball by the paramedics!”

Frost almost falls out of the cage door and down the steps. With the rush of adrenaline failing, the gash on the top of his head is making his thoughts very soupy in his head. One notion that is screaming in his skull is to get the hell away from the ring before Janus frees himself as he is in no shape to continue the fight on.

Stevens: “So Janus used a part of the cage to his benefit and Frost used a part of the cage to his benefit, the net WAS part of the match.”

Riley: “Ur…eh…ah…STOP USING LOGIC! Frost bad, Janus good, that’s all I need to know!”

Frost slugs his way up the rant with a hand on the top of his head. Two medics meet him on the entrance stage and usher him in the back to take a look at that gash. The crowd pops once more for the fan favorite as he disappears behind the curtain.

Stevens: “I’ll give you one thing, Bobby, Frost doesn’t want anymore of Janus tonight. He’s taken him to the limit like no other man has.”

Riley: “That’s because he hasn’t faced Tom Flesher in the SWF yet. When they do meet, he’ll handle him like he handled his little buddy TNT.”

Stevens: “And it is Frost’s longtime tag team partner, Taylor Nicholas Thompson who will be squaring off with another member of the Magnificent 7 in our main event next, El Luchadore Magnifico.”

Riley: “This is a rematch from the World Title tussle at From the Fire and I know ELM is looking to avenge such a miserable fluke loss.”

In the ring, Janus finally rips out of the cargo net and emerges from the mesh like a mythical monolith. He lets loose a savage roar to express his frustration and blows past Eddy Long for the cage door. The crowd jeers and throws debris his way as he hits the floor running and sails up the ramp!

Stevens: “Uh oh, Frost might not want anymore of Janus tonight as I said, but he might not have a choice if the Instrument of Destruction can find him in the back.”

Riley: “I say Frost should leave the building for medical treatment if he doesn’t want Janus to find him. Go somewhere like New Zealand. Janus MIGHT not find him there.”

Janus tears up the ramp and vanishes behind the curtain as Smarkdown cuts to break.

April 15, 2003

A young, petite woman with a long black skirt, white blouse, black high heels, glasses, long brown hair pulled into a ponytail and a clipboard in her hands is shown walking out of Suicide King’s office. She is trying to quickly straighten her hair. She hurries past a few coworkers who snicker as she passes. She brushes them off and continues on her way. She continues going down the hallway when she runs into Johnny “The Barracuda” Dangerous.

Girl: “Johnny! Johnny, I need you to sign these.”

JBD: “What are these?”

Girl: “Pictures that need your autograph. The first one is for the President of Morocco. Apparently he’s a big fan.”

JBD: “Heh…how’s his daughter?”

Girl: “She’s…(Gives Johnny a look)…she’s fine Johnny. Now these next two are for a couple of fans in Puerto Rico. And this last one, which King says is of top priority, is for the son of an innocent Iraqi civilian who was injured in one of the bombings. We need to make sure that they realize that Americans truly do care for these people.”

JBD: “Sure thing sweet tits.”

SMACK!

This petite little thing just slapped the taste out of his mouth.

Girl: “Now finish those and get them into the King’s hands by tomorrow morning!”

She storms away, leaving a startled Johnny Dangerous in her wake.

Girl: “I can’t believe him! Such disrespect! Why, doesn’t he know I could get him fired in a second?”

Still fuming, she walks down the hall, turns to a door on her right, opens it and walks inside. A few seconds later…

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!”

April 15, 2003

Stevens: “We’ve had a great show so far, right here in my hometown, and…God I love this place…get ready for what we have in store for you next.”

Riley: “That’s right because TNT versus ELM is up next! They will blow the roof off this place even after the non-stop action of Déjà Vu in singles action against Justice and Rule. The breathtaking battle between the ICTV Champion Jay Dawg and the World Champion “The Superior One” Tom Flesher. The mockumentary that was Beezel and Johnny Dangerous versus Xero. But now we’ll turn it over to Funyon.”

Funyon: “Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is the SWF Main Event!”

The crowd cheers wildly in eager anticipation.

Funyon: “Introducing first-”

RRRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!

-blasts over the loud speakers! The mad cheers grow even louder as “Welcome to the Jungle” starts to play! The fans build to a frenzied shout as they wait for their Hardcore Hero to arrive.

Stevens: “Neilsen’s not scheduled to be out here!”

Riley: “No shit! He’s suspended…but that hasn’t stopped him before!”

The fans’ cheers explode as Neilsen leaps over the barricade with a microphone in his left hand and a long chain in his right that leads someplace over the barricade. He rolls into the ring, throws up his left hand to draw a number of cheers and then stares at the crowd.

NotJ: “Roar mother f**kers!”

The crowd goes wild!

NotJ: “Now, onto serious f**kin’ business…Suicide! Suicide get your bitch ass on that f**kin’ screen and get ready to bow to the f**kin’ King! Last week I promised action and now-”

The Suicide King appears on the Smarktron to a chorus of boos.

SK: “What is it Neilsen? You are a pathetic joke, you know that? Now, why shouldn’t I just turn off your mic right here and right now?”

NotJ: “Because, well, for one, I can just stand here and not let your f**kin’ Main Event happen. (The crowd starts booing.) But, it seems these people don’t like that idea…not that it really matters what they think, but they’re right. This Main Event will happen because I have something that you’ll want to see. One fish, two fish, red fish, you’ll wish that you never heard the name of Neilsen!”

Neilsen paces around, still clutching the chain attached to something behind the barricades.

NotJ: “Now see, when you…heh…when you…when you suspended me… See, that was a mistake. But the biggest mistake you made Sui…the biggest mistake you made was when you addressed me like you f**kin’ knew me. You called me by my first name. You called me Neil. I am not that f**kin’ bastard. But, if you want to make this personal…that’s fine with me Brian.”

SK: “You will not call me Brian! I am your boss. I am the Suicide King and I’ve heard enough of your inane prattle. Jimmy, shut off his-”

NotJ: “Oh Brian, I’m not done and trust me, you’ll want to hear this. See, I was going to show up…I was going to interfere in every goddamned match you had here tonight. I was going to shut this f**kin’ show down…but I had a better idea. See, when I showed up, I declared war. I declared war for the lack of respect I received in my absence. Now that I’m back, these people are giving it to me in spades. But you…you keep showing me a distinct lack of respect. And why is that Brian? Is it because you’re jealous of my accomplishments? Because I’ve received more accolades than you ever have? Because beating Neilsen of the Mother F**kin’ Jungle is sometimes more of an accomplishment than winning your precious World Championship? Because some things are greater than titles and I’m one of them? Is it because almost everything you’ve done I’ve done first? Because I am the true King of this f**kin’ Ring and you just ain’t no thing?”

SK: “You bore me.”

Neilsen stares at the ‘tron incredulously.

NotJ: “I bore you!?! Well, here’s something to grab your attention! You make this personal! You call me Neil! So I’ll make you kneel! You’ll kneel to the King. All’s fair in love and war…so here’s a f**kin’ whore!”

Neilsen yanks on the chain and drags out a female who had the chain wrapped around her neck. She has a black bag over her head, a ripped white blouse and a ripped long black skirt. You can see that her shoes are missing as she’s dragged into the ring. Neilsen yanks her further in and forces her to rise to her knees.

SK: “Now you’ve got my attention. Are we in for a special reenactment of the “Laura Incident” or will it be the real thing?”

NotJ: “Why don’t you tell me?”

Neilsen rips the black bag off her head and the crowd gasps as it’s the girl shown in Suicide King’s office earlier. The young, petite little thing that’s been roaming the hallways of the IGNWF and then SWF ever since Neilsen first arrived in the major leagues. Suicide King bolts out of his chair and leaves his desk empty. The crowd murmurs in bewilderment as to why King took off in such a rush. Neilsen smirks and then looks down at the girl.

NotJ: “So…why don’t you tell everyone your name?”

Girl: “M-Michelle.”

NotJ: “So Michelle…while we wait for Brian to make his way out here…why don’t you tell me something about yourself?”

Neilsen yanks on the chain.

NotJ: “Heh…actually you have no choice. See, I knew that even if I wrecked this show, Suicide would never let me back in. I needed to find another way. You girl, you are that way. So, what is it that you do here?”

Michelle: “I am Mr. King’s executive assistant.”

NotJ: “So like a secretary?”

Michelle: “Yeah. I’ve worked for everyone in charge from Mr. Grant to Mercury to Mr. McWeed to Bri-to the Suicide King.”

NotJ: “So you work for Bri-I mean…the Suicide ‘King’. Okay. That’s interesting. But he’s a heartless bastard. He’s…heh…heartless bastard…that’s kinda’ ironic. But he doesn’t care for people. He’s a schmuck that stands on a self-made throne far from the action. A coward that hides behind his power. So why would this man that undoubtedly fears me rush out from his desk so quickly at the sight of you? What is it about an allegedly innocent little thing named Michelle that gets Brian so hot and bothered?”

Michelle: “He’s…he’s…we…well…we…”

NotJ: “What? Spit it out.”

Michelle: “We…we’re…we’ve been…”

NotJ: “What?”

Michelle: “We’ve been dating.”

The crowd rumbles.

NotJ: “Wow. I am shocked. (He looks at the crowd) Who knew? Oh…that’s f**kin’ right…I did! Now, how long have you two been an item?”

Michelle: “For…for over a year.”

NotJ: “Over a year? So, you two started going out right when the IGNWF became the SWF.”

Michelle: “Y…yes.”

NotJ: “So, you two started going out right after I left.”

Michelle looks up into Neilsen’s eyes and says.

“Yes.”

Neilsen smirks at her and-

“Neil!”

The crowd boos as Suicide King steps onto the stage!

SK: “Neil, you piece of shit, let her go! She has nothing to do with this! This is between you and me. Michelle has nothing to do with it!”

NotJ: “She has everything to do with it! She is my f**kin’ ticket you dumb bastard. You made this personal, don’t you dare blame this sh*t on me! She is my way back into the SWF! She is how I got you out of your office and into the arena. She is how I’ll get what I f**kin’ want!”

SK: “What!?! What do you want?”

NotJ: “I want to be reinstated in the SWF right now!”

The fans roar!

SK: “You aren’t-”

Neilsen yanks on the chain and Michelle shrieks!

SK: “Neil! Stop that or I’ll…”

NotJ: “You’ll what? Stand there? Send twenty f**kin’ men after me? Book me in under-card matches? Have me fight for titles that are beneath me? Throw me against two men and a referee?”

SK: “I’ll beat your goddamned ass!”

The fans cheer as they hear this. So anxious are they to see Neilsen of the Jungle and the Suicide King get it on in the ring.

NotJ: “Calm down Brian. You wouldn’t want her to get hurt.”

Neilsen flashes Michelle a vicious grin and jerks the chain.

SK: “Stop! What…what do you want?”

NotJ: “I want back in the SWF!”

SK: “Then let her go!”

NotJ: “No! See, we have millions of witnesses watching at home. We have thousands here. So in front of them, we will have a legal and binding verbal agreement.”

SK: “Fine! What do you want!”

NotJ: “I want to be reinstated. I want you to agree to never again be able to suspend my sexy ass! If Neilsen’s going out, he’s going out on his own terms! No one will keep the King of the Jungle away from a rumble unless it’s his own f**kin’ choice! Brian, you agree to these terms and…I’ll let the bitch go. You turn them down, I’ll make the bitch bleed.”

SK: “Neil…you son of a bi-”

NotJ: “So is that your answer?”

Neilsen tightens his grip on the chain.

SK: “No! Neil…you…you are back in the SWF!”

The crowd roars once more!

SK: “Now let her go!”

NotJ: “Heh…fine.”

Neilsen reaches down and takes the chain off of Michelle’s neck.

NotJ: “Chicky…you’re f**kin’ free. Now go to your King.”

Michelle looks apprehensively at the Hardcore King, shakes as she stands and heads towards the ropes by the ramp. Suicide drops the mic and waits on her. She grabs the top rope, bends down to step out onto the apron, Suicide King smiles and-

Michelle charges back, leaps into the Jungle King’s arms and the two give new meaning to deep throat! Neilsen grabs her ass as Suicide King’s in shock and the crowd erupts!

Stevens: “What the hell!?!”

Neilsen rips his lips from hers and the two look up at Suicide King with vicious grins. Neilsen has an evil glint in his eyes and blood forming on his lower lip. And over the loud speakers…

“RRRRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!”

Riley: “The Neilsen/Suicide Saga gets even deeper as Neilsen is back in action and the Jungle King took the Suicide King’s Queen!”

Stevens: “And stay tuned as TNT versus ELM is up next!”

April 15, 2003

Eventually, the Jungle King and his new Queen exit the ring, leaving the crowd buzzing both from the promo and the upcoming main event, the rematch everyone has been waiting for! TNT! Magnifico!!! One more time, but this time the winner will determine who will face the cowardly champion Tom Flesher! Man... this is what wrestling is all about, baby!

"Ahem."

THe crowd turns to regard the SmarkTron... and see the face of the Suicide King once again. They begin to boo out of instinct, but from the somber and troubled expression on King's face more than one is given pause...

"Right. I'm gonna make this quick. You people think what just happened was pretty funny, I bet? Ha, ha, King got what was coming to him. Well, you can all stow it. So some chick decides she rather sleep with a jackass like Neilsen than me? Hell, plenty of people all over the world are into bestiality. Michelle will pay in good time. But for now, other people need to be addressed."

"Neilsen... believe it or not, there's somebody who you have embarassed more than me. No, not your mother... well yes, your mother, but she's not who I am talking about. No, I am talking about someone who you ridiculed, belittled, abused, and nearly destroyed. This person has been at me non-stop since you came back for a chance to wipe that smirk off your face, and I have decided to grant it. Since you're back in the SWF now, I'm sure you'll love to say hello to this man... your former Packmate... a man you once stomped in the testes SIXTY SEVEN CONSECUTIVE TIMES. And despite all that abuse at your sick little sadistic hands, he rose to become the LONGEST reigning Hardcore champion EVER. That's right Simba; he outstripped your combined reigns by MONTHS. On the next show, rest assured that this man will have.."

"HIS REVENGE."

"Next and more pleasantly... Dratch, you're an idiot. You're fired. I will immediately begin interviewing for a new head of security. If you're interested and god forbid qualified, post your resumes as www.swf.com/dratchisafuckingloser."

"Finally, tonight I have a special little present for my good buddy Mark's hometown. Since you all thought that what happened to me was so freakin' hilarious, I've got a little something for you too! Guess what?"

"No main event for you twerps. You like relationship drama so much, get your asses home and watch The Bachelor. Night!"

FADE OUT

FADE BACK IN

"Crap. Forgot something. Next week's main event will be Tom Flesher versus Frost for the Heavyweight Title. Tune in, and show some goddamned respect this time."

April 15, 2003

Other than the lack of a main event, a rather good show I thought. Good job everyone.

SWF SMARKDOWN!

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