The SWF Holds Down Christmas!

[Guest BA_Baracus]

[The arena is completely black.

 

A faint jingling sound can be heard through the darkness...coming closer and closer. Suddenly a large sleigh and 8 (uhm... or is it 12?) tiny reindeer blast through the screen along with a large burst of snow-white sparks. Santa sails out over the audience, floats there for a second then explodes is a fiery blaze of red felt and wrapping paper!

 

The fans cheer as we cut to the announcer's table...]

 

Mark Stevens - Welcome to the latest SWF pay per view extravaganza, the SWF Holds Down Christmas!

 

Bobby Riley - Did we just kill Santa?

 

Stevens - No, no...that was just one of Santa's "helpers" Riley...

 

Riley - So...we just killed some random guy?

 

Stevens - Yup.

 

Riley - Well, then that's okay then.

 

Stevens - On with the show!

[Guest BA_Baracus]

TRIPLE THREAT HARDCORE TITLE MATCH

Michael Craven © vs. Ced Ordonez vs. Stryke

- Michael Craven has a new name and he’s more determined to succeed than he’s ever been, but will he survive a hardcore onslaught from Ced Ordonez and Stryke?

Match Description – Regular DQ and count-out rules are not in effect. Submissions, pinfalls and knockouts count anywhere within the arena. Once a man’s eliminated he can still participate in the match, but can no longer be found the winner.

 

SUBMISSION MATCH

Sigil vs. Judge Mental

- While once considered possible Magnificent 7 material, Sigil has instead become an adversary to the stable and the newest M7 member, Judge Mental, has made it his mission to extinguish him. They’ve fought once before, but this time the stakes have been raised as they’ll be facing off in a submission match.

Match Description – DQ and count-out rules are in effect. The first man to make his opponent submit within the ring is the winner.

 

NO-DQ US TITLE MATCH

Danny Williams © vs. Annie Eclectic

- When Annie was ejected from the M7 Danny Williams kicked the poop out of Annie on behalf of Tom Flesher. This led to a US title match, which Danny Williams won. The rematch ended indecisively, so this match is no-DQ to make sure we have a winner.

Match Description – Regular DQ and count-out rules are not in effect. Submissions, pinfalls and knockouts only count within the ring.

 

SINGLES MATCH

Alex Zenon vs. Mak Francis

- Two men on the cusp of possibly greater things in the fed. Which man will triumph this Sunday?

 

LAST MAN STANDING ICTV TITLE MATCH

Orochi © vs. Nathaniel Kibagami

- Their names may have changed but these two, formerly known as Thoth and Silent have not forgotten the bad blood between them. They’ll battle for the ICTV title this Sunday!

Match Description – Regular DQ and count-out rules are not in effect. The winner is the first man to knock his opponent out for a count of 10.

 

SINGLES MATCH FOR A SWF CONTRACT

Hville Thugg vs. Bayawolf [referee - Suicide King]

- The Hville Thugg made his return to the SWF at Ashes to Ashes, to the chagrin of our beloved commissioner. Stubby refused to give Thugg a contract, but of course the former champ wasn’t going to take that lying down. Thugg’s been showing up at SWF shows and causing trouble for a weeks now, so finally Stubby gave in and booked this match. If Thugg can beat Bayawolf, he gets his contract…if not he’s SOL, it’s that simple.

 

SWF HEAVYWEIGHT TITLE CAGE MATCH

El Luchadore Magnifico © vs. Tom Flesher

- Magnifico aligned himself with the renegade Thugg, and as a punishment for this Stubby decided that if anyone were to capture Thugg after he had snuck into a SWF show, they would get a title shot. Well, with the help of the Magnificent 7, Tom Flesher did just that and will face Magnifico this Sunday!

Match Description - The ring will be surrounded by an approximately 20 foot tall steel cage. To win, one man has to climb over the top and touch both feet to the floor. The door to the cage will be locked and escaping through the door is not a valid way to win the match.

[Guest BA_Baracus]

“Don’t Drag Me Down” by Social Distortion blasts loudly over the speakers as we return to The MCI Center in Washington, DC! The crowd roars to their feet in approval as we return from commercial, and signs “SANTA FEARS KING!!!!” “It’s time for Kingsmas” (to celebrate the birth of everyone’s personal Jesus Christ, Suicide King), and “SACRED GOT HELD DOWN!!!!”. And then, from the announcer’s table, comes...

 

Stevens: IT’S CHRISTMASTIME IN THE NATION’S CAPITAL!!! AND THAT MEANS IT’S TIME FOR THE SWF HOLDS DOWN CHRISTMAS!!! Where we promise you won’t get shafted with a piece of coal in your stocking!

 

Riley: Unless your name is Jay Dawg!

 

Stevens: Joined by Bobby Riley, I’m “Grand Slam” Mark Stevens, and what a beautiful set we have to night! Can we get a shot of that, Gus?

 

The set itself is glorious. The entranceway is now a fireplace, the actual hole where the competitors enter decorated as a fireplace mantle, with flame graphics projected onto the screen behind the entranceway. Stockings hang from the mantle, which is surrounded by half of a large green steel wreath. The Smarktron on either side of the entrance set-up is identical to the one Smackdown uses, as a large green metal tree, with gigantic ornaments and working Christmas lights, rises up from above the entranceway. A star adorns the top of the tree, with a neon SWF logo in the center of it. The stage and backdrop are all illustriously decorated with garland, and a large wreath hangs below each Smarktron, with the SWF logo in the center of those as well.

 

Stevens: Not to mention the ring!

 

The ring is also festive. The mat is it’s usual white, the ropes are red, and the turnbuckle pads black, but the apron is a Christmas green with the “Holds Down Christmas” logo placed on there as any usual logo is. The ring posts are silver like Smackdown’s, each adorned with 3 small sprigs of holly, arranged vertically and affixed to the side opposite the pads. Even the referee is in the festive spirit, Stubby forcing him to wear a Santa hat as he refs.

 

Riley: Hey, I’m in the festive spirit, too!!!!!

 

Stevens: Only because if you didn’t he was going to fire you... and couldn’t you have picked out something else?

 

Cue the shot of the two announcers. Stevens wears a dress shirt and Christmas Tie, while bobby Riley wears a cream Christmas Tree sweater... with lights imbedded inside of them that flash in a multitude of patterns. Riley reaches inside a sleeve and turns a switch to increase the frequency of the lights flashing. People who suffer seizures from flashing lights may want to look away right now.

 

Riley: It’s a free country. I can wear what I want.

 

Stevens: Said the Fashion Police’s Public Enemy #1...

 

Riley: Is there some way we can trade you in for a newer model? A Michael Cole, perhaps?

 

Stevens: Concentrate, Bobby... we have a match at hand.

 

Riley: We do?

 

Stevens: Um... yeah. Hardcore Title.

 

Bobby still looks confused.

 

Stevens: Michael Craven vs. Stryke vs. Ced Ordonez in a elimination triple threat?

 

Riley: Oooooooooooh... yeah... well... let’s get on with it... I usually get cut-off in mid-sentence by someone’s entrance, and that pisses me off-

 

The shot transitions from Stevens to Funyon standing in the ring preparing for his introductions. “Esaka?” from King of Fighters ’96 blares through the arena as the lights fade. A lone spotlight shines down on a form at the top of the entrance stage with a purple towel draped over his lowered head.

 

Funyon: The following contest is an elimination triple threat match for the SWF HARDCORE CHAMPIONSHIP!!! Introducing first, from Sacramento, California, at a weight of 203 pounds… CED ORDONEZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!

 

Riley: See what I mean?

 

The scrappy lightweight throws his head back as the houselights return to full. He absent-mindedly whips his towel into the crowd and trots lethargically down the ramp.

 

Stevens: A mixed reaction from the crowd here as the very talented Ced Ordonez gets ready for a shot to win his 2nd Hardcore Title!!!

 

Just as “Esaka?” ends, we pick it right up as Jay Gordon's mix of Linkin Park's "Point Of Authority" kicks off from the sound system. Just as the song kicks in, a huge wall of white and orange pyro bursts onto the stage, creating a loud booming sound. As the pyro smoke clears, out steps from the curtains the returning superstar himself.

 

Funyon: And his opponent... from Sydney, Australia... weighing in at 210 lbs... STRYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYKE!!

 

While the fans welcome back the wonder from down under, Stryke takes a quick moment on the ramp to acknowledge the cheering masses with a quick nod of the head. He resumes his way down as he psyches himself up and charges under the bottom rope, entering the ring in aggressive fashion.

 

Riley: I can’t believe this man is now a fan favorite! He’s a former 2 time Hardcore Champ, plus he and Craven have some interesting back history! Should be interesting to see these old feuds get re-fired back up!

 

The lights cut out, the crowd begins to cheer a little. Strobe lights pulse to the beat as Audioslave’s “Cochise” kicks in, smoke spewing from vents in front of the entrance as the drums cue in 24 seconds into the song. This is when the pyro similar to Christian’s entrance begins flowing from the top of the SmarkTron.

 

Riley: I’m telling you right now, Mark, this guy is one of the future cornerstones of the SWF!

 

A huge pyro blast kicks up from the front of the stage at the guitar drop (about 50 seconds in). Flames simultaneously shoot high up into the air on the edges of the stage not touching the ramp. They shoot up Booker T style into the air in beat with the song following the initial blast, as a red tint covers the stage. Suddenly, as Chris Cornell begins to sing, a spotlight shines down on Mike Craven as he bursts through the smoke cloud in a half-sprint, looking just a tad bit on the intense side. He stops turning to look at the fans, and quickly begins to pound his chest, pump his fist into the air and do other things to pump the crowd up, running all over the stage as the strobes pulse in tempo with the song behind Mike. After doing this for a short amount of time, he turns around, points at the ring as he hops in place like Brock Lesnar’s Happy Dance, and sprints down to the ring like the Ultimate Warrior, slapping hands with as many of the fans as he can. At this time, Mr. Nagasaki appears through the smoke, chasing after Mike.

 

Funyon: And being accompanied by Mr. Nagasaki, from Tampa, Florida, weighing in at 260 pounds, he is a member of X FORCE NIIIIIIINE AND THE SWF HARDCORE CHAMPION... “THE NIGHTMARE” MIIIIIICHAEL CRAAAAAAAAVEN!!!!

 

Still in full stride, he slides under the bottom rope. Mike then hops up to his feet, turning around and snapping the ropes violently like Brock Lesnar does before he turns back around in a flash. He climbs the turnbuckle closest to the crowd and usually takes off his shirt, whipping it into the first two or three rows of the crowd, giving a lucky fan a souvenir to take home. Mike then lifts both arms into the air with an intense look, hops off the turnbuckle, walks across the ring to another turnbuckle. He climbs this and repeats the arm-lifting, then hops down and turns to face both Ced and Stryke as Nagasaki exits the ring. He flashes the title to the two men before he smiles and hand sit off to the ref, going off to warm up in his own corner.

 

Riley: The greatest Hardcore Champ of all time is here!!! Four-time, four-time, four-time, four-time Hardcore Champ Michael Craven is here to defend his title tonight!

 

Stevens: He seems a bit cocky...

 

Riley: Oh come on. That’s just joy. He’s just happy he’s so great!

 

As “Cochise” cuts out, Referee Timmy Thompson signals to the timekeeper, who in turn reaches over, and...

 

DING DING DING!!!

 

Craven pulls himself out of the corner as he approaches the other two men, but before anything can go down, between Craven and the other two, Stryke turns on Ced Ordonez, nailing the unsuspecting Ced in the back of the head with a forearm smash! Ced falls to the mat and Stryke staggers forward as Craven powers out of the corner, arm drawn out as he smashes Stryke down with a clothesline! As he lies on the mat, though, Ced quickly spins himself around, sliding his feet into Craven’s. Mike falls back and slams into a bit as Ced sweeps Mike’s feet out from under him, but all three men get back to their feet, and the quick tempo only picks up even further. As he gets up, craven is grabbed by the head and flipped over Stryke’s shoulder, slamming on his back with a snap mare, but as Stryke gets to his feet, Ced drops down and extends his feet out, dropkicking Stryke in the back of one knee. Stryke screams out in pain as he falls forward, but Ced has little time to celebrate as Craven recovers from the snap mare. The Nightmare quickly draws his arm back and slams it into Ced’s gut, causing Ordonez to bend over as Craven grabs him around the head, grabs hold of his purple tights, and lifts him into the air, dropping back quickly into a snap suplex!

 

Stevens: Wonderful, high-energy start to this match as Ced Ordonez, Michael Craven, and Stryke battle for the title!

 

Riley: More like a total free-for-all melee...

 

Craven rolls onto his chest to cover Ced...

 

 

 

 

But Ordonez immediately kicks out! No need to explain it here. As Craven begins to get up, though, a recovered Stryke drops an elbow into Craven’s back. Craven falls to the mat while Ordonez gets to his feet, just in time for Stryke to grab him by the tights and throw him through the ropes to the outside. Ced does a half-flip in mid-air and lands with a “Thud!” on the pavement as he grabs his back in pain.

 

Stevens: Ordonez takes a spill, and it looks like he might be hurt!

 

Riley: Oh come on! It didn’t hurt him that much! The guy falls and gets a little sore spot, and you make it sound like a career-ending injury. Puh-lease!

 

Stryke begins to throw stomps into Craven’s back, The Nightmare crying in pain before he rolls out of the way and gets to his feet. As he does, though, Stryke grabs him around the head, grabs hold of his tights, and lifts him into the air, dropping back quickly into a snap suplex! Craven cries out in a bit of pain as Stryke holds the headlock on, pulling Mike back up to his feet. The two stand for a second before Stryke drops onto his back, nailing a DDT on Craven! Craven lands on his head, collapsing onto his chest before Stryke rolls him onto his back and hooks his leg for a pin!

 

One!

 

 

And Craven kicks out!

 

Stevens: Kickout by Michael Craven following a Stryke DDT!

 

Riley: Gee, what a surprise. Stryke couldn’t harm a fly. I saw it. He saw one today and cowered like a caveman’s first glimpse of fire!

 

Stevens: Craven starting to mount a real offense here-

 

Riley: There’s been one suplex! It’s not offense! My grandma can do that!

 

As both men get to their feet, Craven smashes into Stryke’s face with a quick punch, followed in succession by another and another, sending Stryke staggering backwards. The Aussie can bare recover before Mike unloads a knife-edge chop across Stryke's chest, sending a "SMACK" echoing through the arena and coaxing a "WOO!" from the fans.

 

Stevens: Craven with a hard chop across the chest of Stryke-

 

Stryke tries to ignore the pain but Craven uncorks another chop before Stryke can react. “SMACK!” “WOO!” Stryke is staggering backwards, and Craven grabs hold of his arm, giving it a hard tug as he whips Stryke to the ropes!

 

Stevens: Followed by another chop and a whip to the ropes to Stryke from Craven!

 

He hits the ropes, nearly flipping over from the force as he flies back at Craven. Craven ducks down, scooping him across his chest as he spins and drops to the mat, slamming Stryke hard down onto his back and rib cage with a powerslam!

 

Stevens: Ooooooooooh!!! Vicious powerslam from Michael Craven!

 

The Aussie screams out as if he had just been injured while Craven remains on top of Stryke, leg hooked as he attempts a pinfall!

 

One!!

 

Riley: Kickout by Stryke. There’s not a lot of hardcore in this match yet...

 

Stevens: Patience, Bobby, it’ll come in time...

 

Riley: Come in time?!?! It better come RIGHT NOW!

 

Stevens: Unlike you usually do... or so your gay partner told me online yesterday.

 

Riley: Oh, funny, smartass. Just focus on the match.

 

Craven allows Stryke to get to his feet, a mistake, as when Craven attempts to go for a forearm smash, Stryke ducks behind him, grabbing him around the neck in a sleeper hold for only a second before he drops down, snapping the back of Mike’s head into the canvas!

 

Stevens: Sleeper drop from Stryke!

 

Riley: Isn’t that move outlawed in 48 states and Canada?

 

Craven remains down on the mat as Stryke gets to his feet, but quickly, he drops down, dropping an elbow across the chest of Michael Craven with an elbow drop pin that effectively pins Craven to the mat as the ref counts!

 

Riley: THAT’S ILLEGAL!!!

 

 

One!

 

 

Stevens: What?!?!

 

 

Craven kicks out just before two! Stryke cannot believe he didn’t get at least a two-count, and he seems a little stressed about the whole thing.

 

Riley: You know... the elbow drop pin... that WAS A CLOSED ELBOW!!!!

 

Stevens: How do you close an elbow?

 

Riley: It’s in the New York Times Best-Seller “Heel Wrestling For Dummies” by Suicide King, only $19.95 at SWF ShopCenter, folks!

 

Following the pin, Stryke grabs Craven, pulling him to his feet, as outside, on the apron, Ced Ordonez reappears after a long hiatus from the match. Stryke grabs Craven’s arm and unknowingly whips him towards Ced as Ordonez looks up. Stryke charges after Mike as Craven drops to the mat, sliding in between Ced’s legs as he stands on the apron! Craven slides out of the ring as Ordonez jumps to the top rope and leaps off, thrusting his legs forward at the running Stryke. Stryke’s head whips back as he receives a springboard missile dropkick to the face from Ced Ordonez!

 

Stevens: This has been a fast-paced encounter thus far, with no clear advantage being established as we speak!

 

Riley: No clear advantage?! What are you SMOKING?? Look who is down and OUT on the floor! And look who is standing tall in the ring!! That's right: Ced Freakin’ Ordonez! Now tell me there’s no clear advantage!

 

Ordonez literally leaps on top of the downed Stryke as he suffers from the dropkick, covering him for a pinning attempt!

 

One!!

 

Two-Kickout by Stryke before Two! Ordonez lets out a quick sigh, but he should have known that wouldn’t be enough to keep Stryke down for the count. And so, Ordonez slowly gets to his feet, dropping a quick elbow into Stryke’s knee. The Aussie cries out from the elbow, but Stryke slowly tries to get up as Ced punches his heel into Stryke’s knee.

 

Stevens: Ordonez going to work on the knee of Stryke, most likely to soften it up for the Cross Lightning!

 

Riley: By the way... where’s Michael Craven? Did he just give up the title or something?

 

The first visible sign of Craven is a shot showing both Ced and Stryke, where a 20-foot ladder and 10-foot ladder, as well as a steel chair, have been excavated from under the ring. Nagasaki and Craven work together as a team, pulling out another 10-foot ladder and chair, plus a kendo stick in the time that Ced pulls Stryke to his feet.

 

Riley: Come on, Craven! Get in the ring and fight like a real man, you pathetic weakling!

 

Stevens: What was that for?

 

Riley: Reverse psychology encouragement, Mark. You learn those kind of things when you go to college and don’t spend your life obsessed with baseball.

 

As Stryke gets to his feet, Ced drops to his side, grabbing Stryke around the leg which Ced was working on. He then trips him up and throws him forward, right into a drop toe hold! Stryke hits the mat, but Ced doesn’t give up. He bends Stryke's leg so his shin lies across Ced's thigh. While on his stomach, Ced scissors Stryke's leg. He then reaches forward and applies a crossface hold on Stryke, executing an STF hold! Stryke, though, rolls onto his back quickly, which startles Ced and breaks the hold only after a few seconds.

 

Stevens: Ordonez going for the STF, but Stryke stuns him and breaks out of it!

 

Riley: Ced’s got to do a lot better than that if he hopes to win. He’s looking quite sloppy out there right now!

 

Stryke slowly tries to get to his feet, but Ced hops to his, and quickly, he grabs hold of Stryke’s arm, whipping him wildly to the ropes. As Stryke is whipped to the ropes, Craven hops back up onto them, brandishing a steel chair, which he slams into Stryke’s face with a “CLANK!”. Ced Ordonez doesn’t see Craven as he charges after Stryke, and he, too, feels the pain as Craven smashes his skull in with a chair shot!

 

“CLANK!”

 

Riley: They’re dropping like flies! How brutally enjoyable!

 

As Ced slowly gets to his feet, Mike Craven enters the ring, grabs a 10-foot ladder, and throws it at Ced. Ced staggers back a few feet as he catches the ladder, but then, as he moves forward toward Mike again, Craven leaps into the air, extending both legs and planting them in the ladder and Ced’s chest with a quick missile dropkick called the Rocket Launch! Both men fall down, but only Mike gets up as the ladder falls on Ced with a “CLANK!”. Ced remains down as Mike quickly recovers, getting to his feet and running to the ropes. He bounces off them, doing a front somersault at the side of Ced. Rolling onto his feet next to Ced, he springs into the air, coiling and uncoiling his arms into a rolling five-star frog splash onto the ladder, his chest slamming into the ladder and Ced’s chest! Ced cries out in pain from the move as Mike bounces off Ced, the ladder clanking as a result of the move.

 

Riley: ROLLING FIVE STAR FROM MICHAEL CRAVEN! AND WHAT A CHEAP SHOT IT IS!

 

Stevens: How’s that cheap?

 

Riley: He’s gotta use the ladder to amplify the move because he’s such a pussy that he can’t pin anyone to the mat!

 

Stevens: May I remind you this is a HARDCORE MATCH, Bobby...

 

Riley: Those kind of things need to be outlawed. Wrestling needs to be about STRENGTH!!!!!

 

Stevens: *sigh* I’ll never understand you, Bobby...

 

Craven grabs his back as he turns himself around, pushing the ladder off Ced in order to gain a pinning attempt!

 

One!

 

 

 

Two!

 

...

 

Stryke drops an elbow into Craven’s back from nowhere, breaking the pin up as Craven lets out a soft cry. He falls off Ced as he and Stryke both quickly get to their feet, and as they do, Craven thrusts his palm forward into Stryke’s chest, the crowd popping slightly as Craven quickly clenches his fist and drives it up under Stryke’s chin with a rising uppercut! Stryke staggers back and falls through the ropes, smacking his head hard on the apron with a “THUD!” as he has the wind knocked out of him.

 

Riley: DOWN GOES STRYKE!!! DOWN GOES STRYKE!!!

 

Stevens: Oh, cut it out! You’re just pissed because the crowd loves the guy.

 

Riley: And you point is?

 

Craven stands over Stryke, taunting him as the crowd actually begins to boo Craven a bit, but as they do, Ced Ordonez, clenching his ribs, grabs Craven from behind, lifting Craven up so he is on Ced’s shoulder. Ced then falls backwards and drops Mike to the mat on his back with a back drop. Craven cries out a tiny bit as Ced releases him, allowing him to get to his feet. As Ced hops to his feet and Craven grabs his back and slowly gets to his feet, he unloads a knife-edge chop across Craven's chest, sending a "SMACK" echoing through the arena and coaxing a "WOO!" from the fans. Craven tries to ignore the pain but Ced uncorks another chop before Craven can react. “SMACK!” “WOO!” Craven is stunned and doubles over as Ced follows through, hooking both of Mike’s arms behind his back as if for an underhook suplex, but Ced lifts Mike up slightly and falls to the mat, driving him head first into the mat to a pop with a double arm DDT!!!

 

Riley: And Ordonez steals from Japan as he pulls off a double arm DDT!

 

Stevens: If you’d only studied your wrestling history more, you wouldn’t have been so dumb. Plus, you would have known that Cactus Jack brought that move into the US from Japan-

 

Riley: You can’t say that about me! I went to college!

 

Craven’s head bounces off the mat, but Ced rolls him over onto his back and covers him quickly...

 

Stevens: Pinfall attempt here by Ced Ordonez! Is it enough?

 

One!

 

 

Two!

 

 

Kickout by Craven at two and a half! The crowd pops slightly as Craven looks to be in a bit of pain and does not get up while Ced loses the pin on Mike, Ordonez slowly getting to his feet. Craven rolls onto his chest as Ordonez jumps in the air and drops both knees into Craven’s back. Craven screams out softly in pain as he rolls onto his back to shield it from further attack, allowing Ced to hook Craven’s leg as he drops on top of him for another pin while Stryke slowly begins to get up...

 

One!

 

Two- Kickout by Craven! Ced is thrown out of the pin, but quickly, he tries another pin, going through all the motions as Timmy Thompson drops to the mat to make another count!

 

One!

 

Not even a two-count this time as Craven gets the shoulder up on Ced Ordonez. Ordonez hears the crowd chanting “WE WANT LADDERS!!! *clap clap clap-clap-clap*”. Ordonez looks around for the requested weaponry, and upon finding it, quickly grabs it, lifts it up, and in a split-second, sets the ladder up

 

Stevens: Ordonez going for the ladder here!

 

Riley: Obviously, Mark. Since Ced can’t jump high and has no mobility, he’s gotta jump from high places!

 

Stevens: You’re kidding me, right? Have you ever watched Ced wrestle?

 

Riley: I tend to fall asleep during those matches...

 

The ladder is waiting, and the crowd cheers as Ced signals he’s going to climb to the top, but before he can, but he gets knocked down by Stryke from behind as Stryke slams a forearm into the back of Ced’s head. Ced falls to the mat while Stryke searches for and finds the other ladder, grabbing it, along with one of the steel chairs, and setting it up. Ordonez begins to recover as the crowd cheers, but Stryke takes some time out of setting the ladder up just to dropkick Ced back down to the mat to a sizable pop from the crowd. Ced grabs his ribs in pain as Stryke’s feet hit them, and after Ced falls to the mat, Stryke hops back up onto his feet, setting the ladder up to it’s full extent and starting to climb to the top as the crowd cheers.

 

Riley: I like the old Stryke better. He kicked sooo much ass! This one is a pathetic weakling who climbs up ladders and jumps off them like HBK!

 

Stevens: BUT CRAVEN’S ON THE OTHER LADDER!!!! Stryke and Ced ignored Craven after Ced pinned him, and he’s gotten away from both men!

 

Mark is correct, as the delay of no one attacking Michael Craven has allowed him to get to his feet and climb halfway up the ladder. He slowly climbs, reaching up for the top. Stryke notices that on top of the ladder, Craven will have an advantage, and he, too, begins to climb up the ladder at a faster pace, hoping to take that advantage away, because in this match, any advantage could mean the end of the match. Rung by rung they go, Stryke slowly catching Craven, the crowd cheering loudly. Finally, both men rreach the top and pull themselves to the top of the ladder.

 

Stevens: My God! They’re 10 feet high on those ladders! What are they going to do now?!?!

 

Riley: They’re going to sit there and have a conversation about nuclear physics, Mark. WHAT DO YOU THINK IS GONNA HAPPEN?!?! THEY’RE GONNA JUMP!!!

 

The two steady themselves, and then, simultaneously, leap from the top of the ladders at each other. The ladders still stand as both men thrust their left arm out for a diving clothesline, but they violently collide in mid air as their arms catch each other! Suddenly, both men drop to the mat from 10 feet in the air, slamming each other down as they inadvertently hit a neckbreaker drop on each other!

 

Riley: HOLY SHIT!!!! WHAT A HIT!!!

 

Crowd: HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!

 

Stevens: OH MY GOD!!!! A DOUBLE NECKBREAKER DROP FROM THE TOP ROPE! THEY COULD HAVE JUST KILLED EACH OTHER!!!!

 

The ring shakes violently as the two men land on it, and then, they stay down for quite a while, grimacing in expressions of pain as Ced Ordonez gets to his feet. The crowd is still buzzing from the last move, and as Ced gets to his feet, he points at the big 20-foot ladder, smiling as the crowd pops again!

 

Stevens: Ced Ordonez is bringing out the BIG hardware now! This match isn’t going to last much longer!

 

Ordonez grabs hold of the ladder, but instead of setting it up, he drags it with him as he climbs one of the still-standing 10-foot ladders.

 

Riley: WHY ISN’T CED PINNING THE BOTH OF THEM?!?! HE COULD HAVE WON BY NOW!!! WHAT A DUMBASS!!!

 

Once he gets to the top, he slides the 20-foot ladder across the top, sliding it to the top of the other ladder. The tops of the two ladders slip between two of the 20-foot ladder’s rungs on either side, bridging the two ladders together and creating:

 

Stevens: HE’S CREATED A SCAFFOLDING WITH THE LADDERS!!! WE HAVEN’T SEEN ONE OF THOSE SINCE WCW WAS AROUND!!!

 

Riley: And for good reason: WCW SUCKED!

 

Craven rolls onto his back, grabbing his back in pain, but he slowly tries to get up as Ordonez pulls himself onto the scaffolding. He stands up on the sketchy ladder structure and notices Craven’s back, which seems to have started to hurt, exposed. Craven stumbles and slips, giving Ordonez the opportunity he needs. He throws his arms out to the side, tilts forward, and falls from the ladder, plummeting 10-feet down before his head finally slams into the back of Michael Craven!

 

Stevens: WHAT A HEADBUTT!!! THAT MIGHT HAVE BROKEN CRAVEN’S BACK!!! But it looks like Ordonez may have paid a price, too!

 

Riley: HE FUCKIN’ FELL OFF A LADDER! WHAT’S SO IMPRESSIVE ABOUT THAT?!?!

 

Crowd: HOLY SHIT!!!

 

Craven screams in even more pain, his eyes sooting open as Ced bounces onto his back from the diving headbutt as the crowd continues it’s chant. Ordonez grabs his head and his chest, as his ribs accidentally have slammed into Michael Craven’s right heel from the blow, and all three men in the match are down on the mat!

 

Stevens: ALL THREE MEN DOWN!!! WHAT A CLIMATIC SCENE!!!

 

Riley: Don’t blow your load, Stevens. You’ll make a mess, and Lynn would be pissed.

 

Slowly, as they get to their feet, somewhat injured, Stryke and Ced Ordonez both see that Craven is down and hurting, and both, at the same time, decide to climb up the ladder and finish him off with a move from the top of the scaffolding. Each men slowly makes their way, staggering towards a ladder, and begins to climb up the ladder. They slowly climb at the same rate as the crowd cheers, first reaching the halfway point. Rung by rung they go, Stryke and Ced climbing up to the top as Michael Craven tries to get up on the mat, but the Hardcore Champ slips and falls on his face, the crowd cheering loudly. Finally, both men reach the top and pull themselves to the top of the ladder. Looking up, they happen to see each other, and as they get to their feet, each knows the other must be knocked off in order for them to win.

 

Stevens: This is it, Bobby! It all comes down to this!

 

Riley: It all comes down to this? You’re kidding! Craven’s still in this match, so there’s no way this match ends like this!

 

As they get to their feet, Stryke swings his leg forward to try and nail Ced with a kick to the chest , but Ced catches it. He tugs at Stryke’s leg as he glides past and flips him over to his back, the crowd letting out a gasp as the scaffold shakes violently. Stryke lands on his back, crying in pain as he grabs his knee, the same one Ced has been working on the whole match. Ced, though, turns away and grabs one leg, bending it sideways in front of one of Ced's own legs and on top of Stryke's other leg, forming a "4" with Stryke's legs. Stryke screams in pain as Ced holds Stryke's straight leg, pinning his legs into place. Ced then does something remarkable: He grabs hold of the side of the ladder with one hand and leans back OVER THE EDGE, forcing Stryke's legs to be bent at a severe angle and with great pressure as the crowd goes nuts, Ced having locked in a Nagata Lock!

 

Stevens: CROSS LIGHTINING!!! CED’S GOT IT LOCKED IN! STRYKE’S GONNA TAP!

 

Riley: Can Ced hang over the edge like that? Not only is he breaking the rules of the match, but the rules of physics, too!

 

Stryke grabs hold of the ladder as he tries to weather the hold, Ced laughing happily, but suddenly, as the shot pans out wide, we catch a glimpse of someone dropkicking one of the supporting ladders, destroying the ladder scaffold! That man, Michael Craven, falls to the mat as the crowd both cheers and boos Craven, most of the booing coming from Ced fans. The 20-foot ladder falls, one end slamming into the ring before the whole thing tips over, slamming Ced into the mat while Stryke, who grabbed onto the ladder, escapes unscathed! Well, except for his knee...

 

Stevens: CRAVEN’S BROKEN THE SCAFFOLD!!!

 

Riley: What a tragedy. Why don’t we just end the match because the damn scaffold broke?

 

Stevens: Ced was applying the Cross Lightning over the edge of the scaffolding and had Stryke eliminated, but Stryke was saved by who else but Michael Craven, a man he fought over the Hardcore Title with before, and is again tonight!

 

Riley: In normal people talk: Stryke was about to lose, but now he’s not.

 

Stevens: But Ced almost had him! And now he’s getting up! What’s gonna happen here?

 

To Be continued...

[Guest BA_Baracus]

As Ced Ordonez recovers from the move, Michael Craven moves back towards the kendo stick, clutching it with both hands. He turns around, hands trembling, lets out a cry, and charges at Ced, swinging it down at the dazed Ced, and...

 

 

 

 

 

“CRACK!”

 

 

 

...Slams it into Ced’s head, the stick splintering in two upon contact! The blow knocks Ced out cold, and if that wasn’t enough, Stryke, who did not fall from the ladder and watches the entire thing happen before his eyes, runs to the ropes, leaping off as he flips back and lands on top of Ced, crushing him with a Lionsault!

 

Riley: THAT’S CHEAP! STRYKE’S GONNA ELIMINATE CED AND LET CRAVEN DO ALL THE DIRTY WORK FOR HIM! I REALLY HATE THIS NEW STRYKE!

 

Stevens: METEOR FROM STRYKE! COVER!

 

 

ONE!!!

 

 

 

TWO!!!

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!!!

 

Ced Ordonez is eliminated!!!!!! The crowd begins to boo a little as they see this unfold in front of their eyes, with Funyon proclaiming:

 

Funyon: Ced Ordonez has been eliminated from this match!

 

Stevens: Stryke eliminates Ordonez, leaving Craven the only man in the way of Stryke’s 3rd title reign!

 

Riley: They must have been working together!! This... this has got to be some SECRET plan to make it so that Stryke and Craven are the only ones who can ever hold the Hardcore Title! It’s like... *gasp* THE SWF KLIQ!!!!

 

Stevens: Oh, stop being so paranoid. There’s no Kliq in the SWF!

Craven watches as Stryke gets to his feet, both men staring each other down, Stryke even doing it as he gets up from the Lionsault he just hit.

 

Riley: Craven’s wasting time here! He should be all over Stryke like flies on shit!

 

Stevens: Bobby, that cliche has be soooooo overused...

 

The two stare each other down for a second before Craven slaps the taste out of Stryke’s mouth, following with a hard right punch!

 

Stevens: And here we go!

 

Stryke’s head whips to the side, but he counters with a hard right of his own, setting off a series of exchanging blows: Craven, then Stryke, then Craven, then Stryke, then Craven, then Stryke, then Craven, then Craven, then Craven again as he begins to over-power Stryke, but Stryke cuts him off by ducking a punch and sliding behind Craven. He waistlocks the Hardcore Champion, readying him for a vicious German suplex, but Craven elbows him in the ribs, causing Stryke to temporarily loosen the hold as Mike reverses it with one of his own. With Craven looking like he’ll German Stryke, The Aussie throws an eblow back into Craven’s head and reverses the waist lock into another Stryke waist lock! Stryke takes no chances this time as he lifts Craven into the air and slams him into the mat with a German suplex!

 

Stevens: Beautiful German suplex from Stryke!

 

Riley: That was such a flawed German! I mean, the execution, the timing... all of it off! Cutthroat did better German suplex than this idiot!

 

Stryke, though, rolls himself and Mike over, waist locked still locked in as he rises to his feet, pulling The Nightmare with him, and throws Craven back, slamming him onto his back and neck again with another German suplex! Yet before any comments can be made, Stryke repeats this all again: the pull up, the lift into the air, and the slam on the back to a crowd pop for a third German suplex, excpet he holds on this time, bridging into a pin!

 

Stevens: Pinfall attempt from Stryke! Is it enough?

 

One!

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

 

Kickout by Craven! The waist lock breaks, much to the dismay of the energized crowd, and both competitors slowly begin to get to their feet.

 

Stevens: Two-count for Stryke following a series of German suplex to Michael Craven!

 

Riley: Slow count by the ref! Dammit, Timmy Thompson! Count correctly!

 

As Stryke gets to his feet, he notices a steel chair lying in the ring, used earlier to smash his face in. He smiles as he grabs it, and as the two men rise to their feet, Stryke quickly whips it around, slamming it into Mike’s face with a “CLANK!” Craven collapses to the mat as Stryke discards the chair, covering Craven for an attempted pin!

 

One!

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

 

Craven kicks out at two and a half! The crowd cheers, though Stryke feels as if Referee Timmy Thompson made a slow count.

 

Stevens: Close call for Michael Craven as Stryke get a two and a half count!

 

Riley: He had a forearm across Craven’s arm while he pinned him so he couldn’t kick out!

 

Stevens: If he did, it wasn’t intentional...

 

Riley: But still, that’s an infraction! It’s BLATANT CHEATING, Mark. I haven’t seen this much cheating since the Suicide King incident of 2001!!!!

 

Stevens: Why do you only seem to pick out these kind of things on fan favorites and “good guys”, like you’ve done with Magnifico, Ash Ketchum, Edwin, etc.?

 

Riley: Hey, I’m fair to both sides. If Chris Wilson was holding Edwin’s tights while he pinned him, I’d condemn it!

 

Stevens: Yeah right.

 

Stryke grunts as he pulls Michael Craven to his feet. Grabbing hold of the waistband of Mike’s pants, Stryke runs for the ropes, clutching a bent-over Mike as he throws him through the second and top ropes to the outside, but Craven counters and sends Stryke flying through the ropes to the outside! “THUD!” Stryke lands hard on the padding after doing a few not-so-acrobatic twists through the air, grabbing his back and screaming in pain. Mike backs up and just waits for a second, for Stryke to collect himself on the steel railing surrounding the ring, and when Stryke slowly gets almost up onto his feet, he runs at him, leaping over the top rope as he flies at Stryke, throwing his body into the air. He comes crashing down on Stryke, but the Aussie catches him in mid-air in a waist lock, and as he falls back, throws Mike into the air into an overhead release belly-to-belly suplex! Craven flies into the crowd as they run for cover, and he slams hard into the concrete floor of the arena on his back, grabbing it and screaming in pain.

 

Stevens: WHAT A MOVE! CRAVEN’S MOMENTUM IS USED BY STRYKE TO LAUNCH HIM INTO THE CROWD! WHAT A MOVE! WHAT... A... MOVE!!!!

 

As Stryke gets up at ringside, he forces Funyon and the timekeeper out of their chairs, clutching one folded-up chair in either hand as he steps over the railing, headed for Michael Craven. He leap over the railing as Craven gets to his feet. Craven watches as Stryke opens his arms up, preparing to nail Mike with a one-man conchairto, but as he charges at Mike and swings the chairs closed... “CLANK!” They slam together, nothing in between! Mike Craven has ducked the move, the chairs buzzing inches over his head, a small, but important mistake on Stryke’s part.

 

Riley: Bah! What was that? That’s softcore.

 

Stevens: Mike nearly gets his head taken off... and that’s SOFTCORE?

 

Riley: Yeah... where are my C4 explosives and barbed-wire ropes?

 

Stevens: Bobby... you watch WAY too much puro, my friend... WAY too much...

 

Quickly, Stryke turns around to nail Mike again, opening his arms up, but Craven is gone! Stryke looks around in desperation, searching for Craven as the crowd cheers, but he can’t find Craven. Suddenly, he hears a cry, and out of the crowd charges Michael Craven, collecting Stryke on his shoulder and slamming him into the barrier surrounding the ring with a huge spear!

 

Stevens: SHIT! WHAT A SPEAR!!!! The Sonic Boom has rattled both men!

 

Riley: Nice touch using the crowd as a cover. A bit of a heel tactic, if you ask me. And a bit cheap, too. He should fight like a man!

 

Following the spear, Craven slowly gets to his feet, hopping over the railing and sliding into the ring as he waits for Stryke. Stryke grabs his ribs as he slowly flips over the barrier, then struggles to get to his feet before he slides into the ring. As Stryke gets up after the move, Craven knees Stryke in the gut, forcing him to bend over. Stepping back, Mike takes a step forward, swinging his right leg up and down, then doing the same with his left. It is the left one that hits Stryke in the back of the head and forces him down the the mat, victim of a savage scissors kick, the Air Craven Deux! Stryke collapses to the mat, and Craven quickly flips him over with his foot, dropping on top to cover him for a pinning attempt!

 

One!

 

 

Two!

 

 

Kickout by Stryke! Upon kicking out, Stryke knocks Craven into the air and slams him onto his back. Craven grabs his back and cries in pain as Stryke struggles to get up.

 

Stevens: Two count for Craven with the scissors kick!

 

Riley: I can’t believe he can’t keep Stryke down! This is really embarrassing for Mike Craven! His cheeks are flush red from the embarrassment!

 

Stevens: No they’re not! He’s exhausted! That’s why!

 

Riley: Sure... that’s what they want you to believe...

 

As Stryke gets to his feet slowly, he grabs another, different steel chair as Craven grabs his back in pain and cries as if he was a two-year-old getting a booster shot. Stryke turns around, throwing the chair at Craven, who catches it and it immediately hit by an upward-thrusting leg, impacting with the chair and eventually Craven’s chin, nailing Mike with a superkick that sends him tumbling to the mat!

 

Riley: That, my friend, is the devastating HEATSEEKER! No one kicks out of it!

 

Following the kick and crowd pop, Stryke drops on top of Craven, covering him for a pin attempt!

 

One!

 

Two!

 

THR-NO! Craven kicks out! Craven gets to his feet, grabbing Stryke and pulling him up quickly, but as he does, Stryke attempts to hit him with a right hook. Craven, though, ducks the punch and slides behind him, locking both arms behind him in a full nelson as he lifts him into the air. Once they reach the apex, Mike pushes down forward and releases the hold, dropping Stryke down with great force chest first into the mat!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

“THUUUUUDDDDDD!!!”

 

 

 

 

Stevens: FULL NELSON FRONT SLAM!!!! WHAT A MOVE!!!

 

Stryke screams out in pain as him ribs meet canvas, and the sheer force of the move bounces him onto his back, where he lies on the mat as Craven stands over him. Eventually, Stryke’s motions die down after a second and he goes temporarily expressionless as a result of the move.

 

Riley: It’s called the Red Fusion, stupid, and it’s knocked Stryke onto the mat and flipped him onto his back! Amazing counter!!! Right onto the chest! BAM! Look at the expression on Stryke’s face! There is none... because he’s out like a rock!

 

Instead of pinning Stryke, though, Craven goes to work, grabbing the two ladders from before and setting them up right next to each other. He then calls for a table, and his manager slides him one under the ring. Clutching it, he goes to the ladder and begins to climb up it slowly. Once he gets to the top, he slides the table across the top, bridging the two ladders together and creating:

 

Stevens: HE’S CREATED A SECOND SCAFFOLD WITH THE LADDERS AND A TABLE!!! AMAZING!!!!!!

 

Stryke rolls onto his back as Craven pulls himself onto the scaffold. He stands up on the sketchy ladder structure and notes Noting the position of Stryke near the ropes. He’s got a one-in-a-million shot here of pulling this off. He’d better take it.

 

Stevens: We might see Ash go for the Five-Star Frog Splash here! It’s an awesome move to see!

 

Riley: Meh... probably a double axe handle.

 

Mike slowly steadies himself, pumps a fist in the air, and to a huge pop, then leaps off, contracting and extending his arms out as he flies through the air, hoping for the fore-mentioned five-star frog splash, but Stryke rolls out of the way and Mike slams his throat across the rope, falling backwards as he clutches his throat. Stryke slowly, very slowly rolls on top of him, though, covering him! This might be it! The ref drops down very slowly and begins a slow count:

 

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CRAVEN KICKS OUT AT THE LAST SECOND!!!! The crowd sighs in disbelief and boos at the referee, thinking his slow count cost Stryke the title. Stryke rolls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling as he thinks to himself: “WHY ME?”

 

Stevens: This match has been nothing more than amazing! Both men have thrown themselves on the line for just a 10-ounce strap of gold!!!

 

Riley: But those 10-ounces say” HEY! Look at me! I’m champ!” Who wouldn’t want to wear a title?

 

Slowly, the two men get to their feet, each grabbing a rung on opposite ladders as they climb up to the top of the scaffold. Rung by rung they go, Stryke and Michael Craven climbing up to the top as the crowd cheers loudly, hoping one

 

Stevens: This might be it!

 

Riley: You’ve already said that five times. I don’t believe you anymore.

 

As both men reach the top of the scaffold, Stryke makes a horrible mistake. He leaps into the air, thrusting his legs out and nailing Craven with a dropkick that sends him tumbling off the ladder and to the mat below. Stryke, though, did not compensate for himself, and as he comes down, he smashes his ribs on the top of the ladder he climbed, falling off it as he screams in pain before he, too, slams into the mat with an amazing “THUD!”

 

Riley: HOLY SHIT!

 

Stevens: Craven is down! Stryke is down! A mistake by Stryke could have cost him the match!

 

Riley: He deserves it! He’s been trying to cheat all match!!! Illegal elbows, refusing to obey the ref’s orders and decisions-

 

Stevens: Bobby, please. You’ve been trying to get Stryke eliminated since this match started!

 

Riley: I’m just trying to be fair. The guy’s cheating like Suicide King or Tom Flesher, and you don’t want me to spot it?

 

Stevens: And what about Craven? Has he been “cheating”, too?

 

Riley: Hasn’t done a damn thing wrong except that illegal shot to the balls.

 

Stevens: I don’t remember an illegal low blow! All low blows are legal in this match, regardless!

 

Riley: I saw it. Man, those balls jiggled like-

 

Stevens: Please don’t elaborate on that, Bobby...

 

As both men lie on the mat, they notice a set of chairs still lying in the ring that have both been used. They slowly crawl towards them, Craven clutching his back as Stryke grabs his ribs. Both seem to be in large amounts of pain as they move slowly towards the chairs. One half of the crowd chants for Craven, the other half for Stryke as they reach out for the steel chairs.

 

Stevens: Both me going for, and wait, they now both have the chairs! What a turn of events!

 

Riley: They’re still crawling around, Mark. they haven’t actually USED the chairs yet. Keep your pants on, JR.

 

Stevens: What was that supposed to mean?

 

Riley: You know full well what it was supposed to mean, Jim-uhhh-Mark.

 

Both men now have the chairs and are slowly getting to their feet following the long commentary from Bobby and Mark. Stryke staggers towards the ladder, grabbing hold of a rung and slowly pulling himself onto the ladder. Craven notes this and follows suit, not to be outdone by the Aussie. The Aussie slowly plods up the ladder, the chair under his arm as he climbs up the ladder towards the scaffolding. Craven, too, climbs with the chair under his arm, and he reaches the top first, throwing the chair onto the makeshift scaffold, but he pauses to take a breather as Stryke finally reaches the top, exhausted but relentless. He climbs onto the top of the ladder and pulls himself up onto the scaffold, which begins to shake. The crowd lets out an “Oooooooooooooooooh!” as the scaffold shakes while Craven gets up onto it. Craven, unfortunately, knocks his chair off from the scaffolding, and as it hits with a “CLANK!” below, the crowd loses faith in the prospect of Craven retaining.

 

Riley: Ha! He just dropped the chair! It’s over!

 

As Craven looks up, Stryke stands over him, lifting a steel chair above his head. He quickly swings it down...

 

 

But Craven catches it in mid-swing! The two men hold onto the chair, bitterly struggling over it, but eventually Craven rips the chair from Stryke’s hands! The tables turn as Craven prepares to swing the chair, but Stryke catches it in mid-swing, rips it from Craven’s hands, and-

 

 

 

“CLANK!”

 

 

Slams the Hardcore Champ in the head with a devastating chair shot! The Hardcore Champ falls forward onto the table, which by the way, STILL HAS NOT BROKEN IN TWO, and Stryke hoists the chair into the air, resulting in a massive pop from the crowd!

 

Riley: He’s got the chair back!

 

Stevens: Stryke’s got the chair! He’s gonna destroy Craven’s career!

 

Riley: He can’t do this! He’ll throw the scaffold off balance, and the two of them will fly off into the audience and kill some innocent child! Oh, the horror! I can’t watch!

 

Stryke clutches the chair with both hands and swings it down, and as it swings down...

 

 

Riley: Game over!

 

 

“CLANK!”

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

CRAVEN THROWS HIS LEGS INTO THE PATH OF THE CHAIR SHOT! The chair bounces off Craven’s feet and flies back into Stryke’s face, knocking him off his feet! Craven gets to his feet and stops Stryke from breaking the table with his fall, but in return, he positions Stryke across the table so his chest is in the middle and his weight distributed evenly. Then... Craven backs off and begins to climb DOWN the ladder!

 

Stevens: What the hell is he doing?

 

Riley: He’s being a coward, that’s what!

 

About halfway down, charged with one final burst of energy, he jumps off, then staggers towards...

 

 

 

 

 

The big 20-foot ladder.

 

Stevens: HOLY SHIT, THAT’S THE BIG 20-FOOTER!!!

 

Riley: Like my penis!

 

Stevens: Bobby, shut up.

 

He grabs it to a major pop from the crowd, moving back towards the makeshift scaffold, and once there, he slowly unfolds the ladder, placing it on all four legs and perpendicular to the scaffold. Stryke is still motionless on the scaffold as Craven grabs a rung on the large ladder and begins to climb up it.

 

Stevens: GOOD GOD! HE’S GOING TO THE TOP!

 

Riley: He’s gonna jump off and commit suicide! A genius idea! Too bad he can only do it once!

 

Stevens: What a selfish comment! Michael Craven has a wife and a soon to be born child! How can you say that, you... you...

 

Riley: Heartless asshole?

 

Stevens: YES!

 

Riley: Easily. And I’ll say it again... He’s gonna jump off and commit suicide! A genius idea! Too bad he can only do it once!

 

The crowd cheers loudly as Craven climbs up to the top of the ladder and stands to his full height. Looking down he sees Stryke lying on the scaffold, and perched on the top of the ladder, he prepares to end this. He makes a cross on his chest and says a quick prayer. Everyone knows what comes next.

 

Stevens: He's going for the "Poke Ball GO!". One of the craziest aerial moves in the history of the SWF! If he lands a Shooting Star Knee Drop onto Stryke's ribs, it's over, period, end of story-

 

Riley: Thank God!

 

Stevens: But... but this is crazy! FROM 20 FEET UP ONTO A SCAFFOLD 10 FEET ABOVE THE GROUND! THIS IS INSANE!!

 

Riley: Told ya. Michael Craven is totally insane and needs to be institutionalized!

 

Stevens: No he doesn’t! He’s going for broke here, and if he misses this, it’s over, ladies and gentlemen!

 

Taking an extra second to balance himself, Craven looks down at Stryke, then without delay, leaps high off the top rope. He flips forward, flipping 90 degrees, his body arching almost as if he was high jumping, but as he rotates the next 270 degrees, he whips his legs around, tucking them close to his body as he smashes into Stryke with tremendous force, nailing a Shooting Star Knee Drop into Stryke’s ribs! Upon impact, the sturdy table shatters with a deafening “CRUNCH!” and the two men fall ten feet to the mat below! A gigantic “THUD!” signals the end of the fall, and Craven collapses forward in pain onto Stryke as he uses the last of his energy. Referee Timmy Thompson checks the condition of both athletes as Craven cries in pain. Seeing that Craven is still alive on top of Stryke, he starts to count....

 

 

 

Stevens: OH MY DEAR GOD!!! OH MY DEAR GOD!!!! THAT HAS GOT TO BE IT!!! THAT HAS GOT TO BE IT!!!!

 

Riley: I DON’T BELIEVE IT! THE HEIGHT! THE DESTRUCTION! AMAZING! EVERYTHING’S BEING THROWN ON THE LINE HERE!

 

Craven’s body lays on top of Stryke’s as part of the crowd begins to boo while the rest cheer, Timmy Thompson dropping to the mat to make the count...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!!!!

 

 

DING DING DING! “Cochise” fires up as Craven rolls off of Stryke, Funyon bringing the mic to his lips and proclaiming...

 

Funyon: Your winner and STILL SWF HARDCORE CHAMPION... MICHAEL CRAAAAAAAAAAAVEN!!!!

 

Stevens: What a start to the PPV!!!!!

 

Craven clutches his back as he points to himself, mouthing that “he’s the greatest champ ever” to all the fans. Stryke lies out on the mat as EMTs rush out, Stryke not moving much as Craven collapses to the mat, unable to celebrate any more. His back is throbbing in pain as the ref checks on him, but Craven can barely respond because of the pain.

 

Steven: Craven’s back looks to be injured-

 

Riley: That’s the price you pay for victory! The bitch got his-

 

Stevens: Oh please. The man throws himself off a ladder, through a table, a guy, and to the mat, and you say “The bitch got his!”? He certainly did, because his sacrifice allowed him to retain his title!

 

Riley: First, it’s the intros... then you. What I want, Mark, is to finish a fuckin’ sentence! I swear, one more time, and-

 

Stevens: But next, we’ve got more action, including our main event, El Luchador Magnifico and the dastardly Tom Flesher in a battle for the SWF World Title! Stay tuned!

 

Riley: You’re despicable...

[Guest BA_Baracus]

“Don’t Drag Me Down” by Social Distortion dies down as we return from one a Best of the Midnight Carnival DVD vignette to the screaming crowd in the packed MCI Center as we return to SWF Holds Down Santa! A camera pan across the arena reveals the throngs of fans who have showed up from across the Eastern Seaboard. One sign in the crowd reads “Have yourself a Magnificent Little Christmas”, while across the arena reads another saying “Feliz Navidad ELM!”. A few fans in the back from Buffalo have signs saying “There won’t be a foot in the crease to screw Tom tonight!”, and “FINISH HIM!” signs from the Kibagami fans. But by FAR the most notable fans are the ones in the back holding up signs saying “I hope Santa delivers some injuries!”, “Let’s watch Zenon bleed!”, and the ever-popular “Leclair > Gretzky, you stupid Canuck!”. As the camera comes back to them, they start up yet another “We want blood!” chant, and Stevens looks back up at them to make a comment.

 

“Must be Mak Francis fans…”

 

“How the hell did you come up with that, Sherlock?”

 

“Only Philly fans have such a twisted sense of sportsmanship and deluded sense of greatness… But anyways, welcome back to SWF Holds Down Santa! Just now we got to see Michael Craven, Ced Ordonez, and Stryke battle it out in one brutal match for the Hardcore Title. All three of them deserve praise for their efforts…”

 

“You always thank the losers, Stevens. I wonder why… oh yeah, you’re part of the Midnight Carnival. Gotta act nice to your own kind.”

 

“This coming from the man who has lost the SWF Cook-off to moi…” says Mark with a smirk, and Riley explodes.

 

“BIASED JUDGING! BIASED JUDGING! Of course that prick NTD wouldn’t pick the guy who took his job. And that was the best sum yung guy I ever had…” Stevens shudders at that one, but goes on.

 

“Well, we are now up to the submissions match between Judge Mental and Sigil. Each man has only met once, but the disqualification ending left a little to be desired on both sides. The Judge lacks a clean win in the SWF, and I’m sure he’ll be shooting for one tonight. But-”

 

“BUT,” Interrupts Riley, “He’s fighting Sigil. While a submission match goes in the Judge’s good favor, Sigil is a real powerhouse. In their last meeting, the Judge was only able to get him on the ground twice, and both submissions that he put in did nothing. Even looking back at the match between him and Annie Eclectic, Sigil refused to tap to the . Another point: The Judge tapped to the Shroud last time-”

 

“Bobbie, it was after the Judge had reached ropes. The hold should have been broken.”

 

“The hold should have been broken, the hold should have been broken…” says Riley in his best goody-goody Mark Stevens impression, “Mark, that’s not an excuse to tap. Tom Flesher never tapped, so I don’t see why Judge Mental should be able to.”

 

“Bobbie, that comparison doesn’t make any sense.”

 

“Or does it make complete sense? Honestly, Mark, you don’t see the forest though the lumberjacks…”

 

“Um….” Says a confused ‘Grand Slam’, giving Bobbie a cock-eyed look, but before he can respond, a steady drumbeat begins to play. At first, it’s whisper quiet, but it begins to build in intensity, and the arena turns a deep red. It gets to deafening levels, and the drum does a little add lib before nailing the cymbal, triggering a moment of silence before…

 

“NOW TESTIFY!!”

 

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

 

“Now entering the ring, hailing from Royal Oak and weighing in at 250 pounds, all rise for…… JUDGE MENTAL!”

 

Three rows of red pyros shoot sky high as Rage Against the Machine’s “Testify” strikes up in mid song, and the SmarkTron flashes the words “JUDGE MENTAL”and “MAGNIFICENT 7” between highlighted clips of the man’s career. As the pyros die down, the newest acquisition of the SWF’s Magnificent 7, Judge Mental, steps out onto the stage and begins his trek down the ramp. His black judicial robe looks perfect as he solemnly walks out to the ring, ignoring the crowd’s booing. He slides into the ring, where he takes off his robe and lays it on the steel steps before he starts stretching out.

 

“You have to wonder what’s going through his mind right now, Bobbie. I think the Judge really has something to prove here: He hasn’t gotten one clean victory in the SWF, and another loss here might be detrimental to his Magnificent 7 membership.”

 

“This is one of the few times I’m gonna agree with you, Mark. If tonight isn’t a victory, Mental could be on his way to being the Johnny Rotten of the Magnificent 7.”

 

The Judge takes a few deep breaths as he grabs the ropes on either side of his corner. You can tell that the normally cool man is a little nervous. He says a few things softly to himself, perhaps a small prayer or just going over his strategy for the match, but the ring mics fail to pick it up.

 

DONG!

 

The lights go down a little, and a haunting orchestral score can barely be made out….

 

DONG!

 

Again, the lights dim, and the score becomes ever so slightly louder…

 

DONG!

 

A final bell toll sounds, and the music slowly fades out from whence it came. Some of the crowd give some worried chatter while the rest of them wait for….

 

 

 

 

 

 

BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM!

 

White pyrotechnics shoot across the stage in the darkness, lighting the arena up like a nighttime firefight. “Halo” by Soil begins playing through the pyro-lit darkness, and as the awesome light display comes to an end, the house lights come up. Onstage stands the Voice, the Revolution, the Endbringer, and Sigil slowly strides down the entrance ramp. The massive man stares ahead at the ring, his face barely visible under the hood. The crowd heaps jeers down onto him, but he doesn’t even note their existence as he steps methodically into the ring.

 

“Well, that’s what Mental has to beat, and I don’t think he can do it.” Remarks Riley, looking at the hulking giant standing in his corner, gazing with his joyless brown eyes at the Judge, “I mean, Sigil has dominated everyone he has come across, even Judge Mental last time. I don’t think the situation is any different, and I see another squash for tonight.”

 

Mental takes another deep breath, closing his eyes and clenching his fist as he keeps his nerves down. He exhales, opening his eyes and-

 

BAM!

 

A fist nails him right across the cheek!

 

“Sigil comes out swinging, nailing Mental across the face before the bell!” says Stevens, and the ref quickly motions for the bell to start the match.

 

*DING DING DING*

 

Sigil winds up and nails another one right across the face of his aged opponent, and Mental stumbles out of the turnbuckle. Like an unrelenting storm, the Voice follows him, cocking his arm back and thrusting it forward for another punch, but the Judge is able to duck it and turn it into an arm drag, tossing him to the ground. Sigil slams to the mat but begins to roll over, and Judge Mental backs off, regaining his bearings as he takes up his traditional grappler stance.

 

“A quick flurry of punches from Sigil, but Judge Mental is able to arm drag Sigil to the ground.”

 

Sigil gets up to his feet, looking over at the Judge, and stands to full height. Both men stare at each other, and slowly Mental begins to come forwards toward Sigil. He comes closer, and they both lock up in a tie up. Using his strength and size to his advantage Sigil begins to push Mental backwards with his power, and the Judge strains to try and stop him. But Sigil continues forth, and is able to put a headlock onto the veteran, and he quickly begins wrenching it hard. The Judge tries to pry off the Voice’s arm, but it only causes him to wrench Mental’s head further, bringing the Judge down to one knee.

 

“Damn, Sigil is using all his power to bring Mental to his knees with that headlock!”

 

“Tap out, Mental, tap out!”

 

“… Bobbie, it’s only 20 seconds into the match.”

 

The Judge gets back up to his feet, and begins stepping back towards the ropes, but after taking a few steps he is pulled to one knee again by the Voice. He gets back up, and walks backwards again, and is able to get to the ropes! He leans back, and uses the ropes to help throw the headlock and Sigil off him, and the massive man takes off running for the other side of the ring. He bounces off the ropes, and comes back towards Mental on the return trip, and the Judge takes him to the ground with a Fujiwara Armbar! He rolls onto Sigil’s back as he locks in the nasty Armbar…. And he lets it go, rolling across Sigil’s back….

 

“A beautiful Fujiwara Armbar, and it looks like the Judge is trying to transition it into something…”

 

…. And catches his right arm around Sigil’s neck as he turns over, putting on a Dragon Sleeper! He straddles and pulls back, trying to choke out the large man, and Sigil tries to pull the Judge’s arm off his neck. Mental grits his teeth as he fiercely applies the hold, wringing it around as he tries to take the breath right out of the monster.

 

“Judge Mental puts a dragon sleeper on Sigil! Considering Sigil has never tapped, a chokeout maybe the way to go.”

 

“Well, a normal dragon sleeper won’t suffice, Mark. To choke Sigil out, it’d have to be a dragon sleeper…. Through a table!”

 

“Through a table?”

 

“Yes. Everything is better through a table.”

 

Mental tries to hold onto the sleeper, but the Voice’s strength begins to show as he slowly begins to pull the Judge’s arm away from his throat. The veteran tries hard to maintain his hold on the downed Sigil, and it begins to shake as he strains to keep it up. Looking at the situation, the Judge releases the hold and rolls away, allowing both men to get to their feet.

 

“Sigil literally powers out of the Dragon Sleeper, but it looks like Judge Mental is at the top of his game tonight.”

 

The Voice gazes at Mental like he normally does, and the Judge just looks back from his hunched over grapplers stance. Again, both of them wait, and Sigil is the first to make his move, come at the Judge with his arm extended for a clothesline. The Judge readies himself, and as the arm comes to him he grabs it and begins to pull Sigil down for another Fujiwara Armbar…..

 

 

 

 

…. But this time, Sigil knows what to expect, and the big man is able to spin out of the takedown. Before the Judge can react, the Voice pulls him back around and gives him a massive clothesline to the ground, sparking a few “Oooh”s from the crowd. With the Judge grounded, Sigil begins laying boots to Mental’s head and face, and the Magnificent 7 member rolls to the outside of the ring, taking kicks and stomps all the way out.

 

The Judge rolls out onto the mats, and the predator follows his prey to the outside of the ring, and Sigil quickly falls upon Mental with a stiff elbow to the back, stopping him right in his tracks. The hulking behemoth gets back up and pulls Mental up one handed as Matty Kivell begins to make his count.

 

ONE!

 

Sigil stands the dazed Judge up quickly, and gives him a condescending backhanded smack across the face that sends Mental reeling backwards….

 

TWO!

 

But the Voice doesn’t hesitate to press the attack as the veteran stumbles backwards, giving him a massive hook that puts him right into the guardrail…

 

THREE!

 

And the wobbly barrier doesn’t do much to help the Judge, tipping over as he flails to the ground, courtesy of a Hardway punch right to the nose…

 

FOUR!

 

Sigil begins to pull him up again, but the Judge, most likely out of instinct rather than actual thought, takes the Voice’s arm and torque it back for a hammerlock…

 

FIVE!

 

He quickly wraps his arm around the face of Sigil and cinches an inverted front facelock, and snaps himself downward for a reverse DDT! Sigil doesn’t move as the Judge slowly gets to his feet and makes his way to the ring….

 

SIX!

 

As Mental walks over to the ring and slides in, the Voice begins to get off the ground, and the Judge stands up …

 

SEVEN!

 

And the monstrous Sigil begins to slide into the ring… but Mental takes no chance with the monstrous man as he immediately begins laying boot heels on the big man. The Voice buckles a little, still trying to get up to his feet despite the kicking, but the Judge gives him a ruthless kick to the neck, and Sigil falls flat to the mat.

 

“That’s what we need, Judge!” yells Riley as Mental begins locking in a sleeper hold on Sigil, “Excessive brutality! We haven’t seen any of that since he went off on Johnny Dangerous.”

 

“Well, I have to agree, it did get Sigil to the ground.”

 

Mental sits Sigil up and wraps his arms around the massive neck of the man in a sleeper hold, and puts a body scissors on to complete the choke hold. As the Judge begins tightening his grip, Sigil begins to struggle about, trying to get air to his lungs. He pulls at the Judge’s arms, but Mental arches his back to put more pressure on Sigil’s neck. Thankfully for Sigil, the Judge made the mistake of going for the kill immediately rather than pulling him farther away from the ropes. The Voice immediately grabs the bottom one and Kivell begins telling the Judge to release the hold.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

FOU- And the Judge lets go, rolling away and getting back up to his feet.

 

“Well, a nice try for a chokeout by Judge Mental, but he didn’t move Sigil far enough from the ropes to make it effective.”

 

Sigil shakily rises to his feet and Mental immediately seizes the advantage as he rushes back in for a tie up. He shoves his head under the Voice’s arm and begins to lift him up for a Northern Lights Suplex…. But Sigil sandbags as he shifts his weight downwards out of habit, and Mental only gets him a few inches off the ground. Before he can try again, Sigil clenches down on the head of the Judge and drives it to the mat with a hard DDT! The ring shakes a little after the impact of both men on the mat, and the Judge is left down on the ground holding his head as the Voice stands up over top of him.

 

The Judge immediately attempts to get away, but Sigil stamps foot down on his back, stopping him right where he is. He takes his foot off his back and gives quick kick to Mental’s head, making the Judge’s body go a little limp. He wrenches him up by his neck in one stiff motion, and pulls the older man right up to his face. Grimacing under the pain and lack of breath, he looks right at Sigil’s eyes….

 

 

 

Those cold, merciless brown eyes.

 

 

 

 

And for once in his career, Judge Mental is afraid of the man he is in the ring with.

 

 

Before he can do anything Sigil heaves him over into the nearest turnbuckle, and the old man arches his back in pain from the impact, and he begins to stumble out. He gets only a few steps before the Voice nails him right in the nose with a Hardway punch, and his fist comes back with some blood as the Judge’s nose begins to trickle blood down his lip. As he falls back into the turnbuckle, Sigil begins pummeling him with lefts and rights as the ref makes the count to let the veteran out of the corner.

 

ONE!

 

Right hook, Left Hook…

 

TWO!

 

Left Hook, right jab, right jab…

 

THREE!

 

Left Hook, right hook, left jab…

 

FOUR!

 

One final right hook, and Sigil pulls Mental out and down to the mat, and the crowd gives a sympathetic “Oooh…” as Mental’s face, blood covering his lower lip and streaking down his chin, falls flat on the mat.

 

“It’s a repeat of last time, Stevens,” Remarks Riley flippantly, watching the brutal hulk grab Mental by his arm and jerk him up to his feet. “This match is over. Bring on Danny and that flip girl.”

 

Sigil swings the smaller man around, whipping him at the ropes and running at the ropes behind him to build up speed. Both of them hit the ropes at the same time, and Sigil winds up his arm for a massive lariat…

 

 

 

 

…. That the Judge ducks! Both men hit the ropes again, and this time Mental grabs the Voice and gives him a stiff knee to the stomach. The big man doubles over, and the Judge locks in a ¾ headlock on and leaps out….

 

 

THUNK!

 

“SURPRISE WITNESS!” Stevens says as the crowd gives a few cheers for seeing a finisher, “The Judge just bought himself some valuable recovery time.”

 

“Well, at least it wasn’t a TOTAL squash.”

 

Mental rolls away a few feet and lies face down on the mat, as does the fallen giant. Both lie still, save for their chests moving up and down as they both take in heavy breaths. After a few moments, the Judge pushes his head off the ground with his arms, and he slowly gets to one knee. His head bobs back and forth as he begins to stand, and it’s obvious to even the untrained eye that he hasn’t full recovered his wits from the beating Sigil has given him. He backs up towards the ropes and wraps his arms around them as he catches his breath. The Judge doesn’t get much, as the Voice slowly begins to move again, and he starts to lift himself off the ground.

 

Mental looks at him, and closes his eyes. He thinks of everything that’s at stake here: This isn’t just about him getting revenge for Mercury, it’s much more now. His bump, his acceptance into the Magnificent 7, his hype, Tom’s expectations of him, Ejiro’s expectations of him, his own expectations, everything that matters to him is on the line. He needs this victory to validate it all. He needs it more than anything else. Mental opens his eyes again, and he gives scowl full of absolute hatred for the man who is getting up off the mat.

 

“Well, Mental looks ready for Sigil now,” Says Mark, watching the Judge get off the ropes and go over to the rising Voice and nail him with a knee to the stomach. He wraps his arm around Sigil’s head and hesitates a second before snapping backwards, bringing Sigil over top of him in one lightning fast motion. The Voice lands hard on his back, and the Judge immediately rolls over and wraps his arm around Sigil’s neck again for another Dragon Sleeper! The Voice struggles, pulling on Mental’s arm hard, but the Judge refuses to give up on the hold, tightening it around Sigil’s neck even more. The Voice’s struggling begins to die down, and his eyes slowly close. Matty Kivell looks at Sigil’s unmoving body for moment, and begins to lift his arm up.

 

“Did he actually do it, Bobbie? Did he choke him out?” asks Stevens as Kivell drops Sigil’s arm and it falls down limp.

 

“I can’t believe it, but I think he may have done it, Mark.” Responds Bobbie as Kivell brings the arm up again and lets it go…. And it falls limp.

 

“Well, I didn’t think he could do it, but-” ‘Grand Slam’ begins, but he cuts himself off as Matty Kivell brings the arm up for a final time and lets go…. And it stays out as straight as a board. The entire crowd gives a gasp as the large man begins to stir again, and the Judge tries to wrench the hold some more. The Voice begins to pull the arm again, using all his strength this time, and once again Mental’s arm shakes under the strain. With one mighty pull, Sigil pulls the hold off him again, and the Judge rolls away before the Voice can get a hand on him.

 

“The Judge nearly had it with the second Dragon Sleeper, but Sigil just refuses to stay down.”

 

Sigil slowly begins to get up again, holding his neck and some audible huffing coming from his mouth covering. The Judge is a bit stunned, but he charges right back at the Voice, giving him a hard chop right to the neck. He takes a step back, and the Judge nails him with another chop to the neck. Again, Sigil steps back, but this time he responds with a punch of his own, which knocks Mental right to the ground. The Judge scrambles to his feet, but Sigil runs at him and leaps into the air, grounding the veteran to the mat with a huge Lou Thesz press!

 

Sigil gets off top of the fallen Magnificent 7 member and begins maneuvering around to the back of his head, wrapping his arms around the jaw of Mental and locking in the Shroud! The Judge struggles as the massive man begins to pull hard up against his chin, pulling it like he was trying to tear his head off.

 

“This is it! Sigil has the Shroud on! It’s over!” cries Riley, and the Voice continues to pull as the Judge kicks his legs furiously.

 

Mental’s eyes are wide as saucers as the pain begins to become unbearable. His hands pull at Sigil’s grip, but they don’t seem to do anything. Then Mental begins to think. He think about what the Magnificent 7 has given him: Friends. Stability. A home. Meaning. Control. He begins to rise up, trying to gain a footing to stand, but the Voice puts a knee into his back, putting him back to the ground. Mental thinks of all the failures he’s had recently: Losing the World Title to Johnny Dangerous. Losing the World Title to Matt Myers. Failing to get one clean win in the SWF at all. Again, the old man tries to rise, nearly getting to his knees this time, but Sigil is able to put him back to the ground with a knee again.

 

“Mental is actually trying to stand up!” Says an amazed Mark Stevens. “He’s refusing to give in!”

 

More things enter his mind. So many people he has to live up to. Tom. Ejiro. Mercury. Fugue. Himself. He begins to rise one more time, but Sigil can’t keep him down this time. The Voice begins to stand as well as the Judge rises up to his feet, his face filled with intensity. He pulls at the hands around his chin and throat, going all out. It’s all or nothing. All or nothing.

 

“How in God’s name is he up?! Sigil beat the hell out of him!”

 

The Judge pulls harder, harder…… harder

 

 

 

 

 

 

And Sigil’s fly right off him, causing the giant man to stumble backwards as the Judge takes a few steps forwards. He spins around, instinctually, and gives a roar as he gives a superkick to the forehead of Sigil that would make Shawn Michaels say “Holy Sweet Jesus!” The Voice falls to the ground with a massive thud, and the Judge looks down at him for a moment. The big man doesn’t move at all, and the Judge goes down to his head, locking his legs around his neck and pulls back on his outstretched arms. Sigil comes back to life a little, weakly trying to get the Triangle Choke Hold off, but the Judge locks his legs even tighter. After a few more moments, Sigil goes motionless, and Matt Kivell comes over to do the hand drop.

 

He lifts it once…. And it falls down limp.

 

 

He lifts it twice…. And it falls down limp.

 

 

He lifts it a third time…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And it fall right to the ground.

 

*DING DING DING*

 

“Your winner, by chokeout…. Judge Mental!”

 

The Judge releases the hold and slides out of the ring, wiping some of the blood from his chin. He quickly grabs his robe and throws it over the shoulder as he slowly walks up the entrance ramp. No beatdown, no ears being torn off, nothing. The Judge and the Magnificent 7 are now done with Sigil; revenge is exacted and that is that. As the Judge walks out, he doesn’t shoot a glance back at his fallen foe, but just silently walking out of the arena.

 

“Well, it looks like the Judge finally got that win he needed…” Remarks Mark Stevens, and Riley puts in his two cents as well.

 

“Yeah, I’m just glad the Magnificent 7 still doesn’t have any failures to it’s name, unlike the Midnight Carnival *Cough*SparkRottenZ*Cough*.”

 

“Oh, just shut up. Anyways, we’ll be back soon with Annie Eclectic and Danny Williams in a No DQ for the US title after a short break!”

[Guest BA_Baracus]

We return to the jam packed, state of the art, MCI Center, after the three hundredth Clusterfuck commercial of the night. The crowd is still rowdy and hot from the Sigil/Judge Mental submission match, O.K. they are actually bored out of their minds and growing more and more impatient by the minute. A split screen appears on the Smarktron, prompting the crowd to make some noise. On one side is Danny Williams in the comfort of his locker room, seated on a bench. His head is down and his eyes are closed, giving him the appearance of praying or meditating. On the other side is Annie Eclectic’s dressing room, she is busy throwing practice swings with her Kendo Sword.

 

Stevens: Fans, we are just moments away from the United States Title bout, between Danny Williams and Annie Eclectic.

 

Riley: I’ve been looking forward to this one for a long time, these two never fail to bring the hate. As seen on Storm, they don’t give a damn about the rules, they just want to hurt each other. Which is why tonight, there will be no D.Q., anything goes.

 

Stevens: Indeed, it’s no secret that Williams and Annie both need the win. So I expect them to pull out all the stops and throw everything they have at each other.

 

Riley: Since winning the United States title in convincing fashion at Ashes to Ashes, Danny Williams has suffered back to back loses that have left doubts in the minds of most wrestling observers as to what kind of Champion he’s going to be. If he can defeat Annie once more, in match where the rules clearly go to favor, than he can finally get on the road to greatness.

 

Stevens: All very true, Stevens. But this match is also very import to Annie Eclectic. Not long ago it seemed like she was finally on the right track, holding the Hardcore and U.S. titles simultaneously. However it wouldn’t last, she would go on to lose three straight matches costing her both of the titles she worked so hard to win. With an army of contenders lining up for a shot at the title, it will be a long time before she get’s another chance to redeem herself.

 

With those words, “I Get Wet” by Andrew W.K., blasts over the PA setting off an explosion of cheers. Decked out in her spiffy trench coat, Annie makes her way out of the locker room, taking the time to blow kisses to her adoring fans. Since the greedy bastards in the front office wanted to fit as many people in the arena as possible, the aisle to the ring is much more narrower than usual. Not wanting to be groped, Annie swiftly jogs down the aisle, slapping a few hands. She slides into the ring, and poses on the second turnbuckle with her Kendo Sword pointed towards the heavens. The blinding camera flashes that follow give her an almost celestial appearance. After soaking up the cheers of her adoring fans, she removes her trench coat, earning some cat calls and whistles.

 

Riley: Of course Annie’s ribs are still a big question mark.

 

Stevens: She has been gambling with her health by wrestling injured over and over again, but tonight she can’t afford to take anytime off to recover. She has to stay in the hunt, and keep pushing on, no matter what.

 

The music fades until it’s no longer audible, leaving only the sound of the fan’s jittering. Than the soft, beautiful, melodies of “The Jester’s Race” begins booming over the PA, triggering a bombardment of “boos”. The curtain blocking the locker room, begins to shift, finally peeling away as Danny Williams walks through it. The U.S. Title is wrapped tightly around his wide waist, sparkling like a diamond as the arena lights hit it. He isn’t wearing any protective gear on his face, though his nose is discolored and slightly swollen, his eyes are also blacked.

 

Stevens: Williams’ nose does not look like it has healed at all during his week off. He really should be wearing a protective face mask, I don’t even understand how the doctor’s cleared him.

 

Riley: But that’s like putting a big bulls eye on your face, saying “hit me right here.”

 

With his always cold and focused expression, Williams takes his sweet time in walking down the narrow aisle. With screaming fans on both sides, Williams starts to get very agitated, picking up his pace slightly. Suddenly, out of the wall of arms, someone slips in a smack that connects right with Williams’ broken noise. Growling like some type of wild animal, Williams jumps over the guardrail. Williams grabs his suspect by the neck, a skinny teenager in a football jersey. The crowd parts like the red seas, as Williams starts pounding the poor kid’s face with right hands. The kid curls up in a little ball, but Williams continues the assault. Big guys in yellow shirts surround the scene. “GET HIM OUT OF HERE!” barks Williams, the security guards hesitate, but than nod and drag the bloody kid away. Williams hops back over the guardrail, as the outraged crowd starts an “ASS-HOLE, ASS-HOLE, ASS-HOLE!” chant.

 

Riley: I hope they take that little punk backstage, and feed him to Williams after the show.

 

Stevens: How can you say that, Riley? Sure the fans can get out of hand at times, but you have to let the authorities handle it in a safe and proper manner. You just can’t start attacking them, I wouldn’t be surprised if Williams suffers a costly fine for that assault.

 

Riley: Ah, fuck all that.

 

After all that nonsense, Williams finally enters the ring. He casually removes his belt, and hands to it Hunt. Hunt raises the belt over his head for all to see, the crowd gives a more positive reaction with some claps.

 

Stevens: There it is the United States Title!

 

Riley: How much is that valued out now days, in terms of currency.

 

Stevens: I’ve heard it being appraised around three hundred dollars are so, but that’s not the reason these two are going war. It’s the legacy of the belt that’s important, there have been former United States champions like Edwin Machphisto and Sacred who would later go on to capture the World Title......

 

Riley: Like Tom Flesher.

 

Stevens: Well will have to wait and see about that. The point is that it’s a symbol of achievement, proving that you have set your self away from the fact, and are destined for great things.

 

Williams gets in his corner, and starts stretching his chest and arms out. Annie jogs in place in her corner, pointing her Kendo Sword at Williams while half joking and half serious, starts shouting cliched taunts like “Your going down!” and what not. Funyon enters the ring, dressed in his finest tuxedo as always. He removes an index card from his coat pocket, and begins to read from it.

 

Funyon: Ladies and Gentlemen the following United States Title bout is scheduled for one fall at a thirty minute limit, and will be fought under No D.Q. rules. Introducing first.... the challenger, weighing in at a lean 175 pounds, hailing from Indianapolis, Indiana.......ANNIE ECLECTIC!

 

Annie acknowledges the crowd’s cheers by raising her Kendo Sword in the air, and spinning around so they all can get a good look at her pose.

 

Funyon: And her opponent, weighing in at 238 pounding, hailing from Louisville, Kentucky.....THE UNITED STATES CHAMPION...........DAN....WHAT THE HELL!

 

Williams charges out of his corner, shoving Funyon out of his way! Realizing that Williams is headed right for her, Annie’s eyes light up with surprise. Caught with her guard down, Annie is unable to get her Kendo Sword up in time! Williams rushes in on his cornered opponent, grabbing a handful of hair with one hand, and elbowing her face with the other! Annie drops her Kendo Sword, an a vain attempt to shield herself from Williams’ attack! Hunt calls for the bell, while Funyon dives out of the ring like his life depends on it. DING! DING! DING!

 

Stevens: Here we go! Williams jumping the bell, and ambushing the challenger!

 

Riley: He’s overwhelming Annie, so she doesn’t get a chance to use that damn Kendo Sword. Personally, I don’t blame him. Those things can mess you, Stevens!

 

Williams yanks Annie’s head down by her hair, and starts slamming knees into her face! Needing to regroup, Annie frees herself from Williams’ grasp and bails out of the ring. Williams follows her out, not giving her a chance to collect herself. Clank! Williams pushes Annie into the guardrail, and slices her chest with a stiff Knife Edge Chop! Smack! Williams lays another one into her, before leading her off the guardrail with a front facelock. Williams tosses Annie’s arm over his shoulder, and grabs a handful of her tights.

 

Riley: Williams, looking to Suplex Annie on the hard arena floor.

 

Williams doesn’t strain a muscle, lifting Annie’s small frame up with ease. Unfortunately for Williams, Annie jumps out of the facelock, landing safely on her feet behind him! Williams spins around to take control of the situation, but finds himself hooked up in a front facelock. Annie drops back, spiking Williams’ head into the unforgiving floor! The crowd gives a big pop for Annie’s ruthless aggression.

 

Stevens: DDT! DDT ON THE FLOOR!

 

Groggy from all the punishment she absorbed, Annie needs the guardrail to stand up. Annie helps the dazed champion up, and rolls him back into the ring. Not wasting a second more, Annie slides back in the ring and hooks Williams’ legs for the pin.

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

Williams kicks out from underneath Annie, only to be trapped in a rear chinlock.

 

Stevens: A near fall right off the bat, that is never a good sign.

 

Riley: For once your actually right about something, Stevens. Williams has gotten off to a terrible start, he needs to turn things around and fast.

 

Annie squeezes Williams’ head, until it shakes like it’s going to pop. With the traffic of blood flow to his brain, brought to a virtual stand still, Williams begins to have trouble staying awake. Williams desperately reaches up at his attacker’s face, managing to grab hold of her hair. Williams gives it a yank, causing Annie to briefly cry out in pain.

 

Riley: Ahhhhhh, the beauty of a No D.Q. match. Hair pulling is as perfectly legal as a wristlock.

 

Stevens: The No D.Q. stipulation is so important to this match up. In fact, I believe that the winner of this match, will be the one that best uses the stipulation to their advantage.

 

With her hair being ripped from it’s roots, Annie can’t keep the chinlock applied tightly enough to keep Williams down. Suddenly, Annie starts eyeing Williams’ hand very carefully, and than without warning, digs her teeth into it. Williams lets loose a muffled scream, as Annie bites away at his flesh.

 

Riley: She’s biting him, Stevens! For crying out loud, somebody put a muzzle on that bitch!

 

Stevens: Well like you said, that’s the beauty of the No D.Q. match, it’s as legal as a wristlock.

 

Williams pulls back his mangled hand in horror. Not wanting her hair pulled out again, Annie releases the chinlock, in favor of a rear head scissors. Annie picks up wear she left off with the chinlock, squeezing the blood out of Williams’ brain like it’s a sponge.

 

Riley: Yeah, but I meant stuff like pulling the tights and hair. Not biting! Some things are just sacred, no pun intended.

 

Stevens: Annie doesn’t seem to think so, and I’m sure if giving the chance, Williams would do the same.

 

Despite going in and out of consciousness, Williams manages to summon enough power to roll over on his belly, slipping out of the head scissors and leaving Annie vulnerable on her belly. Williams quickly pounces Annie, mounting her back, and wrapping his forearm around her throat in a blatant choke! Annie gags and coughs for air, her face turning a shade of purple as a result.

 

Stevens: I guess you approve of Williams blatantly strangling her like that.

 

Riley: Yeah that’s o.k., at least he isn’t bitting her!

 

Hunt starts to get worried that Williams may be taking it to far, he examines Annie carefully, waiting for the precise moment to stop the match. Annie doesn’t give him that chance, fighting for her life, she reaches behind her head, feeling for Williams’ face. Annie finds Williams’ left eye, and precedes to push her thumb into it! This doesn’t feel to good at all, especially if your eye is already blacked.

 

Stevens: Let me guess, you don’t approve of that.

 

Riley: Actually I do, there’s nothing wrong with a good o’ poke to the eye.

 

The pressure in Williams’ eye builds to intolerable levels. He finally gives in, releasing Annie, too frantically rub his eye clear. Annie remains on the mat, gasping for air. Once his vision clears up, Williams spots the Kendo Sword lying in the corner. Out of breath, Annie slowly climbs to her feet, only for Williams to wrap the Kendo Sword around her throat! Williams leans back, lifting Annie’s feet off the mat. The combination of Annie’s eyes rolling up in her head and her tongue dangling out, creates a disturbing image that causes the young girls in the audience to cry.

 

Stevens: I know it’s legal, but it’s still sick.

 

Riley: Don’t worry about Annie, she claims to love the pain.

 

Stevens: Annie at times does seem to love the pain, but I doubt she’s enjoying being hung.

 

Despite air being the most important thing on her mind, Annie comes up with an escape plan. She kicks her leg backwards, driving her heel into Williams’ balls! Williams drops Annie, collapses to his knees, where he starts dry heaving like he’s going to puke. Annie also falls to her knees, clutching her throat, struggling to refill her lungs with precious oxygen.

 

Stevens: Annie, going low to break up the choke!

 

Riley: God, I hope Williams remembered to wear his cup tonight. Somehow I don’t think that’s the last low blow were going to see.

 

Stevens: Interesting to note, that this has been a record setting year for low blow fouls.

 

Riley: Now that’s something for the SWF to be proud of, but seriously what number are we at?

 

Stevens: 1,2345, and we still have a little over a week till New Year’s Day.

 

Riley: Every time I think about coming back, it’s numbers like that, that keep me in this broadcasting position.

 

Between Williams aching balls and Annie’s battle for air, both make it to their feet at the same time. The more pissed of the two, Williams fires the first strike, a Rolling Elbow! Annie ducks, getting underneath Williams, and lifting him for the Backdrop Suplex! Instead of falling back with the momentum, Annie opts to toss Williams on the top rope, balls first! Williams’ eyes light up, his mouth hangs open, but no sound is made as if he is in too much pain to scream. The flinching males in the audience, show their sympathy with a loud “Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh!” Showing no mercy for her crouched opponent, Annie springs off her feet and drills the dangling champion with a standing Dropkick! The impact knocks Williams off the ropes, all the way down to the arena floor! In indescribable pain, Williams curls up in the fetal position.

 

Riley: Now the low blow to escape the choke hold, I can understand. But that was just plain cruel.

 

Stevens: Well, no one ever accused of Annie of being an angel. She’s the Queen of Hardcore, and proud.

 

Annie picks up her Kendo Sword, over joyed at being reunited with her long time friend. The fans slide to the edge of their seats, as Annie ascends to the top turnbuckle. Annie points her Kendo Sword to the sky, prompting the fans to take snapshots.

 

Stevens: Annie going up top, how weird does that sound?

 

Riley: Hopefully she’ll slip and crouch herself, and poetic justice will be served.

 

Williams gingerly climbs to his feet, unaware that Annie has him in her sights. Camera flashes light up the arena, as Annie dives off the top rope with her Kendo Sword drawn back over her head! SMACK! Annie brings the thick weapon down over Williams’ back with unmeasurable force!

 

Stevens: OUCH!

 

Riley: Damn, that must of hurt!

 

Unable to tolerate the stinging in his back, Williams drops to his knees, his face contorted in agony. Annie takes aim, and pops him again! SMACK! “Oh God” cries Williams as he flops over on his hands and knees. Looking to finish Williams off, Annie raises the Kendo Sword over her head, once more. SMACK! Annie unmercifully brings it down over Williams’ back! Williams goes limp, appearing to have passed out from the pain. His back is now covered with red whelps, that are even painful to look at. Knowing full and well she can’t win the title on the outside, Annie leans her sword against the ring, and rolls Williams inside. Annie slides in as well, promptly covering Williams with a lateral press.

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

Williams vigorously kicks out! Not to be discouraged, Annie grabs her Kendo Sword, and waits for Williams to get up. Once Williams arises, Annie takes aim for his head, and charges forward at full speed. Once in range, she swings like she wants to knock Williams’ head out of the ball park! SWOOOOOSH! Williams ducks, and catches Annie in the gut with a knee! Annie flips into the air, the Kendo Sword slipping out of her clutches and rolling out of the ring. The crowd gasps as Annie rolls around on the mat, holding her gut and kicking her legs in pain. With the stinging in his back subsiding, Williams wastes no time in dragging Annie up by her hair. Williams whips Annie to the ropes, catching her on the rebound with a stabbing elbow to the gut! Annie drops to her hands and knees, clutching her stomach and grimacing like it hurts to breath. Not giving her a chance to get up, Williams gives her ribs a nasty soccer kick! Smack! Than another for the hell of it! Smack! Annie rolls over on her back, doing her best to cover her brittle ribs.

 

Stevens: Williams, picking up where he left off on Tuesday, attacking Annie’s ribs which has been her Achilles’ heel as of late.

 

Riley: A great champion cannot, nor never forget a challenger’s weakness.

 

Williams kneels in front of his injured opponent and rolls her over into a front facelock. Williams pulls the challenger up, setting her up for Suplex! Williams lifts Annie’s frail body up with ease, but before he can fall back, she jumps out of his gasp! Annie runs into the ropes, launching herself at the champ! Williams spins around in the nick of time, avoiding the attack by simply side stepping her! As Annie passes by, Williams hooks her up in a Abdominal Stretch! “IEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” screams Annie as her wounded ribs are stretched out over Williams’ knee. Just to be a dick, Williams starts driving elbows into Annie’s ribs. Annie is in complete misery, her face contorted with pain. Sensing she needs their support, the crowd starts chanting, “ANN-E! ANN-E! ANN-E!”.

 

Stevens: It looks like he’s going to use an Abdominal Stretch to wear down Annie’s body. Fans, I would like to take this opportunity to remind you that tickets are now on sale for Clusterfuck 2002.

 

Riley: That’s right, all you have to do is call your local ticket master, and tell them that you want to be part of Clusterfuck. Buy them now, because there selling quick.

 

Despite the pain being unbearable, Annie’s brain keeps working on an escape plan. Annie somehow manages to unwrap her hand from around Williams’ head, and rake it across his black eyes. Temporarily blinded, Williams instinctively releases Annie to shield his burning eyes! With Williams blinded, Annie crawls out of the ring to the safety of the floor.

 

Stevens: Annie bailing, which isn’t a bad idea if your in trouble, because there is no count out, and pin falls don’t count on the outside. And yes as Riley said, tickets for Clusterfuck are going fast, so order yours today. They make great stocking stuffers.

 

Riley: I can’t imagine a better Christmas gift for your family, than tickets to Clusterfuck.

 

It doesn’t take long for Williams to recover his eye sight, and once he does, he’s pissed. Williams exits the ring, but instead of going after his prone opponent, he orders the time keeper to get up. Not wanting to tangle with a 238 pound roid freak, the time keeper obliges. Williams snatches the chair, and folds it up to better suit it’s new use. By this time, Annie is making her way to her feet, but Williams puts a stop to that with a stiff chair shot! SMACK! Annie collapses under the heavy blow, leaving her lying vulnerable on the floor. Williams stands over the challenger like a proud conqueror, the front rolls fans cursing his name. Williams turns the chair downward, and begins plunging it into Annie’s gut like a spear! After having her ribs battered repeatedly, Annie finally quits moving, giving Williams the indication it would be a good time to put her away. Williams yanks Annie up by her arm, rolls her into the ring, and reenters himself. The pin is instantaneous.

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

Annie kicks out with authority! Williams had a feeling that wouldn’t get the job done, so he isn’t too shaken. With a front facelock, Williams pulls Annie to her feet. Draping Annie’s arm over his shoulder, Williams sets Annie up for a Suplex. Bending his knees for more power, Williams lifts! But Annie quickly wraps her leg around his, to block the Suplex. A few forearms to the rib cage fixes that problem, leaving Annie at Williams’ mercy. “EEEEEEEEYA!” grunts Williams as lifts a squirming Annie over his head. Annie kicks her legs violently into the air, fighting to get free, but Williams maintains his balance. To the surprise of the match’s observers, Williams falls forward, dropping Annie on her stomach! The crowd “ohs” at the sight of Annie bounce off her stomach and face.

 

Riley: Very clever, Williams modified the Vertical Suplex to drop Annie on stomach, causing further damage to her injured ribs.

 

Stevens: Actually that’s fairly common Riley, it’s called a Reverse Suplex. Still, I am very interested to see wear this body work is going, since Willliams doesn’t have any real big bombs in his offense, that target the body.

 

Annie is obviously subjective to a pin attempt, but Williams has other plans. Wearing a confident grin across his face, Williams struts up behind Annie as she makes the painful climb to her feet. Acting with haste, Williams ducks his head beneath Annie’s arm and locks his hands around her hip.

 

Riley: Does that answer your question, Stevens! The body work was just a way to get Annie hurt enough to hit the Dangerous Backdrop!

 

Stevens: That’s the same move he finished her with at Ashes to Ashes!

 

With a snap of the hips, Williams hoists Annie on to his shoulder with relative ease.

 

Riley: THIS IS IT!

 

The change in elevation seems to snap Annie to her senses. Annie starts thrusting her legs into the air, desperately trying to shift her weight forward. Getting no where fast and running out of time, a light bulb goes off in Annie’s head. With her free arm, Annie starts pumping her fist into Williams’ nose!

 

Stevens: NO! Annie’s fighting out of it! I bet Danny wished he wore a face protector now.

 

Just looking for a way out of this mess, Williams sets Annie back down. Remembering what happened at Ashes to Ashes when he set her down, Williams immediately clubs Annie with an Enzui Lariat!

 

Riley: Whoa, I thought for sure that Annie was going to give him a bulldog like at Ashes to Ashes, but Williams is one step ahead of her.

 

Stevens: When it comes to thinking ahead of your opponent, Williams is one of the best in the business.

 

Riley: And that’s why he is the United States Champion.

 

Williams sniffs his nose, causing a single stream of blood to run out of his right nostril. Williams wipes it off on his hand, taking a few steps back from Annie. Enraged at the sight of his own blood, Williams starts impatiently motioning for Annie to get up. Annie struggles to her hands and knees, only to be knocked on her back with a stiff kick to the ribs! Smack! Williams doesn’t monopolize, instead he takes a few steps back and waits. Trembling with pain, Annie makes her way to her hands and knees again. Smack! Williams punts her again, with the same result. Annie tries to stand up yet again, but Williams cuts her off with another punt to the ribs! “Booooooooooooooo!” echoes through the arena. Annie doesn’t seem able to get up this time, remaining on her back and wincing in pain. Williams gives her all the time she needs, enjoying her suffering. The fans offer encouragement with an “ANN-E! ANN-E! ANN-E!” Hunt asks Annie if she want’s to go on, getting a nod as a reply.

 

Stevens: Rather than trying to torture and humiliate the challenger, Williams should be looking for a pin fall.

 

Riley: That will come in good time, Stevens. Right now he’s got Annie right where he wants her, no point in taking a chance with a big move just yet. You saw what happened when he attempted the Dangerous Backdrop, he almost lost control of the match. And are you forgetting the Mac Francis match, where Williams lost because he took too many risks!

 

Annie sucks up the burning pain in her ribs, making another exhausting attempt to get to a vertical base. Growing impatient, Williams helps Annie the rest of the way up by her hair. Without warning, Annie knocks Williams’ arms off and rips a European Uppercut up his nose! Stunned but not seriously hurt, Williams get’s Annie’s message loud and clear, she isn’t giving up.

 

Stevens: What a shot! She caught him right in the nose.

 

Williams responds by pulling Annie’s head down by her hair, forcing her to double over. With Annie’s ribs fully exposed, Williams starts repeatedly jamming knees into them! Thinking eight straight knees is enough to kill the Hardcore Queen’s spirit, Williams releases Annie’s hair.

 

Riley: Ha, that should put a stop to that comeback.

 

Instead of cowering in pain like Williams and Riley expected, Annie sucks it up. She rises up and looks the surprised U.S. Champ straight in the eye. The frenzied crowd energetically stomps their feet so fast it sounds like someone is firing a machine gun.

 

Riley: No fucking way!

 

Stevens: Annie doesn’t care about the pain, she will not be denied the victory, tonight.

 

Williams growls with indignation at Annie’s stubbornness, shoving her head down for some more knees. But Annie will have none of this, she knocks Williams’ hand off her head in a act of rebellion. Before Williams can react to this defiance, Annie shoves his head down, and starts slamming knees into his nose! Thinking the knees evened the score, Annie releases the champ. Now it’s Williams who rises up, and looks Annie coldly in the eyes. The pumped crowd gives a standing ovation that threatens to blow the roof off the building, while the two warriors exchange hostile glares.

 

Stevens: UH OH! NEITHER WRESTLER BACKING DOWN!

 

Riley: IT’S ON NOW, STEVENS!

 

Annie fires first, trying her luck with a right hook! Crack! It connects stiffly with Williams’ jaw, but no sooner than it lands, he’s returning fire with a lethal elbow strike! Crack! Annie doesn’t let the pain get to her, coming right back with another haymaker! Crack!

 

Stevens: THEIR GOING TOE TO TOE, TRADING SHOT FOR SHOT!

 

Williams shakes with anger, swelling up like a balloon that’s about to pop. “DAH!” cries Williams as he channels his rage into a cringe inducing Elbow Smash! Crack! Annie tires to hold her ground, but the impact knocks her back a few steps! Showing uncomparable courage, Annie shakes off the strike and pushes forward! Crack! Williams knocks her right back where she started with another Elbow! Annie’s knees buckle this time, threatening to go out on her! On that cue, Williams gracefully performs a 360 spin!

 

Riley: ROLLING ELBOOOOOOOOW!

 

Annie sees it coming, getting her arms up just in time!

 

Stevens: IT’S BLOCKED!

 

Williams is slow to get his hands back, leaving him wide open for an attack! Not letting the opportunity slip away, Annie locks her fingers around Williams’ neck, and crushes his face with a Jumping Knee! Crack! Doubled over with his fingers gracing the mat, Williams stumbles backwards a few steps, before dropping to his hands and knees. Annie takes careful aim, and fires her patent seated Dropkick!

 

Stevens: DROP KISS!

 

Williams rolls out of the way, and doesn’t stop rolling into he reaches the ropes!

 

Riley: NO! HE SAW IT COMING!

 

Annie doesn’t have time to lick her wounds, climbing to her feet as quick as she can! Williams is already up, springing off the ropes with his elbow extended! SMACK! Annie catches him right in the nose, with a stiff Superkick! Williams blows back into the ropes, ricocheting right back at Annie with another Running Elbow! SMACK! Annie gets her leg up for another Superkick! Instead of bouncing off the ropes like last time, Williams falls through them, landing lifelessly on the ring apron!

 

Stevens: SUPERKICK!

 

Riley: THE CHAMP IS DOWN!

 

With the adrenaline rush gone, all the pain from Williams’ attack comes back on Annie with a vengeance. She collapses to her knees, her ribs and head swelling with pain. The crowd finally succeeds in blowing the roof off the building, with a standing ovation that can be heard for miles.

 

Stevens: Now it is Annie who is thinking ahead of Williams, operating at the same level as the champion! Knowing that Williams was going to take the Superkick to land the Running Elbow, Annie didn’t let her guard down and caught him coming in!.

 

Riley: Sorry to burst your bubble, but that seemed more like instinct than a thought out plan.

 

Stevens: Perhaps your right, but the end result is the same. Annie managed to stay one move ahead of the U.S. Champion.

 

Williams’ eyes start to twitch, finally opening, he wipes his nose which has become a mess of dark, blood. With the aid of the ropes, Williams begins to pull himself up, but Annie is there to greet him. Annie slaps on a front facelock, preparing to Suplex Williams into the ring. “HIIIIEEEEEEEEEEE!” screeches Annie, as she hoists the much bigger man over her head. Unable to support Williams weight in her weak condition, Annie starts violently trembling with strain. Annie loses her grip, allowing Williams to slip out of the facelock, and land safely on his feet behind her! Williams takes the opportunity to slap on a Sleeperhold! “Booooooooooooooo!” moans the audience. Annie starts to put up a hell of a fight, so Williams does his best to jerk her away from the ropes! However, Annie has another escape route in mind. She rushes for the nearest corner, dragging Williams behind her! Once she reaches her destination, Annie slides down, driving Williams’ face into the top turnbuckle! Needless to say, Williams releases Annie, roaming to the center of the ring with his face buried in his hands.

 

Stevens: Brilliant escape by Annie! Instinct my ass, she knows Williams like a book, none of his old tricks from Ashes to Ashes have worked tonight.

 

Riley: I am sure he has a few more tricks up his sleeve, he has to.

 

Annie darts at the wandering champ, palming his head and sitting out, slamming his face into the mat with a heartless Facebuster! Annie stands up, and pulls her arms across her waist to motion that she’s going to be wearing a belt soon. The crowd applauds Annie’s confidence, also sensing that she is close to putting the U.S. away. Annie pulls Williams into a standing head scissors, and traps his arms in a double underhook!

 

Stevens: Annie positioning Williams for the....DAYBREAK! That’s the move that broke Williams’ nose on Strom!

 

Riley: I can’t believe it, that bitch is actually going to pull the win off!

 

Williams drops to one knee, Annie pulls him up, he drops to one knee, Annie pulls him up, he drops again. It takes a while for the idea to sink in, but Annie finally realizes that she isn’t going to pull her finisher off just yet. She releases Williams’ arms, and clocks him with a stiff right hook! Crack! Williams wobbles backwards, giving Annie enough space to drill him with a stiff Dropkick! The next thing Williams’ knows, he’s laying on his back, and Annie is looking down at him with a sinister grin. Annie begins to ruthlessly stomp away at Williams’ already bloody nose, while the crowd gives a mixed reaction.

 

Stevens: This is ghastly, Annie’s quest for the U.S. title has awakened the blood thirsty beast within.

 

Riley: And I am starting to hate her a whole lot less.

 

Though she stopped stomping him, Annie continues her cruelty by rubbing and scraping her boot on his nose. With a look of pure evil on her face, Annie jumps high into the air, and squashes Williams’ face with a Senton! The crowd “ohs”, and some little kid starts crying in the distance.

 

Stevens: Oh my god!

 

Riley: Now that’s a quality of a Champion! Who needs all that countering bullshit, when you can just beat the hell out of your opponent.

 

Williams pushes Annie off, and rolls out of the ring, leaving a blood trail behind him. Stalking her prey like a wolf smelling blood, Annie follows Williams out. Williams is delirious, straining to pull himself up with the guardrail, his nose is now oozing blood like a water hose. Annie grabs the steel chair, that Williams had used on her ribs earlier. Without hesitation, she jams it into Williams nose! His eyes watering and nose burning, Williams takes a few awkward steps backwards, giving Annie the right amount of space she was looking for. Clank! Annie bashes Williams’ face with a vicious chair shot, that sends him spiraling to the floor!

 

Stevens: Annie working Williams’ nose over with the steel chair, perhaps some revenge for Williams using the chair on her ribs earlier.

 

Riley: Absolutely, she wants Williams to feel the pain and humiliation she had to endure. Winning the title is the last thing on her mind, at the moment.

 

Annie rolls her battered and bloodied opponent back into the ring, and hops on to the ring apron. Annie raises a finger into the air, spinning it around in a circular motion.

 

Riley: Tornado DDT coming up!

 

Stevens: She’s taking this match back to the ring, hopefully the will to win the title has returned.

 

From the outside, Annie climbs up the turnbuckles, balancing herself on the top rope as Danny crawls to his feet. Annie dives down on the champ, catching him in a front facelock, using the momentum of the fall to spin him around! Annie tries to use the same momentum to fall back and drive Williams’ skull into the mat, but he keeps his boots planted on the mat, tossing Annie across the ring. Thump! Annie lands hard on her side, sending surges of pain shooting through her ribs. “Ohhhhhhhhhhh” gasps the crowd

 

Riley: Williams just slung her off like rag doll! It looks like she might have reinjured those ribs as well.

 

Stevens: I might add that Williams is doing a excellent job of keeping Annie from a finding an offensive rhythm. Every time it looks like she’s going to run away with this thing, he goes right back to the ribs, stopping her dead in her tracks!

 

Riley: This isn’t going to just stop her in her tracks, it’s going to knock her back a few feet.

 

Williams leans against the turnbuckles, summoning the power for an offensive attack. Not letting some sore ribs keep her down, Annie staggers to her feet. Williams waits for Annie to get fully erect, before springing out of the corner at her! Once Williams gets within a few feet of his victim, he leaps off his left boot, slamming his right one into her face with a nasty Jumping High Kick! Smack! A cloud of sweat flies into the air from Annie’s face, needless to say she hits the mat like a sack of bricks. The crowd is in complete shock, many of the women have their hands covering their mouths.

 

Stevens: THE DYNAMIC KICK! I have never seen Williams or anybody in the SWF, use that strike before!

 

Riley: The Dynamic kick, eh? I like it, and it looks like it put Annie out like a light.

 

Williams bends over, grabbing Annie by her hair to jerk her up. He finds that she is as dead as she looks, he releases her hair, letting her head flop back lifelessly to the mat. With that in mind, Williams decides it will now be a good time to go for the pin. He anxiously covers the K.O.ed challenger, and hooks a leg for the pin.

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

NO! Annie escapes with a weak kick out! Moving with unusual swiftness, Williams climbs out on to the ring apron, and ascends the turnbuckles. With a red boot imprint on her face, Annie slowly but surely makes her way to her feet. Williams dives face first off the top rope, and jams an elbow into her face on the way down! CRACK!

 

Riley: DIVING ELBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW!

 

Williams rolls to the nearest corner, springs to his feet, and hops up on to the second rope. Williams leaps off, and crushes Annie’s forehead with the Knee Drop! Williams quickly covers Annie with the lateral press!

 

Stevens: This may be enough!

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO1/4.....

 

 

 

 

Annie barely kicks out from underneath Williams, and rolls out of the ring. Williams gets a crazy look in his eyes, that the fans of seen before. Members of the audience start popping up, one by one, as Williams makes his way to the other side of the ring. Williams leans deep into the ropes, launching himself across the ring. Williams dives through the second rope, head first for the Elbow Suicida! Just as Williams calculated, Annie turns around just as he’s about to connect! There’s just one problem, she is holding a chair up to shield herself! CLANK! WILLIAMS GOES FACE FIRST INTO THE STEEL CHAIR! The fans jump out of their seats with a look of utter disbelief etched across their faces. Finally a chant can be heard in the distance, picking up steam as it moves from roll to roll, “HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!”

 

Riley: HOLY SHIT! WILLIAMS IS DEAD!

 

Stevens: I am just lost for words.....not to discredit Williams, but I think this match is over. All Annie needs to do is get him in the ring, and we have a new champion.

 

Annie tries to lift Williams up like usual, but finds that he is far to limp. Realizing she has her work cut out for her, she sighs and rolls her eyes. Annie sits Williams’ carcass up, places her head underneath his armpit like a Northern Lights Suplex, and pulls him up on to her shoulders in a Fireman Carry. Annie rolls Williams’ corpse into the ring, and slides in after him. She drags him away from the ropes by his boots, and confidently hooks a leg for the pin.

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO1/2.......

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Williams kicks out with a surge of power, that Annie didn’t know he had him!

 

Riley: HE KICKED OUT! UNBELIEVABLE DETERMINATION FROM THE CHAMP!

 

Stevens: Now is the time for Annie to let it all hang out and throw everything she has at Williams, because she might not get another chance!

 

Annie snaps a front facelock on Williams, forces him to his feet, and walks him to a corner. Annie hops on to the second rope, and leaps off! Annie spins Williams around, and plants his cranium into the mat with a brutal Tornado DDT! Hunt slides into position, as Annie goes for the pin.

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO1/2.........

 

 

 

 

 

NO! Williams raises a shoulder up, to the disappointment of the fans.

 

Stevens: It’s taking Williams’ more and more time to kick out, Annie is getting closer.

 

Annie wipes some sweat out of her eyes, and scoops her near dead opponent up with a fireman’s carry. The crowd “Ahs”, as Annie jogs across the ring and sits out, slamming Williams’ head and upper back into the mat!

 

Stevens: DEATH VALLEY DRIVER! DEATH VALLEY DRIVAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

Annie sits on Williams chest, and hooks a leg for the pin!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO1/2........

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO3/4.............

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NO! WILLIAMS GETS A SHOULDER UP! Pouring seat and gasping for air, Annie rolls off Williams, her expression is one of disbelief and uncertainty.

 

Riley: WILLIAMS WILL NOT STAY DOWN!

 

Stevens: Annie has got to dig deep and keep pushing forward, she can’t give up now! She is so close to pulling off the victory, maybe just one move away!

 

Still more determined than ever, Annie rolls Williams over on his back, and mounts him. She pulls his left arm behind his back into a chickenwing, and the crowd jumps back on their feet.

 

Riley: THE TRIPLE C! I haven’t seen Annie use this in a while!

 

Stevens: If she can’t pin Williams, she’ll make him submit!

 

Annie wraps right arm around Williams throat for the cross face, only to discover that Williams has his free arm in the way. With a death grip on Annie’s forearm, Williams desperately blocks the Triple C. “HIEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” groans Annie as she summons all her power to apply the hold, but Williams annoyingly keeps pushing her arm away.

 

Stevens: There is on rope break, fans! All Annie has to do is lock that hold on, and she can walk away with the gold!

 

With a frustrated look on her face, Annie gives up on the cross face in favor of pounding Williams’ head with her fist. After taking out her frustration on Williams’ head, Annie chickenwings his other arm, linking her hands together. Annie rolls over on her back, pinning Williams shoulders to the mat in the process, she bridges up as if she had just completed a Tiger Suplex. The amazed crowd, counts along with Hunt.

 

Stevens: WHAT A MANEUVER, THIS COULD BE IT!

 

 

“ONE!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“THRE-OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” moans the fans, as Williams rolls out of the pinning predicament. Williams starts to get to his feet, but Annie stops him with a uppercut to the balls! “Umph!” spits Williams as he crumbles to the mat in agony.

 

Riley: Another low blow, damn that bitch to hell!

 

Stevens: This is how she hit the Daybreak on Storm!

 

Annie lets out an emotional battle cry, and lifts Williams up into a stand head scissors. She carefully applies the double underhook, but as soon as she does, Williams charges forward. BOOM! Williams rams Annie into the turnbuckles, knocking the wind out of her, and sending surges of pain shooting through her wounded rib cage. The pain is far to great for her to maintain her lock on Williams’ arms, allowing him to slip out of the double underhook! Williams grabs a front facelock, and falls back, jamming Annie’s head into the mat with a DDT!

 

Stevens: Annie came so close to putting Williams away during that stretch, but once again the ribs come into play.

 

Riley: If Williams didn’t bust up Annie’s ribs during their last match, he may have lost the title. It’s amazing how much the small things payoff in big matches.

 

Still weak from Annie’s attack, mostly the low blow, Williams stays on his back, his nose has stopped bleeding but his face is still smeared with blood. Both wrestlers are down, their stomachs pumping up and down with air, and theirs eyes closed. The crowd tries to encourage Annie by chanting her name enthusiastically. “ANN-E!” BOOM! BOOM! “ANN-E!” BOOM! BOOM! Annie starts to show signs of life, she is disorientated and dizzy looking. Williams sits up much quicker, and it’s obvious he’s going to beat her to a vertical base. With shaky knees, Annie wobbles to her feet, only to find herself trapped in a rear waistlock. Annie panics, and start frantically trying to pry Williams’ fingers apart. It’s too late, Williams bridges back, and tosses her high into the air!

 

Riley: GERMAN SUPLEX! RELEASE GERMAN SUPLEX!

 

Stevens: And so it begins!

 

Thump! Annie lands gruesomely on her neck and shoulders, causing her body to fold up like a sheet, the momentum carrying her all the way over on to her knees. Annie blindly feels for the floor, once finding it, she pushes her way to her feet. Williams immediately locks his hands around her belly in a another rear waistlock!

 

Riley: ONE MORE GERMAN COMING UP!

 

Stevens: Deja vu all over again for the Hardcore Queen! Despite a valiant effort, Williams is going to defeat her exactly the same way he did at Ashes to Ashes!

 

Williams bends his knees for the lift, but before he can follow through, Annie springs to life like she’s awakening from a bad dream! Finding herself in a wide awake nightmare, a horrified Annie lunges forward at the ropes! Williams is caught off guard by the amount of fight still left in the challenger, allowing Annie to make it to the ropes. With her arms secured around the ropes, Annie breaths a sigh of relief.

 

Stevens: SHE MADE THE ROPES!

 

Not to be denied his victory, Williams just yanks Annie off the ropes by her tights and sets her up for the German again!

 

Riley: HE’S GOT HER NOW, STEVENS!

 

Not giving Annie a chance to make the ropes again, Williams lifts her off the mat! Williams bridges back, but Annie’s eye catches the ropes. Annie desperately kicks off the ropes, pushing Williams to the mat prematurely! Thump! Annie lands on top of Williams, headbutting his nose with the back of her head! Annie rolls off Williams, who is clutching his nose while stomping his feet into the mat like he’s having a seizure.

 

Stevens: WHAT A COUNTER! Annie taking a page out of Renegade’s book, blocking the German by kicking off the ropes!

 

Riley: Not to mention the fact, she landed right on Williams broken nose! This could be a serious momentum killer.

 

Stevens: Indeed, the nose and the ribs have been the major story of the fight. That’s what happens when two wrestlers get in the ring, injured.

 

Despite drifting in out of consciousness, Annie knows she has to beat Williams to a vertical base. Annie very sluggishly makes it to her feet, as Williams crawls to his hands and knees. Annie summons enough power to leap into the air, and drive both her boots into Williams face with a seated Dropkick! The crowd jumps out of their seats, surprised by Annie’s resilience.

 

Stevens: DROP KISS! DROP KISS!

 

Riley: Williams is letting this match slip right out of his hands!

 

Stevens: Annie was never one to back down from a fight, but I have never seen her dig this deep before. She will not allow herself to lose, now that she’s came this close, the title is within her reach all she has to do is grab it!

 

Williams rolls over on his back, his face slowly going dumb, his last defense from the pain. In obvious pain and still woozy from the head drop, Annie stretches out her neck a few times, and finds her way to her feet once more. Annie guides Williams to his feet, and tucks his head between her thighs in a standing head scissors. Annie hooks one arm, hooks the other one, linking her hands together. The crowd senses what Annie senses, that Williams is finished. Still on their feet, the crowd starts whistling and cheering Annie on.

 

Stevens: Annie’s setting him for the DAYBREAK!

 

Riley: I can’t believe she’s going to risk trying it one more time!

 

Stevens: She has too! Williams has to be stopped now, because there’s no telling what will happen with the match continues any longer!

 

Annie bends her knees, and pulls! Annie lifts Williams on his tippy toes, but not nearly far enough for the Daybreak! The crowd pops big, before realizing she didn’t hit it. With a determined look on her face, Annie pulls again! But once again, she can only get him on his tippy toes. The crowd nearly has a coronary after that one. Williams drops to one knee, making things even more difficult for Annie. Annie tries in vain to yank him back up, but it’s no use. Annie curiously looks to the sky, as if to ask a god himself, why she can’t hit Williams with her finisher.

 

Riley: SHE STILL CAN’T HIT!

 

Stevens: IT’S NOW OR NEVER ANNIE! PULL, DAMMIT, PULL!

 

Annie forces Williams back up, she takes several deep breaths and than puts every last ounce of power she has left into one final lift! “IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEE!” Annie lifts Williams into the air, his legs kicking rapidly into the air! The crowd erupts with an explosion of cheers! But before Annie can jump back, Williams manages to replant his boots on the mat! The harsh reality finally sets in, and the once determined look on Annie’s face is replaced with one of sorrow. Annie releases Williams from the double underhook, and channels all her frustration into one big haymaker! That Williams blocks, leaving Annie momentarily defenseless! Williams performs a 180 degree spin, slamming a nasty Back Elbow into Annie’s temple! CRACK! Williams spins back around so that he’s face to face with Annie! Williams shuffles his feet into a 360 spin, and knocks her flat on her back with the Rolling Elbow! CRACK! This one knocks Annie flat on her back! Williams collapses from exhaustion, too weak to even go for the pin.

 

Riley: ANNIE’S DOWN! What a courageous performance by Danny Williams. Annie just keeps coming and coming, but he has had an answer for everything she’s thrown at him!

 

Stevens: Indeed, he has. I have never seen Annie so determined before, but Williams has managed match that determination.

 

The shift in momentum and tempo has silenced the crowd, however they still haven’t found their seats yet. Annie blinks a few times like she is awaking from a deep sleep, which she is. As if her body is too stiff to bend properly, she almost robotically sits up. Annie tries to stand up, but her legs just don’t have the strength. Unable to get rest for even a few seconds, Williams lackadaisically staggers in front of the challenger. Williams yanks Annie the rest of the way up by her hair, holding her steady like a punching bag. With his free arm, Williams starts hammering the challenger’s temple and jaw with heavy elbow smashes! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Williams releases Annie, she’s wobbly but she somehow remains on her feet. Williams performs a surprisingly graceful 360 spin, hammering Annie with a stiff elbow! Williams drops to the mat, and crawls on top of Annie’s carcass for the pin.

 

Riley: ROLLING ELBOW! ROLLING ELBOOOOOOOOW! THAT SHOULD DO IT, WILLIAMS RETAINS!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO1/2..........

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO3/4...............

 

 

 

 

 

 

NO! Annie somehow wiggles a shoulder up, to the surprise of Williams and the thousands in attendance.

 

Stevens: Not even two Rolling Elbows can stop Annie from completing her mission! As long as there is breath in her body, she will not abandon her quest to win the United States Title.

 

It’s obvious Annie isn’t going to get up on her own, so Williams steps back and takes a breather. While wiping some blood off his nose, Williams contemplates the manner in which he is going to finish off his helpless opponent. His plan thought out, Williams drags Annie up by her hair. Throwing a wrench into Williams’ plans, Annie catches him on the nose with a desperate European Uppercut! Williams releases Annie, to grab his throbbing nose. Now free, Annie leaps into the air, firing a Dropkick! Sadly, Annie’s exhaustion shows, the Dropkick is sloppy and slow, missing Williams by a mile.

 

Riley: This match is over, Annie is on borrowed on time.

 

Stevens: At least she’s going down with guns blazing.

 

Finding herself on the mat, staring up at the champ with glazed over eyes, Annie desperately tries to get back on her feet. Once she does, Williams sends her right back to the mat with a back breaking(figuratively) Running Elbow Smash! Crack! For a few moments, Annie just blankly stares at the arena lights.

 

Riley: That’s the nail in the coffin, Stevens! All that’s left for Williams to do, is bury her.

 

Stevens: What a heartbreaker. Annie pushed Williams to the limit, but tonight just wasn’t her night.

 

Williams lets the momentum carry him all the way to the opposite ropes, where he waits for the challenger’s reaction. But now is not the time for rest, Williams knows he has to put Annie away right now. Williams guides his incoherent opponent into a stand head scissors, and locks his hand around her waist, one at a time. Annie drops to one knee, more from lack of brain control than a defensive strategy. Williams just pulls her back up by her tights, huffing and puffing to make sure he has enough oxygen from the lift attempt. “DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH” grunts Williams, as he rips Annie off the mat. Williams starts to double over, even before Annie makes it to his shoulders! KA-BOOM! Williams violently slams Annie into the mat by her thighs, sending tremors throughout the arena. Williams quickly folds Annie’s broken body half, and leans over it for the pin.

 

Riley: DEATH BOMB! DEATH BOMB! DEATH BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMB!

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO1/2............

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

DING! DING! DING! Williams raises off Annie, letting her legs spring back to the mat. Williams rolls over on his back, to weak to celebrate his victory.

 

Stevens: IT’S OVER! IT’S OVER! WILLIAMS RETAINS!

 

Riley: YES, I KNEW HE COULD DO IT!

 

Hunt lifts his arm up, to make the win official. The crowd “boos” until their throats are so, but it isn’t going to change the outcome.

 

Funyon: The winner of the match by pinfall at 27 minutes and 11 seconds, AND STILL UNITED STATES CHAMPION........DANNY WILLIAMSssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss!

 

Annie is still out cold, and Williams is still unable to get up. About a dozen paramedics and doctors are in the ring, examining both wrestlers.

 

Stevens: That has got to be one of the most grueling matches I’ve ever witnessed. Annie gave it her all, but in the end Williams just had more fuel in the tank.

 

Riley: A testament to his superior conditioning, though I’d say his stubbornness played a big roll in his victory. By sheer force of will power he continuously avoided the Day Break, and left no punch unanswered.

 

Stevens: Though I doubt it will happen sometime in the near future, I really think Annie deserves another shot at the title. Tonight, she came as close as you can to winning, without actually winning. But I think Francis deserves a shot at the title next, after all he defeated Williams.

 

Riley: Speaking of which, Francis/Zenon is up next!

 

Stevens: Which should be interesting to say the least, but first here’s a brief reminder of some upcoming Pay Per View events.

[Guest BA_Baracus]

The slight roar of the Washington D.C. crowd can be heard briefly, as “Don’t Drag me Down” by Social Distortion lightly plays in the background, fading out and segwaying into the next bit of Smarks Wrestling Federation brand action! As the cameras come back from commercial break they pan over the audience, picking out members that flash signs pertaining to the next match scheduled… Alex Zenon versus Mak Francis! The crowd begins to show signs of life in anticipation of what should be a great contest. The camera cuts back to the announce booth, showing the home audience the dynamic duo of Mark Stevens, dressed in a button down shirt and baseball cap and Bobby Riley, showing off his silk suit like the ham that he is.

 

“I’d like to welcome you all back to the FILLED TO CAPACITY, MCI center here in Washington, DC!” begins Stevens tugging at his baseball cap. “I’m “Grand Slam” Mark Stevens,” continues the Heavy Hitter, “and I’m bringing you all the action with my partner in crime, Bobby Riley!”

 

“We’re partners Mark?” asks Riley in an incredulous tone. “I thought I was supposed to make fun of you,” starts Riley gesturing with his hands for added effect, “showing off my fantastic wit and wrestling accruement, while you rail off pointless jokes about Tom Flesher being superior?”

 

“I think you have the cues mixed up Bobby…” responds Stevens, as Riley just shrugs it off with a mumbled “my bad”. “BUT, on a wholly separate note… what a wonderful SWF pay per view we have seen so far tonight and we have much, MUCH more left to deliver!”

 

“Well, I’d hardly call anything involving the no longer “Poke” but still a freak, Mike Craven wonderful, but at least we got to see Judge Mental and the psycho Sigil go at it.” deadpans Bobby, with a semi sour expression on his face.

 

“Bobby,” starts Stevens after a sigh. “Mike has been busting his ass in the ring and putting on some of the best contests we’ve seen out of him and all you can do is crack jokes about his FORMER gimmick?”

 

“Yes,” Comes Riley’s quick answer. Stevens waits… and waits… and turns his head looking at Bobby and all that he hears is the dead air that they have been trained to avoid at all costs. A bird chirps, a pin drops and Riley just continues to stare at the camera, while Mark glares at him.

 

“That’s all you have to say?!” screams the Heavy Hitter.

 

“Yes…” replies Riley.

 

And Mark just gives up on that conversation. “That submission match was quite a dandy and the no disqualification match up for the US title between the champ,” Stevens takes a breath, “Danny Williams and the challenger Annie Eclectic was just as brutal as we thought it might be!”

 

“Danny doesn’t coddle his opponent be they man, women, or jobber!” says a chuckling Riley. “His anti drug is beating your ass and he don’t discriminate!”

 

“Quite right,” adds Stevens, taking a quick glance down at his notes, “but let’s move on to our next match on the card.”

 

“Don’t you want to talk about Tom’s SWF World Title shot in a STEEL CAGE?” mentions Riley in shock.

 

“Or Thugg trying to get his contract back against that sick puppy Andrew Loire, otherwise known as Bayawolf,” asks Mark taking a breath, “with King and Stubby as special referee and time keeper respectively!”

 

“Yeah, yeah, Sacred’s a sick puppy, but what about Tom being on the ‘Kings Road’?!” he questions again, whipping out his signed Tom Flesher glossy… from where you ask… you REALLY don’t want to know, do you?

 

Grand Slam just shakes his head. “If you ask me you’re the only sick puppy around here.” And if you listen real close you may just here Riley whistling “Endless love”. “And the match right after this Orochi versus Nathaniel Kibagami has a big affect on these two grapplers we’re about to see.”

 

“But what about-”

 

“Quite right,” interrupts Stevens, shutting Riley up before he can rail off another Flesher factoid, “what about our next match on the card!”

 

 

Bobby begrudgingly takes his cue from Stevens. “It’s the engine that never could Alex Zenon,” quips Riley causing Mark to just roll his eyes in response, “against the man that made ‘Franchisable’ a household phase Mak Francis!”

 

Stevens checks his notes once again. “These two have yet to meet in the SWF, but I believe that they once met in a six man tag in the Junior Leagues with the Franchise picking up the pin fall.”

 

“So that makes Mak 1-0 against him right?”

 

“I guess you could say that…”

 

“Mak’s undefeated against Zenon!” shouts Riley in glee. “That means he’s Francis’s whipping boy!”

 

“I’d say Alex getting bumped had more of an impact on that record.” reminds Stevens. “Anyways, both of these guys have all the talent in the world, but neither has quite lived up to their potential title wise. A win here could solidify either man.”

 

“How about we look at it this way?” asks Riley. “Z grew some talent out of god knows where but he’s still not up to Franchise level, case closed!”

 

And Mark no sells another inane Bobby Riley comment. “The former one letter wonder, Alex Zenon versus ‘The Franchise’ Mak Francis,” Stevens pauses, “it’ll be one hell of a match between two up and comers, that are looking to finally step up to the plate!”

 

Stevens looks at Riley… and Riley looks at Stevens… “Do I have too?” mumbles Bobby in a distraught tone. The Heavy Hitter nods vehemently and Riley sighs. “Is that a promise MARK?” he says obviously upset at having to cue Mark.

 

Grand Slam smiles at the statement. “That my friends, is a DAMN promise!”

 

As Riley and Stevens bicker about the lameness of that last cue the house lights in the MCI Center darken and the sound of electrical distortion hums through the air…

 

Two pillars of luminary virtue shine down on the entrance, appearing with the drums, and flashing like a rhythmic heartbeat.

 

*BOOM!*

 

The guitars drop, and the arena is filled with a kaleidoscope of colors that could make the Skittles, which is sponsoring this SWF event, taste the rainbow commercials look pathetic as each spotlight scans the crowd!

 

“The following contest is scheduled for ONE FALLLLLL!” Bellows the ever dressed to impress Funyon.

 

With the stage still a rainbow of colors, Alex Zenon slowly steps through the curtain, head down and in the mood to kick some ass. He flips his long hair out of his eyes, and surveys the crowd with a rye smirk, tugging the lapels of his jacket and getting a very solid pop, along with a few boos that get drowned out for the new Carnie!

 

 

 

 

“Driven by a strange desire…”

 

“I want… what I need”

 

 

 

 

Alex makes his way down the ramp in step with the beat and song as Funyon announces his arrival. “First, making his way to ringside, hailing from The Meadowlands in Trenton, New Jersey AND weighing in tonight at two hundred and twenty nine pounds, ladies and gentlemen, ALEX ZEEENOOOON!!”

 

 

 

 

”Shaking as the sex takes hold…”

 

“I lost… all control…”

 

 

 

 

Suddenly a blinding flash of light occurs… and as the camera refocuses Zenon has already made his way to the ring. Alex climbs up and stands on first and second turnbuckles, absorbing the crowd and finally discards his jacket to a ringside attendant, hopping into the ring and awaiting his opponent.

 

“And here he is folks Alex Zenon!” shouts Stevens, obviously proud. “Midnight Carnival member and quite possibly the most improved wrestler in the fed right now!”

 

“Ugh,” says Riley scrunching his face, “did you have to remind me of that Carnie reunion, I almost got the taste of vomit out of my mouth.”

 

“Well I’m just proud of him for getting back to his roots.” Mentions Stevens.

 

Riley looks to bring a rebuttal about just how much the carnival sucks and right on cue, the arena lights go out. Funyon gets ready and the crowd gets ready as the first riff of “Down with the Sickness” by Disturbed plays lowly over the PA system, getting louder as it is picking up in pace…

 

”And his OPPONENT,” yells Funyon over the Disturbed song.

 

 

** Are you ready? **

 

 

** Are You Ready?! **

 

 

 

 

 

 

** CAUSE THE FRANCHISE IS HERE!!!! **

 

The Smarktron flashes the words 'The Franchise' and that's followed by a blue and white photonegative image of Mak Francis. As the arena is re illuminated, 'The Franchise' comes out onto the stage receiving a somewhat healthy mixed reaction! Nowhere near the cheers of Zenon, but they can still be heard slightly mixed in with the overwhelming boos!

 

“Making his way to the ring, he hails from Philadelphia, PA and weighs in tonight at two hundred and twenty five pounds… “The Franchise” MAAAK FRAAAAAANCISsssssss!”

 

He slowly strolls down to ringside and climbs the ring steps before hopping onto the apron. Francis wipes his feet as he crosses the apron and enters the ring through the middle ropes. Mak then walks towards the middle and poses in the center of the ring with both his hands raised in the air! Zenon just stares at him from the corner as Francis finishes up his posing.

 

“And the Franchise looks ready for this match up,” starts Riley, “because he knows just what another trouncing of Zenon could mean!”

 

And Mark no sells his third comment of the night. “Tonight’s referee, Mark Hebner asks for the bell and this one on one match up is underway!”

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

Mak Francis and Alex Zenon turn the circle as looking for an advantage as the crowd awaits some kind of action. The self proclaimed Franchise takes the initiative, moving forward and Zenon follows suit bringing the two men together in a collar and elbow tie up. As the Jersey and Philly native jockey for position, Zenon slides into a side headlock grinding away on Mak’s face. A surprised Franchise can only back the former one letter up into the ropes hoping to shoot him off and break the hold.

 

“Alex takes control early and will not relent on that side headlock!” says Stevens.

“Mak’s just waiting for the right time to counter, Grand Spam!” counters Bobby Riley.

 

After backing into the ropes Francis pushes the former one letter wonder forward into a sprint. Zenon hits the far ropes and comes bounding back ducking under a back elbow attempt from the Franchise! Mak turns around as Alex hits the ropes again preparing for another run. This time Francis hooks his arms about the carnies waist and whips him upside down for a tilt-a-whirl backbreaker – but Z floats through and lands on his feet to the chagrin of the Franchise!

 

“Nice reversal by Alex there.” states Grand Slam as Zenon lifts Mak’s body onto his shoulders and uses the momentum he’s gained to flip the Franchise over in a fireman’s carry takedown! But Mak hits the mat feet first and takes off running hitting the ropes - but upon his return Z catches him with a roundhouse kick that puts him on his back! Alex is quickly on him for the first cover of the match! Mark Hebner slides into position to make the count…

 

ONE

 

 

TW-

 

No. Only a long one count against the Franchise as his back is arched up in the air.

 

“Francis is quick to get out of that pinning predicament there.” Says Stevens, getting ready to explain the move, “And a neck bridge is basically a standard bridge but instead of using your hands you rely on your neck to shoulder the weight. It gets your shoulders up but unless you’re properly trained it can expend a great deal of energy.”

 

“We saw him use the same move against Tom in his ICTV title match way back at Dissention,” mentions Riley, “and we’ve noticed Mak using his amateur background to his advantage a lot more in recent weeks.”

 

The crowd pops for the quick paced action as Zenon rolls off of Mak’s bridged form and gets back into his grapplers stance. Francis kips up to his feet and immediately has to absorb a knife edge chop to the chest, which he reciprocates.

 

“These guys have started out at a fantastic pace.” states Stevens in an amazed tone. “And it looks like they’ll keep it up as Zenon is quickly on Francis!”

 

“WHOO” shouts the crowd as Alex responses to Francis’s chop! Zenon scores a second and a third chop each to their own “WHOOO~!” as he now has Francis reeling! One more knife edge sends Mak into the corner and Zenon grabs his wrist launching him across the ring and towards the opposite corner!! Francis scores a reversal though stops mid run pulling on Z’s clasped right arm and locking it into place against his body!

 

“COULD IT BE?!” yells Riley.

 

Turning perpendicular to Z and with a wink Francis reaches under his leg and rolls him over onto his back!!

 

 

 

Francis tries to locks the cradle as Hebner makes the count…

 

 

“NOW THAT’S FRANCHISABLE GRAND SHILL!”

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

T

H

R

E

E

 

 

NO!! Alex Zenon breaks the cradle and rolls of his shoulders at the last second!

 

“Surprisingly Alex was caught completely off guard by that Peterson roll,” comments a surprised Grand Slam, “it’s like he didn’t even watch the tape of Orochi versus Francis!”

 

“I still don’t know how Z got out of that Franchisable move,” questions Riley in total disbelief, “Mak should have won it RIGHT THERE!”

 

Z is the first one to his feet and quickly picks the surprised Mak up to his feet in position for a belly to back suplex, lifting him into the air – but Francis rolls over the top and lands on his knees before rising up and grabbing Alex in a waist lock, dumping him head over heels in a German suplex!!

 

“What a filthy German by Mak,” starts Riley after jumping up in glee, “obviously Zenon hasn’t studied any film as Mak has gotten both a Peterson roll and countered the belly to back that Danny Williams kept trying to use on him!”

 

“Alex’s mind must be somewhere else right now…”

 

Confindecne abounds, Mak stalks over to Alex, picking him up… and making a cocky “hand-raise” gesture to the crowd! With a smirk, “The Franchise” grabs Alex’s leg and throws his arm over his shoulder, in a familiar set-up…

 

“The Franchise Tag?” Questions Mark Stevens. “He can’t possibly be thinking of going for it this early!”

 

Closing his eyes and readying his muscles for, Mak tenses… and then, to the surprise of almost everyone, snaps Alex over in a Fisherman’s Suplex! The crowd seems… indifferent to the move, most likely the residual effect from being stunned. Not knowing what else to do, the ref drops to the mat and counts!

 

ONE!

 

T—no! MAK collects himself off the mat, with Alex still in tow! Confident smile still locked firmly in place—through the mask of effort on his face—Mak keeps the Fiserman’s Suplex set-up hold in place, and snaps Alex over in a mirror of the same move! The crowd boos a little, as the ref drops to the mat!

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

T

H—no!

 

Once again, after a brief breather, Francis hauls Alex up to his feet, STILL keeping the Fisherman’s suplex set-up cinched in! But now, that confidence isn’t just plastered on his face, but is oozing out of his whole body! With a nod and a grin, Mak looks out the crowd, and takes a page out of a certain legends book…

 

“AND NOW WE GO TO SCHOOL!”

 

And with that, and hoping that the two rolling Fisherman’s Suplexes were enough to stun Zenon for the big one, Mak re-adjusts his grip on the Fisherman’s hold and pulls up Alex…!

 

…the crowd inhales…

 

…and Mak can’t hold, as Alex manages to fight his way out of a potential Franchise Tag! Undaunted, Mak grunts and tries again, picking up Alex—only to have him fight out of his finisher again, much to “The Franchise’s” dismay. The old cliché of “Third time’s the charm” running through his mind, Mak tries to get his potentially deadly finishing maneuver pulled off on Zenon…

 

…but fails, as Alex times his next move just right.

 

At the very moment Mak’s muscles tense to pull Zenon’s weight, Alex uses the arm slung around Francis’s shoulder to turn him, sending both clattering to the canvas in a heap! With Mak stunned, Alex works fast, using the foot that Mak’s still gripping in the Fisherman’s hold to shoot up and under his arm pit, and then repeating with his free leg! With Mak still trying to make sense of the whole scenario, Alex uses his feet to pivot Mak onto his back, and push him back wards into a roll! His shoulders down, the ref drops for the count, as the crowd screams!

 

ONE!

 

 

Instinctively, Mak brings his free feet up, trying to break the hold…

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

…and realizing this, Alex reaches back and grabs them hold tight, making any break out nigh impossible!

 

 

 

 

 

 

…just as the ref’s hand drops for…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREEEEEEE!!!

 

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

Surprised, Funyon scavenges for his mic… “Uh… the winner of this match, as a result of a pinfall… ALEX ZENON!”

 

At the commentary table, Riley is stunned. “What… what the hell was that!?”

 

Mark echoes his partners confusion. “I… I don’t know, Riley. Alex just SHOCKED Mak there for a pin!”

 

In the ring, Mak himself looks even MORE shocked than the broadcast co-horts, un able to believe he lost like THAT… and that quickly! Anger beginning to overcome the shock, he looks around for his opponent, and sees Alex Zenon exiting the ring and dropping from the ring apron to the floor. Tossing his hair out of his eyes, Alex turns up to look at Mak, and flashes a wink and a grin in very “I told you so” fasion. Mak gapes.

 

Riley seethes. “I’ll have you know something, Mark… this is NOT Franchiseable!”

 

“I can take that to the bank, I assume? Well, anyway, shock ending to this match aside, DO stick around, because Orochi vesus Nataniel Kibgami is NEXT!”

 

And with that, we starwipe to a commercial. A commercial? On PPV!? Oh, that crazy Stubby and his desperate marketing ploys!

[Guest BA_Baracus]

Alex Zenon and Mak Francis clear themselves from the ringside area as the cameras pan back, back, back to a wide shot of the entire crowd, as the voice belonging to “Grand Slam” Mark Stevens crackles to life.

 

“Alex Zenon and Mak Francis just put on an outstanding, semi-amateur clinic that I think the wrestling purists and the new-style wrestling fans will enjoy. However... our next match will not be technical, or fought amateur-style. If anything, it will be, as it has often been described with just one word: brutal.”

 

“Nathaniel Kibagami vs Orochi. Silent vs Thoth. Brother vs brother,” adds Bobby Riley. “For all the rivalry, and all the animosity between these two, they have only faced each other twice, both times in Hell in a Cell. And both times, Thoth emerged victorious.”

 

“Will history repeat itself? It’s way too early to gauge that. In the months since Genesis 3, both men have undergone radical changes to their character. Silent disappeared for a time, only recently resurfacing as Nathaniel Kibagami, his real name. And Thoth... well, those of you who have been watching know how many times he’s changed. To those that haven’t... it’s a long, long story. To cut it short, Thoth went nuts and became a dreanged shell named Orochi.”

 

“Yeah, and his theme music’s creepy too. It’s like, happy and pleasant... but instead, he’s crazy and violent! It doesn’t mesh well, Mark, and you know what I think when two things don’t mesh well.”

 

“Wasn’t your advice to wear boxers instead of briefs in that case?” says the Heavy Hitter, hesitantly. “For once... actually, as always, I wish you could stay on topic.” Stevens straightens out his tie. This match was made with one stipulation: A Last Man Standing match. The rules are simple. When a person is knocked down, he has until the count of ten to make a movement towards the aim of standing back up. After that, the match is over, and he is declared the loser.” He drops the tone of his voice as he looks directly at the camera. “There are no other rules.” After a brief pause, he regains his composure. “Despite a win over longtime rival Tom Flesher, and a run with the Intercontinental Television championship so far, Orochi has not had the best of luck, losing to Mak Francis recently, and to Kibagami himself in a three way dance, though it took the combined efforts of two men to finish that latter task. This match should be straight up one on one, and from the landscape of things, it’s highly unlikely that anyone is going to interfere in this match. A one on one contest that will be marred by a streak of brutality... we have an ambulance standing by in case it is needed...

 

“What about an undertaker?” asks Bobby.

 

“No, my slightly mentally retarded broadcast colleague, Mark Calloway is not going to be here.”

 

“Hey, if you had listened to my question-” but Stevens interrupts. “No, Riley, I’m sure that nothing you can or will ever say will be of value.” He turns with a smirk towards the camera. “Let us not forget, that this match does have Orochi’s ICTV championship on the line, but that seems insignificant compared to the human drama that is about to take place in this ring. Likely, this is the last time that Yuuichiro Kaesame and Nathaniel Kibagami will ever face each other one on one, so this should be one for the ages.”

 

The camera angle changes to a sky shot of the ring, with a tuxedo-clad Funyon (he owns his tuxes, he doesn’t rent) announcing the stipulations.

 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, the following contest, which is for the S-W-F Intercontinental Television Championship... is a Last... Man... Standing match!” He pauses, his arms folded, as the crowd cheers. “The match can only end when one of the wrestlers is knocked down, and cannot answer the ensuing ten count!”

 

“And I’ve got pills for the pain (Pills for the pain)

Deep down inside I’ve got a chilling refrain (I’m going insane)

These crazy thoughts keep running ‘round in my brain

They’re leading me to places decorated in flames

Dec-dec-dec-dec-dec-decorated in flames...”

 

Red, thin pyro explodes as the arena becomes decorated in red light, as “Decorated” by Crazy Town announces the arrival of the challenger. “Introducing first, being accompanied to the ring by Angel, from Phoenix, Arizona, weighing in at 242 pounds... the challenger... NATHANIEL.... KI-BA-GA-MIIII!

 

Kibagami comes out, Angel at his side, an arm around his, all in a mighty billowing of fog. But before Kibagami can begin to walk down the ramp, he stops, and turns toward Angel. He leans down, and says something to her, something that cannot be heard over the cameras. She grimaces and frowns, then shouts at him, “Why?” Kibagami droops, shaking his head, then with a pleading look in his eyes, he leans closer to her, saying something else. With tears in her eyes, she nods, running out to the back, disappearing behind the curtain.

 

“I think Nathaniel Kibagami just sent Angel to the back... that’s a smart decision. I don’t think he wants her to get in the way, or get involved...”

 

“He’s just afraid his woman’s gonna get her ass kicked! Or maybe she’s afraid of the sight of blood. What a wussy girl.”

 

“I don’t think there’s any shame in not wanting to watch your boyfriend risk his life for a fight.”

 

“Well, if my boyfriend were in a fight, I’d want to watch. It’d get me hot. ...AW CRAP!”

 

Stevens sighs meaningfully, as Kibagami slowly walks the ramp, his steps meaningful as well. Heel, toe. Heel, toe. Like e’s trying to remember each and every step as an individual. With a right to live.

 

Tonight, he has to prove his right to live as well.

 

“Don'na tokidatte

Tatta hitori de

Unmei wasurete

Ikitekita no ni

Totsuzen no hikari no naka, megasameru

Mayonaka ni”

 

A washing white light replaces the red as the ominously light and loving ballad, “Hikari”, by Hikaru Utada starts to play. The white is so bright... every light in the arena must be on.

 

“Shizuka ni deguchi ni tatte

Kurayami ni hikari o ute”

 

“Orochi is sure taking his time,” says Stevens. “Is he trying to play mindgames or something?”

 

Imadoki yakusoku nante

Fuan ni saseru dake kana

Negai o kuchini shitai dake sa

Ku ni mo shôkai suru yo

Kitto umaku ikuyo

 

And after what seems too long, Orochi appears. Belt around his waist, arms outstretched. But his head is not raised upward, he is not grinning. He is staring a hole through Nathan Kibagami, who doesn’t seem to notice because he is doing exactly the same.

 

Don'na tokidatte

Zutto futari de

Don'na tokidatte

Soba ni iru kara

Kimi to iu hikari ga watashi o mitsukeru

Mayonaka ni

 

“And, his opponent, from Aechiba, Japan, weighing in at 245 pounds, he is the S-W-F Intercontinental Television Champion... OROOOOOOCHI!”

 

Orochi walks with his gaxe focused on his opponent. He is oblivious to the environment around him. If a fan threw a drink that caught him in the cheek, he would not notice. He grasps the steel pole, his pale hand coming into focus with its cold form, sliding around it as he ascends the portable metal steps. The stands in the corner clear across from his brother, the light from the title in his eyes. He reaches behind him and undoes the straps of the belt, letting it drop to the ground.

 

The belt is not important. Each man takes one step towards each other, and then stops. What is holding them back from tearing each other apart? They are waiting for the bell. The match would not have honor if they did not wait for the bell. Orochi drags a foot across the ring. Kibagami flexes his wrists.

 

Thoth and Silent prepare for another battle.

 

*DING DING DING*

 

Each man is hesitant to make the first move. Orochi slides his foot ever so slowly towards Kibagami, hoping he won’t notice the ground he is gaining toards the center of the ring, and ergo, the advantage of position. Too bad, then, that Kibagami picks up on it and starts to close position rapidly, landing a swift kick to the gut and starting things off. He follows up with an elbow across the neck, and then an Irish whip. Orochi reverses, and catches Kibagami on his rebound with a drop toe hold, which segues, as it usually does in Orochi’s offense into a front chancery headlock. Of course, Kibagami knows what to expect. Even with his weak neck, he’s not fazed, pushing up with his hands and ramming Orochi into the turnbuckle. He extricates his head from Orochi’s grasp, and starts ramming his shoulder into the exposed, vulnerable torso laying before him.

 

“Nathaniel Kibagami taking care not to save his energy and stamina in the early goings, really getting his all into those shoulders he’s throwing. I’d be careful; a ciritcal mistake in the early goings could spell defeat later on.”

 

Kibagami backs off and examines his handiwork. Orochi is slumped in the corner, supported only by his arms around the top rope. His breathing is a bit ragged, but he manages to look up at his brother, and smirk. Peeved, he charges in with a clothesline, but Orochi gets his head down in time, missing the clothesline, and causing Kibagami to end up in the corner. Orochi makes his move, thrusting a pointy elbow into his foe’s broad back, causing Kibagami to collapse on his knees momentarily. He fights his way back up out of necessity, but Orochi presses his advantage, palming the back of his brother’s head, and spinning it round, jumping forward and slamming it into the canvas. He gets up and looks down at the prone Kibagami, as the referee starts his count...

 

And stops it. Kibagami is up before the referee can even count one.

 

“Ouch!” remarks Riley. “The referee couldn’t even use one of his number words! That’s gotta hoit!”

 

“Hoit? Riley, if I’m not mistaken, you’re not really that ethnic. You have to say ‘Hurt.’”

 

Kibagami looks up at Orochi, and shakes his head as he gets upright. He wags his finger just a little bit, which infuriates the Lightbringer. He charges in with an overhead punch, which Kibagami blocks and holds on to, as he starts to land a series of kicks on Orochi’s midsection, which has already been set up with the shoulders he threw earlier. He finishes with a flourish, throwing two hook kicks that send Orochi careening back into the corner. He reaches down, and grabs a handful of white, powdery hair. He rears back, giving himself some room to meaneuver, and leaps up. For a moment, the crowd is confused, silent. But no later than that, does he lift up a knee, and drive it into the back of Orochi’s head, knocking him directly into the corner, his face bouncing off the top turnbuckle before resting there again.

 

“What a skillfully executed Shining Wizard!” exclaims Stevens, as Kibagami peels Orochi out of the corner and forcefully tosses him towards the center of the ring, at which point the referee starts his count.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

And Orochi sits up suddenly, then slows down. He pushes a hand to his forehead, feeling the throbbing, and then trying to reduce it. Kibagami offers him no respite, pulling him up, and forcing him to emit an audible “Oof” as the air is driven from his lungs as a result of a trio of vicious knees that double him over.

 

“Nathan Kibagami continuing that body punishment. While it might be easiest to try to go for a head injury to try and knock him unconscious, Kibagami is taking the long, possibly less risky road by weakening Orochi’s center of gravity. Enough of that, and Orochi will be to weak to put up any sort of offense or defense, and Kibagami will be able to get a ten-count.”

 

“That said, Stevens, it’s going to be a long time before that happens, because, like my body, Orochi is built for punishment.”

 

That statement notwithstanding, Nathaniel Kibagami is in clear control of the match. Seemingly picking and choosing from a list of moves in his mind, he grabs a waistlock and lfits back, Germaning Orochi... right onto his head! The crowd winces and shudders, and even Stevens says, “So much for the no head hits idea.”

 

Kibagami gets up and backs off. The ref starts counting again...

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

FOUR!

 

FIVE!

 

And again, Orochi picks himself up to his hands and knees, his head dangling and drooping down as if he had no ability to hold it up. Kibagami smirks, stomping away on Orochi. For all the force of the blows, and the viciousness behind them, Orochi does not collapse. His arms stay strong, holding his frame. Orochi lets his arms go of his own will, rolling over onto his back. His brother raises his foot, ready to drop it, but Orochi is ready, grabbing the foot and twisting the ankle, forcing Kibagami onto his back. Like a hungry animal, Orochi mounts him and starts swinging his fists to and fro across his brother’s countenance. Kibagami can do little but cover up. Orochi gets up, and runs to the ropes suddenly. Kibagami, thinking he’s escaped the brunt of it, gets to his feet. Off the rebound, Orochi leaps up, his momentum already carrying him forward, and leans back, extending his llegs like a lariat. The former Silent takes it right across the chin and goes down fluidly. Orochi pulls Kibagami up and hooks him in a front facelock. With a punctuated stamp of his feet, he heaves him over in a snap suplex, and then finds himself floating over. Pins are futile in this match, so he quickly gets up and drops an elbow on the sternum. He retreats to the corner, taking sanctuary in its boundaries. The count begins.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

FOU- And Kibagami not only gets up, but kippups. Orochi can only shake his head in disbelief as he pushes himself out of the corner and starts to bring his fist up. He strikes Kibagami across the cheek, only to find that he strikes right back. They trade blows, being knocked back and forth, but remaining on their feet. Even as their faces, their heads, their torsos are pummeled and buffeted this way and that, their feet hold like magnets in the ring. The sweat flies off of them like rainwater from a tree, but neither man budges an inch. To do so would be like losing the match before the match was ever lost.

 

“Kibagami doesn’t ever punch, but it seems like today, he’s making an exception. He couldn’t have picked a better time,” remarks the Heavy Hitter, using a keen eye and a sharp memory to see the slight nuances in each fighter’s repretoire, and when slight changes are made to each.

 

“This entire match is about pride. Whoever gives up their pride first loses... but is going to be well enough to fight another day. The winner... may end up not being able to wrestle anymore.”

 

Kibagami, seeing that this back-and-forth could continue into eternity, decides to end it by blocking one of the punches, locking the arm, and using Orochi’s shoulder as a pivot point for the rest of his body, swings him onto the mat. He keeps him there, locking in a reverse armbar. Orochi grunts, slapping at his shoulder, trying to find some way out. He swings his feet around, getting behind Kibagami. The former Silent makes a mistake, deciding to leave the hold locked in. Orochi gets enough vertical presence to overpower him, subduing him with a sleeperhold. He gets him to fall forward onto his stomach, then locks his arms and legs, and leans back. “Mexican Surfboard!” calls Stevens... but the move is not yet complete. As Orochi exhales, he lets go his the arms, but quickly locks on a Dragon Sleeper... while the Surfboard is still in place.

 

“Oh my... god! Nathaniel Kibagami’s back is bent like the letter U! And what’s worse, he can’t submit! The only way he’s getting out of this is when Orochi decides he is!”

 

Kibagami stifles his screams as best he can while his back is being tortured in the Mexican Dragon Sleeper. Orochi yells in his ear as he steels his grip, but no one can make out the words, perhaps not even Nathaniel himself. Maybe not even Orochi himself. Seconds tick by. Soon, a full minute has passed. Finally, after about eighty seconds total, Orochi lets go, and Kibagami falls to the side, breathing hard. Orochi stands a few feet away, watching intently as the refree starts counting.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

Orochi starts pacing back and forth, impatiently. He keeps his eyes trained on the body of Kibagami, which is breathing... but not making any effort to get up.

 

FOUR!

 

FIVE!

 

SIX!

 

Orochi’s body can no longer handle the tension contained within. He screams, “GET UP!”, a pleading scream that seems to be more panicked than angry.

 

“Is it just me, or does Orochi not want this match to end just yet?”

 

“It was a vicious submission hold, yes, but it didn’t feel like a match-ending maneuver.”

 

SEVEN!

 

EI- And Kibagami slaps the mat with his hand. Hard. A signal to let Orochi know he’s not finished yet. The crowd pops, and Orochi shuffles his feet. The referee stalls his count, but prepares to start it again... and Kibagami pushes up to his knees! That’s enough for the count to be broken. Orochi approaches, and hooks a loose headlock to pull Kibagami up. Some European uppercuts follow, also loose in nature, that serve as a transition to get Kibagami into the corner. Orochi backs off to the opposite corner, bracing himself against the turnbuckles in order to push off at maximum velocity. Kibagami’s eyes are only half-open, and it’s questionable whether he knows exactly where he is... or more importantly, where his brother is, but his head seems to pick up at the pounding thumps of Orochi’s footsteps as he starts to careen across the ring at a breakneck pace, throwing caution to the wind to inflict the maximum possible damage. Biting his lower lip, he leaps up into the air once again, sticking a knee out to collide with the frontal extremities of Kibagami. His leg is pushed back as the knee smashes into his nose. Orochi bounces away as Kibagami raises a hand to his face, feeling the compression and the ache in his nose. He stumbles forward, right into a snap-mare takeover from Orochi. The crowd starts buzzing, for they know exactly what comes next. Orochi backpedals into the ropes perfectly fluidly, and slingshots off of them at breakneck pace once again, the definition of his fighting style. Breakneck. Either his or his opponent’s, it doesn’t really matter. He leaves the safety and comfort of his feet once again, sticking out a knee once again, aiming for the back of Kibagami’s head, in fact, right at the point where the skull and spinal cord meet.

 

Nathaniel Kibagami tilits his head to the side. Orochi flies over harmlessly, to a loud cheer and a few laughs, to boot. He scrambles to get to his feet... a shart contrast with his brother, who rises stoically, trying to push the aches and throbs across various parts of his body to the external. He lays in a boot to the gut, again focusing on the torso, the center of gravity. A Shotei palm strike to the back... and then another. Orochi collapses down upon the mat, but Kibagami continues smashing his outstretched palms into him over and over, until finally, in a small defeat of pride, Orochi bails to the outside. His legs have trouble holding his wobbly upper body, but he seems to manage as best he can. Kibagami climbs between the ropes, and takes a perch on the apron. He stalks Orochi half-heartedly, aware that his prey isn’t in the best shape at the moment. He flexes his knees and leaps, raising his arms overhead for a double axhandle. Orochi turns around just in time to see his brother closing distance rapidly. He reacts on instinct, bringing a leg up and around, catching Kibagami in his exposed stomach and whipping him around, in midair, into the steel guardrail, which holds fast against his back. The section of the crowd nearby looks in shock and amazement at the direction Kibagami’s body just flew. He lands sitting, slumped.

 

“Holy... crap! Did you... see that? One roundhouse kick put Nathaniel Kibagami right on his ass... like a pinball!” Riley squeals with glee at the viciousness of the move.

 

“God... Christ, Riley. You have a lot of sick fetishes. Judging from what I know, the thing that probably turns you on the most is anal bleeding.”

 

Dead silence, mercifully, washes like the tide over the announce table, as Orochi pulls Kibagami off of the guardrail and lets him hang over the apron. The Lightbringer then stands on the apron himself, charging forward... and drives his knees into the back of Kibagami’s neck!

 

“What a set of unorthodox maneuvers... necessity truly is the mother of invention.”

 

Orochi heaves Kibagami back into the ring, and rolls back in himself, as the count starts again.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

FOUR!

 

And Kibagami is already sitting up. “What the hell...?” asks Stevens rhetorically. “It looked like his back was destroyed... and he gets up at four. That’s... sick.”

 

Sick, perhaps... motivated, yes. Before Orochi can react, Kibagami tackles him at the feet. and climbs up atop him, striking him back and forth. Orochi tries to fight, but Kibagami’s fists have hate and fury behind them. The fact that he doesn’t use his fists very often is a testament that when he does use them, they are so much more powerful than the average punch. He finishes with one direct palm blow to Orochi’s forehead which puts him down on the ground. The referee starts to count, but Kibagami halts him with a finger as he goes up top...

 

“I think Kibagami is going for the Tatsudoshi... can he hit it?”

 

Kibagami steadies himself on the top rope, his knees shaking and wobbly, but he stands tall, and spins his body through the air, trying to end the match early...

 

But Orochi rolls out of the way! Kibagami slams his stomach against the canvas and Orochi gets up, locks a pump-handle, and says to him, “I have had enough of these games. Feel pain!” With that, he hoists his brother in a pump-handle and slams him back down... he starts to go up top, facing away from the crowd... but suddenly, running down the ramp, it’s Angel!

 

“What’s she doing here? Nathaniel sent her back so she wouldn’t get hurt...”

 

Orochi sees Angel run down the ramp... and reacts, leaping forward and turning around in midair. He stops his rotational inertia by using her head, and then... and then... delivers the Scum Gale. Orochi looks down... and seems... remorseful.

 

It all happened so fast, didn’t it? Orochi looked down, in horror. Kibagami got up, and saw what Orochi had done. Orochi, for one moment, he wasn’t Orochi anymore. Maybe he was Thoth. He sure was Yuuichiro Kaesame. He ran away, up the ramp. He looked away, back at Kibagami, his brother, tears in his eyes. And Kiabagmi looks back... what is he feeling? Is he truly angry?

 

Kibagami hops out of the ring and tends to Angel as the referee crosses his arms. Eventually, he rules the match a no-contest. But Kibagami is not affected. There are more important stories to tell.

[Guest BA_Baracus]

“The following contest is scheduled for ONE FALL!”

 

Funyon’s voice blasts over the PA system as he prepares those in attendance and those watching on Pay-Per-View for more bone-crushing SWF action. Having seen the montage, the fans are standing and buzzing with anticipation of what very well could be the Hville Thugg’s last match ever.

 

“ALL ABOARD…AH HAH HAH HAH!!”

 

The loud boos of the crowd are not far behind the voice of Ozzy Osborne, and the stage explodes into a wall of pyro as crimson sparks shoot skyward. “Crazy Train” truly begins, and somehow, magically, the Suicide King stands atop the stage, dawning his brand new referee’s shirt complete with “SK” logo and “Are you a gambling man?” catchphrase. Not to leave his adoring fans waiting too long, King strolls confidently to the ring while the fans in attendance boo him back to Dayton.

 

(Funyon) – Introducing the special referee for this contest…former SWF World Heavyweight Champion and the SWF Deputy Commissioner…THE SUICIIIIIIDDDDEEEEE KIIIIIIIIIINNNGGG!!!

 

(Stevens) – What a crock…how is Thugg supposed to get through this match?

 

(Riley) – I’m pretty certain that’s the point Mark…for Thugg NOT to get though this match. But, in my mind, this is as fair as you can expect it to be considering that Thugg was not asked to return…Stubby doesn’t want him to return…and all he’s been is a nuisance since he has come back to the SWF.

 

(Stevens) – Yeah, but in your mind, you believe that…oh…forget it.

 

The fans continue to boo King as he slides into the ring and circles about to ensure everyone benefits from a good look at perfection.

 

(Riley) – Something wrong Mark? It’s not like you to let one slide like that…

 

(Stevens) – I’m just not in the mood…I’m trying to do my job…You’re the color man, I’m the play-by-play…I’m supposed to call the action…you’re supposed to make the jokes…

 

(Riley) – Couldn’t think of a good comeback, eh?

 

(Stevens) – No.

 

 

Darkness.

 

The arena is plunged into pitch, leaving many people without sight. A bright white beam shoots down from the rafters, casting a circle of light on the entranceway, as Nevermore's "The Heart Collector" begins to play, and a light mist comes over the stage. The fans let forth a collective boo from the depths of their souls as Bayawolf slowly walks out, his head down, decked out in his black trench coat.

 

(Funyon) – Now…introducing first…weighing in at two hundred and thirty-one pounds…He is…BAAAAYYYAAAAAWWOOOOLLLFFFF!!

 

”To see the actor without tears

Dark rivers carve the years between the lines of self control

In my psychotic karmic fear, I own your tears anyway

And I am you and we are not afraid

 

And we won't be here for long

The heart collector sings his song that's slowly boiling over

 

Nevermore to feel the pain

The heart collector sang

And I won't be feeling hollow for so long

Nevermore to feel the pain

The words fall out like fire

Just believe when you can't believe anymore

 

The stage is empty now

I hope we hold and cannot allow

the corrupt eclectic takes his fatal bow...”

 

The fans are still exceedingly unfriendly to Bayawolf, who begins down the ramp, hiding his face and mask from the crowd. The light follows him as he does, but as he climbs into the ring, everything returns to normal.

 

(Stevens) – And here is the high-flying Bayawolf. I don’t know what’s going on with this guy…he’s got tons of talent…extremely athletic…he had won the world title and finally broken through here in the SWF. And then…just like that…he leaves again, only to come back with this mask and a name from his dark past. I don’t get it?

 

(Riley) – Hey…the man has always been kind of dark and…you know…a mystery. With some of the things that have happened in his life, can you really blame him for having some emotional issues.

 

(Stevens) – No…I guess not…well still, I think…wait…what the hell is he doing?

 

Inside the ring, Bayawolf has actually sat down in the center of the ring, seemingly from the weight of the crowd’s boos. He head hands exceptionally low this evening, leaving all to wonder what the hell could possible be going through this man’s head right now.

 

(Riley) – Hmmm…strange.

 

(Stevens) – Don’t think I’ve ever seen someone sit down and hang their head in the ring before…kind of like he’s depressed.

 

King walks over to Bayawolf, as his music comes to a faded close, and attempts to lure the springy competitor to his feet, but Bayawolf quickly snatches his arm away as if he’d much rather sit and pout. While King’s words cannot be heard, his hand motions would indicate that he wants Wolf to get up because his opponent will soon be upon him…

 

(Riley) – He’s always depressed…but this is strange, even for him.

 

Suddenly, King jumps back as Bayawolf shoots him a hard glance as if to say, “FINE…Let the truth be told!” Wolf leaps to his feet and demands a microphone, and before Funyon can protest, Bayawolf has snatched the mic from the ring announcer…

 

(Stevens) – Well, oddly enough, it looks like we’re gonna find out exactly what’s on his mind…not sure if we really want to know though…

 

(Wolf) – You boo me? You BOO me?

 

As should be expected, Bayawolf’s sarcastic questions are met with a thunderous BOO from the crowd, which causes Wolf to hang his head once more.

 

(Wolf) – I see…is it because I’m not some fat ass black guy? Is it because I don’t speak Spanish? Or is it because my name is not Edwin or Mark?!?

 

Bayawolf’s voice starts to get louder and angrier with each statement, as the fans continue to boo, albeit not quite as loud so they can hear the enigma speak.

 

(Wolf) – Everything I’ve done…everything I’ve been through…you people couldn’t care less. All you care about is how drunk you’re gonna get tonight, and when will Thugg waddle his fat ass down here and shut me up. You cheer a man that spent his entire career despising YOU and all your heros! How quickly you people forget…it was just over 7 months ago that your Hville Thugg ended the career of your biggest hero, Xstasy! A man he called his friend…a man you loved! You cheer him?? AND YOU FUCKING BOO ME?!? I was the only person who saw Thugg for what he truly was…and I went out and took him out! You people should have been happy…he was the most hated man in the federation…you all hated him…hated him with a passion…AND I TOOK HIM OUT!!

 

(Stevens) – Pfft…it’s not like you were a big part in…

 

(Riley) – Shut up Mark.

 

(Wolf) – I stopped Thugg’s rampage on this federation…and does that make you people happy?? NO! You cheer him and you still boo me!! I’ve done more for this business than anyone in this federation…and you still cheer Thugg over me?? THUGG??? He’s nothing but a fat ass homie from the hood…or whatever…and 7 months ago…you hated him!! I touch him, and now he’s the greatest thing since sliced bread, and I’m still hated!!

 

(Stevens) – Oh, cry me a river man…let’s just get to the damn match.

 

(Wolf) – Well…I’m going to show all of you something that will prove to you once and for all what kind of man the Hville Thugg is. Underneath this mask is the truth…the truth about what Thugg is…about who Thugg is…and the Truth must be told!

 

Wolf hands the microphone back to Funyon as he reaches behind his head to untie his mask and show the world the horror that lies beneath…

 

 

“MUWHAHAHAHA!”

 

An electric guitar blares of the speakers, starting the introduction to DMX’s “Who We Be”, as the entire arena explodes into a frenzy of cheers. The fans leap from their seats and make as much noise as humanly possible, despite the fact that no human form has been seen on the stage as of yet. Bayawolf nearly jumps out of his skin as he directs his attention to the stage, temporarily forgetting about taking his mask off, which would have been pointless at this stage as no one was paying him any attention.

 

"They don't know..."

"Who we be."

 

"They don't know..."

"Who we be."

 

“What they don’t know is…”

 

BOOM!

 

A huge explosion leaves a wall of fire across the stage in its wake, leaving only a small path in the center, as the fans lose their minds and the first verse of the song begins. In the path left by the wall of fire, a dark figure creeps forward, a black towel over his head (like Tazz), and as the figure makes his way to the part of the path where the fire is on both sides of him, Funyon makes his announcement.

 

(Funyon) – And his opponent…weighing in at three-hundred and eighty-six pounds, from RIGHT HERE IN WASHINGTON, DC!!!

 

The fans go absolutely apeshit for their homegrown hero…

 

(Funyon) – HE IS A 2-TIME FORMER SWF WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION…HE HAS RETURNED…THE ANGRY BLACK MAN…THE H-VIIIIILLLLEEEE THUUUUUUGGGGGG!!!!

 

(Stevens) – There he is!! One of the greatest to ever step in the ring…he’s from right here in the nation’s capitol…oh what an ovation for the Hville Thugg!!!

 

Too bad Bayawolf doesn’t feel the same way, as he stands in the ring absolutely fuming! It only takes a second for his anger to reach a peak level, and being so enraged with Thugg stealing his spotlight yet again, Bayawolf jumps the ropes and bolts up the ramp to meet Thugg halfway!

 

(Stevens) – And there goes Bayawolf…wasting no time!

 

(Riley) – He’s sick and tired of Thugg stealing his moments…he was just about to show us his face, but that jackass ruined yet another moment for him.

 

Thugg, not aware of Bayawolf’s charge goes to toss his towel into the crowd, but is stopped short by a hard right from Bayawolf. The punch fazes the big man very little, but it’s just enough to allow Wolf to drill another hard right into Thugg’s face.

 

(Stevens) – I must say…Bayawolf is definitely not happy with Thugg, and he’s gonna let him know about it! Although, slugging away with punches is definitely not the best way to get back at the nearly four hundred pound giant. Believe me, I would know…

 

Bayawolf’s third punch lands, seemingly doing nothing more than distracting Thugg from counteracting the onslaught. Bayawolf, losing control of his anger, drives a shoulder into Thugg’s abdomen and tries to drive the big man to the ground…to no avail. Thugg rears up a right hand and drops a huge forearm directly onto the middle of Bayawolf’s back, dropping the much smaller man to his knees.

 

(Stevens) – Bayawolf had better get control of his temper tonight, or it’s gonna be a short contest.

 

(Riley) – I’ll agree with you there…Bayawolf has to come out with a plan…he can’t just brawl.

 

Bayawolf tries to get to his feet, only to be quickly sent back to one knee with another hard forearm to the back, which is quickly followed by another forearm that sends Wolf down onto this his stomach atop the steel ramp. The fans pop for Thugg’s manhandling of Bayawolf, and Thugg gives them a glance before dragging Bayawolf up to his feet for the journey to the ring where Suicide King waits in an annoyed stance.

 

(Stevens) – And back to the ring they head, and we’ll get this match underway…officially.

 

(Riley) – Now, tell me how it’s fair that Thugg has an unfair advantage going into the ring?

 

(Stevens) – Are you smoking crack?? Bayawolf attacked HIM…Thugg was just defending himself…He’s innocent here. Wow…never thought I’d say THAT in my lifetime.

 

Thugg slams Bayawolf face first onto the ring apron before rolling the two hundred thirty-one pounder into the ring. Bayawolf rolls to the center of the ring and quickly gets to his feet, while Thugg steps up to the ring apron.

 

 

“Lights out! Guerilla Radio!!”

 

“Turn that shit up!”

 

“Lights out! Guerilla Radio!!”

 

“Turn that shit up!”

 

(Stevens) – GODDAMMIT! I forgot he was coming down here for this…

 

(Riley) – Wow…I’d think you’d be happy to see our glorious commissioner because if it weren’t for him, this fed wouldn’t be anything like it is today.

 

The fans boo their collective heads off as the SWF commissioner, Stubby McWeed, steps out onto the stage, a hallow smirk on his face and a swagger in his step. Meanwhile, Thugg goes to enter the ring via a step over the top rope, but never makes it as Bayawolf charges and delivers a rather stiff shoulder block that normally wouldn’t faze the giant. However, given Thugg’s state of unbalance, the blow knocks him off the apron and back down to the floor. Thugg lands feet first, but stumbling, while Stubby slowly walks towards ringside, spending more time watching than actually walking.

 

(Stevens) – Happy? Why would I be happy to see Stubby? He’s the one who fixed up this ridiculous match. Talk about being fair…how is Thugg supposed to prevail with these odds?

 

(Riley) – Maybe that’s the point…Thugg needs to prove he’s up to the task of working in this federation.

 

(Stevens) – I think that’s absolute bull sh…HOLY CRAP!!

 

The cause of Stevens’s bellow causes the arena to pop with excitement as Bayawolf takes a running start towards the near ropes, dives over the top, and lands with a cross body on top of Thugg, causing both men to crash to the floor. Bayawolf rolls off of Thugg and holds his stomach in pain, while Thugg lays on his back, with similar pain…all the while, Stubby still makes his way to ringside.

 

(Stevens) – What a daring move from Bayawolf!! The veteran certainly doesn’t lack in heart, I’ll tell you that. He’s taking it right to the former SWF champion!

 

(Riley) – You said it! Ooooo! Here comes Stubby…I can’t wait…

 

Bayawolf comes to first, having taken the least of the fall, and crawls over to Thugg, who lays on his back blinking his eyes. Bayawolf climbs atop Thugg to mount him, and delivers stiff right hands to Thugg’s head, while Stubby approaches the group with a confident smile. Stubby has a good chuckle before heading over to the announce table, where a seat between Mark and Riley awaits him.

 

(Riley) – SIR!

 

(Stubby) – Bobby…

 

(Stevens) – Commissioner McWeed…

 

(Stubby) – Mark…

 

(Stevens) – Thought you had forgotten about your commentating duties tonight…

 

(Stubby) – Forgotten? Or hoped I would forget? Don’t try to play me for a fool Mark.

 

Bayawolf climbs off of Thugg, who turns onto his stomach in an attempt to get to his feet. Bayawolf aids him in his goal, by grabbing a handful of cornrows and dragging the much, much larger Thugg towards the ring once more.

 

(Stevens) – Well, let me ask you this then…How do you think this match you’ve set up here tonight is fair, with King as referee and you here at ringside as well?

 

(Riley) – MARK!! How dare you?

 

Closer to the action, Bayawolf drags Thugg, but is suddenly on the receiving end of a very hard open-hand slap to the chest as Thugg turns the tide, throws him against the ring apron, and…

 

SLAP!

 

Oooo!

 

Bayawolf cringes from the blow, holding his chest in pain, and Thugg rolls him into the ring.

 

(Stubby) – No…it’s ok Bobby…I’ll answer his question. First, let me say that I’m only down here as a spectator and to add some much needed flair to the play by play…something that has been lacking in recent weeks.

 

As sarcasm drips off of Stubby’s comment, Thugg opts to roll into the ring after Bayawolf, as to not repeat the same mistake as before. Bayawolf is to his feet quickly, and on Thugg before the big man can get to his feet. Bayawolf drops a knee into Thugg’s head as he attempts to get to his feet.

 

(Stubby) – Secondly…I need to have an experienced ring technician in there for this match for the safety of the one person who DOES have a contract with the SWF.

 

Thugg fights through a second Bayawolf knee to get to his feet, and Wolf grabs a hold of Thugg’s arm, and for some reason tries to whip the big man. As expected, Thugg easily reverses this whip into a whip of his own. Bayawolf bounds off the far ropes and heads back towards Thugg full steam. HVT goes for a huge clothesline, but Bayawolf easily ducks the blow and bounces off the near ropes, gaining ever more speed. Thugg turns around and instinctively lifts his leg for a big boot, but, again, Bayawolf ducks underneath and zooms towards the far ropes! Now, Bayawolf is absolutely cutting the air as he careens back towards the turning Thugg. However, Bayawolf must not have had a move ready, because he runs right into a huge Thugg Powerslam!!!

 

(Stubby) – You see…

 

(Stevens) – OH!!! Huge powerslam from Thugg! I felt that down here…good God! Hook of the leg…

 

King drops down and delivers what is certainly a reluctant count, if not slow as hell…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TW……NO!

 

(Stevens) – No…Bayawolf kicks out…but, if you ask me, that count was a little slow.

 

(Riley) – Didn’t look slow to me…

 

(Stubby) – Hmmmm…before I was so rudely interrupted…

 

(Stevens) – Hey. I’m sorry, but there’s a match going on…

 

Thugg gets up with a glaring look at King, who holds his hands out with a smirk as if to say, “What? He kicked out.” Thugg, probably guessing that Wolf would have kicked out anyway, decides not to pursue this particular argument with King. Instead, he gets to his feet while Bayawolf holds his back in pain from the huge powerslam.

 

(Stubby) – Anyway…I don’t want Thugg in there with one of my guys without some protection. He’s not under contract, so he could do anything he wants out there, and we can’t do anything about it. He could intentionally injure Bayawolf, and I would have no legal recourse…so you see…I had to put someone out there that knows what’s going on.

 

Thugg grabs Bayawolf and drags him to his feet, but the lightweight drives a hard palm strike under Thugg’s chin, snapping the big man’s head backwards. Thugg recoils from the shot, and while Thugg grabs his chin, Bayawolf does the smartest thing he could can do…he bounces off the near ropes, dives, and drives his shoulder into Thugg’s knee!

 

(Stevens) – Hmmm…convenient. Anyway…back to the action…Bayawolf with a smart move. Shoulder block to Thugg’s knee, and you’ve gotta like the idea to take out Thugg’s vertical base.

 

(Riley) – Did you expect anything less from a vet like Bayawold…?

 

(Stubby) – You see…We only have the best talent here in the SWF…and Thugg doesn’t fit that build. If he knew anything other than punch, punch, kick, he would know that everyone is going to try and chop him down by going after his legs.

 

Thugg buckles over from the shot to his knee, and begins to limp around the ring as Bayawolf leaps back to his feet. As Thugg hops about the ring, Bayawolf runs up behind him and uses his arm to clip Thugg at the knee from behind. With a thud, Thugg goes down to the canvas back first as the fans become rather restless at the slow paced action.

 

(Stevens) – Whatever Stubby…I’m not here to argue with you. I’m here to call this match…that’s all.

 

(Riley) – Yeah, keep talking like that, and you won’t be here for long, I can tell you that.

 

(Stevens) – Uh huh…yeah, sure…

 

Bayawolf immediately goes after the downed Thugg’s right leg, twisting it and trying to lock it into a submission maneuver. However, Thugg uses his free leg to kick Bayawolf in the head, driving the high-flyer back and off of the slightly injured leg.

 

(Stevens) – Thugg with a shot to Bayawolf’s head, keeping him off that leg…good move from the former SWF champion.

 

Thugg scrambles to get to his feet quickly, as does Bayawolf, each trying to be the first to grab hold of this match.

 

(Riley) – In my expert opinion, Thugg is showing definite signs of ring rust…he’s looking sluggish and by now, he is usually dominating a match.

 

An eerie silence falls over the announce table as everyone in the vicinity is shocked that Bobby made a valid point. Meanwhile, Bayawolf holds his head and stumbles into range as Thugg drives a hard right hand into his head. Bayawolf staggers backwards, and before he can regain his composer, Thugg drives him farther backwards with another hard right. With still a slight limp, Thugg pushes Bayawolf into the far right corner, and with a hard whip, Bayawolf is sent hard into the near left corner!

 

(Stevens) – That was just strange. Anyway…Thugg gains control and whips Bayawolf into the turnbuckle, and this is where Thugg’s strength and power can start to wear down an opponent.

 

Thugg sets himself, and lumbers towards the near left corner, looking for the splash, but as he arrives, Bayawolf dives out of the way, leaving Thugg to crash chest first into the turnbuckle. As Thugg comes stumbling out of the corner, Bayawolf bounces off the right side ropes, and runs at Thugg…but is dropped hard to the canvas with a thunderous clothesline. The entire crowd gasps at the vicious clothesline, and then they begin to boo as King grabs Thugg by the shoulder and spins him around to face. King says something authoritative, but inaudible, to Thugg, who looks at King with a rage that could kill.

 

(Stevens) – Oh come on…what’s this about…Thugg didn’t do anything wrong!

 

(Riley) – Hey, like Stubby said…King is being very cautious…never can be too cautious.

 

Thugg takes his finger and pokes his finger into King’s chest, which is accompanied by some words and an unfriendly gesture with a single finger that brings the crowd back to life. However, this minor distraction was enough because when Thugg turns around, Bayawolf is waiting for him…waiting to drive his arm up between the big man’s legs!

 

(Stevens) – Low blow!! Low blow!! It’s over…dammit it’s over…DQ!!

 

The boos are enormous as a quick pan of the camera reveals King tying up his boots, and seemingly oblivious to the entire encounter.

 

(Stevens) – What the fu…How could King not see that?? You call this refereeing? That was a blatant low blow!

 

(Riley) – Hey…safety first. King needs to have boots tight…wouldn’t want to roll an ankle.

 

(Stubby) – I would say that Bayawolf was on the receiving end of a beneficial coincidence. I’m sure King will catch it next time!

 

Thugg keels over to hold his bruised genitals, while Bayawolf looks to take the advantage. The fans are extremely unhappy to see Wolf make a run to the far ropes, bounce off, and head back towards the bent over Thugg. As Thugg is facing to Bayawolf’s left as he runs at the big man, Bayawolf leaps into the air and drives his feet forward with a nicely executed sit out dropkick right to Thugg’s head!

 

(Stubby) – Now that was nice…that’s how wrestling is supposed to be done. We ain’t got no room for slow, dimwitted, buffoons. We need people that are athletes…not freaks of nature!

 

The blow knocks Thugg sideways and his neck lands on the bottom rope on the near side. Bayawolf leaps to his feet once again, and without wasting a second, he uses the top rope to hurl himself over towards the outside. In the air, he turns his body, and then drops his leg onto the back of Thugg’s head, causing him to be choked on the bottom rope!!

 

(Stevens) – Whoa! What a move from Bayawolf…hanging Thugg on that bottom rope with that slingshot legdrop to the outside!!

 

(Riley) – Impressive indeed!! Bayawolf is simply dominating Thugg right now, and I for one, am not surprised.

 

As Bayawolf lands on the floor outside, Thugg bounces up and grabs at his throat before collapsing back onto the bottom rope. Ignoring the pain in his rear from his impact with the ground, Bayawolf thrusts upward with a hard uppercut to Thugg’s exposed chin, sending the big man fully into the ring where he rolls a little ways holding his chin. The fans are buzzing with hope for Thugg to get it together soon…

 

(Stevens) – And Bayawolf is just having his way with Thugg right now, and Thugg’s huge size advantage hasn’t come into play at all. Bayawolf must have really prepared for this match.

 

(Stubby) – The sign of a true professional, and it’s obvious Thugg didn’t do any preparation…even more reason for me not wanting him to be a part of this federation again.

 

Bayawolf, seemingly in control at this point, jumps up to the apron and makes his way up to the top turnbuckle on the near left side. The fans boo relentlessly as he heelishly gestures towards them and King performs a half-hearted 5-count. With Thugg lying on his back nearby, Bayawolf takes to the air, extending his knee as he descends, and drops said knee directly onto Thugg’s forehead with a huge impact!

 

(Riley) – STARBREAKER!! STARBREAKER! Bayawolf is kicking his fat ass!

 

(Stevens) – The domination continues as Bayawolf scores with that huge knee drop from the top, and this one may be over.

 

Stubby gets to the edge of his seat while Bayawolf climbs atop the dazed Thugg for the pinfall. The fans plead with Thugg to kick out as King slides into position…

 

(Stevens) – Here it is…Could be over right here…

 

ONE…TWO…THRE…

 

(Stevens) – NO! Thugg with the kick out, and god Lord…that was a fast count!! What heart Thugg has to kick out after that extremely biased count!! What’s going on in there Stubby?

 

(Stubby) – Thugg kicked out…what are you looking for?

 

(Stevens) – That was a fast count dammit!

 

(Riley) – Are you accusing our commissioner of something Mark?

 

(Stubby) – Thanks Bobby, but I don’t need you to argue on my behalf.

 

The fans cheer as Thugg kicks out, but both King and Bayawolf look extremely unhappy about it. Bayawolf gets to his feet and drags Thugg up behind him. He delivers several hard forearms to keep Thugg reeling, and then runs back to the near ropes. Bayawolf bounces off of the ropes, and heads towards Thugg at full tilt. Bayawolf dips his head and extends his leg, as if to spear Thugg into the next century, but desperately, Thugg reacts just before Bayawolf makes contact and grabs the smaller man up with a gutwrench. He quickly flips Bayawolf and drives him back first to the canvas with a huge counter Powerbomb!!!

 

(Stevens) – Yeah Bob…REVERSAL!! BAM!! POWERBOMB!! Bayawolf was looking for that Kamikaze, but it was countered by Thugg with a humungous Powerbomb!! What a move!!

 

(Riley) – Desperation…lucky bastard.

 

(Stevens) – Thugg with the pin!! He could have a new contract right here!

 

Thugg instinctively goes for the pin as the crowd looses it’s mind with cheers. However, King takes his time getting to the pin, which causes many curses from the stands. Eventually, he gets there and begins his “count”…

 

(Stevens) – What is this??

 

ONE…

 

(Riley) – NO! Bayawolf courageously kicks out!! What heart!

 

(Stevens) – That’s crap and you know it! King took about a year getting over to the pinfall! This is a screwjob if I ever saw one!

 

Thugg, still kind of dazed but knows what happened, gets to his feet, and he immediately goes after King. King backs up with his hands out in a pleading manner as Thugg stalks him and screams inaudible obscenities at him. As Thugg stalks King towards to the far ropes, King points to his shirt, hoping that his title as referee will save him from a savage beating. The fans’ cheers turn to screams of warning as Bayawolf gets to his feet to see Thugg’s back to him near the far ropes.

 

(Stubby) – See, there’s another example of a professional…never turn your back on your opponent and never get involved with the official.

 

Bayawolf runs at Thugg, grabs him around the waist and uses his (Bayawolf’s) momentum to carry both to the far ropes. They bounce off backwards, and Bayawolf pulls back on Thugg’s waist to pull him into a roll up…NO! Thugg holds onto the ropes, and Bayawolf goes sailing off! Bayawolf rolls backwards and up to his feet, charges blindly at Thugg, but is met with a huge boot to the face!!

 

(Stevens) – And here comes Thugg!! Big Boot…and here it comes…

 

The boot to the face spins Bayawolf so that he lands on his back laying perpendicular to the far ropes. Thugg, with a little snarl to the crowd, bounces off the right side ropes, leaps into the air, and drops a huge leg right onto Bayawolf’s through, completing his new signature combination!!

 

(Stevens) – The legdrop!! What a combo by Thugg…one of the new moves he added to his repertoire during his layoff. OH!! And the pin!!!

 

King slides into position near Bayawolf’s head, with the crowd is in a frenzy. Thugg pulls back on Bayawolf’s inside (closest to the center of the ring) leg and lays on his back atop Bayawolf.

 

ONE!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TH……………

 

(Stevens) – WHAT THE HELL?!?

 

Everyone in the arena saw…all except Thugg…they all saw King reach over and place Bayawolf’s hand neatly on the bottom rope! The booing from the crowd reaches a peak as King jumps up and holds up two fingers.

 

(Stevens) – Are you kidding me?? Stubby…are you going to let him get away with that??

 

(Stubby) – Hey…I told you…I’m just here as a spectator and to commentate. King is the referee and is in control of what happens in the ring.

 

The fans are screaming for King’s blood, and Thugg sits up looking confused since he didn’t feel Bayawolf kick out. He turns to see Wolf’s hand on the bottom rope, but as he gets to his feet, he sees the crowd telling him that King screwed him yet again. Thugg becomes enraged and starts to go after King once more while Bayawolf recovers on the canvas.

 

(Stevens) – This is absolutely ridiculous…I mean, seriously…everything is stacked against Thugg tonight, and I don’t see how he is going to win his contract with King being such an asshole.

 

(Stubby) – Such harsh words about someone you used to call friend.

 

(Stevens) – My feelings about King are well known…

 

Thugg has begun to stalk King across the ring to the near ropes, as the fans pop for Thugg possibly maiming the Suicide King. As King nears the ropes, he suddenly grows a pair and steps towards Thugg, shoving him hard in the chest. Thugg doesn’t even budge, but instead sends the crowd into a volcanic eruption of cheers with…

 

SLAP!

 

…a one handed choke hold!!

 

(Stevens) – YES!! YES!! UNTAME HIS SORRY ASS!!

 

(Stubby) – Mark! Very objective!

 

(Stevens) – Screw that…everything is against Thugg out there…I’m not going to sugar coat it.

 

King waves his arms frantically as Thugg readies him for the Untamed Chokeslam. Thugg brings King to the center of the ring for the whole world to see, and the arena shakes with excitement. Thugg lifts the Gambling Man into the air with the choke, spins to his left…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

WHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!!!!!!!!

 

(Stevens) – OH MY GOD!!! KAMIKAZE!! BAYAWOLF JUST DESTROYED THUGG’S MIDSECTION WITH THAT TREMEDOUS KAMIKAZE!!

 

Sure enough, Bayawolf had gotten to his feet, and stormed over and annihilated Thugg with that huge spear! Even Thugg’s enormous body can’t absorb the blow, and he drops King, folds forward, and then snaps backward to the canvas, with his head hitting with a thud!

 

(Stubby) – I don’t know how often I have to say it, you never turn your back on your opponent. My point is again proven about why Thugg doesn’t belong here…

 

(Stevens) – Good God…Thugg is done! That’s it…it’s over! His wrestling career is over…all because of King!

 

The crowd goes completely silent as Bayawolf is forced to lay on the canvas momentarily to regain himself after the huge spear (because it took a lot out of him as well). King, gets to his feet, still a little dazed, and dusts himself off. With Thugg seemingly out, Bayawolf crawls over to him and drapes himself over the big man.

 

(Stevens) – The pin!

 

(Stubby) – My happiest moment…the end of The Hville Thugg!

 

Kind drops down…

 

ONE!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE………………

 

(Stevens) – OH YOU’VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!! IT’S NOT OVER! THUGG KICKED OUT!! HOLY CRAP!!

 

The cheers are shattering as Thugg shoots his arm off the canvas just before King’s hand hits for three. While Stubby’s and Riley’s jaws hit the floor and Stevens bounces in his chair, King slaps the ground with frustration while Bayawolf simply holds his head to show his discontent.

 

(Stevens) – What heart from the big man!! Overcoming all the odds and kicking out yet again!! You’re gonna have to wait cause Thugg’s not licked yet!

 

Bayawolf jumps up with a frustrated look of anger on his face, and he reaches down and grabs Thugg by the cornrows, forcing the dazed big man to stand. Ready to end this match right here and now, Bayawolf delivers a kick to Thugg’s midsection, doubling the big man…

 

(Stubby) – Well, looks like it doesn’t matter. Bayawolf’s gonna put an end to this right now and things can get back to normal around here.

 

Bayawolf looks out at the booing crowd for a moment before lifting his left leg…

 

(Stevens) – Here it comes! Cruel Fate……NO!!!

 

When Bayawolf goes to one leg, Thugg desperately shoves him hard, sending the smaller man to the far ropes, where he bounces off and run a short distance back into Thugg’s grasp. Thugg quickly grabs him up like a bearhug, but then quickly throws him off and hard, back first, to the canvas with a desperate Bearhug Front Slam!

 

(Stevens) – BEARHUG FRONT SLAM!!! THUGG COUNTERED THE CRUEL FATE WITH A BEARHUG FRONTSLAM!!! I’LL BE DAMNED!!

 

(Stubby) – Jesus H. Christ…

 

Thugg stumbles backwards a bit, still very much weary from the Kamikaze, and then, with the crowd going absolutely nuts, Thugg sends them into what some might call a pop of seismic proportions with a slow slash of his throat.

 

(Stevens) – OH HELL YES!! It’s coming! Thugg’s new finisher…The Last Stand!! He’s gonna put Bayawolf out right here!

 

With the crowd fully behind him, Thugg grabs Bayawolf up to his feet, and then, using his sheer strength, he lifts Bayawolf up into a Front Press position. He walks to the middle of the ring with Bayawolf up in the air, while King tries to talk Thugg into putting Wolf down…but Thugg isn’t even hearing King anymore. The fans kick it up for the finisher, but with doom so close, Bayawolf wiggles in Thugg’s grasp, a dangerous move at that height. The crowd goes silent as Bayawolf wiggles loose, but controls his body enough to turn and wrap his legs around Thugg’s neck, flip backwards, and bring Thugg down on his head with a Hurricarana!!

 

(Stevens) – Last Stan……NO! Countered by Bayawolf!! HURRICARANA!!! WHAT A COUNTER BY BAYAWOLF!! Both these guys are leaving it all out there tonight!!

 

(Riley) – See…you can’t count him out just yet!

 

Both men lay on the canvas now as the fans are silent once again. King looks around, almost as if he doesn’t know what he is to do…or maybe he wasn’t instructed about this scenario. But, King being the consummate professional he is, starts up a 10 count…

 

ONE!

 

(Stevens) – Both men down…and here’s the 10 count. The first man to rise will have a significant advantage as this match goes on.

 

TWO!

 

(Stubby) – See, I know something that the rest of you fail to realize…Thugg’s a has-been. He’s washed up.

 

THREE!

 

(Stubby) – Lemme ask you this…do you think Thugg would have had this much trouble with Bayawolf last year?

 

FOUR!

 

(Riley) – He makes a good point.

 

FIVE!

 

Bayawolf begins to move, rolling onto his stomach as the fans start up an “H-V-T” chant.

 

(Stevens) – Maybe so, but he didn’t have the odds stacked against him like he does tonight…

 

SIX!

 

Bayawolf is on all fours, and begins to crawl very slowly towards Thugg.

 

(Stevens) – I mean, you’ve got…Bayawolf…he’s moving…and…yes, he looks to be going for the pin on Thugg!

 

The fans cheer loudly trying to rally Thugg as King smiles with anticipation, and Bayawolf drops his arm across Thugg’s chest. King excitedly drops down…

 

ONE…TWO…THREEEEEEEEEE…….NO!!

 

(Stevens) – Fast count! NO!! Thugg gets this shoulder up! King with one of the fastest counts I’ve ever seen, but Thugg kicks out anyway!!

 

Bayawolf, not really bothered that Thugg kicked out, rolls off of Thugg and starts to get to his feet. Thugg does the same as the fans, once again, chant him on.

 

“H-V-T!”

 

“H-V-T!”

 

“H-V-T!”

 

“H-V-T!”

 

(Stevens) – Listen to his crowd! They’re really behind Thugg now!!

 

Both men make it to their feet, Bayawolf slightly faster than Thugg, which allows him to score the forearm to the head first. Thugg retaliates with a hard right to Bayawolf’s jaw, sending him reeling, but he comes right back with another hard forearm that drives Thugg back.

 

(Stevens) – And now they’re just battling to see who’s going to take control of this match for the stretch run! But Bayawolf knows he can’t battle blow for blow with Thugg…

 

(Stubby) – Which is why he won’t…you’ll see.

 

After a few punch-forearms sequences, Thugg gets the upper hand, landing right hand after right hand, driving Bayawolf back towards the far ropes. With a push against the far ropes, Thugg whips Bayawolf across the ring to the near ropes, where the springy superstar bounces off and runs back at Thugg. Thugg attempts to take Bayawolf’s head off with a huge clothesline, but Wolf ducks and bounces off the far ropes. Thugg turns around, but a seconds too late as Wolf is upon him. Bayawolf pushes up on Thugg’s shoulders, whips around Thugg’s back, and then drives the big man’s head to the canvas with a Tornado DDT that silences the crowd, but excites Stubby!

 

(Stubby) – SEE! Now that’s what I’m talking about!

 

Thugg’s head bounces off the canvas, and he flips over onto his back. Bayawolf, in firm control now, leaves the ring on the far side instead of pinning Thugg, and heads straight for the timekeeper’s table.

 

(Stevens) – Now what? Dammit…he’s going for a chair!! Doesn’t he have enough advantages for one night?!?

 

Sure enough, Bayawolf flings the time keeper from his chair, folds the chair angrily, and slides back into the ring where Thugg seems to be coming to. King goes over to Bayawolf and starts to scold him, which is a surprise to everyone in the ring.

 

(Stevens) – Well…would you look at that? King is actually telling Bayawolf to get rid of the chair…how about that.

 

(Riley) – But I thought it was all a conspiracy against Thugg?!? Isn’t that what you’ve been saying all night?

 

However, as King scolds the former SWF champ, he suddenly goes to the ground clutching his ankle, and that’s when the boos come raining in again!

 

(Riley) – Oh no…King hurt himself.

 

(Stevens) – YOU CAN’T BE SERIOUS!! HE’S NOT HURT! HE’S FREAKING FAKING IT SO BAYAWOLF CAN USE THAT DAMN CHAIR! THIS IS JUST GETTING RIDICULOUS!

 

Much to the crowd’s chagrin, HVT starts to get to his feet as Bayawolf taps the chair on the canvas in anticipation. Thugg rises, Bayawolf rears the chair back…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

SWOOSH!

 

(Stevens) – HE MISSED! THUGG DUCKED!

 

Bayawolf’s swing takes him past Thugg, and when he turns back around to face the monster…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CLANG!!

 

(Stevens) – AND THUGG PUNCHED THAT CHAIR RIGHT BACK INTO BAYAWOLF’S FACE!! MY HOW THE TABLES HAVE TURNED!

 

(Riley) – Illegal weapon!! DQ! DQ!!

 

The crowd erupts once more as they are taken on a rollercoaster, and Bayawolf drops like a sack to the canvas. Thugg grabs the chair up from the mat, but that’s when King miraculously comes to and gets up.

 

(Stevens) – Oh, would you look at that…King’s all better now.

 

HVT prepares to blitz Bayawolf with the chair, but King comes from behind to grab the weapon. He is unsuccessful in taking the chair from HVT, but he is successful in distracting Thugg. Thugg turns to meet King face to face, and King begins to scream at Thugg about the chair.

 

(Stevens) – Come on Thugg…control your rage! Don’t get disqualified!

 

After a battle with his instincts, Thugg drops the chair to the canvas, but still advances on King again. He grabs the former SWF champ by his collar and shout something not fit for television (even PPV) before turning his back to King and going after the still down Bayawolf.

 

(Stevens) – Learned how to control his rage…good! And now, Thugg’s in control, and on his way to a contract.

 

(Stubby) – Jumping ton conclusions are we?

 

(Stevens) – I feel very confident in my statement.

 

Before Thugg can even get a few feet away, King grabs Thugg’s shoulder to keep him from going too far. Everyone suddenly sees what’s happening and begin to boo, as King steps to the left of Thugg and quickly takes and pulls Thugg’s left arm towards him. Just as quickly, King locks Thugg’s right arm in a Half Nelson…

 

(Riley) – JOKER’S WILD!! THUGG MESSED WITH KING ONE TOO MANY TIMES!!

 

…BUT THUGG DRIVES BREAKS HIS LEFT ARM FREE AND DRIVES IT INTO KING’S STOMACH!!

 

(Stevens) – NOT TODAY!

 

King is slightly dazed from the surprising blow, and Thugg grabs the greatest heel ever and whips him to the near ropes. King, smarted than your average bear, immediately slides under the ropes to avoid whatever Thugg had in mind. He points and screams at Thugg, and all that can be made out is something about disqualification. Suddenly, cheers erupt from the fans everywhere, but King continues to jabber with Thugg. Suddenly, he is slammed into the ring apron by none other than…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…THE SWF HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION…EL LUCHADORE MAGNIFICO!!!

 

(Stevens) – MAGNIFICO!! IT’S MAGNIFICO!! KING GETS AWAY WITH NO MORE…IT’S THE WORLD CHAMP!!

 

(Stubby) – Shit!

 

Stubby leaps up from his announcer chair and hauls ass over to the other side of the ring, where ELM bounces off of the down King. The fans are cheering their asses off as Stubby turns the corner hoping to ambush ELM from behind. Inside the ring, Thugg watches by the near ropes as Stubby charges…but ELM turns and ducks a Stubby clothesline, and then DROPS THE COMMISSIONER WITH A HUGE SUPERKICK!!!

 

(Stevens) – SUPERKICK! SUPERKICK FROM ELM TO STUBBY! THE COMMISSIONER IS DOWN!! AND ALL HELL’S BROKEN OUT HERE TONIGHT!

 

Throughout all the commotion, however, everyone seemingly forgot about Bayawolf, who is now on his feet, and standing right behind Thugg!

 

(Stevens) – SHIT! Thugg…look out!!

 

(Riley) – TOO LATE!

 

Thugg turns around, hoping to finish Bayawolf off without interruption…but is met with a boot to the midsection, forcing Thugg to double over! No time wasted on this occasion as Bayawolf locks on a front face lock, kicks his left leg forward, throws it back, and DRIVES THUGG’S HEAD TO THE CANVAS WITH A FALLING DDT!!

 

(Riley) – CRUEL FATE!! CRUEL FATE!! THUGG SUFFERS THE CRUEL FATE!!!

 

(Stevens) – DEAR GOD!! CRUEL FATE ON THE DISTRACTED THUGG!! IT’S OVER…THUGG’ S CAREER HERE IN THE SWF IS OVER!!

 

The booing from the stands compares to nothing anyone’s ever heard, as the announcers have to scream to be heard. Meanwhile, on the outside, Stubby has gotten to his feet and has punched ELM back to the crowd barrier. He delivers chop after chop to Magnifico’s chest, while, inside the ring, Bayawolf crawls on top of Thugg and hooks the leg!

 

(Riley) – It’s over!! OVER!! Where’s King?!?

 

After a few seconds, the crowd boos relentlessly as King slowly crawls back into the ring to deliver the final blow. On the outside, ELM sends a running Stubby into the crowd with a back body drop, while King delivers the count as quickly as his aching body can…

 

ONE!!

 

(Stevens) – IT’S OVER!! THERE’S NO KICKING OUT OF THE CRUEL FATE!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE………………………

 

(Stevens) – NO!!! NO!!! I CAN’T BELIEVE IT!! ELM JUST SAVED THUGG’S ASS AGAIN!!

 

(Riley) – Goddammit! Someone get this little Mexican prick!

 

The fans explode as ELM yanks King by the legs, pulling him out of the ring. King, absolutely fed up with ELM, breaks the luchadore’s grip and shoves him back to the crowd barrier. King begins to choke ELM, but the kooky champion reaches behind him into the crowd, grabbing the first thing he can get his hands on. Suddenly, ELM launches something liquid from a cup at King…

 

“MY EYES!! MY FUCKING EYES!!”

 

(Stevens) – Magnifico just threw something into King’s eyes! What was that?

 

(Riley) – Now this is just getting out of hand! This is supposed to be a match dammit…and now Bayawolf is at a disadvantage!

 

(Stevens) – Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!

 

King’s words ring clear throughout the arena as he staggers back holding his face and whipping his eyes. Inside the ring, Bayawolf lays exhausted near Thugg now, having rolled off of him when he realized the count wasn’t coming back. As he starts to get to his feet and with Thugg still down, ELM goes behind the punch drunk King and grabs on a backslide! He runs up the apron, flips over King’s head, and with a huge pop from the crowd, he drives King’s head to the floor with the Baja California Crusher!!

 

(Stevens) – CRUSHER!! BAJA CALIFORNIA CRUSHER!! ELM IS CLEANING OUT!!

 

King hugs the floor as ELM then runs to the apron and leaps up, only to be met there by Bayawolf, who is obviously very unhappy. Bayawolf takes a swipe at ELM, but Magnifico ducks the blow and drives a shoulder into Bayawolf’s midsection. As ELM stands there staggering, ELM grabs the top rope, slings himself up to the top rope (in the middle), and leaps off. ELM’s legs wrap around Bayawolf’s head, and ELM takes him to the ground with a Hurricarana!!

 

(Stevens) – SPRINGBOARD HURRICARANA!!! WE’VE GOT TROUBLE NOW!!

 

(Riley) – Doesn’t this jerk off have a match right after this? Shouldn’t he be preparing?

 

ELM springs right back up to his feet and nearly leaps all the way up to the near right turnbuckle. He spies Bayawolf down, not too far from Thugg, and takes to the air. Backwards he flips in midair, and…WHAM…with a resounding collision, ELM lands right on top of Bayawolf with a Shooting Star Press!!

 

(Stevens) – AND THERE IT IS!! THE MEXICAN PRIDE PRESS!! ELM HAS SAVED THE DAY HERE!! SAVED THE DAMN DAY!!

 

(Riley) – This is not right and you know it!!

 

ELM looks around at the cheering crowd, and then grabs Thugg’s massive paw and drapes it over Bayawolf.

 

(Riley) – HE’S FREAKING CHEATING!! IT’S SO DAMN BLATANT!

 

ELM slides back out of the ring, grabs King and slings him up onto the apron. He then does the unthinkable…ELM grabs King’s hand, and…

 

(Stevens) – HOLY SHIT!

 

ONE!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(Riley) – Is this legal? Does this count?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(Stevens) – It has in the past…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE…………………

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(Stevens) – STUBBY!!!

 

The silence of the crowd says it all as Stubby tackles ELM off of King, and the count stops. Stubby and ELM are rolling around on the floor for position, but inside the ring, the action continues.

 

(Riley) – THAT’S RIGHT! ALWAYS COUNT ON THE COMMISH TO SET THINGS RIGHT!

 

(Stevens) – Stubby makes the save, and it’s a good thing he did…cause this one was over!

 

The fans are really just confused at this point by all that’s going on, but they soon get right and start to cheer, as Thugg gets to his feet, slowly but surely. He looks around as the crowd gets behind him, and he sees Bayawolf stirring, and it all comes back to him.

 

(Stevens) – Thugg’s up!! Here we go!!

 

Thugg makes a slow slash across his throat that sends the fans into another frenzy. He grabs Bayawolf up by his mask, whips him to the far ropes, and then hoists him up into a Front Press! Marks and Smarks alike wait with anticipation as Thugg turns Bayawolf, and then slams him onto his head with a sitdown driver (like Michinochu)!!!

 

(Stevens) – THERE IT IS!! LAST STAND!! LAST STAND!!

 

Thugg falls on top of the unconscious Bayawolf, and in what surprises everyone in the world, King comes crawling back into the ring on the near side. He rubs his eyes with one hand and gets as close as he can to the pin with the other. He’s blinking…as if…

 

(Riley) – NO! No fair…King can’t see!! He doesn’t know what he’s doing!

 

Sure enough, King seems to still be blinded, if no from that liquid in his face, then the California Crusher he received at the hands of ELM. He squints, and then just seems to slap the mat with hope in his face…

 

ONE!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(Stevens) – YES!! YES!! This is it!

 

(Riley) – Here comes Stubby!

 

Haven seen the pin and broken free from ELM, Stubby charges the ring…

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Stubby dives in…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE……………………

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(Stevens) – YES!!! HE’S TOO LATE!! IT’S OVER!! KING COUNTED BAYAWOLF DOWN!! IT’S OVER!!

 

DING DING DING!!

 

(Riley) – I can’t believe King made that mistake…errr…I mean…yeah…it’s over!

 

Stubby slaps the mat in frustration as the arena erupts and the roof shakes from the sound of thousands cheering for the angry black man. Stubby rolls out of the ring and watches ELM wander back up to the stage and out of sight, while inside the ring, HVT launches his arms in the air in victory!

 

(Stevens) – THUGG HAS DONE IT!! HE’S WON HIS CONTRACT BACK!! BY GOD, HE’S BACK IN THE SWF!!

 

(Funyon) – The winner of this contest…THE HVIIIIIIIILLLLLLLLEEEEEEEEEEE THHHHUUUUUUGGGGGGGGG!!!!

 

(Riley) – Well whoopdiddyfreakingdoo.

 

Thugg grabs a hold of Bayawolf and grabs Funyon’s mic! He beings the lifeless Bayawolf over to the near ropes, and calls for Stubby…

 

(HVT) – STUBBY!!

 

Stubby slowly turns around as he sulks up on the ramp…

 

(HVT) – I WANT MY FUCKING CONTRACT YOU BITCH! I WANT YOU ON YOUR FUCKING KNEES GIVING ME MY GODDAMN CONTRACT! AND JUST TO SHOW YOU WHAT THAT I’M NOT FUCKING WITH YOU…I’M THE REASON THIS PUSSY WEARS A MASK NOW!!

 

Thugg rips back on Bayawolf’s mask, and reveals a gruesome sight!

 

(Stevens) – OH MY GOD!!

 

(Riley) – I think I’m gonna be sick!

 

Scars everywhere…open sores…blood stains…arguably the most hideous, scar-ridden face you’ve ever seen!

 

(HVT) – FUCK WITH ME…AND THIS WILL HAPPEN TO YOU TOO BITCH!

 

Stubby stands shocked…and he slowly backs up the ramp and out of sight. Thugg slams Bayawolf back to the canvas and exits the ring as well, and angry hitch in his step.

 

(Stevens) – Oh my god…his face…what the…Jesus…we’ll be back with the main event.

 

The final shot zooms in on Bayawolf’s face, as grotesque as it is…for underneath the scars and hideous disfigurement lies the face of the man formerly known as Sacred.

[Guest BA_Baracus]

The SWF's annual December pay-per-view returns from an ad for SWF Clusterfuck 2003 and pans the crowd in Washington, DC's MCI Center. The crowd, still hot over the Last Man Standing match that settled the grudge between two men with more at stake than the remnants of a cult, as well as the gratuitous appearance of the Suicide King in what would have been a memorable match to begin with, is absolutely deafening as the hook lines of "Don't Drag Me Down" blare in the background. The camera shows the cage triumphant around the ring, a vision in steel chain-link, as the exhausted ring crew scoots out of the picture after having assembled it quickly during the break.

 

A few fans have already begun a "WE WANT MAGS! WE WANT MAGS!" chant, and as the camera pans the crowd, it sees that much like the House and Senate, the DC crowd is decidedly partisan. "MAGNIFICO" signs litter the floor, and there are numerous groups of fans each holding single letters to form "ELM" signs. In addition, there are plenty of signs railing on the Superior One, such as "Flesher Sucked Riley's Cock," "Flesher Fears Thugg" and the ever-popular "Magnificent Suck." Finally, as the crowd reaches a near-fever pitch, the SmarkTron lights up with a photo of El Luchadore Magnifico on the left half, with his SWF World Championship placed over his shoulder. On the right side, a photo of Tom Flesher appears, with Tom holding his half of the SWF Tag Team Championship and smirking condescendingly at the camera. Suddenly, a chain-link cage crashes down from the top of the screen and an explosion goes off! The fans burst into cheers, picking up the "ELM! ELM!" chant as Funyon enters the ring.

 

"Can you believe it, Bobby?" says "Grand Slam" Mark Stevens, ever dapper in his tuxedo and ball-and-bat-print vest. "This is a rematch six months in the making! Ever since Tom Flesher and El Luchadore Magnifico squared off at Ground Zero-"

 

"A match Flesher WON, I might add." Bobby Riley snorts his answer from the other side of the announcers' table, looking... well, looking like something in his powder-blue, ruffled tuxedo.

 

"Of course, it was under rules that favored Flesher considerably."

 

"Still, Stevens, a win is a win, and Flesher beat Magnifico cleanly by making him tap out not once but twice in the thirty-minute Ultimate Submissions match at Ground Zero."

 

"It remains to be seen, however, which of arguably two of the best wrestlers in the world today will climb over the top of the cage tonight, touch both feet to the floor and be declared the SWF World Champion! These two have been building to this return match for six months! This time, it's all on the line! Tom Flesher says he's on the King's Road, and El Luchadore Magnifico wants nothing more than to avenge the loss at Ground Zero when it counts! Let's go to the ring!"

 

Funyon, having busted out white tie and tails for the final pay-per-view of the year, stands in the center of the ring as the bell sounds once to get the crowd's attention. "Ladies and gentlemen," he says, "the following match is the final contest of the evening."

 

The fans cheer...

 

"It is the MAIN EVENT!"

 

Louder cheers...

 

"It is for the SWF World Heavyweight Championship!"

 

The crowd is absolutely in a frenzy....

 

"It is a STEEL CAGE MATCH!"

 

The crowd pops like the proverbial cherry on prom night. Quickly, as if on cue, everything in the arena stop moving, and the spotlights all point to the SmarkTron, blazing white. The words "MAGNIFICENT SEVEN" and "SUPERIORITY COMPLEX" appear in blue lettering; the big screen holds this image for a few moments, just to tease the fans, until....

 

 

BOOM!!!!!!!!!

 

 

With a loud explosion and an intensely bright flash of blue pyro, "Kashmir" begins to ring out through the MCI Center, and the crowd almost immediately begins to boo. The thin blue smoke begins to clear, and through the fog walks the silhouette of The Superior One, Tom Flesher. Flesher pauses on the stage, his Tag Team Title belt slung over his shoulder, and soaks in the crowd's reaction. They jeer at him as he poses and pats his beloved Tag Team belt, taking a few steps at a time and then stopping to work the crowd again. With a simple shooing-away motion, Flesher coaxes the "ELM!" chant from the crowd once again. As Flesher makes it to the middle of the ramp, the first symphonic hook rings out through the arena, and bursts of pyro explode from the stage. As the hook plays, Flesher leans his head back and slowly drags his thumb across his throat, angering the crowd even further. He continues strolling casually to the ring, "Kashmir" still playing in the background, until he reaches the door. At that point, senior official Eddy Long opens the door and Flesher struts in. He positions himself in the center just in time for the second symphonic hook and, as he holds his Tag Team belt aloft, he is illuminated by blue and white pyro shooting from the cornerposts. After the fireworks, the music fades out, and Flesher looks expectantly at Funyon.

 

"Tonight," says Funyon as he withdraws the index card from his pocket, "in this very ring, you are about to see history made. El Luchadore Magnifico is in the middle of his historic third reign as SWF World Heavyweight Champion. Or, more accurately, he's near the end, because in this steel cage, this man is going to beat him like the animal he is. Ladies and gentlemen, this man is without a doubt the top worker in the world today, so bow down before him, bow down before 213 pounds of superiority, the captain of the Head Trauma Express, the leader of the Magnificent Seven, the NEXT SWF World Heavyweight Champion, bow down to the Superior One, TOM FLESHER!!!!!!!"

 

Flesher stares determinedly toward the entryway, cracking his neck from side to side as he sets his title on the mat and then strips his warmup suit off. Flesher hands everything out to the officials at ringside. Suddenly....

 

UNO! DOS! TRES! CUATRO!

 

Orange pyro bursts from the turnbuckles with each Spanish number, and the crowd reacts to the energized vocals, guitar and horns of Bunch Of Believers' "Mission Trip To Mexico." El Luchadore Magnifico stays back for a few moments, teasing the crowd in his own way, before stepping through the curtain, Mexican flag in hand. He waves it excitedly as the fans leap to their feet to applaud their World Champion. He pauses in the middle of the ramp, unbelievably fired up, and waves the flag.

 

"And his opponent, from Mexico City, Mexico, he is a member of the Midnight Carnival... weighing in at 193 pounds, he is the SWF WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION, EL... LUCHADORE... MAGNIFICOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!"

 

The fans cheer loudly as Magnifico sprints to the ring, enters through the door and climbs all the way to the top of the cage to salute the fans and wave his flag! The fans continue cheering their favorite on until he hands the flag over the top to referee Billy Chioda, then hands the title belt to Funyon. Funyon holds it aloft, then hustles out of the ring, pushing his way through the phalanx of officials and road agents at ringside to maintain order and have a great seat to watch the match. The two men are left alone in the cage, and with a loud clank, the door is locked.

 

 

DING DING DING!!!!!!

 

 

Tom Flesher and El Luchadore Magnifico stand in the center of the ring, staring each other down. Flesher, from his defensive stance, reaches out his left hand tentatively, looking for a test of strength grip with Magnifico. The Luchadore, looking offended, swats Flesher's hand away, and then unloads with a knife-edge chop!

 

SMACK!!!! (WHOO!)

 

Flesher stands his ground, gritting his teeth to avoid showing any signs of discomfort, and responds to the chop with a kick to Magnifico's thigh! Magnifico, not wanting to lose face by showing pain when Flesher was able to ignore the knife-edge chop, bites his lip and redirects the pain into another chop across Flesher's chest!

 

SMACK!!!! (WHOO!)

 

Flesher, obviously in intense discomfort but refusing to admit it and show weakness to his opponent, jerks his leg forward and slams his Doc Marten into Magnifico's quadriceps! The Superior One then immediately grabs the off-balance Magnifico and pulls him into a collar-and-elbow tie up.

 

"Flesher ties up to avoid any more striking in a battle both men were losing by trying to one-up the other," says Stevens. "The tie up is where Flesher has the advantage due to his edge in the strength department, but this early in the match, Magnifico is still fresh enough to counter with high-flying moves that can put Flesher down long enough for the cage climb."

 

"Oh my STARS!" shouts Riley in an exaggerated 'gay' voice. "He's going to flip flop all OVER you, Thomas!" Riley clears his throat and drops the burlesque tone. "Come on, Mark, Magnifico's a gymnast, not a wrestler. If he comes diving off the top rope, Flesher'll just catch him and drop him on his head. Now tell me how Magnifico wins with a broken neck."

 

"Well, I certainly don't think it's that cut and dry, Bobby."

 

"Prove it! Hahaaaaa, loser."

 

Flesher and Magnifico grapple back and forth in the lockup, each man struggling to gain the early advantage that may end up being the deciding factor in the match. Flesher ducks down to shoot on Magnifico's left leg for a single-leg takedown, but the Luchadore kicks back and counters by blocking Flesher out with his forearms in a classic freestyle technique. The crowd pops as Flesher backs out to regroup.

 

"El Luchadore Magnifico has clearly been watching films of amateur wrestling and of Flesher's SWF style," Stevens says, trying not to sound as pleased as he is. "He counters out of Flesher's single-leg attempt and sends him back to the drawing board."

 

"Oh, sure, one move sends him back to the drawing board. Could you be any more biased, Grand Slam? Jesus, and the referee's even worse!"

 

"There IS no referee in the cage, Bobby. They're all on the outside. Look, even Eddy Long's there."

 

"Yeah, but so is that Tortiere guy who can barely count to three. Geez, where do we GET these guys from, Mark?"

 

"Same place we got Breggan, I'd venture."

 

Riley grumbles under his breath as Magnifico steps forward, keeping the pressure on Flesher and forcing him to change his game plan on the fly. He grabs Flesher by his left arm and starts to whip him to the ropes, but Tom plants his feet and stops the motion. Instead, he quickly and derisively strikes Magnifico in the jaw, then locks on a side headlock for control. Flesher squeezes Magnifico's head, threatening to pop it like a grape.

 

"Jesus, Mark, look at that headlock!" exclaims Bobby. "You see so many guys today who just use it to think of something to do, but Flesher's not resting. He's fatiguing Magnifico, he's putting him in intense pain with that side headlock, and he's not letting it go any time soon."

 

"Be that as it may, Magnifico is more than competent on his feet, and there's just no way he's going to tap to a side headlock."

 

"Flesher could make him tap to ANYTHING. I once saw Flesher make his girlfriend tap to a particularly stiff French kiss."

 

"That's just because he works so stiff that if he pats you on the back, he breaks three of your ribs," replies Stevens. "He has no concern for the safety of his opponents."

 

"You say that like it's a bad thing, marky Mark."

 

In the ring, Magnifico plants his feet and throws his weight forward, shooting Flesher toward the ropes, but the Superior One keeps his headlock securely on Magnifico and stops the momentum after a few steps. He regrips the move and gradually works his way back to the center of the ring. Magnifico immediately tries to shoot him off to the ropes again, but once again, Flesher stops the motion and holds on to him with his sick headlock. Flesher torques Magnifico's neck, only to have the Luchadore attempt to shrug the headlock off one more time. Flesher follows through with the momentum, sitting down hard onto the mat and keeping the headlock. He sits there for a moment, then makes a quick hip roll and puts Magnifico onto his back. Because the match can't be won with a pin, Flesher ignores keeping Magnifico flat on the mat, instead jerking his head violently up and painfully torquing his neck. ELM tries to counter by rolling Flesher onto his back, much as if he were trying to pin him. Rather, he manages to alleviate the pressure on his neck by taking away Flesher's leverage advantage, and goes to work on breaking the headlock.

 

Magnifico brings his hands up to the point where Flesher has his grip and begins trying to pry them apart, but is unsuccessful. Flesher keeps his grip, using his marked strength advantage to keep the headlock on, and takes advantage of Magnifico's focus on breaking the grip to roll back over into a sitting position and resume torquing the neck. Magnifico's eyes are practically bugging out at this point, and Flesher pushes himself back up to his feet. He puts pressure on the neck once more, then executes a picture-perfect headlock takeover and slams Magnifico to the mat. He twists the neck for a moment more, and Magnifico tries to counter by scissoring Flesher's body to remove the pressure. As Riley murmurs, "Desperation counter," Flesher lets go of the headlock and greedily grabs at Magnifico's left leg.

 

"Well, he certainly gave that right up," snorts Riley.

 

"Magnifico isn't very familiar with working on the mat," concedes Stevens, "but perhaps he was hoping to lock on a Sangria Stretch and turn the tide, or maybe a douishime sleeper."

 

"Pfft. Flesher owns him on the mat."

 

"And Magnifico owns Flesher in the air. Guess what? I'd say Magnifico's in much better position in a cage match."

 

Flesher keeps Magnifico's left leg bent around his waist and wrenches it painfully out of place. Magnifico shows signs of discomfort, but works hard to keep his expression from degenerating into a grimace of pain. He throws his right leg around Flesher's waist again, trying to lock on the scissors again, but Flesher swats the right leg away and wrenches the left leg even harder. When he hears Magnifico's first concession that he feels pain, Flesher smirks and tries to take the knee entirely out of joint. He then stands up, smirks down at Magnifico and drops his elbow into the side of the knee. As Magnifico tries to kick his knee out, Flesher simply stands up and drops a second elbow in.

 

"Look at the way he's trying to dislocate that knee," says Riley gleefully. "It's great! Pure sadism all the way!"

 

"Given, he's an excellent attacker, but I certainly hope he's not focusing on getting a submission," replies Stevens. "Remember, fans, this match can be won ONLY by climbing over the top of the cage and touching both feet to the floor. Here in the SWF, we don't buy into that 'magic door' nonsense."

 

Flesher stands up once more and keeps his hold on his adversary's left leg. He feigns another elbow drop, but instead opts to simply drive the toe of his boot into Magnifico's hamstring. As the luchadore jerks his leg back, Flesher grabs the right leg instead, and starts to spin around and wrap it around his leg. "Flesher goes for the figure four," says Stevens, and as ELM plants his boot into Flesher's backside, Grand Slam excitedly adds, "but El Luchadore Magnifico counters!" After booting Flesher off his leg, Magnifico kicks the Superior One again with enough force to send him to the ropes, and as Flesher bounces off, he uses the extra few seconds to kip up onto his feet! Flesher stops in his tracks, and both men fall into their defensive stances for a moment as the crowd roars with their approval. ("Damn Indy Applause Stance," mutters Riley.) With that, Flesher charges at Magnifico, but gets caught by a HUGE spinning back elbow that sends a loud *CRACK* echoing through the arena. Flesher steps back, nearly falling to the mat. Magnifico jumps into the air, then slams into Flesher with a spring-loaded standing dropkick! Flesher collapses to the mat, and the crowd roars even louder to cheer their hero on!

 

"What a turn of the tides by Magnifico!" says Stevens, his tone equivalent to an ear-to-ear grin. "Everyone's favorite completely legal immigrant has turned the tables on his rival, and now he's got Flesher on the run!"

 

"Now he's got Flesher on the run," Riley says mockingly. He resumes his standard tone when he continues. "Pfft. How can he POSSIBLY be on the run? He's Tom Flesher!"

 

"I stand corrected, Bobby. He's flat on his back."

 

Magnifico waits one more moment for Flesher to get up, and as soon as Tom starts to get off the mat, the Mexican pelts him with another dropkick! Flesher looks as if he wants to sprawl flat on his face, but the ropes keep him on his feet. Magnifico bounces back to his feet and grabs Flesher's left wrist. With great intentsity, he chops across Flesher's chest...

 

SMACK!!!! (WHOO!)

 

and then whips him hard into the nearest turnbuckle. Magnifico takes a moment to look to the crowd, which shouts their approval at his proposed course of action. Spurred on by the fans, Magnifico charges at top speed into the corner... only to be nailed in the face by Tom Flesher's size 11 Doc Marten! Magnifico, caught by surprise, staggers backwards. Flesher steps forward and, operating on instinct, slams his palm into Magnifico's jaw. He grabs the SWF World Champion in a bear hug, then spins around and sets him on the top rope. Scurrying up the turnbuckles, Flesher takes a moment to play to the crowd by leaning his head back and dragging his thumb across his throat, much the same way he did when he made his way to the ring.

 

"He couldn't POSSIBLY be going for the Boilermaker this early in the match!" says Stevens. "It's just too early!"

 

"It's never too early to drop someone on his head, Baby Grand."

 

Flesher smirks as he stands on the top rope, then locks his hands around Magnifico's head in a front facelock. He starts to lift the luchadore off the turnbuckle, but Magnifico holds on to the ropes. Flesher tries to lift him again, but Magnifico blocks the lift before locking on a front facelock of his own. He stands up, then lifts Flesher into the air and throws him forward into a belly flop onto the mat! Flesher lands hard and grabs his stomach, then his ribs. After a moment, though, he starts to push himself up. In the meantime, Magnifico perches himself on the top rope. As soon as Flesher stands all the way up, the Mexican leaps off the turnbuckle and hits Flesher squarely in the back with a missile dropkick! Flesher splatters on the mat, and Magnifico stands over him. With a great deal of drama...

 

He points to the cage.

 

"Listen to this!" says Grand Slam, clearly trying to suppress his excitement. "The fans are on their feet and El Luchadore Magnifico is about to climb the cage!"

 

The fans cheer as Magnifico sprints over to the closest cage wall and starts to climb it. He plants his feet on the ropes, scaling the side of the cage and listening to the fans cheer louder and louder as he nears the top. As Magnifico puts his feet on the top rope and balances out, Flesher works his way to his feet and runs to the wall. He grabs the vulnerable Magnifico by the waist and gradually steps backwards. With his opponent high in the air, Flesher simply has to arch his back and throw for a released German suplex that sends the luchadore floating roughly six miles and landing on the back of his neck. The fans burst into a chorus of boos as Flesher smirks and taps his head with his index finger, then shouts, "I'VE GOT THE BRAINS AROUND HERE, OH YEAH!" The fans react appropriately, and Flesher has every reason to be thankful that the cage is there to deflect the empty beer cups being thrown at him.

 

He turns around to see the crumbled Magnifico and cockily boots him in the neck. He reaches down and grabs his adversary in a front facelock, then yanks him up to his feet and smirks at the crowd. He keeps the facelock and jerks Magnifico upward, looking for a brainbuster. Magnifico, however, grapevines the leg and keeps his other foot on the mat, blocking the brainbuster attempt. Magnifico then arches his back, trying to suplex Flesher over. Flesher, however, grapevines the leg in exactly the same way, blocking the suplex. Magnifico releases the front facelock and shoves Flesher away. Tom immediately slams his foot into Magnifico's left thigh. Magnifico grits his teeth to avoid showing any pain, but Flesher kicks him in the thigh once again. When Magnifico pauses for a moment to try to flex the muscle and keep it from cramping up, Flesher grabs his wrist and shifts his weight. He whips Magnifico into the corner, then slaps his own thigh mockingly. He charges into the corner and lifts his leg for a Yakuza kick. Magnifico ducks, and Flesher kicks the turnbuckle! The pad comes flying off the buckle with the force of the kick, and Tom's leg gets caught on the cornerpost. As Tom struggles to free himself, Magnifico shuffles into the corner and nails Flesher with a superkick to the back of the head! Flesher flops backwards, falling out of the corner and onto his back.

 

"What a kick!" shouts Stevens. "Flesher misses with his deadly Yakuza kick, and Magnifico counters it with a superkick! It just doesn't get any better than this!"

 

"Oh, sure it does, Mark. It'll get much, much better when Tom Flesher climbs over the top of the cage and hits on the floor, flat on both feet. He'll leave with the SWF World Heavyweight Championship and his trip on the King's Road will be complete."

 

"Or perhaps El Luchadore Magnifico is going to continue on the path he's forging now, scale the cage and land on HIS feet on the outside! Fans, who knows what else is going to happen here?!"

 

"Oh, quit your shilling, you big galoot. They already BOUGHT the pay-per-view."

 

Magnifico grabs Flesher and lifts him up, then snapmares him forward onto his BUTT. The luchadore then nails Flesher in the back of the head with a stiff kick, and Flesher flops onto his back. Magnifico lifts him to his feet and cradles his near leg, holding Flesher in position for a fisherman's suplex. He attempts to lift Flesher up for the Barrio Buster, but the Superior One kicks his legs and manages to break Magnifico's grip. The wrestlers flurry back and forth, with Flesher throwing a palm strike, only to be hit back with a knife-edge chop (WHOO!). Flesher returns the favor with another palm strike, only to be hit with another chop (WHOO!). Flesher starts to step into another palm blow, but pauses mid-strike and waves his hands as if to say "No more." He steps back.

 

"Bobby, is that English for 'no mas?'"

 

"Shut up."

 

Flesher backs away, and Magnifico, confused, stops to try to analyze what's happening. As soon as he lets up, CRACK!!!!! Flesher nails him in the jaw with a palm strike! The fans boo loudly at Flesher's cowardly maneuver, and Flesher simply shrugs as he grabs Magnifico by the wrist and whips him into the corner! He follows Magnifico in, and as soon as the luchadore impacts the turnbuckle, the Superior One slams his palm into his face, sending his head snapping back! Flesher steps back, measures the distance carefully, and immediately unloads with a stiff kick to Magnifico's thigh! He kicks Magnifico's quad again, then steps back and starts unloading rapidfire toe kicks into the meaty part of the Luchadore's leg! Kick, kick, kick, kick, kick, kick, and finally, Flesher stops to turn around and play to the crowd.

 

"Look at what Flesher's doing," says Bobby over the roaring boos of the crowd. "He's trying to take El Luchadore Magnifico's leg out to keep him from climbing the cage! He can't win the match if he can't climb the cage!"

 

"It should be noted, Bobby, that Flesher is taking a leaf from Orochi's book. Keep in mind that the relentless kicking to the quadriceps was what made all the difference in Flesher's ICTV loss to the Lightbringer last month."

 

"Pfft. Orochi stole it from Flesher in the first place."

 

"Oh, so Flesher invented the very idea of working the leg, then?"

 

"Sure he did. He also invented standing in line. Before that, everyone used to just mill around."

 

Stevens sighs, the aural equivalent of rolling his eyes. Flesher, meanwhile, is in the ring, facing the crowd and dusting off his hands in a self-satisfied manner. Suddenly, Magnifico takes a step out of the corner and grabs Flesher by the back of his head! Flesher's face briefly bursts into a look of surprise not unlike an inmate's when he realizes that the HVille Thugg's gay younger brother is his cellmate, and with a quick pivot, the SWF's favorite completely legal immigrant slams Flesher's head into the chain link cage! Flesher staggers backward and starts throwing phantom punches, just trying to hit anything he possibly can. Magnifico, meanwhile, keeps his composure and shuffles toward the Superior One, then slams his boot into Flesher's jaw with a powerful superkick! Flesher flops backwards, and to the deafening approval of the crowd, Magnifico makes a run for the cage!

 

"EL Luchadore Magnifico is about to escape from the cage with the SWF World Heavyweight Championship!" shouts Mark Stevens. "And the fans are on their feet!"

 

"Geez, Mark, you don't give Flesher much credit, do you? Magnifico has to use the cage to win the match, and you're STILL excited?! That just shows weakness to me."

 

"It's a steel cage match, Bobby, and Magnifico's scaling the wall!"

 

Magnifico starts to gradually climb up the side of the chain-link prison as the fans burst into a chant of "ELM! ELM!" to cheer him on. The Mexican luchadore sets his sights on the top of the cage as Tom Flesher begins to push his way up to his feet. Magnifico nears the top of the cage just as Flesher makes it to his feet, and immediately the Superior One sprints to the side of the cage. He grabs desperately for Magnifico and manages to grab him around the thighs. He tries to keep Magnifico from making it over the top, but Magnifico keeps woprking to pull himself up, and eventually Flesher resorts to simply falling back to jerk Magnifico from the wall of the cage. The fans boo as Flesher pops up and makes a frantic run for the cage, climbing up the side as fast as he can. Magnifico, not even stunned by Flesher's lame attempt to keep him down, simply grabs Flesher's left leg and yanks him off the cage. Flesher's right leg stays on the chain link, and Magnifico pulls his left leg out in wishbone fashion, leaving Flesher free to impact the ropes full-force with...

 

 

Yeeouch.

 

 

Stevens coughs. Riley coughs. Both men wait for the other to say something, while Flesher merely lays on the mat in the fetal position, turning bright red. Magnifico snickers to himself, then drags his adversary away from the cage and tries to put him flat on his back. Flesher, still in obvious (and understandable) pain, continues convulsing until Magnifico boots him stiffly in the spine. Flesher flattens out, and Magnifico follows that up with another kick to the ribs before he starts scaling the cage. The fans roar with approval as Magnifico nears the top of the cage, getting six inches closer with each step, and finally, when he reaches the top, looking down and seeing Tom Flesher on the mat fifteen feet below.

 

Tom Flesher, the man who made him tap twice at Ground Zero, and who had been riding him ever since.

 

 

Tom Flesher, who looked past Magnifico every time, just setting his sights on the title and ignoring the champion entirely.

 

 

 

Tom Flesher, that fucking prick.

 

Magnifico looks down onto the mat and sees a complete and total waste of skin waiting to be pounded into the mat, just like his mentor Chris Wilson so many years ago. He has the match won, but maybe some things are more important. No, he doesn't have any flags, of course, and so he can't nail Flesher's hands to the mat... but that was kind of unnecessary to begin with. Flesher's barely conscious, after all, so....

 

"Mark, do you think he's-"

 

"Yes, Bobby, I think he is."

 

The crowd goes completely silent as Magnifico leaps into the air off the top of the fifteen-foot cage. He seems to be suspended on a string from the heavens as he arches his back in mid-air and flips backwards in a picture-perfect shooting star turn. As he completes the turn for his Mexican Pride Press, the Washington, DC, crowd cheers loudly for him as he floats down toward his opponent on the mat. Flesher's eyes open suddenly, and they quickly assume the size of dinner plates as he sees the Luchadore falling towards him at his terminal velocity. Flesher, terrified, does the only thing he can think to do.

 

 

He rolls away.

 

 

And, as quickly as they had started to raise the roof on the MCI Center, the Washington crowd goes completely silent as El Luchadore Magnifico falls rapidly toward the mat. He spreads his body out as best he can to absorb all the impact, but he still makes a sickening THUD when he lands. The fans leap to their feet to look to the ring and the SmarkTron to see whether their hero is even breathing, much less alive, after missing a cage-top Mexican Pride Press. The camera zooms in as Magnifico staggers, pushing himself up but falling pathetically back onto his stomach.

 

"Oh my God," murmurs Grand Slam. "Um... guys in the truck, can we get one of the officials to... I don't know..."

 

Riley simply sits silent, shocked by the brutality of the bump just taken by El Luchadore Magnifico. Flesher, shocked as well, adjusts his crotch through the singlet and staggers, stunned, to his feet. The fans fail to see any other course of action and promptly begin booing, insulting and vilely cursing Flesher for letting Magnifico hit the mat.

 

"YOU COCK SUCKER! *clap clap clapclapclap*"

 

"YOU COCK SUCKER! *clap clap clapclapclap*"

 

Flesher stumbles around the ring, listening to the fans cursing and screaming at him, before finally regaining his bearings and looking over at the barely breating Luchadore. Looking curious, he walks over, stopping once or twice to adjust himself again.

 

"Look at that sickening display of self-importance," seethes Stevens. "He cares more about his testicles than about the well-being of his opponent!"

 

"Well, I dunno, Mark. Have you ever been HIT in the groin?"

 

"YOU COCK SUCKER! *clap clap clapclapclap*"

 

"YOU COCK SUCKER! *clap clap clapclapclap*"

 

Flesher raises his eyebrow and looks at the barely-moving body. Inquisitively, he nudges Magnifico in the ribs with the toe of his boot, and the luchadore responds by clamming up and trying to get away. Flesher nudges the body again, and once again ELM tries to move away. Shrugging, Flesher grabs Magnifico and lifts him to his feet. He lets Magnifico go, and the Mexican collapses impotently to the mat, where he grabs painfully at his ribcage.

 

"YOU COCK SUCKER! *clap clap clapclapclap*"

 

"YOU COCK SUCKER! *clap clap clapclapclap*"

 

Flesher reaches down again, looking very much like a three-year-old examining the body at a wake. He lifts ELM to his feet again, this time holding him up. Magnifico, viciously angry and purely hateful of Flesher, does the only thing he can do.

 

He unleashes a knife-edge chop across Flesher's chest.

 

Of course, considering Magnifico's physical state at the moment, it's not a terribly POWERFUL chop to the chest, and Flesher responds by merely shoving Magnifico back down. He looks down at his opponent and callously steps on his sternum, then raises his arms into the air, as the fans continue their chant.

 

"YOU COCK SUCKER! *clap clap clapclapclap*"

 

"YOU COCK SUCKER! *clap clap clapclapclap*"

 

With that, Flesher walks over to the nearest cage wall and begins scaling it. Magnifico looks up and sees Flesher trying to climb up the cage. He starts to pull himself up, but falls back down. Still, determined, Magnifico grabs ahold of the middle rope and uses the steel cable to pull himself up. Staggering like a baby learning how to walk, he stumbles over to the wall, and just as Flesher gets to the top of the cage, Magnifico grabs his ankle. The fans cheer.

 

Flesher feels the added weight on his leg and looks down to see Magnifico with his arms wrapped around the ankle. Flesher tries to shake him off, but Magnifico keeps his body wrapped securely around his lower leg. Flesher frantically swings his leg, trying to shake Magnifico loose, but the luchadore refuses to relinquish his grip. Instead, he stands up and locks his arms around Flesher's thighs. Using all the power he has left, Magnifico jerks his body backwards, pulling Flesher off the wall of the cage. Magnifico falls to the mat, and Flesher lands neck-first on the top rope. He pops back up to full height, then falls backward in a Nestea plunge. Magnifico, operating purely on instinct, rolls over onto Flesher, forgetting that this match can't be won via fall.

 

"El Luchadore Magnifico, clearly... still a bit out of it," says Mark Stevens, sounding very concerned but trying to stay objective. "Hopefully, he's going to be able to... continue the match. Of course, we all would hate to see an injury continue to bother him."

 

"Oh, bitch, bitch bitch," snorts Riley. "You're all worried about Magnifico, but Flesher just dropped neck-first across the top rope! Come on! Show some concern for the next SWF World Heavyweight Champion!"

 

Stevens says nothing, and Riley just mutters under his breath. Flesher rolls away, leaving Magnifico on the ground, and grabs at his throat. He cracks his neck hard from side to side, trying to adjust it so that it feels right. He sits up and makes a motion reminiscent of popping his neck back into place, then stands up. He grabs Magnifico by the wrist and pulls him to his feet, then callously whips him to the corner missing the turnbuckle pad. Magnifico runs full speed into the exposed buckle, slamming in back first. He arches and lets out a pained scream as Flesher saunters over. Flesher measures the distance carefully and starts unloading kicks on Magnifico's thigh once again. He kicks Magnifico over and over again in the quad, trying to get the leg to cramp up. As soon as Flesher lets up for a second, though....

 

SMACK!!!! (WHOO!)

 

Magnifico unloads a chop to the chest! Flesher, caught by surprise, tries to regroup and winds up to kick Magnifico again, but...

 

SMACK!!!! (WHOO!)

 

Magnifico catches him before he can, and grabs him by the back of the head. With a quick pivot, ELM spins around and slams Flesher's face into the exposed steel turnbuckle! Flesher immediately staggers backwards, and Magnifico, operating on pure adrenaline, jumps into the air and nails Flesher in the chest with a dropkick! Flesher collapses, and Magnifico follows it up with a leaping elbowdrop! The fans cheer with approval as Flesher writhes on the canvas. When he gets back up to his feet, a large cut in his forehead is exposed, and blood is beginning to trickle out. He stands to face Magnifico, who catches him with an armdrag and takes him over before he can do anything. Magnifico immediately follows that up with a dropkick to Flesher's back, then walks toward the cage. Still moving slowly from the humongous splat he made earlier in the match, Mags reaches over the top rope for the cage and begins to climb.

 

"Come on, Magnifico," says Stevens, half under his breath. "Fans, what we're seeing out of El Luchadore Magnifico is all heart, pure and simple."

 

"Stevens, that may be the dumbest thing I've ever heard. Magnifico took a ridiculous bump earlier in the match, but it's his JOB to continue wrestling. If Magnifico isn't able to continue, he should just do the honorable thing and let Flesher climb the cage. If he can continue, well, stop griping about it and let the man do his job."

 

"Riley, have you ever worked injured? Do you know what it's like to try to come back from that? Magnifico may have cracked ribs, he may have internal injuries, and all you can say is that it's his job to continue?"

 

"Mark, it's people like you that are turning this society soft. God damn sissies."

 

Magnifico gets a grip on the cage, but pauses to check his ribs. This gives the bleeding Flesher the chance to get up and follow him over to the cage. As Magnifico resumes his climbing, the Superior One chases him up the side of the cage, planting his feet first on the bottom rope, and then on the middle. He grabs Magnifico around the waist and tries to pull him down, but Magnifico refuses to relinquish his grip on the cage. Flesher hammers his back with a series of forearm blows, and yet, the luchadore doesn't let go. Finally, Flesher takes a deep breath, then ducks his head under Magnifico's arm. He tightens the waistlock grip, and with his feet balanced precariously on the middle of the second rope, jerks backwards into a backdrop suplex! With a loud THUD, Magnifico lands squarely on his upper back and shoulders, and Flesher takes a fairly hard landing for his own part. The camera zooms in on the two World Title combatants and sees each man's chest heaving as they try to regain their wind, composure and will to stand on their own power.

 

"What a suplex! Did you see that, Stevens? Did you? I don't think you did!"

 

"Hell of a backdrop suplex from Tom Flesher, showing just how desperate he is to keep El Luchadore Magnifico from reaching the top of the cage. Flesher knows he doesn't have this one won yet, and he needs to continue working over Magnifico's whole body if he plans to take this one home."

 

Flesher and Magnifico start to push themselves back up as the entire MCI Center looks on with bated breath. After what seems like ages, El Luchadore Magnifico gets to his feet, followed closely by Tom Flesher. Flesher measures up and attempts to slam his boot into Magnifico's thigh, but the luchadore sees the telegraphed move coming and dodges it. he follows the dodge up by winding up, aiming high, and cutting into Flesher's Adams apple with a knife-edge chop!

 

WHOO!

 

Flesher grabs at his throat instinctively, trying in vain to take away the pain. Magnifico takes advantage of the distraction by following up with a series of hard knife-edge chops that tear into Flesher's chest.

 

SMACK!!!! (WHOO!)

 

SMACK!!!! (WHOO!)

 

SMACK!!!! (WHOO!)

 

SMACK!!!! (WHOO!)

 

SMACK!!!! (WHOO!)

 

Finally, after the chops begin raising welts on Flesher's exposed chest, Magnifico takes one more look at the bloodied Flesher, then quickly sweeps his leg behind the Superior One and takes him to the mat with an STO! Flesher hits the mat and immediately tries to get back up, but everyone's favorite luchadore has other plans for his opponent. He grabs Flesher's legs, spreads them wide and jumps into the air, driving his head deep into Flesher's abdomen. Tom curls up into a near fetal position around his stomach, and is little besides a sitting duck while El Luchadore Magnifico grabs him by both arms and lifts him up onto his feet. Magnifico strikes him across the chest with another hard knife-edge chop

 

SMACK!!!! (WHOO!)

 

and then whips him into one of the three corners with all the turnbuckle pads still intact. The luchadore follows him in and looks as if he were going to avalanche Flesher, but at the last minute he dives into a forward roll and nails the Superior One with a koppo kick! Flesher slumps in the corner, stunned by the somersaulting leg lariat. Magnifico gets back to his feet, a little more slowly than usual, and steps into the corner. He grabs Tom around the chest in a bear hug and tries to lift him into the corner. Flesher resists as best he can, hooking and holding the ropes with his hands and feet. Magnifico releases his grip and silences Flesher with another series of solid knife-edge chops.

 

SMACK!!!! (WHOO!)

 

SMACK!!!! (WHOO!)

 

SMACK!!!! (WHOO!)

 

SMACK!!!! (WHOO!)

 

Flesher finally capitulates as Magnifico unleashes a fifth knife-edge across the chest.

 

SMACK!!!! (WHOO!)

 

El Luchadore Magnifico once again grabs Flesher in a bear hug. With relatively little effort, compared to the last attempt, at least, Magnifico is able to heave Flesher to the top turnbuckle and seat him on the cornerpost. Magnifico starts to climb and sees the bleeding Flesher starting a cursory attempt to fight back.

 

"Flesher's wearing the crimson mask, and he's STILL fighting back," declares Bobby Riley admiringly. "Who else can fight back when they're losing that much blood? I bet he's lost sixty or seventy percent of it!"

 

Ignoring Bobby's ridiculous exaggeration, Stevens answers with, "Both men have taken a tremendous beating in this matchup already. Anything one man does to the other, any move, can put them down, but these two men just keep fighting. They both have their sights set on the grand prize of wrestling, the SWF World Heavyweight Championship! One of them is going to scale the cage tonight, and they're just slaughtering each other to see who gets that right!"

 

Magnifico tries to keep Flesher seated on the turnbuckle, but the crimson-tinged rudo refuses to stay in place. Magnifico pauses, and then unloads on Flesher with a rock-hard fist to the face! Flesher's head snaps back into the cage, and that gives Magnifico the time he needs to climb up to the top rope. In a flash, he grabs Flesher's head and leaps into the air, locking on a head scissors grip. Magnifico falls backwards, flipping over and sending Flesher crashing to the mat with the avalanche hurricanrana known as the Fall of the Aztecs! The fans cheer wholeheartedly for their hero, El Luchadore Magnifico, as he takes a moment to recuperate from the physically draining move, then pushes himself to his feet. He starts to make his way to the cage.

 

"Magnifico is going to try to escape! The Fall of the Aztecs may be the fall of Tom Flesher!"

 

"Oh, Mark," sighs Bobby, "that was TERRIBLE."

 

Magnifico slowly starts to make his way up the cage, his battered body making it difficult to climb at a consistently good rate. He pauses to check on his ribs, climbs a few more steps, and then has to stop and rest the left quadriceps muscle that's beginning to cramp up. In the meantime, Tom Flesher is able to get to his feet and start moving toward the cage. Magnifico turns and sees Flesher coming, then makes a big decision. Taking a deep breath, he releases his grip on the cage, starting a controlled fall. He lands with both feet firmly in the middle of the top rope, then leaps off. He arches backwards in mid-air, executing an absolutely picture-perfect Asai moonsault. He hits Flesher full-force, slamming into him and sending both men to the canvas to the unquestioning approval of the crowd.

 

"El Luchadore Magnifico is putting his body on the line for this one, fans! These men are both going to need medical attention after this match, and yet they perservere!" Grand Slam's voice is getting hoarse by now. He tries to continue, but Bobby Riley cuts him off.

 

"Tom Flesher is rope-a-doping! He's making Magnifico take risks with his already battered body! It's only a matter of time until Magnifico misses a move, and then Flesher's home free!"

 

Magnifico gets back up, then yanks Flesher to his feet. He grabs the Superior One by the wrist and tries to whip him to the ropes. Flesher sandbags, trying not to get whipped. Magnifico swings out, but Flesher continues sandbagging. Finally, ELM decides to be persuasive.

 

SMACK!!!! (WHOO!)

 

With that, Flesher grabs his chest and relaxes on the sandbag, giving Magnifico the hairs-breadth opportunity to whip him to the ropes! He scuttles over closer to the opposite side of the cage, and as Flesher rebounds, Magnifico drops to the mat. He catches Flesher with a vicious drop toehold and sends him slamming face-first into the chain-link cage! Flesher's blood splatters all over the cage as Magnifico starts toward the cage.

 

... But before he can start moving, Flesher grabs onto his ankle and holds him in the center of the ring. Much like an amateur wrestler trying desperately to hold his opponent back from getting an escape, Flesher reaches around both of his adversary's legs and pulls them close to his body. He tries to yank Magnifico to the mat, but fails. He tries to stand up with Mags' legs, but his opponent won't allow it. With all legitimate courses of action blocked off, Flesher does the only thing he can.

 

 

Yeeouch.

 

 

"Did you see that BLATANT low blow?!" thunders Stevens. "That was ridiculous! Tom Flesher has thrown sportsmanship to the wind. He had a solid game plan coming into the match, and now he's so befuddled by El Luchadore Magnifico that he's resorting to unethical treatment of the testicles!"

 

"Oh, my, my, my, how the tides have turned," smirks Riley. "Flesher gets crotched on the top rope and it's funny, but Magnifico gets hit in the balls in a CAGE MATCH and it's unethical. Jesus, Mark, why don't you retire already? You're completely incapable of calling a match objectively. It's just pure and simple favoritism, and I'm sick of it."

 

Desperate to win the match, Flesher stands up. Chest heaving, body covered in blood and sweat, he grabs Magnifico around the waist and arches backwards. With a loud scream, he throws his foe onto his shoulders in a German suplex. Both men take an extra moment or two to recover, but before Magnifico is functional, Flesher's adrenaline begins to course through his body. He stands up, seething, and locks his hands around Magnifico's waist once more. He lifts him high into the air, and at the apex, he throws his arms backwards and releases his grip! Magnifico soars through the air before landing stiffly on his neck and shoulder, the product of Flesher's six-mile released German suplex. He gets back up, then staggers over to Magnifico. Both men battered and beaten, covered in sweat and Flesher's blood, square off and fight as Tom tries to whip Magnifico into the corner. The luchadore resists, but Flesher's adrenaline rush gets the better of him, and Magnifico goes crashing into the turnbuckles. Flesher charges in at top speed, leaves his feet and slams into Magnifico with an avalanche! The breath comes shooting out of Magnifico's body. Flesher steps backwards and quickly grabs at his own ribs, having taken his own share of the impact. After a moment, though, he steps back into the corner and lifts Magnifico up. He sets his rival on the top rope, then begins his climb.

 

"THIS IS IT!" shouts Bobby Riley. "We're going to see the Boilermaker! There's just no way Magnifico can get up from an avalanche brainbuster! TOM FLESHER IS ABOUT TO TAKE THE SWF WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP!"

 

Flesher locks on the front facelock, looking absolutely emaciated. He stands on the top rope and tries to Jerk Magnifico up, but can't. Between Magnifico's resistance and Flesher's physical state, he just can't get his adversary up for the avalanche brainbuster. Magnifico, having taken advantage of the moment to breathe, simply shoves Flesher off. Flesher is able to keep his balance and lands on his feet. He looks back up to Magnifico, but before he can do anything, Magnifico perches on the top rope and yanks Flesher into the turnbuckle. Magnifico dives off the top turnbuckle, flipping over Tom and grabbing him around the waist. He floats over, lands on his feet and continues the motion through into a vicious power bomb!

 

"EL LUCHADORE MAGNIFICO COUNTERS THE BOILERMAKER WITH THE TEQUILA SUNRISE!" shouts Grand Slam Mark Stevens, unable to contain his excitement. "FLESHER HITS THE MAT HARD! Can he get back up?"

 

"Of course he can!" says Riley indignantly. "... I think..."

 

Magnifico turns toward the cage, and the crowd pops like a champagne cork on New Year's. Everyone's favorite paperless immigrant begins scaling the side of the chain link wall, stopping every few seconds to check on his ribs and thigh. He struggles to climb as Flesher starts to come out of his daze. Magnifico hurries up the side of the cage, still needing to pause, as Flesher staggers to his feet and stumbles toward the wall. He sees Magnifico starting to pull himself over the top of the cage, and struggles to scramble up the side of the cage directly behind the luchadore. Magnifico gets his body over the apex of the cage, but Flesher scurries up his side and faces Magnifico at eye level.

 

"The leader of the Midnight Carnival has two options," says Grand Slam Mark Stevens. "He can either drop fifteen-plus feet to the floor, saving the match but ensuring further injury to his already-bruised and broken body, or he can try to climb down. Unfortunately, Tom Flesher doesn't plan on letting him do either."

 

Flesher reaches up, using his superior strength to chin himself to the top of the cage and grab both of Magnifico's hands. He forces himself to the top of the cage, with his chest, shoulders and head above the top. Magnifico, realizing he doesn't have much choice at this point, tries to jump off, but Flesher keeps his grip on Magnifico's arms. He braces himself against the cage and pulls the SWF World Champion back up to eye level, then locks him in a front chancery.

 

Mark Stevens can only mutter, "Jesus Christ."

 

Bobby Riley shouts, "YES! YES! YES! BOILERMAKER OFF THE CAGE! BOILERMAKER OFF THE CAGE! If you do it to the inside, his brains are going to splatter all over the ring! Let's see him stop you THEN!!!! Hahahahaaaaaaaaaaa, we've got a new champion, Stevens!!!!!"

 

Flesher braces his feet on the chain link of the cage and tries to lift Magnifico for the Boilermaker. Magnifico resists, however. He holds onto the cage and, holding on for dear life, grabs a front chancery of his own.

 

Riley intones, "Magnifico's got nowhere to go! He can't let go! He can't break the facelock! He's got nowhere to go but down!"

 

Nowhere to go but down.

 

Magnifico cranes his neck, and looks behind him. The ramp.

 

 

THE RAMP!!!!!!

 

 

It hits Magnifico like a ton of bricks. Maybe he can avoid this after all. He brings his legs in, slightly lower than Flesher's, to take advantage of his leverage. He tightens his front facelock and, bracing his feet, thanks the Lord Above that Tom Flesher wasn't at all prepared for what's about to happen to him.

 

"OH MY FUCKING GOD!" shouts Stevens.

 

"HOLY FUCKING SHIT!" screams Riley.

 

Magnifico arches back, starting a superplex off the top of the cage and to the ramp on the outside. As he lifts Flesher up, desperately, he throws backwards. Flesher can't believe what's happening. The fans can't believe what's happening. The referees and road agents can't believe what's happening.

 

 

Magnifico suddenly isn't sure if this was a good idea.

 

 

They say it's not the fall that hurts. It's the sudden stop. In this case, Tom Flesher and El Luchadore Magnifico are probably willing to deny that, since neither of them felt anything when they hit. Both men landed hard, and by the time everyone finished murmuring "Holy Shit," the two SWF World Title combatants were both out cold.

 

After hitting at exactly the same time.

 

The crowd bursts into a chant of "HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!" as Eddy Long, John Tortiere, Mark Hebner and the rest of the SWF's crew of officials and road agents runs over and surrounds the pair of combatants. Senior officials Eddy Long and Mark Hebner confer as road agents Ted Flink and Andrea Montgomery frantically summon help.

 

"FLESHER HIT FIRST!" shouts Riley. "FLESHER HIT FIRST!!!!!!!"

 

"Bobby, you couldn't even SEE it from here. Guys in the back... I know we've got two men down, but can we get a replay on the SmarkTron?"

 

Stevens waits a moment, then murmurs a quick "Thank you" as the SmarkTron lights up with a slow-motion instant replay of Magnifico's sick suicide superplex. Sure enough, thanks in part to the slight incline of the ramp, both men hit with a delay so infinitesimal that it's impossible to tell which man hit first.

 

In fact, it doesn't matter. Hebner and Long make their way over to Funyon, both officials obviously shaken by the brutality of the move that ended the match. Hebner leans over and whispers to Funyon, who nods gravely.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen," he announces, "the officials are unable to determine which wrestler touched the ground first, and in any case, neither man has made it to his feet, nor will they be able to."

 

A quick look to the entryway shows EMTs making their ways out with gurneys.

 

"In light of those facts, the senior official has declared this match... A DRAW!"

 

A draw.

 

So much blood spilled. So many beatings. El Luchadore Magnifico with cracked ribs, both men likely to have concussions, and the match ends in a draw.

 

"Still your SWF World Heavyweight Champion.... EL LUCHADORE MAGNIIIIIIIIIIIFICO!!!!!!!!"

 

But the fans aren't cheering. As the medical technicians strap the two competitors to their stabilizing stretchers, the commentators have nearly nothing to say.

 

Two men have sacrificed their bodies tonight, and no one came out the winner.

 

Nothing was settled.

 

Was it worth it?

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was for the SWF World Heavyweight Championship. Without a doubt, it was worth it.

[Guest BA_Baracus]

TRIPLE THREAT HARDCORE TITLE MATCH

Michael Craven © vs. Ced Ordonez vs. Stryke

- Craven is teh hardcorz!

 

SUBMISSION MATCH

Sigil vs. Judge Mental

- Mental uses his uhh...brains I guess, to get the win!

 

NO-DQ US TITLE MATCH

Danny Williams © vs. Annie Eclectic

- Williams beats up a girl and retains!

 

SINGLES MATCH

Alex Zenon vs. Mak Francis

- Good triumphs over evil...who's booked that?!

 

LAST MAN STANDING ICTV TITLE MATCH

Orochi © vs. Nathaniel Kibagami

- No result? Bwuh?

 

SINGLES MATCH FOR A SWF CONTRACT

Hville Thugg vs. Bayawolf [referee - Suicide King]

- Thugg's got his contract and will be killing the workrate once again in the SWF!

 

SWF HEAVYWEIGHT TITLE CAGE MATCH

El Luchadore Magnifico © vs. Tom Flesher

- What happened? Who won? Read to find out.