SWF BATTLEGROUND!! 2004!!!

the.weej · April 26, 2004

“Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more,

Or close the wall up with our English dead!

In peace there's nothing so becomes a man

As modest stillness and humility;

But when the blast of war blows in our ears,

Then imitate the action of the tiger:

Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood.”

-- William Shakespeare

“Everyone has their reasons for fighting… everyone has their reason for going to war.”

I know the pieces fit

'Cause I watched them fall away

“Some have something to prove…”

(Images of “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins and Tryst flash across the screen, as Tool’s “Schism” rages on.)

Mildewed and smouldering

Fundamental differing

“To some, it’s a matter of pride…”

(Alan Clark and Coy West are shown.)

Pure intention juxtaposed

Will set two lovers' souls in motion

Disintegrating as it goes

Testing our communication

“Some have things that they need to defend…”

(Wild and Dangerous, Janus, and Toxxic are all in the viewer’s sight in short order.)

The light that feuled our fire then

Has a burned a hole between us so

We cannot see to reach an end

Crippling our communication

“Some have PEOPLE that they need to defend…”

(Annie Eclectic can be seen with an intense expression cemented onto her face.)

I know the pieces fit

'Cause I watched them tumble down

No fault, none to blame

It doesn't mean I don't desire to

“Some men fight because they were born to do it…”

(Nathan Kibigami.)

Point the finger, blame the other

Watch the temple topple over

To bring the pieces back together

Rediscover communication

“Some aren’t born to fight at all, but instead are driven to levels of near-insanity before they choose to.”

(Alexander Zenon.)

The poetry

That comes from the squaring off between

“But perhaps the most important fight to be fought…”

And the circling is worth it

Finding beauty in the dissonance

“Is for the biggest prize of them all.”

There was a time that the pieces fit

But I watched them fall away

Mildewed and smouldering

Strangled by our coveting

I've done the math enough to know

The dangers of our second guessing

Doomed to crumble unless we grow

And strengthen our communication

“Tonight… men fight… men go to war… for many different reasons…”

Cold silence has

A tendency to

Atrophy any

“But all of them…”

“…ALL of them…”

Sense of compassion

Between supposed brothers

Between supposed lovers

“Will fight until their very last breath.”

I know the pieces fit

I know the pieces fit

“AT BATTLEGROUND.”

**BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM**

The stage set is lit up by the blinding white lights of pyrotechnics as they BLAST us into tonight’s SWF PPV EXTRAVAGANZA – BATTLEGROUND!!

“And here we go!” says Comet!

And here we go.

Edited April 26, 2004 by realitycheck

the.weej · April 26, 2004

Card:

WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT TITLE BOUT

SINGLES MATCH

Charlie "Grappler" Matthews© vs "The Notorious" John Duran

What is there to say, really? A match made in the JL is one that's been built to for almost two months. As it was when he lead the Urban Decay, John Duran feels he's ready to take the belt he was groomed for from the undeserving, inappropriate champion. Though a serious competitor and a man who lives and breathes the business, Grappler is almost the very antithesis of John Duran. Tonight, once and for all, they're going to resolve the question of who's the better the man... and who's the one, true, deserving champion. Let's rock.

LADDER MATCH

Ann "Ichiban" Onita vs "The Superior One" Tom Flesher

Blood is thicker than water. Time heals all things, except time itself. Two cliches define this match, with two very real meanings. The history between Ann Onita and Tom Flesher is deep and documented--they've faced dozens of times, as allies, as enemies... but all those times, Flesher was in command, and control. Ann was striving valiantly to knock Tom off his perch and speed or realize her climb to the top of the mountain. This time... things are different. And this time, perhaps the most precious prize of all hangs in the balance: Ann's own sister, Allison. To quote another cliche... it's all or nothing, this time.

LAST MAN STANDING MATCH

Nathaniel Kibagami vs Alex Zenon

Hate.

It's a strong word. It's one of the core human emotions. But very few times has it been so real. Alexander Zenon hates Nathaniel Kibagami every fiber of his being, and he blames him for everything that's gone so wrong in his life since he first left the SWF in mid-2002. It is hard to ignore such passion, doubly so when Alex has the power of the commissioner's office. The irony, perhaps, are the parralel lines. Alex's bitter, vicious hate... is the one so similar to that which tore apart Kibagami as he hunted down Edwin MacPhisto. Alex may or may not realize this, but he probably doesn't care. All that matters is that Kibagami may be gone by the end of this. Come hell or high water, and if it takes down Alex, too.

ICTV/TAG TEAM/HARDCORE TITLE BOUT

TRIPLE QUADRUPLE MATCH

Wild & Dangerous© vs The In Crowd vs Aecas and Janus© vs Toxxic© and Liston

You know what? Forget the dramatic prose for a minute. There's SO much shit between these eight guys going on here, I can't even begin to explain it all for you. I mean, I probably could, but it'd take about two pages. So I'm just going to say this match is the result of about a million different possible permutations and three titles that I couldn't book properly without double booking about four different people, so you get this menagre. Look at it this way: Though it LOOKS impossible, if you do it well, you may very well have the match of the night.

USJL TITLE BOUT

SINGLES MATCH

Coy "Wild" West© vs Todd Royal

There's a lot of change in the air around Coy, and it's not just the fact he's decided to shower more frequently. He's more seriously, more focused, and more determined than ever. And for the last little while, his sights have been squared on Todd Royal, the man who believes he doesn't JUST have god on his side... he IS god. And with Coy recently recapturing the USJL title, can Royal achieve what he feels is divine right?

EMPTY ARENA MATCH

Landon "La Cucaracha" Maddix vs Alan Clark

Emptiness. It's a theme Alan Clark has felt the need to reiterate lately. Landon Maddix is... empty. Extinguished. A dead man walking. Clark is boisterous; a man who's fire burns and conviction stays strong. His fire is to defeat Landon Maddix, his conviction is that it has been a long time coming. Clark may not have his cruiserweight title to lay on the line here anymore, but he still has his pride, and his eternal drive to defeat Landon Maddix. And to La Cucaracha, this should be most concerning: After all, it has been a long time since he has been able to accomplish the same feat in reverse.

SINGLES MATCH

Edward James vs Crow

Eddie J has been a little... well, no, a LOT lost lately. The returning Antichrist Superstar hasn't looked so hot, either. They face on teh really big sheeeeeeeeeeew to try and turn things around.

SINGLES MATCH

"La Sensation Senegalaise" Said vs Tryst

FEINDS BEWARE! That is Tryst's rallying battle cry these days, and what better fiend to start off with than Said and his even more fiendish managers? Tryst has been in a bit of a cold snap lately (including an, um, interesting last match), and could nix that with a triumphant victory over fiendish villains at Battleground!

SINGLES MATCH

Stryke vs "Hollywood" Spike Jenkins

A random match? Balderdash! There is much storied history between these two, dating back to... and including... also... uh... um... er, look, I just forgot to book Stryke and I forgot that Spike PMed me, okay? These two only have a few certain habbits in common.

HARDCORE MATCH

Austin Sly vs Insane Luchadore

And we kick of Battleground the best way we know how: Screaming! Hey, why mess with a good thing? Relative newbie Austin Sly faces off against the wily veteran "Insane Luchadore" Andrew Rickmen in a good old fashioned passioned ass whuppin' hardcore match. What else is there to say, really?

the.weej · April 26, 2004

BOOOOM!

With a flash and magnitude of sound, an eruption of sparks begins at the entrance way trench. Several small showers of sparks follow letting the fans know that they have indeed arrived at a battleground.

The University Arena lights up with the opening pyro for SWF's Battleground! Every fan in the arena comes to their feet cheering! The sound is deafening as it manages to drown out Tool's "Schism".

"Welcome citizens to SWF Battleground live from the University Arena in Albuquerque, New Mexico!" Cyclone yells over the fans. "Cycloooooooooone Comet here as always with my broadcast partner Bobby Riley. We've got a packed night with ten matches ahead of us including a hardcore match, an empty arena match, a ladder match, a three fall tag team match with three titles on the line, and of course the Heavyweight Title match!"

"We're about to embark on an action packed few hours of SWF action. Our first match features the newcomer Austin Sly facing off against SWF's very own Insane Luchador in none other than a hardcore match."

The fans finally begin to calm down.

"While Sly has been on a roll since entering the federation just a few weeks back," Riley continues, "Rickmen seems to be his exact opposite dropping three of his last four matches. Rickmen might have an advantage coming into this match though as he's based his career around being a hardcore wrestler, and we've yet to see how Sly fairs in this environment."

"This is an interesting situation indeed, Bobbo," Comet replies, "but I think I'm going to have to pick Citizen Rickmen to come out on top tonight. You can't argue with experience and that's exactly what Citizen Rickmen has. Having been in this sort of environment before, I can tell you that you can't come into matches like this unprepared, and I'm afraid that's exactly what Citizen Sly is, unprepared. I'm standing by my masked brother the Insane Luchador."

"You seem to be forgetting that Austin isn't exactly a green rookie here. He's a 27 year old man after all," Riley argues back, "he's been in this business a long time and has probably been in his own fair share of hardcore encounters. I think I'm going to have to agree with you though and pick Rickman to come out on top tonight. He's due for another win sometime soon, and Sly is no Toxxic, that's for sure."

"Is Toxxic the measure for every new wrestler that comes through SWF's gates now? I agree with everyone, the man has talent, but is it fair to everyone to be held to such a high standard?" Cyclone tries to pick apart Riley's statement. "And the be fair to Citizen Sly, how can you tell he's no Toxxic? He's only had two matches so far in the SWF; he could still have some untapped potential."

"Who said wrestling was about being fair? This isn't children's soccer," Riley bickers back at Comet, "and not everyone can be a winner. The only way to get to the top in our business is to beat the best and be the best, and as far as the new breed of wrestlers that have joined the SWF within the last few months, Toxxic is the cream of the crop. I just don't see Austin beating Toxxic anytime soon... so I guess yes, I can tell he's no Toxxic. There's only room for one at the top you know."

"I think it's a little impossible to say Citizen Toxxic is better than Citizen Sly without the two ever actually having faced off in the squared circle. We do know that Citizen Rickmen has faced and been defeated by Citizen Toxxic before," Comet plays the historian, "so maybe if Citizen Sly comes out of here with a win tonight then his next most logical move will be to face off with Citizen Toxxic."

"Well I would say that a match between Toxxic and Sly isn't out of the picture, but I wouldn't say that it's in the near future. Give Sly a little time to work his way up to Toxxic maybe and the see how the two feel about it. Sly isn't even in the title picture yet and that's one thing Toxxic has proven that he can do," Riley replies, "compete and win the big matches with the gold on the line. Like I said though, let Sly work his way up to Toxxic, then we'll see what happens."

Funyon takes this time to make his way into the ring. To mark the special occasion that Battleground always is, he wears a glitter covered camouflage tuxedo in the ring with special glitter battle helmet. He shifts his weight from the ball of his foot to his toes, rocking himself back and forth in the center of the ring waiting for the match to get underway.

"Well we'll just have to see what happens as our match is about to get underway, Bobbo." Cyclone gets in the last word.

Well I had just got back from a break from the fight, I was weighing in heavy but still feeling alright.

"The Gauntlet" begins as black, red, green, and white pyros explode from the sides of the entrance stage. The Insane Luchador Andrew Rickmen emerges from the back. He pauses at the stage momentarily looking over the audience before raising his arms. He makes his decent into the trench as the fans begin chanting his name.

"LUCH-A-DOR!"

"The following match is a hardcore match and is scheduled for one fall," begins Funyon (shiny tux and all), "making his way to the ring from Easton, Pennsylvania weighing in at 201 pounds, Insane Luchadoooooooor!"

Luchador arrives at ringside and quickly rolls under the bottom rope and into the center of the ring. "The Gauntlet" plays on as Rickmen climbs the corner turnbuckles and raises his arms again in a sort of salute to the fans. The fans salute him back by chanting his name again.

"LUCH-A-DOR!"

Rickmen climbs down from the corner as his music and fans both die down. He makes his way into the center of the ring, waiting for his opponent's presence.

The entire arena is drenched in a cool, dark blue light as a hard driving acoustic guitar riff fills the air. Austin Sly comes strutting out of the back with an acoustic guitar in hand as the fans start booing his presence. He struts his way to the edge of the main stage before pausing to lift the guitar in the air and then bring it down to point at Rickmen in the ring. He stretches his neck and shoulders out as the lights in the arena start to swirl and fade back to their natural colors.

"Making his way to the ring from St. Louis, Missouri weighing in at 230 pounds, Austin Slllyyyy!" Funyon yells over the boos before exiting the ring.

Sly makes his way through the trench to the ring, but instead of climbing onto the ring like he normally does, he circles around it to the right, never unlocking his gaze from Rickmen inside the ring. He stops in the corner beside the announcers table and leans his guitar up against the wall before jumping on the ring apron. Instead of locking his arm around the top rope like he usually does though, he stands there and begins yelling at Luchador, taunting him. Luchador taunts him right back as he slowly walks towards him. The two have a heated exchange of words until they're standing face to face. Austin throws the first punch, but it's blocked. Rickmen quickly grabs hold of Austin and flips him over the top rope and into the ring.

"I don't think that's quite what he was hoping for eh Bobbo?" Cyclone quips.

"You've always had a knack for pointing out the obvious." Riley snaps back.

DING DING DING

Austin lands on his lower back, but bounces right back up and scurries his way across the ring where he latches himself onto the ring ropes to try and regain his composure. Rickmen comes charging in after him, but Austin shoots back to his feet and meets Luchador half way with a clothesline. Andrew bounces back up off the ring though as if it was actually a trampoline only to be sent back down with another clothesline. Austin reaches down to grab Andrew by his hair, but his hand gets shoved away as Rickmen sends a leg back behind him sending him down to the mat with a leg sweep. Andrew quickly jumps up and tries to lock on a front face lock, but Austin sends a couple elbows back into his side before reversing the move into a head lock, but this is countered too as Rickmen shoves Austin off of him and forward into the ropes. Austin latches on to them again to pause the match as Rickmen also tries to regain his composure.

The fans give a slight cheer to the two men for the grappling exhibition. You can see both men are taking this time to plan their next move (and the move after that) while still not taking their eyes off of each other.

"Oh the tension," quips Comet.

Rickmen tries to charge Austin again, but he slides out of the ring beneath the bottom rope. The ever vigilant Rickmen follows him out though with a baseball slide out of the ring and into the back of his opponent, sending him down. Sly, however, knows better than to leave himself open and unprotected and quickly climbs back to his feet and takes a defensive stance against the potential onslaught from Rickmen. Both men come out swinging with right hook after right hook, neither man giving an inch, but eventually the size and strength advantage works to Sly's favor as Rickmen starts to reel back. Austin takes advantage as he sends a knee into Andrew's gut before latching hold of his arm and sending him running towards the ring steps with an Irish whip. Rickmen is prepared for it though as he manages to slow himself enough to jump onto the top of the ring steps. Sly closes in a little, not knowing what to expect, but this proves to be a mistake as Luchador jumps back with a moonsault that takes both men down momentarily.

This garners a reaction from the crowd as a long "Ohhhh" fills the arena.

"We're not wasting any time getting into the hard hitting here," Riley comments. "It looks like that took the wind out of Andrew and Austin as both men are down, but they're already working their way back to their feet."

Rickmen makes it back to his feet first as Austin is still only on one knee. Rickmen uses this opportunity to look for a weapon, going under the ring searching. He quickly emerges with a steel-folding chair in hand. Austin has moved away from the spot where Rickmen expected to find him though. Andrew glances about ringside quickly before he finds him exactly where he doesn't want to find him, on the ringside. Before Luchador even has a chance to react, Sly comes flying off the apron with a spinning heel kick that sends the chair surges backwards into the face of Luchador.

This gets another "Ohhhh" reaction from the crowd.

Sly quickly removes the chair from the possession of Rickmen by tossing it into the ring. But as soon as he's turned his attention back to Rickmen, the man has already made his way back to his feet. A little unstable, but still back on his feet. Austin tries to take a swing at the stumbling Luchador, but it's blocked. Andrew returns fire with a stiff right hook that sends Austin stumbling back a slight ways. Austin doesn't let one failed attempt slow him down though, as he comes back swinging only to get his punch blocked and receive retaliation again. This time though, Austin does not come back swinging as Andrew takes control and sends right hook after right hook to Austin's face, sending him back peddling toward the ring guard wall eventually driving him back first into it. Rickmen pounds on Austin for a few seconds longer before backing away and turning to lift his fist to the audience and acknowledge their cheers and of course garner another cheap pop for even acknowledging the fans.

"Citizen Rickmen is showing what kind of a class act right here by acknowledging his fans," Comet interjects.

"Hardly a class act," Riley replies, "he's just milking the attention."

Andrew comes in planning to clothesline Austin into the crowd, but instead he's met with a shoulder block to his stomach as Austin begins to try and fight back into the match. Austin sends his shoulder into the midsection of Luchador once again causing him to double over from the sharp pain. Sly quickly circles his opponent before grabbing onto his arm and sending him back inside the ring. Rickmen rolls into the center of the ring before grabbing at his stomach and rolling onto his side. Austin uses this time as he lifts the ring apron and goes searching under the ring.

"He's like a kid looking for a toy in the bottom of the cereal box. Look at him go." Riley comments.

Austin keeps searching under the ring until he finally re-emerges with a table! He takes his time and sets it up outside the ring about half way between the ring apron and the fan guard wall. He then turns his attention back into the ring where Rickmen has climbed back to his feet. Austin slowly climbs back onto the ring apron, eyes locked with Andrew's, before climbing through the middle ropes with caution. Austin lurks forward, trying not to come close enough to Luchadore to be grabbed, but still trying to get close enough to grab Luchadore. Rickmen makes his move suddenly catching Austin off guard with a kick to his midsection. Austin doubles over before being brought down to the mat with a quick DDT and pin attempt.

One!

Two!

Kick out!

"He caught him by surprise there but I'm shocked that he got a two count from a DDT!" Riley states.

Austin doesn't climb back to his feet but instead just scoots himself away from Rickmen and toward the ropes. Andrew doesn't seem to notice though as he goes to retrieve the chair from across the ring. Luchador doesn't use it as a weapon at this moment though as he unfolds it and sets it up in the corner opposite corner of the ring before returning his attention to Sly whom is leaning on the ropes. Rickmen starts to walk across the ring but before he can even make it half way to Austin he gets floored with a clothesline by his surging opponent. Sly quickly pulls Luchadore back to his feet before shoving him into the ropes closest to the table. Austin remains latched to Luchador at the wrist before sending him across the ring with an Irish whip. Luchador flies into the opposing ropes and comes bouncing back off making a direct path toward Sly. Sly bends over in preparation for a back body drop to send Luchador over the ropes, but Rickmen sees this and instead slides down onto his knees and uppercuts Austin, sending him reeling back into the ropes.

"That was a close one for Citizen Rickmen. I don't know how many more of those he can pull off." Cyclone comments.

Andrew keeps throwing right hand after right hand to Austin's face, keeping him against the ropes. The fans counting along with each punch thrown.

"One! Two! Three! Four! Five! Six! Seven!"

Andrew finally pulls his opponent off the ropes and sends him flying toward the other side of the ring with a quick Irish whip. Austin comes bouncing off the ropes toward Rickmen, who is bent over prepared for a back body drop. Austin is prepared for this though as he puts on the brakes and instead sets Luchador up for the Earthquake!

"This could be it! Citizen Sly can win it right here if he hits this!" Cyclone yells.

"I bet Insane Luchador didn't see that coming huh?" Riley snidely replies.

"It's not over yet, Bobbo." Cyclone seems assured with himself.

Austin brings Andrew up to a power bomb position, but Andrew uses his momentum to flip over Austin and actually pull him down for a pin attempt.

One!

Kick out before two!

Both men quickly climb to their feet. Austin takes the first swing trying to connect with a hard right hand, but Luchador quickly ducks it. Austin quickly spins back around to face his opponent, but Luchador was already ready for him as he sends a foot to his gut. Luchador continues sending kick after kick to the midsection of Sly until he has him backed to the ropes. Luchador quickly whips Austin across the ring, but follows him across the ring too. Sly tries to jump on the middle rope to hit a springboard dropkick, but instead he receives a shove from behind that sends him over the top rope and through the table he had set up a few minutes prior!

"Ho-ly shit!"

"Austin went down hard! He should be out of it here!" Riley yells.

Andrew stands in the ring for a second as the referee runs past him and out of the ring to check on Sly.

"I don't know if Austin is even going to get up after that."

Luchador climbs out of the ring and hops down off the apron where Austin is grasping at the wall trying to pull himself up, but failing miserably. Luchador slowly walks to beside Austin, but instead of pinning him, he looks around the arena as the fans begin to chant his name.

"Luch-a-dor!"

Rickmen looks down at his opponent that is now pulling at the leg of his pants, trying to pull himself up. Andrew reaches down and grabs a fistful of Austin's hair before pulling him up to his knees and then to a full standing position by it. Rickmen lets go of the lock of hair and Austin stumbles a little before falling back on the fan guard wall behind him. Sly shakes his head, flopping the hair back from his eyes. "Hit me," he says, "come on Luchador. Hit me. Finish the job."

Rickmen reels back his fist before looking around the arena. The fans chant his name. He knows what they want... they want to see blood.

"Luch-a-dor!"

Rickmen's fist is still drawn back, seemingly paused in time. He looks at his opponent one last time before he straightens his arm out and clotheslines him over the wall and into the crowd. Austin slinks over the wall before smacking the ground with a thud. He seems to have lost all of his energy after going through the table, and Rickmen knows this and feels firmly in control of the match. Security scrambles to the scene from near by, clearing a spot in the crowd.

"Watch out citizens! Looks like our match is spilling out into the crowd." Cyclone seems generally concerned about the audience members.

Austin slowly struggles his way back to his feet, but he gets sent reeling from a shot to the face from Luchador. Sly grabs at his face as he walks trying to protect it. Luchador stalks him though, sending another right hand to his face anytime he turns back around to check for his pursuer. The two eventually make it to the cleared pathway between the bleacher and floor seats. Austin stands slightly in front of Andrew, stumbling to keep his balance. Luchador looks at the floor around him, searching for anything that can be used at a weapon. What he finds is an empty beer bottle.

"What's does he have there? Is that a beer bottle?" Riley asks.

As Austin stumbles around, Rickmen turns the bottle sideways and takes a running start. The bottle makes direct contact with the Sly's forehead, shattering the bottle and sending Sly down hard once again. Austin rolls onto his stomach and grabs his forehead.

"Look at what Rickmen has done! Look at it Cyclone! Not such a great guy now is he? He just busted a beer bottle on Austin's forehead!" Riley yells, appalled.

"In desperate times, you do desperate things." Cyclone calmly replies.

"So you approve of this carnage?" Riley replies, still appalled.

Luchador looks at his hand, only to find the neck of the bottle left. He tosses it down to the ground before turning his attention back to his opponent who is still laying on the ground clutching his head. Rickmen walks over and grabs the back of Austin's hair, pulling him up again. Not to the surprise of anyone on hand, Sly now has a steady stream of blood oozing out of his forehead. Austin has even more trouble standing now that he is loosing blood. Rickmen wants to get out of the audience though, so he drags Austin beside him by the hair leading him toward the stage. The two cut through the crowd and shortly have made their way to another crowd guard. Rickmen just tosses Austin freely over the top of it this time though. Austin continues to grab at his forehead trying to stop the bleeding while Rickmen climbs over the wall. Andrew approaches Sly fairly non-chalant knowing that the match is his to win now. Much to his surprise though, Austin comes out swinging. One! Two! Three!

"Austin is trying to rally here!" Riley seems excited.

"Why hasn't Citizen Rickmen just pinned him yet?"

... Austin only gets three punches in before he's stopped with a knee to the gut that sends him down to one knee.

"... And he's been stopped." Disappointment settles back in on Riley.

Rickmen wastes no time as he quickly drags Austin up and onto the stage. Crates and barbwire litter the area... the perfect setting for a hardcore match. Rickmen drags his opponent to a part of the stage with a bundle of barbed wire. He brings Austin around to in front of him where he quickly falls to one knee in his weakened state. Luchador looks around the arena once again. Everyone knows what's coming up here. The fans begin chanting his name again.

"Luch-a-dor!"

Andrew grabs the back of Austin's head as he prepares to set him up for a power bomb. Before Rickmen has the chance though, he's surprised with a low blow. Luchador turns away and hops in a little circle, trying to distract himself from the pain. It only gets worse for him though as Austin thrusts his shoulder into his stomach. Sly quickly scoops his opponent up on his should before twisting his own body around toward the barbed wire and delivering a spinebuster onto the bundle. Sly then collapses onto the stage.

"Both men are down!" Riley yells.

Luchador quickly pulls himself up and off of the wire, but the damage has been done as blood now leaks out of his back from several small holes that were bore into his back from the spikes on the barbed wire. He reaches around to feel his back, only to bring a hand covered in blood back as proof of the damage. Austin has got a second wind now though, as he climbs to his feet to meet Andrew eye to eye. Sly makes the first move sending a stiff kick into the stomach of his opponent. Austin quickly grabs up one of the smaller boxes and brings it down across Rickmen's back. Luchador shoots back to an upright position from the pain and stumbles forward into the trench. Sly follows him down. As the two get closer to the ring, Andrew turns around to try and take a swing, but Sly blocks it and delivers a right hand of his knocking Rickmen into the ring apron.

"They're heading back into the ring. Hopefully this match will be over soon before anyone gets anymore hurt." Cyclone comments, once again concerned.

Austin grabs Andrew by the waist of his pants and rolls him into the ring, following him in shortly there after. Austin quickly whips Andrew into the corner. Austin's face is now covered in blood as he looks around the ring, confused by his surroundings. He quickly makes his way to the corner where a steel chair had been set up earlier in the match. He grabs the chair and moves it to the corner where Andrew is now leaning. Austin folds the chair back flat before laying it on the campus a few feet out from the corner ring post. Sly grabs hold of Luchador's head and locks him in a DDT-like position.

"What's he doing here?"

Austin pulls Luchador away from the ropes some before turning both of them around so this his own back would be facing the corner turnbuckles.

"Don't do this!"

Austin climbs to the second turnbuckle.

"No!"

Austin jumps off the turnbuckle keeping Luchador's head firmly locked in place. Sly uses his weight and momentum to turn around Luchadore in air and bring his head crashing down onto the folded chair! Rickmen bounces off the chair at a sharp angle before rolling over onto his back.

"Citizen Sly just tornado DDT-ed Citizen Rickmen onto that steel chair from the middle turnbuckle! This match has got to be over!" Cyclone comments throughout the move.

Austin lays on the mat for a second regaining his breath. He slowly pulls himself onto his hands and knees before crawling over to cover Luchadore.

One!

Two!

Thre no! Rickmen lifts his shoulder up!

Austin shoots to his knees and grabs the hair on the side of his head in disbelief! Sly quickly scoops up the chair before he begins yelling at Luchadore. "Get up! Get up you pussy! Get on your feet!"

Luchadore slowly struggles back up to his feet with Austin being careful to stay behind him. Andrew tries to retain his balance, but it's of no use as Austin comes running in and delivers a chair shot to his bleeding back. Luchadore collapses down to his knees, reeling in pain. Austin backs up a little before running in and clocking Luchadore in the back with yet another chair shot, this time knocking him back down flat on the mat.

"Just pin him and get the match over with!" Cyclone yells!

Austin, however, doesn't seem to think that enough damage has been dealt as he continues to send chair shot after chair shot to Luchador's back. One! Two! Three! Four! Austin finally throws the blood-covered chair away from himself. Sly falls to his knees before rolling Andrew over onto his back to pin him.

One!

Two!

Three!

"Austin Sly picks up another win with a stunning victory over the Insane Luchador in Luchador's own hardcore environment! This man has some talent!" Riley seems ecstatic.

Austin rolls over off of Rickmen and onto his own back.

"It was an impressive match from both men. I don't think this is the last time we'll see these two meet either!" Cyclone replies.

Austin slowly works his way back to his feet, using the ring ropes to pull himself up.

"On to bigger and better things, Cyclone... bigger and better things..." Riley echoes.

Austin raises his right arm in a show of victory before climbing his way out of the ring. The fans, however, boo him out of the arena.

the.weej · April 26, 2004

Blue strobe lights begin flashing around The University Arena, as Hotwire’s “Not Today” starts playing over the PA system.

“After that hardcore battle we just witnessed, we go into the return of “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins. In his return, he goes one on one with Citizen Stryke!”

“Spike has been out for nearly three months due to a knee injury. I just wish he stayed gone.”

“Why?”

“Have you ever had a conversation with him? He is very annoying.”

After several seconds, Spike walks out from under the trench. Spike flips the hood from his jacket off his head and starts jumping around as the crowd gives off a positive reaction. Spike charges down to the ring, quickly sliding in under the bottom rope and jumping up to his feet.

“Citizen Jenkins looks to be in great shape!”

“Spike has always been in good shape. But that doesn’t stop him from sucking.”

“You are a very negative person.”

The camera focuses in on Funyon in the middle of the ring.

“First, in the ring. Weighing in at two hundred and twenty five pounds. From Hollywood, California and making his return to the SWF! He is “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins!!!”

Spike jumps to the middle rope in the corner and raises both arms in the air.

“Spike is making his return tonight as he goes one on one with the man known as Stryke.”

“That is no easy task. Considering Stryke is ten times greater then Spike will ever be!”

“Not Today” dies down as blue and silver pyro explodes from the top of the arena. Cypress Hill’s “How I Could Just Kill a Man” starts up.

“Here we go!”

Stryke appears out from under the trench as the crowd rises to their feet with jeers. Stryke makes his way past the crates and barbed wire as he comes down the aisle, ignoring the fans.

“And his opponent!” booms Funyon. “Weighing in at Two Hundred and Nineteen pounds, hailing from Sydney, Australia. He is Stryke!!!”

Stryke makes his way to the ring and hops up onto the ring apron. Stryke steps up onto the second turnbuckle and raises his arms in the air.

“Stryke is going to destroy Spike!”

“How can you tell that just by watching Stryke’s entrance?”

“I have skills.”

Stryke jumps over the top rope and stands in the corner opposite of Spike. The referee comes over and checks Stryke for weapons, before signaling for the bell.

*Ding Ding Ding*

“And this match is underway at SWF Battleground!”

Both men stare at each other, as they enter the center of the ring. Stryke looks around the audience, as Spike puts his hand out for a handshake. Stryke looks at Spike, and accepts the handshake.

“Stryke! What are you doing?”

Both men back away from each other and start to circle around the ring. Both enter the center and lock up with a collar-elbow tie up. They each struggle to take control, with Spike finally getting the go behind with a hammerlock. Almost instantly, Stryke reverses behind Spike and locks in his own hammerlock. Spike tries to shake Stryke off, but instead counters back into his own hammerlock.

“Spike and Stryke trade off hammerlocks. Both showing off some of their technical skills.”

From the hammerlock, Spike snaps forward straight into a side headlock. Stryke easily pushes Spike off, straight into the ropes. Spike bounces off the ropes, and charges back into a shoulder block by Stryke. Stryke quickly charges into the ropes. Spike rolls over onto his stomach as Stryke jumps over him and continues his way into the ropes. Spike jumps up to his feet and into the air as he leapfrogs over Stryke. Stryke runs into the ropes again, and charges back at Spike. Spike slaps Stryke in the back, as Stryke continues running the ropes. Stryke bounces off the ropes and comes flying back toward Spike. Spike slaps Stryke on the back, as Stryke continues off the ropes. Spike slowly backs away from the center of the ring, as Stryke charges across the ring into the opposite ropes. Stryke continues running into the ropes, from one side of the ring to the other.

“Stryke….STOP RUNNING!”

“Ha ha!”

“That is not funny! Damn it, Stryke! Stop running!”

Stryke continues running into the ropes, as Spike looks around at the laughing audience. After about his eighth lap, Stryke finally realizes that Spike isn’t even near him, and stops running the ropes. Stryke looks around at the audience, realizing that Spike made a fool of him.

“Spike is taking it to Stryke tonight!”

Stryke starts jumping around, and wailing at Spike.

“Stryke doesn’t like being made into a fool, obviously.”

“No one does!”

Spike tries to put it behind him, and puts his hand out for Stryke to shake. Without even thinking about, Stryke nails Spike across the face with a slap!

“That’s right! Show him you are not a joke, Stryke!”

Spike holds his face, as he looks back at Stryke. In retaliation, Spike unleashes a stiff knife edged chop across the chess of Stryke.

“WHOOOOO”

Stryke grabs at his chest as he stumbles backwards. Spike cracks another knife edged chop across the chest of Stryke.

“WHOOOOO”

Stryke stumbles backwards into the ropes. Spike grabs Stryke’s wrist and Irish whips him across the ring into the ropes. Stryke bounces into the ropes and comes charging back towards Spike. Spike hooks his arm under the returning Stryke’s arm and flips him in the air, looking for a hip toss. But Stryke easily lands on his feet, and in one fluid motion flips Spike over onto his back with a Japanese arm drag! Both men jump to their feet, with Stryke taking the charge. Stryke heads for Spike, but Spike quickly takes him down with a Japanese arm drag of his own! Both men jump to their feet, but Spike gets the advantage by pushing Stryke back into the ropes. Spike grabs Stryke by the wrist, and Irish whips him across the ropes. Stryke bounces into the ropes, and comes charging back at Spike. Spike wraps his arms around the waist of the returning Stryke, and flips him through the air looking for a tilt-a-whirl. Through the air Stryke goes, but is able to land on his feet! Stryke grabs Spike by the wrist, and Irish whips him back into the ropes. Spike bounces off the ropes and comes back into the waiting arms of Stryke. Stryke wraps his arms around Spike’s waist, and flips him through the air with a tilt-a-whirl. Through the air Spike goes, but Spike lands on his feet! Spike grabs Stryke’s wrist and Irish whips him across the ring into the ropes again! Stryke bounces into the ropes, and comes charging back towards Spike. Spike throws his arm through the air, aiming for a clothesline. Stryke ducks under the clothesline, as Spike charges into the ropes in front of him. Spike bounces into the ropes and comes charging back towards Stryke who is waiting with a clothesline of his own! But Spike ducks underneath it! Spike and Stryke both turn towards each other at the same time, and with the same idea in mind both jump into the air with a dropkick, that hits nothing but air! Both jump to their feet, and face off in an Indy stance!

“Look at these two go!”

“Why is the crowd cheering? I HATE THE INDY STANCE!”

“Both men have a very similar style in the ring. They both went for the same thing, and both came up with nothing. This match is going to turn into who can hit who the most for the win!”

Both Stryke and Spike get up to their feet, as they enter the middle of the ring. Stryke holds his hand out, looking for a handshake from Spike. But Spike didn’t forget what happened earlier, and slaps Stryke across the face!

“Hey! What a sore loser!”

Stryke holds his face, but retaliates with a quick kick to the abdomen. Spike falls over, as Stryke unleashes a knee to the chest. Stryke throws Spike’s arm over his shoulder and lifts Spike into the air, driving him down back first with a big power slam. Stryke walks backwards into the ropes, and comes back with a knee drop to the forehead of Spike. Spike grabs at his head, allowing Stryke to wraps his arms around his throat with a side headlock.

“There you go Stryke! Quick shots, in and out. Wear Spike down!”

“Stryke getting some shots in before locking in a hold to cut off the oxygen to Spike’s head. Nice strategy to keep the high flyer down.”

“Stryke is a master of ring psychology. He knows how to wear you down, and beat the crap out of you!”

Stryke keeps the hold locked in, as Spike struggles to escape. Spike throws his arms around, trying to get the crowd behind him. Soon enough, the crowd begins a “Holl-E-Wood” and “Stryke Sucks” chant going. Spike begins getting his blood flowing, as Stryke yells at the crowd to shut up. Spike begins fighting up, getting to one knee and soon enough to both of his feet. Stryke holds on to the headlock, but Spike throws an elbow into Stryke’s rib cage. Stryke stumbles back, as Spike hits another elbow. Stryke releases the hold, as Spike charges into the ropes with a full head of steam. Spike bounces into the ropes, and comes charging back towards Stryke. Stryke tries to stop Spike, and throws his knee up, but Spike dives over it! Spike locks his arm around Stryke’s leg, and pulls him over onto the mat with a school boy!!!

One!

Tw….No!

Stryke pushes Spike off of him! Both men get to their feet, but Stryke slows Spike down with a knee to the gut.

“That was a close call for Stryke!”

“What are you talking about? Spike only got a one count!”

With Spike knelt over, Stryke locks his leg around Spikes and his arm over Spike’s neck. Stryke pulls Spike backwards, driving him back first into the mat with a Russian leg sweep! Stryke quickly jumps up to his feet and blindly leaps into the air, crashing back first into Spike’s chest with a standing senton! Stryke stays on top of Spike, and hooks the leg!

One!

Two!

Th…No! Spike gets a shoulder up!

“And Spike is not going down that quick! He still has a lot of fight in him!”

“I’m surprised. I thought Spike would have gone down a lot faster, especially against Stryke!

Stryke rolls off of Spike, and climbs to his feet. Stryke reaches down and grabs Spike by his hair, pulling him up to his feet. Stryke grabs Spike by the wrist and Irish whips him into the corner. Without wasting time, Stryke charges after Spike towards the corner. Stryke comes in with a clothesline, but Spike catches him with a boot to the face!! Stryke stumbles backwards as Spike walks out of the corner. Spike turns his back to Stryke, and grabs onto the top rope. Spike jumps up onto the middle ropes, and springboards back with a cross body that connects with Stryke!

“Springboard Cross body by Spike!”

“Kick out, Stryke!”

One!

Two!

Th…No! Stryke pushes Spike off of him. Spike climbs up to his feet, and waits for Stryke to get up. Stryke pulls himself up, and Spike charges into the ropes behind Stryke. Spike bounces into the ropes, and comes running back towards Stryke at full speed. Stryke turns around, just in time to see Spike throw his foot into the air for a Yakuza Kick!! But Stryke ducks underneath it! Stryke gets behind Spike, and spins him around. Stryke with a quick boot to the gut, allowing him to pull Spike into a front face lock. Stryke throws Spike’s arm over his neck, and lifts Spike straight into the air for a suplex! Spike pulls all his weight though and falls behind Stryke, landing on his feet! Stryke turns around as Spike spins around, catching Stryke with a rolling lariat! Spike quickly covers Stryke, and hooks the leg!

One!

Two!

Thr…No! Stryke gets a shoulder up! Spike crawls away from Stryke and gets up to his feet, as he stands in the corner. Stryke gets to his feet, and holds himself up in the corner opposite of Spike. Spike charges towards the corner, diving to the mat with a handstand. Spike jumps out of the handstand, and leaps into the air, with a pump kick to the face of Stryke!!

“Tidal Wave!”

“That move should be illegal! It’s not right to kick someone in the face!”

“You’re preaching to the wrong man.”

Stryke stumbles out of the corner, but falls face first to the mat. Spike hurries over and rolls Stryke onto his back, going for the cover!!

One!

Two!

Thr…No! Stryke gets a foot on the bottom rope!

“Ha! Spike didn’t hook the leg!”

“Spike made the mistake. When you are in the ring with a veteran and ring general like Stryke, you need to make sure you hook the leg. A small mistake that Spike now has to pay for.”

Spike climbs up to his feet, and rests against the turnbuckles, as Stryke makes it up to his knees. Spike centers in on Stryke, and…

*CRACK*

A stiff kick to the chest of Stryke!

“OUCH!”

“That looked like it hurt!”

“Looked like it hurt? THAT KICK HURT ME!”

Spike backs away, but comes back with a second kick to the chest…

*CRACK*

“That’s the second kick to the chest. You know what’s next!”

“NO! NO, I DON’T!”

“Yes, you do.”

“Yeah… I do.

Spike backs away from Stryke, as he summons all the strength he has for the final kick to the face. Stryke fully stands on his knees, holding his chest in pain. Spike comes in for the final kick….

…… but Stryke ducks it! Spike spins around with all the momentum behind him, allowing Stryke the opportunity to push Spike chest first into the corner.

“Nice counter by the former SWF USJL Champion!”

Stryke gets to his feet, as Spike falls out of the corner. Spike turns towards Stryke, who meets him with a quick kick to the gut. Stryke pulls Spike into a front face lock. Stryke grabs a hold of Spike’s tights and lifts him straight up into the air, dropping down with an Implant DDT that drives Spike onto the top of his skull!!!

“Implant DDT by Stryke that sends Spike right onto the top of his head! Beautiful!”

“That may be enough to put Spike away!”

Stryke sits up, and rolls Spike over onto his back as he makes a cocky cover.

One!

Two!

Thre…NO! Spike kicks out! Stryke sits up; stunned that Spike can kick out of that.

“How did he do that? That’s impossible!”

“Spike is not willing to lose in his first match back.”

“Screw that! Kick his ass Stryke!”

Stryke gets up to his feet, and looks around the arena. Stryke uses his thumb to motion a slit across the throat.

“It’s over now! Stryke is going for the Low End Theory!”

“If Stryke hits his finisher that should be enough to keep Spike down!”

Stryke reaches down, and grabs Spike by the hair. Stryke pulls the lifeless Spike up to his feet, and pulls him into the center of the ring. Stryke pulls Spike’s arm in between his legs, and sets up the pump handle position. Stryke locks his arm around Spike’s, and quickly pulls Spike up with the pump handle. But Spike is able to pull out of it, and lands behind Stryke on his feet! Spike quickly spins Stryke around. Spike wraps his arms around Stryke’s neck and dives forward, driving Stryke face first into the mat with The Bad Beat!

‘The Bad Beat! From out behind the Low End Theory!”

“Where did that come from?”

Spike quickly rolls Stryke over onto his back and covers him!

One!

Two!

Three!!

*Ding Ding Ding*

“Spike wins at SWF Battleground!”

“No!”

“Spike with the return win over former USJL Champion, Stryke! The Bad Beat from out of nowhere counters the Low End Theory!”

“Stryke had him beat!”

“Apparently, not.”

Hotwire’s “Not Today” starts up over the PA system, as Spike rolls out under the bottom rope to the outside of the ring. Spike slaps some hands with some fans, as he makes his way to the back.

“Fan’s, we still have a lot left for you tonight. An Empty Arena match between Landon Maddix and Alan Clark, Last Man Standing match with Kibagami and Alex Zenon, and the Ladder match between Tom Flesher and Ann Onita. Plus five titles on the line, with the SWF World Title up for grabs as Charlie Matthews defend against John Duran!"

the.weej · April 26, 2004

Comet: Well, next up, Riley, this carousel of carnage continues as we prepare for the fleet-footed Frenchman taking on the fancy-free enemy of all fiends Tryst!

Bobby: We're only in the first couple rotations, 'tho. Best to save the barf bags and sawdust for when the kiddies get REALLY sick later in the ride - a pity they won't be used here.

Comet: Please. Let's get down to Funyon for the introductions!

The crowd hushes as the sharply dressed as ever ring announcer stands in the centre of the squared circle, a spotlight down on him and a mic in hand.

Funyon: Ladies and gentlemen! The following contest, scheduled for one fall, is a singles match! Introducing first...

The lights drop out section by section as “Forest” by System of a Down begins its rising melody, and the crowd, relatively subdued until now, detonates like a gasoline tanker.

“AND SO WE BEGIN!”

A voice screams over the P.A. system. The fans rumble, getting louder and louder still with every passing moment. The Smarktron flashes to life as we enter into the forest...run...running through. Dodging the branches and leaves. Leaping over the fallen old trees. The Darkness begins to take hold as clouds cover the sky in the night...but in one place, they begin to part. The moon makes an appearance, and it shines down upon the forest. As a solitary figure emerges from the trees, the moon catches hold of his eyes and lights them up like a blue flame, supernatural. Staring forward, he lets no distraction take hold of him; and so he reaches over his back and grabs an arrow from his quiver...pulls it back...and lets it fly. The stage explodes in blue flame as the entryway raises a white hot light that stretches across itself and draws attention to the shadow emerging from the tunnel. He takes one step. Another. And then he stops, staring out into the sea of his admirers as they welcome him into their hearts as a hero.

Funyon: From Bairnsdale, Britain! Weighing in tonight at two hundred-eighteen pounds... TRYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSST!!

The Sherwood Fable marches down the clearing of the WWI battlefield mockup. Half way down, he turns on the jets, bolting at the ring, under the bottom rope and hopping up to his feet, jumping a little to loosen up.

Comet: Tryst looks energetic as ever.

Bobby: Yup.

Comet: ...I can't help but notice, Robert, that your rapier wit is somewhat lacking today.

Bobby: It's a frigging throwaway match, Comet? What do you expect? Geez, they can't be gold all the time.

"Forest" fades out as Tryst settles, and is replaced by something entierly different. Thumping bass beats and samples fill the arena as the theme from La Haine – “La 25ème Image” by Iam and Daddy Nuttea starts up, and red, gold and green lights flare, lighting up the entranceway and ring in the pan-African colours.

“C'est la 25ème image et elle s'inspire de vos carnages

C'est la 25ème image, choisis bien ton personage…”

Images of social waste and deprivation fill the SmarkTron, showing the poverty, crime and depression as it affects the immigrant communities in southern France, cut with Said chilling with his homies back in the Bainlieux and shots of the rap collective IAM rapping.

Funyon: Annnnnnnnnnnnnd his opponent! Hailing from the Planet Mars, and being accompanied by Chris Card and Natasha! He weighs in at two hundred twenty-five pounds... welcome, SYYYYYYYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEED!

As Akhenaton starts the first verse up, Said literally jumps over the top of the trench entranceway and bounds, shuffles, dances and leaps his way down to the ring, Natasha and Card follwing behind at a leisurely pace.

Bobby: You know what really depresses me, Comet?

Comet: Do tell, chum.

Bobby: If you put together the length of all the guys who walk down that battlefield entrance TONIGHT, I think you get more territorial advances than the Allies had in the entire battle of the Somme.

Said slides under the bottom rope and hunkers down in a corner, preparing himself to do battle with his opponent. Tryst and the Senegal Sensation lock eyes, the crowd hushes, and the referee, Ced Ordonez, prepares to signal the timekeeper to start everything off... but he stops as he sees Chris Card walking up the steps and entering the ring, curiously with a microphone in hand.

Card: Hey, yo! YO! Don't you dare call for that bell! I got somethin' to say, and Tryst, Said, it's gonna' break your little hearts. There will NOT be any match here tonight between the two of you.

Comet: Say... what?

Tryst, and especially Said, look on, very confused. Said tries to speak, but is hushed by Card.

Card: Shaddap, boy! I need to tell you something, and it's bigger than this match, this PPV... shit, just about anything! I...

Card trails off. He looks at Tryst, the Sherwood Fable seeming quite confused.

Card: What in the HELL are you still doing here? This is a private conversation, and I don't think you've got any part in it! As you may tell by the accent I'm FROM Nottingham, not that you americans would know a nottingham accent from anything you see on TV. You don't know SHIT about my city or my culture, and it's about god damn time you went to find yourself because this is NOT who you are. Now if you want help doing that.. just come ask me. Until then... here's my calling card!

Shocked, Tryst cannot react as Card fires off a lightning quick superkick that catches the Sherwood Fable under the jaw and sends him sprawling to the canvas! The crowd, in shock, starts booing verhemently!

Comet: Wha... what in the name of Odin is this?

Bobby: Well, it appears that Card just waltzed in, called off the match, and superkicked Tryst to the ground. Would you care for me to illustrate it for you or something?

Said opens his mouth again, and angrily starts protesting what Card's just done. With an insufferably self-satisfied look, he turns back to Said and shushes him with a finger.

Card: Now... I'm sure you've been wondering, just like all these morons in attendance, who, exactly, provided the money for Chris Card Managerial Services Incorporated. Well, it's pretty obvious, really. This mysterious benefactor is a man more important than this match, this show, or shit... maybe *even* myself.

Chris grins smarmily, then continues admist the booing.

Card: He couldn't wait any longer to let this stuff be known, so if you'd all like to SHUT UP AND SHOW SOME GODDAMNED RESPECT, I present to you the man... the *money*...

"ALLLLLLLLLLLL ABOARD! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Card: THE SUICIDE KING!

Comet: WHAT!?

Immediately, the crowd goes from angry to downright UGLY VIOLENT. Brazillian soccer riot ugly! Doug Gilmour after the second round of the playoffs ugly! The University Arena is caught up in a malestrom of booing, jeering, and general nastiness as the familiar riff of Ozzy's "Crazy Train" rocks on!

Bobby: Ahahaha! Of course! It all makes sense now! He might be banned from television, Cyclone, but he's still part owner of your ass and mine!

Comet: But... but...

Bobby: Hey, he's got an eye for talent. Besides, did you honestly think King could keep his meathooks off fed activities for too long?

Finally, the SWF Smarktron blinks to life, revealing the image of the one and only Suicide King. Blond hair shining, teeth gleaming, ridiculously expensive suit and general presence radiating power, presence and smarm.

Suicide King: What? You were expecting maybe Pope John Paul II? The Illuminati? Aliens? Of COURSE I'm the money behind Chris Card... I have an unerring eye for talent, and Card, in addition to a great gimmick, also has a keen mind for the business. I have to say that I'm impressed, Chris. How you could get people to beleive THAT dancing idiot is a great wrestler I'll never know. I always had faith in you, that's why I put MY money into YOUR project...

Said objects loudly to King, poingaintly ignores him. Card shoots him a nasty look as he turns around and begins angrily demanding to know what the hell is going on.

King: Now, you may be asking what in the hell am I doing here when my actions are limited by the board of directors? Well, none of your business, chuckleheads! Besides, strictly speaking I am NOT there. I'm live via satellite. I don't know if you're even there tonight, Mark, or if you are letting Zenon enjoy his last few moments of illusory power. But if you have a problem with what is going down in the ring, feel free to wander on out and I am sure that Card can put his foot through your chest. And of course, because I am who I am and I am perpetually eight steps ahead of you, I have already taken the liberty of "protecting" Mr. Card and his female associate from any repercussions such an action might bring. I don't like getting my perfect hands dirty like this any more, but I suppose it's ok since my manicure is about 300 miles away... not coming, Mark? Hmm. Maybe you've learned something while I've been gone.

Anyway, back to the matter at hand. Said. You're fired. You could usea little more training, so I think Chris should leave his Calling Card.

Said gapes, shocked at the words coming from King's mouth... and turns around right into another blazing superkick from Card! Said literally goes flipping out of the ring and tumbling to the floor, where Natasha adds insult to injury with a solid stomp to his face.

King: Now surely I can find a better use for you than training novelty acts, Chris. Hmm... yeah. There we go. These people won't appreciate the intricacies, Chris, so I'll just text you.

On screen King fumbles in his pocket and pulls out a cell phone, before beginning to type. Card pulls out his own in anticipation, creating the first wordless heel promo in history! Unsurprisingly, the crowd does not appreciate being left out of the loop... Card reads for a moment before breaking out into a cracked graveyard grin.

Card: Does Natasha get to be my PA?

King: I'll have the contracts to you both, Monday. This is a hell of a risk but then... I am a gambling man.

King fades off the Tron with a deprecating smile and a mocking wave to his adoring public, who are, of course, booing the absolute shit out of Card, King, and anything in the general vacinity of the ring.

Comet: I... I can't believe this! King hired Chris Card, and he hired him for the sole purpose of pumping him into the SWF heiarchy! This a powerplay of immense proportions, Robert! An injustity of-

Bobby: Oh, shut up. He's the OWNER, you spandex wearing ninny. Of COURSE he can pull a frigging power play!

In the ring, Card grins sleazily, looking out to the crowd.

Card: You idiots! You complete morons!! How in the HELL could you like either of these two? None of you people know the first thing about what makes a wrestler great. *I* am a great wrestler. I am TECHNICAL PERFECTION god damn it and along with Tom Flesher I'm the only chance any of you idiots will get of seeing true greatness in the ring tongiht. The difference is... I DON'T EVEN HAVE TO WRESTLE. Each and every one of you brain dead cock sucking motherfuckers in the audience out there tonight should bow down and kiss every step of the ground that I walk on. You sit there with your AMERICAN beer and why do you drink it? It's weak as piss it tastes of nothing and Budweiser is Budvar with the taste taken out, and none of you have the GUTS to try anything new, or because you're so stupid and blinkered you actually believe the adverts that say "if you dirnk Bud, you're an american damnit." THEY'RE WRITTEN FOR THOSE WHO SELL YOU THE BEER PEOPLE. You vote Bush because he shoots ragheads, and GOD DAMN IT JUST COS YOU NEVER MET AN ARAB YOU TREAT THEM AS INHUMAN. You let the rich rape your land and wreck your lives for tax cuts because you all, every. single. last. one. of. you. are too lazy, stupid and ignorant to realise that the tax cuts they offer anren't for your benfit, they're to bribe you. And the thing that hurts, the thing that etches deep into the bottom of your soul is you only boo me because deep down you know I'm right, and I'm the only one with the brains to point it out and the guts to say it. Bow down motherfuckers, bow down, beacuse CRHIS CARD IS BACK IN TOWN....

DEAL WITH IT!

And with the jeering near critical mass, Alice in Chains "Grind" cues up, and with a hearty laugh, Card exits the ring in the hail of boos, locking arms with Natasha and making noticable swagger back to the trench...

the.weej · April 26, 2004

The crowd is still excited from the previous wrestling match extravaganza and of course, the SWF is known for it’s no nonsense get straight to the fucking match attitude, no time is wasted for the lights to fall. Everyone is now shrouded in complete and utter darkness. After a few moments of silence, an ominous voice bellows from the rafters as the Smarktron slowly fades to life, showing a large crag of mountain that seems larger than life...

"An overwhelming symbol of power..."

...the voice fades away as the opening notes of "Darkest Omen" cascade over the crowd, two large spotlights hit the entrance ramp, showing a large figure standing tall and looking out over the arena. The music continues as the man steps from the shadows, revealing himself to be none other than Edward James. With an intense look frozen in his eyes, Edward walks to the ring, his every step met with the mix of slow, classical tones and cymbal crashes of his music...

”Introducing first, hailing from Redwater, Alberta Canada and Weighing in at TWO-hundred and SEVENTY SIX pounds... this is... EEEEDDDDWWWWAAAAARRRRRDDDD JJJJAAAMMMMEEEEEEESSSSS!”

The crowd politely cheers the up-and-coming rookie as he climbs the ring steps, and turns to face them as he reaches the apron. He raises one fist slowly and deliberately holds it high in the air for a moment before turning back and climbing into the ring.

“I don’t see the promise in this kid,” breaks the silence from the commentary table. Bobby Riley is playing his usual hate the face game.

Comet retorts, “Nonsense, Bobby! While Citizen James may have only one win during his SWF endeavour, the signs of a main eventer are there. He just needs to improve his game by embracing the powers within.”

“Embracing the powers within?” spits Bobby mockingly, “What the hell are you on about, you spandex-wearing freak? This is a man’s game and it needs a man’s attitude! He’s got to toughen up mentally and eliminate all these errors in his ability.”

“I think you’re minimising the importance of the soul in wrestling, Riley! A superhero’s soul is most important! But nevertheless, Eddie J does indeed need to iron out the errors in his wrestling. It has cost him before.”

The commentators continue to banter over the rookie Edward James until the lights switch off once again. Nothing illuminates the arena as ‘Imperium’ by Machine Head begins to play with its mellow strumming of the guitar. The intensity picks up progressively until it reaches boiling point...

“HHEEEAAAARRRR ME NNNNOOOOOOWWWWWWWWW!!!!!”

The lights flicker in a brooding red light as screens at homes around the world become distorted with picture noise. The lights and noise stops as the darkness goes black again, and a spotlight appears in the middle of the stage. Standing amidst the light is Crow, the Antichrist Superstar with his wings spread and head cocked back. The crowd cheers wildly for their recently returned superstar.

“Hear me now!

Words I vow!

No fucking regrets!”

Crow drops his arms and turns around to face the crowd. A cigarette is as always present, the BUTT resting gently between his lips. He reaches into his pocket, pulls out his zippo and smiles as he slashes the zippo back and forward across his pants.

”Fuck these chains!

No god damn slave!

I will be different!”

The Antichristian Phenomenon lights the cigarette in his mouth and proceeds to stride forward. After his second stride he throws the still lit zippo behind him onto the stage and an eruption of fire goes off! The crowd cheers wildly as the flames rise up to two metres in height!

I'll stand here defiantly!

My middle finger raised!

Fuck your prejudice!

Crow strides up the steel steps and enters the ring. He walks over to his corner and sits down, smoking, and waits for the bell to be sounded. But before that happens, Funyon must explain the rules of the match.

“The following contest is scheduled for one fall and is to be contested under SWF standard rules. That is, disqualifications and countouts are in place.

Edward James jumps around wildly, punching the air in an attempt to get psyched and warmed up. Crow, on the other hand, simply continues sitting and smoking. That is until Referee Hall beckons the men to meet him in the middle.

“Crow looks eager to start tonight,” sarcastically remarks Riley.

“Don’t be swayed by his silent appearance, Bobby, Citizen Crow has the power of a superhero in his soul and it is obvious that he’ll be looking for a win to cement his place back in the SWF roster.”

“Ha!” is Bobby’s response, “I’ll believe it when I see it!”

The ref’s address has been completed and he calls for the bell.

*DING! DING! DING!*

“Here we gooooooooooooo, fans!! This is going to be an exciting match to say the very least! A true clash of rookie versus experience... who will prevail in this battle of honour, valour and justice~?!” exclaims Comet.

“I really don’t care... but I’ll say Edward James... he has to get up this time. If not, I will have to tutor him.”

Crow and Edward circle in the ring as the crowd starts stomping their feet in anticipation of the first lunge... and it's a simultaneous lunge, both men locking up! But almost immediately the rookie shoves Crow backwards, sending him rolling back and falling into the ropes.

“There is his advantage over the Antichrist Superstar right there, his superior strength,” states Bobby.

Comet continues the commentary, “That is true, but Crow does hold numerous victories over Va’aiga and Janus, two of the strongest men in the SWF.”

The Gothic Warrior smirks as he uses the ropes to stand up, then lunges forward at James again, but he is prepared and takes Crow over in side headlock. He cinches down on the headlock, but the Gothic Avian pulls backwards into the ropes and pushes off the headlock. Eddie runs across the ring and into the ropes. Coming off, he throws his arm out for a clothesline, Crow however, utilises his quickness by ducking under and swinging round, applying a waistlock. Realising he's unable to take advantage of the move due to lack of strength, the Antichristian drops down to the floor and pulls Edward's legs out from under him. Face first is Eddie’s connection, and jumping on top of his back is Crow, spinning around on his body before jumping off and beckoning him to stand again.

Cyclone Comet reports, "And we’re dipping into amateur wrestling here, with Crow using his skills to intimidate James. That right there is a move which plainly says ‘I can take you down when I want, I can ride you for as long as I want and it's I, who decides whether or not to let you up.’"

"I like the sound of that move, Comet!" Bobby adds, a little -too- eagerly.

Edward James stands up miffed over Crow's actions, and they lock up again, but this time, the bird goes round into a hammerlock. Eddie isn't going to be stuck in this situation for long and drops to his knees, grabbing behind his head and snapmaring Crow over! The Gothic Avian quickly kips up and turns towards James, but only to be bullied back into the turnbuckle. Following up, he unloads a stiff right hand! The blow sends Crow reeling, and not stopping; the Vicious Lion grabs an arm and whips his opponent to the corner. Looking to crush the bird, he charges straight after the whip. However, the Antichrist Superstar regains his footing whilst running across the ring and jumps up onto the top rope. Bunching his legs, the Gothic Warrior moonsaults off, sailing over Edward’s head, and lands on his feet. The Lion wasn't expecting that, thusly he runs straight into the turnbuckle and stumbles back out. Crow, always the opportunist, manoeuvres around his opponent and jumps up on to the top rope, bunches his legs and springboards off again! This time though, he corkscrews his body and takes James down to the canvas with a plancha!

“Fantastic flying skills! Crow showing that he can move just like me with that beautiful plancha!”

Crow stays on top for the cover.

ONE!

NOOOOOOOO!

The rookie powers out of the move, throwing Crow off his body! He quickly stands up and Crow, looking to hit a devastating roundhouse kick, fires his leg forward... but to his dismay, it's been caught! The Lion throws the leg up, and using the momentum, the Gothic Avian performs a backflip in the air and lands on his feet. Before he regains his footing however, he is smacked down to the canvas, as the lion has been unleashed!

"Good god! That was a BRUTAL clothesline! How many times did Crow flip there?" Bobby shouts.

Comet clutches at his head, "A massive amount... I feel dizzy."

The Antichrist Superstar’s landing is rough! Quickly following up, James drops down and hooks a leg.

ONE!

TWO!

NOOOOOOOOO!

Crow kicks out!

Edward James wastes no time in picking the Gothic Avian back up and bullying him around with a number of vicious punches!

Left straight!

Right hook!

Left hook!

Right straight!

RIGHT UPPERCUT!

Crow goes flying into the turnbuckle where the young rookie continues to unleash a blistering barrage of punches! Plenty to the face, to the body and to the back! The Antichrist Superstar falls onto the canvas, clutching at his stomach – the receiver of many hard rights. Edward will have none of that however, and powers his opponent back up. Have a few kicks for added insult as well, Markus. He then whips Crow across the ring and watches the connection. The bird is slumped back first in the turnbuckle, slightly dazed, and seeing this, the Lion rushes across the ring. With arm out in preparation for a clothesline, James is determined. This determination is suddenly destroyed as Crow manages to get the legs up for a front dropkick that sends James stumbling into the center of the ring. Moving with haste, the Gothic Warrior jumps onto the top rope and hops off, hoping to plant Edward with a dropkick. This isn’t what occurs as James was well aware of the Antichrist Superstar’s intentions and moved out the way at the last minute.

“A surprising glimpse of speed right there from Citizen Eddie J, managed to elude our flying hero!” shouts Comet at the top of his lungs.

Bobby continues, “And now, he’s looking to kick some ass!”

Bobby Riley is not lying. The Vicious Lion brutally lifts Crow up by the hair and throws his across the ring and into the ropes. Grabbing a hold of an arm, Edward sends the bird running into the ropes. Coming off the ropes, Crow is met with a huge kick to the stomach! He’s doubled over and clutching his stomach as the Lion runs off the ropes to his right and nails an uplifting kick that sends Crow upright. Continuing his momentum, Edward backs up into the ropes behind and charges at Crow with arm extended!

NO!

The avian ducks the clothesline and lets his opponent run into the ropes again. Edward comes running off and is taken to the mat with a drop toe hold. Crow quickly goes to work by jumping up into the air and nailing a big leg drop! Hulk Hogan style~! Following this up, he rolls backwards, jumps up onto the second rope and jumps into the air!

A TWO-HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-DEGREE FLIP!

“Springboard Somersault Senton!” shouts Comet, “Haven’t seen that for a while, Bobby! I’ve surely missed the presence of Crow and his superhero abilities.”

“...you’re acting like it connected, Comet...” mockingly whispers Riley.

Comet realises that at the very last second Edward James managed to sneak out of the predicament. Now both men are up and circling each other. The Lion places his arms out and asks Crow if he would like to take up the challenge of a test of strength. The Antichrist Superstar is not one to back down from any challenge, even if it’s an impossible one and so, he tentatively places his hands out.

“Looks like Edward is trying to turn the intimidation scales back on Crow,” says Bobby.

Comet shakes his head as he says, “Trying is the key word, oh citizen Riley, you can’t intimidate a superhero!”

“Oh really?” asks Bobby with a mischievous tone, “SOCK PUPPETS!”

“Where!?” screams Comet as he jumps up onto the desk prepared for battle!

The fingers are wriggling and finally the hands clamp on become one! It has begun! Edward James, with his superior strength, has the advantage... but Crow isn’t going to go down without and fight and pushes back – creating a surge of cheers in the crowd! The Antichrist Superstar can’t hold on forever though and is forced closer and closer to the canvas until finally he rests against it. Referee Hall notices the shoulders on the ground and begins a count...

ONE!

NO!

Crow gets the shoulder up, but it’s immediately pushed back against the canvas by James’ strength!

ONE!

TWO!

NO!

Crow gets it up again, but this time he is dead set on not allowing his shoulder to be pinned again... the strength of his opponent is becoming too much. So, the bird manoeuvres his legs up and pushes them against Edward’s stomach and because of his opponent’s unwillingness to relinquish the test of strength clamp, Crow is elevated into the air and manages to regain his footing. Still holding onto James’ hands, Crow moves backwards into the ropes and places his foot on the bottom rope. Scaling up to the top, the Antichrist Superstar wraps his legs around the neck of Edward James’ and swings around the body with a dazzling flying headscissors takedown!

“Oh! Superb move from Citizen Markus, showcasing once again his fabulous flying skills! Also note the smart play fo Crow’s wrestling, right there he utilised his opponent’s ‘rookieness’ to escape the pinning predicament he was in. You have to know when to let go of your dominance because it JUSTICE might come back and bite you!” intelligently comments Cyclone Comet.

“As a matter of fact, I did note that Comet. It was smart play, but you cannot help but be impressed by Edward James’ fire and determination.”

The momentum sends James rolling up onto his feet and leaning against the ropes whilst Crow simply jumps to his feet. Standing in one spot just isn’t Crow’s style, so he charges at his dazed opponent and takes him to the outside with a jumping clothesline. They hit the thinly-padded floor with a big thud but it doesn’t take long for the Antichrist Superstar to get back to his feet. He picks James up and grabs onto an arm, whipping him and sending him straight into the unforgiving steel guardrail

CRASH!

James goes toppling over the guardrail and into the crowd! Cheers erupt for the interaction with the fans and continue to erupt as the Gothic Warrior cracks his neck and plays to the crowd with a crucifix pose before walking over to his hurt opponent. Crow steps over the guardrail and grabs his opponent from side on, pulling him closer to the guardrail and hooking the leg...

...

AND HE FALLS BACK!

“Russian leg sweep against the guardrail! Very reminiscent of the infamous Raven, a tribute maybe? Unfortunately this superhero’s mind reading abilities have been lessened as of late so I guess we’ll never know! Anyway, Citizen Eddie is down!” shouts the energetic Comet.

Riley shakes his head, but continues to do his job, “Crow knows how to dish out the pain, but I have a feeling, Comet, I have a feeling that James has a lot left in him.”

The Gothic Warrior jumps up in the air and pumps his fist to a roaring crowd reaction!

“He’s feeling it, Bobby!’

The adrenaline is rushing through Crow’s body as he rushes through the aisle to get a run up for a move of some kind. He turns around and starts to run at a pace we’ve never seen of the Antichristian Phenomenon. Edward James is dazed, but is ready enough to open his eyes wide enough to see a charging opponent and out of pure instinct (and hopefully that three years of training) he stands up, catches the flying bird and TTHHHRRROOOWWWWWSSSS him over with an overhead suplex! Crow is literally flying the air and......

SNAP!

CRACKLE!

AND FUCKING POP!

.....he lands HARD on his back on the floor!

“HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!”

“I told you, Comet! I told you!” mocks Bobby, “James is back in it now after that devastating overhead belly to belly suplex! Simply amazing! How far did he throw him? Fifteen feet!? Damn!”

“So it was you that stole my premonition vitamins. You vile fiend! You shall be punished for your ill-doing!” shouts Comet, standing up. “After I comment on Citizen James’ amazing strength however.”

The Gothic Warrior writhes on the floor, clutching at his weak back while Edward shakes the cobwebs out of his head. Then it hits him, he has a big advantage over an experienced wrestler and this is his chance to take it to the next level. Edward steps back into the designated outside area and stalks Crow as he tries to crawl away. Brutally forcing his up by the hair, James’ throws Crow back into the ring and rolls in. A hook of the leg.

ONE!

TWO!

NOOOOOOOOO!

The crowd cheers for the kick out - obviously there are more Crow supporters in the audience than supporters for the rookie. This doesn’t bother James’ though as such things come with time in the ring, he’s purely focussed on winning. He picks Crow up and starts unloading some devastating offence. A knee to the stomach knocks the wind out of the bird and another sends him flying back clutching stomach. Now, Crow’s back is exposed and taking the opportunity, James clenches his fists, lifts them into the air and brings them down HARD on Crow’s back! The Gothic Warrior cries out in pain and turns to face James’, thinking that the rookie will be distracted and not have the experience to continue working the back. But much to his dismay, the rookie is learning from watching Tom Flesher matches as he continues to bully Crow around and lay into his back. Ooooooh! A kidney punch is thrown and Crow stumbles over. Continuing his assault, the Vicious Lion lifts Crow up...

...and drops his back first across his knee! That is not a natural angle right there! The Antichristian Phenomenon yelps on connection and showing a very mean streak, James lifts Crow up again... and drops his across the knee another time! And another time!

AND ANOTHER TIME! He’s now torturing his opponent’s body across his knee by pushing down on the face and legs! Referee Hall is right up on it and in Crow’s face asking that goddamn.

“You wanna give it up, Crow? Wanna give it up!?”

The resounding response is a big “FUCK NO!” that gets quite a cheer from the crowd, but a hiss from Bobby Riley, “How dare he use language like that on PPV? There are kids watching this.”

“Currently, I think that’s the least of his worries, Robert,” states Comet, “Citizen Crow is in deep trouble and is losing this battle of valour... something I thought I’d never see.”

“Just shows he’s not a superhero.”

“Does not.”

“Does so.”

“Quiet, Robert!”

The Antichrist Superstar is struggling to keep himself alive right now, the pain in his back is getting near that point where it becomes all too much. Noticing this, James’ pushes down even harder... and resulting... Crow’s eyelids start to fall.

“Look out, Comet! Crow is going under!”

...

And it’s lights out for the bird! The Lion keeps the pressure on the body and makes the referee do the three lifts bit, to see if it’s all over.

Referee Anthony Michael Hall lifts the arm in the air.

ONE!

He lifts it again.

TWO!

He lifts it for third and final time.

...

..

.

You didn’t think that was the end, did ya?

THE ARM COMES UP JUST BEFORE SLAPPING THE CANVAS! There is life back in the Gothic Warrior and he’s not going to go down that easily! Mustering up all the strength in his body, Crow begins to punch at the head of Edward James! The first one rocks the man slightly, but the next punch has more behind it and puts him off a bit more! Then the third one comes... but this time, the nails are out and are ready to scratch something to living hell!

...

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHH!!!” is the overwhelming response of the crowd as the camera on the Smarktron shows the Antichrist Superstar DIGGING, LITERALLY DIGGING INTO THE FACE OF THE LION! Blood starts spurting immediately out of the cuts that are being carved into James’ face. Hastily, the referee jumps in and breaks up the submission and the gouging... exactly what Crow wanted. As soon as the predicament has been broken up, Edward James clutches at his face in agony, but still remains in the same position... kneeling on one knee. The opportunist that is the bird knows exactly how to take advantage of this situation and this is by getting a run up, jumping onto James’ knee...

AND SWINGING HIS LEG AROUND - NAILING DAS SHINING WUNDER KICK!

Both men now lie motionless on the ground, trying to regain their breath and wits after the moves that have just been dished... the devastating Das Wunder Kick done in a Shining Wizard way and the Pendulum Backbreaker submission. The crowd begins to clap their hands together in an attempt to gee up the two superstars in the ring as the referee starts the ten count.

ONE!

No movement.

TWO!

Still no movement.

THREE!

...

FOUR!

There’s movement.

FIVE!

They’re stirring.

SIX!

They’re using the ropes to help themselves get up.

SEVEN!

So hard to get up...

EIGHT!

Almost there...

NINE!

And they’re up!

NOOOOOO!

“The Antichrist Superstar” Crow and “Lionheart” Edward James.

...

Their eyes meet each other from across the sides of the ring.

...

They move forward...

Step.

By.

Step.

...towards each other...

...to meet in the center of the ring.

...

IT’S WAR!

A BATTLE OF FISTS ENSUES!

Left from Crow! Right from Edwards! Right from Crow! Left from Edwards! NO! Crow ducks and spins around to waistlock, but wait, James executes a standing switch and applies a waistlock of his own! Mustering all his quickness and strength, he throws Crow overhead in a german suplex...

...noooooo! The Gothic Warrior flips out and lands right on his feet! He quickly applies another waistlock, pushes Lionheart forward into the ropes and rolls backward for a rolling pin attempt. Unfortunately the person he meant to pin isn’t there, he’s held onto the ropes! Crow jumps back up to continue fighting but then sees a monster charging at him and so, he drops down – trying to trip James – but that’s not to be as James steps over and runs into the ropes. He comes off again and charges with shoulder ready for a spear...

NO! CROW LEAP FROGS and avoids almost certain death! Crow stands up hastily and jumps up horizontally with legs extended, hoping to catch James with a dropkick as he came off the ropes, but of course, this was not to be as James managed to grab hold of the ropes and stop himself. Lionheart then takes a couple steps forward and jumps in the air, looking for a elbow drop... but no! Crow moves out the way, hops back up, runs and jumps up onto the second rope. The leg bunch and he springs off, back-flipping two-hundred and seventy degrees in the air...

...

AND LANDING ON THE HUNCHED KNEES OF EDWARD JAMES!

"The somersault senton misses again, Robert!"

"Come on, he's never going to hit that!" Riley smirks.

The Gothic Avian rolls away from his opponent, clutching his back and flopping on the mat with a grimace. Edward rolls away as well, straightening his legs and beginning to clamber to his feet. But like a true hero, the Antichrist Superstar is also working his way back up to his feet. Not only that, he begins charging at his opponent! James smiles and lowers himself, setting up for a spinebuster...

...but Crow has other ideas, flipping over his opponent! Rather than catching him for a sunset flip, the Antichrist Superstar hits the ropes and plants his feet on them. As he begins to spring back for a springboard moonsault, he feels the arms of the Vicious Lion encircling his waist. Using the Avian's springboard for extra power, he flings his opponent over his head with a massive german suplex! However luck is with the Gothic Warrior, and he lands on his feet and waits. James, predictably, turns around to look for his enemy.

*KA-FUCKING-OUCHIE-RACK!*

"DAAAAAAAS WUNDER KICK!" Comet shills! "Citizen Crow hits his signature roundhouse kick, and this match is firmly in his favour!"

"That makes me want to hold my head, Comet" Riley whines.

James looks like he has stars in his eyes as he wavers on his feet. Cinching in a front facelock, Crow pulls the Lion back with him, and begins to sit on the turnbuckle. As he throws himself off with an attempt at the Murderous DDT however, James responds instinctively by grabbing his opponent's waist and planting him with the spinebuster he'd missed earlier! He hooks a leg, shaking his head viciously.

ONE!

TWO!

NOOOOOO!

Bravely, Crow pulls an arm off the mat. But James will have none of it, shaking his head firmly to ward off the effects of the Das Wunder Kick. He tucks Crow's head into his crotch, then flips him up into the air and DRILLS him down with a huge and nasty looking painful POWERBOMB! And once more, James hooks the leg!

ONE!

TWO!

THHRRREEENOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

“Edward James is in control of this match up despite getting kicked in the head, and is absolutely destroying Crow right now! I don’t like both guys, but this is very exciting!” exclaims Bobby... a little girlishly.

Cyclone Comet is also very excited and you can tell this by his jumping up and down in his chair, “You’re right, Robert! Lionheart is showing us that he is full of pride and is embracing the power within!”

Crow is down and out after that very near pinfall! But Edward is very much alive and kicking as he claps his hands together in an attempt to get the pro-Crow crowd behind him and... it’s working! The crowd is clapping and cheering along! The smile across James’ face widens and jumps excitedly before bending over to wrench up the Antichrist Superstar. Much to the delight of the crowd, Lionheart takes his thumb and slowly motions it across his neck... telling everyone in the arena that it’s time for the end! He reaches inbetween Crow’s legs and lifts him up onto his shoulders... right ready for the DEATH

VALLEY

DRIVER!

!!!!

“Oh dear, Robert!” cries Comet, “Citizen James isn’t going to do what I think he’s going to do! That will finish Crow and put an end to this match!”

“Ahahaha, yes! Go son! You’re learning! Hey, wait... no, what are you doing!?” harks Bobby Riley.

Much to Bobby’s dismay, James feels that the Death Valley Driver just isn’t enough and that he needs to... elevate... the move somehow. He looks towards the turnbuckle and starts his way over there... and now, he’s slowly and carefully ascending to the top rope!

“My goodness! James is a real badbutt! He’s going to severely deplete Crow’s superhero powers isn’t he!?” anxiously asks Comet.

Riley nods, “For some reason, yes, but I think it’s completely unnecessary as the standard DVD would have had Crow finished. Now he has a little more time to recover and you never know what could happened... it just shows that James is still a little green, but it does look like he’s got it under control. His grip on Crow is tight and I don’t think he’s gonna loosen it anytime soon.”

AND WE’RE AT THE TOP!

EDWARD JAMES HAS CROW PERCHED ON HIS SHOULDERS!

HE LOOKS AROUND AT THE CROWD AND PUMPS HIS LEFT ARM INTO THE AIR TO A MASSIVE CROWD REACTION!

.

..

...

..

.

NNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! CROW SWINGS HIS LEGS AROUND JAMES BODY AND APPLIES A FRONT FACE LOCK!

CROW PULLS BACK AND FALLS...

...

All.

The.

Way.

Down!

!!!!!!!!!!!

...DRIVING EDWARD JAMES’ HEAD INTO THE CANVAS WITH A DEVASTATING DDT!!!!

“HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!”

“OH MY GOODNESS! Crow just KILLED Edward James! That was murderous! MURDEROUS, Comet!” yells Bobby at the top of his lungs.

Cyclone Comet jumps up onto the commentary table and begins to do the SUPERHERO HAPPY DANCE! “Oh yes, the goodness of heavens is shining down on me today! Fight the power! Fight for justice! Oooooooowwwwww!”

Edward James is unmoving on the canvas.

Crow, on the other hand, is ALIVE! ...albeit clutching at his back, which just got destroyed in that free fall to the mat. Slowly, he summons the strength to move his sore body and hook the leg of his fallen opponent. Referee Anthony Michael Hall drops to the mat and starts the count.

ONE!

TWO!

...

TTTTTHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!

“YYYYYYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!” the crowd cheers and cheers!

Cyclone Comet stands up and claps whilst saying, “And Crow, the superhero superstar, has achieved his first victory since returning to the SWF just a couple shows ago! But one cannot dismiss Edward James, who put up an exceptional fight and took an experienced wrestler like Crow to the edge.”

“Are you kidding?” retorts Bobby Riley, “He had that match! He HAD it! But no, the emotion, the adrenaline and the crowd got to him... his soul took over and that’s what cost him the match. Have a look at this replay here. You see how tight Edward’s grip on Crow was for that DVD... he had no chance of swinging out. But once James let go and played to the fans with a fist pump, he got that chance and being the opportunist he is, he took it! A single green, rookie error cost him the match... he needs to clean up his style.”

“Whilst they may be true, he did put an exceptional fight for the fans and everyone in the back. Bravo to both of them. And now, we go backstage.”

Medical teams come rushing in to treat Edward James whilst Crow gets helped out of the ring by a security guard. Wait! He forgot his cigarettes! SOMEONE FIND THIS MAN’S CIGARETTES!

And...

Fade out.

the.weej · April 26, 2004

“What we are about to see is the culmination of six months of history.” Cyclone Comet’s voice rings out as he begins to set the tone for the next match. “We have seen some brutal feuds throughout the history of the SWF and the SJL, and this is one that is right up there near the top. If you have small children, it is my duty as a purveyor of justice to warn you of the possible graphic nature of what we are about to see.”

“Oh would you shut up!” Bobby Riley suddenly interrupts, “You are just wasting time. I want to see Landon Maddix tear Alan Clark apart…and I want to see it now!”

“But, Robert, we don’t know who the winner is.”

“It’s Landon Maddix. He always makes Alan Clark look like the piece of trash he is!”

“You don’t know that for sure. We’ve heard words from Citizen Clark that seem to suggest that he may just walk out of Battleground as the victor.”

“Well he’s always been full of talk! And he’s always wrong too!”

“Are you forgetting From The—“

“I’m not forgetting anything, you super fool. Now let’s just get to the match!”

“Well, okay then. Ladies and Gentlemen…the following match took place last night in this very arena. It was filmed and nobody has seen the tape or knows what happened in here except those that were involved – Alan Clark, Landon Maddix, Referee Anthony Michael Hall, and a single cameraman. Everyone else has been kept in the dark until now.”

“Just play it!”

“You heard the man…here we go.”

The voices of the announcers trail off, leaving everything in near silence as the University Arena drops into darkness and the SmarkTron comes to life, and the match is on…

…but where’s Landon Maddix?

Alan Clark stands alone in the middle of the empty arena. Well, almost alone. Referee Hall stands next to him, and the cameraman is keeping watch from the ring apron. Alan looks toward the half set-up entranceway, where the SmarkTron sits, vacant, and only a few of the various pieces of décor are placed in position.

Hall can only shrug as Clark looks over at him, and soon he is pacing, keeping his eyes peeled for Landon Maddix. Alan knows he must be somewhere in the arena. Finally, Alan can take no more, and climbs up in a corner and begins screaming toward the entranceway.

“COME ON LANDON! I’M SURROUNDED BY ALL YOUR FANS! THEY ARE CHEERING AND CHANTING FOR YOU! YOU CAN’T SURPRISE ANYONE HERE! I CAN SEE THIS ENTIRE ARENA! SO COME ON! LET’S GET THIS OVER WITH!”

Alan continues to scream, and finally he hears a reply.

“I’M RIGHT HERE, MORON!”

The yell comes from the seats on the other side of the ring, and as Alan turns he sees Landon sitting in a chair, his feet propped up on the one in front of him. Alan hops down and goes to the ropes, but does not exit the ring. Instead, he simply waves Landon to come in. Maddix does not seem too thrilled with that idea, but stands up anyway. In both their minds, they know the time has come.

“MEET ME HALFWAY!” Landon screams once more, the call producing a small smile from Clark as he rolls out of the ring and heads toward the barricade. As Alan hops over into the seats, Maddix rushes in, but Alan is ready before he can get there, and Landon throws on the brakes only a few feet before running head on into his opponent. The two stand there for a moment, neither making any sort of move forward or backward. Their eyes are locked and Alan can be seen smiling once more, but the same can not be said for Maddix, whose face is cold as ice.

Alan finally takes a step forward, causing Landon to take a step back, keeping the distance the same. Alan takes two more steps, and Landon again backs up…but only once. Maddix turns his body to run, causing Clark to lunge forward…

SMACK~!

And right into a boot as Landon fires off a superkick! The force of the blow sends Alan stumbling backwards and into the barricade. Landon tries to capitalize, rushing in and looking for a big splash against the railing, but Clark regains his senses just in time to duck out of the way! Maddix can not stop himself, however, and his momentum causes him to hit the steel and violently crash to the floor on the ring side of the barricade. Referee Hall has made his way out of the ring, and is keeping watch as Clark hops over the railing and lands near his recovering opponent. Alan is quick to pull Landon to his feet and roll him into the ring, following closely behind him and getting to his feet before Maddix can get any recovery time.

As Maddix reaches the center of the ring he is caught from behind and quickly spun around into an irish whip. Alan lies in wait as Maddix comes off the ropes but as he fires off the clothesline the Disciple is able to duck out of the way, springing to the other side of the ring and coming back off the ropes trying for a clothesline of his own. As Landon flies through the air, Alan ducks down as well, leaving Landon to fly overhead and crash onto his knees on the canvas. As the two get back to their feet they turn around and step right into each other’s gaze.

If Riley or Comet were ringside, both would more than likely be yelling and screaming about exactly how much is on the line in the match. The crowd would be pumped - chanting, screaming, and trying to get their voices heard, as the two men stand nearly toe-to-toe once more. But this time is different, the silence between the two men replaced by small conversation.

“What’s up?” Alan’s sarcastic comment does not seem to go over well with Landon, who seems to have to restrain himself from slapping himself and Clark both in the face for the greeting.

“I can’t believe you, Clark. You have the gall to come out and say that I need respect? You think you are such a big guy? You are nothing.”

“Nothing? Well at least people refer to me by my name, Mr. Disciple” Alan’s words cause Maddix to take a step in closer, now putting the men nose to nose.

“How dare you insult me like that!”

“How would you like me to insult you?” Alan’s sarcastic tone comes out once more, and this time it sets Maddix off like a bottle rocket, as he shoves Alan away with all the force he has. Alan regains his footing near the ropes and looks down toward the canvas, simply shaking his head.

“WHAT?” Landon yells over, and Alan soon answers … bursting in and tackling Maddix down to the canvas before unloading with hard punches straight into the Disciple’s face. Landon tries to get his hands up to block, but Alan seems lost in another world, his fists relentless in their assault.

Referee Hall tries to pull the two apart, but Alan simply pushes him away, but the punches have stopped and Clark gets to his feet, dragging Landon up with him. Alan takes a few steps toward the corner, looking for an irish whip, but Maddix reverses…

…but Alan reserves again!

The affect of the spin puts so much force into the whip that Landon’s chest nearly caves in on the impact of the crash between himself and the turnbuckles. Alan does not waste any time with a follow-up attack, as he lifts Landon up and sets him up on the top turnbuckle, facing the invisible audience. With Landon in position, his body is pulled back by Clark, and soon he is stuck hanging upside down in the corner, body rushing to his head. Stuck in the Tree of Woe, Maddix can do nothing as Alan takes his time walking to the other side of the ring, talking with each step.

“Landon, what in Todd’s name am I going to do next? Hmmm? What do you think?”

“GET ME DOWN, NOW!’ Landon retorts, but Alan simply shakes his head as he rushes back into the corner, sliding down and bringing his feet into Maddix’s face as though he is sliding into home plate.

Alan rolls and gets back to his feet as Landon’s feet finally untangle themselves, causing him to drop down onto his chest on the mat. Maddix rolls to the apron and uses the ropes as a makeshift ladder, but as he gets back up he is met quickly by Clark. Alan locks his arm around Landon’s head, hooking in a facelock. Alan tries for a suplex over and into the ring, but Maddix drops his weight down into his feet, causing the hold to be released and Maddix to drop down onto the floor.

With Maddix on the outside, Alan tries to take advantage by reaching over the top. However, he soon finds himself flat on his back as Landon grabs him by the ankle and pulls backwards, tripping Clark up and dropping him down onto the canvas. Landon sees his chance and slides back into the ring, pulling Clark up and going for a whip into the ropes, only for Clark to reverse it, giving Landon an extra boost of speed into his bounce off the ropes. As Landon comes back he looks for a cross body splash…

…but he’s caught!!

THUD!

Alan catches Landon in mid-air, and with one fluid motion Maddix’s back is driven down across Clark’s knee, putting him down in the center of the ring. Alan stands back up, and the referee drops for a pin, but Alan simply backs away. Referee Hall checks with Clark, but Alan simply shakes his head, giving Landon time to get back to his feet.

“He’s still awake” Alan smugly says to Hall, the comment causing the referee’s eyes to widen a bit, but nonetheless he gets back to his feet, returning to a neutral position as Maddix finally gets to knees.

Alan forcefully helps Maddix back up his feet, grabbing him by the hair and throwing him into the ropes. Alan looks for a clothesline as Landon comes back into the center of the ring, but Maddix ducks not a moment too soon, hitting the mat on his knees and sliding towards the ropes, rolling down onto his side and out of the ring to the floor.

Alan turns and looks for a baseball slide to the outside, but Maddix moves just in time, and as Clark hits the floor he is greeted by a few quick punches to the face, following by a hard European uppercut. Alan staggers back a bit, and Landon is quick to hook Clark’s wrist, pulling him in and then whipping him back out, sending Alan back first into the steps…

CLANG!

The sound of Alan’s back hitting the steel echoes through the empty arena, causing even Landon to pause for a moment as the reverberations slowly fade away. But soon he is back on the attack, throwing more punches into Clark’s forehead, exacting revenge for the early moments in the match. Alan fights back, pushing himself up to his feet and trying to return a few of the shots, but Landon blocks them all and sends a kick into Alan’s stomach, and as Clark doubles over he is caught in Maddix’s grasp and dropped straight into the floor with a DDT!

The padding has yet to be laid down on the outside, and as Clark rolls over onto his back, the camera sees blood trickling down Alan’s forehead, but the image is soon covered as Maddix drops down and goes for a quick pin. Hall is ready on the outside with the count…

ONE!

TWO!

KICKOUT!

Alan kicks out from the DDT and tries to get to his feet, as Landon gets up and heads around the corner of the ring, reaching over the barricade. As Alan finally gets up, he turns to see where Landon has run off to…

WHIFF~!

Maddix tries to attack with a chair, but Alan ducks underneath it just in time. Landon tries to pull the chair back for another try, but Alan gets his hands on it, and the two engage in a bit of tug of war over the weaponry. With a final hard tug, Alan manages to pull the chair away, causing Landon to instinctively back away, knowing full well what the consequences of the situation are. Alan, on the other hand, seems to have differing ideas, as he tosses the chair over the barricade and back into the seats, causing another loud clang as the steel crashes into the concrete floor and slides to a stop.

“How dare you, Landon. You can’t beat me without using weapons? Are you going to start diving off of high places too?” Alan begins to bring up the history, and Landon simply shakes his head. “What is your problem? Aren’t you the one that said that weapons don’t win matches? People win matches, Landon! I didn’t beat your precious Todd because of a limousine, or a truck, or a baseball bat, or anything else. I beat him because I was the better man!” The comments cause Landon to take a step forward, but Alan answers with a step forward of his own. The look in Clark’s eyes stops Landon cold, and he begins to back up, putting his hands up to defend himself.

“You need to calm down, Clark!” Landon yells as he continues to back up, but a misstep over the ring stairs causes Maddix to fall backwards, his body hitting the floor hard. Alan simply takes a deep breathe as he walks over the steps, his body standing tall over the downed Maddix.

“When are you going to learn!” Clark yells down as he swings his right foot into Landon’s ribs, causing him to back up a bit and out of the predicament he has found himself in. Alan takes another step and drops to his knees, once again attacking Landon with punches.

“There going to know you now, Maddix! They’ll see your face and say that you are the guy that needed plastic surgery after a wrestling match! You’re going to be the guy that’s going to need to open his eyes to breath!!” Alan’s eyes seem to glow with insanity as Hall watches on from a few feet away, not wanting to get in to close to the maniac as he continues to beat apart Landon.

“Come on, get off him!” Hall finally says, the comment getting a harsh look from Alan, but he obliges, pulling Maddix up to his feet and making sure to show off the blood on Landon’s face to the camera.

“See that world? Here’s your Disciple!” Alan screams into the lens before locking in a facelock. Clark places Maddix into position for a suplex, but Maddix goes deadweight, dropping to his knees in front of Clark and bringing his right arm up…

CHING~

Alan drops forward, holding his crotch as he falls face-first onto the floor, giving Maddix a chance to roll away from his opponent and disappear under the ring apron. Referee Hall looks on as Maddix disappears from sight and Alan recuperates from the blatant Galatea Special, but within a few moments and after a couple long deep breathes, Alan is back up to his feet and finds Maddix missing.

“Where is he!?” Alan yells over at Hall, who simply points toward the apron before turning his head, not even wanting to see what will happen next. Alan moves toward the apron and throws it into the air. “Come out, come out…” Alan chuckles a bit as he puts his head down into the darkness under the ring…

FWOOOOOOOOOOSH~!

Alan’s body flails backwards and against the barricade as a fire extinguisher explodes in his face. Landon rolls out from underneath the ring moments later, carrying the emptied extinguisher with him as he gets to his feet. With Alan blinded, Maddix makes his move, holding the canister above his head and moving in on Clark before bringing it down right across his head.

THUD~

Alan drops down to his knees, only his right arm holding his body up on the railing. Landon tosses the extinguisher away and goes back under the ring, retrieving another steel chair. Maddix slaps the chair off the ground once, listening to the echo before swinging it through the air…

CRAAACK~!

…and catching Alan’s forehead, the sound firing off like a bullet through the arena. Clark drops to the mat limply, and Landon tosses the chair down as he goes for a cover.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!!

NOOO!!!

Alan Clark’s shoulder gets off the mat just before the three, and nobody in the arena can believe it (not that the feat is incredibly hard to complete in the first place). Maddix sits up stunned, and he looks down into Alan’s face, which is growing more and more bloody with each passing moment. Alan rolls onto his stomach, trying to get back to his feet as Landon stands, looking around for what to do next.

Landon decides to help Clark out, pulling him up and getting him vertical before throwing him into the barricade with a hard whip, the force sends Alan tumbling over and into the seats with a loud thud. Hall hops over the railing as Alan crawls deeper into the ‘crowd’, finally getting himself standing near the fourth row. As he turns to look for Maddix, he is nearly decapitated as Landon springs off the railing and soars through the air, connecting with a vicious clothesline that puts Alan back down on the concrete. Landon is quick to go for another cover…

ONE!

TWO!

THREENOOOO!!

Alan kicks out before the three, and Maddix only seems a little fazed by his opponent’s tenacity, but he leaves Clark behind as he makes his way back toward the ring side area, his eyes trained on pulling the railing out of it’s position. Landon begins to jerk and drag the railing into the seats, working hard to separate it from the rest of the pack. Just as he finally gets it moving across the cement floor…

WHAM~!

…Landon is drilled into the steel gut-first with a spear from Clark, and both men crash into the floor, with Landon’s body bouncing hard off the railing. Alan takes a shot from the steel as well, but after a moment of both men down, he is the first one to make any kind of move to get to his feet. As he does, he looks down at the recovering Maddix, and the camera catches a smile on his face. Maddix is soon up to his feet, by way of a little help from Clark, and Alan holds him by the head, leaning his hand back slowly as if wanting to savor the feel of his fist denting Landon’s face.

As Alan throws the punch, Maddix ducks out of the way, the speed of the missing punch throws Alan off balance, and he turns three hundred sixty degrees into a front facelock. Landon tries for a suplex, but Alan is not completely out of it, and instead Maddix soon finds himself up on Clark’s shoulder, ready to be driven down into the floor with a Northern Lights Suplex. Referee Hall tries to maintain some order, but Alan can only smile as he rotates his body backwards…

THUD~!

If there was a crowd in the University Arena at the present moment, they would all be booing like crazy, as Maddix grips his arm around Clark’s head, causing Alan to be dropped into the floor with a DDT. Landon also takes a good bit of punishment from the suplex himself, but both men are now down on the concrete once more. Referee Hall can only watch on as the two work their way back to their feet, which is slower than normal, but the expressions on their face show their souls, with Landon looking toward Alan, showing some fear in his eyes that Clark just will not stay down. Alan on the other hand, seems to only be growing more and more angry with each passing second, as his eyes seem to burn through the empty arena.

“Stay Down, Todd Damn You!” Landon yells as he gets to his feet, moving in and connecting with a hard kick to Alan’s ribs, causing him to roll onto his back once more. He is quickly pulled back up by Maddix, however, as Landon looks around to see what he can do next. Finally spotting something, Alan is scooped up, heels over head, before being slammed down into the downed barricade. With Alan down, Landon begins to pull on the railing, moving it closer and closer to the ring. This takes a bit more time than Maddix seemed to first expect, as his face shows contempt for the padding underneath him. Alan stays down across the railing, as every time he begins to move his forehead is met by another stiff kick, putting him back down.

When Landon finally seems to have Alan in the position he wants him, he climbs up onto the apron and moves to the far corner. Alan tries to move, but ominous words from Maddix ring out…

“You will stay down!”

THUD~!

Landon runs and dives off the apron, putting his body at high-risk as he drops down across Alan and the railing with a huge elbow drop. Maddix seems pleased with his work as he rolls over and on top of Alan, screaming for Hall to count…

ONE!

TWO!!

THRENNOOOOOOO!!!

“You bastard!” Landon screams as he gets up, but the yelling is aimed at Hall now, as the referee gets off the floor a few feet away. “He kicked out late and I saw it! You can’t see anything from over here!” Landon gets in the referee’s face, pushing him back into the seats. “I’m a former champion! You can’t treat me this way!” Landon continues to rant and rave, causing Hall to move back farther and farther, trying to get away from the fuming Disciple.

Landon finally turns back toward Alan, who has gotten back to his feet and is making his way toward him. Maddix puts up his fists, the movement causing a small laugh from Alan, as he throws his right foot into the air and kicks down Landon’s fists. The motion seemed only to be a distraction, however, and as Alan finishes the kick he is spun back into place and given a kick of his own into his gut, doubling him over. Landon quickly hooks on a front facelock and checks behind him, where a row of chairs stretches out across the arena floor. With all the strength he can muster, Landon lifts Alan into up and into a vertical suplex…pausing for a second before falling back toward the floor, bracing himself for the impact and the …

CRASH~!

…as Alan’s body is sent down like a sack of bricks into the steel chairs, his back crashing against them and the sound echoing throughout the arena, startling the referee slightly as Landon rolls on top of Alan once more.

“COUNT!!” He yells at Hall, who is already in position…

ONE!

TWO!

THREEEEEEENOOOOOOO!!!

Landon is up to his feet in a flash, again miffed at being denied victory once more. Maddix does not take it out on Hall this time, and instead turns his verbal rage toward the recovering Clark.

“Come on, Clark! Get up! You talk a big game but look at you now! You can’t even stand up without my help anymore! YOU NEED ME, ALAN! Nobody cares about you unless you are standing eye to eye with the House of Todd! You want me to break out of shadow! How about if I crush you into yours!” Landon’s words come quick and harsh as Alan crawls up to his knees, but Maddix is prepared. As he hooks Alan’s arms behind his back, Landon gets himself poised to drop Clark in his own maneuver – the D’yer Mak’er…he goes to lift Alan into the air…

…REVERSED!!

THUD!!

Landon tries for the move, only for Alan to pull his shoulders up, lifting Maddix into the air and flipping him forwards…causing him to fall a full six feet to the concrete below, the sound of his body hitting the ground weak, but still painful nonetheless.

Alan once again does not go for a cover, but this time seems to be more out of pain than choice, as Clark falls forward onto his knees, his back still in pain from the earlier suplex and blood still dripping down his face and onto his chest. Clark wipes a bit of the blood away as he crawls away from the virtual car wreck of his opponent, concrete, and steel chairs, but he still can not get back up to his feet.

Referee Hall watches on at the bedlam before him, and is somewhat shocked that Landon gets to his feet before Clark is able to. Alan has instead made his way toward the ring on his hands and knees, able to stand up, but not going so far as to actually do so. Landon seems a little disoriented as he staggerss out into the aisle between the rows of chairs, heading back toward the break in the railing, where Alan has finally gotten to his feet.

Clark turns around, but is shoved backwards by a steam-rolling Disciple, as both men stumble over the over-turned railing. Alan is caught in the grasp of Maddix, and is quickly tossed under the ropes and back into the ring. Both men are up at near the same time, but as Hall slides into the ring, Alan is tripped up and dumped backwards, dropped onto his shoulders with a schoolboy roll-up.

ONE!

TWO!

THRENOOO!!!

Alan kicks out from the surprise pin attempt and rolls to his feet, but Landon is ready, throwing out another hard kick to his gut and immediately firing him over his head with a suplex. Landon quickly floats over for a pin, putting his feet up on the ropes to gain that extra bit of leverage. Hall can do nothing but count the bastardized pin…

ONE!

TWO!

THREEEEENOOOO!!

Alan again gets his shoulder up, and Landon seems a bit shocked to say the least. Alan slaps the mat repeatedly, but makes sure that a few of the times he catches Alan right across the throat. Alan grabs at his neck and rolls away from Maddix, but the Disciple is quick to keep on top of Clark, pulling him up and draping his upper body across the top rope. Landon may be beaten, but his speed is still there, as he rushes across the ring and back, leaping into the air and bringing his body down onto Alan’s back, putting all of his weight onto Clark, causing him to moan out before falling to the canvas once more. Landon again wastes little time, covering Alan once more…

ONEEEE!

TWOOOOO!

THREEEEEENOOOOOOO!!!

Another kickout from Clark, but this time Landon simply gets him back to his feet and immediately rolls behind him, going for another schoolboy, this time pulling the tights as he does…

ONEEEEE!

TWOOOOOO!!!

THREEEEEEEENOOOOOOO!!

Clark is again able to kick out, rolling backwards through the pin and pulling his pants back up to a respectable level, and this time Landon seems worried that Alan is up so quickly after the roll-up. Alan simply wags his finger at Maddix and the two go into a collar-and-elbow tie up, but Maddix reaches through and hooks Clark into a front facelock. Landon also grabs onto Clark’s right leg…jerking it forward as he drops to the canvas, driving Alan face-first into the mat with another hard DDT. Landon once again goes for the cover, hoping the move was enough to keep Alan down…

ONEEEEE!

TWOOOOOO!!

THREEEEEEEEEENNNNNOOOOOOO!!!!!!

Hall again shows that it was only a two count, but Maddix is off like a blur, shooting over and off the ropes, coming back into Alan and leaping into the air, rotating his body backwards in mid-jump, coming down with a beautiful Standing Star Press…

THUD!!

…HE MISSED! Alan Clark moves out of the way just in the nick of time, and Maddix’s risk does not pay off this time, leaving him to eat the canvas as Alan slowly gets to his feet. Both men seem to get up at nearly the same moment, but Landon’s aggression seems nigh, and he fires across the ring, looking to spear Alan right out of his shoes.

SMACK!

Landon’s face catches the bottom of Alan’s right foot in mid-run, causing him to drop onto his knees, putting him in perfect position for Clark to hook his arms and lift him off the ground…

WHAM!!

…showing Landon Maddix how the Dyer Maker is truly done, driving him down face-first into the canvas below. Alan once again does not go for a cover, knowing full well that Landon is still awake, as the Disciple rolls onto his back to try and get some air. Clark takes the free time to recover from his recent beatings, and is up to his feet a few moments before Maddix.

A crowd in the arena right now would be cheering and chanting like crazy as Clark moves in on Maddix, pulling him up to his feet by the hair and taking a second to look into his eyes. This gives the Disciple an up close and personal view of the bloody maniac he happens to be dealing with. Maddix’s eyes widen a bit before he is dropped back down, but he is soon on the move again, whipped hard into the corner. Alan follows behind, simply running straight into the corner and Maddix is crushed like a sandwich between the turnbuckle and his opponent. Clark back-steps, giving Maddix a chance to walk out of the corner. Landon does…but only makes it about two steps before…

…THUD…

…dropping down into the canvas. Alan seems to have things well in hand, lifting Landon up and looking into his eyes once more.

“It’s time you saw true emptiness…” the words from Clark sends shivers down the spines off all those within hearing distance, which happens to really only be Maddix himself. Clark shoves his boot into Landon’s gut, doubling him over and locking him into a standing headscissors. Alan takes the time to spell out his destruction on Maddix’s back…

O…..T…..D….

Alan smiles and leans down, looking to lift Maddix off his feet, but the Disciple has other plans, as he lifts his body up and dumps Alan over, dropping him down onto his back on the mat. Landon quickly falls back and on top of Clark, trying to sneak a win out him…

ONEEEE!

TWOOOO!!!

NOOOOOO!!!

Alan easily gets his shoulder off the mat after the two count as he rolls from underneath Maddix, but as he tries to get to his feet the attack continues, with Landon pulling him up and immediately going for an irish whip. Alan is able to reverse and put the momentum back onto Landon, but as he follows Maddix into the corner, the Disciple leaps up and plants his feet into the turnbuckle, using it as a springboard to flip backwards through the air, bringing his upside down body crashing into Alan. Both men crash to the mat, and Landon stays in position for a pin…

ONEEEE!

TWOOOOOO!!!

THREEEENOOOOOO!!!

Alan kicks out and rolls to his feet, and both men know that a simple press would not end the match, no matter how much Landon prays to Todd for it to happen. Both men once again go into a tie up, but Clark decides to be blunt with the issue, firing off a knee into Maddix’s stomach. The Disciple seems appalled as he is forced back, but not for long as he jumps up and sends his foot high into the air, catching the side of Alan’s head and dropping him to his knees with an enziguri kick.

With Alan on his knees, Landon bounces back and fires himself off the ropes, leaping into the air once more, bringing his leg around and repeating the blow, this time dropping Alan down on his face in the center of the ring. Landon quickly goes for another cover…

ONEEEE!

TWOOOO!!

THREEEE!

NOOOOO!!

Alan kicks out just before the three, and once again Landon is left upset as he gets back to his feet, a little miffed that he may have to physically knock Alan Clark out to keep him down. Landon pulls Alan up once more and tries for another irish whip into the closest ropes, but Clark seems to have different ideas, as he pulls Maddix back right into his arms. Maddix tries to escape, but Clark simply lifts him into the air, turning his body around and driving the Disciple into the canvas with a hard spinebuster.

If Comet was live in the arena, he would be screaming that Alan could be looking to finish off the match after the huge move, all the while Riley begged and pleaded for some mercy to be handed down. But alas, Bobby might be right, as Alan simply leans down, slapping Landon in the face a few times, looking for a reaction.

“GAHHH!!” The reaction Alan receives from Maddix is loud and unintelligible, causing him to smile once more as he pulls Landon up, giving him another hard punch right between the eyes before shoving him back down into another standing headscissor lock. Alan looks to end Maddix’s night with the OTD, lifting him into the air and trying to get him into position. Maddix is a bit more awake than Alan anticipated, however, and the Disciple pulls his body up on Clark’s shoulders before snapping it back down, flipping backwards and pulling Alan with him, driving him down into the mat with a beautiful hurricanrana and a pin…

ONE!!!

TWOOO!!!!

THREEEE!!!

NOOOO!!!!

Alan kicks out of the rana and gets to his feet relatively quickly, but as he does he takes another vicious superkick from Landon…the force of the blow sending him reeling backwards and into the corner. The kick is not as powerful as it usually is, and Alan simply shakes the cobwebs out of his head…but as he opens his eyes and looks for Maddix, he is surprised to see two feet heading straight for his face.

SMACK!

Landon leaps into the air and Alan eats a dropkick, leaving Maddix to roll backwards out of the aerial maneuvers and land perfectly on his feet. The move does not have it’s totally desired effect, however, and as Maddix lands he is met by a rushing Clark, who is looking to rip Landon’s head off his shoulders in one swift move. Maddix counters with a swift move of his own, and the whiff from Clark sends him spinning right into Landon’s arms and another front facelock. This time Maddix yells out loudly as he leaps into the air and spins his body, driving Alan down into the canvas with his own signature neckbreaker! Alan strikes the canvas hard and rolls to his back, but this time it is Maddix who does not go for a pin. Instead, the Disciple moves toward the corner and climbs up to the top rope, talking as he goes.

“I do that better than you do, Clark…I should steal that!” He taunts as he reaches the top rope, making sure to let out one final line before taking to the air…

“Now, for the Encore…”

Landon faces out toward the sea of steel chairs before leaping off and spinning his body around, getting adjusted in the air before rolling himself forward, looking to finish Alan off with the same move that defeated his mentor over four months ago…

…sadly, Landon forgets what happened ten months ago, when the same move cost Alan Clark his first match against that very same mentor…

THUUUD~!

…and Landon crashes and burns into the canvas as Alan gets out of the way just in the nick of time, rolling toward the center of the ring and to his feet as Landon’s back strikes the canvas with sheer brute force. Alan stands over Maddix and pulls him up, taking another look into his eyes before whipping him across the ring and into the ropes. Landon comes bouncing back and Alan tries for another clothesline…

DUCKED!

Landon moves out of the way and hits the ropes once more, and as he comes back he tries for a clothesline of his own on Clark…

DUCKED!!!

Alan ducks this time, and Landon once again hits the ropes. Alan looks for a leg lariat this time through, but the turn throws him off balance, and Landon channels the spirit of his own opponent by rolling past Clark with a cartwheel, landing perfectly on his feet and trying for another quick superkick.

DUCKED!!!!!

The spinning Clark regains his composure just in time to duck out of the way of the kick. Alan quickly catches Landon coming out of the move and pulls him down, locking him in a facelock and looking to get amped with his neckbreaker, just like Maddix did earlier…

…only this time, Maddix is prepared, pushing Alan backwards and escaping from the hold. Clark quickly throws on his brakes and stops mid-step, but Landon has other ideas, hoping up onto Alan’s shoulders and rolling backwards, looking for another hurricanrana…

…but it is not meant to be.

Alan blocks the rana and hooks Maddix around the waist, using his speed to wrap his legs around Landon’s arms, looking him in the hold so he can not escape. Time seems to go into slow motion as Alan hops up slightly and brings his body down, sitting out and driving Landon’s head straight down into the canvas. The crushing sound of Landon’s body being driven into the mat seems to echo throughout the arena, the sounds like small voices…telling the world of the armageddon in the ring…

O…

T…

D…

The Ordonez Tempest Driverbomb. Alan’s Clark’s mentor taught him well, and as he rolls to his feet and looks down at Landon Maddix, he can see that there is no light on behind those eyes. The smile seems to grow wider and wider on Clark’s face as he drops down, making his first cover of the match. Referee Hall sits in shock, looking down at the contorted body of Maddix, wondering if he should make the count or call 9-1-1…but the count must be made…

ONE…

TWO…

THREE…

And may Todd have mercy on your soul.

Hall finishes counting the three, and Alan gets back to his feet, slower than normal, trying to recover and breath after the brutal match he had just been through. He looks down on the unconscious body of Landon Maddix as the referee raises his hand. The cameraman keeps a watch on Maddix as Hall moves down to check on him.

Alan, on the other hand, leaves the ring…his head down and his eyes almost completely closed. The cameraman follows him, watching his every step as he makes his way toward the backstage curtain. The camera tries to keep both Alan Clark’s long walk and Landon Maddix in the ring in it’s sight, but as Clark gets to the curtain he turns back, looking down onto Maddix. His head drops once more and he speaks…

“Thank you, Landon Maddix, Thank you”

…and disappears through the curtain, leaving the images to fade to black…

Back to the live show now, as the crowd in the University Arena is cheering wildly as Alan Clark’s music blares throughout the building, giving the match somewhat of an official ending. At the announce table, both Bobby Riley and Cyclone Comet are still a bit shocked as to what they have just witnessed on the screen. Comet is the first to speak…

“Well there you have it, everyone. Alan Clark told the world he would leave Landon Maddix out cold in this arena and he did it, using Ced Ordonez’s Driverbomb to completely knock the Disciple’s lights out.”

“I don’t believe it” is all Riley can say as he looks up from his monitor. “Maddix had him right where he wanted him and that damn Clark just had to ruin it! He will rue the day he ever tried to tear apart the House of Todd like he has been these past few weeks!”

“Well, Robert…do you think Citizen Maddix has Alan’s respect now?”

“Who cares! I don’t want that damn hippie’s respect!” Riley snaps back, huffing a bit before settling back into his car.

“Hippie or not, the match is official. Alan Clark has defeated his long time rival Landon Maddix inside a completely empty arena, and who knows what may come of that victory in the next few weeks! But up next…we have the other half of this crazy equation…as the new USJL Champion Coy West steps into the ring to take on the House of Todd leader with the title on the line! For Todd’s sake, he’d better hope what he just saw isn’t an omen of things to come!”

“For Todd’s…I don’t believe you! Todd Royal is going to make Coy West pay for that loss a few days ago and he is going to leave her with gold around his waist! I guarantee it! Praise Todd!” Riley yells out as the fans try to calm down a bit before the next match begins…

the.weej · April 26, 2004

With the crowd continuing to roar loudly after the awesome displays of athletic competition already in the books this evening, The Cyclone Comet and Bobby Riley look about the battlegrounds at a number of signs held high into the air. Such meaningful messages as ‘Royal Pain in the Ass’ and ‘Megan has Herpes’ are spread about the arena as Riley and Comet finally get around to talking about the next contest to take place on this record breaking pay per view.

“Citizens, if you think you have seen some bad ass cracker stuff before,” recalls The Comet, “this next fight is going to be one for the Crusades. In this next contest, Coy West is going to be defending his newly won SWF USJL championship against the vile fiend and false Messiah Todd Royal.”

Riley audibly gasps, “F… f… false? There is nothing false about Todd Royal in the least! He can walk on water and part the seas at the same time! He can multiply fishes and loaves of bread by two at the very least! And he sure as heck can carve up this redneck punk ass and take that belt away from him before Coy can even spill his McDonalds special sauce on the damn thing.”

“Well,” replies The Comet with an arrogant air happily dancing in his lungs, “that might be true but on three separate occasions Coy West has gone into the ring with Todd Royal and come out the winner. Once in singles, once in a triple threat match and once in a tag match with Alan Clark, Coy West has taken Todd Royal down.”

“Total fluke, Todd didn’t get pinned, and he got blindsided,” replies Riley as he counts off the instances on his fingers. “West on the other hand is coming into this match with a bad knee mangled by My Todd on numerous occasions. Royal is going to take that limb and twist it right off that inbred sack of crap and make that bastard quit! You heard it! I made the call! I am Nostrodamous with a magic eight ball!”

“Okay you big spastic,” laughs The Cyclone Comet in response to the outburst. “Let’s stop with the yelling and go to the shouting as Funyon heralds our two battlers into the ring.”

And indeed he does. Standing in the middle of the ring with the shiniest camouflage the world has ever seen, Sgt. Funyon calls out to the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen… this next contest is scheduled for one fall and has a one hour time limit. This match is also for the Smarks Wrestling Federation UNITED STATES JUNIOR LEAGUE CHAMPIONSHIP! Introducing first the challenger…”

As the crowd begins to boo immediately since they know who the challenger is already, the lights of the arena drop down to nothing. But the darkness does not last for long until the SmarkTron lights up in the relief of a stain glass window version of the challenger. Standing there with a smiling face and a halo drawn around his head, the faux Royal stands there resplendent in glory until…

KEEE-RASH!

The virtual image shatters! Glittering pieces of glass drop in the vision of the SmarkTron as the crowd lets out a little cheer in the hopes that the true thing will be broken in just about the same manner. But that hope is dashed almost immediately as the Royal Tabernacle Choir begins to walk out through the entranceway and take up positions on both sides of the aisle way. Standing there in their blue robes the choir begins to sing to the glory of their master as their arms wave into the air.

“Our Todd… IS A VERY, VERY, VERY FINE TODD!

WITH TWO SERVANTS IN THE YARD

HIS MUSCLES ARE SOOOO HARD

NOW EVERYONE BOW DOOOOOWN TO HIMMMMM!”

“Best song ever!” smiles Riley broadly.

“I wish my mask blocked up my ears,” mumbles The Comet, “I swear to God… I swear to God.”

“Why swear to the old guy when you could swear to Todd!”

And so the Lord came before the masses with his manager right behind him. Smiling wide with a peaceful look on his face, Todd looks out to his choir as they all -cough- spontaneously drop to their knees in front of their master. Feigning humility, Royal beckons for the choir to rise for a moment before simply waving that they stay where they are. Waling through the mass of robes, Todd rolls up to the ring and slowly walks up the apron as Megan Skye waits for him there with the ropes parted. Stepping through the opening, Todd spreads his arms wide for a moment to receive boos and catcalls from the arena. Taking off his vest and sunglasses, Todd barely even listens to his own ring announcement from the heathen Funyon.

“He is the challenger. Weighing in tonight at a perfectly proportioned 220 pounds and hailing from heaven on earth, other wise known as San Diego, California. He is three fourths of the best tag team of all time The House of Todd and managed by the second-most brilliant mind in all of wrestling, Megan Skye. He is the way and light. He is TOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD ROYALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!”

Backing into the turnbuckles, Todd places his hands in the air as Megan checks him over for any flaws in his ring attire. But Skye can simply find nothing to change about her man and shrugs her shoulders with a vacuous smile. But there is one man who wants to muss up that perfection in just a few moments and he is one announcement away from being brought down to the ring.

“And his opponent…”

In stark contrast to his opponent, Coy West does not even have music ready in the sound truck ready to play for him as he walks through the curtain. He does not wear anything nearly as nice as the silver uniform worn by the Royal one. He does not have a choir or a woman there to cheer him on. All Coy needs is to be carrying the ten pounds of gold universally recognized as the USJL Championship belt. And so he does wear the gold, tied tightly around his waist. Waving his head about as he rolls to his feet in the ring, West works out the last of the kinks in his neck as he mentally prepares for the combat to come. There is one thing out of the ordinary however as a band of white tape is wound tightly around his left knee as a grim testament to the vile work of Todd. But West seemingly ignores whatever led him to taping up the limb as he steps up to the middle rope and lifts his USJL title up into the air and gives it a point as the crowd responds with a number of cheers for the low key champion.

“He weighs in tonight at 253 pounds and hails from Atlanta, Georgia. He is the two time and reigning Smarks Wrestling Federation United States Junior League Champion… he is ‘WILLLLLD’ COYYYYYYY WESSSSSSSSST!”

Stepping off the turnbuckles, West looks into the title’s reflection for a moment before giving it a light kiss in respect. Handing the title belt off to the referee assigned to this contest Eddy Long, West almost waves goodbye to the title as the referee carries it away. Folding the straps around the back of the title, Long walks it over to the challenger who snatches it right away from the official and starts to furiously wipe ‘the slobber’ from the glistening metal. But looking into the belt, Todd catches a vision of himself, which is all it takes to make the challenger smile once again. Passing the belt back to the referee, Todd shares a few words with Megan as the manager makes her way out of the ring and to her post at ringside as Long displays the title to all four sides of the ring. Next passing the strap to the outside official Eddy virtually skips into the center of the ring before calling for the action to get underway for the USJL Title!

DING! DING! DING!

Almost immediately the two men come charging across the ring and lock together into a collar-and-elbow lockup. Jockeying for position the two men fight over every inch that they can only to have West use his thirty-pound weight advantage to force the smaller man into a corner. Stepping in at a moment, the referee calls for the clean break, as the two combatants seem unwilling to allow each other any space at all. Finally though, West breaks free of the tie up forcefully enough to back out of range before the challenger can resort to any sort of cheap shot that we all know he wouldn’t hesitate for a moment before throwing. Instead all Royal can do is look out to the crowd for a moment in mock horror before sharing a laugh with his equally mocking manager. Inciting Coy in the process, Todd simply ducks into the ropes as the Champion advances at him once again and is backed off by the referee who seemingly is very interested in running a tight ship in this match up.

“Get in there and break it up Referee,” calls out Bobby as West has to be almost physically restrained so he doesn’t attack Royal while he is in such a protected position. “You just know that Georgia jerk off would love to muss up The Todd with no regards for the rules and regulations.”

“Which is exactly why he attacked Todd at the end of one match and split his head open with the USJL title? Oh wait that was Todd who attacked Coy! I forget things sometimes you know? I forgot my brain medication. In case you couldn’t tell, I was being sarcastic.”

“Well duh.”

Licking his index fingers, Todd swipes his moist fingers over his eyebrows to smooth them over as West simply shakes his head at the arrogance of the move and waits for Todd to make his way back into the center of the ring so the conflict can continue. And so Royal does nice and slow before the two men lock horns once again shoulder to shoulder as Megan looks on with interest and eggs her man on to prove himself as the more powerful this time around. But instead, West once again uses his strength advantage to muscle the smaller wrestler into a corner once again. Stepping into range yet again the referee counts towards a break as the two rivals fight for every inch that they can find in order to gain the advantage. And this time, Todd Royal manages to do just that as he grabs a handful of West’s long black hair and spins him around and pins him into the corner instead. Not listening to any instructions that might not prove to be beneficial to his own ends, Todd slams his opponent hard across the side of the head with a hard forearm to the side of the head.

WHAM!

BOOM!

But West just punches his foe right back in the middle of the face with a hard right hook. Dropping right down to the canvas, Todd grabs a hold of the middle rope and uses it pull himself away from his foe as West simply looks down at Royal as he wipes the side of his head where the forearm struck only a second before. He does not advance on Royal however as the challenger pulls himself all the way back to a corner as West continues to stand in the middle of the ring ready for more combat. But it seems as though Royal and Skye would rather just bitch at the moment. Hopping up to the apron, Megan screams at the referee upon the use of the closed fist as Royal simply pulls himself up to his feet once again with a glare fired over at his opponent before suddenly a look of concern crosses his face for a moment. Brushing past the referee with a slight bump, Royal goes face to face with his manager and questions her immediately about the state of his perfect visage.

“Oh you have to kidding me,” moans The Cyclone Comet as Royal is slowly convinced that he is not scarred for life. “Fans you have seen as much as well as I have that Todd Royal is as tough as they come. But this is just a silly display of vanity.”

“You want silly, how about that rampant display of cheating! RAMPANT! I am shocked and appalled!”

“Oh god no,” mumbles Comet at the prospect of listening to this nonsense for the next couple of minutes.

Turning back to West with an angry look, Royal charges right at Coy and right into a headlock take down. Whipped over the champion’s hip in an instant, Royal finds his back on the canvas as West tries to bend his foe’s shoulders to the canvas. But the well-schooled Todd Royal does not stay in that position for long before forcing his way onto his chest to avoid the pinning combination. But in doing so, Todd puts himself into position for West to pop his hips off the canvas and truly crank Royal’s neck backward in order to put the headlock to its fullest use. More hurt by the move than the basic nature of the hold might indicate Royal’s feet kick against the canvas as he struggles under the pressure. Working his knees underneath the base, Royal presses the USJL Champion off the canvas and immediately tries to gain some purchase on West’s bandaged knee. But as soon as he feels the grab around his limb, West rubs down on the headlock in order to kick his leg free and get both legs back on the mat where he feels they belong. But the hold does not last that much longer before Royal pushes his opponent backward and to the ropes.

“Break it up West,” calls out Long loud enough to be heard over the crowd, “break it!”

Lifting his arm from off Royal’s head, West looks for the referee to back Royal off only to have the challenger strike off the break yet again with an elbow to ribs from underneath. Doubled over from the shot to the gut, West finds himself on the wrong end of a whip to the ropes. Dipping his center of gravity, Royal looks to use a scoop body slam only to have West float right out of his grip and over the top. Turning immediately, Todd looks to grab the advantage more fully only to have Coy grab him around the neck yet again and take him down to the canvas back to the canvas with the headlock. But Royal does not stay locked up for long as he immediately snakes a hand into his opponent’s tights and pulls him over into a makeshift pinning combination.

ONE!

Kicking his shoulders off the canvas, West lands back with the headlock firmly in control of his foe. Working his way back into the arching variation, West once again attempts to pull his opponent’s neck into a awkward position as the referee looks on unwilling to even ask if Royal would submit to the move. Reaching around West’s body Royal strains with all of his strength in order to get West to forgo the headlock in favor of escaping the tight waistlock. Bust West simply pops his hips out and breaks his way out of the counter hold with simple leverage as Royal stays on his stomach for a few more seconds. But Royal does not stay locked up for long before once again fighting his way up to his feet with Coy still attached with the headlock. But how long he has control of the situation is yet to be seen as Royal simply goes back to the tight waist once again and lifts West right off the canvas for a belly-to-back suplex! But at the apex, West simply powers down on the head yet again and manages to force Royal to set him back down on the canvas for a moment before West simply takes him back down with the headlock.

“West has taken control in this early going,” reports The Comet as West moves right back into his favorite position with the hold.

“If you call it control,” yawns Bobby. “Seriously when was the last time that a headlock had anything to do with the ending of a match? It is just like that retard to do the simplest thing possible in the world. Todd is so much more refined in his style it is scary.”

Cyclone says, “I don’t know about that Bobby, sometimes simpler moves are easier to apply and just as effective as the most complex hold imaginable.”

Slapping the canvas in frustration, Royal shows an obvious amount of anger as his body shakes in the grasp of the champion. But what ‘Wild’ West does not see is Todd’s fingers pointing behind his back right at the well-positioned (and proportioned) Megan Skye who moves to where she knows she will be the most use to her spiritual advisor. And so as Royal pushes his way off the canvas once again, Skye waits patiently as Royal pushes his opponent off and into the ropes and drops down to the mat. Hurdling over his opponent, West is content to fling himself back into the ropes only have his legs suddenly pulled out from underneath him!

“That dirty, filthy, disgusting, bottom-feeding…”

“Oh please,” interrupts Riley, “the guy that put that thing together in the first place ran into the ground enough for twenty wrestling related personalities. I won’t have you doing it to!”

“Fair enough.”

Getting to his feet, West turns to look to the outside of the ring with a complete look of hatred as Megan looks to the referee with an innocent look that only her lawyer would believe. But in the end West has far larger problems as he turns to back to the center of the ring and is speared RIGHT OUT OF HIS BOOTS!

WHAMMMM!

Catching West right around the midsection, the challenger slams his heavier foe to the canvas with a hard tackle that folds his opponent right in half! Getting up to his feet, Royal rubs the back of his neck in order to relieve the pressure on his neck. Grabbing his jaw and the top of his head, Todd cracks his neck from side to side in order to clear up the rest of the damage before getting back on his gasping opponent. Kicking the kneeling West in the side of the face, Royal bends the USJL Champion backward over his knees as the crowd somewhat marvels at the flexibility of the redneck warrior. But they do not have long to wait as Todd hammers away with two short forearms to his opponent that knock West flat down to the canvas. But West does not have long to lie around on the job before Todd grabs him off the canvas and jams him into the top turnbuckle face-first. Fading into the buckle, West provides no defense as Todd once again strikes him hard with a forearm that knocks the larger man down into a seated position in the corner. Not waiting for long, Todd places his boot into the middle of West’s face and scrapes it across his features as the crowd tries to rally behind Coy.

“WEST! WEST! WEST! WEST! WEST!”

But the cheering is quickly wiped away as Todd once again wipes his boot across West’s face with all the disdain you might expect. Stepping out of the corner, Todd turns to the referee who was ordering him to break a moment ago and starts to bad mouth Long in order to draw his attention away as Skye reaches through the ropes and starts to choke the USJL Champion from the outside! Almost immediately fighting loose from the manager, West turns to look at Skye and perhaps grab a hold of her only to have Todd crash down on his back with all of his weight and clothesline Coy against the middle rope. Falling off the ropes, West ends up flat on the canvas as Royal simply puts his boot right down on the throat of his opponent as the referee counts away towards a disqualification.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

FOUR!

Breaking at the four count Royal backs away with a huge smile as the referee warns him repeatedly about all this rule violating. But royal simply does not care all that much about the official’s empty threats and pulls West off the canvas before shoving him backward into a corner once again. Grabbing West by the back of the head, Royal jams away with four strait forearms to the side of the head as Megan helpfully reaches into the ring and snags West by the ankle once again into order to keep him from effectively counter attacking. But some efforts simply do not work as West still has enough left in the tank to simply slug his arrogant foe with a hard right hook that brings the crowd’s attention back to the plight of their hero. Striking Todd across the face yet again, West knocks the challenger backward long enough for Coy to rip his foot out Megan’s grip and go back on the offensive. Punch after punch strikes home and sends the challenger reeling across the ring and into a corner with West in hot pursuit. Hammering away time and again, batters again and again until finally Royal simply steps out of the corner…

And falls on his face!

“HA!” laughs Comet maniacally as Todd shakes on the canvas for a moment before rising up to his knees. “Its always fun to watch bad things happen to bad people. I have that bumper sticker on my car.”

Grabbing Royal by the wrist, West pulls the challenger off the canvas and whips him across the ring with a hard Irish whip and crushes him against the turnbuckles with a hard clothesline! Ripping down across Royal’s head, Coy slaps on another headlock and uses it to pull his opponent out of the ring for a bulldog only to be roughly pushed off by Royal and across the ring once again. West does however mange to stop in time before he hits the buckles and turns right back into Royal and ANOTHER SPEAR!

Or maybe not…

Taking the brunt of the tackle with his chest, West still manages to wrap his arms around his opponent’s head and pulls him the way he was already going. Landing on the canvas, Royal finds himself caught in the middle of a guillotine choke! Immediately trying to pop Royal’s head loose, West tries to wrap his legs around Todd’s body as the challenger struggles to fight for some sort of air. Knowing that the leg scissors could make the difference between winning and losing this match, Royal fights to keeps his arms in the path as West struggle to tie the whole thing up in a little bow. But unfortunately for West, Todd does manage to stave off the leg portion of the hold long enough to start punching West right in the ribs in order to affect an escape as he pulls his head loose from the USJL Champion. Grabbing the back of his neck once again, Todd shows that the successive locks around his noggin have not gone completely unnoticed. But still Royal fights first as he jumps across West’s body and starts to pound away with some short right hands. Slowly pulling West off the mat, Todd tosses his foe across the ropes only to get cut down on the rebound as West takes him down with a flying lariat! Immediately rolling over the top and grabbing a leg, West tries to take home the victory with a count of…

ONNNNNNNNNNNNNE!

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

KICK OUT AT TWOOOO!

Struggling back up to his feet, West grabs Royal around the head and knocks him back to down to the canvas with a right hook. Immediately trying to pull himself away from the champion in order to regroup, Royal starts to crawl away only to have West mount him from behind and once again grab him by the hair. Pulling back on Todd’s chin, West slams home a number of crossface-style punches across the neck until Royal visually fades down to the canvas entirely. Stepping off Todd’s back, West measures his distances quickly and drops down efficiently with a legdrop that crushes his neck once again. Shattered by the attack on his neck, the master of The House rolls over onto his back as West rises up to his feet as seemingly as fresh as he was at the beginning of this contest. Collecting Todd off the mat, ‘Wild’ West plucks his opponent off the ground before burying him into the canvas with a hard body slam. But that move is only to set up the next one as Coy bounces backward into the ropes before crushing Royal under the weight of the corkscrew elbow drop!

WHAM!

Once again West makes the cover and is sure to pull as much of his weight over Todd’s neck to make kicking out all the harder for the challenger.

ONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNE!

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

THREEEEEENOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

“You just can’t keep a Todd down like that,” cheers Bobby Riley as West looks at the official and waves three fingers at him. “West might think this stuff is having an effect but just you watch! Todd will be out of this mess and throwing lightning bolts around in no time!”

The Comet says, “It might be harder than you think Bobby, Citizen West has taken basic holds and strung them together in such a way to make Royal’s neck a supreme liability here tonight. And as goes the head so goes the rest of the body.”

Indeed Todd does not seem to be in the best of shape as he tries to escape from Coy’s path once again only to stumble backward into the ropes. There Royal is kicked across the face as the redneck warrior continues to pound at his head at every opportunity. Grabbing Todd by the wrist Coy tosses his opponent across the ring and sets his weight up to take Royal over with a powerslam. But that plan is thwarted as Todd hooks himself around the top rope to block the whip from taking him any further. Immediately trying to counter the defensive maneuver, West charges ahead in order to cut Royal down with a clothesline only to have Todd duck low and send his opponent over the top rope and to the floor!

“Brilliant!” calls out Bobby in the hopes that this will cause a rapid change in the complexion of the match.

Holding onto the back of his neck, Royal leans into the ropes closest to the downed West in order to get the referee to give him his attention. Grabbing the referee’s view from his opponent, Todd gives Megan Skye the opening she needs to run up on West and kicking him hard in the middle of the chest with a glancing blow. But the attack does more to annoy than hurt as West gets up almost immediately and stares down the easily frightened Skye as she backs away from Coy as soon as they meet eyes. But injury is not exactly Megan’s job as is clearly evidenced as Royal rolls out of the ring and sneaks behind West as the crowd tries to futilely warn the USJL Champion about the pending attack. But alas that is not to be…

CLANG!

Grabbing West by the back of the head and tights, Royal chucks Coy forward and into the ringside steps! Cracking his knee into the steps, West flips right over the steel appliance and grabs a hold of his bandaged knee as he screams out in pain and frustration. And so as Royal leans against the apron with a hand on his neck, West tries to regain his feet only to find that his left knee is not exactly up to snuff. In fact it seems as though Coy can only stand on his right leg at the moment as he cautiously puts his other leg down on the floor only to have it kicked out from underneath him with a hard kick to the back of the calf! Dropping backward to the floor, West continues to clutch at his knee as Royal looks into the ring to mark how far along the referee is in his count. Knowing that he cannot win the belt on a count out, Royal grabs the champion off the floor and tosses him underneath the bottom rope rather than worry about anything going wrong.

“I knew it,” gloats Bobby, “I knew it was only a matter of time before Royal took that inbred cousin lover down once and for all!”

Sliding into the ring after Coy, Royal places the USJL Champion’s leg over the middle rope before leaping off the canvas and dropping down with all his weight onto the knee. Pulling his leg off the rope as soon as he can, West crawls out towards the middle of the ring and away from the ropes. But escape is not possible from a vengeful Todd, because not only is he omnipotent but because he can walk. Stepping down on Coy’s ankle with one leg, Royal exposes the damaged knee so he can stomp down on it with a clear shot. Crushing the knee under his boot, Royal grins maniacally as West struggles to pull himself away from his deadly challenger. Grabbing West around the knee, Royal assists the champion on his way up to a vertical base even though Todd still controls the knee. And using that control is right up Todd’s alley as he rips Coy down to the canvas with a dragon screw legwhip that sends Coy screaming to the canvas as his knee continues to suffer the brunt of Todd’s attack. But it seems as thought the attack has only just begun as Royal grabs Coy by the ankle and pulls him closer to the ropes once again. But this time instead of using the ropes to drop on Coy, Royal simply slides underneath them to the outside. There, the challenger pulls Coy spread eagle across the ring post. Then taking the leg, Todd SLAMS it across the ring post even as the referee slides out of the ring to complain about the infraction.

SLAM!

Again the knee is hobbled against the steel as Royal actively ignores the call of Eddy Long to break up these illegal attacks. Up in Royal’s grill, Long finally manages to back the master of The House off with threats of disqualification only to have Megan step into place and slam West’s knee against the steel in his stead!

“That … that… BITCH!” calls out The Comet as Megan steps away from the evidence with a jaunty wave to the booing crowd.

“Comet! Language!” admonishes Bobby Riley. “If you can’t say anything nice about someone you shouldn’t say anything!”

“You’ve been calling Citizen Coy a redneck inbred gap-toothed cousin-lover this whole match!”

“Southerners aren’t really people, Comet.”

Sliding back into the ring, Royal pulls West out from the ropes a few feet before cinching back into West with a step over toehold. Wrenching the knee to one side in the hold, Royal locks down hard as West puts his hands over his face in pain. But the pain is about to get much worse as Todd reaches out and grabs the top rope strand for leverage as the referee is checking in on the champion in case that he submits. But as no submission seems to be coming, Long looks up and sees that… nothing is happening. Keeping a close eye on the official as he cheats, Royal releases hold of the ropes just before the official looks back up his way. And so as the referee turns back to West, Todd once again snags a hold of the top rope and causes even more pain to the joints of the writhing USJL Champion. But the referee does not look away for long and soon catches Todd in the act. Immediately in the face of the challenger, Long warns him to release the hold or be disqualified. Not even holding back anymore, Royal pulls on the ropes as hard as he can until the count of four when he releases the hold and steps away from Coy with his hands in the air. With a great big smile on his face, Royal moves his neck from one side and the other to shake loose the rest of his discomfort as West simply moans in pain as a result of the attack on his already tender knee.

“See this is just what I told you would happen,” laughs Bobby, “West was so wrapped up in his little strategy, Royal took the offensive with a far larger degree of impact and intelligence. Yes indeed. United States Junior League Champion Todd Royal has such a great ring to it.”

Moving back in on West, Royal pulls the champion up and tosses him across the ring with a whip for a backdrop toss. But in an odd turn of fate, West’s own injury protects him from running so fast that he gets caught in the maneuver and instead he manages to stop himself just in time and hook Royal around the head for a suplex! But even as West tries to pull Royal up for what had to be his slingshot finisher, it becomes apparent that his knee will not support the weight of the throw! And so the instant Royal’s feet hit the canvas, he sends West overhead instead with a furious snap suplex. Quickly rolling his hips from one side to the other, Royal rolls Coy over and sends him flying over the top once again with a hard vertical suplex. But there is still one more trip to the woodshed for Coy as Royal pulls him to his feet once more before sending up in the air and holds him up in the air for an extended period of six seconds before dropping him once more to the canvas!

“The Trinity!” calls out The Cyclone Comet, “this could be all right here and now! Royal hooks the leg!”

ONNNNNNNNNNNNNNE!

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

THREEEEEEEEEENNOOO!

Forcing his shoulders off the canvas at the last moment, West keeps his USJL Title alive for at least a few more moments as Todd looks at the referee with the look of a man highly annoyed by telephone marketers.

“Citizen West survives the Trinity but he’s got far larger problems if he can’t use the slingshot suplex,” calls out The Comet. “He used it on Andrew Blackwell to win the USJL championship the first time. He used it beat Stryke and reclaim the USJL Championship in the triple threat. He even used that move to beat Royal the first time they met in the ring. If he can’t use that suplex, what can he do to win this thing?”

“I see someone is coming over to my side of thinking finally,” replies Riley. “I can set you up for a membership in the Church of Todd all you need to do is give up your house and volunteer for one thousand years of servitude.”

Snatching Coy’s leg off the canvas again with a smile on his face, Royal slowly measures his opponent before dropping down with a hard elbow across the joint which sends West in another bout of screams as he feels the ligaments tearing from his bones. But Royal only seeks to add more screams to his collections as he slowly drags the USJL Champion off the canvas once again and immediately grab a hold of his leg from behind. Curling the leg underneath, Todd lifts the wild westerner off the canvas before sending him home with a hard kneebreaker that causes West to once again drop to the canvas in a litany of pain and frustration at taking such a beating. But that frustration can soon turn into terror as Royal grabs the other healthy limb off the canvas and starts to spin in preparation for the Wrath of Todd figure-four leglock!

But West counters with a small package!

ONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNE!

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

THREEEEEENOHEKICKSOUT!

Getting to his feet first, Royal strikes low with a kick tot he front of the knee that knocks the USJL champion right back down to the canvas with a sickening scream of rage. Grabbing West off the canvas almost immediately, Royal ducks behind Coy once again but this time seems set for a belly-to-back suplex perhaps to transition into the Blue Thunder powerbomb. But as Royal has West up at his highest point, West muscles down with a headlock as hard as he can on Todd’s tender neck and forces both men back down to the canvas with a huge bulldog!

WHAMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!

Cracking his face and neck against the canvas once again, Royal rolls over onto his back in pain as West starts to drag his body over to the ropes. Getting there West gingerly pulls himself up to his feet as Royal slowly manages to do the same in response. But before Coy can make any move to continue the rally, he finds himself wrapped up from behind by Megan Skye! Hopping up the apron, the beautiful manager wraps her arms around the USJL Champion in order to give her man another shot at him. And so he does…

BAM!

But he doesn’t hit West.

“Oh my Todd… MEGAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!” screams out Bobby Riley as Todd superkicks his own manager right underneath the jaw as West breaks out of her grip and dodges out of the way!

“Finally the worm turns on that interfering hag!” laughs out The Cyclone Comet as the manager drops right down to the apron and rolls all the way down to the hard concrete bellow. Landing on the mat, Skye lies unmoving and has been clearly knocked unconscious by the kick to the face.

Looking to his manager in shock at what he has just done, Todd looks like the Pope just offered him some porn until he is pulled down from behind with a school boy rollup!

ONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNE!

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

THRENOOKICKOUTKICKOUT!

Rising up first, Todd also manages to act first as he places a boot into West’s chest in order to swing around and catch him in the back of the head with a hard enziguri kick! Getting up to his feet once again Royal immediately starts to stomp the crap out of his foe before dropping down and starts to chuck right hands right into the back of the head with an almost insane fury!

“Yes! YES! Make him pay the price break him down!” calls forth a vengeful Riley as Todd seeks revenge for his fallen manager. “Do not let that inbred bastard get away with it!”

“He’s abandoning the plan though!” adds The Cyclone Comet. “Royal is not attacking the knee!”

“Who cares? MURDER HIM!”

Letting West get up to his knees Royal grabs his opponent from behind and wrenches him up to his feet with a wretched amount of venom. And it does not take much longer after for Royal to grab a hold of West into the full nelson in order to finally bury the wild one with the Todd Damn dragon suplex!

But West BREAKS the nelson and spins down with a drop toehold! Immediately floating over the top while still having Todd’s leg trapped West locks in a facelock to complete the STF!

“This must be what West has been planning for the entire time! That’s why he start ed the match with all those headlocks! He is going to pull Royal’s head off!”

“NO! NO! NOOOOOOOOOOO!” screams Riley as Todd reaches out in vain in the hopes of getting somewhere near the ropes.

Prying backward on the hold, West looks to bring forth that admission of guilt as Royal simply screams in the middle of the ring. “MEGAN! MEGAANNNN!” shouts the challenger in the vain hope that his manager will somehow make the save. But she is still out like a light on the arena floor as Royal is trapped in a move designed by Lou Thez himself! Screaming out in agony, Royal tries to push the chinlock for his neck only to have West stand firm with the hold and determined to hear one little sound…

TAP! TAP! TAP!

“He gave up! Royal gave up!”

DING! DING! DING!

Rolling off Todd, West grabs a hold of his knee and rolls over to the ropes as Eddy Long retrieves the USJL Title from the timekeeper. Leaving an agonized Royal grabbing his neck and an unconscious Megan Skye in his wake, West slowly rises up to his feet with the aid of the ropes as Long passes him his belt back. Taking the strap, West holds the belt up and over his head with one hand as the other keeps him stable long enough to hear the official announcement of victory.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” calls out Funyon, “the winner of this match by submission and STILLLLLLLLLL United States Junior League Champion … ‘WILLLLLLLLLLLLD’ COYYYYYYYYY WESSSSSSSSSSSST!”

Putting the strap over his shoulder, West takes one last look at both of his defeated adversaries as they stay down on the ground where they belong in his mind. But they are no longer Coy’s problem as he slowly steps through the middle ropes and lowers himself to the floor. Coy has larger goals ahead. And he knows now that a plan is only good if you follow it from beginning to end. And tonight, Coy did that while Todd did not and that was the difference.

the.weej · April 26, 2004

The awesome tuneage of ‘Schism’ by Tool reverberates around the University Arena as the cameras pan over the ENORMOUS congregation of SWF fans who have paid out their hard-earned money to see this Pay-Per-View in person. The local contingent of the Unnamed section wave their blank signs vigorously, but they are matched by the vocal group supporting the Unholy Trinity and wearing Team Horrorcore shirts. And it is these fans who start to stamp and chant as the lights go down in preparation for the next match. Because this match is going to be BRUTAL. And long. And in all probability very, very confusing...

“Well grapple-fans, it’s time for the biggie!” our heroic commentator Cyclone Comet enthuses. “No, not the main event, but something that could well have just as many implications for the future direction of the SWF simply because there are three, yes three titles on the line!”

“And you just watch, Comet, as Psychological Warfare take them all!” Bobby Riley announces confidently.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is a...” Funyon looks down at his card uncertainly, not sure if what he is about to say makes any sense, “...Triple-Quadruple Threat Match scheduled for three falls... and is for the SWF Hardcore Gamers, Intercontinental-Television AND Tag Team Titles!” The cheers rise in New Mexico but the faithful and not-very-camouflaged ring announcer ploughs on, perhaps thinking that if he says it quickly no-one will ask him questions later. “The first fall is to be contested under normal four-way tag rules, and the individual getting the pinfall will become Intercontinental-Television Champion! The second fall will be contested under HARDCORE RULES~!...” the crowd pops again “and the individual getting the pinfall will become the Hardcore Gamer’s Champion! The third and final fall will be contested under normal four-way tag rules, and is for the Tag Team Titles!”

“Well, I’m glad we got that cleared up,” Bobby Riley comments as Funyon exits the ring quickly, clutching his glittery helmet tightly, and takes up station by the announce desk. His job is not yet done of course, but there are soon to be eight men in that ring - and one of them will be the notoriously unpredictable (or perhaps all-too predictable) Hell Machine.

“Shush Robert,” Comet chides his partner. “It will all become clear momentarily.”

There is a pause, and then...

BOOOOOOM!!

...the top of the entrance ramp is suddenly enveloped by gold pyro as ‘Popular’ by Nada Surf kicks in. The smoke clears and two men are revealed to the New Mexico faithful - one blonde and grinning smugly, the other darker and more sombre. Mike Van Siclen starts to strut down to the ring, playfully taunting the fans who dislike him, slapping hands with a couple of others who seem to be showing support. Meanwhile Todd Cortez follows behind, briefly holding his arms crossed like an ‘X’ in his straight-edge symbol.

“Introducing first!” Funyon booms as the two men approach the ring. “At a combined weight of 457lbs, they are the former Tag Team Champions, ‘The Spectacle’ Mike Van Siclen and ‘Urban Legend’ Todd Cortez... THE IIIINNNNN-CRRRRROOOOOOOWWWWWD!!”

Van Siclen hops straight into the ring, shrugs off his trenchcoat and flings it over the ropes to the timekeeper but Cortez takes longer, kissing his gold cross and pointing up at the sky before looping the chain over his neck and handing it over. The Urban Legend then joins his partner in the ring and the pair retreat to the corner assigned to them by referee Sexton Hardcastle.

“Well Robert, what can we say about the In-Crowd?” Comet asks. “In their first match together they won the tag team titles. In their second match together, they lost the tag team titles. It is this sort of inconsistency that has plagued the career of Mike Van Siclen-”

“Now hold up a second there, Comet,” Riley interrupts. “Anything that has gone badly for Mike Van Siclen can be blamed on Wild & Dangerous!”

“True,” Comet agrees. “Not with any connection to reality, but Mike Van Siclen can blame Wildchild and Johnny Dangerous - much as you can blame Kermit the Frog for your haemorrhoids.”

“What!?” Riley splutters. “You masked freak, I don’t have-”

“Quiet Robert, we should not be discussing this on the air.”

Riley appears prepared to argue the point, but he is cut off by the lights in the arena going right down. A hush descends over the crowd, and for a moment all is quiet. The blacked-out Smarktron merely shows a white ankh; then suddenly drums, guitars and strings explode into life as Dimmu Borgir’s ‘Progenies Of The Great Apocalypse’ blast out over the speakers. The Smarktron screen shatters to display a shot of Psychological Warfare - the Demon wild-eyed, Toxxic grinning his cocky lopsided grin. Red spots light the entrance ramp as the crowd starts to boo.

“And their opponents,” Funyon bellows over the chorus of disapproval. “Accompanied to the ring by Jet; at a combined weight of 446lbs, the team of Jimmy ‘The Demon’ Liston and the SWF Hardcore Gamer’s Champion Toxxic... PSYCHOLOGICAL WAAAAARRRRRR-FAAAAARRRRRREEEEEE!!”

*bam-bam-bam-bam-bam-BOOOOOM!!*

White pyros climb the entrance ramp from ringside until the stage explodes with a blast of red pyro as the snarling vocals kick in, the smoke clearing to reveal Jimmy ‘The Demon’ Liston and Toxxic side-by-side. The Demon gazes down the ramp, an almost hungry look in his red eyes, but Toxxic hangs back for a second and waits for a slim shape with black-and-red dreadlocks to emerge from behind the curtain. Jet joins him at the top of the ramp, her boyfriend’s Hardcore Gamer’s title slung over one shoulder as they follow Liston down towards the ring. Upon reaching the squared circle Liston ascends a turnbuckle and pumps both his fists in the air, while Toxxic plants a kiss on Jet’s cheek for luck. The Brit then scales another ringpost before sweeping his arms wide, palms flat in his own straight-edge pose as the crowd jeer up at the pair. Ignoring the fans Psychological Warfare congregate in their own corner, but not before Toxxic casts a sharp glance over at Cortez. It is the first time the SWF’s two straight-edgers have met, and they exchange a look that is half-respectful, half-mistrusting.

“Now these are my picks for tonight, Comet,” Riley asserts. “We all know that Toxxic is a fantastic competitor, but when teaming with Liston they really gel into a unit that is greater than the sum of its parts.”

“They’ve won one and lost one, the same as the In-Crowd,” Comet counters, “and it’s fair to say have less recent tag team experience than any of the other three teams here tonight. The last time we saw Jimmy Liston was when he and Toxxic were fleeing the arena after defeating Dace Night and Danny Williams - and they were being pursued by these two men...”

The lights have dropped. Smoke is billowing out of the entrance way, adding to the haze that has already gathered from the pyros of the In-Crowd and Psychological Warfare. The smoke seems to glow red, and red lasers create a web of light across the sound stage. And striding through the smoke come two monstrous figures...

‘LET FREEDOM RING WITH A SHOTGUN BLAST!’

Yet more pyros go off as ‘Davidian’ by Machinehead kicks in and the Trinity Section start to go wild. Red strobe lights flash up and down the entrance way and illuminate the seven-foot forms of the two largest members of the Unholy Trinity - one of whom happens to be carrying a flick scythe as tall as he is, and pushing a shopping trolley full of assorted nasty weapons...

“And their opponents,” Funyon quavers, seemingly unable to remove his eyes from the menacing shapes approaching the ring, “at a combined weight of 675lbs; they are ‘The Black Angel’ Aecas and the SWF Intercontinental-Television Champion, ‘The Hell Machine’ Janus; THE UUUUNNNN-HOOOOOO-LLLEEEEEE TRRRRIN-I-TEEEEE!!”

Janus sheds his white trenchcoat as he reaches the ring steps, his eyes seeming to blaze red as the light reflects off them. Aecas’ eyes shine a dead white as the Black Angel stands beside his partner, his black-and-white face matching Janus’ black-and-white hair. Over in the far corner of the ring, Mike Van Siclen and Todd Cortez stare pugnaciously back at the two men they won the tag titles from - but everyone in the arena can sense that things may be different this time. For one thing, Janus is starting the match. For another, this time the Trinity are pissed.

“I think the question in everyone’s mind tonight is; will Aecas be able to restrain Janus?” Comet says. “I imagine very few of the SWF roster have slept well since Smarkdown knowing that this madman is now walking freely amongst them again.”

“Keep your voice down!” Riley hisses. “He might hear you! Personally, since Smarkdown I’ve frequently thought that Zenon did a great thing by bringing out Janus to totally destroy Kibagami...” The colour commentator looks up at the ring, and swallows. “But now I see him up close again... I’m thinking perhaps booking that match wasn’t the smartest thing Zenon’s ever done.”

“Especially since he and Aecas appear to be looking forward to the Hardcore fall,” Comet muses.

Janus seems quite prepared to head over for the In-Crowd and start laying waste to all and sundry, but Aecas’ firm grip on his arm prevents the Hell Machine from following his instincts. The big Australian turns the burning red gaze onto his tag team partner, who stares right back at him - and Janus slowly subsides, allowing the Black Angel to pull him back. The camaraderie from earlier matches is gone, however; Terrence’s friends are not Janus’ friends, and the Hell Machine is merely biding his time.

As Sexton Hardcastle breathes a sigh of relief the lights dim for a fourth and final time. Suddenly the beats of ‘Y.O.U’ by Redman and Method Man start to thump from the University Arena PA system, and the crowd erupts as the reigning tag champions appear out of the entrance trench!

“And the final contestants;” Funyon bellows, striving to make himself heard, “at a combined weight of 431lbs; they are the SWF Tag Team Champions; Wildchild and the SWF Cruiserweight Champion Johnny Dangerous... WIIIIILLLLLD... AAANNND... DAAAYYYYNNN-GERRRR-RRUUSSSS!!”

“Can you hear that, Robert?” Comet yells. “That’s the esteem in which Johnny Dangerous and Wildchild are held in these parts!”

“That’s the level of stupidity of the fans, more like!” Riley answers. “And before you think I’m playing favourites, don’t forget that the Trinity would have received the same mind-blowingly sickening level of hero-worship if half the arena hadn’t been too scared to cheer for Janus!”

The tag champions come down the aisle, pumping up the fans as they go, but despite the confidence oozing from every pore the pair are given a moment’s pause by the sight awaiting them. In one corner, the In-Crowd; defeated in a ladder match on Smarkdown and eager to make the Wild & Dangerous tag reign just as short as their own, quite apart from Cortez’ desire to prove himself and Van Siclen’s hatred of the Barracuda and the Tropical Tumbler. In the second corner, Psychological Warfare; another straight-edge rookie, but one with scalps including Dace Night (twice), Danny Williams and the man formerly known as Silent, while Liston was part of the team that beat Dace and Danny, and his strength and refusal to play fair should never be underestimated. And in the third corner, the pairing (more or less) that ended Wild & Dangerous’ previous reign; Aecas and Janus, two seven-foot monsters with bad intentions, a hunger for more gold and probably enough psychological problems to send Sigmund Freud away with a headache. Given the circumstances, it is understandable that Johnny Dangerous’ eyes look slightly worried as he removes his sunglasses, and that Wildchild isn’t smiling.

“OK Citizens, let me just try and recap the history here for you,” Comet says gallantly as the tag champs enter the ring and hand their belts over the Sexton Hardcastle. “Mike Van Siclen blames Wild & Dangerous for... well, just about everything that’s gone wrong for him in the last couple of years or so. His partner Todd Cortez has no real connection with Van Siclen except that he was found as a replacement for Scott Thompson, who was meant to be Van Siclen’s partner in the triple-threat tag match that saw them win the tag titles from the Unholy Trinity. The Trinity had won those titles from Wild & Dangerous, who later won the straps back from the In-Crowd on Smarkdown. Meanwhile-”

“Don’t forget to breathe,” Bobby Riley interjects.

“Meanwhile,” Comet continues, shooting a sidelong glance at his commentary partner, “Toxxic beat Aecas for the Hardcore Gamer’s title at From The Fire and then said some very nasty things afterwards before going on to beat Dace Night, then beat Dace Night and Danny Williams (who is of course a friend of the Trinity), and all the while get in the Trinity’s heads. This came to a head - no pun intended - when Janus, who was then Terrence (mostly)-”

“He’s babbling!” Riley shouts, looking towards the backstage area for support. “Has anyone got Axis’ number?”

“-beat Toxxic for the ICTV belt on the Smarkdown-before-last,” Comet soldiers on bravely. “Janus became the dominant personality before his match with Nathaniel ‘Silent’ Kibagami last Smarkdown, and it is Janus, not Terrence, who will be partnering Aecas tonight.”

“So Jimmy Liston has no part at all, except being Toxxic’s tag partner when they beat Dace and Danny?” Riley asks, trying to straighten things out.

“Ye-no, actually,” Comet corrects himself, “when Toxxic beat Dace one-on-one he found himself cut off from safety by Terrence, only for Liston to jump the railings and reveal his alignment with Toxxic by hitting Terrence... in... the...”

There is a long pause.

“Oh dear,” Riley says quietly. “Do you suppose Janus remembers?”

The commentary duo share a glance up at the ring, where the Hell Machine is staring malevolently around at all and sundry.

“Let’s just say I wouldn’t bet against it,” Comet replies weakly.

Finally, Sexton Hardcastle manages to get some sort of order in the ring and persuades all the teams that yes, they really can only have one member starting the match. Mike Van Siclen convinces Todd Cortez that the veteran should be in the ring first; the tag champs elect to send out Wildchild’s speed rather than Johnny’s martial arts abilities; Aecas somehow manages to talk Janus into staying on the apron for the moment, and with a nervous glance over at the Trinity corner Toxxic steps out of the ring to let Jimmy Liston start things off.

“Curious, that,” Comet comments. “Toxxic looks more worried about Aecas than Janus.”

“Toxxic is probably the person Janus hates least in this match, Comet,” Riley replies. “The Terrence/Janus combo beat him recently whereas Janus is seeking to avenge old losses or low-blows against everyone else, not to mention the fact that Aecas has never got his hands on YOUR Hardcore Gamer’s champion since their match at From The Fire.”

*DING-DING!*

“And we’re underway!” Comet enthuses. “Er... guys? You’re supposed to move...”

After all the waiting, all the staring at each other and all the muttered planning, none of the four men seem that eager to get into action. However, Mike Van Siclen takes the lead by setting his sights firmly on one of the two men he holds responsible for his underachievement in the SWF - Wildchild. The Spectacle advances cautiously but Wildchild stands relaxed, confident in the knowledge that he can outmanoeuvre the veteran. However, as Wildchild glances around the ring to check his escape routes he sees something mildly unnerving; the Black Angel is closing in on him too, dead white eyes fixed on the little Bahaman Bomber. It was the In-Crowd that beat Terrence and Aecas for the tag titles, true, but Aecas is no fool and knows who the most polished tag team in the ring are. Cortez and Van Siclen can wait - eliminate the strongest threat first. Wildchild backs off, looking a little more apprehensive now, only to see the red-tinged eyes of Jimmy Liston advancing as well.

“What reason does Liston have to hate Wildchild?” Comet cries.

“None, really,” Riley shrugs. “But why waste a golden opportunity?”

Wildchild is backed up into his own corner now, three very differently sized-and-shaped wolves having cornered him. Dominic LeCroix knows that he is most effective in the cut-and-thrust of mid-ring action, but he has to bide his time for the moment. Watching his adversaries carefully, the Human Hurricane prepares to move...

...and darts forward, ducking under a devastating Yakuza kick from Aecas!

*CRACK!!*

“Oh dear,” Riley calls in mock-dismay. “He hit Dangerous instead!”

Wildchild sprints for the far ropes, desperately trying to put some distance between himself and his pursuers. Van Siclen makes to follow, but the Spectacle is considerably slower than his quarry - too slow to dodge the Pinball Attack that comes ricocheting back at him!

*SMACK!!*

Bouncing back to his feet Wildchild sees Liston making for him, arm extending for a clothesline. In a seamless blur of motion the Tropical Tumbler leaps upwards into the air, hooking his hands around the back of the Demon’s head and bringing him over backwards with the Freefall. Liston’s body somersaults forwards - and lands at right-angles to and smack on top of the groaning Van Siclen! The supernaturally-agile Wildchild lands on his feet, takes a step towards Aecas, last seen cleaning secret agent off his shoe sole-

-and get hoisted a full nine feet into the air in a Black Angel press slam!

“You know what’s coming now, Comet!” Riley yells as Aecas’ eyes lock onto the attractive Liston/Van Siclen mat decor.

Striding forwards Aecas virtually launches Wildchild up - then brings him slamming down at right-angles over Liston’s ribcage!

*WHAM!!*

“Mother F’n Bomb!” Comet calls as all three men yell out in pain with what air remains in their lungs. “Aecas just made a Liston sandwich using two other men!”

“Mmm... man sandwich...” Riley murmurs before a sharp and heroic elbow in the ribs jolts him back to the carnage in the ring.

Swooping down like some monstrous, over-sized and bizarrely-painted vulture, Aecas covers ALL THREE men in an effort to win the first fall!

ONE!

...

TWO!!

...

Broken up by- Janus?

“Of course!” Comet realises as the Hell Machine pulls his partner off by the arm. “The ICTV belt is currently Janus’, and the Hell Machine is not a team player! He won’t want Aecas winning it off him, even if they are tagging together tonight!”

The two seven-footers stand nose-to-nose, red eyes boring into white... but then Aecas steps back and motions to the ring ropes. Janus strides over, steps outside - and the Black Angel immediately tags him in officially! With a look of relish, Janus steps back over the top rope and advances on the three men starting to pick themselves up off the floor.

“I think it may be time to tag out,” Comet comments dryly as the big Australian stoops to grab Wildchild. Bobby Riley, of course, is not so relaxed.

“Liston! Get the hell out of there NOW!” the colour man yells to his favoured competitor.

Janus hauls Wildchild to a vertical base, but his eagerness to get to grips with his foes proves the big man’s undoing. Twisting out of his attacker’s grasp Wildchild ducks down and scoots between the Hell Machine’s legs, causing Janus to stoop and claw the air futilely. Reaching the ropes again, Wildchild springboards off the second one and comes flying back with a crossbody at his turning opponent-

“Stupid, stupid, stupid...” Riley mutters

-that is caught effortlessly across his chest by the towering Antipodean! Grinning maliciously, Janus drops to one knee, driving the other into the Caribbean Cruiser’s ribs...

*CRUNCH!!*

...Janus stands back up, then drops again...

*CRUNCH!!*

...stands back up for a third attempt - and has his legs taken out from underneath him as Jimmy Liston and Mike Van Siclen simultaneously kick him in the backs of his knees!

“TIIIIIMMMMMMBBBBEEERRRRRRRRR!!” Liston shouts gleefully as the giant topples backwards. Van Siclen, on the other hand, is more practically-minded.

“Get him!” the veteran yells, hauling Wildchild’s body off the fallen Hell Machine. Jumping up to the top rope, Todd Cortez is quick to oblige with a Senton splash... moments later Johnny Dangerous, now happy that his partner is out of harm’s way and seemingly recovered from the Yakuza kick, comes off the top with a diving elbow-drop... and the finishing touch is added by Toxxic as he somersaults off the top rope to drop a leg over Janus’ throat with the Hangover! Seeing his opportunity, Van Siclen dives down for a cover... on Wildchild!

ONE!

...

TWO!!

...

TWO-AND-A-QUARTER!!

...

But the pin is broken up by Johnny Dangerous! The SWF’s resident secret agent proceeds to pound on the Spectacle for the audacity of trying to cover his partner. Meanwhile, Liston attempts to cover Janus...

ONE!

...

...but the Hell Machine throws him clean off WITH AUTHORITY~, powering the Demon a good three feet into the air! Aecas starts to step over the ropes to come in and help his partner out, but Janus waves him back with an angry glint in his eyes. The giant pushes himself up to one knee...

*CRACK!!*

...and abruptly gets hit in the face by a superkick from Toxxic! Janus slumps sideways and the Straight-Edge Sensation turns away smugly...

*SMACK!!*

...only to get nailed in the jaw by a similar move from Todd Cortez, the former tag champion demonstrating his martial arts background! Having removed one adversary Cortez ignores the bleatings of Sexton Hardcastle and turns to check on his partner...

*KERR-RRACK!!*

...and gets blasted by two superkicks, as Wild & Dangerous nail the Super Chicklet Buster on the unlucky straight-edger! Cortez hits the canvas hard, but some street instinct compels the Urban Legend to roll out of the ring and avoid further harm. Wildchild pauses for a moment to grabs his ribs - and in that one second, Janus drives himself back to his feet and charges forward, nailing BOTH members of Wild & Dangerous with a double clothesline! Aecas grins from his corner, but the crowd seem less pleased with the Hell Machine’s actions.

“WE WANT TER-RENCE!”

“SHUT UP!” Janus roars at the New Mexico fans, and the first three rows do indeed quieten down as the monstrous Australian glowers over the top rope at them - but the rest of the arena is not so intimidated.

“JANUS SUCKS!”

The seething Hell Machine starts to shout back at his abusers, but he is cut off in his remonstrations as an arm shoots up between his legs and pulls him over backwards in a schoolboy pin!

“Liston!” Comet shouts. “The Demon is trying to sneak one!”

ONE!

...

TWO!!

...

KICKOUT!

Janus powers out of the pin, not even his own huge weight stacked up on his shoulders able to keep him down. But as the Hell Machine starts to rise again he is met with determined right hands to the face by Jimmy Liston, and although Liston’s win/loss record is not the best in the SWF he is still a very strong man, strong enough to make even Janus sit up and take notice...

*BAM!*

The punches thunder down on the kneeling Hell Machine, and Janus is starting to look a little hazy. Liston desperately keeps punching, knowing that if he stops he is going to really, really suffer.

*BAM!*

*BA-huh?*

Liston turns around to see who has grabbed his punching arm, and it is none other than referee Sexton Hardcastle! The official starts to explain in no uncertain terms about the use of a closed fist - and in the microsecond it takes the Demon to shake him off and turn back Janus is exploding upwards, right arm unfolding like the fury of Hell...

*WHAM!!*

“Knucklebomb!” Comet calls as Liston skids backwards across the canvas. “With Janus levelling people with one punch, who will be able to take his title from him?”

Casting a red glance around the ring Janus takes in the scene. Toxxic is on the apron again having more or less recovered from the Cortez superkick, although still looking a little woozy. Cortez is on all fours on the outside trying to dispel the ringing sensation in his ears after the Super Chicklet Buster, while his partner Van Siclen has headed outside to help him. Johnny Dangerous is back at his station and has his hand outstretched to Wildchild who is trying to pull himself upright on the ropes.

“On current showing; no-one,” Bobby Riley confirms.

Smirking sadistically, the towering Anti-Heel Machine makes his choice; and steps over the top rope before descending to the outside! Mike Van Siclen realises the danger and rushes to attack, but only runs headlong into an enormous boot to the face. Janus picks the struggling veteran up bodily and throws him through the ropes back into the ring before making to follow - but as he slides under the bottom rope, Wildchild launches a basement dropkick at the Hell Machine’s head!

*SMACK!!*

“Wildchild would probably be well-served to get out of there and tag in Operative Dangerous,” Comet declares as the Tropical Tumbler tries to rise again, “but his determination to get revenge for Janus’ earlier assault is-”

“-stupid,” Riley finishes as Janus reaches out a massive hand and simply shoves the Caribbean Cruiser away. The Hell Machine is slowing a little however, the various shots to the head having taken their toll. So as he continue his passage through the ropes he spends a little too long on his knees - and Mike Van Siclen dives in, snares Janus in a front facelock and then drives his face into the mat with the Code Red! Wildchild has got back to his feet and is about to run over for another attack on the Hell Machine when two strong arms lock around his waist. Liston gives a quick squeeze to knock the breath out of the Human Hurricane’s traumatised torso, then arches backwards...

*THUD!!*

“German suplex!” Riley exults as Wildchild lands HARD. “Hit ‘em hard, Liston, attack from behind and stay away from the psycho!”

“Commandments by which we can all live our lives, Robert,” Comet comments dryly. “But now I see that a certain Hardcore Gamer’s champion is going to risk his skin...”

Sure enough, Liston reaches out to tag in his partner, and the Straight-Edge Sensation hops into the ring. Psychological Warfare take a quick look over at where Van Siclen is trying to drag Janus away from the ropes in order to make a cover, decide they can risk it - and pick Wildchild up again. Both men throw on a front facelock, hook one arm behind one of the Bahaman Bomber’s legs and then hoist the dreadlocked cruiserweight up high before dropping him back down with the double Fisherman’s Buster known as the Trash Compactor!

*CRUNCH!!*

“And Wildchild just got ever shorter!” Riley yells. “Someone call the traction department!”

On the other side of the ring, Van Siclen manages to hook one of Janus’ huge legs...

ONE!

...

TWO!!

...

KICKOUT!

...but the Hell Machine is still full of fire, and moments after Hardcastle’s hand hits the mat for the second time Janus pumps a shoulder off the canvas. Glancing up, Van Siclen sees Todd Cortez has managed to pick himself off the floor and is waiting for a tag, so the veteran leans over and obliges. Both men take an arm and start to haul Janus to their corner...

...Liston suddenly charges across the ring and knocks the increasingly agitated Johnny Dangerous off the apron with a forearm smash...

...Aecas realises the danger and steps over the ropes, eyes fixed on Toxxic...

...Toxxic pulls the prone Wildchild halfway up into a Mexican Surfboard, but then leans forward and applies his favoured hammerlock/Dragon Sleeper combo...

...Liston cuts Aecas off with the Hunt, the Demon’s momentum driving the Black Angel back into his own corner...

...and Toxxic leans back, cinching The Bends in on the battered Wildchild.

“That hold won Toxxic the ICTV belt in his submissions match against the Insane Luchador!” Comet yells. “Wildchild - hold on!”

But in his short space of time in the ring Wildchild has taken some nasty shots to the head and body. Johnny Dangerous is momentarily down on the outside, Aecas and Liston are tangled in the Black Angel’s corner and the In-Crowd are merrily stomping a hole in Janus, completely unaware of the developments in the opposite corner. The Tropical Tumbler reaches his free left arm out, desperate to make the ropes - but it’s not happening. The agony in his body and head grows, he starts to feel faint as the blood ceases to flow to his brain... and with two falls yet to go and two titles yet to win, Wildchild takes the only sensible course.

*Tap-Tap-Tap!!*

*DING-DING!!*

“Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of the first fall and NEW SWF Intercontinental-Television Champion... TOXXX-XXXIIIC!!” Funyom booms over the jeers and boos of the New Mexico fans.

“Brilliant!” Bobby Riley crows. “He did them all! He’s now YOUR ICTV and Hardcore Gamer’s champion AGAIN, Comet!”

Astounded by what they’ve just heard, the In-Crowd turn away from their mugging of Janus and stare at the British punk as Sexton Hardcastle forces the new champion to release his hold on Wildchild. Cortez and Van Siclen exchange glances; then, as one man, they abandon the assault on the Hell Machine and charge across the ring towards the Straight-Edge Sensation! Toxxic sees them coming and tries to dive out of the ring - but the aching Wildchild stubbornly grabs his ankle, and try as he might the rookie can’t free himself. Moments later Cortez and Van Siclen fall upon him and, ignoring your fancy-schmancy wrestling holds, start to pound the living crap out of the man who cheated them both out of the ICTV belt.

*DING!-DING!*

“Well Citizens, the second fall is underway,” Comet announces.

“Because there was such an obvious break between the two,” Riley observes sardonically.

“Be that as it may Robert, this fall is for the Hardcore Gamer’s Championship, and that means one thing - HARDCORE RULES~!” the superhero bellows, causing Riley to tear his headphones from his head.

“Stop that!” he admonishes the enthusiastic masked man, his voice still picked up by the mouth mic as he points a furious finger. “It’s bad enough when you just shout your name-”

“I’m CYYYYCLLLLOOOOOOONNNNNNEEEEEE COMET!” Comet yells back.

“CUT THAT OUT! NOW!”

Back in the ring, Van Siclen hoists the bruised Toxxic up onto his shoulders. With a nod to Cortez, Van Siclen throws the Straight-Edge Sensation forwards and down in an Electric Chair drop - and as the Brit plummets towards the canvas, the Urban Legend catches him with the move known universally as the Stunner!

“Toxxic just got introduced to That Special Place!” Comet calls, ceasing his abuse of Bobby Riley. “And Citizens, once you’ve been there you’ll never forget it!”

As the legal man it falls to Cortez to make the cover of his fellow straight-edger. Van Siclen turns around to guard his partner - and gets wiped out by a spinning heelkick from a tagged-in Johnny Dangerous!

ONE!

...

[Dangerous and Van Siclen hit the mat together]

...

TWO!!

...

[Johnny scrambles up and dives forwards]

...

TWO-AND-A-QUARTER!!

...

[Johnny’s hands lock around Cortez’ waist]

...

TWO-AND-A-HALF!!

...

Johnny Dangerous rolls, pulling Todd Cortez away from his cover and breaking the count, just before-

*KER-SMASH!!*

-a lightube explodes on Toxxic’s chest where Cortez had been half a second previously! The weapon in question was wielded by Aecas, who doesn’t look that disappointed to have missed his original target.

“Wha-where’s Liston?” Riley asks anxiously as Toxxic rolls out of the ring, now bleeding from several lacerations on his chest. The camera cuts to a shot of Jimmy ‘The Demon’ Liston, now sitting propped-up against the ring on the arena floor and holding his head.

“Well, that answers your question Robert,” Comet observes as Aecas discards the end of his spent lightube. “The question now is; how did he get there?”

The shot shrinks and cuts away to the action currently taking place in the ring as another similarly-sized screen appears next to it. As Johnny Dangerous nails Aecas with a springboard dropkick, staggering the Black Angel back against the ropes, the replay starts.

[sWF DOUBLE FEATURE!]

Liston pulls back from where he has Hunted Aecas into the corner, looking pleased with himself, but is then attacked from behind by Janus as the Hell Machine staggers over from where the In-Crowd had been beating on him. The bell goes and the fall ends, and with Liston down on all fours Aecas steps back outside, checks to see that Hardcastle is looking and then tag himself in officially. Janus is still unsteady and not capable of arguing much, but as he rolls out to the floor he reaches into the shopping trolley and throws Aecas a flowerpot - which the Black Angel then cracks over the head of the Demon, before bundling his opponent over the top rope!

[sWF DOUBLE FEATURE!]

As the replay screen recedes it becomes clear that Johnny Dangerous is anxious to exact some revenge for that Yakuza kick earlier. The Barracuda unleashes a flurry of kicks at Aecas, forcing the Black Angel to shield himself with his arms. Most of the blows are blocked by Aecas’ forearms, but the big man is being pressed back against the ropes. Meanwhile, Todd Cortez has remembered that this fall is hardcore - and that means pinfalls count anywhere. With two of his opponents distracted the Urban Legend slips out to the floor in pursuit of Toxxic, eager to try and sneak a pinfall over the bleeding Brit. Toxxic was prepared for this fall, however, and with shards of glass still sticking to his chest the reigning Hardcore champ sticks one hand into a voluminous side pocket of his trousers - then brings it out again, lashing out at Cortez! The punch nails the Urban Legend in the temple, and to the crowd’s astonishment he slumps to the ground, apparently stunned!

“Brass knucks!” Riley calls as Toxxic drops to cover his opponent, not bothering to hide his weapon giving the nature of the fall. “Give Toxxic his credit, he knows how to play this game!”

Sexton Hardcastle comes skidding out of the ring and begins to count, as the Brit tries to sneak his second title of the night...

ONE!

...

TWO!!

...

TWO-AND-A-QUARTER!!

...

TWO-AND-A-HALF!!

...

TWO-AND-THREE-QUARTERS!!

...

KICKOUT!

“No!” Comet shouts as Cortez manages to get a shoulder off the mat. “Toxxic will have to try a little harder than that to defend his Hardcore belt!”

As the Straight-Edge Sensation angrily queries Hardcastle, Aecas and Johnny Dangerous are still going at it in the ring. Johnny lashes out with his left foot, trying to catch the Black Angel in the midsection - but Aecas grabs hold of the Barracuda’s boot in mid-swing, trapping him in a very compromising position. Raising his hand, Aecas calls to Janus - who throws him another plant pot! Aecas reaches back, ready to perform some terracotta phrenology on the secret agent in front of him, but Dangerous leaps into the air and brings his other foot round, nailing the Black Angel in the head with an enziguri!

*WHAP!!*

The force of the blow knocks Aecas to his knees; thinking quickly, Dangerous snares his opponent in a front facelock and drops backwards, driving Aecas’ head into the mat with a DDT! Rolling Aecas over, Johnny attempts a cover...

ONE!

...

TWO!!

...

...but it’s broken up by Toxxic, who followed Sexton Hardcastle back into the ring! The Straight-Edge Sensation hauls Johnny upright, but Dangerous immediately starts firing off chops and driving the rookie back! Johnny pushes Toxxic back to where Wildchild stands on the outside, but instead of tagging out Johnny merely whips his opponent diagonally across the ring towards the Unholy Trinity corner. Janus is on the arena floor, rummaging through the shopping trolley for further hardcore treats, and so there is no-one to welcome Toxxic in - but the straight-edger simply vaults up to the top rope anyway, before flying back at the Barracuda with a diving clothesline-

*WHAM!!*

-and gets dropkicked out of the air by everyone’s favourite Secret Agent!

“LET’S GO JOHN-NY!” *clap clap clap-clap-clap*

Dangerous smiles at the fans, but lets his guard down momentarily - and that is all the time that the returning Todd Cortez needs. Despite still feeling the effects of Toxxic’s brass knucks shot the Urban Legend is able to launch a sweep kick at Johnny’s legs, causing the Barracuda to land flat on his back. Dangerous kips straight back up again however, then slams a palm strike into Cortez’ chest! Cortez staggers back, then hits Dangerous with a palm strike of his own before grabbing the Barracuda’s wrist and whipping him towards the ropes - but Dangerous counters and sends the Urban Legend in instead. With the almost telepathic communication that has become the trademark of Wild & Dangerous Wildchild runs along the apron to the ropes behind Johnny, ready to springboard up and to hit the Silver Bullet from a Johnny back bodydrop - but Cortez holds onto the ropes, killing his own momentum! Cortez steps away from the cables and Johnny runs forward, ducks under a Cortez kick and comes up behind the Urban Legend, then tucks his head under Cortez’ left armpit, grabs his opponent’s right leg and hoists backwards, sending the straight-edger over the ropes with an MI Slam...

...but Cortez grabs the top rope as he goes over, and lands on the apron behind Johnny!

“Brilliant countering from both these men!” Comet gasps in delight.

Curious as to why he didn’t hear the impact of flesh on protective mats, Johnny turns - and Cortez blasts him in the face with a palm strike! Dangerous staggers back, but even as he does so Toxxic runs past him, vaults off the second turnbuckle of his own corner and goes sailing over the top rope looking to snare Cortez in a springboard hurricanrana...

...which Cortez ducks!

*WHAM!!*

“YOU FUCKED UP!”

The New Mexico crowd are unforgiving at Toxxic’s mistake, but the opinions of the fans are the last thing on Toxxic’s mind as he writhes on the arena floor. Meanwhile, Jimmy Liston has recovered from the plant pot shot he took earlier and moves over to help his partner as Cortez realises the precariousness of his position and steps back into the ring. Liston hauls Toxxic back to his feet - and Wildchild sprints all the way across the ring before leaping into the air, grabbing the top rope, pivoting in mid-air and then springboarding backwards away from the ring off the second rope in an Asai moonsault onto Psychological Warfare!

“HO-LY SHIT!”

Grabbing Johnny Dangerous around the neck from behind Todd Cortez drops to his knees, hitting the luckless Barracuda with the Cereal Killer. Then Cortez sees the bodies outside the ring, and the opportunity to hit one-and-a-half of the opposing teams in one go is too good to pass up. Grabbing hold of the top rope, Cortez vaults up - and over, in a Shooting Star Plancha onto Psychological Warfare and Wildchild, just as they’ve managed to pull themselves to their feet again!

“HO-LY SHIT!”

“All four of those men are down on the outside now!” Comet yells. “But they’re still trying to get up! What more can happen here?”

“You had to ask, didn’t you?” Riley mutters as Janus steps back into the ring.

Aecas is getting back to his feet now, but as he does so he finds himself face-to-face with Janus. The Hell Machine stares at his partner for a second - then points to the cluster of struggling bodies next to the entrance ramp. And grins. And a moment later, Aecas grins back.

The chanting in the University Arena starts to get a bit more ragged and interspersed with cheers as Janus garbs his partner and hoists him high into the air! Arms trembling slightly from the effort, the Hell Machine walks over to the ropes and looks down at his enemies, all trying to stand. Janus doesn’t normally care about playing to the fans, but flattening a bunch of his opponents by throwing his tag partner seems fine to him. So he heaves with all his unnatural strength...

*KRUMP!!*

“RAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRR!!”

“ESS-DUB-EFF!!”

“JANUS JUST PRESS-SLAMMED AECAS ONTO TODD CORTEZ, WILDCHILD AND PSYCHOLOGICAL WARFARE!” Comet screams, nearly having an aneurysm.

“And he’s not even the legal man!” Riley shouts back. “Actually, fuck that - Janus isn’t legal! Period!”

The grinning Hell Machine stands triumphantly in the middle of the ring, chuckling to himself as he views the devastation he has wrought. It’s at times like these that Janus truly feels alive, truly feels-

*CRACK!!*

-like he’s just been hit in the back of the head by a chair.

*CRACK!!*

The second shot comes as the big Australian is stumbling forwards, and knocks the Hell Machine down to one knee. Janus turns, trying to see who is attacking him-

*CRACK!!*

-and ‘The Spectacle’ Mike Van Siclen almost takes his face off with the third and most brutal swing yet!

“You forgot about Van Siclen didn’t you, you overgrown psycho!” Riley yells at Janus as the Hell Machine falls forwards. “You show him, Mike!”

“In fact, Robert, Mike Van Siclen is the only competitor still standing,” Comet comments. “Unfortunately for him, he isn’t a legal man and therefore can’t make a pin!”

Van Siclen has had a brainwave, though. Johnny Dangerous is still suffering from the Cereal Killer, so the Spectacle grabs one of his arms and hauls the stunned secret agent over to the In-Crowd’s corner - where he promptly steps outside the ropes, grabs the tag rope, checks Sexton Hardcastle is paying attention and then tags himself in!

“It’s happened!” Comet exclaims as the newly-legal Van Siclen re-enters the ring. “Now two members from the same team are legal, and that means that either Todd Cortez or Mike Van Siclen could win the Hardcore Gamer’s title!”

“And Wild & Dangerous currently have nobody who can!” Riley exults. “Just as it should be!”

Grinning at his own cleverness, Van Siclen drops down to hook the leg of Johnny Dangerous...

...and Hardcastle just looks at him.

“Er, Mike,” Riley points out, “if you’ve tagged yourself in on him then he’s no longer pinnable...”

Van Siclen has evidently come to the same conclusion himself - all the active competitors are outside the ring. Grabbing his chair again the Spectacle takes another swipe at the stirring Janus-

*CRACK!!*

-and marches over to the ropes. Meanwhile on the arena floor, the men in the pile of bodies are starting to sort themselves out. Aecas isn’t used to falling fifteen feet to an arena floor, even with a bunch of opponents to break his fall, but the Black Angel is still in the best shape of them all (he hasn’t had 315lbs of hardcore whackjob fall on him from fifteen feet up, for one thing). Scattering the rest of his opponents, Aecas grabs Toxxic by the back of his head and propels him into the ring apron. The Straight-Edge Sensation’s ribs hit hard, but before Aecas can follow up Mike Van Siclen rolls under the bottom rope and charges at him with his steel chair-

*SMACK!!*

-only to have it Yakuza-kicked back into his face! Ignoring the now-bleeding Spectacle, Aecas pulls up the ring apron and reaches under, before pulling out a table! Meanwhile Wildchild climbs over the guard rail, seemingly trying to get away from the slugfest that’s broken out between Liston and Cortez - but as the Urban Legend scores with a superkick right into the Demon’s jaw Wildchild runs back, jumps off the railing and takes Cortez over with a hurricanrana!

“This match has gone right to Hell!” Comet yells. “There is no way that these eight men can be controlled in a hardcore environment!”

“Who wants to control them?” Riley asks. “Best just to let them get on with it, in my opinion. Besides, what’s Hardcastle going to do - disqualify them?”

Aecas sends the table sliding into the ring before grabbing Toxxic by the neck and the back of his trousers and sending him in after it. Meanwhile Janus has started to push himself up again, but as he reaches one knee Johnny Dangerous comes sailing past, grabbing the Hell Machine’s head and driving it into the mat with a bulldog! The battered Barracuda gets back up again, looking to inflict more punishment on his huge opponent - but Aecas shoots across the ring and takes Johnny Dangerous out with a GORE~!

On the outside, Wildchild squares off against Todd Cortez. Knowing that he can’t match the straight-edger for speed or striking power, Wildchild watches his opponent carefully - then ducks under a roundhouse kick from the Urban Legend and darts behind him. Cortez twists, trying to follow his slippery opponent, and Wildchild boots him in the stomach before nailing him with the Caribbean Cutter!

“Caribbean Cutter on the steel entrance ramp!” Comet yells. “That’ll break your head, Citizens!”

Wildchild isn’t having it all his own way however, because he turns back round into a Jimmy Liston clothesline! The mighty Demon sends the Tropical Tumbler sprawling, then grabs his opponent’s legs and tries to twist Wildchild over into a Boston crab! Wildchild desperately fights the move, trying to resist - and with annoyance showing on his face Liston drags the dreadlocked cruiser further up the ramp and falls backwards, catapulting Wildchild forwards INTO SOME BARBED WIRE-WRAPPED SANDBAGS!

“HO-LY SHIT!”

“I knew the decor would come in handy for something!” Riley yells as Wildchild slumps backwards, bleeding from a dozen wounds on his head and torso. “This truly is a Battleground, Comet!”

Having casually disposed of one opponent Liston turns his attention to the groggy Cortez. Liston knows that he can tag himself in and become a legal man if he follows the rules, and the Urban Legend is in no mood to deny him. So the Demon grabs the stunned straight-edger and starts to drag him towards the ring, trying to avoid the slowly recovering Mike Van Siclen.

With Johnny Dangerous taken care of once more, Aecas stands back to admire his handiwork. The SWF’s resident secret agent is lying on the floor, holding his ribcage and wheezing noticeably, but he really doesn’t look all that good there; it kind of makes the ring look messy. So the Black Angel boots Dangerous in the gut and sends him slithering out to the floor under the bottom rope. Aecas turns away and finds Janus starting to stand, so with a promise of an imminent tag he persuades the big Australian to make his way out to the apron once more and then turns back to his original focus; the man who beat him for the Hardcore Gamer’s title at From The Fire.

But Toxxic is ready for him now.

*CHING!!*

“Low blow!” Comet screams as Toxxic slams his forearm up into Aecas’ happy-happy-joy-joy area.

“And you know what comes next, Comet!” Riley laughs as the Straight-Edge Sensation desperately casts around for something to give him the advantage - and his eyes light on the stub of the lightube that Aecas hit him with earlier.

“No, not this again!” Comet pleads. “Aecas’ mouth didn’t heal for-”

But the heroic commentator is cut off as Toxxic brings his arm up - and Aecas grabs his wrist!

“RAAAAAAAARRRRRRRR!!”

Grinning like a shark, Aecas hauls Toxxic to his feet and twists his opponent’s wrist, causing the lightube to drop from the Straight-Edge Sensation’s black-nailed fingers. Then the Black Angel reaches back with one huge hand - and slaps the goozle around Toxxic’s neck!

“TRI-NI-TY!”

With barely any visible effort, Aecas hoists Toxxic into the air and brings him SLAMMING down across one knee with a vicious Chokebreaker! Content that the current double champion is out of commission for the moment, Aecas picks up his table and starts setting it up...

...while Jimmy Liston rolls the groggy Todd Cortez into the ring not ten feet away! Eyeing the Black Angel warily Liston jumps up to his corner, grabs his tag rope and tags himself in off the Urban Legend. Sexton Hardcastle acknowledges the tag, and Liston looks around for a potential victim. He doesn’t want to mess with Aecas and that precludes trying to get the pin on his own tag partner Toxxic as well... so that means that the last legal man is Mike Van Siclen.

On the outside of the ring the Spectacle staggers upright, blood still streaming from the cut on his head where Aecas Yakuza-kicked the chair into his head. Further up the ramp he sees Wildchild, trying grimly to get back to his bare feet, but no sign of any other competitor. Van Siclen turns - and gets blasted off his feet as Jimmy Liston comes off the apron with a diving clothesline!

In the ring, Aecas has finished setting up the table. With the sadistic smile still on his face the Black Angel picks Toxxic up and hurls the Straight-Edge Sensation bodily into Wild & Dangerous’ corner - but with Wildchild bleeding on the entrance ramp and the Barracuda trying to regain his breath on the outside it’s deserted. Aecas charges in, looking to crush Toxxic against the turnbuckles - but the double champion moves, twisting away from the black-and-white painted monstrosity at the last second...

...Wildchild pushes himself up, staggering as his head swims. The Tropical Tumbler has taken brutal beatings from his opponents so far, but he knows that down at the ring Johnny Dangerous must need him. Putting a hand up to his forehead, Wildchild investigates the strange wet sensation - and as he takes his fingers away, the barefooted cruiser sees the colour of blood. His own blood...

...at the ring edge, Liston picks Van Siclen up and hooks him for a suplex - but the canny veteran blocks it! Pulling away, MVS slams his knee into Liston’s gut and doubles the Demon over. Looking around, Van Siclen sees the chair that split his head open on the mats behind him, and a nasty smile twists the veteran’s lips. Van Siclen bends down and places his head between Liston’s legs, looking for the deadly back-to-belly piledriver known as the Van Slaminator...

...Toxxic hits Aecas with a European uppercut, desperate to subdue his huge opponent, but Aecas is having none of it. The big man fires back with a right hand, then grabs Toxxic’s wrist, whirls around the Straight-Edge Sensation and FIRES him across the ring towards the Trinity corner before following him in. But Toxxic has been here before, and does the only thing he knows by springing up to the top turnbuckle...

...but last time, Janus wasn’t standing in attendance, waiting for his tag.

And this time, Janus casually grabs one of Toxxic’s legs and pulls, causing the straight-edger to slip and crotch himself on the top rope.

“OOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHH!!”

Aecas arrives at his own corner and, ignoring Janus’ demands to be tagged in, turns to face away from it and grabs Toxxic under his arms, pulling the Straight-Edge Sensation onto his shoulders in a powerbomb position...

...on the outside, Mike Van Siclen starts to lift, but Liston’s eyes widen as he feels his feet leave the ground and the Demon smashes a clubbing forearm into his opponent’s back. Van Siclen gives out a grunt of pain and ceases his efforts - and Liston wraps both arms around the Spectacle’s waist and hoists him up in a powerbomb position of his own!

“Citizens Toxxic and Van Siclen are both in trouble here!” Comet calls.

“Get off him, you big freak!” Riley shouts at the unheeding Aecas.

With images of From The Fire whirling through his head Aecas tightens his grip around Toxxic’s waist - and CRUSHES the straight-edger against the mat with a brutal powerbomb! But the Black Angel isn’t finished, and he hoists Toxxic up again...

...Liston braces himself, and with a massive heave he throws Van Siclen off forwards, grabbing the Spectacle’s head and driving it down...

...Down...

...DOWN...

...ONTO THE STEEL CHAIR!

“DESCENT!” Comet yells. “Liston just hit his finisher onto a steel chair!”

In the ring, Aecas slams Toxxic down with a second powerbomb! The Black Angel is dimly aware of Janus shouting something at him, but Aecas is finally, finally getting his revenge for From The Fire. And nothing is going to stop him now. Gritting his teeth, he brings Toxxic’s limp body up one more time - and this time, he flips the straight-edger over his shoulders in a Fireman’s carry position.

“And that psycho is about to hit the Gravedigger on Toxxic!” Riley screams like a little girl. “Someone stop him!”

Referee Hardcastle stands in the ring, looking between Aecas and Liston, wondering which one will need his services first...

...and Liston hooks Van Siclen’s leg.

Hardcastle skids out of the ring and slaps his palm down...

ONE!

...

[Oblivious, Aecas takes a step towards the table he prepared earlier]

...

TWO!!

...

TWO-AND-A-QUARTER!!

...

[Wildchild starts to run down the entrance ramp as fast as his battered body can take him]

...

TWO-AND-A-HALF!!

...

[Janus curses Aecas’ name and jumps down to the arena floor, seeking to break the pin up himself]

...

TWO-AND-THREE-QUARTERS!!

...

[Aecas starts to shrug Toxxic off his shoulders]

...

THHHRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!

*DING-DING!!*

*KKEEEEERRRRRRR-RRRUUNNNNCCCCCCCHHHHHHH!!*

*DING-DING-DING-DING!!*

“RRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRR!!”

the.weej · April 26, 2004

Several things happen at once. Liston is hit in the back by a double axehandle from Wildchild, and in the face by Janus’ boot, but they are too late to break the count. And in the ring, the cameras focus on the broken body of Toxxic, the victim of a double powerbomb followed by a Death Valley Driver through a table. Aecas sits in the splinters, apparently uncaring about the fact that the fall has finished.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of this fall and NEW SWF Hardcore Gamer’s Champion.. JIMMY... ‘THE DEMON’... LIIIIIIISSSST-OOOONNNNNN!!” Funyon booms - but he is almost drowned out by the chants.

“HO-LY SHIT!”

“TRI-NI-TY!”

“HO-LY SHIT!”

“TRI-NI-TY!”

“HO-LY SHIT!”

“TRI-NI-TY!”

“Someone call 911!” Bobby Riley bawls as Sexton Hardcastle slides back into the ring, aghast at the carnage that took place in the few seconds he was otherwise occupied. “For the love of God, SOMEONE CALL 9...1...1!!”

Aecas pushes himself to his feet, an unshakeable smile playing over his black-painted lips. Sexton Hardcastle starts to berate the Black Angel, but is then distracted by the action on the outside and slides out to try and separate Janus, Wildchild and Liston.

“Robert, I...” Comet trails off. “Aecas wasn’t even looking to pin Toxxic there, I don’t think. I can only assume he was trying to injure him.”

“Oh, y’THINK!?” Riley snarls. “If I had my way Aecas and Janus would both be fired! They’re just too damn dangerous!”

Jet has come into the ring to check on her boyfriend, but although Toxxic is moving slightly he’s very obviously in a bad way. Having forced the three competitors brawling on the outside to stop, Hardcastle yells something down at the timekeeper and within a few seconds a medical crew come running out from the backstage area. They quickly load the Straight-Edge Sensation onto a stretcher - and all the time Aecas just looks on and admires his handiwork. Finally Toxxic is taken up the ramp, Jet anxiously by his side and now clutching the ICTV belt that her boyfriend won earlier in the evening.

“A truly unfortunate development here tonight Citizens,” Comet announces solemnly as the new ICTV champion disappears through the curtains. “I’m sure that all believers in Justice were hoping that Aecas would get his revenge on the man who abused him so vilely at From The Fire, but I never thought the Black Angel would go this far.”

“What have I been telling you Comet, the man is a complete Grade-A nutjob!” Riley seethes. “And he’s standing in that ring, with as good a chance of walking out here tag team champion as anyone else! It makes me sick!”

*DING-DING!*

“And with that bell, the third and final fall begins!” Comet declares. “The legal men are - technically - Aecas, Mike Van Siclen, Jimmy Liston and Toxxic. I don’t think we’re going to see Toxxic again however!”

Mike Van Siclen isn’t exactly in great shape either, having just taken a Descent onto a chair. He is in the ring though, propping himself up on the ropes. Meanwhile, both members of Wild & Dangerous are standing in their corner, neither one legal in the match due to the odd nature of previous tags. Jimmy Liston is backed into his own corner, the new Hardcore Gamer’s Champion but without any backup. And standing tall, staring around at them all with wild white eyes, is Aecas.

“Comet, I believe Janus is less than pleased that Aecas was too busy with his own vendetta in the last fall,” Riley speculates as the Hell Machine leans over the top rope and yells at his erstwhile partner. “They’ve lost one belt and missed the chance to gain another - this is their last chance to walk out of here with anything!”

Indeed, Janus seems most displeased. Aecas turns to stare at him - then walks over and calmly makes the tag, unleashing the rage of the big Australian onto the other two cometitors!

“Well, Aecas seems satisfied now,” Comet says as Janus steps over the top rope, red eyes blazing. “I guess it’s Janus’ turn.”

The Hell Machine stares first at the wobbling Mike Van Siclen; then beyond him to the worried Jimmy Liston. A memory rises up in the back of Janus’ mind - not his own memory, but one belonging to the man known as Terrence Bailey. A memory of blocking the path of Toxxic, only to be felled by a low blow. Janus’ mouth twists into a grim smile, and he starts to advance on the Demon.

“Get out of there, Liston!” Riley yells...

...and the Demon obeys with alacrity! Shooting out of his own corner Liston darts towards the surprised Wildchild, who automatically holds his hand out for the tag - and gets it! Liston slides beneath the ropes and heads over to the timekeeper’s table to collect his hard-earned Hardcore Gamer’s title and then flees for the backstage area, leaving Wildchild and Mike Van Siclen to face the wrath of the Hell Machine!

“Citizen Liston making tracks,” Comet notes as Wildchild cautiously steps through the ropes. “And that leaves us with the Unholy Trinity, Wild & Dangerous and the In-Crowd; the three teams who have been tag team champions. Personally Robert, I feel that Psychological Warfare never had a place in this fall, and now we’re back down to the three teams who deserve to be here.”

Bobby Riley declines to comment (for once), but Janus is quick to show his opinion on who deserves to be in the title match by turning and grabbing the shaky Mike Van Siclen by the throat before the battered Spectacle can move, then hoisting him up over his head in a press slam! The Hell Machine grins as his walks towards the ropes, preparing to throw Mike Van Siclen clean over the top and out to the floor...

...but not wanting to be left alone, Wildchild barrels into the back of the big Australian, rolling along the floor and taking out the backs of his knees! Janus falls backwards and Van Siclen is just able to land on his feet, before dropping a knee onto Janus’ head. The Hell Machine yells in pain, rolls over onto his front and starts to get up - but as he gets up to his knees Wildchild comes off the ropes behind him and flips over him, taking Janus back down again with the Whiplash! But the Hell Machine is one tough S.O.B and Janus starts to rise once more - only for Wildchild to smash into his jaw with a basement dropkick!

“Citizen Wildchild really using his speed to his advantage here,” Comet calls, “but how long can he keep this assault up?”

“He’s going to have help, Comet!” Riley shouts. “Van Siclen has tagged in the Urban Legend!”

Sure enough, Todd Cortez is now the In-Crowd’s legal man, but the man from ‘The Streets’ makes no attempt to attack Wildchild, the man who won the tag titles off him - instead he starts to stomp on Janus’ back, evidently seeking to remove the Hell Machine as a threat!

“Come on Cortez, you don’t need to help him!” Riley yells. “You can take that big lump of psychosis on your own!”

“Actually Robert, I think that this apparent teamwork between Wild & Dangerous and the In-Crowd might be a very wise move,” Comet replies. “In a long match such as this, two giants such as Aecas and Janus will have greater stamina than any of their opponents, no matter how well-conditioned. In the long haul, they will likely remain freshest and so it makes good sense to try and isolate one of them.”

“You’ve got an answer for everything,” Riley grumbles as Cortez continues to stomp away.

Wildchild seizes Todd Cortez’ arm, but instead of attacking him the Caribbean Cruiser merely speaks urgently to the Urban Legend. Reaching down, both men take hold of Janus’ head - then start to pull him upright!

“Now I’m not sure that this is such a wise move...” Comet muses.

“Don’t let him up you morons!” Bobby Riley concurs.

Wildchild and Cortez hook the big man in a double front facelock, then throw one of his arms over each of their shoulders. They pause for a moment - then with all their combined strength, just manage to hoist the Hell Machine up and over in a vertical suplex!

*WHAM!!*

It’s not often that someone can suplex Janus, and the big Australian lands right on the back that Cortez had been busily attacking earlier. His face contorts with pain as his sits back up, but the unlikely teaming haven’t finished with him yet. Wildchild and Cortez bring him up to his feet again, although they continually fire off right hands to his head in order to keep the Hell Machine’s fires subdued. Janus is slowly driven back onto the ropes that stretch between the Wild & Dangerous corner and where Toxxic and Liston were, and Wildchild reaches over and tags in Johnny Dangerous before combining with Cortez to whip Janus to the opposite side. Janus lumbers across the ring as Wildchild slips outside the ropes, and as the Hell Machine rebounds the slim shape of the Urban Legend stands waiting for him...

*CRACK!!*

...with a vicious superkick! The blow hits Janus in the jaw and kills the big man’s momentum - and in that second Johnny Dangerous and Wildchild leap off their turnbuckle and take him DOWN with a double shoulderblock!

“LET’S GO DUB-CEE!” *clap clap clap-clap-clap*

“LET’S GO JOHN-NY!” *clap clap clap-clap-clap*

“LET’S GO DUB-CEE!” *clap clap clap-clap-clap*

“LET’S GO JOHN-NY!” *clap clap clap-clap-clap*

Wildchild grins as the New Mexico crowd start to get behind him and his partner, but Sexton Hardcastle is quickly in his face to remind him that his place is now on the outside of the ring. In the meantime, Todd Cortez has dived on top of Janus and hooked his leg, waiting for Hardcastle to turn round...

ONE!

...

TWO!!

...

...broken up by Johnny Dangerous! The super-spy plants his boot into the side of Todd Cortez’ head, knocking the Urban Legend sprawling - then drops down and covers Janus himself!

ONE!

...

TWO!!

...

KICKOUT!

Janus fires a shoulder off the canvas to deny his opponents once more, but this time there is no immediate attempt to rise despite Aecas’ yells from the apron. Keeping a careful eye on the massive Australian, Johnny Dangerous decides to pursue Todd Cortez instead. Cortez is still trying to shake the cobwebs loose from the boot Johnny delivered to his head, and so he is relatively unresisting when the Barracuda hoists him up in a Firemans’ carry. Looking around, Johnny points across the ring towards his tag partner - then runs forward and somersaults over, planting Cortez backfirst into the canvas! The Urban Legend gasps on the mat as the breath is driven from his lungs and Johnny Dangerous makes the tag back to Wildchild, who in one fluid motion vaults to the top rope, facing away from the ring - then leaps out backwards whilst spinning forward, coming down in the Falling Star Press!

*WHAM!!*

But Cortez manages to get his knees up! Wildchild rolls away clutching his ribcage and Cortez struggles to pull himself up on the ropes. Johnny Dangerous reaches over to grab the straight-edger, but Cortez slams a palm strike into the side of the Barracuda’s head and knocks him clean off the apron! Wheezing, Cortez collapses against the Wild & Dangerous turnbuckles in an attempt to get his breath back - only to see Janus starting to get back to his feet! A grin splits Janus’ face as he sees the breathless Urban Legend and the Hell Machine lowers his shoulder and charges, seeking to crush Cortez further with a GORE~!

*WHAM!!*

But Cortez dodges him, and Janus slams his right shoulder straight into the steel ringpost! Seeing his chance, Cortez grabs hold of Janus and hauls him away from the turnbuckle, locks a dragon sleeper in with his left arm, grabs Janus’ right arm with his own in an armbar and then falls backwards, locking his legs around the Hell Machine’s body!

“Sweet Dreams!” Comet cries as Cortez starts to tighten the hold. “Citizen Cortez has inverted the hold in order to put pressure on that right shoulder than Janus just rammed into the ringpost - Robert, we could see Janus tap here!”

“And what a sweet ending it would be!” Riley exults. “I’d love to see that psycho tap to my man from The Streets!”

“I thought you were supporting Psychological Warfare?” Comet inquires.

“If one man leaves, you pick another.”

Janus is hurt, true, but the Hell Machine’s fires are not burning that low yet. Cortez struggles to keep hold of his huge opponent’s right arm, and Janus starts to use his left to push them both towards the ropes. The big man reaches out with his right leg, trying to hook one boot over the bottom cable, but he still can’t quite reach... and then Wildchild springboards off the second rope and drops a fist right onto Todd Cortez’ head!

“Wildchild may have saved the match for his team there!” Comet calls as the Urban Legend releases his hold and rolls away, clutching his forehead. “Although I’m sure the Tropical Tumbler has no objection to Janus being worn down a little, he couldn’t afford to risk the big man tapping!”

“That’s the thing about submissions in a match like this,” Riley agrees. “If someone is pinned you have three seconds to get there - if someone is in a submission hold, you don’t know when they’re going to tap!”

Cortez is on all fours, clutching at his head, but Wildchild follows up immediately. He dives forward and grabs the Urban Legend around the shoulders, bringing him over onto his back with an Oklahoma roll...

ONE!

...

TWO!!

...

TWO-AND-A-QUARTER!!

...

TWO-AND-A-HALF!!

...

...KICKOUT!

“Not yet!” Riley yells. “C’mon Cortez, take him down!”

But Todd Cortez hasn’t got the speed to match Wildchild, and the Bahaman Bomber squirms away from him and makes for the ropes. Cortez turns in a half-circle, looking for his opponent... and finds him, as Wildchild springboards to the top rope from the apron and launches himself through the air, snaring the Urban Legend in a front facelock and bringing him crashing down to the mat with the Presumed Guilty! Wildchild rolls Cortez onto his back and hooks the leg, desperate to keep the tag titles in his grasp...

ONE!

...

TWO!!

...

TWO-AND-A-QUARTER!!

...

TWO-AND-A-HALF!!

...

TWO-AND-THREE-QUARTERS!!

...

BROKEN UP BY JANUS!

“BBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”

“The fans want Wild & Dangerous to retain, there’s no doubt about that!” Comet cries. “They might have supported Terrence Bailey - but not the Hell Machine!”

Janus isn’t worried what the pathetic mewling fans of New Mexico think though. Bending down, the big Australian picks Wildchild up in a front facelock of his own, then grabs the back of the cruiserweight’s costume and pulls him up before SPIKING him on his head with the Everdream DDT! Grabbing the Caribbean Cruiser’s legs, Janus folds them over his opponent’s head and looks for the pin...

ONE!

...

TWO!!

...

TWO-AND-A-QUARTER!!

...

TWO-AND-A-HALF!!

...

TWO-AND-THREE-QUARTERS!!

...

TWO-AND-NINE-TENTHS!!

...

BROKEN UP BY MIKE VAN SICLEN!

The crowd seem uncertain whether to cheer or boo at the fact that the Spectacle broke the count, but either way Van Siclen is intent on saving the match and the chance to regain the tag straps. Janus regains his feet - but Van Siclen grabs his head in both hands and drops down, dealing the Hell Machine a thunderous jawbreaker! Janus topples back and falls, and seizing his opportunity Van Siclen grabs both legs and rips them apart with a wishbone!

“OOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

“Make a wish, you oversized lump of kangaroo excrement!” Bobby Riley screams on commentary, surely sealing his own death should Janus ever purchase the ‘SWF Battleground 2004’ DVD at a later date.

Sexton Hardcastle gets in Van Siclen’s face, ordering the Spectacle in no uncertain terms to leave the ring - but before Van Siclen can move two huge, strong hands hoist him into the air and he finds himself draped across Aecas’ shoulders in a Burning Hammer position! Aecas looks for the Betrayer, but Todd Cortez shakes the cobwebs caused by the Presumed Guilty, darts across the ring and fires a basement dropkick into the Black Angel’s knee. Aecas stumbles and Mike Van Siclen lands safely on his feet - then he and Cortez both grab Aecas in a front facelock and DDT the Brit on his head!

“It’s all breaking down here!” Comet asserts as Johnny Dangerous jumps the ropes into the ring. “Sexton Hardcastle needs to regain control, but I’m not sure he can!”

“The tag titles are on the line, Comet!” Riley states. “These men aren’t going to hang around on the outside and watch their partners get destroyed, they want the belts!”

Dangerous lands a clubbing forearm onto the back of Van Siclen, but Cortez cuts the Barracuda off with a palm strike to the chest. The In-Crowd grab Dangerous and whip him across the ring, then look for a double clothesline as the secret agent rebounds - but Dangerous ducks underneath, hits the far ropes and comes back with a flying double clothesline of his own, taking both men down! Janus is pushing himself up, clutching at his groin - but Dangerous nails him in the head with an enziguri, sending the Hell Machine crashing back to the canvas again. Wildchild is struggling up, holding his head from the Everdream DDT, and he joins the Barracuda in the middle of the ring. Each man picks up a member of the In-Crowd and looks out at the crowd, who rise in their seats in response. A tag-team finisher would take too much setting up, and there are too many other men to break up the count. So as Wildchild doubles Cortez over with a kick and hooks him for the Wild Ride, Johnny slips behind Van Siclen and prepares to bring him up and over with the MI Slam...

...but Van Siclen slips out of the MI Slam and lands on his feet behind the startled Barracuda...

...and at the apex of the move Cortez kicks his legs, falling forwards and landing on his feet behind Wildchild! Although his arms are wrenched in their sockets the Urban Legend twists free...

...Dangerous turns to get to grips with Van Siclen, but the veteran slips behind his opponent once more and brings him crashing down with the Red Light...

“STOP!”

...Wildchild turns and launches himself into the air, looking for a leg lariat - but Cortez catches him around the throat in mid-air and drives him DOWN with the Urban Assault! The straight-edger hooks the leg, looking to win his second tag championship in only his third SWF match...

ONE!

...

TWO!!

...

TWO-AND-A-QUARTER!!

...

TWO-AND-A-HALF!!

...

TWO-AND-THREE-QUARTERS!!

...

TWO-AND-NINE-TENTHS!!

...

THHHHRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEE-NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!

BROKEN UP BY AECAS AND JANUS!

Cortez rolls off the pin having been kicked in the head by two boots at once, but with an obvious target Sexton Hardcastle jumps in, waving his arms and ordering Aecas to leave the ring. The Black Angel is unwilling to oblige, but he is not Janus and he is not prepared to swat an official aside without some serious provocation. So Aecas starts to argue back - and as he does so Van Siclen attacks Janus from behind! The blow to the back only staggers the Hell Machine slightly, but then Van Siclen and Cortez both stand in front of Janus, hook their legs behind his and bring the big Australian CRASHING down with a Double STO!

“Come on Cortez, you can win this!” Riley yells, but the In-Crowd are smarter than to go for another pin whilst Aecas is still upright. Brushing Hardcastle aside themselves, both men plant their boots into the Black Angel’s midsection and hook him in a front facelock. The In-Crowd start to lift... but Aecas hooks his leg behind Van Siclen’s! The two men try again, but Aecas is simply too big to lift when he’s resisting. Alarmed, Van Siclen and Cortez try and pull back, but Aecas’ enormous arms tighten around their respective heads and with an amazing display of strength the Black Angel brings BOTH men up himself! The In-Crowd rise into the air, pause vertical for a moment...

...and then Aecas brings them both down...

...WITH A DOUBLE BRAINBUSTER!

*CRASH!!*

“He’s killed them!” Riley wails. “Lock that psycho up!”

“They’re not dead yet, Robert,” Comet argues, “although I’m not sure how long that will be true for!”

Janus is stirring, the huge man still unwilling to stay down. Grimly, Aecas grabs his shoulder and helps his monstrous partner up. Janus staggers over to the far ropes and leans against them, and Aecas grabs Todd Cortez’ legs, turns the straight-edger around so the Black Angel is facing away from the Hell Machine... and tucks one leg under each arm.

“Robert, if you’re at all fond of Todd Cortez, I suggest you look away now...” Comet suggests.

Grinning out at the crowd, Aecas falls backwards. Cortez flies up and forwards as the Black Angel’s knees act as a fulcrum, catapulting the straight-edger RIGHT INTO A GORE~! FROM JANUS!

“SOUL CRUSHER!!” Comet roars as the Hell Machine BLASTS straight into the Urban Legend’s ribcage. “Janus just mutilated Todd Cortez!”

All the double-teaming from earlier has weakened the Hell Machine, but not enough to prevent him from completing the job. Grimacing, Janus hooks the leg of Todd Cortez and brings all of his 360lbs to bear on the straight-edger’s shoulders as Sexton Hardcastle drops down to count...

ONE!

...

[Johnny Dangerous, still groggy from the Red Light, gets to his feet and tries to scramble over to break the pin]

...

TWO!!

...

TWO-AND-A-QUARTER!!

...

TWO-AND-A-HALF!!

...

[Aecas TAKES JOHNNY’S HEAD CLEAN OFF WITH A YAKUZA KICK!]

...

TWO-AND-THREE-QUARTERS!!

...

TWO-AND-NINE-TENTHS!!

...

THHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!

*DING-DING!!*

“Ladies and gentlemen, the winners of the third fall,” Funyon’s voice booms out as Hardcastle’s hand comes down for the third and final time, “and NEW SWF Tag Team Champions; Aecas and Janus, THE UNNNN-HOOOOLLL-EEEEE TRRRRRIINN-IIIITEEEEEEEE!!”

’LET FREEDOM RING WITH A SHOTGUN BLAST!’

Sexton Hardcastle slides back into the ring with the tag belts in his hand as ‘Davidian’ blasts out of the speakers in the University Arena. The referee goes to hand one to Janus, but the Hell Machine simply snatches it away.

“Well Robert, we have new tag champs yet again!” Comet exclaims as Hardcastle hands Aecas his strap in turn. “The In-Crowd and Wild & Dangerous fought hard, but in the end the greater strength and stamina of these two men won through!”

“Is it possible for anyone to hold these belts for more than one show?” Riley asks in disbelief.

“I take that to mean that we have a thriving and competitive tag division, my faithful sidekick!” Comet returns. “We’re not seeing anything like the domination of Justice and Rule, or even Wild & Dangerous’ first reign; no-one can rest on their laurels here in the SWF!”

Janus pushes himself up to his feet and comes face to face with the dead white eyes of his tag partner. The two men stare at each other for a second - then turn out and face the crowd, each one raising his title belt overhead in his right hand!

“TRI-NI-TY!”

New Mexico may distrust Janus, but the Black Angel is still popular - and after all, the victory was won over Todd Cortez and not a member of Wild & Dangerous.

“Comet, you seem to be overlooking the fact that all three belts in this match changed hands,” Riley points out, choosing to ignore the superhero’s ‘sidekick’ comment. “Toxxic is ICTV Champion for the second time, and his Hardcore Gamer’s belt was taken by none other than Jimmy Liston!”

“And my congratulations go out to them as well - along with my sincerest wishes that they mend their ways and become defenders of Justice!” Comet booms. “I only wonder if Toxxic will be well enough to defend his new title, especially since Janus may well come a-hunting for it!”

“Do you think that sick freak cares whether or not Toxxic is well?” Riley asks incredulously. “Aecas didn’t, and he’s supposed to be the nice one!”

“Well, no. No, I don’t,” Comet admits. “But perhaps Toxxic should have thought of that before he annoyed the Trinity.” Ignoring his partner’s splutterings, Comet turns to face the camera.

“Citizens, we have seen some truly amazing sights in this match,” the superhero beams, slipping effortlessly into ‘Pimp’ mode, “but they could fade into nothing compared to what is to come! Forget Death Valley Drivers through tables and Shooting Star Planchas - this next match is all about history, all about hatred and all about... well, revenge, obsession, drugs and insanity, to tell the truth, not to mention blue hair dye...”

“Tell me Comet, have Madison Avenue called you to do voice-overs yet?” Riley asks sarcastically.

“Nathaniel Kibagami! Our stand-in Commissioner Alexander Zenon! A Last Man Standing Match! NEXT~!”

the.weej · April 26, 2004

Like other writers have probably done regurgitated over and over again, it’s a full house tonight. Some fans have signs, other’s don’t, you get the idea. Somewhere in this sea of distinguishable figures lies a familiar face. This face of course belongs to none other than Danny Williams, who is enjoying a front roll view of tonight’s pay per view. Intrigued, Ben Hardy clumsily squeezes his way through the aisle, making his way to the seated wrestler.

Hardy: Mr. Williams, what a pleasure to see you here.

Williams: Uh yeah.

Confused by the cameras suddenly being turned on him, Williams struggles to compose himself. Smartly tossing his beer aside, Williams sits up at attention, ready for the interview.

Hardy: At last year’s Battleground you were engaged in a brutal war against Jay Dawg for the I.C.T.V. title, but tonight you’re here on the side lines, a mere observer to the carnage.

Williams. Believe me, I’d much rather be in the ring tonight, but the only two people I’d be interested in facing are gonna be a little busy.

Hardy: Of course you are referring to Charlie Matthews and John Duran, who will be vying for the World Title in a colossal match up later tonight!

Williams. Yeah, the way I see it is that whoever wins this thing owes me a title shot.

Hardy: Yes, you have defeated both men in just your first three weeks back.

Williams: Your damn right I did, I pinned the World Champion and the number one contender! If that doesn’t make me a worthy number one contender I don’t know what does.

Hardy: Neither would I. Well, let’s get back to the action. We’ve got plenty of more matches headed your way, folks!

the.weej · April 26, 2004

The University Arena is alive tonight in Albuquerque, New Mexico. Every seat in the building is full – more than eighteen thousand SWF fans have come out in support of their favorite wrestlers this evening. Signs litter the nosebleed seats, bobbing and waving as people sit, stand, walk back and forth across the aisles. Many are here for the confrontation in the main event – John Duran and Charlie Matthews, finally colliding after two months of waiting. Many are here for the match between Annie Eclectic and Tom Flesher – one woman’s chance to finally overcome a seemingly insurmountable obstacle, and one man’s opportunity to reinsert himself in the main event.

These matches are personal, but they are not all-consuming. The participants may want a rematch a week from now, a month from now, a year from now – but they will, eventually, move on to other things. Most of the fans understand this and accept it; they look forward to new combinations and fresh rivalries, surprising alliances and unlikely partners. Most of the fans understand change...but some of them do not.

Some of them have a fondness for old hatreds and storied histories. Some of them like nothing more than bad blood that has festered and swelled over time until it has nowhere else to go but the biggest stage of all. Some of them love the theme of the pay-per-view, love the props, love the decorum, love the idea of total, all-out war. Some of them want to see two men that totally despise each other try and rend the other man from limb to ragged limb.

Those fans are here for this match.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this next matchup is not for the faint at heart,” intones Cyclone Comet in a solemn voice. “If there are young, impressionable children or pregnant women watching at home, you may want to ask them to leave the room. What is about to transpire in that very ring” – he gestures towards the ring – “is one of the most violent, brutal matches in existence, and something tells me that there will be no shortage of blood and gore at ringside.”

”Ain’t wrestling grand?” queries Bobby with a disturbing giggle. “Alex Zenon, who is currently standing in as commissioner for Mark Stevens, has booked himself against Nathaniel Kibagami in a Last Man Standing match. Zenon blames Kibagami for his own misfortunes in the SWF, and I’m inclined to agree with him.”

”Surely you cannot be so blinded by emotion as to condone the criminal actions of the interim commissioner, Robert.”

”I think we can all understand where he’s coming from, Comet. Kibagami terrorized Z and all of the Midnight Carnival two years ago, and now the Carnival is gone – Edwin was wheeled out of Genesis IV on a stretcher,” Bobby reminds. “Zenon has every right to be furious, and I’d say there’s not a soul out there watching tonight that wouldn’t do the same thing he did. Kibagami’s been on a losing streak since his first match back; Zenon sees an opportunity to right the wrongs done to him,” Riley pauses to take a sip of water, a smug expression on his face, “And I, for one, think he can get the job done tonight.”

The house lights darken, as the sound of electrical distortion hums through the air… two white lights shine down on the entrance, appearing with the drums, and flashing like a rhythmic heartbeat. Everyone at ringside abruptly looks up – it’s been a long, long time since they saw this, and they don’t want to miss it. Suddenly…

BOOM!

The guitars drop, and the arena is filled with every color in the rainbow, as spotlights sway erratically over the crowd! As the stage at the top of the trenches is illuminated by an ever-changing pallet of color, Alex Zenon slowly steps from behind them, head down. He flips his long hair out of his eyes, and surveys the crowd with a face masked with emotions. The interim commissioner is clad in the same attire he wore about a year ago—a black tanktop with a white, dual-lined cross on the front, well-worn blue jeans and a pair of basic black wrestling boots. He looks out over the crowd, and another emotion crosses his face—surprise. The reaction he recieves is amazingly mixed – there are enough cheers underneath all the boos to be noticeable; some Albuquerque fans seem to understand the notion of grudges and revenge.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the following match up is a LAST MAN STANDING MATCH! There are no count-outs, no disqualifications, and only way to win is to knock your opponent down and not have him answer the ten-count! Introducing first, weighing in at two hundred and twenty-nine pounds and hailing from the Meadowlands... he is the commissioner of the SWF in Mark Stevens’ absence... ALEEEEEEX ZENON!”

As Alex makes his way down, the camera cuts to an upper-mezzanine shot of the rampway, surrounded by barbed wire, the lyrics calling in the background…

“Driven by a strange desire…

I want… what I need

Shaking as the sex takes hold…

I lost… all control…”

The lights flicker erratically over the crowd, swooping and cutting in all directions. The camera is suddenly wiped out by the blinding flash of a passing light… and refocuses with a cut to the ring, as Alex climbs up onto it and stands on first and second turnbuckles, absorbing the crowd, applause and jeers alike…

“Quite the mixed reaction to our devious commissioner, I must say. It seems that the citizenry is somewhat enamored of Zenon’s motives despite themselves!”

”Of course they are, Comet,” Riley sighs, exasperated. “I just explained this to you. Everybody understands where Zenon is coming from – everybody’s been in his position at least once before.”

“Although,” starts Cyclone, “I do not agree with Alexander’s motivation, I cannot quite fathom anyone in the crowd being familiar with a hulking ‘psychopath’ from a ‘clandestine criminal organization’ harbor a deep grudge for their ‘mentor’ and ‘end up’ destroying their ‘life,’” he finishes, adding aerial quotations all the way.

Bobby sighs. “Comet, you, of all people, have never seen Enter the Dragon? Man…”

Hopping off the turnbuckle, Alex settles into the ring, focusing entirely on the match at hand. His face is home to a kaleidoscope of thoughts and feelings – determination, fear, despair, fury, hatred...and somewhere amongst the throng, there is a touch of a confidence, as well. The camera captures a brief shot of his eyes – these emotions are all there, yes, but they seem strangely empty all the same. One gets the impression that there may not be that much left of Alex Zenon, the same way that once, there was not much left of Nathaniel Kibagami.

The arena lights are suddenly cut, and familiar words appear on the screen:

Of old the skilled first made themselves invincible

to await the enemy’s vincibility.

Invincibility lies in oneself.

Vincibility lies in the enemy.

Thus the skilled can make themselves invincible.

They cannot cause the enemy’s vincibility.

Thus it is said, “Victory can be known. It cannot be

made.”

-the Sun-Tzu, Chapter Four.”

Speak of the devil.

The Smarkstron flickers again and again, showing Kibagami’s collapse in October. He falls in slow motion; the camera catches half a dozen angles of his descent, allowing the viewers to see clearly the unnatural jarring of his neck and spine. They see an injury that could’ve – maybe should’ve – ended a career.

SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...

SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...

But they have come to know him better than that.

BAM!

Today, the warning came in the floooooooood...

Through the sparks and smoke and the driving guitars of Nevermore comes Nathaniel Kibagami, clad in a dark red trenchcoat, clutching his steel-tipped cane. The cuts on his face have barely had time to heal, and everyone in the arena is sure he’s favoring his ribs, but he gives no outward sign of discomfort as he swiftly makes his way

down to the ring.

“Introducing second...weighing in at two hundred and sixty-one pounds and hailing from Phoenix, Arizona...NATHANIEL KIBAGAMI!"

Where Zenon’s mood is uncertain, shifting, Kibagami is calm and composed. There is no doubt in his no expression as he rolls into the ring. There is no fear in his eyes as he climbs onto the turnbuckles. He raises his arms in the crucifix pose, and there does not seem to be a thought given to his opponent.

SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...

SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...

For Nathaniel Kibagami, this match is a foregone conclusion.

“Listen to those fans!” exclaims Comet as the lights come back up. “They may not have made up their minds about Zenon’s dastardly deeds, but they certain seem unanimous showing their support for the Silent One!”

“They’re sheep,” snorts Riley. “They cheer him because they expect to cheer him. Zenon is right about Kibagami and they know it – he’s washed up, he’s broken down. He doesn’t deserve the second chance he’s gotten! I’ll be the one to make the prediction, Comet. Tonight will be Kibagami’s last match in the SWF.”

“Just like the last six others, Bobbo…?”

Kibagami discards his coat, having laid his cane next to the stairs closest to the entrance before he got in the ring. Surrounded by bunkers and barbed wire, the two men face each other. The discrepancies between them are obvious, and they seem to make the match a foregone conclusion. Kibagami is stronger, has the experience advantage, has the crowd behind him and has been in this sort of match before. Zenon is uncertain, out of practice, reviled by more than half the audience, has no idea how to approach this match...but that does not mean he doesn’t have a plan.. Alex Zenon radiates hatred for the man on the other side of the ring. It’s palpable – it communicates itself to everyone at ringside, Nick Soapdish the most of all; he takes special care explaining to Zenon that there are certain rules to the match. And something in the way he stands makes Kibagami wary.

DING DING DING!

No one understands the damage that hatred can do quite like Nathaniel Kibagami.

The two men circle each other – Zenon appears wary, while Kibagami remains the very picture of poise. The University Arena is chanting in unison, and they cannot be helping the commissioner’s concentration with their eerie synchronicity:

SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...

SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...

“These fans are adamant in their support of citizen Kibagami, Robert! Alex Zenon does not seem to have endeared himself to the fanbase in his short stint as commissioner!”

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”Hey, you can’t please everybody. Even the guys at the Rainbow McNasty club know that,” shrugs Riley, before realizing what he said. “Uh, I mean… Zenon’s been doing what he thinks is best for the federation as a whole, petty politics be damned.”

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”How can you say that while he’s participating in a match he signed himself into against a man he has a personal grudge against?”

Riley shifts his gaze nervously. “It’s...ratings.”

Zenon pauses for a moment amidst the banter and noise of the crowd. He has been out of the ring for almost two years; he feels the rust weighing heavily on his limbs. He has to be fast, faster than he’s ever been to shake it off. He feints to the left, then moves quickly back to the right –

CRACK!

– and limps backwards, a hand gingerly pressed against his right thigh! The River Dragon’s foot comes back to the mat, a smirk visible on his face as Zenon lunges in again –

CRACK!

– his hamstring meeting the same fate against Kibagami’s boots! The commissioner lets loose a shout of frustration, charging towards his opponent...

BAM!

BAM!

...only to be stopped dead in his tracks by two hard elbows to the jaw!

“Zenon clearly isn’t going to match Kibagami in the striking department,” Riley deadpans. “You’re smarter than this, Alex! You’ve got to make him wrestle the match your way!”

“Need I remind you, Robert, that for the longest time ‘his way’ was running as far as he could from the opponent.”

Zenon wobbles backwards, dazed, and Kibagami follows up with a closed fist, punching Zenon squarely in the nose and sending him crashing to the canvas! The commissioner scrambles backwards, arms flailing, legs kicking, trying to find some purchase, some foothold – reassessing his situation even as the Silent One moves in on him.

“I don’t think he has a method in mind, Bobby,” muses Comet. “This is Kibagami’s area of expertise, to be fair. Zenon’s never been in a match like this in his life.”

Nathaniel lifts the smaller man up from the canvas with relative ease and props him up against the ropes, draping Zenon’s arms over the top rope to keep his chest exposed...

SLAP! (WHOOOOO!)

“One of these days, Comet –“

SLAP! (WHOOOOO!)

“I’m going to figure out –“

SLAP! (WHOOOOO!)

“Why they do that.”

The crowd is rabid; they love being able to chant along as strips of Zenon’s flesh are peeled from his chest. Kibagami grabs hold of Zenon’s arm and whips him hard across the ring...and ducks a surprise spinning wheel kick from the commissioner as he comes barreling back across! Alex scrambles to his feet—the move was sloppy and unconditioned. Turning around to face the River Dragon, he fears –

WHAM!

– to be doubled over by a hard knee to the gut from the already arisen Nathaniel! Not wasting any time, Kibagami grabs Zenon’s arm with both hands and whips him towards the turnbuckle, putting all his weight behind it. Alex slams chest-first into the top turnbuckle and, to the crowd’s delight, flips head over heels, somehow managing to land feet-first on the apron! He stumbles down the apron, trying to regain his bearings, but –

CRACK!

– a Yakuza kick from the Slaughterer sends Alex Zenon crashing to the floor!

“Zenon tries to sprint ahead of Kibagami, but Kibagami seems to have a leg up all the same! The Silent One is simply dominating this matchup thus far, just as I expected he would. The commissioner may have gotten in over his head here, Robert...”

Zenon lies prone on the mats outside the ring, clutching his face and trying to gather his wits. The Silent One doesn’t seem eager to allow him any, but he reminds himself of the rules. Nick Soapdish holds up a hand as he begins the count –

“One!”

“Two!”

Alex Zenon groans as he stirs on the outside, rolling up onto one need despite the heckling of the nearest fans at ringside.

“Three!”

“Four!”

Soapdish breaks the count upon seeing Zenon up on his feet, taking a deep breath. He looks at the face of Kibagami who meets him with a cold smirk that causes Alex to shiver. He paces around the outside, slowly, as Nathaniel follows him – Soapdish urging Alex to bring himself back into the ring. But that would mean another immediate, direct meeting with Nathaniel. That… has not met the greatest success. Perhaps it is time for a new strategy.

“Our commissioner,” Comet says this last part tiredly, “Seems to be making a point of taking his time on the outside.”

“Well, how long has it been since he’s done this? Give him some time, Comet. No matter how many drugs remain coursing through Kibagami’s utterly spent body, he remains much more conditioned. Ready. Chiseled. Ripped. Buff and…” Riley trails off. From behind his mask, Comet raises an eyebrow. “Uh, I mean, LOOK. The commish just needs a little time to catch his breath, that’s all.

And indeed, this is what Alex does. He takes deep breathes – which remain always ragged as Kibagami’s eyes are on him. Finally, tentatively, he steps towards the apron and puts one let up on it, slowly ducking his head under the bottom rope, never taking his eyes of Nathaniel… and then rolls into the ring swiftly! Kibagami doesn’t move, and Alex sighs a small amount of relief, as he begins a slow pacing around Nathan.

The tension hangs thickly in the air, even more thickly than before their first exchange. Kibgami coolly follows Alex with his eyes, and then, his feet, circling methodically. There are no sudden movements, this time, which allows the crowd to pick up their chant…

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Alex sweats. Kibagami tenses, and steps forward quickly –

SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...

SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-BOOOOOOOOOOO!.

- …causing Alex to jump back and lean against the ropes, dropping his form completely. Kibagami raises an eyebrow quizzically, as the crowd shows ire over this perceived cowardice. It isn’t perceived for very long, as Kibagami’s epic lack of patience for this kind of delay shows itself, as he quickly attempts to close the gap between himself and Zenon! The crowd continues jeering, though, as the interim commissioner backpedals, moving along the ropes and making sure that Kibagami is never within reach of him.

“And now Alexander will not even attempt to lock up with Kibagami! This is truly criminal cowardice, Robert! After all his accusation and blaming, all his talk of ‘ending’ everything with Kibagami here on PPV, Zenon is purposely avoiding him. I suppose he only now realizes his impotency,” says Comet, nodding sagely.

Very carefully, Riley makes sure to say nothing.

Decidedly miffed, Kibagami halts his advance, stepping back to the center of the ring and standing still. Alex follows suit, restarting his pace around Kibagami. Licking his lips, he attempts a different approach – very slowly, tentatively, reaching out one of his hands for a lockup. Nathaniel gives him an incredulous look as Zenon continues to slowly reach forward…

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“Cowardice, eh?” queries Bobby. “He was just testing the waters, Comet. Last time he dove in headlong, and it got him a few good kicks to the mush. Now he’s ready.”

“Perhaps…” Cyclone mutters.

With almost a shrug, the River Dragon decides to oblige, reaching in to take Alex’s hand… and having him immediately pull it away and take a step back from him!

“…or perhaps not,” Comet deadpans.

Zenon pulls Soapdish aside and launches a formal complaint and inquiry request, indicating to his wristbands and pointing at Kibagami. Soapdish sighs, having heard this story a million times before, and the crowd seems even more restless, launching another round of full-on jeering!

“Hey, it’s a legitimate gripe. I never saw Soapdish check Kibagami’s wristband – he could have spikes or something in there, Comet! Maybe even one of those ninja star things,” says Riley.

With a snarl, Kibagami zooms in on Soapdish and Zenon, the latter with his back turned to him – and nearly takes off the referee’s head with an enormous roundhouse kick! His head jerks to either side to try and catch a glimpse of Zenon, clearly having pivoted out of the way. Where he’s gone is answered as soon as the Silent One turns around, catching a snap southpaw to the jaw! And second and a third jab follow… which seem to do more damage to Alex than Kibagami himself. Nathaniel rubs his jaw with a ‘what the hell was that supposed to do?’ look on his face as the commissioner grimaces, shaking out the pain in his hand. He has no chance of avoiding the River Dragon this time, though, as a swift crescent kick sends a fresh, serious wave of pain coursing through Zenon’s left hand, which is followed up by a smooth savate kick to the chest which sends the commissioner clattering to the canvas.

The cheers mount as Zenon desperately tries to crawl away from Kibagami, but is halted by a sick stomp to the back of his shoulder blades! The groaning Zenon is easily picked up by Kibagami, who seizes an arm and flings him at the ropes.

“Clearly, according to Kibagami, patience in battle is vastly overrated,” observes Comet, chuckling. “Alexander may be trying to channel the tactics of another former commissioner, the Suicide King, but he seems to lack the practice and poise that he had while doing them.”

But that may not be totally true. Kibagami bows his head, preparing to toss Zenon down the mat with a backdrop upon his rebound, but unbeknownst to him, Alex reaches his arms around the ropes and halts his momentum. The boos begin again, and Nathaniel becomes aware that something is up, but he cannot react before Alex runs up to him and cracks him across the face with a soccer-style kick! Finally appearing to do some damage, the River Dragon jolts upright and grimaces. Moving with haste, ducks behind Kibagami, grabs his hair, pulls him down into a reverse headlock and drops, turning as he falls and driving an elbow into Nathan’s sternum!

“Turn n’ Burn,” calls Comet. “The commissioner finally gets on the board with one of his favourite maneuvers – a Divefire classic.”

“Y’know, with King, he played a game of chance more than anything else, Comet,” Bobby says, responding to the superhero’s earlier comment. “Just with a few… uh… extra things thrown in to try and even the odds. It’s a game that involves you taking way more than your fair share of lumps, though. Sometimes you play that game and you lose – but King was good, so he didn’t lose often.”

“Alexander has not demonstrated the best luck since he accepted the commissioner’s position, or through his entire career, chum.”

“Yeah, but luck is intangible – Kibagami doesn’t have it either.”

The move, as it always does, succeeds in driving the air right out of Kibagami’s lungs. He coughs on the mat, giving Alex brief respite and only the second count of the match from Soapdish.

“One!”

“Two!”

“Three!”

Kibagami groans and quickly pulls his head off the mat, to the chagrin of Alex – but he knew that wasn’t going to keep him down long anyway. He rises to a knee, causing Nick Soapdish to break the count, and is immediately peppered by stomps from Zenon! Alex grabs the nearest rope for leverage and continues to furiously piston his foot into Kibagami’s back, shoulder, sides, anything that’s exposed! The jeers mount again, but are suddenly silenced by a pop as Nathaniel flips from his stomach and catches Alex’s next stop before it meets his body. He’s caught off balanced by this, allowing Kibagami to arise with Alex’s boot in hand. Zenon clings desperately to the ropes, but with one solid pull, Nathan frees him and rips him over and down with…

“Dragonscrew legwhip,” Comet calls, almost cheering. “Alexander gets a shot in, but still fails to create any consistent offense!”

Alex almost bawls in pain and grabs at his knee, rolling around on the canvas. This, of course, leads to the referee beginning another ten count, much to the satisfaction of those in attendance.

“One!”

“Two!”

“Three!”

Alex lays limply on the mat, still holding onto his legs. Kibagami eyes his suspiciously and takes a step forward, but stops as Soapdish puts a hand in his way.

“Four!”

“Five!”

Alex is still laying on the mat, his face contorted in pain. “That leglace really appeared to do a lot of damage to Zenon. It’s entirely possible that Kibagami could’ve torn a ligament with his lack of conditioning,” Bobby speculates.

“The commissioner certainly seems to be in pain…”

“Six!”

Kibagami’s brow furrows. He knows exactly what’s going on here, and he takes a step forward to try and remedy the situation – but Soapdish remains convinced, urging Kibagami back again as he continues counting.

“Seven!”

“Eight!”

The fans begin booing, hating the idea of this sort of cop out. Alex remains on the mat, grimacing and holding his knee.

“These people are unbelieveable,” Riley mutters, disgusted. “The man is clearly in pain, and it’s possible that leg may be torn apart! How can they boo?”

“When they know…”

“Nine!”

And just before Nick Soapdish makes the final, fatal count, Alex springs from his deathbed and gets to his feet, earning another intensified round of jeering!

“…that it’s all an act,” Comet finishes, scornfully.

Nathaniel scowls, having known this all along, and shoots a miserable look at Soapdish. He turns his attention back to his opponent, who has a half grin on his face as he begins to pace again. The crowd murmurs restlessly as they watch the two men circle for the fourth time in the match; as he did at the beginning, Alex knows that he must be faster than Kibagami, and faster he’s ever been to be able to beat him. But… he is not. So then, now, he must be smarter. This, he has been, but…

He is running out of avenues to try and take control.

Knowing this, Alex surprises Kibagami by stopping his circling and suddenly breaking in between them, taking his arm and winding it around in a quick wristlock. Off-guard, Kibagami winces as Zenon grinds his arm, but the Silent One is swift to demonstrate his superior strength and capability, reversing it into his own wristlock.

“Zounds. And it looks like we may actually have a wrestling match in our midst, Robert,” hums Comet. “Nathaniel is really trying to screw in that hold.”

“Yeah, and Zenon’s telling him exactly what he thinks about it.”

Indeed, the commissioner mutters derogatory comments at Kibagami as he works the hold. Bemused, Kibagami does the best shrug possible while keeping the wristlock synched in and kicks him once… twice in the ribs! The crowd pops loudly, while Zenon curses loudly at Nathaniel! In the midst of a particularly inflammatory comment, Kibagami rears back in kicks Alex square in the mouth, dropping him to one knee and drawing a huge pop!

“Ah, but the criminal belligerents always eat their words. And Kibagami’s boot, evidentially.”

Feeling around the inside of his mouth to make sure he’s still got all the teeth he started the match with, Alex is reminded that Kibagami still has a strong grip on his wrist. Grimacing, he looks to remedy this by quickly ducking into a roll, spinning on the mat, and then uneasily kipping to his feet and ducking under the Silent One’s arm, effectively completing the Owen Hart-like reversal. It’s met with a few smatterings of applause, but like most things he’s done in this match, Zenon bears witness only to jeering.

He doesn’t care; winding the arm around Kibagami’s back, Alex moves into a hammerlock that has Kibagami wincing. He jerks left and jukes right in an attempt to break Alex from his grip, and the commissioner struggles to maintain the hold – but it won’t take much more for Kibagami’s stronger body to pry itself from him. Thinking fast, Alex breaks one hand from the hold and absolutely SLUGS Kibagami in the side of the neck!

“Shades of Bertuzzi there,” Riley mutters.

“And just as heinous, Robert! Alexander takes a vile shot at Kibagami’s biggest weakness!”

And Kibagami screams – literally screams – out in pain from the roundhouse right. The crowd boos vehemently and Alex grins, thinking he’s finally found his opening. Wobbly, Kibagami shambles forward, and Zenon immediately drops the hammerlock, reaching through the River Dragon’s legs and grasping his other arm, pulling it back in a pumphandle. The commissioner gives the arm a solid jerk, much to the displeasure of Kibagami, and then leaps over Kibagami’s back, turning around as he slides down, gripping a headlock and drilling Kibagami down!

“Suicide Level Event!” Comet shouts. “And that fiend continues to darkly exploit Kibagami’s most obvious weakness, compacting his neck right down!”

“Well, duh,” Riley drones. “I mean, what were you expecting? Alex to play nice? There is more hatred in that ring than you or I will ever know, Comet, and this is the only way that Alex may ever be able to win this match.”

The crowd continues booing, and Alex continues grinning, while Kibagami lay on the canvas, his face a mask of pain. Alex slowly arises, and Soapdish starts his count, as that old, familiar chant starts up again…

“One!”

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“Two!”

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“Three!”

“Even with the droning of these dregs, I don’t think it’s going to keep Kibagami in this match. As long as Alex keeps focusing in on that neck, he’s going to grind down Nathan – hell, he doesn’t look like he’ll be getting up anytime soon as it is.”

“Four!”

“I doubt that very much, Riley. First, this criminal is going to need to be able to get at Kibagami’s neck again. But to do that, Alexander must first find some way to out-last Kibagami.”

“Five!”

Alex eyes widen. Is it at all possible that he may very well be doing that right here? Kibagami’s breath is shallow, but his mouth is twisted in to a grimace, and he lays there, motionlessly.

“Six!”

Could it be…?

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SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...

“Sev…”

SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...

SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!

…that the grimace was actually a smirk?

“Like a zombie,” Riley mumbles.

“He sat up! Kibagami just sat bolt upright!” shouts Comet, amidst the cheering. “He just used Alexander’s own little underhanded trick against him!”

In the ring, Zenon nearly has a heart attack as Kibagami reaches his feet, standing up purposefully. The chants and cheering intensify, and Nathaniel’s grin can only get a little bigger as he stalks into the middle of the ring… and then closer to Zenon. Panicking, the interim-commish forgets everything he needs to do to actually win this match, and dives in with a hard overhand punch to Kibagami’s head. It snaps back into place like hit with a gentle summer’s breeze, and Alex feverishly – foolishly – tries to keep up his attack, only to have Kibagami reach up with his forearm and block the third punch, doubling Zenon over with a hard knee to the gut!

The cheering and chanting for the Silent One continues unabated as he fires three quick snap kicks off, all of them meeting their mark on Zenon’s chest. The panting Alex is offered no quarter as Kibagami squares himself, and then lets loose with a huge roundhouse kick that knocks Zenon silly, sending his hair whipping about with a spray of perspiration and dropping him to his knees, and then, flat to his face.

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Gasping, Zenon crawls along the mat, dazedly, almost absently trying to find a way to his feet – or simply remember who he is and what he’s doing. One more good, hard shot from the River Dragon would be enough to put him down and attempt another ten count, but Kibagami knows this is not the best strategy. After all, it would only allow Zenon time to rest. Pulling him up to his feet, Nathaniel grips the arm of the commissioner and whips him towards the ropes, bouncing off himself and closing in on Alex… before absolutely tearing his head off with a Burning Lariat! Zenon obediently goes flipping, crashing to the mat with a resounding ‘thud!’

“One!”

“Two!”

As Soapdish counts, Kibagami takes a moment to bathe in the adulation the crowd hails on him, and then sneers at the prone body of Zenon. However, much to Kibagami’s surprise, the commissioner is more than resilient – not in ring shape, no, but more than determined to let a few stiff kicks and a hell of a lariat keep him down.

“Three!”

Not for this.

“Four!”

Sputtering, Zenon slowly attempts to lift his shoulders off the mat, straining especially hard to reach a sitting position. Though it shows through that the endless will of Z will never die, the site is still almost enough to make Kibagami laugh.

“Five!”

Almost. But there’s no time for laughter now. No time for anything at all – Zenon has had enough to almost collect himself, and ‘almost’ is more than good enough, Kibagami has decided. Before Soapdish can shout “six,” Nathaniel rushes the gap between the two of them and knocks Alex right back to the canvas with a sick knee to the head!

Pulling the commissioner away from the ropes, Kibagami pulls out one of Alex’s arms and drops a knee directly into the joint! A second, and Alex lets out some kind of unintelligible groan of pain. Dropping a third knee and earning the same response, the River Dragon has also decided that he will treat this match like any other one.

Alex Zenon isn’t worth anything special.

Pulling Zenon up to his feet by his long, brown locks, Kibagami locks onto the wounded right arm of Alex’s and makes a show of winding it around slowly, methodically, painfully. Alex moans, and then yells out as Nathaniel harshly jerks downward on it! He does it a second time, and Alex tries to fall to his knee, but Kibagami will have none of that. Turning his back to Zenon, he pulls him close and snaps his arm down over one of his broad shoulders, seemingly causing the commissioner to go limp. Seeing this as an opportunity for something more impactful, Nathaniel pulls Zenon up onto his back and prepares for an Ippon Seionage throw – when suddenly, everything goes wrong. He feels Alex’s body tighten, and his left arm whip around the his throat. Reflexively, the Silent One lets go of Zenon’s weakened arm, which he uses to grip his left hand and allow some slightly greater purchase.

Nathaniel moves and shakes in every which way to throw Alex from his back, who clings desperately to the sleeper hold, each failed attempt to get him off seemingly only serving to jerk the hold tighter around Kibagami’s neck. Grimacing at the pain in his most publicized weakness, Nathan feels the weariness of the wear-down hold being to take his toll. With one last, great push, Nathaniel gather the energy in his legs… and then leaps backwards towards the nearest turnbuckle, sandwiching Alex between the padding and Nathan’s back. With an audible “OOF,” Alex’s hold slackens considerably, and the River Dragon is given the opportunity to crush the commissioner once again – shattering the hold!

Fighting the urge to take a knee, Nathaniel rubs his angry throat. The jerking and the pressure has ground on his neck – Alex knows exactly where to strike. The only place to strike. He has not fought effectively over long periods of time, though, and this is his weakness. Nathaniel knows that he must not allow the commissioner to mount a continued assault; he has not yet, and he cannot now.

Unfortunately for Kibagami, his enemy has recovered faster. Before Nathaniel can return his attention to Alex, he feels two hands wrap around him, a leg intertwined with his, and inevitably, Zenon bringing him down with a Russian Leg Sweep! The jeering that had restarted with the sleeper hold re-intensifies with this shot.

Swifter than earlier, Kibagami makes a point of not waiting for his breath in returning to his feet. That… was his mistake. He should not let it happen again. Fully arising, he quickly looks to the turnbuckle, and then scans along the ropes and the ring for his opponent. There is no sign of Alex Zenon, and alarms begin to ring in Kibagami’s head, intensified as he feels his hair pulled from behind him, as the commissioner yanks his head over the ropes and lays his neck across the top – drilling it with a hard elbow!

“And yet another injust shot from the criminal Alex Zenon,” Comet announces. “Right across the throat – He has no concept of honour, Robert!”

Bobby Riley can only roll his eyes. “Well, obviously, Comet. How do you think he got his job?”

“Mark Stevens gave it to him.”

Riley blanches. “That’s beside the point! This is the most effective way for Alex to win, here, Comet, and that move not only leaves Nathan in desperate need of air, but it’s got the added effect of snapping his vertebrae with the ropes and doing a little more to hit him where it really hurts.”

Again, Kibagami is left sputtering, coughing, and with a burning pain all around his neck. And again, he knows he must be the faster to his feet, faster to react. Faster to note that the fans jeering had intensified once more, and yet… there were some cheers mixed in. That could only mean one thing. With surprising speed, Kibagami stands flush on his feet and pivots towards the turnbuckle, glimpsing Alex Zenon coming at him…!

…

**CRASH!**

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!

“BY HADES BALLCAP!” exclaims Comet. “WHATTAMANEUVER FROM KIBAGAMI!!”

“He just caught Alex in mid-air and ripped over with an armdrag,” Riley gapes, more than a little shocked himself. “Zenon’s clear across the ring!”

Both men seeming very much spent, this leaves only one logical course of action for Nick Soapdish. He begins the double ten-count, as the crowd continues its adulation for the Silent One’s particularly awesome counter.

“One!”

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“Two!”

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“Three!”

Those chants. Those same bloody chants. All the time, and always that name. In Alex’s head, the lights are spinning, but he can still hear everything. He’s not out of it, but his arm hurts like hell right now. He lays still, watching as the lights begin to slow their twirl. He looks across the ring…

“Four!”

…and a look of shock crosses his face as he watches Kibagami, already on his hands and knees, slowly using the ropes to pull himself up.

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The match has gone on for eleven, twelve, thirteen minutes now. Kibagami isn’t invincible, and his life-long battered body is beginning to tire. Kibagami is slowing, but he remains faster than Alex.

“Five!”

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“Six!”

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“Seven!”

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That infernal chanting… Alex is well and truly running out of ideas, and Kibagami is running to his feet. Stalling didn’t work. Possum didn’t work. Surprise worked, but opportunities will not present themselves so often. There is, Alex fears, only one other option.

“Eight!”

Kibagami is on his feet now, and he sees Alex laying prone. Kibagami knows this may very well be a trick, but he doesn’t care. Sprinting towards the commissioner, the River Dragon races in on Alex and leaps into the air, aiming for a kneedrop.

…just as Alex decides to execute his last hope, deftly rolling out of the way, and continuing to roll, under the bottom rope, out of the ring and onto the floor! Kibagami’s knee kisses the canvas, resulting in an unpleasant jolt all through his leg, a stream of profanity, and a few vehement boos directed at the weary, wary commissioner.

“And the citizens in attendance, Robert, are giving Alexander no respite! As well they shouldn’t, I say…”

“Yeah, whatever,” Riley mutters. “For a while, Alex was the mayor of no-man’s land, Comet. Don’t forget that – he’d only be leading Kibagami out here for a good reason.”

Kibagami shakes the pain out of his leg and looks at Zenon through the ropes, scowling. Without even a second though, he brushes past Soapdish and steps out onto the apron – immediately assaulted by Zenon, knowing that to wait out here is to die. A flurry of left jabs and the occasional overhand right that Alex can spare meet the River Dragon, finally seeming to be enough to stun him. Wasting no time, the commissioner seizes a handful of Kibagami’s now unfurled black hair and drives him hard, face-first into the the ring apron. The sick satisfaction of trying to rearrange Kibagami’s face is evident in Alex; he does it again. And again, and again, and again. A half dozen, and then ten times Kibagami’s face is driven into the apron, Zenon screaming out in rage as he does it!

The jeers reach fever pitch, and a loud “ZEN-ON SUCKS! ZEN-ON SUCKS!” chant starts up; he ignores it. Breathing shallow, ragged gasps of hair, Alex looks at Kibagami, his face planted rather helplessly into the edge of the ring.

“A truly wretched display by this fiendish… unjust… criminal,” Comet spits, not terribly good with the whole ‘insult’ thing. “The hatred and desperation of Alexander Zenon is more evident than ever!”

“And he’s looking for another elbow right into the back of Kibagami’s neck. This is great stuff, Comet! Just image what Edwin would think!”

And that draws complete silence from the man sitting next to Bobby Riley.

Zenon rears back with his elbow, and puts full force into everything… meeting NOTHING but HARD ring edge as Kibagami pulls his head away at the last moment, a little dazedly. Zenon SCREAMS in agony as his arm connects, drawing a big pop from the New Mexico fans!

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” Cyclone Comet chides, shaking his head. “Alexander attacked with that arm that Kibagami’s been targeting!”

In a terrific amount of pain, and having been caught up in adrenalin, Alex had not realized his error. But it’s more than enough for Kibagami, who takes full advantage of the smarting Zenon, the pain in his arm quickly replaced by the fire in his jaw as the River Dragon connects with a spinning crescent kick! Zenon almost goes for a spin himself, staggering around stupidly, which Kibagami nullifies by gripping his arm and pulling him down with hard, ANGRY single-armed DDT!

The crowd pops, and Zenon is such a world of hurt he can’t find any sound to really express it. The chants start again, and Alex seems lost and incapable. Unable. In a complete daze he tries to rise from the move, reaching for the barricade and pulling himself up. Naturally, the watchful eyes of Kibagami haven’t left him even for a second – as Zenon turns around to face him with a moan, the Silent One greets him with a hard knee to the gut! A second is quick to follow, and Zenon is quick to drop to his knees, retching and coughing and writing. With his good arm, he slowly lowers himself to the mat, dry heaving. The chant begins anew. To Nathaniel Kibagami, this is really quite a pathetic display.

SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...

SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...

SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...

SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...

As always, Kibagami does not bathe in it; his eyes remain completely focused on the commissioner, who now paws at his pant leg in an attempt to bring himself to his feet. Harshly, Nathan kicks the arm away, sending Zenon flopping onto his back. Shaking his head sadly, Kibagami takes Zenon’s hair and yanks him up to his feet. For a moment, the two share eye contact.

There is blood from Alex’s mouth. He’s out of breath. But his eyes… the same thing that made Kibagami wary at the beginning of this match… the fire and hatred and disgust and fear and loathing… it still burns within Alex’s eyes. Brightly. He moves his lips as if to speak; he tries to position himself as if to fight; but Kibagami will have none of this. None of it! With a feral snarl, he grabs Zenon and throws him as hard as he can, sending him crashing into the steel steps, and toppling into a pile of human wreckage! The crowd roars in approval, the chants continue… but Kibagami can only scowl. This will not break Zenon – he now has only one course of action, too. Staring grimly at what’s left of his employer, Nick Soapdish does his job…

“One!”

“You know… Robert, this is really starting to get ugly. The evil Dr. Kitsch’s dungeon in Castle Kitschstein was filthy, dilapidated, many of the moving parts could’ve easily killed or maimed innocent children and derelicts had used it for a toilet. I dare say this match is perilously close to leap frogging it.”

“Two!”

“And I suppose he had the Hardly Boys chained up there with you?” deadpans Riley. “Anyway, I’d agree to a point. Zenon looks…” Riley trails off as he shoots an eye towards Nathaniel.

“Three!”

“Where the hell is he going?”

Striding purposefully, Kibagami walks slowly back towards the steps near the entrance ramp. It beings to dawn on Riley…

“Four!”

Comet…

“Five!”

…and the audience what exactly Kibagami is looking for. He reaches the stairs.

“Six!”

“Riley, you don’t think he’s…”

“I do, Comet.”

“Seven!”

Nestled neatly up against the steps is the one and only weapon of mass destruction. The harbinger of pain – the steep tipped cane. Gripping the handle, Kibagami makes great show of holding up the cane for all the audience to see, getting and ENORMOUS roar from within the University Arena! Eighteen thousand people are on their feet for the possibility of ultraviolence.

“Oh, dear,” is all that Cyclone Comet can muster.

SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...

SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...

Stalking back from whence he came, the River Dragon idly taps the cane against the mats as he steps. The chants continue, it is impossible to think in the confines of the arena, the crowd is so loud. However, Kibagami pauses as approaches the side of the ring that Zenon is on.

Even over the crowd, he realizes Soapdish’s count has ceased.

Kibagami slowly strides around the turnbuckle, and is met with a flash of black steel.

**CA-FUCKING-RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!!”

“JESUS GOD!” Riley screams, “ZENON JUST CAME OUT OF NOWHERE AND TOOK KIBAGAMI’S FUCKING HEAD OFF WITH THAT CHAIR!!”

Kibagami stumbles backwards – the cane almost falls from his hands, and he drops to one knee. His neck is on fire. His eyes are closed.

The crowd screams in frustration - eighteen thousand people are suddenly filled with contempt for one Alex Zenon, and they’re not afraid to let him know.

ZEN-ON SUCKS!

ZEN-ON SUCKS!

He doesn’t seem to hear them.

ZEN-ON SUCKS!

ZEN-ON SUCKS!

Alex Zenon ignores the taunts of eighteen thousand people and measures Kibagami once again.

**CA-FUCKING-RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!!**

The second shot topples the River Dragon outright, sending him sprawling, bloodied, to the floor.

“This is...this is criminal!” Cyclone Comet sputters and chokes, indignant and lacking the vocabulary to express it. “Zenon has stooped to despicable depths, introducing a foreign object to level the playing field!”

”It’s all legal in this match, Comet! The commissioner may have finally found the opening he needs to put Kibagami down for the count!”

Zenon tosses the chair into the ring – nearly taking the referee’s head off in the process – and grabs a handful of the Slaughterer’s blood-drenched hair. He tosses the cane into the corner as well. He might want it later; there is a certain poetic justice in the idea of caning Kibagami that he simply can’t ignore. This is the opening he wanted, the opening he needed. Kibagami is half-conscious, losing blood, and undoubtedly in a great deal of pain. He can’t defend himself.

Alex rolls Nathaniel into the ring and follows him in, his eyes on the chair.

ZEN-ON SUCKS!

ZEN-ON SUCKS!

Now, he just has to keep him down.

There’s no time to waste – Kibagami is already on his hands and knees, trying desperately to regain his senses. Zenon grabs a hasty double chickenwing and hauls Nathaniel to his feet, looking for a tiger suplex, but the Silent One is recovering quickly – he twists his body sharply to the right and pulls his left arm free of Zenon’s grasp, sending the commissioner flying over his shoulder and off of his back with something that’s somewhere between a hiptoss and an armdrag. Alex rolls to his feet, ignoring the searing pain in his right arm; he won’t let this chance slip away. He can’t let another chance slip. He charges at Kibagami with a primal scream, swinging his good arm wildly at the larger man’s head –

WHAM!

– only to have the Slaughterer bring his forearms up at the last possible moment to block the blow! Alex doubles over, clutching his arm, but Kibagami gives him no time to nurse his wounds – he grabs a handful of Zenon’s hair and jerks him upright, then shoves him brusquely into the turnbuckles! The blood in Nathaniel’s eyes makes it difficult for him to see, but he can tell where Zenon’s face is.

CRACK-CRACK!

Two harsh bitchslaps knock the taste out of Zenon’s mouth, and before the commissioner can duck or dodge, Kibagami vaults onto the second rope –

CRAAAAAAAAACK!

– and drives his boot into Alex’s face with a vicious springboard gamengiri! Zenon flops to the mat, motionless, as Kibagami lands unsteadily on his feet. The crowd is absolutely rabid; they understand perfectly well what the Silent One has just done.

...but just to make sure that nobody misses the point, Nathaniel Kibagami – the River Dragon, the Slaughterer, the man least likely to dance in the entire federation – adds the trademark pelvic thrust to the move.

“COCKTAIL O’ SHAME, Bobby! What a slap in the face to the commissioner!” Comet titters to himself, obviously enamored with the pun. “It’s going to take more than a few puny chair shots to keep a citizen of Kibagami’s caliber down for the count, I think!”

“Maybe it will, but they’re affecting him all the same,” Riley mutters. “I hope he keeps showboating like that – between the chair shots, the blood loss, and the commissioner, he won’t be able to keep this up.”

Kibagami leans on the ropes, breathing hard. His neck burns and his ears are ringing, but Zenon is lying perfectly still on the canvas.

“One!”

”Two!”

It’s about time he stayed down, too.

”Three!”

He’d fought a lot harder than Kibagami expected, and it was beginning to look like –

“Four!”

Zenon pushes himself up to his hands and knees.

“Five!”

No.

This has to end now.

The Slaughterer advances on Zenon, not bothering to wait for Soapdish to count – he knows Alex is getting up. Determination is etched in his face as he drives the toe of his boot sharply into the commissioner’s side. He will not allow this match to go any further. He cannot allow this match to go any further. Alexander Zenon has strayed dangerously close to some of Kibagami’s greatest weaknesses; to continue the match any longer than necessary would be folly.

The River Dragon grabs a handful of Zenon’s hair and begins to pull him to his feet – and suddenly doubles over in pain!

”GALATEA SPECIAL!” hollers Riley, and indeed it is – Kibagami collapses to the mat as Zenon pulls himself to his feet, ignoring Nick Soapdish’s futile admonitions against low blows.

“It pains me deeply every time I see that valiant man’s maneuver co-opted by the forces of evil,” sighs Comet.

Alex shoves the referee away before he can even begin counting – there’s no point; he knows Kibagami won’t stay down. But he has to stay down. He has to stay down.

The commissioner pulls a dazed Kibagami up to his feet and stands back to back with him, hooks his arms through Nathan’s, and pulls the larger man off his feet into a Gory Special.

“Zenon is setting Kibagami up for the Genocide Level Event! If he hits this, with the state Kibagami’s neck must be in...”

”Have faith, Bobby! Citizen Nathaniel will find a way to overcome this grave injustice – perhaps by kicking the dastardly Zenon in the face, somehow.” Comet tries to force a smile, but even he seems to think the situation grim as Zenon places his hands underneath Kibagami’s chin, bracing the River Dragon’s neck back against his shoulder –

BAM!

– before sitting out, driving Kibagami’s unprotected neck into his shoulder blade!

“ONE!”

Zenon rolls away from Kibagami, satisfied with his handiwork. Alex looks behind him and he sees Silent lying motionless in a pool of his own blood, the way it should have been. He starts to smile. He starts to think that maybe this is over.

“WOOOO!”

“This has got to be the end for Nathan! I don’t care what kind of surgery he had to repair that neck of his, but –“

“THREEEE!”

“– he CAN’T get back up from that one!”

“FOURRR!”

”I believe I heard you say that once before, Bobby.”

”FIIIIIIIVE!”

Comet focuses his attention on the ring. The chants, once again, are deafening.

SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...

”SIIIIIIIIIX!”

“You were wrong that time, too.”

Nathaniel Kibagami pushes himself to his hands and knees.

SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...

“SEVVVVVVVVVVEN!”

One knee.

SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...

Zenon picks up the chair.

“EIIIIIIIIIIIGHT!”

Two.

SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...

Zenon takes a step back.

SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...

This can’t be happening.

”NIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINE!”

CRRRRRRRRACK!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

“Zounds!”

CRRRRRRRRACK!

“Alex Zenon is assaulting Kibagami!”

CRRRRRRRRACK!

“Of course he is, Comet! Weren’t you paying attention? He almost got up from the GLE –“

**CA-FUCKING-RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!!**

“– and Zenon intends to keep him down!”

Zenon tosses the chair haphazardly into the center of the ring; he’s furious. He’s beside himself. Kibagami is supposed to be beaten and broken. Kibagami is supposed to be worn out and worn down. Kibagami is supposed to fall. The frustration on his face is evident as he stomps away at the River Dragon’s chest, his shoulders, his face, his neck. Why won’t he just quit? Why won’t he stay down? What else is he supposed to do, goddamn it?

He starts throwing closed fists, forearms, elbows, anything, everything he can think of. He kicks at Kibagami’s face, stomps on his legs and his ribs, drives elbow after elbow into his neck – he’s screaming obscenities, cursing, flecks of spittle flying from his mouth, his hair coated with his blood, his opponent’s blood, Soapdish tries to pull him off of the River Dragon and he shoves the referee away – he has got to keep him down.

“Alex Zenon is flying off the handle! He’s outraged! He’s crazed! He’s deranged!”

”He’s winning this match is what he’s doing!”

Zenon turns back to the chair – it’s caked with Kibagami’s blood.

That will end it. That has to end it.

The crowd is still chanting for Silent, but Alex ignores them – let them chant; they can’t save him that way. They chanted for Edwin, too. They chanted for Z. They didn’t save Edwin. They didn’t save him. Fuck them. They can stand to lose another one of their precious favorites. He pulls Kibagami roughly to his feet and picks him up over his shoulder, being careful to position Kibagami’s head a little below waist level. Slowly, methodically, he makes his way to the center of the ring, where the chair awaits him.

“Bobby, he’s going to drop him on the chair! That’s...that’s...it’s...”

”It’s criminal, right? That’s what you’re going to say, isn’t it? Well, criminal or not, it’s going to put Nathaniel Kibagami down for the ten-count, Comet, mark my words!”

The crowd senses what’s coming. The chants begin again, almost as if they could bring Kibagami to his senses, somehow allow him to escape the fate that is rushing to met him as Alex Zenon positions himself directly over the steel chair.

SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...

SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...

The chants are not enough.

Zenon sits out.

BAM!

”SWEET JUMPING JESUS WITH A CRUTCH ON A POGO STICK! ZENON JUST HIT THE EXTINCTION LEVEL EVENT ON THAT STEEL CHAIR!”

”This is heinous! Despicable! This is bad, Bobby! Kibagami’s neck simply cannot take this sort of abuse! As much as I hate to say it, citizen Nathaniel would be doing himself a favor by staying down!”

Zenon is exhausted, but a smile crosses his face as he rolls to his feet and Soapdish begins to count.

“ONE!”

He stands victorious over his opponent for the first time in almost two years – his return to an SWF ring is a triumphant one.

“TWOOOOO!”

He has vanquished his demons. He has righted all the wrongs. The fans don’t understand, not now, but they will in time. He has time, now. He can fix all of this.

“THREEEE!”

He has the time. He has the power. He has seen Nathaniel Kibagami fall the way he should’ve fallen all those months ago.

“FOURRR!”

He has won.

“FIIIIIIIIVE!”

Until the chants begin.

SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...

“SIIIIIIX!”

Nathaniel Kibagami has been here before. He is no stranger to defeat.

“SEVVVVVVEN!”

He has lost before, but he has never broken. To stay down is to break.

SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...

“EIIIIIIIIIIIGHT!”

Thoth. Janus. Angel. Nekura. None of them broke him.

“NIIIIIIIIIIIINE!”

He chased Edwin MacPhisto for seven years and beat him, like he’d never been beaten, in the center of the ring.

SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...

Nathaniel Kibagami does not break.

Not for anybody.

“TEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE –“

And most certainly not for Alexander Zenon.

RRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!

“HE’S UP! BOBBY, HE’S UP! CITIZEN NATHANIEL HAS BEATEN THE COUNT!” Comet is elated, Riley is distraught, and the arena EXPLODES in cheers, resplendent at seeing the River Dragon on his feet again!

“Goddamn it! I thought he was off the drugs! I want him tested! I want him retested! I want a recount and a recall, Comet! How in the hell is he still standing?!?”

”I don’t have a clue, Bobby, and neither does Zenon! Our dastardly commissioner looks to have run out of ideas at last!”

Alex simply stares at Kibagami as he moves unsteadily for his cane, his mouth hanging agape. Kibagami shouldn’t be able to get up. He just landed on a steel chair. On his neck. He’s off the drugs; Zenon had him tested three times this month. There’s no way he beat three tests in a row, so he has to be doing this on his own, somehow. He can’t process it. He can’t understand it. He has run out of options –

SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...

Alex Zenon can no longer see a way to win this match.

He sees the Slaughterer coming at him with the cane, murder in his eyes, and he stands rooted to the spot. Something has gone wrong in Zenon’s mind – he’s shell-shocked, burnt out, mentally exhausted. Everything he knew – or thought he knew – about Kibagami and about himself is suddenly wrong. For a long, long moment, he stands still, trying to reconcile all of this with the oncoming wrecking machine that Nathaniel Kibagami has become.

Finally, he moves.

CRRRRRRRRRRACK!

...too late.

“And now it’s time to pay the piper!”

CRRRRRRRRRRACK!

“How can you condone this, Comet?”

CRRRRRRRRRRACK!

“This is brutal!”

CRRRRRRRRRRACK!

“This is outrageous!”

CRRRRRRRRRRACK!

“This is the commissioner we’re talking about!”

CRRRRRRRRRRACK!

“He’s reaping what he’s sown, Bobby!”

CRRRRRRRRRRACK!

“He knew what he was getting into with this match –“

CRRRRRRRRRRACK!

“ – and he’s got no one else to blame but himself for the consequences!”

CRRRRRRRRRRACK!

The River Dragon slams the cane into Zenon’s ribs, his back, his shoulders, his thighs, and finally to his face – a gory stream of blood sprays from his nose, from the gashes on his forehead. Kibagami’s chest is heaving from the effort – he doesn’t have much left, and he knows it – but he seems to think it’s worth it. The chants, merely deafening before, now shake the arena to its foundations.

SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...

Nathaniel grabs a handful of Zenon’s blood-drenched hair and pulls him up to a sitting position.

SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...

Silent draws the cane back.

SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...

He earned this name.

**CA-FUCKING-RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!!**

The cane snaps in the middle as he brings it down across Alex Zenon’s face, splintering into dozens of pieces and flying wildly across the ring!

”JESUS CHRIST, man!”

”ONE!”

”TWOOOO!”

”That was...somebody check on the commissioner, would you? Tell the referee to stop counting! He could be injured, damn it!”

”THREEEE!”

”FOURRRR!”

SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...

“FIVVVVE!”

Somehow, Zenon moves.

“SIIIIIIIIX!”

He shoves himself up to his knees...and he stops.

“SEVVVVVEN!”

He breathes. The blood rushes down his face. It coats the canvas; it pools around the fragments of the cane.

“EIGHT!”

Kibagami must fall.

”NINE!”

Kibagami has to fall.

Edited April 26, 2004 by realitycheck

the.weej · April 26, 2004

Zenon staggers up to his feet. The crowd is in shock. Some of them actually applaud the commissioner’s resolve, but most simply continue chanting Silent’s name.

“I must say, Zenon is showing an impressive amount of resolve, but he simply can’t continue the match in this condition!” exclaims Comet. “He’s out on his feet – he’s practically a zombie! Citizen Nathaniel can fell him at will!”

”Don’t count him out yet, Comet...” Riley tries to find an angle to approach the situation from that will allow Alex to emerge victorious. “He could...he could get hold of the chair again, and...and...don’t count him out...yet?”

Zenon throws a wild roundhouse at Kibagami, but there’s nothing behind it. A forearm to the face stuns the River Dragon, but it does not truly give him pause. A swift knee to the gut halts Alex’s half-hearted attempt at a counter offensive, and Nathaniel grabs a handful of his opponent’s hair.

There is a moment where Kibagami considers his opponent. Zenon’s drive to destroy him remains, but the body simply cannot support the mind any longer. The commissioner is gone; willpower and adrenaline are the only things keeping him on his feet. Kibagami could use any move in the world to put him down for ten seconds. He could make any statement he wanted, debut anything he wanted, deliver any injury he wanted.

But this time, he will do no such thing. He has no reason to do so.

To Nathaniel Kibagami, Alexander Zenon is nothing special.

BAM!

Kibagami drives his fist into Zenon’s face, and the commissioner of the SWF topples.

“ONE!”

”TWOOOO!”

”What arrogance being displayed here! Zenon will be up from that in no time at all!”

”THREEEE!”

Zenon crawls to his hands and knees.

SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...

“FOURRRR!”

”I don’t know, Riley. Zenon hasn’t competed in two years – his body might not be able to hold out much longer!”

”FIIIIIIIIIIIVE!”

SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...

Zenon looks up. He hears the chants. He sees the fans up out of their seats.

He sees Kibagami in front of him.

Still ready. Still standing.

“SIIIIIIIIIX!”

The tears begin to well in Alex’s eyes.

”SEVVVVVVVVVVEN!”

SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...

“EIIIIIIIIIGHT!”

He collapses. A terrible, heart-wrenching sound escapes his mouth. Whether it’s moaning or crying or screaming or sobbing is anybody’s guess.

“NIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINE!”

There are some people that can wrestle a Last Man Standing match. There are some people that simply refuse to quit. They cannot give up. They do not know how.

Nathaniel Kibagami is one of those people, and he knows it. He believed that Alexander Zenon was not.

It would seem Nathaniel Kibagami was right.

“TEN!”

DING DING DING!

”Ladies and gentlemen, your winner....NATHANIEL KIBAGAMI!”

Kibagami walks slowly towards the turnbuckles, ignoring Soapdish’s attempt to raise his arm in victory. He climbs the turnbuckles slowly, methodically – the blood on his chest and face is still wet, his neck still burns, his arms still ache – he climbs to the top of the turnbuckles, raises his arms in the crucifix position, and silently acknowledges the fans that have chanted his name for the last twenty-odd minutes.

Alex Zenon rolls out of the ring, a look of horror on his face. He seems lost as he makes his way up the ramp – defeated, forgotten, broken. Alex Zenon has the look of a man that lost something irretrievable and doesn’t have the slightest idea how to find it again. He disappears into the trenches, into the back, wandering silently, trying to understand what it was that failed him in the ring this night.

“Citizen Nathaniel stands victorious after a hard-fought battle! I must say that I am impressed with Kibagami’s resolve – he seems to have recaptured his groove here tonight, as it were, and not a moment too soon!”

”He got lucky, Comet, that’s all! If Zenon had...maybe if...but then if he’d...goddamn it!” Bobby Riley is indignant, incoherent. “Son of a bitch, I don’t get this! Zenon had the match won and then he...he...to hell with this! I’m going to the club tonight!”

”That’s right, Bobbo. You go relax with your buddies at the Rainbow.”

”No, you don’t understand. I had a friend that worked there and – shit, used to work there – knew somebody that worked there – shit!”

Kibagami stands victorious atop the turnbuckles while his trademark cane lies shattered in the ring. He has not gained much tonight – he knew he could beat Zenon, knew he would beat Zenon, and he did. There is no sense of achievement in it. He realizes what he’s done to Alex tonight, and he doesn’t quite feel guilty about it, but another man has been broken in pursuit of his career, and he will remember that when he sleeps tonight.

He hears the fans still chanting his name as he climbs down and turns to take his leave. He walks over the shards of his cane without a second glance and makes his way out of the ring. Tonight may not have been a glorious victory, but it was far from a crushing defeat. He did not prove anything to himself, but maybe he has reminded the fans exactly how he made his name.

Nathaniel Kibagami is who is because he refuses to give up.

Perhaps, for tonight, that is enough.

the.weej · April 26, 2004

The University Arena in Albuquerque, New Mexico, lights up with excitement as the fans are ready for another exciting match! With Alex Zenon and Nathaniel Kibagami’s epic fight over with, the fans are primed for top-level action. Many are shown with blue “ICHIBAN” t-shirts and “Hardcore Queen” signs, while far fewer wear the blue and white Superior One rugby shirt.

“What can we say after that epic, epic battle?” says Cyclone Comet. “I don’t think either of those men will ever be the same.”

“Sure, you say that now,” says Riley. “Those two will be back to being wife-swapping buddies in no time.”

Comet stares at Riley.

“Or not,” the Outsider shrugs. “Anyway, what we have coming up is one of the best stipulations I’ve seen in a long time. There’s an attractive Asian woman on the line! Holy crap, can we get any better than that?”

“Methinks Sir Riley doth protest too much,” Comet deadpans.

“Unfortunately, Alex Zenon is overstepping his authority in a BIG way. As interim commissioner, he’s been nothing but a big case of PMS, and so he made this into a ladder match to destroy Tom Flesher’s chances of winning, the bastard!”

“It’s only fair that Ann Onita should get an advantage in this match,” Comet says. “She is, after all, Allison’s sister, and if Allison isn’t willing to take sides, then it has to be settled in the ring.”

DING DING!

Funyon, in his ever-stylish sparkly camouflage, stands in the center of the ring. “Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is a Ladder Match!” Immediately, the fans begin to cheer as the cable and clip are lowered from the ceiling. Funyon turns to the ramp, where a single 12-foot ladder has been erected by the staff. “And now, introducing the woman whose services are on the line… Allison Onita!”

Tool’s “Schism” blares as Ann Onita steps out from behind the curtain holding a laminated piece of paper in her hand. She struts out to the ring, with a decidedly mixed crowd reaction greeting her. She walks past the spent shells and fake land mines littering the ramp, and quickly enters the ring. Funyon holds the ropes for her, and she enters. She steps to each corner, saluting the fans, before going back to the center of the ring. There, she clips the contract into the steel cable and takes a facetious bow. The cable is retracted, and as the contract rises, Allison steps out of the ring to take her seat at the timekeeper’s table.

“And there’s what all the fighting’s about,” says Bobby Riley. “Mm-mm, would I like to be her.”

Comet raises an eyebrow.

“What? She’s got a great seat!”

“True, but I don’t see what her rear end has to do with….”

As the slow intro of "Risky Gamble" by Megumi Hayashibara plays, the suit-clad Ann appears on the SmarkTron, shown sideways with her hand extended like a gun. The viewpoint rotates until the shot is dead straight with Ann's finger. The song kicks into high gear just as she 'shoots', causing a blue pyrotechnic explosion to occur on the entrance ramp. Annie walks out with cigar in hand. She steps out, focused, and blows a smoke ring from her cigar. The fans cheer for her, already bursting into the “IT-CHEE-BAN!” chant that they use to cheer her on. As she slowly walks to the ring, she looks at her sister. She stops at the timekeeper’s table, leaving her cigar and fedora in front of Allison, and then slides into the ring.

“The first competitor… from Tokyo, Japan, and weighing 175 pounds, she is the Hardcore Queen… she is ANN ‘ICHIBAN’ ONITA!”

The music fades, and for a moment, nothing happens over the sound system. The fans continue chanting, “IT-CHEE-BAN! IT-CHEE-BAN!” The pause is pregnant, and soon…

BOOM!

An explosion of blue smoke and pyro lights up the University Arena! The fans boo as the first symphonic strains of Led Zeppelin’s “Kashmir” begin to blare over the speakers! Tom Flesher walks through the curtain, his warm-up suit glistening as the flashbulbs and pyro surround him. He struts slowly out from the backstage area, pausing in the middle of the ramp as the first verse ends and the symphonic hook plays over the speaker. He poses, fireworks going off behind him and silhouetting him. The fans boo, but Flesher ignores them as he resumes his trip to the ring.

He walks past Allison, smiling at her. She smiles and blushes, looking down at the table. He slides into the ring and steps to the center, posing just as the second orchestral breakdown starts. This time, the fireworks shoot from the cornerposts, and the fans continue booing loudly. As the hook ends, the music fades, and the lights come back up. Flesher steps to the corner, where he strips his warm-up off and stretches out for a few seconds. Ann Onita coolly stares him down as the timekeeper rings the bell.

DING DING DING!!!!

“And this one’s underway,” says Riley. “No more nice-guy crap between these two. They know each other too well to worry about locking up or testing strength. Tonight, it’s all about beating the crap out of each other to see who’s going to take Allison home at the end of the night!”

Allison sits at the timekeeper’s table, nervously looking on. Ann and Tom, meanwhile, move toward each other. Before Ann can get to him, Flesher throws out a stiff kick to her left thigh! She stops in her tracks as Flesher repeats the kick, nailing her in the quad once again. The fans boo as Flesher steps forward, hammering the stunned Onita with a palm strike that puts her on her back on the mat! Flesher plants a foot on her stomach and nonchalantly walks across Ann’s body, drawing a chorus of boos from the crowd as he struts toward the ropes. He leans over, grinning at Allison, and shouts, “You know you want it!” The crowd boos even louder as Allison blushes and looks down at the table.

“Tom Flesher takes the early lead,” says Bobby Riley, “coming right out of the gate and pounding Ann Onita. He almost makes it look easy, doesn’t he, Comet?”

“I’m sure that for both athletes it IS easy. They’ve spent as much time honing their skills as I have repairing this very cape after having it torn by rogues in my battles against evil and honey-mustard sauce.”

“… what?”

“It’s an instrument of the devil, Robert.”

Ann sits up and starts to get to her feet as Flesher turns around to strut back to the center. She steps in, catching him off-guard with a quick kick to the ribs. He lurches backwards as Ann angles in, throwing a quick right hand that he deflects by popping an arm up to block it! He throws the hand upward and ducks down, high-diving into a trapped-arm bear hug. He steps around and tosses Annie to the side with a Greco-Roman lateral drop! He unlocks his hands as she hits the mat and rolls to the side, while he gets up to his feet at a leisurely pace. Ann rolls to her hands and knees, trying to recover from having the wind knocked out of her by the throw, and starts to push off the mat. Flesher steps back, measuring the distance by playfully holding up a thumb and making sure Ann is in line, and then launches his body at her with a dropkick to her left hip! Her leg collapses inward and she falls to her side as Flesher stands up, dusting his hands off.

“Well, without a doubt the Superior Citizen is in control early in the match,” says Comet. “However, collapsing Ann Onita’s left leg isn’t going to get him to the top of the ladder any faster than running laps around the ring.”

“Obviously,” Riley says, “he’s preventing her from climbing the ladder. Nothing wrong with that.”

“Ah, acting prophylactically,” deadpans Comet.

Riley snickers.

“What? It’s a very chic word.”

“True,” chuckles Riley. “And this is pay-per-view. Lord knows we don’t have to be Spartan about our language.”

“We may in fact be Trojan.”

Flesher reaches down as Ann begins to get up and helps her to her feet by pulling her up by the tie. He yanks the tie forward and pulls Onita straight into a palm strike. As she collapses, he leans against the ropes, pretending to look at his watch.When Ann doesn’t get up immediately, he yawns and leans into the corner. The crowd, of course, reacts by booing.

“Flesher could, of course, be acting more productively,” says Cyclone Comet. “Rather than mocking Ann Onita, he could be bringing a ladder in from the outside and climbing to get Allison’s contract.”

“And that, my friend, is why you were never the SWF Light Heavyweight Champion,” says Bobby Riley. “Or much of anything else. The instant that ladder gets into the ring, if Ann Onita can move, she’s going to start with the flip-floppy crap.”

“We prefer to describe it as ‘gymnastic ability,’” says Comet.

“So Flesher’s going to make sure that Ann’s neutralized before he starts the climb. He has time,” says Riley. “Why rush things?”

Ann starts to her feet, and Flesher lazily kicks at her knee. She feints backwards, avoiding the kick as the fans cheer. Ann ducks and drives into the corner with her shoulder, knocking Flesher backwards! He grabs the ropes, holding himself up as Ann knocks the wind out of him. He tries to fight his way out of the corner, but Onita ducks down and nails him with another shoulder thrust. She steps back as he recovers and quickly flicks him in the stomach with a lightning-fast boot. The fans applaud as she steps onto the bottom rope and uses the extra elevation to plant the kick in his chest. From there, she steps up to the middle rope and Flesher eats a boot to the face that he didn’t even see coming! His head snaps backwards, and he slumps into the corner. She grabs him by the head and plants both feet into his stomach. Ann falls backwards, rolling over and extending both legs to throw Flesher onto the canvas with a monkey flip! He skids a few inches and sits up, holding his back. Ann, on the other hand, shakes out her leg as she rolls over.

“Perhaps not the best choice of maneuvers,” says Cyclone Comet. “Even a chimp should have known better than to attempt that monkey flip.”

“Well, no one ever said that Ann Onita had much upstairs. Allison was always the brains of the operation.”

“Is that why she’s sitting at the timekeeper’s table cooing like a child at everything Tom Flesher does?” asks Comet. “Is that why she was roped into whatever Thoth wanted her to do in the Clan?”

“Hey, she picks her associates carefully. What can I say?”

Ann stands up, shaking out her leg and seeming alright. Flesher gets up as well, not appearing to feel any lingering effects. Ann moves toward him, and he drops quickly down. He extends his body, taking an amateur-style penetration step and hooking Ann’s ankle. As she tries to keep her balance, Flesher picks the ankle and takes her to the mat with a low single-leg takedown. He stands up, trying to hook her for a half crab, but she quickly kicks him in the chest with her free leg and he releases her. He drops back into his stance as she gets up, and before she gets her footing he blasts her with a double-leg takedown! Again, he stands up, this time with both legs hooked. He tries to step over into a Boston crab, but Ann keeps her back rigid and he’s unable to turn her. She kicks her legs free and scoots back before sitting up. Flesher sighs, frustrated that he can’t hook her legs, and throws a dropkick at the seated Onita’s face. She eats it and flops backwards as Flesher rolls back and comes to rest on his knees.

“Unfortunately, Flesher’s plan of attack doesn’t seem to be working,” says Bobby Riley. “Ann knows his game inside-out, and she just knows better than to give up her legs and let her knee be destroyed.”

“It’s easy to give her credit for knowing the game plan, but you also need to acknowledge that she’s clearly been working to avoid the holds,” says Comet. “She’s obviously been training different ways to avoid leg attacks, doing some prophylactic work of her own.”

Flesher, frustrated, glares at Ann as they both start to get up. He drops down and shoots again, and this time Ann defends only slightly, knowing she can avoid whatever hold he’s going for after the fact. Instead of taking her down, however, he shoots an arm up between her thighs and grabs her head with the other hand. He stands up, pulling her across his shoulders, and catches her in a fireman’s carry! The crowd gasps as he adjusts for a Death Valley Driver, but Ann quickly begins wriggling and writhing to make him lose his balance. Rather than fall, Flesher simply shrugs her weight to the leg side and drops her unceremoniously on her ass. He spins around as she sits up and nails her in the side of the head with a Doc Marten boot, knocking her silly. He looks out at the ladder, pausing for a second. Then, he shakes his head as he turns around to face Ann again. Quickly, he drops a knee onto her shoulder, then grabs her head. He sits her up, plants a knee into the small of her back and slaps on a reverse chinlock. Immediately, the fans begin to boo.

“With his original plan backfiring,” says Comet, “Tom Flesher seems to be making up a new strategy as he goes along, and is benefiting himself by taking a break to consider different courses of action.”

“Because it’s SO unusual for Flesher to attack the neck,” says Riley, dripping with sarcasm. “Has it ever occurred to you that maybe he’s dancing with the girl that brought him and just planning to attack Ann’s head?”

“It did, but then I realized that he thought he was going to waltz in here and destroy Ann Onita’s knee, so I decided he doesn’t deserve that much credit.”

Flesher drives his knee into Onita’s back, tightening the chinlock and pulling back on her neck. With his free hand, he grabs a handful of her bobbed hair and pulls back. The fans boo loudly as he yanks back on her hair, but he simply continues. Ann reaches up, peeling his hand out of her hair, and allowing him to regrip across her neck with both hands. She grabs at his hands, trying to peel them apart, but he continues trying to tighten the grip. Finally, she succeeds in peeling a few of his fingers apart, and even as he tries to twine his fingers back together, she manages to pull the hands apart. He stands up, pulling her up with him, and yanks his arms back from over her shoulders. Tom ducks down, throwing his arms around Ann’s waist to look for a German suplex… but the Hardcore Queen kicks one leg up behind her and nails him in the crotch! The fans applaud as Allison cringes on the outside.

“Oooh,” says Riley. “That’s gotta hurt!”

“Flesher attacks Onita’s head, and Onita responds by attacking Flesher’s… head,” says Comet with a shrug. “There’s something oddly poetic about that.”

Ann spins around as Flesher doubles over in pain. He grabs his groin, obviously in great distress, but Ann simply grabs him in a front facelock. In one fluid motion, she falls backwards and sends Flesher head-first to the mat with a DDT! The crowd cheers as Allison looks on with great concern. Ann stands up, looks out of the ring and points at the ladder! The fans scream their approval as Ann poses, milking the reaction for all it’s worth.

“And now,” says Comet, “Ann Onita is going to put the ladder in this ladder match! It’s about time, Ann!”

“Christ,” murmurs Riley. “Flesher’s last two pay-per-view matches were ladder matches. Why isn’t he being allowed to WRESTLE?”

“It seems to me,” says Comet, “that Alex Zenon explained that to him. Allison is Ann’s sister, so Ann gets the advantage in the match. Tom didn’t have to sign the contract, but he decided that Allison’s… services are worth the risk.”

“Surely you’re not implying that Tom Flesher expect anything but managerial advice and possibly the odd hotel booking from Allison Onita,” gasps Riley. “To imply that Flesher’s intentions are less than pure is an assault on his honor!”

“It seems to me that he’s been assaulting his own honor a lot lately, and that’s why he wants Allison.”

Ann slides out of the ring, moving to the one large ladder set up in the entranceway. As she does, Flesher starts to very slowly get to his hands and knees, still looking sick from the blow to the gonads.

“Tom’s certainly quite a man,” says Bobby Riley. “He’s just sucking it up and trying to shake off that completely unethical treatment of his testicles.”

“I’ve always wondered,” says Comet. “Why don’t wrestlers wear protective support?”

“You know,” Riley replies, “I’ve never even thought of that. Not only would it protect his fuzzy dice, but Annie would have practically broken her hand when she tried to roll them.”

“It sounds to me like Tom’s lack of proper equipment is throwing his strategy off,” says Comet. “Too bad he isn’t wearing headgear. Or something to protect his ears.”

Somewhere, someone hits a rimshot.

On the outside, Ann folds the ladder up as Tom Flesher gets to his feet. Still shaken, he staggers toward the ropes as Ann picks up the ladder and turns toward the ring. With the ladder vertical, she can’t see Flesher as he slides toward her! Holding the middle rope, he executes a quick and dirty baseball slide that sends Ann rocketing backwards with the ladder on top of her! She falls onto the ramp next to an exploded shell with the ladder landing on top, and Allison cringes.

Flesher oozes out of the ring, still not having much starch in him. He gets his footing on the mat as the stunned Ann Onita shakes the ladder off and rolls to the side. Flesher grabs her by the hair and lifts her to her feet. Holding her head, he gets a running start and introduces her intimately to the ring steps! The sound of Ann’s head colliding with the hollow steel echoes throughout the arena as Ann staggers backwards, but Flesher holds her by the tie and pulls her back toward the ladder. He grabs her in a front facelock and ducks his head down, then quickly pulls her over with a vertical suplex onto the ladder! The fans boo as Ann arches her back, in obvious pain, and convulses as she lays across the ladder. Flesher, for his part, picks up the ladder and shakes her off it callously. Then, he takes the still-folded ladder and slides it under the bottom rope. He leaves the folded ladder in the ring and turns back to Ann Onita, who still lays on the ramp. He grabs her by the head and lifts her to her feet, where she stands shakily. He wraps his arms around her chest and arches backwards, throwing her over his head and onto her back with a Railgun suplex! She lands hard and arches her back again as Flesher gets up, shakes off the last of his cobwebs and dusts himself off. Ann, meanwhile, sits up slowly.

“It doesn’t seem like anything Flesher’s doing is putting Ann Onita out of commission the way he expects it to,” says Cyclone Comet. “He seems to be throwing thirty feet when he aims for fifty.”

“How can you say that? It’s still early in the match,” gripes Riley. “He hasn’t even had a chance to hit most of his stuff yet.”

“Normally, you’d be right, but Flesher has been able to pick and choose his attacks,” explains Comet. “And Ann Onita has just been able to get up from just about everything without a second though. Citizen Flesher is going to have to, shall we say, put his mule into gear if he wants to win the legal rights to Allison Onita.”

Flesher climbs onto the apron and rolls into the ring, completely ignoring Ann on the outside. He picks up the ladder, and all of a sudden, the fans start to cheer. He turns back and sees Onita off the floor and on her feet. She slides into the ring, and he quickly disposes of the ladder by leaning it in the corner. As Ann enters the ring, she’s greeted by Flesher turning back and baseball-sliding into her to nail her in the head with the soles of his Docs. She shakes off the force of the blow as Tom gets back up and lifts her to her feet. She struggles, but he guides her over to the ladder and slams her into it. Shaken, she stands still for a few seconds as he chops her across the chest. She tries to absorb the chops, and after she takes a few, she answers back with a stiff right hand to the face. Flesher grits his teeth and tries to ignore the force of the blow, throwing a few more chops. He stops only when Ann can throw another punch, which catches him squarely in the jaw. His head snaps to the side, and though he quickly turns his head back toward his opponent, he can’t pretend that one didn’t hurt. Tom quickly drives a knee into Onita’s midsection, doubling her over. He reaches down, grabbing her by the head and neck, and backs up until he reaches the center of the ring. There, he lies in wait as Ann struggles to free herself.

“This… THIS is a smart move,” says Riley. “He’s going to lean on Ann’s neck, fatiguing the muscles and cutting off some of the all-important oxygen flow. Meanwhile, she’s carrying 230 extra pounds…”

“230 plus, Robert.”

“… and having to fight to get herself free,” Riley finishes pointedly. “It’s not the most exciting way to put an opponent out, but Flesher’s worried about winning, not putting butts in the seats.”

The fans certainly agree. Flesher stays in the center of the ring, just leaning on Ann as she fights to get free. The crowd lets him know how they feel, bursting into a chant of “BORING! BOOOOOOOORING!” Flesher simply shrugs, tightening the headlock. At the table, Allison Onita looks annoyed, but concentrates on the action in the ring.

Ann reaches up, hooking Flesher’s arm at the elbow. She tries to pass the elbow by to use the traditional counter to the front headlock, but Flesher maintains his position and reasserts the lock. As he feels Ann getting ready to try again, he steps back and drops to one knee, slamming her face into his bent leg! Ann springs back up and falls backwards, holding her face as Flesher stands up and sighs. He puts his hands on his hips and mockingly shakes his head.

“Well will you look at that?” Riley asks. “He’s sorry he had to do that. What a guy.”

He swaggers over and grabs Ann around the waist, casually attempting to grab her for the Ego Buster! Of course, he hasn’t prepared her for it adequately, and so Ann curls her body around his leg to counter the hold. He tries to lift her anyway, but succeeds only in Ann spinning around and schoolboying him onto his back. He makes no effort to kick out, though, and she quickly backs away, having rolled him up only to complete the counter. He gets to his feet, but before he can attack, Ann jumps into the air and hits him in the face with a Drop Kiss! He staggers backwards to the ropes, and Ann catches his arm. She spins around and whips him to the ropes again. As he bounces off, she ducks down and throws him overhead with a back body drop! Flesher lands hard on the mat, and the fans cheer.

“And Ann Onita has taken charge!” shouts Comet. “She may not have a good record against Flesher, but she’s learned something from every match they’ve had.”

“Sure, you say that now,” says Bobby Riley, “but you just wait until she eats an Unprettier and goes down for the count. Flesher’s always got something else up his sleeve, and that’s why Ann Onita is never, ever going to beat him. Understand that? Never.”

Tom Flesher sits up, but Ann Onita quickly renews her control. She grabs his wrist and whips him into the corner where the ladder leans against the turnbuckles! Flesher collides with the ladder back-first, sending a horrible rattling sound echoing through the arena. Ann backs into the opposite corner and gets a running start, then dives onto her hands. She springs off them, twisting in the air and landing on her feet before rocketing herself backwards to hit Flesher in the face with a handspring elbow! She leaps forward, hitting the mat running to control her momentum. Flesher, meanwhile, staggers forward. He takes one step, then another before finally flopping forward onto his face. The crowd, simply put, explodes!

Ann, meanwhile, grabs the ladder from behind Flesher and brings it to the center. As the fans continue cheering, she sets the ladder up in the middle of the ring and begins to climb. She gets a few rungs up before Tom Flesher sits up and grabs the foot of the ladder. He pulls himself to his feet, shaking the ladder and making Ann stop climbing and hold tight. He steps around the ladder, grabbing Ann by the ankle. She kicks to push him away, but he yanks down on the ankle and pulls her back to the mat. As she lands, he steps forward, rocking her with a palm strike that sends her collapsing to the mat! With that, Flesher begins to climb the ladder himself.

“This is what he needs to do,” says Riley. “Tom Flesher needs to just beat Ann Onita like a red-headed stepchild and put her out of her misery. Maybe she can see it coming when he tries to attack her leg, and maybe she can soak more punishment than your average Japanese girl, but if Flesher just sticks to it there’s no way she’s going to be able to outfight him.”

“You don’t give Ann Onita much credit, do you? You have to keep in mind that she was one of the top SJL prospects, and has consistently been near the top of the SWF rankings despite the occasional falter or strange plan of attack.”

“You’re talking about Beezel, aren’t you?” Riley chuckles. “Yeah, if I dressed up in a flaming red suit and danced around, do you know what they’d call me?”

“They already call you most of it, Robert. Just not to your face.”

As Flesher gets a few rungs up the ladder, Ann Onita gets to her feet. She reaches up and grabs Flesher by the leg. He tries to shake her off, but she responds by pulling him downward. He keeps his grip on the ladder, but Ann pulls even harder and this time she manages to bring Flesher down. Tom, however, turns and faces Ann, and as he falls, he nails her in the face with a diving Yakuza kick! Ann collapses to the mat, and Flesher starts a golf clap for himself as he catches his balance. The fans respond with a chorus of boos.

“Once again, we have Flesher demonstrating his superior skill,” says Riley. “Ann Onita gets pulled off the ladder, and she eats a shotei. Tom Flesher gets pulled off the ladder, and she eats a Yakuza kick. You’re telling me this guy isn’t the top fighter in the fed?”

“To the contrary, Charles Matthews is the top competitor in the SWF today, as he holds the undisputed championship of the world,” says Cyclone Comet. “Tom Flesher will only have cause to contest that if he can gain possession of the title belt again.”

“You’re telling me that meaningless piece of tin determines who’s got the most skill? You’ve gotta be kidding me. That’s like saying Johnny Dangerous is the most talented cruiser in the world right now.”

The crowd continues booing Flesher as he takes Ann’s head and lifts her to her feet. He angles her toward the ladder and jerks back, suplexing Ann over and into the ladder! She collides with the steel, and as she rebounds Flesher throws her forward! She bounces stomach-first off the top rope, and Flesher leaves her hanging there as he turns away and straightens the ladder. Then, he begins to scale it, moving toward the contract that hangs from the top of the arena.

“This could be it,” says Bobby Riley. “Ann Onita’s not going to be able to catch up with Tom, not after having the wind knocked out of her like that.”

Flesher rapidly ascends, moving relatively quickly. As he does, though, Ann Onita shakes herself off the top rope. She looks up at Flesher and quickly realizes that if she doesn’t do something to stop him from getting to the top, she’ll lose her twin sister to him within a matter of seconds. From there, she makes a relatively simple decision. She plants her feet on the mat and pulls back hard on the top rope. Flesher continues climbing, oblivious to her actions. She leaps up and springs off the top rope, throwing a missile dropkick and executing a surgical strike on his body! Flesher, caught completely by surprise, falls off the ladder and lands flatly on his back on the mat! Ann, able to control her fall a little better, hits the mat but quickly stands up and dusts herself off. She seems recovered, although she pauses to catch her breath as the dazed Flesher tries unsuccessfully to do the same while laying on his back.

“Ann Onita takes to the air like the flying avatar of Justice!” shouts Comet, fulfilling his merchandising requirement for the match. “She picks Tom Flesher off the ladder with expert precision and sends him to the mat in a heap! As always, Tom Flesher is in a ladder match against an opponent who is simply much, much better suited for the surroundings than he is.”

“If it weren’t for Alex God Damn Zenon, he wouldn’t have to be! I have it on good authority that Mark Stevens was VERY unhappy with the… executive fiat that Zenon used to force Flesher into such a bad situation. Stevens would have given Flesher the pure wrestling rules match that he wanted and let them settle it on EVEN ground!”

“Oh, Robert. I doubt that for so, so many reasons.”

Ann lifts Flesher up and holds him for a second. She starts to whip him to the corner, but changes her mind. Instead, the Ichiban Wrestler winds up and slaps Flesher hard across the face! His head snaps to the side as a red mark begins to rise on his cheek. The Superior One, however, is unable to fight back, still stunned from his ladder fall. A smirk spreads across Ann’s face as she holds his head and guides him to the turnbuckle, slamming him headfirst into the turnbuckle! The fans applaud as Flesher staggers backwards. Ann, however, holds him and turns him around. She shoves him into the corner, then quickly kicks him in the thigh. Flesher collapses into a sitting position, and the fans burst into applause!

“Oh my god,” murmurs Riley.

Ann lifts her boot and forcefully plants it on Flesher’s face. As the fans begin to scream their approval, Ann scrapes the sole of her boot across Flesher’s face! Flesher, on the receiving end of his own assault on dignity, throws his hands up to try to alleviate the pain. Ann kicks them down, though, and scrapes her boot across his face once again! Flesher cries out in pain and tries to cover his face, but Ann instead steps back. As soon as he lets his guard down, she jumps and nails him in the face with a Drop Kiss! Flesher slumps down in the corner, semi-conscious, as Ann rolls back to her feet. She starts a golf-clap for herself, drawing a huge round of applause from the fans. Allison Onita, on the other hand, simply watches sourly.

“Ann Onita seems to be the victim of some sort of personality-switching curse!” shouts Cyclone Comet. “Some sort of mind-control ray, perhaps, is causing her to behave just like Tom Flesher and treat him with the same disregard for his dignity as he treats her and all other opponents!”

“You’re an idiot,” sighs Riley.

“Well, those looking for a more mundane explanation…” Comet looks sideways at Riley… “might say that Ann Onita is finally in control of the situation and is attacking Tom Flesher to show him the disrespect he shows so many of his opponents. Finally in a position of power, she simply wants to beat Flesher senseless with his own arsenal.”

With the former World Champion still stunned, Ann lifts him to his feet and leans him against the turnbuckles. He starts to fall, and so she supports him by hooking both his arms over the ropes. Then, she backs into the center of the ring, where the ladder still stands. She gets a running start and charges at Flesher, popping her foot up to hit him with a Yakuza kick! He ducks, though, at the last possible second! Ann spears into the turnbuckle at top speed, slamming her foot into it! Flesher stands up and turns around as Ann gets her foot free and regains her balance. As she turns, Tom nails her in the chest with a chop! Ann stumbles back into the corner, and Flesher follows up with a stiff shotei to the jaw. As her head snaps back, Ann seems to be in trouble. Flesher takes full advantage, grabbing her wrist and whipping her down the side of the ring and into the corner!

“This does NOT look good for the home team,” says Riley. “Ann Onita may be able to absorb huge amounts of damage, she may be able to play Tom Flesher on TV for a few minutes, and she may be able to throw his first strategy out the window, but there’s absolutely no way she can take whatever he’s about to throw at her and survive.”

“True,” says Comet, “Ann’s head has been especially fragile of late, and she’s been attempting to protect it throughout the match with varying degrees of success. If Tom Flesher succeeds in executing an attack to the head, Ann Onita could be through for the evening.”

“The evening? He could retire her!”

Ann slumps in the corner, and Flesher charges at her with his arm cocked. He seems ready to eat a boot to the face, but Ann isn’t able to stop him! Instead, he practically sprints through her as he slams a shotei into her face and stuns her! He bounces back, trying to control the momentum, and seems almost surprised that he managed to complete the move. Ann shakes her head, apparently barely in this world. Flesher catches his breath and begins scaling the ropes.

“Oh, dear god,” says Comet. “He’s not going to try the Ego Trip… he wouldn’t dare!”

“Why not?” Riley chortles. “If there’s one way to put Ann Onita out, that’s it. Aside from the Unprettier, of course.”

Flesher climbs the ropes slowly, still recovering from the beating he’s received through the match. Ann tries to shake off the impact of the shotei, but can’t seem to drag herself away from the corner to avoid the deadly Ego Trip. Finally, Flesher gets to the top rope. He sits there and braces his knee against the back of Ann’s head, locking his hands on her temples. Before he can continue, though, Ann staggers forward. He tries to hold her back, but she spins through and hooks one elbow under his cocked knee. Flesher struggles to free the leg, leaning down to throw a shotei at her head. She sees it coming, though, and quickly deflects the blow to the other side. As he leans forward, off balance, she yanks down on the arm and pulls him into a fireman’s carry! The fans scream their approval as Ann backs away from the corner, making sure he can’t back into the buckle. Then, as she reaches up and hooks his head, she falls to the side with a Death Valley Driver!

“Oh, sweet holy Zeus!” shouts Comet. “He landed straight on top of his head!”

Flesher lands on the crown of his head and rolls through onto his BUTT. Ann gets up as Flesher, obviously stunned, pops up off the mat nonetheless. He stumbles toward her, hooking her head with a sickeningly stiff lariat and taking her to the mat as he collapses! There, the two warriors lay… Ann stunned by the takedown, Flesher having used his last ounce of strength to put his opponent out of commission.

“And look at that!” says Riley. “Look at the toughness Tom Flesher is showing by going after Ann Onita, regardless of what he’s going through! Look at how much he wants Allison’s management!”

“Her management,” says Comet sarcastically. “Frankly, I doubt Flesher even has much use for Allison Onita. He’s only trying to beat Ann to show his superiority. There’s nothing to gain from defeating her.”

“Hey, don’t try to pin this on Taamo,” Riley protests. “Ann’s the one who wouldn’t share Allison.”

Flesher slowly pushes himself to his feet, shaking off the head bump as is his standard procedure. Ann still lays on the mat, kayoed by the clothesline after fighting through a stiff shotei and various other forms of assault throughout the match. Flesher nudges her to her stomach with his Doc Marten, then squats down behind her. He reaches down and grabs her by the hips in a waistlock, tightening it his lock. He stands up, and in one fluid motion power-cleans her off the mat! He arches backwards and slams her to the mat with a German suplex that echoes through the arena! Breathing hard, he rolls over, maintaining his lock and making sure to keep Ann from getting to her feet. Once again, he crouches behind her and hoists her off the mat in a single motion. He arches back again and screams out loud as he throws Ann’s body back, releasing her at the high point so that she flips through the air and lands on her stomach! Flesher falls to the mat, exhausted, and lays on his stomach breathing hard as Ann rockets to the canvas.

“He suplexed her so hard she flipped!” shouts Riley.

“Flesher, though, seems to have de-starched himself once again by reaching down too deep into his reserves to hit that pair of German suplexes,” notes Comet. “And once again, both competitors are out of commission. There’s no ten-count in this match, so one would assume that they’ll just lay there until one of them wakes up. This match MUST have a winner.”

Flesher lays on the mat, his head extending out under the bottom rope, as Ann lays in the corner. Concerned, Allison Onita leaps up from the table and sprints… to Tom Flesher. Immediately, the fans begin to boo as she tends to him, trying to bring him back to his senses.

“And look what we have here,” says Cyclone Comet. “I think it’s clear now where Allison Onita’s allegiances lie.”

“Oh, come on,” Riley spits. “The timekeeper’s table is right there! If Ann had landed there, Allison would be waking her up. Why do you have to look for evil everywhere, Comet?”

“It’s my job, Robert – to seek out and combat evil, and pursue the frameworks of JUSTICE~!”

Flesher’s sleepy eyes open as Allison tends to him, patting his cheek and trying to rouse him from his semi-conscious state. He smiles blearily at her, starting to slowly get to his feet. Meanwhile, on the opposite side of the ring, Ann Onita is holding on to the middle rope. The fans begin to cheer as they see her pulling herself slowly to her feet. Allison, seeing nothing, gently shakes Flesher, trying to rouse him back to consciousness. He comes up to his knees as Ann staggers toward the ladder and begins to climb. The fans scream their approval as Ann ascends the ladder, getting closer and closer to the top with each passing step. Allison looks up, and her eyes open wide. She screams and points at the ladder, and Flesher’s head swivels back. He sees Ann halfway up the ladder and immediately springs to his feet. Still wobbly, he staggers to the ladder and begins climbing after her. He quickly makes up the ground, fighting tooth and nail to catch up with Ann before she gets to the top of the ladder. Finally, as she’s just about to reach the top, Flesher wraps his arms around her waist and steps down a rung. Ann reaches out, her fingers brushing against the contract as it swings in the air, but the fans groan with disappointment as she can’t get a grip on it. Flesher plants his feet and arches back, throwing Ann over his head with what looks like another 360-degree German suplex! He throws backwards, releasing Ann a beat later than usual as he tries to keep his balance on the ladder. Ann feels this and crouches down, managing to control the fall and land on her hands and feet! The crowd bursts into applause!

“Ann Onita once again shows why they’ve called her the Angel for much of her career, falling gracefully out of a brutal German suplex and somehow managing to right herself!” says Comet. “You have to admire that athleticism!”

“She got lucky!” Riley shouts. “That’s not right!”

“It’s not right that Allison Onita woke Thomas up and kept her sister from winning the match, either! You saw how close Ann was to the contract! If Tom Flesher hadn’t been alerted to Ann’s ascent, there’s no way he would have been able to stop her!”

Flesher continues climbing, slowing down as he’s unaware that Ann landed safely. He slugs on, smirking as he gets closer to the top with a slow and steady ascent. Ann starts climbing up after him, however, and quickly hooks both his ankles. His eyes open to roughly the size of dinner plates as he realizes that Ann Onita is about to pull him to his imminent demise! She screams, letting her emotion getting the best of her, and then jumps back, yanking Flesher off the ladder at a dangerous trajectory. Flesher falls, and as he lands, his face smashes into one of the steps of the ladder! The fans leap to their feet to cheer as Ann shoves him aside and begins climbing.

“And Ann Onita’s fighting spirit takes over!” marvels the masked marvel. “She’s willing to dig down deep and do anything to take the inky black stain of Tom Flesher off of her sister!”

“It’s actually more of a creamy yellow stain,” Riley points out helpfully.

Ann continues climbing, trying to scurry up the ladder as quickly as possible. Flesher follows her up, though, and – failing any other valid course of action – goes back to Plan A. He grabs Ann’s left thigh and begins throwing elbows, palm strikes and headbutts at it to try to collapse it before she can continue her climb. Desperately, he spikes the steely point of his elbow into the meaty quadriceps muscle. Ann cringes, but tries to fight on. She turns to face Flesher, kicking at his chest to try to shrug him off of her lower body. Frantically, Flesher simply continues doing anything he can to destroy her quad.

“Tom Flesher is trying any avenue he can find,” observes Comet, “but even Saks’ Fifth Avenue won’t help him now, despite being one exciting store! Nor will the Avenue of the Americas do him any good, with Ann hailing from Tokyo! No, Tom Flesher has no recourse! None!”

Finally, he throws one more headbutt at her thigh, which she averts by sliding the leg to one side. Flesher slams his head into the steel rung, but before it can rebound, Ann brings her knees back in to the center! Perched precariously on the ladder, Ann tightens the scissors around Flesher’s head and reaches down, hooking both of his arms behind his back. She steps down a rung for better balance and tightens the double underhook, then leaps off to the side! She pulls Flesher’s body to the side with her, and falls from the middle of the ladder to the mat, knees-first, with a devastating Daybreak!

“DAY BREAKS FOR ANN ONITA!” screams Comet. “She takes Tom Flesher to the mat with a deadly Daybreak pedigree, and it’s all over!”

“No one’s getting up from that,” says Bobby Riley. “It’s… just too much. It was too much when Mark Stevens called it the Walk-Off, it was too much when it put Danny Williams on his back every time he took it, and it’s too much for even Tom Flesher falling off the ladder.”

“And Ann Onita is about to take the managerial services of her sister!”

Tom lays in a heap on the mat, barely breathing. Allison Onita scurries to the ring to check on him once again, but even she realizes that it’s not going to happen. Crestfallen, she climbs onto the apron to tend to Flesher as Ann aloofly begins climbing the ladder.

“And there you have it,” says Cyclone Comet. “Even with her sister about to win the match, Allison Onita is more concerned with that debilitating personality, Tom Flesher, than with congratulating her own flesh and blood. How very, very sad, and what a testament to Flesher’s mastermind abilities – that he could control a girl so thoroughly.”

“Is it Tom’s fault he’s charismatic?” spits Riley. “I think not. Why do you always assume he’s up to no good? Can’t Tom just do something for the sake of doing it, without some ulterior motive?”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Ann continues climbing as some fans murmur about Flesher’s condition, while some merely cheer on Ichiban. She ambles up the ladder, her eyes set only on the laminated contract hanging above her. Her pace is steady, her gaze focused.

Allison stands on the apron, looking down at Flesher and up at Ann. She watches each alternately, with Flesher holding his head, obviously dazed, and Ann about to win the match. Finally, Allison makes a decision. As Ann is about to reach the top step, Allison pulls back hard on the top rope. She leaps onto it and springs off as Ann reaches out for the contract. She extends her arm, grabbing for it!

As her fingers are only a hair’s breadth from the piece of paper, Allison unleashes a springboard dropkick that sends the ladder toppling to the side with Ann Onita falling with it! The ladder lands on the top rope as Allison falls onto the mat, and Ann is sent spilling onto the canvas! She lands with a splat as Allison Onita rises off the mat, and the crowd boos her with the bitterness she deserves.

“AGAIN! AGAIN,” shouts Cyclone Comet, “Allison Onita has cost Ann the win! The second time this match! Her motives cannot be questioned now! She wants Tom Flesher to win this match, that much is clear!”

Allison grabs the ladder and sets it up in the center, the contract still swinging with the aftereffects of Ann being knocked unceremoniously from the top of the ladder. The fans begin chanting…

“YOU SUCK COCK! YOU SUCK COCK!”

Allison scowls as she makes sure the ladder is in the center. She drops to one knee and shakes Flesher hard, trying to get him to his feet. Even so, Ann Onita starts to pull herself to her feet, her eyes blazing. Her body shakes with adrenaline as she looks at Allison, who manages to rouse the well-rested Flesher quickly. Tom gets up, still hazy but almost fully recovered, and Allison bolts out of the ring as Ann moves toward Flesher. Tom throws a palm strike, which Ann deflects and answers with a stiff right hand! Flesher steps back, but grits his teeth and no-sells the blow. He throws another shotei, this time grazing Ann and sending her back a step. Tom follows up by stepping into a discus turn and throwing a spinning back fist at Ann! She ducks it, though, and quickly pops up to nail Flesher with a superkick! He falls to one knee and shakes his head, trying to dust the cobwebs off. Ann, meanwhile, gets up and grabs the ladder. Desperate to get the match over with, she tries to climb, but Flesher stands up with an adrenaline rush of his own. Not ready to give the match up despite his cloudy eyes, he reaches up and hooks Ann behind each elbow. He pulls her down and onto the mat, driving his head into the back of her neck to stun her before she can counter out of the double chicken wing. Then, he slowly turns around.

“Oh dear god,” murmurs Cyclone Comet. “Allison interferes with the orderly completion of the match twice, and now Tom Flesher’s setting out to murder Ann Onita. This can’t be happening.”

“There’s only one thing to do from here,” cackles Riley, “and there’s no way Ann Onita is getting up from this!”

Flesher twists Ann into a bent-over position behind him with her arms hooked over his. With the Unprettier cocked and ready to go off, Flesher puts one boot on the ladder. He climbs up two rungs and then leaps off, spinning to the side. Tom extends his body with the extra momentum and slams Ann face-first to the mat with a tornado Unprettier off the ladder! The fans begin booing loudly as Flesher lays on the mat, catching his breath. On the outside, Allison unabashedly cheers for him as he slowly gets up. He staggers for a few seconds, obviously running out of gas again after the extended flurries of the match.

“If Tom Flesher can get to the ladder, then this is it!” says Bobby Riley. “Ann’s never gotten up from an Unprettier, and Tom’s never failed to defeat Ann Onita in any of their incarnations. Now that he’s hit that, it’s a foregone conclusion.”

He leans against the ropes, taking a moment to grin at Allison. Then, he moves to the ladder and plants one foot firmly on the bottom step. He climbs up, moving his other foot to the second step. Slowly, deliberately, he climbs, until about a quarter of the way up, a hand shoots up and grabs his leg like a hand reaching out of a grave.

“Sweet Mary Magdalene!” shouts Cyclone Comet as Ann Onita sits up. She grabs the ankle with both hands, standing up. Clearly out on her feet, she begins throwing punches at Flesher’s kidneys. Tom, too tired to carry her weight, jumps down off the ladder and backs away. Ann staggers at him, throwing a wild punch that lands about a foot left of his face. “Ann Onita simply won’t give up! Where Tom Flesher needed an Asian massage to get him to continue fighting, Ann Onita is getting up from a tornado Unprettier to fight for her sister’s honor!”

Flesher steps back, dodging another wild punch. He grabs her arm and whips her to the nearest corner. Then, with Ann all but taking a standing eight-count against the turnbuckles, Flesher sprints at her and leaps off his feet. Defenseless, Ann simply watches him, her eyes cloudy, as he flies at her with an avalanche. She staggers forward, taking one step, then another, and then falling flat on her face. Unconvinced, Flesher grabs her in a fireman’s carry and goes to the ladder.

“Ahhhhh yes, HERE’S what I paid my money for,” grins Riley.

“You didn’t pay.”

“That’s not the point, Cyke.”

“You’re being paid to be here, Robert. The same as the rest of us.”

“Shush, it’s a figure of speech!”

“To imply otherwise is dishonest!”

“Listen, shut up for a second, would you?”

Flesher slogs up the steps, the completely limp Ann Onita over his shoulders. He continues until he reaches the very top of the ladder, where he sets Ann down. Looking out at the crowd from the top of the ladder, he appears to be shaking. The fear in his eyes is evident, but he knows what he has to do.

Tom hooks Ann in a front facelock, then ducks his head under her arm. He lifts her off the top of the ladder, holding her upside down for a few seconds in position for a vertical suplex. Then, he leaps off the ladder.

Tonight, no one’s countering it. The crowd goes silent as Tom Flesher and Ann Onita fall through the air, with Ann’s demise all but certain.

After what seems like hours of hang time, Ann lands head-first on the mat. Flesher hits hard, but bounces back safely. Ann, however, lays on the mat in a heap. Flesher looks at her fearfully, frozen with the possibility that she’ll get up and move again.

“BOILERMAKER!” shouts Bobby Riley. “TOM FLESHER HITS THE BOILERMAKER FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE DECEMBER, AND HE HITS IT OFF THE TOP OF THE LADDER!”

“I think Ann Onita’s dead,” whispers Comet, master of hyperbole.

Flesher looks at Allison, who nods. She hovers over her sister, ready to throw all appearances to the wind if her sister should sit up. Flesher simply starts climbing the ladder.

“Flesher seems very concerned about Ann Onita,” says Comet as Flesher pauses to look over his shoulder. “She isn’t moving, though, and even if she was, Allison is ready to keep her down. After all, she’s cost Ann the match twice. Why bother with an appearance of parity any longer?”

Flesher finally climbs to the top of the ladder. He reaches out, tearing the contract from its place. Quickly, he scurries down the ladder, finally touching both feet to the mat.

DING DING DING!!!!

“Kashmir” blasts over the speakers as Tom Flesher finally cracks a smile. He holds the contract in one hand, and quickly Allison scoots in to fill the other. He wraps his arm around her, making no secret of the fact that he’s cupping her breast in one hand.

“Your winner, and Allison Onita’s sole managerial prospect… ‘the Superior One,’ TOM FLESHER!!!!”

“And there you have it,” says Bobby Riley. “Allison Onita, the only person who had any interest in the outcome of this match, decided to step in and make sure it ended the way she wanted. I can’t imagine anyone having a problem with that.”

Flesher holds the ropes for Allison, and she exits the ring. He follows behind her, clearly exhausted, but they make a stop at the timekeeper’s table. There, Flesher grabs Ann’s fedora and playfully puts it on Allison’s head.

“She robbed her own sister of a win, and participated in her destruction, all for a man… and now she’s stealing her possessions,” says Comet bitterly. “Allison Onita is nothing more than a whore.”

They continue through the artificial wasteland. Finally, Flesher and Allison pause at the top of the ramp. He still holds her contract. As they stand, Allison kicks a leg up and kisses Tom lewdly on the lips. He kisses back, drawing the fans into a chorus of boos. They break the kiss, and as Tom dodges a beer cup, they head to the back.

Ann Onita lays in the ring. “Kashmir” continues blaring, and as the medical crew makes its way to the ring, the picture fades.

the.weej · April 26, 2004

***TALE OF THE TAPE***

THE CHALLENGER:

“The Notorious One” John Duran

Height: 6’8”

Weight: 268 pounds

Hometown: Champaign, Illinois

Career Accomplishments:

- Former SJL Triple Crown title holder (Television, European, World)

- Former SWF Tag Team Champion

- Former SWF Hardcore Gamers’ Champion

- Leader of the Unnamed

Finishing Move: Blunt Force Trauma, Break Point

THE CHAMPION:

Charlie “Grappler” Matthews

Height: 6’7”

Weight: 301 pounds

Hometown: Kansas City, Missouri

Career Accomplishments:

- Former SJL Triple Crown title holder (Television, European, World)

- Former SWF Tag Team Champion

- Former SWF United States Champion

- Former SWF Intercontinental Television Champion

- SWF Clusterfuck 2004 Winner

- Current and reigning SWF World Heavyweight Champion (1 successful defense)

Finishing Move: The Wake-Up Call, Crossface Chickenwing

the.weej · April 26, 2004

I know the pieces fit

‘Cause I watched them tumble down

No fault, none to blame

It doesn’t mean I don’t desire

To point the finger, blame the other,

Watch the temple topple over

To bring the pieces back together

Rediscover communication…

The lyrics of Tool’s “Schism” float like unseen ghosts throughout the University Arena, as the crowd remains abuzz, having seen amazing action all night, including the Last Man Standing match, the ladder match, and so much more. Only one match remains.

“Looking over the carnage of tonight,” Cyclone Comet begins again, as the show inches towards its third hour, “I can say with confidence that this song sums up my feelings about the atrocities that have taken place tonight. I can liken it to looking over a battlefield, and to see all the defeated bodies strewn about, and also those who stand tall in victory.”

“There’s one match remaining,” Bobby Riley reminds his commentating partner, “and this could be the biggest one of all.”

“It certainly has the potential to be that way. John Duran and Charlie Matthews, to borrow an old cliché, go back a long ways. We’ve already seen what these two have gone through in the days leading up to this event. Now, the time has come, and we’re about to see the defining match in this year-long quarrel between the two.”

“The one thing about this match,” Riley notes, “is that no one is allowed at ringside! Not only are the Unnamed--Megan Skye and James Matheson included--banned, but also anyone who looks to assist the Grappler! There will only be a referee, Funyon and…us!”

“The playing field is truly even,” Comet admits, “and there will be no stipulation tacked onto this match. The first man to score a pinfall or make his opponent submit will be the winner, but disqualifications and countouts are also intact!”

“This moment is the big one for both men,” Riley points out, “as Duran has the chance to pick up his first one-on-one pinfall victory against Charlie Matthews…and Matthews has the chance to defeat Duran and prove to the leader of the Unnamed that he is the superior wrestler in their battles!”

“That being said, of course--“

Riley cuts off Comet, “that being said, this is Duran’s match all the way. He’s too determined, too focused to stop now. Charlie’s time is up.”

“Well, the time has finally come to find out! Let’s go to Funyon in the ring!”

The camera shots fade into one another, going from the announce table to the ring, as Funyon stands in the center, ready to bring out the two combatants.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this next match is TONIGHT’S MAINNNNNNN EVENT!” The crowd explodes at this announcement, and fans rush back to their seats from the long concession stand lines at this proclamation. “The match is scheduled for one fall with NO TIME LIMIT!”

With that, the lights are killed in the arena, washing the crowd over in darkness. The live audience knows that the challenger is the first out, but they save their boos until they hear the beginning three words, lit up in bright white lettering on the SmarkTron for all to see.

“NO~

NO~

NOTORIOUS~”

The opening beat hits, and the guitar riff begins immediately as the lights flash back to life…and Spineshank is playing “Synthetic” on a platform to the far left of the entrance! The fans notice this, but still continue to boo the inevitable appearance of John Duran.

“Spineshank is in the house,” Riley boasts the superstar pickup, “and what a welcome for the soon-to-be SWF World Heavyweight Champion!”

When the guitar riff shifts into the vocals…

“I can never feel the way you do…”

…John Duran emerges from the back!

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

“But it still becomes me now

I can’t take the way you do

But it’s still inside me

Synthetic! Solution

Synthetic! I’ll become

Synthetic, if it makes this go away…”

Duran stands at the peak of the trench, looking down at the ground, his black hair hovering over his face as he gradually brings his arms up, middle fingers extended towards the sky at the fans. The New Mexico fans have been in the heat all day, however, and have no problem reciprocating those sentiments towards the challenger.

“Still I waste another day of my life

And it sickens me to feel this way

Now I can’t make up my mind, is this right

How I let you get inside of me?”

John begins his walk down the ramp, taking his team as Spineshank thunders through their song live.

“Robert, this man has had multiple chances to defeat Charlie Matthews. I must say, this is the last opportunity the fans will give him before they are finally convinced that the Grappler is the better wrestler!”

“With all of his demons behind him and his confidence higher than ever, there’s no chance that John Duran is losing this match. It was destined to be this way, and there’s no stepping in the way of destiny.”

Duran steps up onto the apron and enters the ring, immediately going into the ropes and bouncing off them, running the ropes for a moment to get pumped up--although it’s hard to get any more excited for this match than the Notorious One already is.

And with that, the lights go out AGAIN!

Suddenly…

BOOM

The guitars rip into the first riff of “Some Kind of Monster,” and a spotlight doesn’t shine on the entranceway, but on a platform to the far right of the entrance…where Metallica is playing on a platform!

“Metallica here at SWF Battleground?” Riley asks, befuddled. “Our new commissioner has certainly spared no expense here to bring in the true superstars!”

“These are the eyes that can’t see me

These are the hands that drop your trust

These are the boots that kick you around

This is the tongue that speaks on the inside…”

As the lyrics from James Hetfield begin…Charlie Matthews steps out into his own spotlight at the top of the trench, the crowd ROARING with approval! The spotlight makes the SWF World Heavyweight belt glisten with golden sparkles, Charlie standing out because of the sparkling belt wrapped tightly around his slightly fat, mostly muscular build.

“I hope Charlie Matthews enjoyed that run with the SWF World Title,” Riley warns, “because this is the night that it will switch hands and rejoin the Unnamed, where it rightfully belongs!”

“John Duran had a tall mountain to climb, and now he has a tall summit to surpass in Charlie Matthews. This will not be an easy task for Duran,” Comet predicts.

“They both know each other well, but Duran will be the one to exploit it to his advantage and run away with the victory and the title! I guarantee it!”

“We the people

Are we the people?

We the people

Are we the people?”

The camera switches views from Grappler to Duran, whose face is illuminated by the many camera flashes trying to catch a photo of this amazing entrance from Charlie Matthews, accompanied by one of the best metal bands of all time.

“The adrenaline running through these two men,” Comet shakes his head in amazement, “it must be incredible. They both want to rip each other’s heads off, but they also must realize that this will go down in the annals of SWF history, no matter who comes out on top!”

Charlie steps up onto the apron, staring at Duran and then stepping through the ropes, making sure to not let his eyes off the Notorious One at any time, aiming to avoid any sneak attacks.

“We’ve had all sorts of matches as main events in past events,” Riley says, looking back on the history of the SWF, “but this is a match that does not need to be held inside of a cage, it does not need to involve tables, ladders, or chairs.”

“By the end of this match, it may stand alone as an epic, Robert.”

Duran has already taken the far corner, away from the entranceway, so Grappler slowly inches over to the other corner. Metallica wraps up “Some Kind Of Monster,” the crowd cheering for both the champ and the band as Funyon prepares to continue.

“And now, to introduce the competitors in tonight’s match-up. In the corner to my left,” Funyon motions over to Duran, netting a ENORMOUS amount of boos, “weighing in at two hundred and sixty-eight pounds, from Champaign, Illinois, he is THE NOTORIOUS JOHN DURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAN!”

At the end of Funyon’s announcement, Duran once again raises the middle fingers into the air, slicing his digit through all of the boos and then bringing both middle fingers down, directing them towards the champion as the boos change to “OOH”s, the crowd angered that Duran would show disrespect towards the champion in such a fashion.

“And now, in the corner to my right,” Funyon continues, having to pause for a moment for the explosion of cheers, weighing in at three hundred and one pounds, hailing from Kansas City, Missouri…he is the Smartmarks Wrestling Federation Heavyweight Champion of the WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORLD…CHARLIE! GRAPPLER! MATTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTHEWS!”

Charlie raises his arms high in the air, but has no middle fingers to show, even when he lowers them back down to his side--he does not stoop to the level of Duran. All Charlie does is look at the challenger.

Funyon leaves the ring, the introductions complete. Charlie unlatches the belt from his waist, handing it to Mark Hebner as Hebner takes the belt, holding it in the air and then turning it towards Duran, allowing the challenger to see what is at stake before walking over to a ringside attendant, who takes the belt. With the belt out of the ring, Hebner backs towards the center of the ring, calling for the bell as he does so!

DING DING DING!

Duran and Matthews emerge from their respective corners, taking their time to reach the center of the ring as the fans buzz with excitement. A small “GRAP - PULL - ER!” chant begins, scattered amongst the hardcore fans of the old school wrestler. Finally, the two meet in the center of the ring and immediately bump chests--the taller Duran is still eye-to-eye with the champ, as they intensely stare at each other, mouthing inaudible words to each other. John finally pushes Charlie off him, and Matthews comes right back, bringing the Notorious One into a collar-and-elbow tie up!

“Some heated words and this match is already getting intense,” says Comet.

Both men jockey for position, trying to exert force onto the other, seesawing for a moment until Duran swings around and gets Charlie in a side headlock! The crowd boos as Duran looks around at the crowd, Matthews slowly backing his feet towards the near ropes. Referee Hebner leans in to watch for a submission and to make sure that Duran isn’t choking the champion, as the Notorious One puts on the brakes, stopping Matthews as he wrenches the side headlock in tight. However, Charlie weasels an arm in between the men and slams an elbow into the abdomen of the challenger, allowing for movement to continue as Charlie backs into the ropes, using the spring momentum to send Duran off of him and into the ropes. On the rebound, both men charge at each other, meeting in the center of the ring…as Duran knocks Matthews onto his back!

“What an intense collision!” Riley exclaims.

“It was like two bulls charging at each other, it could’ve gone either way, but Duran had just a LITTLE bit more momentum!”

John looks over to a set of ropes and then goes for it, dropping into them as Grappler turns his body over, trying to trip Duran. The Illinois native leaps over the bulky frame of Charlie, however, rebounding off the opposite ropes as Charlie gets up to his feet, bending over and trying to catch Duran in a back body drop…but Duran pulls out a leapfrog(!), going into the ropes for a third time and coming right back at the champion, bringing up his forearm for a running forearm smash...

…but Charlie lifts him up into the BEARHUG!

“YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

“This match could be over before it can even get started,” Comet realizes.

“No, Duran’s fighting it!”

Indeed, John fires off a few right hands into the skull of Grappler as he is lifted into the bearhug, wild-eyed and not even close to submission. After a fourth right hand to the head, Charlie finally releases the bearhug, stunned from the hard punches as John comes forward with a knee, driving it hard into the stomach of the champion!

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

“Robert, these fans are going to have plenty of mood swings tonight, because this should be the definition of a back-and-forth contest!”

“They better get used to booing, because if they hate Duran that much, they’re going to hate it even more when he scores a pinfall over their hero!”

With Charlie doubled over from the knee attack to the solar plexus, John sticks with the knees, bringing one up into Charlie’s bowed face, some members of the crowd cringing at the sight of Duran bringing the knees into the kisser of Matthews. After delivering a couple more knees, John finally brings Charlie back to a vertical base, backing him into the ropes and whipping him across the ring. Duran goes to the center of the ring, crouching down as if to go for a spinebuster, but Matthews wildly swings for a lariat! Duran is just barely able to duck it as Charlie turns around to follow the attempted attack, but John thinks quickly and grabs the meaty legs of Charlie, taking him down swiftly!

“A very sound strategy from Duran here,” says Riley, “both men have been moving fast, and when you slow things down, the advantage can go to Duran much easier than if the action is moving quickly. The power of Matthews combined with any kind of speed is just asking for trouble, as that rowdy lariat showed.”

“Charlie is still not a lightweight; Duran’s going to need to follow up this strategy with some big power moves to keep the big man off his feet!”

Buying himself some time with the hastily-done double-leg takedown, Duran goes the simple route, opening up Charlie’s legs and planting a boot in the midsection--at least that’s the way Mark Hebner sees it, though a good portion of the crowd can be led to believe that the boot hit a little bit below the border of New Mexico. Nonetheless, it is effective, and Duran backs away from the champion, regaining his breath as Charlie slowly reaches his feet. John watches carefully, picking his spot and then taking it, diving forward and taking out the back of Matthews’ left knee with a chopblock!

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

“There you go, John!” Riley encourages the challenger.

“If Duran can settle into this groove of working on Matthews’ leg, Charlie might be in trouble! There are no particular moves in Citizen Duran’s arsenal that could finish off Charlie’s legs, but those chopblocks are looked down upon in the NFL for a reason!”

“From there, it’s all about the Blunt Force Trauma, baby!” finishes Riley, doing his best Dick Vitale impression, which isn’t good.

Charlie holds his knee in pain, the champion down on his back as Duran starts to get cocky, urging Matthews to get back to his feet again as the crowd’s boos only get louder. The Grappler stands again, but he can’t turn around quickly enough and the Notorious One charges again, hitting the same knee as the large Grappler falls hard. This time, Duran goes for a cover, with Mark Hebner sliding down to count

ONE!

Before Charlie shoots a shoulder up, getting cheers from the crowd as its clear that despite the pain in his knee, Charlie is still in it to win. Duran is right back to his feet, however, and quickly brings an elbow down across that left knee of Matthews, before quickly climbing back to his feet!

“Duran’s smart enough to work on one of the legs,” Comet points out, but Riley finishes.

“That’s right, because if he were to take out both of Grappler’s legs, Charlie would simply be deadweight! And since Duran is focused on the power aspects of wrestling and not a ground based attack, he would simply be beating the hell out of Charlie on the ground for minutes on end! Not that he wouldn’t mind that, of course.”

Duran shakes his arm, trying to get the pain of elbow-hitting-knee out, as a loud chant picks up steam.

“DUR - AN SUCKS!

DUR - AN SUCKS!

DUR - AN SUCKS!”

Duran flashes a middle finger to the crowd behind his back, trying to get the crowd riled up and succeeding very well in doing so as the New Mexico fans are quickly growing tired of the challenger. Charlie remains on the ground, holding his knee in pain but slowly getting back to his feet, using the ropes for assistance. Duran once again crouches down, ready to pounce on the champion with another chopblock.

“That’s about enough, Duran!” Comet tries to plead with Duran from the commentating booth. “There’s only so much one man’s knee can take!”

“If Charlie Matthews is the champion, now is the time to show that championship resolve that EVERY champion--like JOHN DURAN--should have!”

The crowd is booing every moment now, watching Grappler standing, holding on the ropes for balance at first and then letting go, as Duran charges for a third chopblock…

…right as the Grappler turns around!

DOUBLE-LEG TAKEDOWN!

“I think Citizen Grappler was playing possum,” Comet says with glee. “How delightful!”

“Fight it, Duran!”

The crowd bursts into cheers as Matthews drags Duran towards the center of the ring and then turns Duran’s body over, wincing in pain as he puts weight on the knee but still leaning back to lock in the Boston Crab!

“Now THAT is a move that will work on the legs,” Comet points out the submission hold.

Charlie continues to fight through the pain in his knee as Duran scrambles as soon as the move is put in, and Mark Hebner leans in to ask the challenger if he submits, but John has no answer, simply moving his hands frantically and being able to shift his body JUST enough! Latching on to the ropes as if it were a long-lost family member, Hebner leans in and tells Charlie to break the hold! The fans boo the break, but cheer again when Charlie takes his time breaking the hold!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

FOUR!

Charlie finally breaks it, the crowd getting behind the champion, even though he bent the rules slightly.

“Where are your cries of injustice for this one, Comet?”

“It’s nothing that Duran wouldn’t do in the same situation!” Comet responds in defense of his policy on injustice.

Even after the break, Charlie keeps going after the challenger, grabbing Duran by the ankles and swiftly hoisting the Unnamed leader into the air! John releases his grip on the ropes as Matthews manhandles Duran, slamming his knee into the center of the ring as Duran is treated like a mother beating a dusty rug! The crowd applauds Charlie’s roughness with his long-time enemy, as Matthews aims his elbow carefully, and then drops it on the back of the right knee of Duran, mirroring John’s actions towards Grappler as Charlie gingerly gets back to his feet. The adrenaline was running, but Charlie can’t ignore the pain in his leg forever, even with Duran beginning to focus on the pain in his knee after having three hundred pounds dropped on it.

“Fighting fire with fire is an excellent counter to this strategy from Duran,” Comet praises the champion’s thinking, “gives yourself some time to rest your limbs by working over the opponent’s limbs!”

“That’s not genius! That’s barbaric! They hate chopblocks in the NFL, but they embrace the timeout! Why don’t we have one of those right now?”

Despite Riley’s zany ramblings, there’s no timeout in the ring as Charlie flips Duran’s body over again, the Notorious One on his back and Mark Hebner hitting the mat to count

ONE!

TWO

As Duran kicks out, immediately reaching out to hold his right knee as the impact of his kickout aggravates the already sore knee. Charlie gets to his feet slowly, grimacing as he brings Duran up by his jet black hair, keeping John’s back to him before bending down and grasping on to John’s midsection, lifting the right knee of Duran’s with the other hand as Charlie hoists the Notorious One in the air…and comes right back down with a big atomic drop onto John’s right knee!

“Poor John Duran,” Riley sobs in an exaggerated manner, “what did he do to deserve this?”

“Brutally attack Charlie Matthews on several occasions, and basically become a thorn in Charlie’s side that the Grappler is frantically trying to strike down now?”

“Oh…right.”

After the atomic drop, Duran stumbles into the nearest ropes, his right knee no doubt screaming in pain. The Unnamed leader turns around…meeting Grappler once again as Charlie bends down, wrapping his arms around John’s waist, lifting, and DROPPING again with an *inverted* atomic drop!

“RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

Duran bounces up to a vertical base after the inverted atomic drop, his mouth in an “O” of pain as Charlie moves out of John’s way, letting Duran hobble his way through…but not before putting a foot out and tripping the Notorious One!

“Oh, now he’s just TOYING with him!” Riley cries foul again, “why can’t he take this opponent seriously?”

“Because he knows he has an advantage over Duran right now! He’ll get serious when it comes time to finish off the Notorious One!”

“Finish off?” Riley responds as if he was just told that Santa Claus doesn’t exist. “Who said Duran was losing?”

Duran reaches down again to console his injured knee, but Charlie Matthews grabs the legs of Duran once again, turning his body over as the crowd pops like bubble wrap again, the Boston Crab locked in again with Duran in the center of the ring! John immediately begins to scream in pain, but doesn’t have the strength--at the moment--to reach the ropes, making futile reaches with his hands towards the ropes which are unreachable at the moment. Mark Hebner leans in and asks if John gives up, to which the Notorious One responds with an emphatic “NO!”

“That’s right, Duran, don’t you quit,” Riley urges the challenger on, as always, “Daddy’s got a lot riding on you beating Grappler tonight.”

“You really shouldn’t bet on wrestling matches, Robert.”

“You really shouldn’t be wearing that silly costume, Comet.”

Duran begins to inch closer to the ropes, digging away at his goal as his legs continue to stretch under the overwhelming pressure applied to them by Charlie. Mark Hebner asks John again if he submits, the Notorious One responding in the negative, noticeably in pain now as his words encourage him to push his body further, able to drag the Grappler with him as Charlie is putting unnecessary pressure on his own knee as well by having Duran in the Boston Crab.

“Look at the pain in Charlie’s face, Comet! I wouldn’t be surprised if he submitted before Duran!”

“His knee may be weak, Robert, but Charlie’s spirit is strong, and his desire to make Duran submit right here, right now is even stronger!”

The Notorious One refuses to give up, however, moving his body again, now only three or four feet away from the ropes!

“Grab the ropes, Duran! Grab ‘em!”

“It’s the only way that Citizen Duran will have a way out of this, Robert, because Charlie is not releasing that Boston Crab anytime soon!”

Duran screams in pain, before screaming out a “NO!” when Mark Hebner asks him once again. With that, a chant begins among the New Mexico fans.

“YOU GOTTA TAP!”

“Don’t listen to them, Duran! Grab those ropes!”

Duran’s hand raises in the air, and the crowd is in hysterics as they feel that a submission is inevitable…

“YOU GOTTA TAP!”

And as Duran hand falls…it grabs onto the bottom rope!

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

The boos are thunderous for Duran as the referee once again orders Charlie to break the hold, which Matthews does promptly this time as he carefully walks away from the Unnamed leader, both men battered from the Boston Crab.

“YES!” Riley hisses, his money safe for now. “I told you Duran had it in him! This match is going to continue!”

“I think everyone believed that he was going to tap, but with one final act, he reached out for those ropes and saved himself the embarrassment of tapping to Charlie Matthews again!”

Charlie takes a breather, looking at Duran for a moment before finally going back on the attack, hobbling less now as the champion tries to bring the challenger back to his feet. However, Duran can only reach his knees, and when Matthews tries to move him any further, the Notorious One lashes out with a right hand to the solar plexus! Charlie lurches after the punch to the midsection, but continues as Duran brings another right hand into his stomach! Matthews is angered by Duran’s fighting back, as he finally brings Duran to his feet, backing him into the ropes and whipping him towards the other side of the ring…but holding on to John’s arm!

“Short-arm clothesline, coming up!” Comet predicts excitedly.

Charlie whips the Notorious One back around for a short-arm clothesline…that Duran ducks! John frees his arm from Grappler’s grasp, spinning the champion around and shuffling his feet forward; planting his left knee into the abdomen of the Grappler as Matthews feels that blow to the stomach! The wind is knocked out of Charlie as he hits two knees.

“Duran has taken control of this match again,” Riley announces, “and it’s about time! It’s only a matter of when John Duran will put away Charlie Matthews once and for good and collect his SWF World Heavyweight Title!”

John backs away from Grappler, letting him regain his wind as he crouches down, the fans immediately booing the imminent chopblock. However, as Matthews reaches his feet again and turns around to face Duran…John hasn’t already taken out his legs! The Notorious One instead charges as soon as Matthews turns around, the two colliding and Duran’s momentum driving his shoulder into the abdomen of Matthews and taking both men over to the near corner, as the force of the tackle into the turnbuckle is enormous!

“My God,” Comet exclaims, “I think I saw the ring move!”

The exaggeration is close enough as Duran removes his shoulder from the abs of Matthews, backing away slightly. John then turns to the body shots, remaining crouched and slamming right and left hands into the sides and abdomen of the champion, the fans boos mostly directed at the referee as he orders for a break in the corner.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

FOUR!

One last punch to the kidney by Duran sends him backing off, as Mark Hebner gets between the two men, admonishing Duran for his attack in the corner and trying to give Charlie some time to recover. John holds his hands up as if to suggest that he’s done with his dirty ways in the corner. Mark Hebner finally allows the match to continue, and as soon as the man in the stripes moves out of the way, Duran comes forward with a hard knee right into the stomach of Grappler, garnering more boos towards Duran and the referee. Hebner once again yells at Duran, but Charlie doesn’t remain in the corner for long as the Notorious One brings him out from the turnbuckles.

“See, Duran is an upstanding citizen, Comet! You were wrong about him all along, he know that he had to follow the rules and he did so!”

“The whole justice thing loses its effect when Duran was already told two times, Robert.”

“Still, that’s more mercy from Duran than you’re going to see for the rest of this match, so you should be grateful for that much!”

Duran winces in pain, his knee still hurting him as he brings Charlie to the center of the ring and then comes to a stop, catching the Grappler in a front bodylock and then lifting the champion up, quickly turning to his left to drop Matthews down with a big belly-to-belly suplex! The Unnamed leader remains on top of Matthews as Mark Hebner slides down, watching the shoulders of Charlie and counting

ONE!

TWO!

Before Charlie kicks out once again, the fans voicing their approval for the champion as he remains the champion in this match, not a former champion.

“Charlie kicks out at the count of two once again,” Comet notes, “but two hundred and sixty-eight pounds landing on the abdomen of the champion cannot feel good!”

“That’s why Duran is going to stick with it! He’s got a new target now, and it’s the stomach and abdomen region of Charlie. Duran managed to hobble the champion, now he’s going to knock the wind out of him!”

“Don’t forget that Duran’s knees aren’t doing very well either, especially that right one!”

Duran also has to catch his breath after that belly-to-belly, the wind knocked out of both the giver and the receiver. The Notorious One gets to his feet, however, which is more than can be said for the champion, holding his stomach in pain. Charlie remains with his back to the mat as John quickly comes down with an elbow; driving it into Grappler’s breadbasket and making the champion sit up from the pain in his gut. The fans are displeased with the way this match is going, showing their displeasure with more jeers towards the challenger.

“Robert, I think the fans weren’t quite expecting this from Duran! He’s a big man, but considering his past encounters with the Grappler, it’s hard to say if people thought it was going to be this even!”

“Well, then they need to open their eyes! John Duran is the future, and Charlie Matthews has always been living in the past! Tonight is the night that we go back to the future and end this old school reign!”

Duran gets back to his feet, trying to not put so much weight on his right knee as he bends down and brings Charlie up just enough so that the Notorious One can lock the champion in a front facelock. John takes the near arm of the Grappler and throws it behind his head, before finally planting his feet and grabbing Matthews’ tights, lifting the Missourian into the air and holding him upside-down, Duran’s knees showing signs of wobbling before John falls forward, sending Charlie face-first--but more importantly, onto his torso with a front suplex!

“Another masterful maneuver from Duran,” Riley praises the challenger.

“Duran is certainly pulling out every move in his arsenal that he can to focus on that abdomen of the Grappler! But he’s going to have to finish the job for it to mean anything!”

The impact of the front suplex leaves Matthews on his face, his arms wrapped around his gut as he attempts to protect it from any further damage that the Notorious One can cause! Duran gets to his feet, however, and forces the champion to join him on his feet! Charlie never reaches a vertical base, however, as Duran puts him in the gutwrench position!

“Very obvious decision here from the challenger,” says Comet. “The gutwrench implies pain to Charlie’s gut, and it’s going to hurt a lot more once he completes the move!”

Duran wraps his arms around Charlie’s bulky waist to lift up him for a gutwrench suplex, but Matthews shifts his weight down and then fires an elbow into the back of Duran! This stuns Duran and gives Charlie enough time to wiggle out of the gutwrench hold, pulling back and then jamming right back into the abdomen of Duran with a shoulderblock, using his momentum to tackle Duran and send him into a turnbuckle! Duran’s torso is crunched under the force of the tackle as Mark Hebner is forced to once again step in and try to restore order, the crowd exploding with cheers as Duran is pinned into the corner, having been given a taste of his own medicine.

“And there’s the spear tackle from Charlie Matthews!” Comet proclaims.

“That is a move that was blatantly stolen from John Duran! He just did it earlier in the match! Why is Charlie Matthews using moves *mastered* by John Duran when he’s supposed to be the master of old school or whatever fake hype he’s receiving every week?”

Mark Hebner tries to sandwich himself in between the two men, but an enraged Matthews backs up and goes on the attack, slamming punches into the gut of Duran as payback for what the Notorious One did to him, the crowd roaring as the fists fly into John’s torso, Hebner finally managing to force a break and get Charlie off Duran.

“GRAP - PULL - ER!”

The chant is deafening in support for the champion as he mouths some words to the ref, still looking furious in his comeback during this match.

“Citizen Grappler has grown tired of John,” says Comet, “he’s mad as hell, and he’s not going to take it anymore!”

The hard blows from Matthews have already taken a toll on the solar plexus of Duran, as Hebner finally moves out of the way. John staggers over to Charlie, all the pain rushing back to the Notorious One now that the momentum in his favor is gone. With that, Matthews lifts up his boot and drives it into the gut of Duran, doubling the Unnamed leader over easily as Charlie puts HIM in the gutwrench position! The fans are cheering again as Matthews wraps his arms around Duran’s waist and heaves the challenger up into the air, falling back in one fluid motion as the gutwrench suplex hits, both men falling to the mat and Duran immediately grasping at his stomach.

“Now that’s how you do a gutwrench suplex, Robert. Charlie lands that move with gusto and Duran’s breadbasket is already in a bad way.”

“As long as Duran can avoid that bearhug--ugh,” Riley shudders, “I can’t even begin to think what would happen if that big oaf in the ring put the bearhug on John!”

“It wouldn’t be pretty, that much is certain.”

After the gutwrench, Charlie moves his body on top of Duran’s hooking the leg in the lateral press as Mark Hebner drops to the mat, slapping his hand on the mat for

ONE!

TWO!!

And then Duran gets a shoulder up, Charlie sitting up on his knees and regaining his breath, trying to get over the pain in his abdomen and his leg. Duran rolls away from Charlie in the meantime, wanting to metaphorically lick his wounds as well. Charlie reaches his feet first, while John struggles to get to his vertical base, using the ropes for some kind of leverage. By the time the Notorious One gets up, the champion is waiting for him, and Duran turns around…right into the BEARHUG!

“RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

The fans spontaneously combust for a signature move of the Grappler, as Duran once again attempts to fight it, firing away with right hands as the bearhug cannot be cinched in, the crowd groaning in disappointment as Duran lands on his feet after being lifted up in the bearhug for a moment. Duran’s fighting of the bearhug is ill-advised, however, as it only serves to infuriate Charlie even further as he quickly hoists Duran up again, but turns to his left this time and drives Charlie down with a belly-to-belly suplex, looking just as devastating as the belly-to-belly delivered by John Duran and doing just as much damage, if not more!

“The champion is playing a game of ‘Anything you can do, I can do better’ tonight, Robert!”

“Looks more to me like just being a copycat. Just because the man has forty pounds on Duran, doesn’t give him the right to STEAL from Duran’s repertoire!”

“When it comes down to that, Robert, you have to listen to these fans, and these fans love it when Grappler does the moves that Duran may be able to do!”

“Whatever, let’s just move on.”

And move on we do, as Duran tries to get some adrenaline flowing, fighting his way to his feet, but the adrenaline is already working overtime for the champion, the fans support giving him new life! Both men reach their feet, but Charlie bends down and catches John by surprise, putting him in a fireman’s carry! With Duran prone and on Matthews’ broad shoulders, John’s legs do not leave Charlie’s shoulders, but his upper body does as Charlie hits the ground and Duran lands facefirst onto the canvas, the power of the fireman’s carry flapjack echoing throughout the arena and then drowned out by the howls of the fans!

“Now, is that move a regular move in Duran’s repertoire?”

“It is!” Riley defends his statements from earlier. “It’s an inverted reverse Blunt Force Trauma!”

Comet simply sighs as Duran is turned over onto his back by the champion, the challenger being pinned to the ground once again in a lateral press, Mark Hebner’s counting being guided along by the fans for

ONE!

TWO!!!!!!!!

But Duran gets a shoulder up after the count of two! Grappler looks at Hebner with frustration in his eyes, but puts it aside as he gets to his feet, grabbing Duran and bringing him up as well. In a flash, Charlie has taken the challenger off his guard and put him in the bearhug!

“Oh no, not this again,” Riley laments, but Comet is ecstatic.

“This is the one,” Comet predicts again, apparently wearing his Nostradamus hat to the announcing position tonight. “This is the bearhug that will win this match!”

“Don’t count on it, Comet.”

Duran is lifted up into the bearhug by Charlie, and the fans pop once again for the appearance of the move…but this time Duran whips out one of his Notorious Tactics™ and rakes the eyes of the Grappler!

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

“DUR - AN SUCKS!”

The chant is instant (just add eye rake), and the cheers are loud as Grappler obviously cannot hold onto the bearhug when his eyes are almost pulled from their sockets with a vicious eye rake. Referee Mark Hebner warns the Notorious One to watch the raking of the eyes, but Duran wastes no time and simply grabs the closest arm of the Grappler, whipping him into the ropes!

…But Grappler holds on and reverses the momentum…and holds on to Duran’s arm, bringing him back around as the merry-go-round of pain finally ends with a big short-arm clothesline, catching Duran right under the neck as Duran whacks the canvas with a thud from the force of the move!

“I thought Citizen Duran had the advantage there for a moment, but Grappler is throwing his power around now! The Notorious One might be in a world of trouble before he knows it!”

Instead of going for the pin again, Charlie remains on the offensive, bringing the Unnamed leader back to his feet! With the challenger dead on his feet, Matthews sneaks around behind Duran, reaching behind him and grasping on to the Notorious One’s neck! Before Duran has time to react, Charlie comes down, sitting out as Duran’s neck is wrenched against the shoulder of Matthews!

“OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

“A neckbreaker from Matthews!” Comet calls, “And that is a neckbreaker on the already weak neck of Duran, which has been acknowledged as never having fully recovered yet from the brutal match at From The Fire with Terrence Bailey!”

“Duran will see his way through it, even if he has to use the Notorious Tactics™ again!” says Riley, but he doesn’t sound very sure of his own words.

After the neckbreaker, John rolls to the outside, avoiding any potential pin opportunity that Matthews would be looking for as Mark Hebner calls to the outside for Duran to get back in the ring, Duran doubled over on the outside and holding his neck, no doubt hurting all over now. The champion follows Duran to the outside, stalking behind the Notorious One.

ONE!

Hebner starts his count, as Charlie gets closer to Duran, but Duran suddenly spots Matthews, avoiding him and sending the Grappler face first into the ringpost with a shove!

“OHHHHHHHHH!”

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

Charlie’s face ricochets off the post and Matthews collapses onto the ground, turning around onto his face as Mark Hebner leaves the ring to have a word of Duran, telling him to keep the match fair or he’ll be disqualified! Meanwhile, Charlie lifts his face off the ground, trying to get back to his feet as some of the fans immediately see the horrid truth: Grappler is bleeding from the forehead.

“Whoo!” Riley screams, “Now this is the turning point! Charlie is going to be bleeding like a stuck pig because of Duran, and the loss of all that blood will make him even more stupid than he already his, giving the Notorious One the opportunity he needs to win this match!”

For the moment, however, Duran goes back into the ring, having no more business on the outside as Hebner follows him in and then turns his attention to Matthews, beginning the ten count on him again.

ONE!

Charlie reaches his feet, reaching a hand up to his face and seeing the color red on his hands. This makes him see red (pun intended), and he turns around, sliding into the ring and immediately getting to his feet. Duran charges at the champion, but Matthews also makes his move, and gets a boot up, slamming it right into the jaw of the Notorious One as he hits the mat like a sack of potatoes!

“Citizen Grappler is infuriated by the blood on his face! I think he knows that now is the time to use his potential to the fullest and put away Duran once and for good!”

“My question is how the fans can cheer for such brutality like what we just saw with that big boot! These fans are barbaric!”

Duran pops back up to his feet, trying to get revenge but his momentum sends him walking right into a fireman’s carry that fluidly turns into a Death Valley Driver, John spiked onto his head from the DVD as more pressure is put on the neck! There is still no cover from Matthews, as he gets up again and yells at Duran to join him at a vertical base. The Notorious One is a little bit slower to get to his feet again, but he does it anyway, looking back at the bloodied face of Matthews until Charlie puts a boot into Duran and then locks him in a standing headscissors! In a last-second desperation move, however, Duran drops to his knees…and the rest is elementary!

“OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

The low blow uppercut right between the legs is expected. Mark Hebner seems ready to call for a disqualification, but decides against it at the last second, telling Duran that if he continues to blatantly cheat like that, he’ll have no choice but to end the match.

“Good for Referee Hebner,” Comet commends the man in stripes, “letting this match continue despite the injustices! He knows what this match means to all the fans and especially to the two men that he is currently in the ring refereeing!”

“And he knows what will happen to him if Duran is disqualified,” Riley amends Comet’s statement, “the Unnamed will storm down to this ring and send Mark Hebner straight to hell!”

Charlie is doubled over after the low blow, his momentum stopped dead in its tracks by Duran. John gets to his feet, holding his neck as he pushes Charlie into the ropes for another Irish whip, sending the champion across the ropes as the crowd boos every movement of Duran, nearing the center of the ring and lowering his right hand from his tender neck as he meets Charlie, wrapping his arms around the former Unnamed member, bringing Matthews up and then down onto his back with a vicious spinebuster! After the spinebuster, Duran crawls back to his feet, the pain throbbing inside of him and also inside Charlie, writhing on the ground in pain. The challenger looks towards the turnbuckles, and the crowd pauses for a moment.

“You don’t think he’s…” Riley begins.

“…No way.”

The fans are puzzled as Duran goes to the ring apron and then slowly begins to climb the turnbuckles, all of the fans rising to their feet. They are stunned into silence by this latest action from the Notorious One--none of them were expecting this. But as Duran perches on the top rope like an overlooking bird, he finally gains his balance, fighting through the pain and holding steady on his feet. With that, he makes one final motion…never a religious man, he still finds time to make the motion signifying a prayer to:

The Father.

The Son.

And the Holy Spirit.

And then Duran flies.

“Duran’s in the air!” Comet screams in amazement, and Riley just emits a shriek of fear.

Hanging in mid-air, Duran extends his legs out, losing out to gravity in a hurry as he comes crashing down.

BOOM!

With a flying legdrop onto the neck of Charlie Matthews!

“Flying legdrop! Yes! Pin him, Duran! Pin him!”

Having gone for broke with a legdrop to the notoriously prone neck of Charlie Matthews, Duran moves his hurt body around--even though the legdrop was hit with the left knee, the right knee is still aching--and pins the Grappler’s shoulders to the mat, far too weak to hook the legs.

“This is it! Duran has finally realized his dream!” Riley shouts with glee.

Mark Hebner slides down to count the pinfall, the fans booing and begging Grappler to kick out.

ONE!

TWO!!!!!!

THREEEEEEE! DURAN HAS DONE IT! THE STREAK IS OVER!

…

NO, NO IT ISN’T!

Mark Hebner pops to his feet and signals to the timekeeper that it was only a two count, the fans still on their feet and letting out a collective sigh of relief as they see that Charlie’s shoulder is off the ground just long enough to break the three count!

“Comet, that’s bull! Hebner’s hand hit the mat for the third time! That’s a victory for Duran, and he’s being robbed by the referee!”

“The shoulder was up by the count of three! I think everyone here saw it! It was razor-close, but it was a good call from Mark Hebner, who is honestly one of the best referees the SWF has to offer!”

Duran’s disbelief with the referee has reached an all-time high, as he pounds the mat with his fists and then just glares at the referee. The Notorious One rises to his feet again, however, not willing to be held down by a referee’s decision, backing away from Grappler and urging the champion to get to his feet.

“Do you think this could be the chokeslam, Robert?”

“I hope it is, because the chokeslam is always a good sign that the Blunt Force Trauma is coming, and I can’t wait to see that finally hit once and for all, this time for the grandest prize in the business!”

As Matthews struggles to get to his feet, John makes damn sure that Charlie’s back is to the challenger at all times, as there definitely seems to be treachery afoot. Finally, Matthews reaches his feet…and Duran sneaks up from behind, locking on the full nelson!

“This is even worse,” Comet realizes. “Unless Matthews gives up right here, Duran is going to hit that dragon suplex, which will just serve to chip away at the already bum neck of Citizen Grappler!”

“Genius--“ Riley begins, but he is cut off.

For the Full Nelson turns into a Full Nelson bomb. Charlie is lifted into the air and then dropped onto his backbone, his back howling with pain and the crowd booing as they realize what this all is.

“BREAK POINT! BREAK POINT!” says Riley, sounding as if he is about to reach the climax of an orgasm.

“I can’t even begin to fathom when we last saw this move! It’s been so long!”

Sure enough, Duran leans back after the Full Nelson bomb, keeping the submission locked on and wrapping his legs around Matthews in a body scissors, cinching in the Break Point as the boos continue to torrentially rain down on Duran!

“We’ve got a new champion! I just know that Duran has it wrapped up right here!” Riley says, his confidence returning to him in a rush, seeing the Grappler caught in the Break Point.

Mark Hebner leans in quickly and asks if Grappler submits, but Charlie responds with a “NO!”…as Duran puts more pressure on the full nelson, pressing down hard onto the back of Charlie’s head and stretching out the back of the champion’s neck!

“He’s going to break his neck, Robert!”

“Then be quiet, I want it to be loud and clear when it snaps!”

Grappler thrashes inside the hold, trying to break it in any way possible.

“GRAP - PULL - ER!”

Mark Hebner once again leans in and asks the champion if he wants to end the match right now and submit…

…

…”NO!”

And with that, Charlie leans back, gnashing his teeth as his bloody face is contorted and in pain as he puts pressure on Duran, pinning his shoulders to the mat! John doesn’t even realize it until Hebner’s hand hits for

ONE!

TWO!!

THREEEEEEEENOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Duran is just barely able to release the Break Point and get Charlie’s body off him, bringing a shoulder up within a sliver of the three count, the crowd cheering for Matthews counter of the Break Point!

“Phew, what a close call!” says Riley with a sigh. “Duran was within inches of losing this match because of that big idiot throwing his weight around in the ring!”

“Matthews found a way out of the Break Point, and that’s all that matters! Neither of these men has found it inside themselves to see the need to quit, neither want to throw in the towel!”

Duran and Matthews both roll to their feet, and Charlie charges, but Duran makes like a matador, dodging the charging bull and tossing Matthews to the outside, the big man sailing over the top rope and landing on his feet before collapsing onto the ground!

“The action is going to the outside once again,” Riley notes, “and Duran is once again the catalyst of this action! He’s going to make Grappler bleed even more, and then it’ll all be academic from there, Comet!”

“Both men are broken, Robert! There’s no guaranteeing who will win this match, because neither look in good enough shape to put down the other for a three count!”

Duran leaves the ring despite Mark Hebner’s pleadings to just let Grappler get back into the ring under his own power. John has no intentions of bringing the champion back into the ring, however. As Duran approaches Matthews, the Grappler is on all fours.

ONE!

The Notorious One brings Matthews to his feet, taking his opponent over to the guardrail and looking for some face smashing. With Charlie’s bloody face smeared from his tumble to the outside, Duran goes to drive Charlie face first into the steel…but Matthews reaches out a hand, blocking the distance between him and the cold steel, and then using that hand to fire back an elbow into Duran’s face, taking his head and bringing it down to the steel!

TWO!

Duran bounces back from the blow of the steel, turning over onto his face and kicking his feet up and down, as the challenger would be lucky to not be missing any teeth after that unfortunate meeting with the guardrail!

“RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

“The fans are just eating this up, Robert! They haven’t seen something like this in a long time, and they’re rallying behind the man that they love!”

THREE!

Duran begins to get to his feet, latching on to the ring apron for support and pulling on it as he staggers to his feet. Grappler plays to the crowd a little bit more before turning around and burying a boot into Duran, doubling him over into a standing headscissors!

“Oh no! What is Citizen Grappler going to do?”

FOUR!

“Where is Mark Hebner in all of this? He needs to get between these two men NOW!”

Riley’s pleas are not answered, as the fans around the area where Grappler and Duran are stand to their feet, their mouths agape as Grappler wraps his arms around Duran and lifts him off the ground, holding him upside down and hanging precariously over the concrete before falling back hard with a--

“PILEDRIVER!” Comet screams at the top of his lungs. “Duran is dead! He’s not going to make it past the end of this match, let alone his career after that move!”

“What the hell is this? Disqualify Charlie Matthews! Suspend him! This is an outrage!” Riley is screaming as well, channeling the spirit of Comet with his injustice talk.

Charlie calmly reaches his feet as a mixture of chants goes into the air.

“HO - LY SHIT!”

“GRAP - PULL - ER!”

“HO - LY SHIT!”

“GRAP - PULL - ER!”

Mark Hebner is in shock after the piledriver on the outside, forgetting to even count as Matthews, still bleeding steadily, rolls back into the ring. Hebner finally continues his count, the crowd counting along with him.

FIVE!

Duran still hasn’t moved. Charlie raises his arms to the crowd, the crowd exploding with applause as the replay of the move plays on the SmarkTron, garnering “OOH”s from the members of the New Mexico crowd that didn’t see the move earlier.

SIX!

“I think this match is going to end in a countout, Robert!”

“Well, no shit on that one, Comet!” Riley’s swearing catches Comet off guard, but Bobby continues. “Grappler has just broken the rules right in front of the referee, and the referee simply let it slide! That can never happen again, Mark Hebner needs to be fired!

“Now, I think you need to calm down, Robert,” Comet attempts to console Riley while looking like the biggest pot to ever call the kettle black.

SEVEN!

Duran begins to show some signs of movement, as the crowd is in shock. Charlie hasn’t noticed that Duran is moving just yet, still playing to the crowd and clearing the blood out of his eyes.

EIGHT!

SMACK

Duran’s hand slaps onto the apron, and Matthews’ head jerks over to see that Duran is STILL moving! John climbs up using the ring apron again, and the fans are shocked to see that the now-bloody face of Duran is popping up above the ring while not in a stretcher.

NINE!

Duran slowly inches his way into the ring, beating the ten count barely as Duran looks like a wreck, blood from his forehead dripping onto the canvas, staining it red.

“This,” Riley points to the ring, “this is madness. Duran has thrown away all care for his body, and is now back in the ring with a psycho--as if Terrence wasn’t bad enough--in Matthews, who’s going to KILL him!”

Duran is on all fours now, fighting his way to his feet as Charlie looks over at him in astonishment. Matthews then shakes his head, calling for the end!

“He’s going for the Wake Up Call now!” calls Comet, “and there’s no way that Duran will be able to kick out if he hits this move!”

Charlie brings the challenger to his feet, but Duran seems to just be deadweight. Matthews puts Duran in a front facelock, putting the near arm over his shoulder and attempting to lift…but the deadweight and Charlie’s injuries just end up hurting Matthews! The Grappler tries one more time to lift Duran up into the air for the Weake Up Call…but it fails!

Riley is loving it. “Aahahahahahahah! These fans are waiting for the Wake Up Call with baited breath, and it’s not coming!”

“Like I said,” Comet reminds us, “neither of these men are strong enough to do anything, in the current state that they’re in!”

Charlie gives up on the Wake Up Call, simply guiding Duran into the ropes and Irish whipping him across.

“Could be a Judgment Slam from Matthews,” Comet analyzes, “it won’t take a lot of power to get Duran up for that!”

Duran has just enough power to move across the ring, rebounding off the ropes as Matthews bends down, for the fireman’s carry that would lead to the fluid death valley driver…but John stops short of Charlie, kicking him in the face! Matthews pops up, turning around and holding his face in pain…as Duran makes one last lunge of desperation, chop blocking Matthews’ left knee!

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

Both men collapse to the ground, the pain rushing through their bodies as Hebner looks at both men…and then begins the ten count.

ONE!

“What a move of desperation from Citizen Duran,” Comet marvels in amazement, “aggravating that left knee of Matthews one more time! Will it be enough to keep Charlie down!”

“He’s gotta pin him first! Come on, John! This is your chance!”

TWO!

But the chance slips away as Duran crawls away from his opponent, looking for some way to get to his feet. He claws at the referee’s pants, trying to find some assistance to get to his feet. Mark Hebner backs away, however, and Duran is forced to find some other way to reach his feet.

THREE!

Meanwhile, Matthews is getting to his feet by reaching at the turnbuckles, his knee looking weaker than ever as he tries not to put too much stress on it, grimacing in obvious pain as he hoists himself up to a vertical base using the turnbuckle ropes.

FOUR!

At the same time, Duran drags himself up using the ropes, letting himself hang there for a moment, catching his breath.

“Both men are up!” Riley calls, “This is finally it for Duran, he can do it right here, pick up a victory for all underdogs!”

“A victory for all underdogs who cheat their way to the top?”

“EXACTLY!”

Duran goes after Charlie, foolishly crouching down and going for a spear…as Matthews clubs Duran in the back, stopping him dead! The Grappler then follows it up by putting the challenger in a standing headscissors, the crowd standing on their feet.

“POWERBOMB!” Comet calls, “the move that finished Duran so long ago at Bringin’ The Funk one year ago! This is it! It has to be!”

“NO!” Riley screams in despair.

Charlie once again wraps his arms around Duran and lifts him up high into the air, hoisting him onto his shoulders.

“It is! The powerbomb’s coming for Duran!”

But the champion can’t hold on, as Duran slips out from behind Matthews, coming up behind him in the center of the ring!

“WHAT?” Riley is stunned for a moment, and then amazed. “He got out! Duran slid out of the Powerbomb!”

Duran’s brains are scrambled and his face is bloody, but he somehow finds the presence of mind to bend down, putting Charlie in an inverted fireman’s carry!

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

“YES! BLUNT FORCE TRAUMA!” Riley is almost out of his seat at this point, but it’s no different from the rest of the fans watching, standing on their feet.

Watching the 301 pound Charlie Matthews attempt to fight out of the position on Duran’s shoulders.

Duran’s knees are literally shaking under the weight of Matthews, but he locks them out for one last time, fighting through the pain.

But Duran does not feel Charlie on his shoulders anymore. He feels the burden. The burden of always being second best behind Duran.

Then the burden fades. The burden seems to be lifting off John’s shoulders, as if from some heavenly being.

With one last heave and a grunt of anger, Duran swings the legs of the champion out behind him, coming down fast…

…and sitting out in the Blunt Force Trauma.

“OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

“BLUNT FORCE TRAUMA!” Comet screams, “How did he hit that? How could he find the strength?”

One can’t imagine the stress put on Charlie’s neck through the Blunt Force Trauma, both men collapsing to the mat in a heap. The deafening boos begin to sink in, but Duran finally moves, turning his body over and crawling onto Charlie’s body, giving in as he covers Matthews, simply smothering the champion in what can hardly be considered a lateral press. But the shoulders are down, and Mark Hebner slides in to count

“Can Grappler do the impossible? Can he kick out of this Blunt Force Trauma?” Comet wonders out loud.

“If he does, then I QUIT!”

ONE!!!!!!!!!!

TWO!!!!!!!!!

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!

DING DING DING!

“HE DID IT! HE DID IT! THE STREAK IS OVER!” Riley shrieks over the boos that seem to be shaking the ground.

Spineshank’s “Synthetic” blares over the speakers (the band having left the arena long since performing), and Mark Hebner scurries over, receiving the SWF World Heavyweight Title from a ringside attendant as the crowd is ready to riot, the title being draped over the body of Duran, having rolled off Charlie Matthews’ body.

“YOUR WINNER,” yells Funyon, trying to announce over the rambunctious and PISSED crowd, “AND NEW SMARTMARKS WRESTLING FEDERATION HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION OF THE WORLD…JOHN DURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAN!”

Blinded from his own blood in his eyes, Duran turns over on his side, the belt falling to his side, lifeless. Paramedics rush down to the ring, almost a half-dozen men in blue quickly scampering to the ring to help both men, battered, broken, and bloody.

“These two men went through HELL,” Comet tries to sum it up in any words possible, “and now John Duran is the new World Heavyweight Champion!”

“More importantly, he did it fair and square, right in the center of that blood-stained ring!”

“That’s right, Robert. I hate to admit it, but for the first time in his career, it seems like Duran has finally earned a win!”

“Blasphemy! Duran has earned this title the only way he knew how, through hard work!”

“Well, whatever way you cut it, Duran has won this match, and has finally beaten a man who he could never figure out how to topple in previous meetings! I’m not sure what kind of state of mind Duran is in, but somewhere inside of him, he has to be bursting with joy!”

“Synthetic” continues, as Duran suddenly staggers to his feet, pushing the paramedics away as the others continue to check on Matthews. Duran holds his neck in pain, reaching down to grab his title belt and hoisting it over his head. Duran releases his hand from his neck, long enough to hold a middle finger up in the air as well, the fans booing him to no end!

Comet sends us home. “From all of us here at the SWF, we thank you for buying this pay-per-view event! Good night everybody!”

But Duran is happier than he’ll ever be, despite all the pain. For once again, Charlie Matthews and John Duran met in the ring, with so much at stake for both men.

This time, the Notorious One…the Sinner… John Duran stands tall.

++++++++++++++++++++++++

Smartmarks Wrestling Federation

www.theswf.net

++++++++++++++++++++++++

the.weej · April 26, 2004

And that's a wrap. Shit, it's a PPV, what can I say? No filler, just all good wrestling through and through. Read and comment, mu'fuckas.

Don't expect a card anytime soon, although you're missing out on absolutely nothing - Storm will be an all promo show anyway.

Now, READ! This is GOOD STUFF, DAMN IT.

-Z

SWF BATTLEGROUND!! 2004!!!

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