SWF A Side Effect Of Global Warming

[King Cucaracha 0]

"You've got the touch...

You've got the POWEEEERRR!"

 

(Thoth's right, "The Touch is fucking awesome.)

 

And as that fucking awesome theme music hits, SWF's A Side Effect Of Global Warming gets underway with the entrance of two SWF veterans. Thoth leads the way with a grim sneer on his face, with Nathaniel Kibagami following behind him. Sauntering down the ramp Thoth stops and takes a quick look around the crowd, shaking his head sadly and remarking "this is what we've come to" with a very sarcastic tone. Kibagami smiles. He doesn't seem to actually register anything going on around him. But he's smiling. You join the dots on that one.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your opening contest and is scheduled for one fall. Your referee, Mister Ced Ordonez! Introducing first, being accompanied to the ring by NATHANIEL KIBAGAMI! From Kobe, Japan... weighing in at two hundred and fifty one pounds. A former SWF World Heavyweight Champion, ladies and gentlemen, this, is, TTHHHHHOOOOOOOOOTTHHHHHHHH!!!!"

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!

 

Climbing up the ring steps Thoth casts another disapproving look across the Memphis crowd, before entering.

 

"From the looks of things, Thoth doesn't look best pleased to be here tonight." observes Mak Francis.

 

"I can hardly blame him for that." King shrugs. "Add it up. It's Landon Maddix's SWF, the show's got the most ridiculous name I've ever heard, we're in Hicksville USA and he's being marketed in a match against a dancing Japanese masked man. You'd be forgiven for thinking the whole thing was a rib on the guy if the guy running the show weren't so intellectually challenged. And if it is, he's not seeing the funny side."

 

As Thoth gets the check over from Ced, he suddenly calls to the referee to a stop and sighs. Rolling his eyes he drags Ced to face the main camera and asks him to get it over with. Assuming he means the foreign object search Ced frisks him again, but Thoth pulls him away and next to him. Confusion reigns, Thoth motioning to Ced and the referee not getting it. Until that is Thoth does a couple of quick steps.

 

"Hang on just a second... maybe we spoke too soon."

 

Ced looks rightly surprised, Thoth certainly not into the idea but remarking that "this is what we're here for, right?" and telling him to go ahead.

 

"Are we really going to see the epic danceoff nobody paid to see!" exclaims King.

 

Letting the ref take the lead Thoth adopts a stance, Ced counting from 3 down to 1...

 

 

 

...and as Ced starts dancing, Thoth fakes out and just walks away dryly shaking his head. Ced keeps on dancing to the crowd's delight, until Thoth rounds up behind him and clips him across the back of the head with a slap.

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

 

"Well, that was awesome." smiles King.

 

"I guess Thoth's made his point."

 

"Yes. And it was awesome."

 

Getting back down to referee duties Ced reminds Thoth that he'd better keep his hands off of him once the bell rings, a warning Thoth seems to completely ignore as he calmly strolls over to a corner.

 

Meanwhile it's countdown time as "Hung Up" by Madonna begins to play, the stage being covered by one large, holographic DDR stage. Eventually the intro runs to a close and as the song picks up and so does the ACTION~ as the stage is filled with a bevvy of scantily female dancers. The lights in the arena strobe out as The Dance Dance Dragon steps through the entrance doors and busts out some hot ass moves!

 

"And ladies and gentlemen, his opponent. From Osaka, Japan... he weighs one hundred, ninety nine pounds... "THE STRONG STYLE PARTY ANIMAL"... the DANCE! DANCE! DDRRRRRRRRAAAAAAGGOOOOOOOOOOONN!!!!"

 

"YYEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

"So it will be a battle of the dancing Japanese, or at least the one time dancing Japanese and the always dancing Japanese Dance Dance Dragon! Dragon's had his problems lately with MANSON but he's got to focus on Thoth tonight, stepping in with a former SWF World Champion this could be one of the toughest tests of his career to date."

 

"Did you just say Dragon needs to focus?" sneers King. "As if it were something you might expect to happen? As if he were some normal professional wrestler, instead of some crazy Japanese culture inspired freakshow?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Oh, okay, just checking."

 

Having danced his way down the aisle, Dragon slides into the ring. Off comes the jacket as Dragon is ready to go. Presumably. We can't see his face under the mask (duh!) but one can only presume he's ready to go. Thoth watches on from the corner as Dragon keeps a look out while his dance troupe leave.

 

 

Big mistake, as Thoth attacks from behind!

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

 

"And Thoth getting the jump before the bell can even sound!"

 

 

*DINGDINGDING!*

 

Despite the referee's protests, Thoth pounds away on the back of The Dance Dance Dragon repeatedly before setting him up for an irish whip. Back shoots Dragon and into a hard back elbow. Down he goes as Thoth drops to his knees and follows up with a blatant choke which earns him another reprimand from the ref.

 

"ONE!"

"TWO!"

"THRE...!"

 

Thoth releases the choke, only to re-apply it...

 

"ONE!"

"TWO!"

"THREE!"

"FO..."

 

Another break by Thoth, right on time, keeps him from being DQed but earns him no fans in Music City. Meanwhile, Kibagami roams up the aisle waving for Dragon's dancers to come back and party with him, to no avail.

 

"Looks like Thoth's got some built up frustrations of his own." remarks King.

 

"Well Thoth's not really been his old self since returning to the SWF. Granted, his old self is a lofty standard to set for anyone, but sometimes it seems like Thoth's mindset isn't as sharp as it needs to be, like he feels he has nothing to prove to anyone. Perhaps that's all changed?"

 

Thoth puts the boots to Dragon now, stomping The Masked Dance Assassin before getting in the masked man's masked face and reminding him, as if neccessary, that he's in there with a former World Champion. And that he "hates dancing". With a handful of tassels Thoth then drags Dragon back to his feet and hangs his arms up over the top rope. A couple of quick knees to the gut soften Dragon up before Thoth pins down the head and drives the point of the elbow into the external ocipital pro... uh, the back of the head. Dragon stumbles across the ring, reeling from that shot. But when Thoth follows after him he gets surprised by Dragon, who wheels around and...

 

 

*SLAP!*

 

"WHOOOOOOOO!"

 

...connects with a knifedge chop.

 

*SLAP!*

 

"WHOOOOOOOO!"

 

...a second!

 

 

*SLAP!*

 

"WHOOOOOOOO!"

 

...and a third, backing Thoth up across the ring and forcing him to go to the eyes. Unfortunately, Dragon's mask has a panel over the eyes, putting pay to that plan and earning Thoth a big forearm to the jaw for his efforts, hitting him in mid "WTF" expletive!

 

"Now how is that fair, being allowed to wear a protective item of clothing to the ring to prevent certain attacks?"

 

"You mean certain attacks that are illegal, like thumbs to the eyes?" Mak asks not so sincerely.

 

"Whatever attacks. I mean, you can't come in wearing a suit of armour just because you don't want to get hit in the chest, can you? Come on. This is pro-wrestling, not football. We don't wear pads here."

 

"What about elbowpads?"

 

Realising his point is going nowhere King concedes defeat in the only way he knows how.

 

"Shut up."

 

Dragon tries to control Thoth with a side headlock, only to get shot off into the ropes. Standing his ground Thoth is able to muscle up and knock the dancing dragon down on the rebound with a shoulder tackle. After a moment to think about it Thoth realises Dragon isn't getting up just yet and takes off into the ropes, sensing that maybe he's playing into Dragon's hands. Sure enough, DDD rolls over. Thoth goes over the roadblock. But he very quickly stops, waiting for Dragon to get to his feet and nonchalantly elbowing him in the face.

 

"Thoth is a veteran, he's way too smart and sly to be lead into anything like that." Mak admits.

 

Bringing Dragon up from one knee Thoth strikes him with another elbow. And then a second.

 

 

*SLAP!*

 

"WHOOOOOOOO!"

 

Dragon shows his tenacity, not backing down and chopping Thoth again. Not a fan of that, Thoth learns from his earlier mistake and finds a shortcut that works this time, stomping Dragon's foot, then grabbing the tassles on the back of his mask and lurching him back down to the canvas.

 

"Thoth is a veteran." re-iterates Mak. "And he really doesn't need to be taking these kind of shortcuts. But I guess it's more fun this way, right King?"

 

"Always nice to see another guy coming around to my way of thinking. I salute you Thoth."

 

A scoop and a slam puts Dragon where he wants him, before Thoth follows up off the ropes with a POINTY elbow drop! He covers, although very nonchalantly...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

No.

 

Thoth pulls Dragon back up, by the mask of course which earns him some reprimanding from referee Ced Ordonez. From the outside Kibagami decides to try and distract him by pulling on his pant leg, which is really more annoying than distracting. Luckily Thoth didn't really need the distraction anyway, executing a Snap Suplex and covering again...

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

No.

 

"This is all looking very comfortable for Thoth."

 

"Maybe a little too comfortable." suggets Mak. "Wouldn't be the first time we've seen someone under-estimating and taking it easy with Dance Dance Dragon."

 

Thoth executes a second Snap Suplex on Dragon and tries again for the cover...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

Kickout again.

 

Asking the crowd if he should try a third one, Thoth waits for their reaction before immediately dismissing it. Doesn't matter what it wasn't you understand, he just wanted something to dismiss.

 

"Thoth winding up the crowd now, instead of paying attention to the match. I really have to question where his head is right now. Not to mention Kibagami's?"

 

"Kibs' head is probably where mine should be now, happily swimming in liquor."

 

As Dragon drags himself up Thoth lands another elbow, following that up with a European Uppercut against the ropes. An irish whip sends Triple D for the ride and on the rebound, Thoth lands a back elbow, making a quick cover straight after...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

No.

 

On goes a side headlock by Thoth, making the smaller Dragon carry his weight.

 

"THOTH SUCKS!"

"THOTH SUCKS!"

"THOTH SUCKS!"

"THOTH SUCKS!"

 

With the crowd on his back Thoth decides to spite them, coming up with Dragon in tow and clubbing him in the back again. Another clubbing forearm lands before Thoth re-applies the headlock with a smirk, "NO DANCING TONIGHT" his insistence to the fans. Dragon doesn't get trapped for long though, pushing Thoth off into the ropes. Back comes Thoth with a shoulderblock though which sends Dragon flying.

 

"Speaking of liquor, Thoth should have thought about bringing a flask out with him. This'd be at least the eighth chance at a drinks break so far and we're only a few minutes in."

 

"Did you ever try that in your career King?"

 

"Bring a flask with me? Only if I thought it could potentially be used as a weapon, like if it were solid silver maybe."

 

"Silly question."

 

Thoth takes his sweet time in following up, seeing no need to over-exert himself As he brings Dragon slowly up, Thoth paintbrushes the back of the mask, then lands a forearm to the side of the head. And another. Thoth then wrings out the arm before whipping Dragon across the ring, out of one corner and into the opposite one. With Dragon slumped in the corner, Thoth charges in looking to crush DDD. But, The Masked Dance Assassin is a step ahead and raises a boot, which Thoth runs right into face-first!

 

"YYYEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!"

 

"Thoth took too much time on that ocassion though."

 

Back staggers Thoth, shaking off the cobwebs as he makes another charge, only to run into another raised boot! Thoth decides that the third time is the charm though and tries again. This time Dragon throws up both feet and although Thoth doesn't get smacked in the face by either, Dragon does catch him in a headscissors. Letting go of the ropes behind him, Dragon then falls back as if executing a hurricanrana, but guiding Thoth face-first into the top turnbuckle with the headscissors!!

 

"YYYEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

"Wow! A little bit of improvisation by The Dance Dance Dragon right there!" cheers Mak.

 

"Or, in other words, a fluke manoeuvre."

 

Dragon ducks out and back into the ring as Thoth groggily pulls himself up with use of the same turnbuckle his brains were scrambled on moments earlier. By the shoulder Dragon turns Thoth around, rocking him with a right hand.

 

*SLAP!*

 

"WHOOOOOOOO!"

 

...chop. And a right hand.

 

*SLAP!*

 

"WHOOOOOOOO!"

 

...chop. Right hand.

 

*SLAP!*

 

"WHOOOOOOOO!"

 

Chop, Right hand.

 

"It's a Violence Party in Memphis! That's why they call him The Strong Style Party Animal!"

 

"That's why you call him that. You and other idiots who like stupid nicknames."

 

Under the barrage Thoth falls to his knees, as Dragon poses for the Memphis crowd. Sensing the tide changing, or perhaps just growing bored of standing around outside doing nothing much at all, Kibs pats Thoth on the shoulder and 'helpfully' tells him to get back up already.

 

"This would be a major upset if Dragon could pull this victory off. And a huge upset for Thoth's career here in the SWF, he needs to shape up and quick!"

 

As he gets back up, Dragon takes Thoth across the ring with an irish whip, following in behind and leaping up for a monkey flip. Thoth takes the buckles but dives out Dragon's path...

 

 

...only for Dragon to land safely on the middle rope!

 

"Nice!"

 

All the tapping of his temple in the world won't convince the fans that Thoth is smart, especially with his back turned on his opponent. Kibagami offers more sage advice, telling Thoth (or "doofus", to be more precise) to turn around. And he does so, just as Dragon vaults off the buckle with a mid-air 180, wiping Thoth out with a high-crossbody block...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

Kickout by Thoth!

 

"A nearfall, but Dragon is building some momentum now." Mak enthuses.

 

First to his feet, The Dance Dance Dragon is still a step ahead of his opponent, scything Thoth down with a drop-toe-hold the moment he lazily reaches his feet. Thoth comes right back to all fours, right into an Oklahoma Roll from the Osaka native...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

Kickout again!

 

Back up scrambles Thoth, instinctively ducking his head as he finds himself face to mask with Dragon, who's arm is cocked back ready to strike. The proves a mistake as Dragon dives right over, catching the legs for a sunset flip. Thoth keeps his footing though, not allowing Triple D to take him down as he reaches despairingly for the ropes. Kibagami reaches up and pushes the middle rope in a little more... but it's still JUST out of reach... and Dragon takes Thoth down...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

NO! Kickout for a third time in quick succession!

 

"Dragon looking for the quick fall, the flash pin, which could be his best shot tonight at knocking off Thoth."

 

"Okay, I'm worried now. Mainly because you might be right about Thoth, he's got to switch into another gear or something because he's wrestling like he's stuck in first at the moment."

 

The sudden pins haven't got Thoth fooled this time though, using his superior intillect to come up with a new gameplan, staying low to the canvas instead of rushing back to his feet like before. Finally Thoth manages to get the jump on his masked opponent as he scrambles to his feet, via a quick jab to the breadbasket, landing an elbow to the back of the skull as he comes back to his own vertical base and earning him a chance to catch his breath.

 

"Okay, that's better." sighs King.

 

"But there's still not that pace in anything Thoth does, no real edge or energy. He's just treating it like a casual stroll in the park and that's a dangerous way to approach any match."

 

Thoth checks his nose is still intact from the earlier drop-toe-hold, but Dragon is back up so the nose will have to wait. A knee to the gut doubles The Strong Style Party Animal over, setting up an irish whip. Thoth crouches to the canvas to get added purchase on the whip, giving Dragon some added whiplash as he hits the turnbuckles. Stumbling out of the corner Dragon just about stays on his feet. Until Thoth steps in and executes a quick Swinging Neckbreaker, reaching out for a leg to apply the cover...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

No!

 

KIBAGAMI

Hey, Ced, you fuckin' suck man. For real.

 

Referee Ced Ordonez doesn't give an answer for that constructive criticism, simply telling Kibagami to stay in his corner and out of the action. Meanwhile, that is allowing Thoth to apply a blatant choke, behind the referee's back! Kibagami keeps Ced occupied for a few second and he's none the wiser as he sees Thoth innocently pulling Dragon off the canvas. Another irish whip by Thoth sends Triple D into the ropes, dropping down as Dragon bounces back. Up and over the roadblock goes Dragon, hitting the ropes once more. Thoth is waiting on him this time and catches Dragon under the armpits with the hands, lifting Dragon off the canvas for a flapjack type move. We won't know what move exactly, as Dragon has the counter for it and he uses his upward momentum as a boost, catching Thoth around the head and snapping him over with a Hurricanrana!

 

"YYEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!"

 

Both men are down now, prompting Ced to lay on a standing ten.

 

"DEE - DEE - DEE!"

"DEE - DEE - DEE!"

"DEE - DEE - DEE!"

"DEE - DEE - DEE!"

 

"Dee dee dee?"

 

"Yeah, DDD. It's his high-score name." Mak explains.

 

"Oh. Of course." despairs King. "Give me a break."

 

Both Thoth and Dragon use the count to recharge their batteries, the count reaching '5' before either begins to stir. At '6' Dragon is up and signalling for a forearm, the full backing of the fans behind him, while Thoth is encouraged (somewhat) by Kibagami to get up and turn around. Which he does... right into a forearm smash! And another! Three, four, five, six... it's a whole FLURRY of forearms, with Dragon cupping Thoth behind the head to prevent him from falling to the canvas before he's done smacking him!

 

"Sssttrroooonngg sssttyyyylllleeee!!!"

 

Dragon finally ends the flurry, but Thoth is still standing and throws an elbow of his ow... NO! Dragon ducks...

 

 

*SLAP!*

 

"WHOOOOOOOO!"

 

...and connects with a knifedge chop as Thoth turns around!

 

"Dragon is still a step ahead here."

 

Away reels Thoth, as Dragon does a quick spin, just to remind everyone he is The Masked Dance Assassin. As Thoth turns around Dragon is then waiting on him. A quick kick sets Thoth up, Dragon catching Thoth under the jaw in a 3/4 headlock and vaulting up. Backflipping over, Dragon is looking for the Dance Dance DDT...

 

 

 

...but Thoth pushes Dragon up and over, Triple D landing safely on his feet behind but getting caught with a mule kick to the gut!

 

"Ooh, that might have been a little low." Mak speculates, as Dragon doubles up in pain.

 

"Looked okay to me."

 

Thoth puts Dragon down on his BUTT with a snapmare takeover, not waiting for any questions to be asked about the validity of the kick. Waving Ced out of the way, he comes off the ropes, slamming a knee into the back of the head of his seated opponent!!

 

"OOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

 

"Referee's going to let it go and Thoth could have the match right here." Mak calls. "You know, IF he covers him!"

 

Apparantly the cover isn't a major priority, at least not compared to being a dick to the crowd. Thoth motions to Dragon and questions why he's not dancing anymore, then helps the poor guy out by lifting his limp arm and making him do some Saturday Night Fever motions while flat on his back.

 

"Get down, funky cat!" laughs King. "Or, something like that."

 

Once he's made his point, Thoth finally makes the cover...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kickout!

 

"Talk about taking way too long to follow up. Sheesh!"

 

"The Night Fever opportunity was just too good to pass up." shrugs King. "I mean, come on, what's funnier than something happening to an unconscious person without them knowing? Remember what we did to you at the Christmas Party?"

 

"...uhm... no."

 

"Exactly!"

 

"LET'S GO DRAG - ON!"

*clap clap clapclapclap*

"LET'S GO DRAG - ON!"

*clap clap clapclapclap*

 

Not impressed with the support his opponent is getting Thoth encourages them to try a bit harder. Before kneeing Dragon in the face so it was all for nothing.

 

"Was Thoth always this much of a jerk in the ring?" Mak wonders aloud.

 

"Eh, more or less."

 

Bringing Dragon up again Thoth scoops him up, looking for a body slam. The lazy scoop is countered by some kicking and struggling on Dragon's part, taking him up and over the back. As he lands, he hooks Thoth up in a full nelson, ready for a Dragon Suplex, but never really in any danger Thoth breaks free. His back elbow misses though and Dragon does connect with a PALM STRIKE!

 

"YYYYEEEEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!"

 

With Thoth staggered, Dragon attempts to put him on his shoulders with a fireman's carry. A little too big for that, Thoth is able to escape, but is beaten to the attack by a kick to the back of his knee. A second kick connects. And then a third. Dragon then vaults up looking for an enziguri... but MISSES!

 

"Nobody home on that one!"

 

Looking irritated Thoth rubs his calf, watching Dragon get to his feet. With the wind temporarily knocked out of him Triple D isn't able to follow through on any attack and just stands there in front of Thoth for a second. Until Thoth decides 'to hell with it' and PUNTS DRAGON BELOW THE BELT!!

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

 

"Hey... what the hell was that!?" snaps Mak.

 

"Again, looked okay to me."

 

 

*DINGDINGDING!*

 

Not to referee Ordonez though, as he signals for the bell with Dragon heaped over.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen, your winner of the match as a result of a DISQUALIFICATION... THE DANCE DANCE DDRRRRRAAAAAAAGGOOOOOOOOONN!!!"

 

"YYYYEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!"

 

Wiping away mock tears, Thoth shoves Ced aside as he attempts to ask him what the hell he was thinking.

 

"What the hell was he thinking?" asks Mak, wondering the same. "Thoth just got himself disqualified, with the most blatant lowblow you're likely to see in professional wrestling."

 

"Win or lose, doesn't matter, Thoth made his point."

 

"What point is that exactly."

 

"It's fun to kick people in the groin?"

 

Shoving Ced aside again Thoth suddenly decides he isn't done just yet and picks Dragon up off the canvas and to his feet. Holding him by the mask, Thoth says something unaudible to the cameras to him, before elevating him off the mat. He turns Dragon upside down, before delivering the CRADLE TOMBSTONE in the dead centre of the ring!

 

"Riot Of The Blood! Again, no need for that whatsoever!" Mak criticises.

 

Thoth puts a lateral press on Triple D and calls Ced over, but the ref wants no part of it. So Thoth instead calls Kibagami over to count his pinfall.

 

 

"ONE!"

 

"TWO!"

 

 

...Kibagami delays.

 

"What are you doing? Count!"

 

"I'm swerving you man!" slurs Kibs.

 

"Just fucking count, numbnuts!"

 

"Fuck you man!"

 

 

...

 

"THREE!"

 

Once the three finally comes down from the un-co-operative and slightly un-co-ordinated Kibagami Thoth stands up and celebrates his 'victory', to the derision of the crowd. Kibagami raises his hand and Thoth hugs him in his 'elation', but gets pushed off by Kibs who finds the clinch a little too "ghey", with a 'he' in the middle.

 

"There's the point Francis!" smiles King. "If Thoth wanted to beat this goof, he could have done so any time he wanted."

 

"Then why didn't he!?"

 

"Well... uh... well you'd have to ask him that, wouldn't you genius! What am I, psychic!?"

 

As Thoth chuckles to himself at the reaction of the crowd, Kibagami makes a cover on Dragon and asks Thoth to count, only for his buddy to playfully flip him off. So Kibs quickly gives up and leaves with Thoth.

 

"Two very enigmatic individuals right there." Mak sighs, as they leave 'victorious'.

[King Cucaracha 0]

FADE IN

 

“Mak Francis and the Suicide King, back with you,” says Mak, “and we’ve got something of a special attraction coming up next, as Taiga Star gets ready to take on Mister Bruner. King, Mister Bruner has an open contract to face anybody at any time, but I think even he was surprised to see that he was taken up on his offer by the World Cruiserweight Champion! I guess she wants to prove to the SWF that she’s not afraid of anybody, even the biggest dog in the yard!”

 

“Well, isn’t that precious!” chides King. “That’s real cute: Taiga Star isn’t afraid of Mister Bruner. That’ll look terrific on her headstone!”

 

“You can dismiss her if you want to,” replies Mak, “but Taiga has proven that she can press anybody to the limit; she made a very strong showing in the Cold Front Classic… better than Mister Bruner, if I recall!”

 

“I tell you what,” says King, “I’ll give you a million dollars to say that to his face; I’ve never actually met a quadriplegic before… Look, Francis, it’s real easy to say that she lasted longer than he did, until you take into account whom the two of them were matched up against. It’s hardly a shame to lose to a former Heavyweight Champion!”

 

“Be that as it may, Taiga Star is not going to roll over for the Bully tonight. She’s going to give it everything she’s got, and Mister Bruner had better not take her lightly!”

 

“Says you, she’s not going to roll over!” replies King. “The only question in my mind is whether she’s going to lie down, or get put down! Bruner’s still got a big chip on his shoulder from the Cold Front Classic, and Sir Marvelous has pledged to turn him loose on the SWF! Taiga Star would be well advised to let discretion be the better part of valor, lest she find herself faced with forfeiting the World Cruiserweight Championship due to injury!”

 

“You don’t think that one of Taiga’s challengers could have put a price on her head, do you?” asks Mak.

 

“I think that Mister Bruner would cripple Taiga Star for free,” replies King. “But, now that you mention it, it’s certainly not like Sir Marvelous is above selling his man’s services to the highest bidder. It wouldn’t surprise me the least little bit if that isn’t exactly what happened!”

 

“Well, either way, we should see an interesting clash of styles here in a few minutes,” says Mak, “as we send it up to Funyon in the ring!”

 

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

 

“The following contest,” booms Funyon, “is scheduled for one fall!” With that, Busta Rhymes’ “Call the Ambulance” begins blasting through the speakers:

 

“Now, motherfuckin’ case closed... (Huh!)

The shit blow your speaker; keep turnin' your base low... (Huh!)

Spaz out because I motherfuckin’ say so... (Huh!)

Before I blow this bitch like we down in Waco... (Huh!)”

 

 

“Making their way to the ring at this time,” continues Funyon, “introducing first, the manager: SIR MARVELOUS! He represents, from the Bedford-Stuyvesant section of Brooklyn, in New York City, weighing four hundred fifty-five pounds… BIIIIIG BUUUUULY BRUUUUUNER!” The Bully proceeds to the ring with the subtlety of an earthquake, as his manager leads the way. The fans surrounding the barricade wrestle with the desire to badger the big man and the fear that he may reach over the railing and throttle them, and appear to have decided, to a man, to let the man mountain to move on unmolested. Marvelous remains on the arena floor as Bruner heads up the steel steps, and then enters the ring over the top rope; he removes his jacket and fedora and hands them over the top rope to a ring attendant, who is not permitted to leave ringside until Anderson verifies that the articles are being handled to his satisfaction. Bruner adjusts his tie as his music fades out, and focuses on the entryway as he awaits his opponent for the evening.

 

The lights dim as Hole’s “Be a Man” begins playing, and the fans begin to cheer as the World Cruiserweight Champion makes her way out to the ring, accompanied by El Gordo Gigante.

 

“His opponent,” shouts Funyon, “is accompanied to the ring by El Gordo Gigante! From Helltown, in Haverhill, Massachusetts, and weighing ‘none of your damned business,’ here is the SWF World Cruiserweight Champion… TAIGA STAAAAAR!” Taiga tosses the Cruiserweight Title over the top rope as she rolls underneath the bottom rope to enter the ring, and then grabs the belt as she pops back up to her feet. She eyes Bruner warily as she heads over to the nearby corner, climbing up to the middle turnbuckles to salute the fans.

 

“You know, you mentioned a contrast in styles earlier,” notes King, as Taiga climbs down from the ropes. “And the funny thing to me is that Mister Bruner may actually wrestle more like a stereotypical cruiserweight than the Cruiserweight Champion; he certainly employs more high-risk moves than she does.”

 

“Indeed,” agrees Mak, as Taiga’s music fades out. “And what makes it even worse is the fact that there’s such a tremendous size difference here, that Taiga’s going to have a hard time being effective with her ground-and-pound style.” Taiga hands her title over to senior referee Matthew Kivell, who delivers it to Funyon as he exits the ring, and then signals the timekeeper to ring the bell, signifying the start of the match:

 

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

 

“Bell’s gone,” says Mak, “and we’re underway!” Before she even realizes what is happening, Taiga finds herself being backed into a corner by Mister Bruner; the Bully lunges forward with a right hand, but Taiga ducks out of the corner to his left, and catches him as he turns around with a forearm to the chest, which he barely even takes notice of.

 

“Look at that” barks King. “She barely comes up to his ribcage! She practically has to get on her toes to hit him in the chin! How’s she supposed to be able to knock him down!”

 

“How about you let her worry about that,” snipes Mak, as Bruner backs Taiga back across the ring. “Taiga can take care of herself in that ring; she didn’t exactly become Cruiserweight Champion by accident!” The Haverhill Hellcat again evades a right cross from Bruner, and delivers several blows to his midsection.

 

“Maybe not,” replies King, as Bruner effortlessly pushes her across the ring, “but there aren’t exactly guys the size of Bruner competing in the Cruiserweight Division either, are there!” Bruner again backs Taiga into a corner but, this time, he feints with his right to draw Taiga into a goozle with his expectant left hand. The Bully hurls Taiga back into the corner, and follows up with a crushing body block! He grabs Taiga by the wrist and whips her across the ring, charging into the corner after her, but the Anti-Diva rolls out of the way, taking advantage of an off-balance Bruner as he staggers out of the corner to surprise him in a rollup!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

CRASH!

 

 

 

 

The Bully kicks out with explosive force, so much so, that he launches the comparatively diminutive Star over the top rope and out to the arena floor! Bruner rolls out to the floor to give pursuit, but El Gordo Gigante waddles over to stand between Taiga and Bruner. Bruner glares at Gordo, as if contemplating knocking him out, just for the hell of it, but then decides that the roly-poly ring escort is not worth his time.

 

“That was tremendous!” exclaims Mak, as Gordo helps Taiga back to her feet. “I can’t remember the last time I saw someone kick out that forcefully!”

 

“I don’t think I’ve EVER seen it!” adds King. Bruner heads towards the steel steps in order to make his way back into the ring, and Taiga decides that it’s a perfect opportunity to catch her opponent by surprise; she cues Gordo by patting him on the hip, a fraction of a second before she shoves him into Bruner’s back! The Bully spins around, his agitation visible even from behind his shades; he rocks Gordo’s jaw with a hard right after hard right, and then grabs him by the wrist before whipping him across the arena floor, and into the barricade, while Taiga sneaks onto the apron behind him.

 

“El Gordo Gigante may have just signed his own death warrant with that screw-up!” snaps King, as Bruner starts to kick Gordo in the side.

 

“Mister Bruner needs to stop worrying about El Gordo, and pay closer attention to his opponent!” Sure enough, the Anti-Diva darts across the apron and leaps off with reckless abandon, slamming both feet into Bruner’s back with a running missile dropkick, and sending him tumbling over Gordo and the barricade, and into the crowd! Taiga scrambles to her feet and barks at Gordo to remain on all fours; as she sees the Bully get to on knee, she dashes across the arena floor, takes a running leap onto Gordo’s back, hops from his back to the barricade, and then dives into the crowd, smashing into the side of Bruner’s head with a flying elbow smash! With a frustrated sigh, Kivell puts his count on hold and rolls out to the floor, making his way into the crowd as he tries to steer the wrestlers back into the ring.

 

“Excellent use of misdirection by Taiga Star, to get Mister Bruner to take his focus off of her, so that she could get him at a disadvantage,” says Mak. Realizing that letting Bruner get back to his feet would be a very bad idea, the Haverhill Hellcat “borrows” a steel chair from a fan at ringside, folds it up, and smashes Bruner in the head with it! Kivell yells at them to get back in the ring, but Taiga ignores him, opting instead to keep slamming the chair into the small of Bruner’s back.

 

“Now why is Kivell allowing this to go on?” demands King. “Taiga Star should have been disqualified! At the very least, it should have been a double-countout by now!” Sir Marvelous, his face a mask of impotent rage, screams at Kivell from the ringside area, demanding that he do something about what’s going on.

 

“I’ve got to disagree,” replies Mak, as Taiga orders Gordo to come into the crowd with her. “You’ve got to keep in mind, King, that we’re pretty much surviving on the live crowd right now; we can’t afford to alienate the paying customers by cheating them out of a match with something like a double-countout! I think that Matt Kivell is doing a very good job, using his discretion as a senior official, to allow this match to continue; he knows that it’ll get back into the ring soon enough!” Taiga orders Gordo to hold the steel chair in front of Bruner’s face, as she waves the fans clear to get a running start.

 

“In the meantime, we’ve got a handicap match taking place outside the ring!” King points out. Taiga breaks into a run and lifts her leg into the air to blast Mister Bruner in the face with a chair-assisted Yakuza Kick! Bruner staggers back towards the barricade, and then Taiga and Gordo lock hands to rush towards the Bully and knock him backwards, over the barricade and back to the ringside area with a double clothesline!

 

“Anyway, King,” adds Mak, as Taiga and Gordo return to the ringside area, “Kivell technically can’t disqualify Taiga Star for what’s going on outside the ring, so it’s really just matter of him deciding not to administer the double-countout!”

 

“Can you hear yourself?” asks an incredulous King. “So, you’re saying that you can stab somebody outside the ring, as long as it’s outside the ring?”

 

“Now you’re just being ridiculous,” chastises Mak, as Taiga orders Gordo to roll Bruner back into the ring. “Nothing near that drastic has been happening here; you’re just trying to make a point!” Taiga climbs back up onto the apron, and then ascends to the corner, scaling the turnbuckles. The Haverhill Hellcat squares herself before leaping from the top turnbuckles and driving her full weight into Bruner’s chest with a double foot stomp! She collapses atop the Bully as Kivell dives into position to count:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

“He should not even be counting that!” roars King.

 

 

 

 

THR— NO!

 

 

 

 

“That idiot Kivell should not even have counted that,” barks King, as Bruner gets his foot on the bottom rope. “The only reason that Taiga Star even had a chance to go for the cover was thanks to some of the most flagrant double-teaming I’ve seen in a long time!” Electing not to waste energy trying to pull Bruner to his feet, the Anti-Diva waits for him to roll to his knees before charging towards him to deliver a running kneelift to the face! She delivers a few more, keeping Bruner off-balance, until the Bully pushes her away as he uses the ropes to get back to his feet.

 

“King, I know that complaining about the referees is, like, your second-favorite pastime, but how about you let the guy do his job?” challenges Mak, as Taiga grabs Bruner’s wrist in an obviously futile attempt to whip him across the ring. “Are you angling for a guest referee’s job tonight? Relax a little, man!” Bruner easily reverses the whip and sends Taiga across the ring; The Haverhill Hellcat doesn’t even have to duck to get underneath the extended left arm that’s waiting for her as she rebounds…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… But the Bully recalibrates with his right arm, quickly swinging his body around and levels Taiga with a clothesline so ferocious that she’s practically standing upside-down, balancing precariously vertically on her neck for a few seconds, before finally collapsing face-first on the canvas!

 

“What a shot!” exclaims Mak, as the fans release a collective gasp of awe.

 

“I believe she irritated Mister Bruner,” King says snidely.

 

“She certainly did,” agrees Mak, as Bruner heads over towards the corner. “He damn near decapitated her!” Bruner turns his back to the corner and eases himself onto the middle turnbuckles.

 

“And look at this,” says King, as Bruner pats his right leg. “If he hits this, it’s all over!” Bruner leaps from the middle turnbuckles, leg extended to deliver a guillotine legdrop…

 

 

CRASH!

 

 

“He missed it!” cries King. Taiga scrambles over to jump on top of Bruner to try and surprise him with a pin:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

“We could have a big upset here!” shouts Mak.

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

“Or not,” says Mak, as Bruner sends Taiga flying halfway across the ring with a very forceful kickout. “Did you see the ease he kicked out with?”

 

“He was at least four feet from a pin, Francis,” agrees King. Taiga waits on Bruner to roll over onto all fours and tries to get lucky again with another running kneelift attack, but Bruner gets up surprisingly quickly, and steps out of the way; Taiga stumbles off-balance towards the ropes, and Bruner scoops her up as she rebounds with a bearhug…

 

 

BANG!

 

 

Before driving her back down to the canvas with a spike spinebuster! The Bully meanders over towards the ropes before making his way back over to his fallen opponent, measuring her before dropping a big elbow! He lies across her nonchalantly as Kivell counts the shoulders:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

TH—

 

 

 

 

Taiga gets the shoulder up. Bruner pulls her to her feet and delivers a ferocious headbutt that sends Taiga stumbling over to the edge of the ring, collapsing against the middle ropes; the Bully decides to take advantage of the situation by running across the ring, picking up speed as he bounces off the ropes, and runs his leg through the ropes Bossman-style, crushing Taiga between his weight and the rope! Bruner runs back across the ring as Taiga falls backwards to the canvas, and leaps into the air to deliver a big legdrop! He remains in that position as Kivell makes a move to count:

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THR—

 

 

 

 

Taiga once again kicks out from the half-hearted cover. Bruner pulls Taiga back to her feet and whips her into a neutral corner, quickly following up with a running avalanche splash into the corner! Bruner then turns around and grabs onto the ropes with each hand before backing up, squashing Taiga in the corner yet again!

 

“Bruner looks like he’s starting to enjoy himself in there,” says King, as Bruner continues to mash his massive backside up against the Anti-Diva. “It goes to show what a difference it is once the match got back into the ring; Taiga Star should never have allowed the match to leave the crowd.” Kivell orders Bruner to get out of the corner and the Bruner steps away just ahead of the five-count, only to quickly thrust his hind end back into the corner, crushing Taiga against the turnbuckles once more.

 

“Well, right now, the fact that Bruner’s enjoying himself is the only thing that’s giving Taiga a chance,” says Mak, as Bruner pulls away from the corner only to lean back again. “If he’s enjoying himself, he might make a mistake. It’s not really looking like she’s going to win this match any other way!” Bruner steps out of the corner to deliver another crushing body blow, but the Haverhill Hellcat gets both her knees up and drives them into his back! Bruner stumbles forward and quickly spins around to put a quick end to Taiga’s hopes of a comeback with a ferocious backfist, but the Anti-Diva ducks out of the corner and catches him with a stiff reverse knife-edge chop. Taiga runs to the ropes and decides to try her luck with an elbow smash…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… But the Bully knocks her out of the air with a running body-block! Bruner pounds his chest emphatically as the crowd showers him with boos. He pulls Taiga to her feet and grabs her by the wrist, whipping her across the ring and lowering his head as she bounces off the ropes to send her flying overhead with a big back-bodydrop!

 

 

“BIG backdrop!” exclaims Mak, as Bruner plants a foot on Taiga’s chest to go for a pin:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

TH— KICKOUT!

 

 

 

 

“A very nonchalant cover by Mister Bruner,” says King, “but, even then, I can’t believe that Taiga Star could kick out of that!” Bruner pulls Taiga to her feet and leads her over towards the edge of the ring; he lays her against the middle ropes, this time leaning down and through the ropes to choke Taiga out against the middle rope. Kivell begins to deliver a five-count, forcing the Bully to break on four but, as he moves away from the ropes, Bruner distracts Kivell, paving the way for Sir Marvelous to reach up from the arena floor and continue to choke Taiga out!

 

 

BOOOOOOOOOO!

 

 

“Come on, ref!” shouts Mak, as Marvelous continues to hold down. “Do something about Sir Marvelous!”

 

“So, this is unfair,” says King, “but when it was two against one out in the crowd, you were cool with that, huh?” Sir Marvelous finally lets go and flees the area as El Gordo begins to make his way around the ring, leading Mister Bruner to exit the ring and protect his employer. Bruner curls his massive paw into a fist and raises his arm to warn Gordo not to advance; Gordo remains standoffish but, as we see Taiga bumbling her way to the top turnbuckles, it becomes clear that he’s just trying to buy her some time…

 

 

WHACK!

 

 

The Anti-Diva launches herself from the top turnbuckles to crash into Bruner from behind with a flying double axe-handle! Taiga goes to work, attacking Bruner from behind with a series of hard forearm smashes; Marvelous tries to intervene with his cane, raising it up to thrust into the back of Taiga’s head…

 

 

CRACK!

 

 

… But the Haverhill Hellcat sees him coming in her peripheral vision and ducks out of the way, just as Bruner spins around, causing Marvelous to jam the steel handle of the cane until his man’s throat! Anderson’s eyes bulge in horror as he realizes what he just did, and drops his cane, which Taiga quickly picks up!

 

 

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

“The fans are really getting behind Taiga Star here!” says Mak, as she stalks Sir Marvelous menacingly. “They really want her to give Sir Marvelous what he deserves!”

 

“That’s horrible!” snaps King, as Anderson rolls into the ring to get away from her. “I can’t believe you, of all people, are condoning a guy who’s physically disabled getting beat down with a foreign object!”

 

“If he hadn’t used that cane against opponents so many times, I might see your point,” says Mak, as Bruner begins to climb back on the apron. As soon as she sees him, though, Taiga abandons her goal of trying to give Marvelous his comeuppance, and instead rushes across the ring…

 

 

CHING!

 

 

… Dropkicking the top rope as the Bully is straddling it, effectively crotching him on the top rope! Taiga grabs onto the top rope and shakes it up and down, adding injury to insult, until Bruner falls into the ring, clutching his gonads in pain!

 

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

“Man!” cries Mak. “Does that make me glad I’m retired!”

 

“Hell yes!” agrees King. “I wouldn’t even wish that on you!” With Mister Bruner preoccupied with recovery, Taiga turns her attention back to Marvelous who, against all notions of common sense, has inexplicably not vacated the ring. Taiga picks the cane and raises it overhead as Sir Marvelous begins to beg.

 

 

FUCK HIM UP, TAIGA, FUCK HIM UP!

FUCK HIM UP, TAIGA, FUCK HIM UP!

FUCK HIM UP, TAIGA, FUCK HIM UP!

FUCK HIM UP, TAIGA, FUCK HIM UP!

 

 

“This is absolutely shameful!” complains King. “I can’t believe the mob mentality that’s going on here. I hope none of these people vote!” Kivell swoops in behind Taiga to snatch the cane from out of her hands, and Sir Marvelous chooses that as a perfect opportunity to deliver a sneak attack… but the Anti-Diva quickly spins around and blocks his right arm, before scooping him up off the canvas!

 

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

“Look at that!” exclaims Mak, as Taiga continues to lift Sir Marvelous overhead. “Look at the power on display by Taiga Star; that’s almost two hundred pounds of Sir Marvelous that she’s got pressed over her head!” She turns towards Bruner, who is still off-balance from getting crotched, and throws the self-proclaimed Southern Gentleman at him! Bruner breaks Anderson’s fall, but stumbles backwards into the ropes…

 

 

 

Where his arms become trapped!

 

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

“Bruner’s hooked!” shouts Mak. “He’s hooked inna ropes! He’s in no-man’s land right now!” Taiga exhorts the crowd as Bruner howls like a wounded grizzly, trying to get out of his predicament. The Anti-Diva steps out of range of Bruner’s legs, and then begins hammering him in the face with non-stop right hands!

 

“This is an atrocity” bellows King. “There’s no way he can get out of there by himself; I can’t believe that you and these fans can sit here and condone such cheap tactics by the Cruiserweight Champion!” Taiga takes a break from punching Bruner to start choking him; Kivell forces her to break on the four-count but, as he tries to start freeing the big man, Taiga runs across the ring, picking up speed as she bounces off the ropes, and leaps into the air to deliver a diving headbutt to Bruner’s midsection!

 

“I can’t believe that Taiga would stoop so low,” repeats King, as Taiga gently shoves Kivell aside, so that she can continue her assault.

 

“Cut her a break,” replies Mak, as Taiga uses the ropes to balance her as she starts to kick Bruner in his side. “She’s doing what she has to do to try and stay in this match!”

 

“Hah!” exclaims King. “So you admit it! You admit that she can’t compete; she’s got no business in this match, Francis!” Kivell finally separates Taiga from Bruner, and Marvelous uses the distraction to free Bruner’s right arm. The Haverhill Hellcat steps around Kivell to get at her opponent, but the Bully wraps his massive right paw around her much smaller throat; with a look of unfiltered rage on his face, Bruner stands straight up, before lifting Taiga completely off the canvas with just his right arm, walking her over towards the edge of the ring…

 

 

 

THUNK!

 

 

… And throwing her out of the ring and down to the floor with a bone-shattering chokeslam! Taiga bounces off the concrete floor with a sickening thud!

 

 

THAT WAS SICK!

THAT WAS SICK!

THAT WAS SICK!

THAT WAS SICK!

 

 

 

“Oh… My… GOD!” shrieks Mak. “That WAS sick!”

 

“Well, if he wasn’t pissed before,” says King, “he sure as hell is now!” Bruner snarls in Taiga’s general direction before running across the ring, gaining a head of steam as he rushes back towards the entranceway, and the motionless Cruiserweight Champion. He leaps into the air and, unbelievably, sails over the top rope!

 

 

CRASH!

 

 

 

… El Gordo Gigante, in what can only be as a moment of self-sacrifice, rushes across the ring and intercepts the airborne Bully, saving Taiga Star from what would surely have been a fate worse than death, as Bruner splatters him across the entranceway with a plancha!

 

 

HOLY SHIT!

HOLY SHIT!

HOLY SHIT!

HOLY SHIT!

 

 

“Oh my God,” jokes King, “he killed Gordo!” Bruner slowly pulls himself to his feet, and turns his attention back towards the still motionless Taiga Star. The Bully grabs her by the hair and drags her all the way back to ring, where he brutally pulls her up by her hair and rolls her underneath the bottom rope. Bruner climbs up onto the apron and then ascends to the top turnbuckle, waiting patiently for Taiga to stir.

 

“I can’t believe that Taiga Star has anything left after that chokeslam,” says Mak, as Taiga begins coughing fiercely on the canvas.

 

“Hell, I can’t even believe she’s still breathing,” says King. Taiga rolls wearily onto her stomach, and tries to push herself to her hands and knees, still with no sense of what is actually going on.

 

“Look at that,” taunts King, as Taiga struggles to get to one knee. “She doesn’t have a clue where she is… As far as she knows, the match is over!” Bruner continues to wait with the patience of Job for Taiga to get back to her feet; once he sees the whites in her eyes, he swoops down into the ring like the angel of death…

 

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

 

… And turns Taiga inside-out with a diving lariat! Bruner rolls Taiga onto her back and applies a lateral press:

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THR—

 

 

 

 

No! Bruner pulls Taiga up!

 

 

“Uh-oh!” says King, as Bruner pulls Taiga back to her feet. “We know where this is going!” Bruner traps Taiga in a standing headscissors and bends down to grab her in a waistlock before lifting her in the air and driving her back down with a powerbomb…

 

 

But he’s not done yet!

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

Bruner pulls Taiga back up and powerbombs her a second time; he pulls her up yet again and carries her nearer to the corner, before planting her with the third powerbomb! Bruner then steps out onto the apron and climbs up to the top rope, where he squares himself up before leaping back into the ring without hesitation…

 

 

SPLASH!

 

 

… Crushing Taiga beneath him with the Avalanche Splash! Kivell beseeches the Bully with his eyes, as if pleading with him to let Taiga stay down this time, as he drops down to make the count:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

 

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

 

 

 

“Call the Ambulance” begins to play once again, as Bruner rolls out of the ring; from inside, Kivell reaches through the ropes to raise his arm in victory, but the Bully scares him off with a ferocious snarl.

 

“Well, if any of Taiga’s challengers did actually pay Sir Marvelous to have Mister Bruner do a number on her, you can bet they got their money’s worth!” taunts King.

 

“And the moral of the story,” says Mak, “never kick a man in the balls… especially when he’s frikkin’ huge! Let’s get the official word!”

 

 

“Here is your winner,” booms Funyon, “BIIIIIG BULLY BRUUUUUNER!”

 

 

“Well, you’ve got to give Taiga Star credit for not backing down,” says Mak, “but, once the match finally got back in the ring, it was pretty much no contest! Let’s hope that this doesn’t have too detrimental effect on her ability to defend her title. Folks, we’re going to take a brief intermission while we get set up for our next match!”

 

Kivell checks on Taiga to see whether she can move under her own power…

 

 

As we:

FADE OUT

[King Cucaracha 0]

The camera’s focus pops back to ringside in the Fedex Forum. The crowd is at a dull roar, as the beer has had time to set in. “Well, King,” Mak Francis opines. “I'm sure you're excited about this next match. A reunited Slaughterhouse/Five against the Breslins, who have been on a familial tear in their matches lately.”

 

The Suicide King snorts derisively. “Whatever, Francis. The Breslins are going to get a crash course in MANSONOSITY tonight. The cleanup crew will be mopping what's left of them up after this, believe me. MANSON and Michael Alexander were dangerous enough as a tag-team before, but now they're being advised by one of the most dangerous managerial minds in wrestling today. The Breslins have no idea what they're up against.”

 

“Matheson did promise to shake things up,” Mak replies. “And a win over the tag team champions, especially after Luke's non-title win over Va'aiga, will defintely do that. However, can Manson and Alexander's intermittent team experience be enough to counter the incredible synchronization that the Breslin brothers have shown in their tag-team run?”

 

King waves off the implication. “You're ignoring the X-factor of James Matheson, Francis. Not to mention the simple fact that you've got MANSON (hallowed be His Name), an engine of divine destruction, and Michael Alexander, quite possibly the most technically sound wrestler in the ring today. For MANSON's sake, Alexander made Bruner tap out just a month or so ago! Bruner! Do you really the Breslins being able to compete with that, even without Matheson? You're being naive, Francis.”

 

“King, you're discounting the volume of actual team experience here. This is not a one-on-one match, this is a match that is all about teamwork. Even with Matheson there, Slaughterhouse/Five hasn't worked as a team in months! The Breslins are brothers and have been involved in some intense tag team competition. They beat NYC to hold those belts, you know. That means they not only beat Bruner, but SIN as well.”

 

Referee Matt Kivell enters the ring, followed closely by Funyon, microphone in hand. Kivell checks the ropes and turnbuckles after the last match, assuring himself they are still secure. Funyon once more earns his paycheck by proclaiming, “Ladies and Gentleman, the next match is a tag-team contest, with one fall! First, from Greenville, SC, and Denver, CO, escorted to the ring James Matheson, at a combined weight of 441 lbs., they are Michael Alexander and MANSON...SLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGTERHOUSE FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVE!”

 

The house lights grow dim, while the rumbling of an imminent storm sets forth smoke from the stage, which soon gives way to murmurs and incantations, then demonic warbling, as the crowd rises to their feet, when…

 

"ATTACK!"

 

Devin Townsend's 'Ziltoidia Attaxx!!!' kicks off, the thick, heavy tune accompanied by flashing strobes and spotlights which roam the arena. The SmarkTron lights up with images of Michael Alexander's interlaced double-helix video clips of viciousness and interspersed with shots of MANSON and Michael Alexander doing horrible things to various hapless opponents.

 

"People of Earth… we are your Ziltoidian overlords…

 

…resistance… is futile…"

 

The crowd boos as the two enter the arena, with Michael Alexander taking the lead and MANSON following, with James Matheson trailing behind. While Alexander berates those ringside, MANSON follows along silently, his eyes darting around the arena. They slide into the ring, and while Alexander immediately moves on to their corner, the Messiah draws the metal bat from beneath his cloak. He begins to lumber about the ring, swinging wildly at anyone who comes near, as Matheson attempts to calm him down, while a bemused and bewildered Alexander looks on with a smirk across his face. Finally, Manson crawls back into his corner, where he hands the bat off to Matheson, disrobes and drops everything to the floor, then stands, as Alexander attempts to talk strategy and ready themselves for the match.

 

Funyon, who has now safely exited the ring, continues his announcing from a safer location. “And their opponents, from Philadelphia, PA, at a combined weight of 478 lbs...the SWF WORLD TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS...LUKE AND LEO...THEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE BRESLIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINS!”

 

“Knights of Cydonia” by Muse hits, and the Breslins wait for the quiet neighing of the horses to end and the opening guitar to begin before emerging onto the stage. Multi-colored bright strobes zip around the arena. Cheers are heavy as the two begin their descent down the ramp as the song picks up energy. They each take a side of the ramp and recognize the fans, also circling the ring and doing the same before meeting on the opposite side of the ring and climbing inside however you see fit (Leo a little quicker, perhaps). They pose together on turnbuckles, their bodies drowned in ever-changing color as they soak in the fans’ cheers. Michael and Manson look on, with Michael smirking, while Manson seems to be trying visually bore a hole through each of the Breslins.

 

Luke and Leo don't even speak to each other as the move to their corner. They simply lock eyes and nod, with Leo looking to start things off. Manson silently glares at the champions, but at Alexander's suggestion (and a little coaxing from Matheson), he steps out of the ring, leaving Michael to start things off. Alexander and Leo meet in a face-to-face in the middle of the ring, with Referee Kivell asking each if they're ready. Leo nods to Kivell, and Alexander just smirks at him, which Kivell takes as assent, and he calls for the bell.

 

DING! DING!

 

The two men circle each other for a brief moment before colliding in a classic collar-and-elbow. Alexander takes command quickly with a side headlock. Leo wraps him in a side waistlock, going for a quick side suplex. Michael counters by hooking his leg around Breslin's, then shifts his weight forward precipitously, using that leg-hook to topple Leo with a drop toehold! Alexander rolls over a surprised Leo to clamp on a grounding side headlock. Michael then wrenches the headlock with a smirk to the crowd, which expresses its disdain.

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“Leave it to these idiots here in TEN-es-SEE to boo an exhibition of sheer technical perfection like what we're seeing from Michael,” King laments, doing his best Kaufman impression.

 

“It's not the wrestling they're disgusted with, King, it's more the personality of the man doing it,” Mak chides.

 

“Bah! Do you boo the Mona Lisa if you don't like Da Vinci's personality?” King brushes Mak's argument and the crowd away with a wave of his hand.

 

Leo starts to try to power his way up to his feet. He almost makes it, but at the moment when Breslin could have tried a little something, Michael uses his hip and the headlock to whip Leo back to the mat and onto his back. The Ref drops to count, but Leo's shoulder is already up before his hand begins to fall. Michael sneers at the crowd and slaps the top of Leo's head disdainfully. Leo responds by cradling Alexander's near leg and rolling him over for a pin!

 

ONE!

 

NO!

 

“Near fall! The first of the match goes to the Breslins! Leo's showing he's no slouch in the wrestling department either, King!”

 

King snorts. “If it only takes a one count to get you that excited, Francis, you must be a very cheap date.”

 

“Hey...”

 

Michael snarls as he releases the headlock and tears away from Breslin. Leo surges to his feet, incensed, and charges at Alexander. Michael, nonplussed, drops to deliver a vicious dropkick to Leo's right knee in the midst of the angry charge! Breslin tumbles to the mat with a grunt of pain. Michael gets to his feet and grabs the downed Breslin's right leg, delivering a vicious kick to said leg. Leo growls in pain as Alexander twists to throw his own leg over Leo's and drops to the mat with a side legbreaker! Michael grins wickedly as he holds on to Breslin's ankle and wrenches Leo's leg, using his own leg as a fulcrum!

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“Hahahahahahaha! A Michael Alexander special! Welcome to the big leagues, boys!” King laughs.

 

“Leo had better figure a way out of that situation quickly. Any amount of time Alexander gets to spend on one of his 'experiments' means a greater handicap for Leo later.” Mak advises.

 

“LE-O! LE-O!”

 

Spurred by the crowd and the pain of the move, Leo uses his other leg to deliver a sharp kick to the side of the seat of Michael's inflated ego. Alexander's head wobbles from the kick, and his grip on the hold loosens for a moment...which is all Leo needs. With a surge of speed, Leo rolls over, scissoring Michael's body with his legs, and then rolls back over, forcing Michael's shoulders to the mat!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

NO!

 

“A two-count! Leo almost snuck away with a duke on a former World Heavyweight Champion!” Mak yelps.

 

King squeaks with relief. “Leo just got lucky, there, Francis. And Michael will make him pay for it!”

 

Alexander wrenches himself free of the body scissors and rolls back to his feet, fury and embarrassment etched across his face. Leo is back up quickly as well, adrenaline overriding his slightly injured leg. This time it's an enraged Alexander that charges in heedlessly. Leo drives a quick knee into Michael's gut, then follows up with a snapmare! Breslin smiles a little himself as he hops to crack the back of Alexander's head with a dropkick!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

 

“That's an Excedrin™ headache for Michael Alexander! Hope he brought it with him tonight!” Mak says, always subtle with the product placement.

 

“Are we really such whores now?” King asks rhetorically. “But he'll need to wash it down with a LASER-AID sports drink!” He groans.

 

Michael rolls away toward a corner, clutching his head. Leo scrambles back up, shakes his right leg a little tenderly, then follows Alexander into the corner. Breslin fires off a series of right hands to Michael as the Evil Genius tries to cover. Leo finally grabs Michael's head, pulling him into a front Muay Thai clutch, and drives a couple of knees into Alexander's head and upper body. Michael's legs go wobbly, and Leo then whips him into the corner. Giving the high sign to the crowd (and eliciting a roar in response), Leo then charges at Alexander and leaps...which proves to be a bad idea, as Michael ducks out of the corner and Breslin slams himself chest-first into the turnbuckle! Leo staggers back out of the turnbuckle, gasping from the impact. Michael, meanwhile, has charged into the ropes and springs at Leo from behind, delivering a high-impact chopblock that sends Breslin crashing to the mat. Luke winces from ringside and begins calling encouragement to his brother, who writhes in pain from the chopblock.

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“Breslin looked like he was getting some momentum going, but he telegraphed that Corner Splash too much,” Mak admonishes.

 

“He's got to learn that you can't play to the crowd like that when you've got opponents the caliber of Slaughterhouse/Five, Francis. You stay on your opponent, or you end up in traction. Like Leo there,” King cackles.

 

Waving sarcastically to Luke, Alexander grabs Leo's right leg and drags him over to the Slaughterhouse corner, where Manson has been brooding. Michael tags in the Murderous Fist and stretches Leo's right leg out as Manson leaps to drive a vicious knee drop into the leg. Leo howls in fury and pain. And Manson smiles. The Messiah does not continue to focus on the leg however. His attentions are far more diverse. He lifts a groaning Leo into a seated position, holding Breslin's head as he drives kick after kick into the seated man's lower back. He finishes this crushing combo off by driving an elbow into the top of Leo's head!

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“MANSON is come!” King squirms in delight. “And His Will is being done upon Leo Breslin!”

 

“Leo can't take this kind of punishment for long,” Mak warns. “He's got to make the tag to his brother, but that's easier said than done against a force of nature like Manson.”

 

Leo rolls away and begins to crawl towards his corner, probably on instinct alone. Luke yells encouragement and stretches his hand out. Manson watches this, twisting his head like a vulture watching a dying rabbit. The Demon then charges into the ropes and comes back to slam into Leo's ribs with a low dropkick! Leo is rolled across the ring by the force of the impact. Manson gets back to his feet with an unholy mien. Luke shouts at the Demon, hoping to distract him and give Leo a chance to recover. Manson looks as though he's turning to ignore Luke, but then he spins and charges like a raging bull, cracking Luke squarely in the jaw with his elbow. The bigger Breslin drops down onto the apron, and Manson turns back to Leo.

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“MANSON just dispensed a little of His Will upon Luke too!” King laughs, but reverently. “What were you saying about the Breslins being the superior team, Francis?”

 

“The match isn't over yet, King. And Luke did part of what he wanted, at least. He did distract Manson from immediately following up on poor Leo. But was that distraction enough?”

 

The God Machine hauls Leo back to his feet, slamming a knee into Breslin's gut. Manson tosses Leo into the ropes, and spins around, whipping his fist out for the God Hand...but Breslin ducks, continue his charge! The Messiah turns angrily, only to eat a brutal bicycle kick from Leo as the older Breslin rebounds! Both men collapse to the mat, and Leo begins to make an agonizing crawl towards his corner...

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

 

“LE-O! LE-O! LE-O!”

 

“Leo with a bicycle kick!” Mak yells happily. “The tide is turning, King!”

 

King gulps audibly, but his voice is still steady. “Breslin will pay for that sacrilege, Francis! And there's no turning of anything unless Leo can make that tag.”

 

As the stands rumble with the audience's stomps, Manson's unspeakable vitality asserts itself. He manages to grab Leo's leg with a snarl. The Steel God tries to stop the impending brotherly contact, but it seems that Leo's progress is inexorable as he hops on one leg toward his corner. Leo's hand is only inches away from his brother's outstretched fingers. At this point, Matheson hops up on the apron and begins rattling his briefcase and yelling at the referee.

 

“Oh, come on!” Mak groans. “What is Matheson doing up there? Get him off that apron!”

 

The Referee is distracted for the merest of moments, but it is enough. During that moment, Leo uses Manson's grip on his leg as a point of balance to deliver an enzuigiri that echoes throughout the arena, and in the same motion his flailing hand claps that of Luke, who comes surging in!

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

 

“LUKE! LUKE! LUKE!”

 

“The tag is made!” Mak howls in delight. “Luke is in, and he's on fire!”

 

“I don't think Kivell saw that tag, Francis,” King whispers slyly.

 

The powerhouse of the Breslin family surges across the ring and smashes Alexander from the apron with a roundhouse right hand, then turns his attention to Manson, who is only beginning to recover from the enzuigiri. Luke unleashes his pent-up aggression with a nasty series of rights and lefts to the God Machine, as his brother still lies on the apron, attempting to recover. At this point, Referee Kivell pulls him away, ordering him back to the corner. Luke protests, clapping his hands to visually explain the tag that was made, but Kivell astutely counters by pointing to his eyes and then back to the Breslins' corner. Kivell has to almost push Luke out of the ring.

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“What?!” Mak gawks. “Oh, that is ridiculous! The tag was made! We all saw it!”

 

“Kivell didn't see it, Francis. You know the rules; if the referee doesn't see it, it didn't happen.”

 

Mak fumes. “The only reason he didn't is Matheson's little tantrum on the apron! The ref should have banned him from ringside!”

 

“MANSON works in mysterious ways, Francis,” King pronounces.

 

“Mysterious?!? We all saw exactly what happened! That's not mysterious, it's blatant illegal interference!”

 

“Obviously not, Francis! Matheson never touched either of the Breslins!” King gasps in mock outrage. Mak just groans.

 

The Messiah, meanwhile, grabs Leo's leg and drags him back to the stomping grounds of Slaughterhouse/Five. And stomp Manson does, in a raging fury. Only a word from Matheson interrupts his wrath, and Manson nods to his manager coldly, and drops to his knees, looks up at the sky with his arms spread wide, and begins a strange chant. Suddenly, a mysterious energy SWF crowds know all too well begins to fill the air. The fans begin to file out, attempting to get away, as lights burst and dark clouds swirl over the ring, intermittent bursts of lightning signaling what’s to come.

 

“Oh GOD!” shouts Mak. “Can it be?!”

 

“It is, Mak! It’s the return of MANSONOSITY!”

 

Those unlucky enough to flee collapse to the ground, shaking and convulsing, the madness too much for them to bear. The Breslins, as the closest enemies to Manson, enter into a frothing, screaming fit, blood emerging from their ears, eyes, and mouths, as they, too, attempt to crawl away, but it’s too late, AS THEIR HEADS SUDDENLY BURST! BRAINS EVERYWHERE! DAMN! THEIR HEADS! CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT SHIT! FUCK!

 

“MANSONOSITY AND SLAUGHTERHOUSE/FIVE HAS RETURNED IN FULL FORCE, KING! NO MERCY!”

 

“WHY ARE YOU SHOUTING?!”

 

The energy dissipates, and entering the ring to glance over the carnage, Michael Alexander shrugs his shoulders, and looks to Matt Kivell. Left with no choice in the matter, as Manson, Alexander, and Matheson glare at him, Matt Kivell calls the match.

 

DING! DING!

 

“Your winners, as a result of being no longer able to continue… SLAUGHTERHOUSE/FIVE… FATALITY!”

 

“It’s as I said, Mak! It’s really no surprise. With Michael Alexander’s own formidible skills and Manson’s Will, and now James Matheson’s tactical mind, Slaughterhouse/Five cannot be stopped!”

 

“I believe it was Matheson calling for it there, but few have succeeded at controlling him, so it may have happened eventually. I just hope James knows what he’s getting into.”

 

“But we’re forgetting the most important part… a win over the current SWF Tag Team Champions! I see big things for Slaughterhouse in 2009!”

[King Cucaracha 0]

"Ladies and gentlemen, it is now time for our main event of the evening." says Funyon. "A singles bout set for ONE fall, to be contested under Wrestling Clinic Rules! And, it will be for the SWF WORLD Heavyweight Championship!!"

 

The crowd slowly erupts into a cheer and crescendoes up to an apex at the announcement of the main event.

 

"Now in this match," resumes the announcer. "there are no disqualifications, and no count-outs. There are only TWO ways for this match to end. While Tod James Stuart can only win by pinfall, the champion Va'aiga can only win by verbal submission or tap-out. Whoever meets his respective condition will be declared the winner AND champion!"

 

The announcer pauses briefly, which will allow for The Beatles' Helter Skelter to begin playing throughout the FedEx Forum. Paul McCartney's brief singing intro is accompanied by a set of spotlights that dance over blue-hued lights that cover the stage and ramp. Just as the twangy guitar licks take over the song, out walks the man dressed in his familiar blue and white tights and his trusty Putting On A Wrestling Clinic t-shirt. The crowd's respectful cheers increases in decibels at the sight of the man on a quest for redemption, and he can't help but stop at the stage to take it all in. With a proud nod, he resumes his power-walk down the ramp, all while pointing the pro-Clinic signs his eyes fall upon. For the first time in a while, he intercepts the cameraman so that he can share a pearl of wisdom for the viewers at home.

 

"I said I'd make it. And I did! Win or lose, I don't change a thing. I love you, girls."

 

He resumes his course towards the ring steps and climbs to the apron with five quick hops. After his customary wiping of his feet on the apron, he enters the ring with a quick dash between the second and third ropes. Following a brief warm-up jog, he hops onto the nearest second turnbuckle where he acknowledges three huge signs spelling out his initials. He rewards these particular fans' hard work by removing his t-shirt and tossing it towards the threesome, just as his music fades to a stop.

 

After a few seconds of silence, the arena lights slow into a dim while the stage fills with smoke. The many spotlights soon converge onto the stage while we hear the shouts of the man known as Savage, setting up the opening verse of the anthem known as Not Many. Staying faithful to his audio cue, the World Heavyweight Champion steps out from behind the curtains and marches down the ramp, a man leading a vicious army of one. Throwing a set of quick jabs to psych himself up, the champ throws back the hood from his ornate red and black robe and now stops by the cameraman's all-seeing eye.

 

"Hope ya made peace wit your family, boy! 'Cuz I will not be held accountable for your physical state when we get this done! Now throw it up, and say BOO-YAH!"

 

Stomping up the ring steps, the champion enters the ring and takes a second to exchange gazes with his challenger. All the while, he removes his robe and tosses it to a ringside attendant, also unsnapping his championship belt. He heads to the nearest turnbuckle and climbs it; holding up the title in one hand, throwing the shaka symbol with the other, and unleashes his mighty battle cry to whoever's got his back in yet another battle to come. Referee Matthew Kivell proceeds with a quick frisk of both competitors while Funyon takes center ring once again.

 

"Introducing first," begins Funyon. "From Toronto, Ontario, Canada. Weighing in at 237 lbs. By virtue of his recent victory over TKO and his claiming of the Cold Front Classic tournament; he holds the sole distinction of being the number one contender for BOTH the SWF Tag Team and World Heavyweight Championships. Tonight, he challenges for this company's richest prize. Ladies and gentlemen: Toooooood - Jaaaaaaaames - Stuaaaaaaart!!"

 

At the sound of his name, Stuart takes two steps forward, his eyes never leaving his colossal opponent. With a basic but proud raise of the fist, he takes in all the cheers this Memphis crowd has to offer him.

 

"And his opponent: now fighting out of Sunnyvale, California. Weighing in at a massive 350 lbs. In the past 12 months, he has enjoyed a successful tag team championship reign as a member of the Violence Distribution Network. This Maori Badass is now one of the most dominating champions witnessed in the last decade. Ladies and gentlemen, he is the CURRENT SWF WORLD Heavyweight Champion: Vaaaaaaa'aigaaaaa - Tuuuuiiipolotuuuuuuuu!!" bellows Funyon with perfect Maori pronunciation.

 

The champion steps forward, cradling his title belt on his left shoulder and throwing up the shaka sign with his right hand. His eyes drilled onto his latest challenger, he unleashes a mighty "BOO-YAH!!" that the crowd happily echoes.

 

"BOO-YAH!"

"Booyah!!"

"BOO-YAH!"

"Booyah!!"

"BOO-YAH!"

"Booyah!!"

 

Stuart is unflinching as Matt Kivell takes possession of the title belt so he can rise it up to the skies, signifying its status of being on the line. The Canadian's glance shifts ever-so subtly towards the belt, but then quickly back to his opponent. Once the belt is in Funyon's possession and at the announcer's table, the referee beckons both men to center ring. The ringside cameraman zooms in on the final instructions.

 

"All right, gentlemen." says Kivell. "In case you haven't heard Funyon; Stuart, you can only win by pinning Va'aiga's shoulders for a three-count. Champ, you have to make him tap out or submit. Anything else goes. Now, I'm only here to call a winner. But these people want a fair fight. Now I want you back to your corners and await my signal. Best of luck to you both."

 

Before the wrestlers proceed, Stuart holds up a single fist in front of him. Immediately recognizing the gesture, Va'aiga respectfully bumps knuckles with his opponent. Both men are now back to opposite corners.

 

"Ring the bell!!"

 

Va'aiga wastes no time with trivial things like feeling-out processes or collar-and-elbow tieups, he charges straight ahead at the Canadian... who sidesteps him and sends him crashing into a corner! Stuart quickly replies with a series of mudhole stomps to the midsection. He then switches to a series of back elbow thrusts to the chest and neck area, all of which seems effective in stunning the champion. But it's when Stuart switches to his trusty forearm shots that things take a turn. Va'aiga simply absorbs those and stares a hole into his challenger. Stuart backs away for all of two steps, before resuming his forearm barrage. Va'aiga absorbs those once again, wraps his arms around Stuart's body and takes him down with a belly-to-belly suplex! Stuart winces from the move, but is back on his feet within a few seconds. Putting his hands forward, this time he clamors for a proper lock-up. Va'aiga effectively takes the bait and steps forward to tie up. But it's to Stuart's advantage, as he snatches Va'aiga's arm away in an arm-twist. He quickly tries to hyper-extend the champ's preferred limb with a series of powerful yanks. He adds to that outburst with a series of shin kicks to the chest that almost double over the champ. Va'aiga tries to yank his arm free, but the combination of the kicks and the wrenching are enough to immobilize him. His opening comes in the form of Stuart placing his boot on the side of his head, setting up his opponent for the Slapshot. Using his free right hand, he offers Stuart's foot a mighty shoves that leaves the Canadian toppled over ass over head. Stuart immediately recovers and pounces back with low roundhouse kicks to the arm, side and leg of Va'aiga. This seems effective in chopping down the big man, seeing as he staggers to one knee. Stuart remains on target as he switches to a rarely-used right hand, punching away at the big man's head. Once again, Va'aiga absorbs the blows. And once again using a one-second window, the champion shoves his challenger away.

 

"Tod Stuart often targets the head of his opponents, and you can't help but admire his tenacity." notes Mak.

 

"Yes, but is it wise strategy against a man with the proverbial bowling ball of a head?" replies King.

 

Not to be deterred, Stuart is right back on the champ's head, this time with his trusty elbow strikes. But alas, he can only fire off three blows before Va'aiga shoves him off again. Stuart dashes back for a third time, but to his surprise, Va'aiga pops to his feet and catches him in a bearhug!

 

"And this could do it right here!" says Mak. "A man with the strength of Va'aiga and this basic bearhug could be enough to squeeze a submission out of Stuart!"

 

Fighting off the sudden pressure to his ribs, Stuart tries to contort out of the hold but he gets met with a harder squeeze each time. He tries plastering Va'aiga's face with repeated punches, to no avail. He tries several forearm shots. No luck. He then tries several downwards elbow thrusts on the forehead. No help. He then resorts to a tactic he's not too proud of using, but such times calls for such measures. He rears back, and BITES Va'aiga on the forehead! This definitely has an effect, but the champion is steadfast in applying the hold. When that doesn't work, Stuart goes to one more cheating tactic by burying his fingers in the champ's face and gouging his eyes! This works. Stuart's free. He staggers backwards and catches his breath on the ropes, but soon charges at the champion. We never find out his intentions as Va'aiga ducks an errant blow and takes down Stuart with a release German suplex! The Canadian rolls to the safety of the ring apron, but Va'aiga quickly meets him there. His large hand reaches over the top rope to pick up his opponent, but the champ gets met with a sudden series of shoulderblocks to the midsection. With Va'aiga doubled over again, Stuart launches himself with the top rope into a Sunset flip attempt! He sails over with ease, but the champ is reluctant to fall into a pincover. Va'aiga soon recovers his balance, and spots the cause of his attempted fall. His eyes locked on his opponent, both hands go to his throat. In an instant, Stuart is pulled to his feet and he has to stare in the eyes of the determined champion. One instant later, Va'aiga has him by the arm and tossed into an Irish whip. Bouncing back, Stuart is helpless as Va'aiga tosses him high overhead with a huge flapjack!

 

Stuart reels from the blow, slowly getting up. Meanwhile, Va'aiga waits... and waits. Once Stuart is fully up, he tastes the canvas once more as the champ plows into him with a tackle! Mounting his challenger, Va'aiga unloads with alternating left and right forearms that further rock Stuart. After forearm #6, Va'aiga dismounts and adds to the assault with a series of well-placed stomps to the head and shoulder.

"BOO-YAH!" shouts the champ, wielding his symbol.

 

He takes a brisk walk into the ropes, and upon bouncing back he lets himself fall with all of his weight into a headbutt drop to the chest! The thought of covering him instinctively crosses his mind, but he quickly reminds himself that it won't work. Instead, he has Stuart up on his feet and backed into a corner. Peeling him off with another Irish whip, Stuart is thrown by force into the opposite corner. Va'aiga charges full steam ahead, but Stuart quickly lifts up both feet to counter! Va'aiga is stunned, but he charges forward once more... and meets the boots again! Despite the two strong blows, Va'aiga still has presence of mind to lunge forward with an elbow strike, but Stuart ducks it and catches him in the uranage. Pushing forward, he smacks the champ's skull with an STO into his knee and strains him back up. Rather than complete the move into a regular STO, Stuart actually throws himself backwards with a Complete Shot into the second turnbuckle! With the champ prone, Stuart frees himself and takes a few feet long running start... and drives both knees into Va'aiga's back! Sensing that this has an effect, Stuart backs up a second time... and repeats the maneuver, with both knees to the shoulderblades! Stuart shoves his opponent to the mat and lands on top for his first pincover.

 

"ONE!"

 

 

"TWO!"

 

The champ proves clever in taking the full count before powering out of the lateral press. Stuart looks to capitalize as he traps Va'aiga in a front facelock and tosses his arm up over his head, hoping for a suplex. Clutching onto Va'aiga's tights, Stuart strains and lifts... and with a loud grunt of exertion finally takes over the champ with a vertical suplex. He holds onto the move, spins his hips around, and looks to get both of them back up.

 

"Stuart now going for that triple suplex variation he likes to use." says Mak. "But can he get the whole thing done on the champ?"

 

"I doubt it, because Stuart rarely has had to lift up a man the size of Va'aiga." counters King. "And look, he's already having difficulty."

 

Stuart indeed has both men back up, but finds the Maori Badass impeding on his attempts to proceed. Neutralizing the Canadian with a quick punch to the gut, Va'aiga reverses the tide as he lifts up Stuart in the vertical suplex, and maintains him there... and maintains him there...

 

"Impressive strength by the champ!" notes Mak.

 

"But Stuart's got it reversed!"

 

Kicking his legs to throw off Va'aiga's balance, Stuart manages to land behind his opponent... and surprises him with a schoolboy rollup!

 

"ONE!"

 

 

"TWO!"

 

Following the kick-out, Va'aiga quickly recovers and stuns Stuart with a quick kneelift to the gut. With renewed determination, Va'aiga thrusts his opponent into a standing headscissor and wastes no time dropping him with a powerbomb! He resists the urge again to cover him, and opts to pick him up... so that he can bend him over again and give him a SECOND powerbomb!!

 

"There's the first sign, Stumpy!" notes King. "Usually Vags is consistent in his offense, tossing in there a pincover or two. But now that he can't win by pinfall, it's starting to throw him off!"

 

Va'aiga looks at the unmoving form of his opponent, and then towards ringside. Then back to Stuart. And ringside once more. Under an approving cheer from the crowd, Va'aiga heads out to ringside, more precisely Funyon's table. The announcer and his timekeeper colleague scamper out of the way while Va'aiga retrieves a steel chair, which he tosses in the ring. He grabs a second one, that he snaps shut and gets set to toss this one in as well... except he changes his mind, opens it up and places it on the mat, next to the ring apron.

 

"We all know Va'aiga can get creative with a steel chair." says Mak. "And you can't help but think he won't have many noble intentions for that one."

 

He slides back inside the ring, where a recovering Tod Stuart suddenly gets met with a Dan Carter Kick to the ribs! This leaves the Canadian on his stomach, while Va'aiga picks up the chair. Adjusting his grip, he applies the backrest portion on the small of Stuart's back... and tries to force it in! This immediately rips some agonizing groans from the Canadian, who's quick to turn down Kivell's offers of a submission.

 

"There's ONE way!" notes a surprised King. "He's trying to guillotine that chair into his back!"

 

After a good 30 seconds of enduring the intense pressure in his lower back, Stuart quickly finds his lights dimmed by a heavy forearm to the back of the head. Va'aiga must've been tired of hearing him scream. With chair in hand again, Va'aiga opens it up and begins forcing it around Stuart's neck, turning it into the World's Worst Cervical Collar. The crowd begins to buzz in anticipation, and become a little louder once their champion has Stuart into a gutwrench.

 

"Is he gonna POWERBOMB him with that chair around his head?!" asks an incredulous Mak.

 

Va'aiga lifts up Stuart on his shoulder as the pro-Maori crowd erupts... but the pro-Canadian crowd breathes a sigh of relief once their representative kicks his legs free again and falls to the safety of the mat. But this time, Stuart has to contend with this contraption around his head; which leaves Va'aiga plenty of time to shove the chair-head hybrid into the nearest top turnbuckle, resulting in a huge impact on Stuart's head and neck! Now with the pace firmly in hand, the champ can now afford to be a little more methodical in his challenger's defeat. He picks him up by the hair, drags him to the other side of the ropes on the apron, and scoops him up for a body slam.

 

"We were wondering, Stumpy." says King. "There's a method to every madness, and now we get to find out what that outside chair is for."

 

The pro-champ crowd buzzes again when the realize that Va'aiga intends to slam Stuart to the outside on an OPEN CHAIR. But Stuart has one of those perfectly-timed moments of lucidity as he notices his impending doom and slips from his opponent's grip! Landing back in the ring, Stuart counters any further offense with by slingshotting the champ's throat on the top rope! Va'aiga, slumped over the ropes, is in perfect position for Stuart to suddenly dash into the ropes and SAIL over the Maori with a Sunset Powerbomb attempt! The crowd erupts when they see it's gonna happen on the chair! Rather than give him the chance to hold the ropes to block, or counter with a heavy kick; Stuart quickly switches tactics by yanking the champ's ankle out from under him... causing him to crash BACK FIRST INTO THE OPEN CHAIR!

 

"HO-LY-SHIT! HO-LY-SHIT! HO-LY-SHIT...!" exclaims a satisfied Memphis crowd.

 

Were this a videogame, Stuart has just shaved off a large portion of the champ's lifebar. The chair is dented beyond recognition. The champ is on the floor in a silent, agonized trance. Thankful that countouts are not in effect, Stuart has the arduous task of picking up the 350-lbs champion and muscling him back into the ring.

 

"Mak, do we even KNOW if Va'aiga was fully recovered from that bar fight against Breslin?!" asks King. "Because he's just taken a hell of a fall, and I don't know if even he'd get up from that!"

 

One minute, twenty-three seconds later, Va'aiga is back in the ring, having been rolled in by the challenger. He hooks the leg.

 

"ONE!"

 

 

"TWO!"

 

 

"TH--"

 

"Two!!" shouts Kivell.

 

"Well, there goes Stewie's title aspirations." says King. "Because if THAT can't keep Va'aiga down, nothing will!"

 

With one look at Va'aiga's outstretched fist, Stuart realizes just what he might've done. If only for a second, one could detect a look of uncertainty in his eyes. But this quickly fades in favor of determination. He ignores the fact that he probably woke the proverbial sleeping giant, and goes to bring the champ up to his feet. But you don't tug a bull by the horns. In the split-second that Stuart has his hands on the scruff of Va'aiga's neck, the champion has a sudden boost of energy and breaks free from Stuart's grasp. He peppers him with a quick but strong left jab ("One!"). And then another ("Two!"). And a third ("Three!"). He winds up ("Ooooooahhh..."), kisses the fist... but Stuart ducks the right hook! He replies with his own less-popular-but-still-effective strikes, them being elbow shots. They seem to have an effect, but Va'aiga ducks under a fifth shot and locks in a quick rear hammerlock. And just as easily as last time, he lifts the Canadian and drives him down with a German suplex! But this time, he holds onto it and rolls aside. The dazed Stuart is helpless as Va'aiga switches his grip to a full nelson, immediately taking him down with a dragon suplex! Despite taking the full brunt of his weight on his neck, Stuart is still helplessly being brought to his feet. Va'aiga now releases one half of his nelson, only to corral Stuart's own arm against his throat, and then complete the series with a Swiss suplex of head-droppy goodness! This time the instinct to cover doesn't even cross Va'aiga's mind as he applies a neck vice! With Stuart's head at an odd angle, Matt Kivell is quick with the interrogations.

 

"Whaddya say, Stuart!!"

"Nooooo!"

 

When that doesn't work, Va'aiga tosses Stuart's body to the mat and rolls him on his stomach. Jamming a knee between his shoulderblades, the champ forces his opponent's chin backwards and does the humane equivalent of attempting to rip off his head.

 

"Wanna give it up?!"

"Never!!"

 

Stuart's refusal is met with a series of heavy clubbing forearms blows to the upperback from the champ, followed once again by the knee/chinlock combination.

 

"Talk to me, Stuart!!" shouts Kivell, who's met this time with a mere shake of the head.

 

The champ doesn't prove to be a patient man as he releases his second submission hold in favor of bringing Stuart up to his feet and backing him into a corner. With a mighty yank, Stuart is Irish whipped into the opposite corner. Rather than charge full steam ahead, Va'aiga opts for a more deliberate march forward, hoping not to receive Stuart's boot in his face once more. Alas, this is exactly what happens to him when he reaches the Canadian. Stuart has a boost of his own as he braces himself against the ropes, and rests both feet on the Maori's shoulders. Using his right leg, he forcefully stamps Va'aiga's forehead with the sole of his boot several times, punctuated by an improvised facewash boot to the side of the face that succeed in staggering the champ. While Va'aiga walks off the sudden scrape from his cheek, Stuart hops up to the second turnbuckle. He welcomes back the champ with a front facelock, and leaps off with a tornado DDT... but hits nothing but mat when Va'aiga tosses him off! The following seconds are all a blur, as Stuart gets back up to further his offense... only to be met with the thundering WHACK of a steel chair! Va'aiga has found the errant chair and ruthlessly thrown it in Stuart's face.

 

"Chair-faced!" shouts King in full-on sarcastic glee.

 

"It's nothing like the one at ringside," notes Mak. "But this one is DENTED! It's got Stuart's face imprinted on it, to be precise!"

 

Va'aiga takes a second to clear his head, only to spot his opponent squirming on the mat. His assault has produced a most-desired result: a line of blood has begun to form on Stuart's forehead. Before Kivell can ask the important question, Va'aiga stops the official... and forces him into a corner!

 

"The hell are you doing?!" asks Kivell, surprised at being manhandled.

 

The intentions are made clear as Va'aiga...undoes Kivell's belt?! Yanking the leather strap free, Va'aiga palms the belt's buckle... looks intently at it... and forces it into Stuart's forehead!! Stuart screams accordingly to a metal object being driven into his skin, while Kivell (with now slightly looser pants) is back to his questionning.

 

"Whaddya say!!"

 

"GET IT OFF ME!!"

 

"Say the word and the pain stops!!"

 

Tod Stuart is physically and mentally incapable of submitting. And this is how he pays the price: an angry 350-lbs Maori champion attempting to mutilate his face.

 

"IT FUCKING HURTS!!"

 

"Can't do anything unless you give it up!"

 

"NO!!"

 

"Give up now and walk away with peace, son!!" this one comes from the champ.

 

"FUCK YOU!!"

 

That last outburst seems to work, as Va'aiga suddenly releases his 'hold'. After stunning the challenger with a buckle-assisted punch to the forehead, Va'aiga looks around him... and retreats to ringside. Rounding one side, he locates the destroyed chair his body went through earlier. He picks it up... and begins to smash it violently against the ring post! This smashes the chair into pieces just enough to allow Va'aiga to yank and wrench a small metal support rod free from the apparatus. He eyes his opponent menacingly... but then heads to the nearest corner. Rather than use the metal rod for assaulting his opponent, he uses it as a lever and begins undoing the metal turnbuckle strut!

 

"The hell's he doing?" asks King.

 

"Looks like the champ's into remodeling in his spare time." jokes Mak. "Whod've thunkit?"

 

"He's undoing the bottom rope!"

 

As the crowd encourages the creative use of the ring, Va'aiga finally has the lower rope free from the ringpost after a few twists. The result is one loose corner pad attached to a large metal bolt and a very long large rope that's free to be used as a weapon.

 

And use it as a weapon Va'aiga does.

 

Muscling up Stuart with his free left hand, Va'aiga has the loose turnbuckle pad in his right. He then finally gets to complete the BOO-YAH Combination with a jab ("One!"), another jab ("Two!"), a third ("Three!"), the big windup ("Oooooaaaaahhh...!"). And since kissing a turnbuckle pad that's been bled and sweated on for a number of years would be a trifle unsanitary, the champ simply opts to crack the heavy pad on Stuart's head! The challenger is knocked down. The champion drops his improvised weapon, and picks up a length of the loose rope. Listening to (and then ignoring) Matt Kivell's warning of taking it easy... Va'aiga wraps the rope around Stuart's forehead, eyes and face! Kivell can't help but give a point for originality, but points won't bring this one home...

 

"Whaddya say, Tod!!"

 

"*Mphmphhmrgggggggnnn!*"

 

"Tap out and the pain ends, Stuart!"

 

During his muffled groans of agony, Stuart's hand hovers ever briefly over the mat, drawing several fearful cries among the Fight Team fans. Those cries seem to be just enough in letting Stuart pull back his hand and attempt to combat the straining against his face being applied to him.

 

"You gotta hand it to Stuart!" says Mak. "After all the abuse he's taken from the champ, he still has it within himself NOT to give up! His mind's gotta be on his five students supporting him. Or his baby girl sitting on her mother's lap back home! I've seen pictures of little Sara and she's about the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen. And she'd love nothing more than to see her dad come back home as a champion!"

 

"And you're seeing just how out of his element Va'aiga really is!" points out King. "Normally, he pounds the crap out of you, tops it off with the Lariat and covers your ass 1-2-3. Keyword: 1-2-3. Whereas now, he has to get technical and try and get his opponent to submit. And we're seeing just how limited the champ is in that field."

 

Stuart's stubborn refusal to quit only serves further to anger the champ. Without bothering to uncoil the ropes from his head, Va'aiga forces the Canadian up to his feet and picks him up in a slam. A second later, Stuart gets planted to the mat with an unforgiving Maori Drop in center-ring! With a dangerous sneer painting his face, Va'aiga picks up the chair and offers Stuart's side several none-too-comfortable punts that serve in inching him closer to the corner. The champ then adds insult to injury by violently tossing the chair on top of Stuart! That's followed by a slow-and-steady climb of the remaining ropes.

 

"Stumpy, you down with P.O.P.?" asks King. "Yeah you know me! If all else fails, Vags is just gonna beat the crap out of Stuart till he can't take it anymore! That frog splash off the top is only gonna seal the deal!"

 

Before leaping off, Va'aiga can't help but offer a final shout-out to the masses that respect him. Dueling Shakas and a thunderous "BOO-YAH!" that the crowd happily echoes, the champ gets ready to fly...

 

...But a chair to the thigh ends that plan!!

 

The crowd suddenly starts buzzing when they see Stuart up on his feet and cleaning up the champ with the chair; hitting him in the legs, stomach, chest and one heavy shot to the back! The result is a severely weakened champion sitting on the top turnbuckle, hunched over, barely moving. Tossing the chair away, Stuart grabs the champ's head in a front facelock. With his remaining strength, he inches him slowly off the ropes so that nothing but his ankles support him... and then cracks the champ's head on the mat with a DDT!

 

"G-T-A!!"

"G-T-A!!"

"G-T-A!!"

 

He can't recall if he's ever heard it before, but this time he's actually paying attention. An entire crowd that's for the most part behind him. Chanting the three letters he holds most dear. His face overflowing with crimson, Stuart slowly regains his feet with an urging sense of finality. He sees Va'aiga in a position few get to see him in: writhing on the mat.

 

It's time.

 

The hands go up.

 

"What is he doing?!" shouts Mak. "Tod Stuart is signaling for the Silent Scream! He KNOWS this can't possibly end the match for him!"

 

"I think that last shot with the chair's finally undone a few brain cells." states King. "That, or Stewie's become increasingly desperate and he's realizing that he CAN'T pin the champ, that he's too STRONG! Face it, this little last-ditch comeback might be heart-warming for some, but the dream ends here tonight! By climbing the biggest mountain he's had to climb, he's bit off more than he can chew, and it's gonna haunt him. It is going to HAUNT him!"

 

Slowly, Va'aiga is taking a knee, regaining his scrambled thoughts. Behind him, five feet away is Tod Stuart who's just seen the narrowest of openings presenting itself. He steps forward, ready to lock in his deadly submission move...

 

But in an impressive display of instinct, the champ suddenly finds himself boosting up to his feet, spinning 180 and nailing Stuart with a MASSIVE LARIAT!!

 

"Good NIGHT!!" shouts King.

 

"Amazing recovery as Va'aiga finally lands The Lariat!!" shouts Mak in excitement, as the Instant Replay appears. "But you see he didn't get all that he wanted out of it. He couldn't achieve his usual running start. Nevertheless, the champ managed to throw a good portion of his weight into the move and the result is that Tod Stuart is OUT!!"

 

"But Kivell's waving it off!"

 

Both men had collapsed in such a manner that Va'aiga still had his arm laying on top of Stuart, the perfect pinning predicament. Despite the groans of the fans, Matt Kivell is powerless to proceed and can do nothing more but look on.

 

"Va'aiga's first instinct probably told him to turn around and blast the son of a bitch with the Lariat." notes King. "But his first instinct also probably told him to get on top and cover him!"

 

After what seems to be a long endless minute, Va'aiga finally peels himself off from his opponent. After laying on top of him for so long, he first wonders just why his hand isn't being raised, but reality soon comes back to his head as he remembers his submission stipulation. Just as he regains his feet, he notices Stuart beginning to squirm. While the Canadian isn't a threat just yet, Va'aiga uses the respite to walk over and pick up the semi-mangled chair that was left in the corner. He uses his fist to bang out the one large dent in the seat, and then proceeds to open it up. Wielding his prized weapon, he turns around to further deal with his opponent... but he gets met with a drop toehold! Even the man holding the top prize in a company can be prone to making ill-timed decisions. Such is the case when the chair's backrest suddenly gets driven into the champ's throat during his fall.

 

"Witness the resurgence from Tod Stuart!" shouts Mak at about the same time as the crowd erupts at the sight of the resilient Canadian. "We don't know what Va'aiga wanted to do with that chair, but it just got driven into his NECK!"

 

Spotting a few options ahead of him, Stuart goes for the first that comes to mind. He boots the chair out of the way... and picks up the loosened bottom rope, the very weapon that nearly mangled his face earlier. Acting quickly before the Maori can recover, Stuart goes into urgency overdrive. Despite Va'aiga thrashing around on the mat and trying to catch his breath, Stuart goes one step further by looping the rope AROUND VA'AIGA'S THROAT!! And before the champion can struggle his way out, Stuart goes for the move that's never failed him. Making sure the rope is secured against his neck, Stuart immediately transitions into the Silent Scream! He squeezes in the hold as if his life depended on it, while the pro-Stuart portion of Memphis are on their feet.

 

"I don't believe my eyes!!" screams Mak. "A rope-assisted Silent Scream! Payback for the champ!! Tod Stuart's given EVERYTHING in this match, and then some! Look at the intensity in his face! He's putting every last ounce of his will into that one last move!!"

 

"Are you both retarded?!" retorts King. "Both of you seem to forget one crucial point: HE - CAN'T - WIN THIS WAY!! He's gotten too caught up in his little 'Look at me! I'm good!" quest! This is all about pride!! He just wants to know if he can take down the World champion, and he's forgotten his own little rules in the process!!"

 

"It seems to be WORKING!" says an incredulous Mak. "Va'aiga is fading fast! His face is changing colors!"

 

"Wait, he's getting up!"

 

With both hands firmly planted on the mat; Va'aiga attempts to first get to his feet, fight off his opponent and mount a counterattack.

 

But this is Tod James Stuart's moment and he has different intentions.

 

Ignoring the blood flowing into his eyes, Stuart cranks up the hold to its final notch. Releasing a deep and intense primal scream, he wraps his legs around the champ and locks in the bodyscissors.

 

"Tod Stuart is a man possessed! His face is bleeding! He's screaming to the point of near-collapse! The story here is that Va'aiga has dished out the pain as only he can. But Stuart stood there, and TOOK IT! And look where we are now: The champ is DOWN and at the mercy of the challenger!!" states Mak.

 

"He's turning BLUE, that what he is!!" replies King. "Never mind that he's being choked out with the ropes!"

 

"It's anything goes, King!... And look!... His eyes are rolling up in the back of his head! Folks, Va'aiga IS NOT MOVING!!"

 

The initial surge of adrenalin seems to have passed. For now. Under the referee's urging (and out of concern for the champion's health), Stuart finally opts to release the hold. He rolls to his knees, while Kivell is quick to remove the rope from around Va'aiga's neck. Recovering, Stuart catches sight of the one thing he was looking for.

 

SWF World Champion Va'aiga, down on his back.

 

Out cold.

 

"GET OVER HEEERE!!" screams Stuart at Matthew Kivell, pointing at his opponent's shoulders.

 

The crowd, realizing what's about to happen, erupt in loud cheers. They explode even louder when Stuart lands on top of his opponent with a lateral press. Perfectly following the rules to the letter, Matthew Kivell is in position.

 

 

"ONE!"

 

 

 

 

"TWO!"

 

 

 

 

"THREE!"

 

The timekeeper can't ring the bell loud enough to drown out the sounds of 20,000 cheering Memphians. When his music starts playing, not even the sound of Funyon making it official can make him realize what has just happened.

 

"Here is your winner... AND NEEEEEW SWF World Heavyweight Champion... Toooooood - Jaaaaaaaames - Stuaaaaaaart!!"

 

Stuart backs off, in semi-shock, on his knees. He looks at Matthew Kivell almost as a sign of confirmation. At first, he doesn't believe him when he flashes three fingers in front of him. But he definitely believes him when the official presents him with the SWF World Heavyweight Championship belt, and raises his hand in triumph. It's when he gets to feel the gold and leather in his hands that it finally hits him:

 

He's become champion.

 

The goal finally having been attained, he can get up to his feet and look at his new prize with pride. With a triumphant pump of the fist, he looks at the crowd and offers them his first raise of the title belt. Bloody, beaten, tired, exhausted. But happy. His demeanor quickly switches to a smile once he spots a familiar face applauding his way down the ramp, his tag team partner Daniel Smith. In a rare display of emotion for the larger Canadian, he greets his partner and mentor with a hug. With one hand, Smith signals to the back for four more people to join them in the ring. At the same time, he points at the title belt along with the "Gimme it" motion. Stuart happily obliges, which in turn allows Smith to take the belt and strap it around the waist of his partner. At the same time, the overjoyed quartet of Wrestling Clinic students; Tara McGovney, Antonio Carson, Michael & Matthew Jones join the celebration.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen," begins Mak Francis. "Last year almost everybody, including Stuart himself, were just about ready to write him off as having an uneventful career. But last summer, he finally resolved to make something of himself and hoped to redeem himself in the eyes of the fans, his friends, his family and his peers alike. Tonight, on February 10th, 2009; I can happily tell you that this personal quest is at an end. Tonight, Tod James Stuart can now look forward to a new set of goals. Performing at the level we've just seen from him tonight. Taking on the mantle of being this company's top wrestler. To become the target of every hopeful in the SWF.

 

In short, to being champion.

 

Tonight, surrounded by his closest peers; Tod James Stuart has finally redeemed himself. For Suicide King. I'm Mak Francis. We'll see you next month. Good night."

 

With Helter Skelter playing loud, the final shot from tonight's show will be blue and white confetti raining from the skies, a cheering crowd, and the young Jones Brothers hoisting up their celebrating trainer on their shoulders. Leaving one final image.

 

Tod James Stuart: SWF World Heavyweight Champion.