SWF BATTLEGROUND!!!

May 5, 2003

The shot pans over a serene field... cold and overcast, the small patches of grass that haven't been tampled into the muddy ground sway lightly in the breeze... the calm and yet melloncholly picture is hardly disturbed by a sound in the background... as it slowly grows louder, the sound is recognizable as that of a hellicopter approcahing... it grows louder as the shot continues to pan around the field, the sound of the chopper finally reaching a crescendo! The camer pans up in time to catch an Apache zooming overhead, and into the distance of the sky... and then slowly turning around... black and white war footage of vicious infranty battles fazes in and out across the screen, soundless, as the helicopter turns and rushes back closer... and closer... before the chopper zooms right into the camera, causing a humongous explosion to fill the screen, as a heavy rock riff tears through the air!

Always, known in, all my time,

A little left of center now

Reflect as I realize,

That all I need is to find the middle pillar path to sit like the sun by a star in the sky and

just be.

Sinners, casting stones at me

I... I stand, not crawling, not falling down

I... I bleed the demons that drag me down

I... I stand, (for nothing), not crawling, (the center), not falling down (of calms within the eye)

I... I'll bleed, (for no one), The demons, (but myself), that pull me down (for me and no one else)

Goodbye, sunshine, I've put it out again, sad

I'm over, personalities, conflicting, I don't need you, or anyone, but me, I'll just be, living

my own life

I feel my glowing center grow, infecting

I feel alive

Shovel dirt over lime, plant it in myself to sit like a seed under covers of earth and just be

Sinners, pointing fingers at me

I... I stand, (for nothing), not crawling, (by myself), not falling down

I... I bleed, (for no one), the demons, (but myself), that drag me down

I... I stand, (for nothing), not crawling, (the center), not falling down (of calms within the eye)

I... I'll bleed, (for no one), the demons, (but myself), that pull me down (for me and no one else)

Come play kill

Refuse my body, refuse my shadow

Stond cold will

Refuse to lead this, refuse to follow

Bitter pills

Refuse to feed this, refuse to swallow

I'm fueled godless

Come play, come play

KILL

Just be, just be

I... I stand, (for nothing), not crawling, (by myself), not falling down

I... I bleed, (for no one), the demons, (but myself), that drag me down

I... I stand, (for nothing), not crawling, (the center), not falling down (of calms within the eye)

I... I'll bleed, (for no one), the demons, (but myself), that drag me down (for me and no one else)

The PPV theme, Mudvayne's "Not Falling" blares full force, the music brilliantly mixed with war footage and wrestling clips that could not be properly described by such a low rent author as myself! Deal with it! Finally, the music fades out, closed with a massive explosion as an atomic bomb's mushroom cloud fills the screen, whiting out... and fading back in to the Pepsi Center in Denver, as a mighty pyrotechnique show illuminates the roaring crowd! Mark Stevens greets us...

"And welcome, one and all, to S... W... F... Battleground! I'm "Grand Slam" Mark Stevens, joined as always by Bobby Riley, and we're jam packed to the rafters here in the Pepsi Center!" Stevens shills!

"Indeed, Mark, and for once, what a FANTASTIC show we've got lined up! I mean, my god, Stevens, KING'S GOING TO WRESTLE TONIGHT! KING!" Rilly bounces in his chair as he announces.

"Yeah... I'm just jumping for joy, here." Mark says, behind clenched teeth. "But anyway. We've also got a TLC match for the tag titles, a three way between Frost, Tom Flesher and TNT for the world title, an SO MUCH MORE!" Mark shouts! "But don't take my word for it, let's cut right to the card..."

May 5, 2003

BATTLEGROUND 2003!!!

AN SWF PAY-PER-VIEW EXTRAVAGANZA!

Sunday May 4th!

Live from the Pepsi Center in Denver, Colorado!

Theme song “Not Falling” by Mudvayne.

Arena décor: Decommissioned military vehicles and apparati. The walkway will be flanked on each side by artillery pieces, and the centerpiece will be an AH-64 Apache helicopter that will appear to be crashing into the Smarktron.

FEATURING…

Sean Atlas vs. Dace Night

In their SWF premiere!!!

The two newest recruits to the SWF look to make an immediate mark, and what better way than at Battleground? King has decided that each man will need to bring their all to this PPV event, so he added a little… motivation. If Atlas wins, he will be considered the number one contender to the US Title! If Dace wins though, he will have a chance to bring his own breed of “horrorcore” to the HCG division as he will become its number one contender!

Beezel vs. Janus

A cage match for the HCG Title!

Beezel shocked the world a few paltry weeks ago as he upended the massive Janus to win the HCG Title! Janus has had his chances to get a little revenge, but the smaller and faster Beezel always seems to be one step ahead. The solution? Nowhere to run to baby, nowhere to hide…

Michael Craven vs. Mike Van Siclen

For the US Title!

Craven’s new attitude has alienated a lot of people, but you can’t deny results! The Nightmare will face Van Siclen once more… this time, MVS is looking for a little vindication! And if that means that he has to wipe that smile off of Craven’s face with a chainsaw, so be it!

Jay Dawg vs. Danny Williams

A rematch for the ICTV Title!

The two finalists in the ICTV tournament meet again! Williams has rehabbed and returned with a bold new attitude and a promise to take the belt that should have been his! Jay Dawg… was unimpressed. Promising to injure Williams permanently this time, Dawg agreed to this match in order to wreak some potentially fatal havoc on the technical master!

Neilsen of the Jungle and Michelle vs. the Suicide King and a partner of his choosing

For pride, revenge, and a chance to settle things once and for all!

Neilsen of the Jungle has done what hundreds of men before have been unable to do… get under the Suicide King’s skin! Week after week these two have clashed, with the results getting more violent and comical each time! It’s clear that these egos will be unable to coexist, so King scheduled this little shindig to ensure that this matte came to a head in a way of his choosing. Neilsen, still frothing at the mouth after the last show’s events, quickly agreed, and his Hardcore Queen agreed as well! The only question now is who is King’s ace in the hole? Oh, and that Gambling Man couldn’t resist a little side bet… if he wins, Neilsen is forever prohibited from a World Title shot. If Neilsen pins him, Neilsen will get an immediate World Title shot on the next show. If MICHELLE pins the King of Hearts however, the King of the Jungle and the Suicide King will face off in a singles match at the next PPV, with a stip of Neilsen’s choosing!!! The stakes have never been higher, and neither man is looking to fold! Call, bitch!

Justice and Rule vs. Déjà Vu vs. Wild and Dangerous

A six man TLC match for the Tag Titles!

Justice and Rule have proven themselves to be every bit as dominant as the pundits predicted! They have defeated each of these two teams, but never under such a brutal stipulation! Wild and Dangerous have thrown their hats into the ring once more, and Déjà Vu are nipping at the heels of the champs! Now the belts will be decided under what might be the most dangerous tag stip of them all! Tables… Ladders… and Chairs!!! Can the champs retain under these impossible odds?

AND THE MAIN EVENT…

“THE SUPERIOR ONE” TOM FLESHER VS. FROST VS. TNT

IN A THREEWAY DANCE FOR THE WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT TITLE!

At From the Fire, an era ended as TNT upended the perennial champ El Luchador Magnifico, ushering in the reign of the new blood! One the same show Tom Flesher and his Magnificent Seven cronies turned on Frost with all the savagery of piranhas on steroids! They have sown the wind… and now they all have a chance to reap the rewards! Flesher quickly pounced on the new champion and stripped him of his most prize possession, protecting both it and himself with his trademarked mix of cleverness and cowardice. Both Frost and TNT have had their chances at him since then, but never until now have the odds been as evened! What was King thinking? Surely this Neilsen business must have distracted him, because Flesher will have to channel his most treacherous ways ever to triumph over the righteous indignation of Chilly Chilly Bang Bang! But perhaps King knows more than he lets on… after all, though Frost and TNT are friends, there can still only be one winner…

May 5, 2003

Fade in on Tom Flesher, William Hearford, Ejiro Fasaki and Sean Atlas sitting around a table in the back of the Pepsi Center. Flesher has a dry-erase clipboard, and is making notes on it.

“Sean,” he says, “you’ve got Dace Night. Got your game plan?”

“Hell yeah,” says Atlas.

“Bill, Jir?” says Flesher. “It’s a TLC match. I know you’re out of your element, but it’s just the rookies and Wild & Dangerous. You guys in shape to climb?”

Both men nod.

“Good shit. Get the high flyers out of the picture early… and take the rookies out of the picture entirely. Got me?” Again, both Justice & Rule members nod. “And hey, keep those belts around.” He looks over to Atlas. “You too. Eyes on the prize. Get that US Title contendership sealed tonight. There’s a bonus in it for you.”

“What about you, man?” asks Ejiro. “Are you ready for your title match?”

“Always, Ejiro, always. But… if you’ll excuse me, I have some business to tend to. And if anyone sees Janus, ask him what the hell is up.”

With that, Flesher gets up and walks out of the room.

Hearford leans over to Atlas. “Seriously, Sean. Can you take out Dace Night?”

“William, he hasn’t got a prayer.”

Fade out.

May 5, 2003

As the opening sponsorship messages fade off the screen, the image of Pepsi Centre and it's crowd fade in.

A mock up of an AH-64 Apache helicopter in buried into the Smarktron, and all down the flanks of the entrance ramp, there are various artillery pieces.

Stevens: Welcome to all at home, and in the bars and clubs, ready for the opening match, of this two thousand and three, SWF Battleground Pay Per View!

Riley: I love these matches. Two up and comers just bumped up from the what do you call that, that training league thing we have... The SJL. Full of fire and hope, giving all they've got make a big first impression, and the fans just don't give a shit.

Stevens: You also love if because you get the chance to check them both out Bob.

Riley: Oh so cruel Mark. We've got some Hardcore loving Goth and this technical Atlas guy. But to be fair to Atlas, he's in the right direction with what he's doing, and given the right care and guidance, he could become a real star, like the Mag Seven.

Stevens: People look to different places for guidance all the time Riley, and according to news from the last SJL PPV, you know they actually have PPVs in that fed but anyway, Danny Williams has taken this fresh bumpee, and one of his SJL comrades, who's name I can't say, under his wing in this stable. So we could see a lot from both men.

Riley: We could see a lot of sleeping fans in this match, unless these two really light a fire. I doubt many people follow this SJL thingy, so they're going to have to make an introduction with style.

As Stevens and Riley bitch at ringside, Funyon climbs the ring steps and steps between the ropes and into the ring.

Funyon: Ladies and Gentlemen, the following match, for one falls, will be the SWF debut for the two competitors!

There's a small ripple of cheers form the die hard followers of both feds, and those waiting for the first bathroom break.

Funyon: If Dace Night wins, he will be the Number One Contender for the Hardcore Games Title.

If Sean Atlas wins, he will be the Number One Contender for the US Title.

Stevens: Both of these guys getting a chance to win a big break in their very first SWF match. Not many get that chance.

Riley: And even less are worth it.

Funyon: Introducing firstly, from Birmingham, England, at 6 foot four and two hundred and fifty four pounds, he is ... DACE 'HORRORCORE' NIGHT!"

Fuel For Hatred screams into life as the lights die down. The ramp bursts into a wall of black pyro from the cannons at the side of the ramp before the red and purple lights swirl around the stage.

Stepping out onto the top of the ramp, Dace Night stands red and sliver patterned black tights. Striding down the ramp, he returns calls to the few fans that really know who he is.

Climbing the ring steps, he pulls off his t shit, and throws it too the floor. Stepping between the ropes into the ring, he throws horns to the handful of fans cheering.

Standing in the corner, he flexes slowly and awaits Atlas.

With short black hair, spiked up, with red and purple tips onto the spike. Pale skin, well built, pale red eyes.

Funyon: His opponent, from Chicago, Illinois, at six foot four and two hundred and forty pounds, he is ... SEAN ATLAS!"

In a spectacle of an entrance, to get some heat, Heaven is a Lie kicks in and the whole stage is filled with a bright white light, from search lights mounted on the abandoned vehicles.

The door in the stage opens, and a large Crucifix rises up from under the stages, baring the masked figure of Sean Atlas. As the whole Crucifix structure clears the stage, a huge explosion of pyro goes off, as Atlas jumps down from the Cross.

Striding down the stage towards the ring, under the booing of following fans, some applause from people impressed by the display, but the general indifference given to Dace.

Sliding into the ring, Sean Atlas glares across the ring at Dace Night, then around the arena, waving his arms, trying to provoke the fans.

The mask on his face is white, with a black strip across the eyes. White wrist tape, black boots, and white patterned tights. On his left shoulder is the creatively drawn MS tattoo.

Riley: Ok, the fans have it half right, not giving a shit about this Dace Night, but they really should give Sean Atlas some support, he some potential after all, he might even proven to be good.

Stevens: I think the fans are being fans, Riley, they don't know these guys at all. They're going to have to give the fans something to yell about, or they'll get the wrong kind of heat.

Riley: Like other people we've seen, heh, that would be rather fitting, put these damn JLs in their place.

Looking at each other from across the ring, Dace and Atlas exchange a few brief moments of jaw jacking at each other, and probably about the crowd.

Riley: Night caps at the ready, folks, if you want to get some snacks, or pick up some great M7 items from the stalls in the arena, now is the time, but don't be too long, we wont let them wreck the show, unless Atlas turns out to be something great.

Stevens: And what if Dace does that?

Riley: We'll cut to the break at the first sign of that happening.

Soapdish waves his arms, signalling for the start of the match.

DING, DING, DING!

Dace and Atlas charge at each other from across the ring, Dace ducking low, but Atlas Leapfrogs over him, only for Dace to drop to the mat and roll away.

Atlas lashes out a kick to the mid section, which lands in Dace's arms, who rolls back over himself while passing forwards through Atlas' legs, tripping him face first into the mat. Dace comes up on top and sits back, trying to grab Sean's other leg.

But still having that second leg free, Sean uses it to push himself back over on the mat and throw Dace off.

Small sections of crowd respond with mixed applause and jeers.

Stevens: Looks like these two men aren't forgetting their past meetings with each other in the SJL.

Riley: You actually know what they did in the SJL? What's the point of it anyway, not like many people here have seen it, so it doesn't mean jack to them. How accurate can that fact sheet be anyway?

Stevens: Hey, like you said, it's from a facts sheet I got, but it can't be that right, it says both of these guys where World Champions!

Riley: I had one of them, ripped it up when I saw that bit. Someone really needs to tell the JL what the World Title is, and the fact that it's in the SWF only.

Side stepping a Lariat from Dace as he rolls back to his feet, Atlas goes into a spin, grabbing onto Dace's leg on the way past, and pulls his legs right out from under him, sending him thudding to the mat.

Holding on, Atlas braces himself for a Wheelbarrow Suplex, but Dace leans his arms under his body and rolls himself forwards, once again pulling Atlas off his feet and down to the mat with a roll through.

Now in the position Atlas was just in, Dace leans back, dragging Atlas closer to him, before locking his arms around the Masked Man's mid section, and hauls him up into a Rear Waistlock.

Throwing his elbow backwards, Atlas sends it crashing into the Brummie's skull, then taking advantage of the disorientation, takes a step backwards, hooking his arm around Dace's head and hooking his leg, before dropping backwards with a Side Russian Leg Sweep.

Stevens: Leg Tackle, Dace rolls through, German Suplex attempt countered into a Side Russian Leg Sweep.

Riley: Not really exciting stuff to be honest, but maybe when Atlas gets the upper hand properly, he'll show us that he's worthy of the bump someone was so kind to give him.

Stevens: And maybe the fans will give some more reaction.

Atlas is back on his feet, quickly followed by Dace, but he cuts him off with a series of stiff kicks to the mid section. One more to the gut, and Atlas slap on a quick Facelock to spike Night down to the mat with a DDT.

A few boos here and there. The crowd are all still in their seats at least.

Knowing Dace Night better than to bother attempting a cover at all, Atlas moves for his next attack, grabbing onto Dace by the arm and whipping him towards the ropes.

Holding on, Atlas reels him back in, snapping his arms shut like a bear trap, ready for a Belly to Belly Suplex. Dace doesn't take kindly to being thrown around, and jams a knee into the ribs of Atlas.

Staggering back, Atlas dodges another knee, before throwing his body forwards foot first, and smacking Dace in the jaw with a Superkick.

SMACK!

Following him down to the mat, Sean makes a quick first cover, as Soapdish makes the count.

......Kickout!

Stevens: Atlas following up with a DDT. Then tries for a Belly to Belly Suplex, gets cut off, but scores with a Superkick in revenge but a kick out before the count of one.

Riley: Nothing to really shout about yet, but Atlas is showing some good solid wrestling, but I have he has more to show us in this match.

Launching himself back onto his feet, Dace tries to grab hold of Atlas, but he's not fast enough, as Sean slips behind him into a Rear Waistlock.

As Dace is on the move, Atlas can't get a good grip, and Night just swings himself around, out of the hold, ring into another counter.

Grabbing onto the arm swinging for his head, Atlas twists and swings behind Dace again, this time pulling his arms across his chest. Locking the other one in place, he forms a Straightjacket.

Not having the time to really sink in, Atlas sends his whole body over backwards, taking Dace with in, sending him crashing shoulders first into the mat with a Cross Armed German Suplex.

Riley: Cross Armed German, I hope that was in tribute, or the World Champ Tom Flesher won't be happy.

Stevens: Atlas nailing the first big move of the match, this could be where the crowd gets going. And his he even going to allow Dace Night to get off the starting block really.

Atlas can't hold on for a Bridge, but he follows it up with a cover, as the few more people are booing now.

......ONE!

Kickout!

Stevens: One and a kickout.

Clamping on a Front Facelock even before Night is all the way back to his feet, Atlas goes on the attack again, but this time Dace digs his heels into the mat, and uses his strength to back Sean into the corner.

Soapdish springs in, ordering the two men apart on the ropes. Atlas raises his hands slowly, but also moves to keep Soapdish infront of him.

Dace rockets up, shoving Soapdish out of his way and hammers home an Elbow Smash.

CRACK!

Some Danny Williams fans in the crowd wake up at the sound.

Stevens: Huge Elbow Smash from Dace, almost cleaning Atlas' clock with that one.

Riley: He's just down right stealing from Danny Williams there. Danny.. an man that seems to be going down the wrong path now a dies.

Stevens: Another one from the sheet. Danny has taken Dace under his wing for a team of some king. Apparently Dace uses a very similar style to Danny Williams.

Riley: Probably in a desperate attempted to get the crowd to cheer for him.

With Atlas stunned for just a moment, Dace forces himself into the corner, and starts driving home knees into Sean's gut.

Soapdish starts a call for the rope break.

......ONE!

......TWO!

......THREE!

......FOUR!

Slowly backing off from the corner, Night drags Sean with him.

Looping his arms over in a Front Facelock, the Goth throw's Atlas' arm over his shoulders, before snapping back to the mat, sending the Masked Man over with a Snap Suplex.

Rolling up, Dace hauls Sean all the way into the air this time, letting him hang before dropping back with a big Suplex.

A second roll up, Night drops his shoulders, locking his arms around Sean's waist and snaps his back again, bridging over, into a Northern Lights Suplex, for a pin.

A few more fans respond with time, cheering can actually be heard, but not much.

Stevens: Series of your standard textbook like Suplexes from Dace, here comes the count.

Riley: Ohh, how exciting. Let's have Atlas back on the attack, he has some promise.

......ONE

...Kickout!

Still keeping his arms locked around Atlas, Dace drags him back up, and slams another knee into his ribs, before switching his grip, one arm through Sean's legs, the other over his shoulders.

Flexing the Brummie lifts Atlas up and swings him over, before diving back to the mat with a Powerslam.

Another cover as Soapdish drops in.

......ONE

.....Kickout!

With another Kickout, Atlas rolls away cross the mat, as Dace just stands back up, and follows him. Sean stands back up, to be meet by an Elbow Smash.

CRACK!

Three heavy Elbows force the Masked Man back against the ropes, then fires him off across the ring.

Taking a few steps towards the middle of the ring, the Brummie crotches as Atlas comes flying back from the ropes. Throwing his arms forwards, he catches hold of Atlas and lifts him up over head.

A little oohhing goes on as Dace presses Atlas over his head before throwing him back to the mat, spine first.

Stevens: Dace showing off some of that strength, easily pressing two hundred and forty pounds of Atlas. It looks like Dace has the strength advantage, but just from the way he moves, Atlas his quicker.

Riley: And another thing, those fans that are reacting to these guys, Atlas is getting more of reaction each time. Ok, so they're giving the wrong reaction, but he's getting far more than Dace.

Standing over the fallen Sean Atlas, Night drops to his knees, driving a knee into Atlas' chest.

Pulling the struggling Atlas to his feet, Dace forces him to double over, and drags him into a Standing Headscissors, calling for a Powerbomb.

As the Brummie reaches over to wrap his arms around Atlas' waist, Sean drops to his knees to try to escape the move but Dace locks his arms anyway and simply tries to deadlift Atlas.

Atlas tries forcing himself forwards into a Takedown, but can't get the needed leverage without standing up and very probably being Powerbombed.

So, changing directions, Atlas tries to stand up and flip over for a Backdrop. Not taking the risk either, Dace steps backwards, releasing Atlas from the Headscissors.

Sending a knee lunging forwards, Dace tries to crack Atlas' face open, but he's not fast enough, as Atlas grabs hold of his leg, taking a step back and unleashes a kick of his own.

SMACK!

It slams home into the side of Night's ribs, but stays there as Night clamps his arm down over it, trapping it. Leaping forwards, Sean backflips, kicking Dace in the face on the way over before landing back on his feet.

Stevens: That one is apparently the Cruise Kick, nice counter move, knocking Dace backwards.

Riley: Hmmmm....

Stevens: Riley, stop looking at his ass.

From the crouch he landed in, Sean rockets forwards, tackling Dace off his feet with a Spear to a few boos, before he starts raining down right hands.

Keeping a hold on Dace as he pulls himself back up, Atlas whips Dace across the ring into the ropes. The Brummie comes flying back across the ring, but as he barrels into Atlas, he just grabs on and swings round.

Off balance, Atlas finds himself taking a trip across the ring into the ropes and back towards the waiting arms of Dace Night. Throwing his legs forwards, Atlas drops to the mat, slipping through with a Baseball Slide.

Dace swings round on his heel, only for Sean to sweep him up from his feet, turn and plant him down with a Spinebuster.

As he plants Night down, Atlas flips forwards, pulling Dace's legs over him body into a Jacknife Hold and Soapdish drops in for the count.

......ONE!

......Kickout!

Stevens: Spinebuster into a Jacknife for a one count.

Riley: Atlas, you gonna use flash and the big guns. To take out your opponent and get the crowd going.

Stevens: I'm not sure that's always the best thing to do Riley, but we'll see.

Dace hauls himself back up, but meets a boot to the gut from Atlas, who slips around him. Bringing one arm up and the over one over, Atlas locks on a Half Nelson and a Chicken Wing, attempting a Tequila Sunrise.

Swinging his body forwards, Dace tries to roll out of the hold, but Atlas follows him down to negate the momentum so Dace jerks his head back, cracking the back of his skull into Atlas' masked face.

With a Standing Switch, Dace locks his arms around Sean from behind and snaps them both over with a German Suplex.

There's a few 'ohhs' and cheers from around the crowd as Atlas bounces on his neck.

Stevens: Dangerous German Suplex, dumping Atlas on his neck.

Riley: And it wasn't a patch on anyone else's version of the move Mark.

Taking a few moments to shake himself out, Dace then advances on the downed Sean Atlas.

Dropping to his knees, he grabs Atlas by his mask and tries to pull him into a Facelock.

Atlas tries to escape by back rolling across the mat, but Dace catches his legs as he goes over.

So Atlas twists again, rolling to the side in an effort to spin Dace over.

Night switches his grip as Atlas rolls and drags him into a Rear Waistlock, so Atlas tries the same counter Dace just did, only with a twist. He throws his body forwards, but rolls to the side at the same time, catching Dace by surprise.

Crashing to the mat on his back, Dace lands under Atlas, who lies across him, parallel. Quickly snapping on a Side Headlock, Atlas tries to push his body weight up to pin Dace's shoulders down to the mat.

With a counter of his own, Night latches onto Sean's leg, and twists his body around, moving Atlas' head closer to his legs. Dace then throws his legs up, hooking them around Atlas' neck and shoulders.

Completing the roll, Dace sits up, pinning a doubled over Atlas to the mat.

.....ONE!

Atlas kips up, which throws Night onto him back, as Sean sits on his chest for a cover.

......ONE

Dace rolls forwards, pinning Atlas back in the same place he just escaped from.

......ONE!

This time, Atlas rolls backwards out of Dace's grasp and then charges forwards, rolling Dace onto his back as he slides over for the cover.

......ONE!

Shifting his weight, Dace rolls over to his side and comes out on top, pinning Atlas.

......ONE!

Tucking his knees up, Atlas lunches Dace overhead with a small flip, dropping him back first to the mat, then quickly leans back over him.

......ONE!

Reaching up from underneath, the Brummie locks his arms around Sean's chest and ..

......TWO!

Bridges up to his feet, forcing Sean up with him. Rolling over Dace is standing upright, and tries to pull Atlas into a Standing Headscissors, but it's reversed once again as the Masked Men bounds forwards, tackling Dace back to the mat in another cover.

......ONE!

One last roll over, but this time Dace doesn't stop when he's onto of Atlas, he makes another half roll, so he's sitting on Atlas's legs.

Atlas rears up, just as Dace brings his arms swooping in, clamping on a Front Facelock Chokehold.

As the action finally slows down, more fans are cheering. Now at the level of some fans, rather than just scattered ones and twos.

Stevens: Sean Atlas and Dace Night chain wrestling back and forth, exchanging pin falls but Dace comes out on top with a Front Necklock, as he's sitting on Atlas' legs to cut off any movement as well, very smart.

Riley: Very boring. These people can see guys with better mat skills doing this stuff.

Stevens: It looks to me like these two might actually be very good Riley.

Riley: It looks to me like you still need glasses, for many reasons. When Atlas does something good, I'll recognise it ok.

With one arm wrapped over Atlas' head and around his throat, then another hooking the first to keep it in place, Dace had a vice like grip, which is cutting off the air into the lungs, and the blood to the brain at the same time.

With the way he's sitting, almost doubled over, Atlas' can't kick because Dace is sitting on his legs, and can't make any effective swings with his arms to free himself.

He tries pushing and rolling but Dace wrenches down on the hold, with a weight and strength advantage.

Leaning all the way back, Dace brings his legs round, scissoring them around Atlas' waist, while sitting on his lap, cutting off almost any escape.

Atlas desperately tires to pound away at the legs squeezing his ribs, but the arms squeezing his neck make his efforts useless.

With every moment Dace has the hold locked on, Atlas' efforts to break free become weaker and weaker.

Stevens: It looks like Atlas is fading in that Front Necklock, this one could be over soon.

Riley: Please, what are you on about. We couldn't have such a boring conclusion, a nice flashy Sean Atlas victory is what this match needs to be a good opening match and a good debut match.

Soapdish moves in to check on Atlas, and to see whether or not he can continue, but as he does so, Dace unwraps his legs and pushes himself up to a standing position.

Unhooking one arm, the Goth grabs onto Sean's tights after throwing his arm over his shoulder. The Goth leans back and back and drags Atlas straight up into the air, letting him hang.

The blood finally rushes back to Atlas' head, just in time to allow him to feel the pain as Dace throws his feet out, dropping back and drills Atlas neck first into the mat.

Stevens: Sheer Drop Brainbuster on Atlas, following up that Front Necklock to add to the effects.

More fans are cheering now.

Pivoting over, Dace makes a cover.

......ONE!

......TWO!

.......1/4!

......1/2!

Kickout!

And those same fans are booing as Sean Atlas kicks out.

Bailing out of the ring under the bottom rope, Atlas tries to get himself some time to recover.

Soapdish leans over the ropes, calling for Atlas to get back into the ring, as he starts a count.

......ONE!

......TWO!

......THREE!

......FOUR!

......FIVE!

Dace slides under the ropes, and nails Sean in the back of the head with an elbow.

CRACK!

The fans at ring side follow with a small oohhing.

......SIX!

......SEVEN!

Night rolls Atlas back into the ring and follows him back in.

Picking Atlas up by his pants, Dace loops one arm through his legs, hooking one of Atlas' legs, and lifts Atlas back over with a Backdrop Suplex.

The boos can now be clearly heard as Atlas flips out of the attempted Backdrop.

The Brummie spins around, but Atlas sweeps one leg, as he drives his arm into Night's chest, tackling him to the mat with an STO.

Stevens: Backdrop Suplex, but Atlas escapes, then hits and STO.

Riley: Now this is what I like to see.

Both men are down, as Atlas takes the time to get his breath back rather than pinning Dace.

Forcing himself up before a count is started, Atlas continues gulping down air.

As Dace start getting back onto his feet, Atlas goes for a Facelock of his own, but traps Dace's arm as well, before swinging him over into an Immaculate Neckbreaker.

Booing again, but it's from the same fans. Those that where making the first calls, and those than joined in.

Pushing himself back onto his feet, Atlas rolls back over, then wraps his arms around Night's waist and throws him back overhead with a Belly to Belly Suplex, sending him crashing into the mat.

Atlas stands over the back of the fallen Dace Night, and hauls him up by his arms. Sean loops his arms up and over with a Full Nelson hold, then reaches forwards with one leg, and sweeps Dace forwards from his feet, face first to the mat.

More ohhing and ahhhing cries as Night's face thuds into the canvas.

Rather than making a cover, Atlas heads towards the turnbuckles, climbing slowly up to the top rope. As Dace stirs on the mat, rolling over onto his back, and clutching his face, Atlas balances for a moment then dives through the air.

The Splash isn't beautiful, but it's a solid Splash, with a hint of Froginess, as Atlas plummets to the mat and...

Stevens: Full Nelson Reverse Russian Leg Sweep, and Atlas goes up to.

Riley: Ohh, high flying action might be what we need, but Atlas doesn't look like a flyer, even with the mask.

Connects on Dace Night's chest straight into a cover.

......ONE!

......TWO!

.......1/4!

......1/2!

......3/4!

Kickout!

Stevens: The calls are getting closer now, but still a firm kickout at two from Dace.

Riley: He won't be so lucky next time.

Not bothering wasting his time being pissed off, Atlas starts stomping away on Dace's head with a rain of boots.

Grabbing the top rope for support, Atlas stomps with renewed effort even as Soapdish starts a rope count.

......ONE!

.....TWO!

Still the boots rain down

.....THREE!

Trying to wear Dace down.

......FOUR!

...... And Atlas steps back just before the count of five.

More of the fans are booing now, in the wake of Atlas classic heel tactics. For added measure he throws the fans the middle finger, just to be sure.

Dragging Night back from the ropes, the Atheist picks him back up onto his feet. Latching onto one arm, Atlas pulls the Goth's arm through his own legs, doubling him over.

Stevens: Looks like a Pumphandle Suplex, Atlas hasn't made an focus on his attacks, but most of this attacks so far have been on the back and the mid section, trying to keep Dace on the ropes and open for the bigger moves.

Riley: Stevens, leave my job alone.

But as Atlas tries to lock the Brummie's other arm, he has to duck a wild back Elbow Smash as Dace swings out in an effort to escape.

As the Masked Men ducks, he twists to his side, and sees an open. Throwing his arm forwards and around Dace's throat and shoulder, Sean plants both feet firmly on the mat at sends Night flying over head with everything he's got.

OOOOHHHHHH! It's not as many fans as it would have gotten in the SJL, but it's a clear ringing sound.

Stevens: EXPLODER '98! Dace lands right on his head and neck! It's over!

Riley: Yes, this is the potential Atlas has in him. He's got this one won!

Atlas scrambles back to his feet, looking to make the quickest possible cover, but not everything goes to plan.

After bouncing off his head, Dace simple bounds right back to his feet, and charging at Atlas with a roar, plants a boot in his face with a huge Yakuza Kick.

YYYAAAAHHHH! Building on the roar just before, the crowd start pulling behind the display from the two men.

As Atlas drops to the mat like he's just been hit by a truck, Dace crumples to the mat beside him like he's just been hit by a bigger one.

Stevens: And Dace just rockets to his feet and levels Sean Atlas with that Yakuza Kick.

Riley: Don't be happy so face, Dace just collapsed as well. I guess he might have been tough enough to put off the effects of the Exploder '98, but he couldn't shrug them off all together.

Stevens: Very true, and now it's a case of how can get back on the offensive first.

Riley: It'll be Atlas, I doubt a Yakuza Kick did more damage than a head drop.

Soapdish brings his arms high in the air, as he stands to count both men down.

.....ONE!

......TWO!

......THREE!

......FOUR!

......FIVE!

......SIX!

......SEVEN!

......EIGHT!

Atlas takes a huge gasp and rolls over

.....NINE

Just draping one arm over Dace Night's chest.

Soapdish drops to the mat in a flash and starts the pin fall.

......ONE!

......TWO!

......1/4!

......1/2!

......3/4!

...Kickout!

RRRRAAHHHH! Those fans that are cheering are cheering in full force, the arena is building in it's reactions all the time.

Pushing himself back onto his feet, the Atheist shakes his head slowly, after having it knocked about. Seeing Night slowly pushing himself back up, Sean goes in for the kill.

Ducking his body down, he pops it up under Dace's ribs, slinging Dace over his shoulder and standing up into a Fireman's Carry.

Stevens: Atlas is going for his Saint's Demise finishing move, a Jumping DVD.

Riley: After that last big move, I don't think Dace is getting out of this one. And just the way it should be too.

Atlas steadies himself as he stands up, but Dace is already frantically kicking his legs. Atlas jumps, as Dace kicks down with every bit of strength he can muster.

OOOOHHHH!

To escape The Saint's Demise, landing on his feet infront of Sean. Driving his knee forwards, he slams in home into Atlas' chest then hammers him off his feet with a Lariat.

Stevens: No! Dace escapes and levels Atlas with a Lariat.

Following Atlas all the way down to the mat, the Goth starts unloading Elbow Smashes into his face.

CRACK!

Pick the Atheist up from the canvas by his hair and mask, Dace slams home a gut turning knee to the stomach, before hooking his leg and waist.

Easily lifting Atlas backwards into the air, give him a little push, putting Atlas up into the from his shoulder. Then spinning around, Dace grabs Sean's hips as he falls and drives him to the mat with a Powerbomb.

RRRRRAAAAAHHHH! Almost a third of the fans are cheering along now.

Keeping the hold, Dace dead lifts all two hundred and forty pounds back into the air from the mat. Twisting Atlas over, he lays him across his shoulders in a Fireman's Carry, but rather than resort to coping his finisher, Dace does something else.

Swinging the Masked Man's head forwards, the Brummie lets Sean hang down in front of him, before locking his arms around his waist. Taking a step back, the Brummie arches up onto his tip toes, then drops to his knees like a land slide.

Stevens: Tombstone Piledriver off the Powerbomb, a nice chain spot from Dace Night there. And really working the neck too.

Riley: Oh please, less than half the fans care about this guy. Atlas could do something better of course. Just like the great Tom Flesher.

Atlas slowly topple forwards onto his back, and Dace drops forwards across him for the pin.

......ONE!

......TWO!

......1/4!

......1/2!

......3/4!

.......Kickout!

NNNNOOOOOOO!

Sean tries to sit up and get to his feet to fight back, but Dace sees a prime opening from behind, and snakes his arms around Sean's throat with a Sleeper Hold.

Stevens: Now Night with the basic sleeper hold, but at this stage in the match, I don't know how well Sean Atlas will be about to counter that one or last it out.

Riley: I'm sure there's something wrong with what's going on right now.

Stevens: No Riley, it isn't that they're not having gay sex.

Turning to the side, the Goth pins Atlas face first to the mat under him, still with his arms locked around his neck in the Sleeper Hold.

Atlas tries to roll out, or crawl the pale arms from around his neck, bit even as he does so, they slip away.

CRACK!

So they can drive home an Elbow Smash into the back of the neck.

Standing up, Dace Night stares down at the laid out Atlas. Leaning down, and scooping him up, Dace cinches in a Rear Waistlock and just blindly throws Atlas over head.

AAAAAHHHHHH! The audible third of the arena cry out as Atlas sails across the ring and lands on his neck with a crunch.

Fingering his mid section as he picks himself up, Dace quickly shrugs it off, as advances across the ring on the almost unmoving Atlas.

Stevens: My god, what a German Suplex, sending Atlas across the ring on his neck. That's really a way to soften someone up for your finisher.

Dragging Atlas back from the ropes to stop an easier escape, Dace hooks a leg and rolls back across his chest in a cover.

......ONE!

......TWO!

......1/4!

......1/2!

......3/4!

......9/10!

Kickout!

NNNNNOOOOOOO! The fans that are making noise are making as much of it as they can.

As Sean Atlas' left arm flies up into the air for the kickout, Dace just turns round and grabs onto it.

Standing up, hauling Sean along with him, the Brummie Goth whips the Masked Man away from him, before slamming on the breaks and reeling him back in.

SMACK!

AAAHHHHHH!

A sloppy effort from his dazed state, but the foot driven into Dace Night's face from the Superkick was still enough to send him toppling to the mat and by Atlas some time.

Dace is quickly back on his feet, pulling himself up by the ropes.

Fuelled with adrenaline from his reversal moments ago, Atlas bursts to his feet, sending one arm shooting up under Dace's shoulder in a Half Nelson, and slaps the other one across his throat.

Stevens: Katahanjime Choke! But Dace is on the ropes, it won't do Atlas any good unless he can drag him away to stop the break.

Riley: He will do, he must. Or he won't be showing he's got what it takes.

BREAK! Yells Soapdish

......ONE!

But Atlas has no intention of dragged Dace from his grip on the ropes. With one wild kick slamming into his mid section, trying to weaken Dace's grip, Sean starts to collapse backwards, but takes Night with him.

RRRRAAAAAAHHHH!

Stevens: And that's another great way to soften someone up for your finisher, Atlas dropping Dace Night on his neck with a Katahanjime Suplex!

Riley: I told you he had what it takes. I was behind this boy from the minute we brought him up. These fans should be too.

BBBBBOOOOOO! More than a third of the fans are booings now.

Once again, both men are down on the mat, clutching their heads, kicking their feet, trying to block out the pain and get back to the fight.

Soapdish starts the double count down again.

......ONE!

......TWO!

......THREE!

......FOUR!

......FIVE!

......SIX!

Arms start moving, as both men stir

......SEVEN!

They crawl back onto their feet.

......EIGHT!

Almost there.

...... NINE!

YYYYAAAAAHHH! There!

Like two injured animals, Atlas and Dace charge across the ring at each other, determined to take the other man out.

Dace swings high with a Yakuza Kick, but Atlas swings low with a Spear, knocking Dace off his feet and sending both of them skidding across the mat.

Managing to pull himself back to his feet first, still with his arms locked around Dace's legs, Atlas goes straight to the quickest possible move.

Spreading the Goth's legs wide, and stepping one of his own legs through, Sean Atlas cross them back around his legs and starts to turn over.

Stevens: Sharpshooter! Sharpshooter! Their right by the ropes, but if Atlas can lock with his one in, it could be over right now.

Riley: Someone quick, ring the damn bell!

Atlas leans back, trying to get the leverage to roll Dace over, but at the same time, to keep him away from the ropes, and to put distance between his legs, body and head, and the arms of Dace Night.

Doing what's almost a sitout, Dace wraps his arms around his own legs, and Sean Atlas', even as Atlas uses his free hand to rain down fists to the head to shake Dace's grip.

Suddenly throwing his upper body backwards, Dace tries to snap Sean over and grab the bottom rope at the same time.

Atlas staggers forwards, but keeps his hold and leans right back, with an even stronger effort to roll Night over.

Placing his arms behind himself, Dace pushes his back up from the mat, in a form of a crab, taking off all the weight and leverage Atlas had. It also arches his legs further forwards over his body, pulling Atlas closer.

Sending his arms swinging forwards, Night locks them onto Atlas' arms, and as he drops back, pulls Atlas over off his feet onto his face.

YYYAAAHHHH!

Bailing back onto his feet, Dace pulls Atlas with him, shoving him back into the close by corner, before raining home his old faithful Elbow Smashes.

CRACK!

With Sean stunned, Night steps back from the corner, then with a roar, hurtles in from almost point blank range, rising his boot and slamming it into the Masked Man's face, snapping it backwards.

SMACK!

RRRRAAAAHHHHH! The roar is getting louder, even now, with close to half the fans behind it.

Stevens: What a Yakuza Kick, almost taking Sean's head off!

Crumpling to the mat, Atlas lays still, as Night rolls him over and covers.

......ONE!

......TWO!

BBBBOOOOOOOO!

With a last gasp, Atlas slides his leg out under the bottom rope, forcing a rope break from the pin fall.

Riley: Now, there's experience and skill you need in the SWF. That Sean Atlas is showing right there. Getting his leg under the bottom rope to break the pin fall. All because Dace didn't drag him out of the corner.

Knowing Atlas is still reeling, Dace pulls him straight up into a Front Facelock, and brings him right up into the air for a Suplex or Brainbuster.

A shift of weight, a shift of the tide, a shift in the match. Atlas leans and drops, bringing all his weight dropping to the mat, rolling Dace Night up as he hits the mat, into an Inside Cradle, and pulling back on his tights, trying to get the win.

......ONE!

......TWO!

......1/4!

......1/2!

......3/4!

.......9/10!

......Kickout!

YYYAAAAHHHHHH! Nearly half the fans are cheering and calling as Dace kicks out, even with Atlas holding his tights.

Even as Atlas finds himself thrown off, Dace rushes forwards, clamping on a Rear Waistlock, and jumping back to his feet, dragging Atlas up with him, so fast Soapdish has to jump away to avoid a collision.

But Soapdish having to move gave Atlas the cover he needed, swinging his right back backwards, and square into Dace Night's groin.

BBBBOOOOOOO! A whole half of the arena is booing, jeering and yelling at Atlas now.

Spinning around with a standing switch, Atlas nails a quick German Suplex of his own, holding a bridge, keeping Dace pinned on his shoulder.

......ONE!

......TWO!

......1/4!

......1/2!

......3/4!

Kickout!

Struggling to keep his grip, Atlas rolls with the kickout, and manages to roll right through and sit behind Night, who lays face down on the mat.

Standing up, Atlas locks his arms again, and drops backwards, Slingshotting the Brummie over with a Wheelbarrow Suplex, back onto his shoulder for another cover.

......ONE!

......TWO!

......1/4!

......1/2!

......3/4!

Kickout!

RRRAAAHHH!

Stevens: Low Blow, German Suplex, Wheelbarrow Suplex, and Dace Night it still kicking out. Atlas has to be building the momentum for his finish now though.

Riley: See, you admit it, Atlas is just going to out class Dace and leave him done on the mat.

Crawling his way back into his feet, the Atheist stumbles over to Night, and flings his leg out in a wild kick to the gut.

SMACK!

And another one.

SMACK!

BBBOOOOO!

Looping his arm over Dace's neck in a Front Facelock, Atlas snaps back into a DDT, rolling over backwards, right over Dace and back to his feet with the Facelock still applied.

Taking in a breath as he twists himself slowly round to the side, Atlas sits down with a Neckbreaker.

Stevens: Atlas not as fast hitting that Neckbreaker as he was earlier in the match, all this effort taking it's toll on him.

Leaning back with his arms, Sean reaches under Dace's shoulders and starts pushing him up. Tucking his knees under himself, Atlas slowly lifts up himself, as Dace Night across his back.

Slowly, fighting for every inch he moves, Atlas gets himself onto his feet, with Dace Night in a Crucifix across his back.

Stevens: Angel's Punishment, a Crucifix Powerbomb into a DDT, and Atlas has Dace set up for it right here.

Riley: Class, just sheer class is what it is Mark.

Bracing himself, Atlas throws Dace forwards and over, looking to send him to his end like twice before.

YYYAAAAAHHH!

Dace some how manages to land on his feet, avoid his fate, but Atlas doesn't stop to take in shock, and tackles forwards, sweeping Night's leg out with an STO, but Dace brings his arm over, into a Front Facelock.

Sean Atlas' own tackle drives his head into the mat, as Dace scores somewhat of a DDT.

Stevens: Dace lands on his feet, then dodges the bullet a second time, by countering the STO!

Riley: Sean, just finish him already, you're taking time away from more important matches damn it.

Both men climb unsteadily back to their feet, face to face with each other, less than arms length apart, but they are tired, panting, and ready for a counter to anything they might try.

A pair of right hands sail through the air, both men duck and spin away. A pair of boots lash out, and meet in mid air with a crack. Jumping back, both men once again, stand apart, but locking in combat.

Dace lunches an Elbow Smash fling through the air, Atlas ducks, but the arm draws up short, as it scoops down around Sean's waist, Gut Wrenching him up.

Stevens: Now it's Dace Night's turn to try him finisher. The Dark Star Driver, a Totally Vertically Drop version of the Powerbomb.

Riley: It's also Atlas' turn to escape it.

With Atlas balanced across his shoulder, Dace leans forwards to spike him down, but true to Riley's predictions, Atlas throws himself backwards of Dace's shoulder.

RRRRAAAHHHH!

Swinging round, Dace lashes his boot into Sean's gut, and Underhooking his arms, pulls Atlas up, and drops to the mat, spiking him on his head with a Defenestration.

YYYYYYAAAAAHHH! It's half the arena, but half the fans still make a lot of noise as Atlas drops to the mat, motionless.

Stevens: Atlas can dodge the bullet once, but not twice. That was another one of Dace's finishing moves, the Defenestration! It's over!

Riley: No, no, no!

Rolling one arm over Atlas, Dace yells for Soapdish to make the cover.

......ONE!

......TWO!

.......1/4!

......1/2!

......3/4!

......9/10!

......THREE!

YYYYAAAAAAHHHHH!

DING! DING! DING!

Funyon: Here is your winner, and Number One Contender to the Hardcore Games Title, by pinfall ... DACE NNIIIGGGHHHTTT!

There are patches of fans that are still indifferent across the arena, making up about half of the crowd, but the other half is on it's feet, cheering.

Riley: Meh, he can only get half the fans going.

Stevens: Well, that's a lot more fans than were cheering at the start of this match Riley, so I think these to guys made a great start to the Pay Per View.

Helped back up to his feet by the Referee Soapdish, Dace has his arm rises above his head, throwing the horns to the crowd.

Fuel for Hatred is screaming out of the system, filling the arena once again. Collapsing onto the ropes, sucking in deep breaths, Dace waits, not leaving the ring just yet.

Sean Atlas is still on the mat, barely moving, try to recover from the match.

Pulling himself over to the camera on the ring apron, Dace grabs the yells and yells a message down it.

Dace: Janus, you know I hope you win the HGC Title, so I can come and face you again, to kick your fucking ass for it. I’m coming to the HGC division, and I’m going to show you all just how much pain I can bring, so you better be ready!

Riley: How terribly rude of him. No respect at all these young fools.

Stepping through the ropes, Dace walks slowly back up the ramp, as a few fans are still cheering. Walking up the ramp, he looks back at Atlas in the ring, who is slowly getting back onto his feet.

Stevens: This is just the first match from the incredible SWF Battleground PPV!

Riley: Yep, and hopefully it’ll be getting better. Don’t worry if you’ve been watching at home, these guys are new, so they suck.

Stevens: Still to come on the PPV

Riley: Please let it start soon.

Stevens: We’ve got Janus versus Beezel inside a Steel Card for the HGC Title. Which Dace just became the top contender too.

Riley: Like he has a chance of winning it.

Stevens: Michael Craven versus Mike Van Siclen for the US Title. Then Jaw Dawg versus Danny Williams for the ICTV Championship. Williams being Dace’s stable mate, so things might get interesting.

Riley: I Hope they bar him from ringside in that one. And that Danny Williams gets what’s coming to him.

Stevens: Then Neilsen of the Jungle and Michelle against The Suicide King and a mystery partner of his choice.

Riley: And we all know, King won’t only have the best partner, but he’ll also clean house. Because he’s the boss.

Stevens: Nice sucking up as ever Riley.

Riley: I do try.

Stevens: The Justice and Rule versus Déjà Vu versus Wild and Dangerous, in a triple threat TLC Match for the Tag Team Titles. Than one is really gonna set the place going. Bodies will be everywhere I’m sure.

Riley: It’s gonna be fun.

Stevens: And in the Main Event, the World Champion, Tom Flesher, up against Frost and TNT in a Three Way Dance for the World Title!

Riley: Just more chances for our great World Champ to prove how great he is too.

While Stevens and Riley have been talking, Atlas has dragged himself out of the ring, and into the back, after their grueling debut match up.

Riley: I wonder if those two know we could plug all this because we cut time from their match?

Stevens: Now to our sponsors before the next match.

Cameras fade out.

May 5, 2003

The first thing we hear is the roar of the crowd as the cameras return. Then the sound of Mudvayne's "Not Falling" rips through the arena as SWF Battleground is back on the air! The crowd roars, waving signs such as "CCBB > Taamo!" and "DACE F'N NIGHT!", the second sign heralding the High Priest of Horrorcore's entrance into the SWF a mere match earlier. The camera pans around, directing attention to the decommisioned military hardware that makes up the set, as well as the Apache that looks like it's crashing into the Smarktron. More signs are revealed, such as "Send Beezel to Hell, Janus!" and "Pokemania Still Rules!" - despite the fact Ash no longer exists.

Finally, we pan down to ringside, as the lights dim for a moment, and ominous music - to be precise, Wagner's "Ride of the Valkyries" begins to echo through the air, heralding one thing. The descent of a large and unforgiving steel structure from the ceiling. Finally, with an ominous boom, the steel cage settles around the ring, leaving barely a foot of space between the ring apron and the steel wall. The music fades to be replaced by "Not Falling" once more as we swing around to the announce table to see none other than the SWF duo of 'Grand Slam' Mark Stevens and his ambigiously gay cohort Bobby Riley!

"Listen to these fans! We're back on S...W....F BATTLEGROUND, ladies and gentlemen! After seeing one HELL of a match between the new bumpees, Sean Atlas and Dace Night, we move on to one of our more painful matches of the evening!" Stevens booms.

"We get to see Janus get Beezel right where he wants him, in a steel cage where he can't escape! Janus is going to brutalise the little man and walk away with his Hardcore Gamers Championship!"

"Well, Riley, Janus doesn't have an impressive record against Beezel at all! He lost the title to him, and failed to regain it in a fatal four way match, and even couldn't defeat him when tagging with Micheal Craven!"

Riley snorts, of course defending the seven foot monster. "He's just been off his game, Stevens! You watch, he'll kick some serious ass tonight!"

Funyon rising from his seat makes both announcers stop their bickering, as the announcer, clad in an expertly mad camoflague tuxedo, lifts his microphone and gestures to the cage with one hand, addressing the crowd in his booming voice.

"Ladies and gentlemen.....the following contest....is a STEEL CAGE MATCH, for the S....W.....F.....HARDCORE GAMERS CHAMPIONSHIP! The match can only be won when a superstar exits the cage, either over the top or through the door.....and both, I repeat BOTH feet must touch the floor! Introducing first, we have the challenger....."

Every single light in the arena drops out, as the soft beat that heralds the beginning of Fear Factory's "Resurrection" begins to echo from the speakers. The Smarktron shows the image of a young man with his hair dyed white, calm and focused. The crowd begins to boo in earnest as the barrels of the artillery pieces lining the rampway begin to fountain blue pyros into the air at a 45º angle, creating a strange rain of blue mist in the air. The image on the Smarktron starts cracking, lines weaving through the image as Burton C. Bell's voice issues forth from the speakers.

"Consumed with memoriiiiies....

That preceded to-daaaay...

Given a chance to bereave...

Liiiife that's slipping A-WAAAAAAY!"

As Bell's voice screams the final word, the image on the Smarktron shatters to reveal the well-known appearance of Janus, and a spotlight appears on the dark ramp as the giant emerges from behind the curtain. Clutched in one hand is the familiar black form of a cricket bat wrapped in barbed wire - Janus' pet weapon, the Equalizer. The cameras zoom in on the giant's scowling visage as he stalks down the ramp, through the misty blue pyro that fountains from the artillery pieces. Funyon speaks as the giant reaches the cage and stops to look up at it.

"He hails from Sydney Australia and weighs in at threeee hundred and FIFTY pounds! A member of the Magnificent Seven, ladies and gentlemen, he is the Hell Machine......JAAAAAAAAAAANUS!"

The giant tosses his head back, flicking white hair from his eyes as he steps around the cage and enters, the referee Eddy Long holding the door open and trying to keep as far away from the monster as possible. Janus merely glares at the referee before stepping into the cage and climbing the steps into the ring, propping the Equalizer in one corner and thrusting his arms into the air with a roar. The ring is lit an azure colour as blue fire erupts from the turnbuckles, illuminating the giant in an ominous blue glow for several moments. Janus turns his head left, then right, looking at the booing crowd through the steel bars of the cage as "Resurrection" fades out.

"Look at Janus, Riley. He looks....actually, he ALWAYS looks that angry, I think. Imagine what's going through his mind!" Stevens murmurs.

"He's imagining 1001 ways to dismantle Beezel! That little runt has it coming!" Riley mutters.

"Beezel's kept ahead of Janus before, he'll surely do it again tonight" is Steven's confident reply.

Further commentary is cut off by the immense cheers at the sound of River Cuomo's voice screaming out over the speakers.

"I'LL BRING HOME THE TURKEY IF YOU BRING HOME THE BACON!"

The crowd continues to scream and cheer for the champion as a huge sheet of red pyro explodes on the stage, filling the entranceway and part of the ramp with smoke. Stepping through the smoke comes a familiar red-and-flame-suited figure, Hardcore Gamers Title strapped around his waist, and a microphone lifted to his mask, a chair held by the leg in his other hand.

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

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

Beezel coaxes the crowd into singing along with him as Funyon lifts his microphone with a grin on his face.

"And ladies and gentlemen...the S.....W.....F....HARDCORE GAMERS CHAMPION...weighing two hundred and five pounds and hailing from Phoinex Arizona! He is 'El Scorcho'......BEEEEEEEEEZEL!"

Still singing, Beezel steps around the cage, skirting around the open door and heading for the timekeeper's table, undoing his belt and putting it down before dropping the microphone and clutching the chair with both hands as he approaches the door to the cage! Within the steel structure, Janus has been standing like a statue, turning his head and glaring at Beezel with a dangerous gleam as the smaller man enters the steel structure. Beezel looks over his shoulder as referee Eddy Long shuts the door and latches it shut. Within the ring, Janus just continues to glare.

"Beezel is definitely the fan favourite here tonight. However, being locked in a fifteen foot high steel cage with a seven foot monster is not going to be good for his health!"

Riley responds to the comment with a laugh, a mediocre-yet-evil one. "When Beezel tries to escape, Janus is going to destroy him. He's got nowhere to run, no one can save him..."

Finally, holding the chair in his hands and staring at the monster Janus, Beezel slides under the bottom rope, and the bell rings to begin the match!

*DING DING DING*

"This cage match is a bit unlike normal matches. Most cages are snugly fit against the ring, but this one is a little different. There's about a foot or two of space between the ring and the cage wall."

"That's because it's hardcore rules, Marky-mark! Janus needs to get his weapons of doom from somewhere!"

"They brought weapons with them, Riley..."

And Janus immediately begins by charging at the chair-wielding Beezel, lifting a leg into the air! Showing brains rather than instinct however, Beezel ducks the boot, and Janus skids to a stop only to receive a sharp kick to the back of his knee, dropping him down into a kneeling position. Standing behind Janus, Beezel lifts the chair and swings it hard, the steel making a loud *CRACK* as it snaps Janus' head forward! The crowd ooooos at the pain of that move, and with the giant temporarily dazed, Beezel drops the chair nearby and hooks Janus in an inverted facelock...

...and drops down with a reverse DDT! Janus' head bounces at the impact, but the giant's eyes are still wide open. Seemingly ignoring the pain, the giant sits back up and turns his head to look at Beezel before beginning to rise once more. A flicker of fear shows in the much smaller man's eyes, and as the hulking monster that is Janus rises up, the Hardcore Gamers Champion opens up with a flurry of stiff kicks!

"Beezel taking advantage early on with his speed and that chair, and now he's showing Janus how good a kicker he is!" Stevens calls.

"Pfft, but Janus is hardly phased! Look at the expression on his face!" is Riley's response.

Indeed, for despite the fact he's started at a disadvantage, Janus is staggering back under the barrage of kicks that strike at his thighs and abdomen, forcing him back. Beezel ceases the assault and grabs the giant by the arm, pulling him for an Irish whip that Janus reverses and follows in! Beezel crashes into the turnbuckle chest first... and then a huge boot crashes into his spine, crushing his chest right into the unforgiving corner! The man known as El Scorcho doesn't even scream as the blow drives all the wind from his lungs, and he sags against the turnbuckle, wheezing.

Showing no inclination to give his opponent rest or show any mercy, Janus lifts the wheezing Beezel onto the top turnbuckle, then grabs the back of his head and yanks him back, hanging the smaller man upside down in a tree of woe! The giant plants a big kick into his opponent's ribcage, then turns around and walks all the way to the other side of the ring before turning around, eyeing his hanging opponent...

...before charging across the ring and lowering his shoulder, preparing to crush Beezel into the turnbuckle...

...but at the last minute, a gasping El Scorcho pulls himself upright, sitting on the top turnbuckle as Janus cries out in angered pain when his shoulder collides with nothing but ring post!

"Janus going for high impact moves very early in the game! Usually it's better to wear people down!" says Stevens, of course.

"Feh! Beezel's lucky he got out of the way!" Riley retorts.

As Janus slowly straightens up, clutching his sore shoulder, Beezel turns himself around on the top turnbuckle and leaps at Janus, locking his legs around the giant's neck! Unable to lift both arms due to the numb pain of posting himself, Janus fails at an attempted powerbomb counter. The giant finds himself flipped off his feet and slammed into the canvas with a hurricanrana! He grimaces and slowly begins to sit up as Beezel crawls away and slips under the bottom rope...

...and he drops to the floor before getting a hold of the cage and beginning to climb!

"Beezel's making a dash for freedom!" bellows Stevens.

Rising to his feet in the ring, Janus locks onto the climbing form of his opponent and scowls. Stepping over the top rope, Janus stands on the apron and lifts his huge arms, grabbing Beezel by the legs. The red-suited wonder tries to kick and struggle free, but the monster's grip is ironclad. The giant yanks with all his might, and Beezel totally loses his grip, falling right into the giant's arms...and Janus hoists him up in a gorilla press, before throwing him full force into the cage! The unforgiving steel shows no compassion as Beezel crashes into it and falls to the floor, gasping and curling up in pain at the hard impact. Janus doesn't follow his prey, however, instead turning around and climbing back into the ring.

"Janus threw Beezel like a sack of meal into the turnbuckle! Why isn't he capitalising?" Stevens queries.

"Because he's going to up the runt's pain in a minute." Riley grins.

The ambiguously gay co-host's comment is right, as Janus steps over to the corner he'd left his Equalizer in, picking up the black, barbed-wire cricket bat and smiling coldly before turning around and beginning to stalk back across the ring. His stalk turns into a short dash however when he sees Beezel beginning to climb the cage again! That effort is cut short as the giant stops at the ropes, rears back, and swings with his weapon....

...and the barbed-wire bat finds its mark in Beezel's left leg! El Scorcho shrieks in pain, and the crowd winces as the impact sandwiches his leg against the cage, and the razor sharp wire slashes into his suit and skin. Redness that ISN'T the same shade as his suit begins to leak from the cuts, as Beezel lets go of the cage and drops to the floor just in time to avoid a swing that would have gotten his other leg. Instead, the Equalizer hits the cage, and Janus grimaces as the shockwaves travel up his arms. Beezel on the other hand is on his hands and knees, grimacing at the pain in his leg.

"Beezel tried to get out again when Janus wasn't looking! But the giant brutally cut THAT short!" Stevens winces.

"He should at least TRY to take Janus out! He's just a coward now he's got nowhere to run!" Riley mocks.

Stepping over the top rope, Janus lifts the Equalizer high again and does a jump, swinging the bat in an overhead motion at the welcome target that is Beezel's spine! Sensing the movement, El Scorcho rolls aside, and the Equalizer digs DEEP into the matting, getting stuck in the stuffing! Janus tugs once, twice, and then releases his weapon with a growl, eyeing his opponent. Beezel stares back with only the tiniest whit of fear, still trying to massage feeling into his bloodied leg.

"We've barely gotten into this match and these men are showing no fear!" calls Stevens.

"PFft! Beezel's trying to run away from Janus! THAT'S fear!" corrects Riley.

Stepping forward, Janus looms over the sitting Beezel, leaning over and wrapping a meaty, gloved fist around his opponent's arm. However, El Scorcho is not easy prey, and he kicks up his good leg to smack Janus in the chin! The giant's head snaps back, and the red-suited one grabs onto the cage wall with both hands and uses it to help himself up. Janus tilts his head forward again...

...and Beezel unleashes a barrage of kicks on him! Holding the cage and balancing on his battered leg, Beezel slams stiff kick after stiff kick into Janus' abdomen and chest. Surprised at this sudden assault, Janus can do little but absorb the blows, actually wavering on his feet a little as the kicks drive air out of him. Seeing Beezel preparing another kick, the giant lifts his arms to parry...

...but Beezel is as wily as a fox, and letting go of the cage, his roundhouse kick sweeps low, cracking into Janus' knee! The giant grimaces in pain and drops once more into a kneeling position, holding his leg. Almost falling over thanks to the pain currently shooting through his leg, Beezel plants his good leg on Janus' knee without even running, and springs up, swinging his bad leg and cracking Janus in the side of the head!

"And Beezel temporarily dousing the Flames there, cracking Janus in the skull! This should give him some recovery time!"

"Yeah, right! Janus will recover sooner than anything else!"

The giant shakes his head slowly, trying to clear it of the ringing pain of impact. Beezel slumps against the apron, trying to ignore the pain in the leg the giant hit with the Equalizer earlier. Sliding into the ring, the red-suited one seeks out and picks up the metal chair he'd brought with him. El Scorcho turns on his heel, looking to the outside where Janus clutches the cage with one hand, shaking his head fiercely and beginning to rise. With an electronic cry, Beezel charges the ropes...

...leaps up, fiery pain burning through his bleeding leg...

...and springboards off the ropes, throwing the chair at Janus! The giant sees the incoming item and catches it on instinct, and moments later Beezel's springboard dropkick crashes into the chair! Janus' head snaps back again...right into the steel cage! The crowd cheers at the way Beezel sandwiched the giant's skull, and Janus slumps into a sitting position, blood welling from his forehead, eyes glazed. The one known as El Scorcho is in better shape, sprawled on the ground. He begins to push himself up, as the fans begin one of their regular chants.

"LET'S GO, BEEZEL!" *clap clap clap-clap-clap*

"Beezel's on fire! He's got the advantage after kicking the absolute hell out of Janus!"

"How can you kick the hell out of the Hell Machine? Wouldn't that just make him 'The Machine' or something?" Riley questions.

"It wasn't literal, Riley." Stevens sighs.

Beezel leans on the apron for a moment, and then begins limping towards the door to the cage. The crowd continues to chant as Beezel gets closer. Eventually, he leans on the cage wall, motioning for Sexton Hardcastle to unlock the door! The referee does so, undoing the latch and beginning to swing the door open, when a thunderous roar of boos from the crowd makes Beezel turn around!

*CRASH*

The cage shakes from the impact as Janus' big boot slams into the wall of the cage where Beezel's head had been. Rising from his crouch, Beezel grabs the raised leg in preparation for a dragon screw leg whip, but Janus reaches out and closes his hand over the front of Beezel's masked face! Then, with a firm shove, he slams the red-suited wonder back into the cage! Letting go of the giant's leg, El Scorcho lifts his arms to try and claw the giant's arm off his head. He gets no success, as Janus just pulls him forward, and slams him bodily back into the cage again! This soon becomes a steady rhythm as Janus seems to just lose control, slamming Beezel back into the cage repeatedly, before just pulling him away and half-throw, half-roll him back into the ring!

Curled up on the canvas, Beezel clutches the back of his head and makes electronic whimpering sounds of pain. The giant's sheer aggressiveness had caught him completely by surprise, and he struggles to recover as the giant rolls into the ring, blood running from his forehead and staining his face. The cameras also catch a red patch forming in the long white hair in the back of Janus' skull - it seems Beezel's chair-assisted attack had busted open more of Janus than previously thought.

"My goodness! Janus coming back with a vicious assault, slamming Beezel into the cage like a rag doll before rolling him back into the ring! And look at him! He's bleeding from the head in TWO places!"

"Janus could bleed as much as anyone and still not give up a fight, Grand Spam! Now he's bleeding, he's just going to get really, really pissed off!" giggles Riley.

Riley's words seem to be correct at the dark expression on Janus' face, as he eyes the curled up Beezel. Standing ominously over the smaller man, the giant seems to consider...before backing away several steps...

...and charging forward to deliver a soccer-style boot right into Beezel's ribcage! An electronic cry of pain erupts from the small man's masked mouth at the stiff impact, and Janus grabs him by the arm, dragging him to his feet! Swatting at the giant's arm, Beezel grabs the meaty limb and uses it as a means to support him on his bad leg, hopping off the ground and driving a painful kick into Janus' abdomen. The giant lets Beezel go, rubbing his stomach, partly doubled over, and the man known as El Scorcho leaps forward to grab the giant's head, and begins to twist around for a spinning neckbreaker!

Unfortunately for him, as he spins and turns away from Janus, the giant's arms come up and slam into his back, shoving him away! Beezel stumbles forward, grimacing, and before he can turn around to face his opponent, a huge pair of arms trap his own limbs against his sides and lock tight around his chest with crushing force! The red-suited superstar screams at the pressure being put on his ribcage, as Janus stands behind him with a grim, animalistic expression on his face. The giant doesn't move an inch as he squeezes with the rib-breaking bearhug, putting more and more pressure on El Scorcho's poor chest.

"Janus goes old school! He locks those huge arms around Beezel's chest........god, listen to those screams! Let him go, man! He can't tap out, and you could break his ribs!"

"Hehehehee! I bet that's what he's planning to do, Stevens! He can snap Beezel like THAT, it's what the little guy gets for interfering in his business!"

Still with his arms wrapped crushingly tight around Beezel's ribcage, Janus screams something at the red-suited one, but whatever it was is turned into a slightly higher-pitched cry as El Scorcho drives a kick back in between the giant's legs in a desperate attempt to escape the chest-crushing hold! Janus' arms loosen, and Beezel staggers free, coughing and leaning on the ropes. Behind him, the giant wavers on his feet and hunches up, both hands clutching his poor ravaged genitalia. Both superstars gasp and wheeze, and it's Beezel that recovers first...

...bouncing off the ropes and throwing himself into the air! Janus lifts his head, just in time for a flying elbow to smash into his face! Off balance, the giant collapses backwards to the mat with a thud as Beezel hops to keep his balance on his bad leg! Finally balancing himself, Beezel slips out of the ring, and rather than risk running to the door like before, he grabs the wall and slowly, painfully, begins to climb the cage! The crowd cheers noisily at this, and in the ring, Janus turns bleary eyes to the rattling cage wall to see his opponent escaping.

The bleariness fades in mere seconds. The pain in his groin doesn't, but Janus sits up again, grimacing in pain! Blood stains the ring canvas where his skull had laid, and the camera makes sure to catch this as the giant rises to his feet slowly, like some unstoppable behemoth. Slowly, he steps to one of the turnbuckles and begins to ascend, perching on the top rope precariously. Beezel, still on the cage, turns to catch sight of his opponent perching on the turnbuckle, and Janus remains crouched, gauging Beezel's position!

"Janus looks like he's going to try and jump onto Beezel from the turnbuckle! Can a big man even fly that far!?"

"He could if he wanted to! But it looks like the little twerp is going to come to him instead!"

"No, Beezel! DON'T!"

Stevens' words fall on deaf ears, not that Beezel could hear him anyway. Seeing his opponent prepare to leap, Beezel stops holding onto the cage, preparing to take the fight to his opponent! He balances waveringly and bunches his legs, grimacing at the pain in his bad limb. As Janus tenses his own muscles in preparation, Beezel takes the initiative, flipping off the cage with a huge moonsault! He soars through the air, heading towards the turnbuckle and the Hell Machine...

...but Janus actually sees the move coming and leaps into the air at the same time, both of them soaring towards each other...

...upside down in his moonsault, Beezel catches a flash of white hair...

...BEFORE A SHOULDER SLAMS STIFFLY INTO HIS RIBCAGE! The law of gravity then takes hold as both superstars proceed to plunge down into the matting; Beezel crying out in pain as Janus literally lands on top of him! The crowd roars in insane approval for the move, as Stevens and Riley stand up at their table, gawking in surprise at the sheer impressiveness and ferocity of the attack.

"AIR GORE! AIR GORE! AIR GOOOOOOORE!! GOD DAMN! BEEZEL WENT FOR A MOONSAULT, JANUS WENT FOR A TACKLE, AND GORED BEEZEL IN MIDAIR! THEY'RE DEAD!"

"Nonsense, Stevens! Janus will get up any moment now, you watch! You just watch!" is Riley's awe-stricken reply.

All Janus does is roll off Beezel's battered body, sprawling on the matting. The sheer impact of hitting Beezel and then the mat has taken a toll on the giant's vitality. The red-suited Hardcore Champion is worse off, his ribs and body having being hammered by a three hundred and fifty pound mass Repeatedly. On the outside, Sexton Hardcastle looks on at the carnage and shakes his head, as the crowd begins up a chant of "GET UP, BEEZEL!". However, the Janus-fans in the crowd stir up a counter-chant of "COME ON, JANUS!".

"GET UP BEEZEL!"

"COME ON, JANUS!"

"GET UP BEEZEL!"

"COME ON, JANUS!"

The roaring of the crowd seems to stir some life into both superstars. Janus attempts to sit up, but barely rises before flopping to the ground. Beezel rolls over onto his stomach, wheezing in pain, and digging his fingers into the mat, he begins to drag himself away from Janus towards the relative safety of the door. Behind the crawling Beezel, Janus wipes his hand over his face, leaving a bloody handprint when he plants a hand on the ground and uses it as support to help him sit up. Turning his head, he notices his opponent crawling away...and he attempts to stand up!

However, the crash-landing has taken a great chunk of the giant's indomitable power away, and he has to grab the apron with a bloody hand to help himself up. Beezel turns his head to check on his opponent, and seeing the monster rising woozily to his feet, he realises he's going to be in trouble very quickly unless he gets away. El Scorcho grabs the side of the cage, half-pulling himself up and beginning a stumbling run for the closed door, arms held across his chest to protect his pulverised ribcage.

"And Beezel is up! He's trying to escape, and escape quickly!" calls Stevens.

"But Janus is up as well! Both of them have been bloodied and battered, but Janus is nearly immune to damage!"

"That's taking it a bit far, Riley..."

"Hey, he's a GOD!" is the retort. Stevens just sighs again.

Turning a corner of the cage, Beezel's stumbling run is brought to a halt as his leg catches on something, and he stumbles and falls to the mat, turning his head to see the Equalizer, having been buried in the mat, has been ripped free. Now it's embedded in the leg of his suit, with the barbed wire once again cutting into his flesh. As Janus lumbers around the corner of the ring and advances, still leaning on the apron, Beezel rips the Equalizer from his leg! An electronic cry of pain follows as he forces himself to stand, limping on the damaged leg. One arm pressing against his damaged ribcage, the red-suited wonder known as El Scorcho lifts the barbed-wire cricket bat with his free hand, and swings!

Janus hurriedly backsteps to avoid the blow and almost falls back over the steel steps, as Beezel stares at him with almost panicked intent. Regaining his own balance, Janus eyes Beezel and the Equalizer as the red-suited one hobbles backwards. As he reaches another corner of the ring, the one closest to the door, Janus abruptly breaks into a charge! With a roar, he extends his arm for a lariat, and what can be seen of Beezel's facial expression is reminiscent of a deer in headlights.

"He doesn't CARE about the weapon in Beezel's hands! He just wants to maim him!" Stevens yells.

"And I'd LOVE to see it happen! Whee-hee!" Riley giggles.

He swings the Equalizer low, but what follows leaves the crowds staring. The barbed wire slams into Janus' abdomen, lacerating flesh. The giant lets out an indistinct sound of pain that could be 'argh', momentum carrying him forward. His arm catches Beezel in the chest, his other arm reaching to grab the ring post...

...and using it as a pivot, he drags Beezel as they spin around the post, slamming the red-suited one spine first into the ring apron! El Scorcho screams in pain again, dropping the weapon in his hand. Janus' arm still supporting him by the chest in an Uranage-esque position and Beezel can do nothing as he tries to ignore the pain in his chest and the lack of air in his lungs. Janus doesn't look much better... his teeth gritted in pain. Bloody flesh can be seen below his ribs where the Equalizer tore into Janus' skin and then both superstars slump over. Janus kneels, resting his head against the apron, while Beezel sits next to him, clutching his upper body and wheezing in pain.

"Both these men are giving their all, and with the hardcore element in play, it's taken a lot out of them!"

"Janus is distinctly tougher than Beezel ever will be, Stevens!"

"But look! Beezel has the mental advantage!"

The reason Stevens says this is because Beezel is on the move again! Flopping onto his stomach, seeing the door so close, he begins to crawl along the mat again. Janus is busy recovering; a hand over his bloodied mid-section, the other holding the back of his head. Blood stains the giant's hands, and the crowd then makes the mistake of beginning a chant for the red-suited El Scorcho, who crawls defiantly towards the door.

"BEEEE-ZEEEEEL!"

The sound of the fans chanting his opponent's name makes Janus lift his head, and wavering, the giant once more finds his feet. He turns his head to find Beezel waving desperately at Sexton Hardcastle, who unlocks and opens the cage door. Still crawling, El Scorcho puts his hands over the threshold and begins to pull himself out of the cage...at least, until a huge boot crashes down into his spine, eliciting a cry of pain and a round of booing from the crowd. Grabbing Beezel by the leg, Janus drags him back into the cage, and up to his feet!

"YOU'RE DEAD, LITTLE MAN!"

Rearing back, Janus clenches the fist of his right hand and powers it straight at Beezel's face, the thunderous punch known as the Knuckle Bomb dead on target...with thin air as Beezel ducks close to the ground to avoid the blow! Scowling, Janus reaches down to pick him up again and as he does so, Beezel uses all the power left in his good leg to kick the monstrous Hell Machine right where it hurts! Janus almost SQUEALS at the pain shooting through his painfully kicked genitalia, staggering back and grabbing onto the cage for support...

..and unaware that he's laying his body against the closed door and holding it shut! The giant clings to the cage with both arms, bracing himself against it; eyes squeezed shut as he tries to will the pain out of his pounded genitalia. He opens his eyes again slowly, hazily watching Beezel crawl into the ring and retrieve something before sliding back out. Shaking his head firmly, he opens his eyes with the haze cleared, staring straight at the red-suited man now standing before him.

A moment of silence.

And then a thunderous *CRACK* as Beezel lifts the chair he'd retrieved and smashes it into Janus' head, once again sandwiching the giant's skull between two steel objects! There's an indistinct cry of pain from the giant, and when Beezel drops the chair, Janus is slumped against the door, still clinging to the cage wall out of some unconscious instinct. His eyes are rolled back in his head, and any form of life appears to have fled from his mind. Blood runs down his face in small rivulets, and his abdomen is only slightly better off.

"Holy JESUS, Riley! The power and force behind that chairshot.....I think it was heard around the world!" Stevens comments.

"I'll agree with that, Stevens! It looked NASTY! Hey, where's the coward going!?"

Riley's question about Beezel isn't very hard to answer. With Janus seemingly stunned and out of the game, Beezel has turned his attention to the cage! With the giant blocking the door, the only other option is going up and over, and that's just what El Scorcho does, grabbing the cage and beginning to climb. The pain in his lacerated leg, and the ache in his ribs, slows his ascent to something approaching a crawl, but he continues to slowly ascend the cage. The crowd cheers this motion...

...at least until he gets around halfway up and nearly slips thanks to his battered leg! There's a dramatic gasp from the crowd at this, as Beezel clings onto the cage for dear life, trying to get his bad leg working again and back into climbing position. The gasp from the crowd soon turns to another chant that of "WATCH OUT, BEEZEL!" as the camera pans back down to check on Janus! The giant's eyes are fully open, and they roll back into his head, pupils contracted to small points.

Turning his head, he looks up at where El Scorcho ascends, and a smile breaks out across his face. It's not a nice smile. It's not a pleasant smile. It's more of a demonic grin, the look of someone who will go through anyone, do ANYthing, to destroy his opponent. The cage wall shakes as Janus grabs it, and Beezel nearly slips again, looking down and staring in surprise at the giant that's slowly ascending. The eyes of the small, red-suited man catch sight of the totally contracted pupils of Janus and the demonic grin on his face.

"Janus gets a mysterious second wind! He looks ready to KILL!"

"Oh, and kill he will, Grand Sham! Once he gets his mitts on that little thieving Beezel, he's going to absolutely destroy him!" Riley cackles.

However, Beezel has a good head start on Janus. Almost three-quarters of the way up the cage, it looks like the wonder known as El Scorcho is going to reach and climb over the top of the cage before the monster can reach him....that is, if fate had not intervened in the form of making Beezel's lacerated leg slip out of its foothold again! With an electronically modulated swear word, the smaller man kicks his leg to try and lift it back into place...

...but a monstrous hand closes around it! The crowd gasps as Janus uses his reach to get a hold of Beezel, still ascending the cage! The smaller man tries to shake Janus loose, but the giant just keeps climbing up, right over the smaller man, and he stops.

And locks on a full nelson.

"Oh god...he wouldn't!"

"I've seen the tapes, Stevens! He did it to the outside of the cage back in the Junior League!"

Indeed, Janus now pins Beezel against the cage, and holds the full nelson! The little man struggles in pain, trying to get free of the giant's grip - but still smiling demonically, still with pupils totally contracted, Janus speaks in a low murmur, his blood dripping onto the shoulder of Beezel's costume.

".....It's over for you..."

And with all the grace and finesse he's known for, Janus wrenches Beezel off the cage and throws himself backwards. But as he falls, he throws his body back and releases....

...THROWING BEEZEL RIGHT OFF THE CAGE WITH A RELEASE FULL NELSON SUPLEX!

The crowd is on their feet roaring as Janus just falls straight back down to the mat outside the ring, he physically BOUNCES once and just seems to flop. Beezel on the other hand soars clean over the ring ropes, body flipping in the air thanks to the force of the throw, and landing right on his upper back with such ring-shaking force he doesn't even cry out before also just flopping to the mat like a dead fish.

"...uh...Riley?"

"....Mark?"

"...That looked pretty nasty, didn't it?"

"...Yeah...."

Both of the announcers join the crowd in a sudden silence as neither superstar moves after that incredible full-nelson suplex off the cage. The atmosphere in the arena changes to one of tense, worried wonder as everyone stares at the confines of the cage. A cage where the red-suited wonder - the Hardcore Gamers Champion Beezel - and his opponent - the monstrous Hell Machine Janus - just killed each other dead.

Then....a twitch from Janus.

The crowd gasps, everyone as a whole leaning out of their seats to make sure they didn't just hallucinate.

Nope. Another twitch.

"Riley...I think Janus is......moving again....." Stevens is awed.

"YAAAAY! GOOO JANUS!" Riley sounds overly exuberant, the noise practically echoing throughout the silent arena. Riley gets the uncomfortable sensation of everyone looking at him for several moments...

...before attention is drawn back to the cage as Janus abruptly SITS UP!

"JESUS CHRIST!"

"HOLY SHIT!"

"JESUS CHRIST!"

"HOLY SHIT!"

The strangely mixed chant rips through the arena like wildfire, becoming a deafening sound. Under it all, Janus doesn't move, just sitting still as if in shock. Slowly, the giant turns his head left and right. Blood clearly stains the back of his white hair, and his face is little better. The pain running through his abdomen is...tolerable...as he reaches behind him and grabs the apron, using it as a support to lift himself up. The crowd noise is intense as the Hell Machine pushes himself up to his feet and turns his head, fully contracted pupils focusing on the crumpled form of Beezel in the ring.

"What the.....he wouldn't!" Stevens cries..

"I dunno....he looks like he would!" Riley responds.

Janus slowly slides into the ring, pushing himself up and staggering on his feet as he approaches Beezel. The giant looks almost ready to fall over despite his consciousness, as he prods at the limp body with a toe, then drags El Scorcho up and locks him in a standing headscissors! The crowd's chants at Janus actually getting back up turn to incredible boos.

"No! DON'T! Janus, you've beaten him enough! Just leave the cage!"

"There's a fine line between wrestling and beating up someone, and you just crossed it!" Riley adds.

Stevens stares at his announcing partner. Riley shrugs. "My smart comment of the PPV?"

"Fair enough...DEAR GOD!!"

Stevens' cry is well founded, as Janus flips Beezel up onto his shoulders and lifts him high into the air! The giant's entire body trembles as if the stress is too much, his contracted pupils staring up at the dull look on El Scorcho's face...and with bone-shattering, match-ending force...

....Janus just plain KILLS Beezel with the Dark Bomb! The boos are tremendous as the giant drops to his knees, staring at the entirely unmoving body. He whispers something to himself, expression one of almost dazed madness as he drops to the mat and slowly rolls out of the ring. Blood running from the cuts on his face and abdomen, the giant stumbles along the matting.

"FUCK YOU, JANUS!"

The crowd's raging chant goes unheard to the giant's ears, as he stumbles towards the door, that Sexton Hardcastle opens...and the giant plants a hand on the doorframe before pulling himself out of the cage and dropping back to his knees!

*DING DING DING!*

Funyon, as awed as the rest of the crowd was, rises to his feet and lifts his microphone.

"Ladies......and gentlemen! The WINNER of this bout...and NEEEEEEW SMARKS WRESTLING FEDERATION HARDCORE GAMERS CHAMPION....he is the Hell Machine.......JAAAAAANUS!"

The sound of "Resurrection" booming over the speakers makes Janus blink once, his eyes returning to normal. Grimacing in pain, the giant grabs the outside of the cage and pulls himself up, cradling his midsection with one arm as Hardcastle heads to the timekeeper's desk, and returns with the Hardcore Gamers belt! The giant stares at the title he practically killed his opponent to achieve...

...and he smiles. "Resurrection" booms in the background.

"Allllll that I knoooooow...

There was no God for me...

Force that shaaaatters all...

Absence of HUMANITY!!!

Reeeeevive...all my fears!

Reeeeevive...wasted tears!

Reeeeevive...void within!

Reeeeevive...once aaaaaagaaaaaain!"

And Janus just thrusts the Hardcore Gamers' belt into the air with a thunderous roar of victory that's almost louder than the crowd, the adrenaline surging through his body stopping him from collapsing on the spot. The camera pans over to 'Grand Slam' Mark Stevens and 'Ambigiously Gay' Bobby Riley.

"Well...that match was...impressive...wasn't it Riley?"

"Yeah...it was...and JANUS WON! Yay!" Riley responds.

"Yeah...anyway, after the break folks, we'll have Micheal Craven taking on Mike Van Siclen, with the US Title on the line! We'll see you in a moment, folks!"

The last sight of the camera before fading to commercial is the strangely intense look on Janus' face as he recovers by leaning on the age, and in the background, EMTs checking on the fallen Beezel...

May 5, 2003

We come back to Battleground to see that the ring has yet to be cleared since the last match. The cage has been lifted, Beezel has been helped out of the ring, but one very important fact remains, and that is that Janus is still in the ring - or more appropriately, near the ring.

"We're warming up for our next match folks, but Janus has yet to leave the ringside area." comments Stevens.

"Guess he's just catching his breath, Stevens." responds Riley.

The seven foot two monster is leaning on the apron, presumably still catching his breath. Referee Sexton Hardcastle comes over to tell the giant that he has to go backstage. The giant lifts his head to look at Hardcastle, pupils contracted to mere pinpoints. One breath. Two breaths.

And Janus grabs Hardcastle by the throat, lifts him up into the air, smashing him into the ground with a thunderous chokeslam! The crowd roars in surprise at this, and both the announcers stand up.

"What the hell is going on!?" Stevens calls.

"Janus looks MAD!! But why!?" is Riley's only reply.

--

In the skybox, the Suicide King sits, tensely drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair, a crumpled letter gripped tightly in one hand as he watches the monitors.

“Ungrateful son of a bitch,” breathes the commissioner. “I have a pay-per-view to supervise, I have a match to win, and he picks tonight of all nights to pester me with his petty complaints. After everything I’ve done for them, after all the times I’ve gone out of my way…”

“Dissention in the ranks, King?”

King whips his head around to the corner of the room where Nathaniel Kibagami sits, brushing back a few stray strands of his newly-red hair and smirking a little at his commissioner’s state of affairs. The Phoenix native wears a pair of baggy khakis, a Bad Religion t-shirt, and a pair of ladder-laced Doc Martens – one of several little conceits that grate only too well on the King.

“I don’t need any input from you, you crippled little shit!” yells the Suicide King. “I swear to Christ, if I hear one more wisecrack out of you tonight, I don’t care what your medicial status is, I will –“

“You do what? Fire me?” Kibagami chuckles and leans back in his chair, cane held deftly in one hand. “Please, Mr. Commissioner. Try and lighten up a little bit.”

“Lighten up? This is the third-largest pay-per-view of the year, Nathan. I will lighten up when I see the buyrate. The buyrate you are not contributing to in the slightest. The buyrate that might be increased slightly if I take you out to the ring and beat the piss out of you to warm up for my REAL match.”

Nathaniel snorts indignantly. “Don’t tempt me, King. The cane’s just decoration.”

“Really.” The commissioner arches an eyebrow. “I thought your neck was beyond repair, needed multiple surgeries, so on and so forth…?”

“Ever heard of spinal fusion surgery, King?”

”No, I can’t say that I have.”

”Well, as I understand it, it relieves much of the pressure on the damaged vertebrae without taking any bone from the surrounding vertebrae, which reduces the recovery time to about six weeks.”

King’s jaw gapes a little. “So…you can wrestle?”

Nathaniel shrugs. “I don’t know. The chronic pain is gone, sure, but they can’t reconstruct my neck or what have you. The doctors can’t tell me whether or not I would hold up in the ring or not.”

“But you could wrestle, if you had to.”

”I could, yes.” Kibagami smiles. “But I choose not to.”

--

“I think Funyon is venturing into the ring, Riley.”

”Good, I’ve always wanted to see that breakdancing bastard get his.”

”Riley.”

”…I mean, Jesus, Mark! Janus is still in the ring!”

Funyon tentatively climbs through the ropes, doing his best to ignore the hulking behemoth next to the turnbuckles. He raises the slightly shaking microphone to his lips…

“Ladies and gentlemen, this next contest will be a –“

Funyon’s introduction is cut off as a massive right hand comes crashing down on the back of his head, driving him to the canvas! Janus lifts the dazed Funyon into a standing headscissors, ignoring the boos from the crowd.

“For Christ’s sake, Janus!” Stevens yells. “Funyon’s not a wrestler!”

”He used to be, you know.”

The enormous Australian lifts Funyon high into the air…hesitates for a moment…

CRASH!

And sends him crashing to the mat with a tremendous Dark Bomb!

A concerned Mark Stevens hits a switch at the announcer’s table. “Somebody get security out here…I think we’re going to have a problem.”

--

The Suicide King sits on the edge of his seat, taking a quick swig from his bottle of water before continuing. “So, Nathan. Look. I know you’re taking time off to help Thoth out –“

”Yuuichiro.”

”Right, Yuui…Youay…right, you’re doing that, you’re rebuilding that town over in Japan, I know—“

“Aechiba.”

”Right, right, anyway, still, I think you should consider staying on for at least another year, I mean, really, Angel’s a fantastic draw for the 18-25 demographic and the tattoo thing goes over well and I wish you’d reconsider and give me just a couple days to go over the contract and see if there’s anything I could do to make you change your –“

In the middle of King’s sales pitch, a young man in SWF attire bursts through the door. “Mr. Applewhite!” he breathes. “Mr. Applewhite, sir!”

”What the hell do you want?!?” barks the commissioner, a little irked at being interrupted.

“Monitor three, sir…we’ve got a small problem at ringside.”

King whirls around in his chair to face one of the skybox’s monitors…and his expression changes from one of aggravation to one of outright anger.

“Son of a BITCH!” he screams as he slams his fist down on the arm of the chair, sending his bottle of water flying to the floor. The commissioner snatches up the phone and dials two numbers.

“Security! Get the hell down to the ring, NOW! Janus is having some kind of temper tantrum and he’s delaying my goddamned show! Do whatever you have to do, but GET HIM OUT OF THAT RING!”

King slams the phone down and swiftly turns back around…and comes face to face with Nathaniel Kibagami. Kibagami is on his feet, staring wide-eyed past King, to the figure on the third monitor, before his focus snaps back to the commissioner.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his face carefully blank. “I didn’t hear you. What did you say his name was?”

--

“Finally, somebody’s come to deal with this,” breathes Stevens. Three security staffers, bright yellow jackets flapping around them, emerge from backstage and quickly make their way to the ring, surrounding the angered behemoth as they enter.

The first one doesn’t have a chance to duck Janus’ boot as it slams into his face, knocking him unconscious. The second tries to backpedal, but gets caught with a titanic right hook. He staggers back into the ring ropes, blood gushing from his broken nose, and falls clumsily through them out of the ring. The third has enough time to throw one punch at the giant’s midsection…which has no effect other than causing Janus to take notice of him, lift him up by his shoulders, and headbutt the unfortunate staff member into unconsciousness.

Janus lets loose a primal roar as he lets the final security drop to the mat, some of the man’s blood remaining splattered on Janus’ forehead. More security comes out from behind the curtain…but they look less than certain of their success.

--

King is on the phone again, but his tone is much more reserved. “Yes, officer. Thank you. Again, I apologize for this. We’re doing everything in our power, but…yes, of course. Thank you again, officer.”

King hangs up the receiver and turns his attention to the monitor.

There is a brief moment of silence before he begins to scream.

“Goddamn it,” he breathes through clenched teeth. “Goddamn it, goddamn it, goddamn it, GODDAMN IT!” he screams. “This is one of the most important events of the year! One of my workers is losing his mind in the ring! Five of my staff have just been seriously injured! I just called the local police on one of my own employees because my apeshit security staff cannot do their simple little job! I want to know who the FUCK is responsible for all of this! Who do I need to fire to make myself feel a little better?” The commissioner whirls around to face a room full of extremely frightened cronies. “Who in the hell is going to step forward and explain to me why…”

The commissioner trails off in mid-sentence.

“Where in the hell did Nathan go?”

--

Out at ringside, we return in time to see Janus one of the unconscious security staff out into the aisles, his fall thankfully broken by two of his co-workers. The Denver crowd is growing impatient with this little stunt of Janus’, and is certainly not shy about letting him know it.

“THIS SHIT’S BOR-ING! *clap, clap, clap clap clap*

THIS SHIT’S BOR-ING! *clap, clap, clap clap clap*

THIS SHIT’S BOR-ING! *clap, clap, clap clap clap*”

“Riley, I don’t know what to say here. I don’t think Janus is leaving the ring, I don’t know who we can rely on to get him out of there, I don’t know how long this is going to delay things, I’m not sure if…wait a minute. Who’s that coming down the ramp?”

Janus has noticed the newcomer as well, his stare suddenly fixed on someone emerging from the backstage area. The camera switches to the ramp, and as soon as the image is displayed on the SmarksTron, the crowd begins to change their tone.

“What the hell…? That’s Nathaniel Kibagami!” exclaims Mark Stevens, and indeed it is. The former Clan member strides past the security guards, cane in hand. Nathaniel circles around to the announcer’s table and…slides into the ring.

“What is that idiot cripple doing in there? Janus just demolished three HEALTHY men. Kibagami doesn’t stand a chance in hell of getting that monster out of the –“

FWOOOOOOOOSH! THUNK!

FWOOOOOOOOSH! THUNK!

Three well-placed strikes with an all-too-familiar cane silence Bobby Riley and send the monstrous Janus back a step.

“Okay, maybe he can help the security guys get him out of the –“

FWOOOOOOOOSH! THUNK!

FWOOOOOOOOSH! THUNK!

Two shots to Janus’ left knee stagger the giant, sending him dangerously close to the ropes.

“Go on, Riley. I think you were about to say something funny.”

--

In the skybox, the SWF’s commissioner sits with an interested look on his face. He’s on the phone, again.

“Yeah, Sydney. If he gets that big bastard out of the ring, I want you to hit the music the instant his feet touch the floor. Get me a shot of his face, and get me a shot of the cane.”

”I think we’ve got something here.”

--

Janus throws a furious punch at his assailant, but Kibagami steps underneath the blow…

FWOOOOOOOOSH! THUNK!

Drives his cane into Janus’ jaw, pirouettes gracefully on one foot and…

FWOOOOOOOOSH! THUNK!

Delivers a final blow to the monster’s temple, sending him toppling out of the ring and into the waiting arms of the SWF security staff!

“What a display from Nathaniel Kibagami!” yells Mark Stevens above the roar of the crowd. “Is he returning to the SWF? What about his neck? What is he DOING here, now that I think about it?”

”Well, Mark, I’d think that he was—“ starts Riley, but Bobby is cut off by the sudden introduction of a very familiar song…

I’ve been crawling on my belly,

Clearing out what could’ve been,

I’ve been wallowing in my own confusing

Insecure delusions

For a piece to cross me over,

Or a word to guide me in…

I want to feel the changes coming down,

I want to know what I’ve been hiding…

The crowd goes berserk as Tool’s “Forty-Six and Two” rings out over SWF speakers for the first time in more than a year. The camera goes quickly to Kibagami’s face, and finds a man who looks as surprised as the announcers.

“Kibagami certainly doesn’t seem to have any idea what’s going on,” hollers Mark, “but he’s certainly returned to the SWF in a very big way, whether he intended to or not!”

“Well, I’m being told we’ve got to take a very short break to get everything back in order out here,” mutters Riley. “If you’ll excuse us for just a moment, ladies and gentlemen, we’ll being moving along with the show, as soon as the cripple gets out of the ring…”

The camera cuts back to Nathaniel Kibagami, standing triumphant in the ring…being cheered by a sold-out stadium crowd, with his cane still clutched in his hand. We get a shot of Janus at the top of the entrance ramp, straining against seven or eight men, trying his best to get back to the ring and confront his newfound opponent…

We’ll be right back, after these messages.

May 5, 2003

First there was nothing.

...

Then, there was an explosion of color and sound on TVs all around the world, a guitar-heavy, metallic song blasting over the speakers...

Always, known in, all my time,

A little left of center now

Reflect as I realize,

That all I need is to find the middle pillar path to sit like the sun by a star in the sky and

just be.

Sinners, casting stones at me

I... I stand, not crawling... not falling down

I... I bleed... the demons that drag me down

I... I stand, (For nothing...), not crawling, (...the center...), not falling down (...of calms within the eye...)

I... I'll bleed, (For no one...), The demons, (...but myself...), that pull me down (...for me and no one else!!!)

...And it was all good.

As “Not Falling” by Mudvayne blasts in the background, we are shown an arena, packed to capacity. Located in the center is a wrestling ring, a large walkway leading back to the stage area. Decommissioned military vehicles and apparati decorate most of what would be the stage area. The walkway is flanked on each side by artillery pieces, but the centerpiece is an AH-64 Apache helicopter that appears to be crashing into the Smarktron. Truly an amazing sight to behold for those who have shelled out the money to attend this event.

The venue... The Pepsi Arena.

The city... Denver, Colorado.

The event... SWF Battleground.

The fans are pumped up as they wave their signs, including one particularly funny one that reads “Why does everyone say "glass ceiling" like it's a BAD thing?” The attention then turns to the fabulous announcing team of “Grand Slam” Mark Stevens and Bobby Riley, who sit behind the announcer’s desk, which is decorated with a camoflauge paint pattern. How cool is that?

Stevens: Welcome back, ladies and gentlemen, to SWF Battleground, live from Denver, Colorado! We’ve already seen TWO great match-ups tonight!!

Riley: And I just woke up from a quick nap, if that’s any inication on how the previous matches were.

Stevens: But ladies and gentlemen, hold on to your hats, because next, we’ve got one hell of a match!!!

Riley: Can’t we just skip through to the main event... and Tom Flesher’s glory?

Stevens: No.

Riley’s mood turns from happiness to pouty as Stevens continues.

Stevens: Next up is a match between two men that have grown to hate each other as of late! “The Nightmare” Michael Craven was US Champion until Mike Van Siclen made him tap to the Cardinal Sin Clutch!!! Now, with the Gulf Coast Hurricane chasing The Spectacle for the US Title, he’s vowed to crush Van Siclen tonight! But more impressive is the title these two men are fighting over!

Riley: ...*yawn* Time to go to sleep again...

Stevens: This title has a hell of a legacy behind it! It’s been the center of some of the bloodiest and most brutal feuds in SWF history! It’s been worn by some of the great names in federation history! In fact, it’s been called...

Riley: ...The Pandagram Undergament Middleweight Championship of Alabama...

Stevens: ...Bobby, cut it out.

Riley: Hey, I’m just stating the facts. And it was YOUR Carnies that did it, too.

Stevens: You make it sound like it’s a BAD thing. But before I’m dragged off topic, you have to take a look at the past champions of this title! The list of US Title holders is a who’s who of the SWF’s tenure: Edwin MacPhisto... Tom Flesher... TNT... Jay Dawg... Sacred... Mercury... Outcast... Danny Williams... Chris Raynor... and... and... aaaaand...

Riley: Come on... say it... say it... SAY IT!!!

Stevens: *sigh* ...and Bobby Riley.

Riley: YES!!!

Riley: I was the US Champ... something YOU have NEVER done!!!

Stevens: You’ve also done something else that I’ve never done, and that I never will even come close to doing.

Riley: And what’s that? That I’ve proven I’m superior to you in every aspect?

Stevens: You’ve proven without a doubt that you’re gay.

Riley: You know what, Mark? I’m sick of your insults. SICK OF THEM!!! I’ve had it with your 6th-grade trast-talking!!! I’m just about ready to rip the mic from Funyon’s hands and proceed to stick it-

“BOOM-BOOM BOOM... BOOM...”

Riley is cut off as the lights totally cut out, the crowd begins to boo like crazy, and the announcers just shut up for a sec. Strobe lights pulse to the beat of the guitar in the background as Audioslave’s “Cochise” kicks in, smoke spewing from vents in front of the entrance as the drums cue in 24 seconds into the song. This is when golden waterfalls of pyro similar begin flowing from the top of the SmarkTron and the crowd really begins to raise their boos louder. A huge pyro blast kicks up from the front of the stage at the guitar drop, about 50 seconds into the song, strobes still going. Suddenly, as Chris Cornell begins to sing, a spotlight shines down on Michael Craven, standing on stage, missing his shiny SWF US Title wrapped around his waist. He stops turning to look at the fans, and quickly, he spins around twice, finishing by pointing to himself as the crowd begins to boo so loud, it hurts. His two belt girls follow him down the ramp, Craven not taking time to pose with them tonight as he makes his way down the ramp minus his usual swagger.

Funyon: The following contest is scheduled for one-fall, and it is for the SWF US CHAMPIONSHIP!!! Introducing first: From Tampa, Florida, weighing in at 280 pounds... ladies and gentlemen, please welcome...

Crowd: BOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Funyon: ...MICHAEL CRAAAAAAVEN!!!

He enters the ring by hopping over the top rope, landing on his feet. He climbs the turnbuckle closest to the crowd, points to himself, and then does a Steiner-like flex with his biceps, barely smiling as the crowd continues to boo him. Mike then hops off the turnbuckle, walks across the ring to another turnbuckle, climbs this, and repeats the whole thing, hopping off the turnbuckle as he focuses his attention on the stage, hunched over in a two-point stance as he awaits the champion.

Riley: Look at the fire in the kid’s eyes!!! He’s ready for this!!!

Stevens: Craven has made note of having plans for Van siclen, but has not disclosed those plans to anyone as of yet! What could he be planning? Only The Nightmare knows that for sure...

TING! TING! TING! TING!

The four quick cymbals and even quicker guitar riff that begin “Damage Done” by Dark Tranquility blasts throughout the arena, as the lights go out and blue strobes begins to flash in time with the music. Mike Van Siclen steps onto the ramp, the United States title slung over his acid-green jacket, resting on his shoulder as he poses in a bent crucifix on the top of the stage! The crowd gives him a decent reaction as he cockily steps down the ramp, but instead of continuing with his shtick he pauses at the end of the ramp, pointing at Craven and trash-talking him a bit.

Funyon: And from Harrison, Illinois, he weighs in at 237 pounds and is the SWF US CHAMPION... MIKE VAN SICLENNNNNN!!!

Van Siclen slides into the ring and extends his arms to the side, dropping his arms and letting his jacket slide off and to the mat. Referee Timmy Thompson, hassled, picks it up as Van Siclen takes the time out to hop onto the turnbuckle, where he points to the US Title as the crowd continues their decent reaction. A bitter and angry Craven tries to move in on MVS, but the referee, asking MVS for the belt as he dismounts off the turnbuckle, interferes. Craven stops, backing off, knowing that he can wait a few more seconds for Van Siclen.

Stevens: Craven showing unusual control, opting to back off and not knock the ref down to attack Van Siclen!

Riley: He NEEDS to be aggressive. Van Siclen was aggressive, and he took Craven’s US Title! If he’s gonna pussy-foot it again, he might as well lay down in the middle of the ring right now!

MVS hands off his title, the ref holding the US Title up to the crowd before he hands it off to the timekeeper. Van Siclen turns around, right into Craven. The Nightmare does not look please as he stares at Van Siclen, the Spectacle staring right back. The lines of tension seem to shoot from their eyes like laser beams or thunderbolts as the referee tries to explain directions. However, it is doubtful that the words sink in as the crowd, on their feet, cheers loudly while the two men stare each other down, the excitement building as the ref turns and signals to the timekeeper...

DING DING DING!!!

And off we go in this match.

The two men continue to stare each other down for a few more seconds, then there’s a back off, both men slowly beginning to circle each other. Intesnity is set upon the faces of the competitors as they circle each other, the crowd rising to a fevered pitch as a section farther back starts a “S-W-F!!!” chant. Neither man makes a move at first, wating for the other to make the first mistake, but when they realize that’s not coming, both men quickly lunge forward and throw down in a collar-and-elbow tie-up! The two instantly begin to jockey for position, trying to somehow force the other down, muscles straining, but Craven quickly forces Van Siclen back, resulting in a somewhat clean break.

Stevens: Fast start to this match as both men try to get the first strike in on each other!

Craven and MVS quickly strike at each other again, once more locking up in a collar and elblow tie-up. The Nightmare almost instantly wins it, though, quickly throwing a knee into Van Siclen’s chest before he grabs him around the head. Craven stomps the mat as he lifts MVS up, and falls back, rolling him into a hard snap suplex!

Stevens: Textbook snap suplex from The Nightmare as he hits the first move!

Riley: This is all part of Craven’s starting strategy: wear the opponent down to the point where he starts to slow down, then stick it to him!

As Craven gets to his feet, Van Siclen rising to his his, he drops to his knees as he grabs MVS, throwing him over onto his back with a fireman’s carry! MVS hits the mat hard, landing on his back again, but once more, he perseveres and rises to his feet, just in time for...

“SLAP!”

... a hard slap across the chest! “Whoooo!!!” replies the crowd as Craven draws his arm back and slaps MVS across the chest with another hard chop, causing the fans to go “Whoooooo!!!” again. Craven then suddenly switches over to right hands, delivering two hard ones to Mike’s temple before he grabs Van Siclen’s wrist and whips him to the ropes!

Riley: Michael Craven is doing what he needs to in order to win back his title. He’s not letting MVS get any opportunities to turn the momentum against him!

MVS flies to the ropes, bounces off them, and comes flying back, right into the arms of Craven. The former champ scoops up and clutches MVS across his chest, quickly spinning around before he drops, to the mat and executes an amazing powerslam!!!

Stevens: Powerslam by Michael Craven! An angry Craven is on the offensive charge, taking his frustrations out on Van Siclen!

As Stevens and Riley follow the match, Craven follows the slam up quickly as hooks Van Siclen’s leg, the ref dropping to count...

One!!!

...Kickout by MVS! Quickly, Craven gets to his feet and tries to pull MVS up, but the Spectacle breaks free of The Nightmare’s grasp, allowing him some space to move around as he gets to his feet. The crowd tries to encourage Van Siclen with an “M-V-S!” chant starting from stage left, slowly working it’s way around the audience.

Riley: These morons are cheering the wrong guy!!!

Stevens: The fans clearly seem to behind Mike Van Siclen, Bobby, because he treates them with some respect...

Riley: Why should they get respect? Are they all massaging his feet or styling his hair? Hell no!!!You gotta earn respect, and these idiots haven’t.

As Van Siclen tries to get away, Craven catches him in the act. The Nightmare nails MVS with two hard right hands to Mike’s temple before he can get away, then grabs Van Siclen’s wrist and whips him to the ropes! Van Siclen hits the ropes, Craven bending over to grab him for a flapjack...

“SMACK!”

...But MVS hits Craven with a surprise rolling wheel kick to the face off the ropes! Craven is knocked upright as he staggers back, grabbing his forehead while the US Champion rolls to his feet.

Stevens: And a surprise attack by Mike Van Siclen has Craven stunned!

Riley: Ooooooooo... a “big scary kick”!!! Mike Van Siclen hit a “big scary kick”! Looked more like an accident to me.

Stevens: An accident?

Riley: Yeah, he was trying to roll into Craven, but I guess he’s too stupid to even do that!

Craven looks dazed as Van Siclen draws his arm back, slamming his fist into Craven’s face with a huge right hand! You can feel the momentum begin to shift a little as Craven staggers back, Van Siclen answering with another right hand as the crowd’s chants grow louder. Craven tries to answer back with a hard right, but Van Siclen blocks it, landing another hard right into Craven’s face in return! The Nightmare staggers back again, but now, Van Siclen grabs Craven by the arm and whips him to the opposite ropes!

Stevens: Van Siclen has come alive, and so has this crowd!!

Craven comes hard off the ropes and is quickly treated to a nice clothesline, slamming him to the mat. Craven slowly starts to get up, Van Siclen reaching out to grab him, but as he does, Craven reaches up and pokes Van Siclen in the eyes! The US Champion grabs his eyes and staggers back slightly, allowing The Gulf Coast Hurricane to rise to his feet. As Van Siclen turns back around to face Craven, the former US Champion swings hard, lunging out with a right hook to Van Siclen’s face! MVS, though, ducks the quick hook attempt, hooking under that arm. He then lifts Craven off his feet, leveraging him over his hip and slamming The Nightmare back first on the mat with a hip toss. With Craven down on the mat, MVS take the opporutinty, moving behind Craven and quickly wrapping his arm around Michael’s head with a headlock!

Riley: A headlock?!?! What is this, “Happy Fun Amateur Wrestling Hour”?

Stevens: I believe he’s trying to wear the neck of Craven down! That neck has taken a LOT of punishment as of late, and Van Siclen knows it!

Riley: Like a dumb headlock is going to do that...

Craven’s eyelids shut, his teeth clenching as he tries to fight through the hold. With a free arm, he plants it on the mat and pushes upwards, forcing himself up against Van Siclen’s wishes. MVS attempts to send him back down with a twist of the locked arm, and though Craven drops to a knee for a sec, it is not enough to keep him down. As soon as he gets to his feet, Craven begins to jab his free elbow both hard and rapidly into the ribs of Mike Van Siclen. The Spectacle takes the first with a grunt, the second with a small cry, the third with another cry, but on #4, he releases the lock on Craven’s arm. The Nightmare runs forward, hitting the ropes and bouncing off them.

Riley: See? Look at that. Craven’s got no neck damage! He’s perfectly fine, Mark. That headlock sure did help a lot...

As Craven charges off the ropes, a recovering Mike Van Siclen turns to face Craven and steadies himself. As Craven extends his arm out for a clothesline, Van Siclen jumps onto the waist of Craven and hooks his hands behind The Nightmare's head and neck. MVS quickly falls backwards and and pushes with his legs, using the momentum of Craven to flip him over backwards onto the mat! Craven lands with a hard “THUD!” on his back, his head whipping back into the mat with a smaller “Thud!” as he lies down on the mat, prone for another attack!

Stevens: Monkey flip by Van Siclen, and Craven may have landed partially on his neck! He looks like he’s in a bit of pain, but he’s still down on the mat!

Van Siclen rises to his feet, the crowd energized as he makes a dash for the ropes opposite Craven, hitting them...

...

...but he doesn’t bounce back as one of Craven’s belt girls, Kiko, grabs hold of Van Siclen’s leg, holding him down in place while The Nightmare remains down.

Stevens: HEY!!! One of Craven’s girls has Van Siclen by the leg!!! She’s keeping him from attacking The Nightmare!

Riley: She’s not doing that!!! How dare you accuse her of that!!

Stevens: Then what is she doing?

Riley: His boot was untied, and she’s trying to help him!

Stevens: You know that’s a lie, Bobby.

Kiko holds on for dear life as Van Siclen tries to shake her off, but for some reason, she will just not let go. Her sister, and fellow Craven belt girl, Michelle, comes over to help, assisting her sister in holding Van Siclen down. The referee also sees the two interfering, and orders them to release Van Siclen’s leg. They seem hesitant to do so, but Van Siclen finally pulls his boot from their grasp. The two girls back up and head back to Craven’s corner, allowing MVS to focus on Craven once again. As he looks up, he suddenly drops down, a shocked look on his face, grabbing the top rope as he falls to the mat, pulling it down. Just as he does, Michael Craven charges from out of view at Van Siclen, hoping just to hit him with something, but instead, he hits the lowered top rope and flips over it to the outside!

Stevens: WHOA!! Van Siclen sends Craven flying over the top rope and to the outside!!! The Nightmare is down outside the ring, and it looks like he might have gotten hurt on that one, possibly!

Riley: Very unchampion-like, Mark. He’s tarnishing the good name of the SWF US Title, and someone’s got to do something about this!!!

The crowd pops as Craven hits the ground outside the ring hard with a “THUD!”. Van Siclen releases the top rope, getting back up onto his feet and running for the opposite ropes again. The Nightmare, meanwhile, is slow to get to his feet, his back stinging in pain from the spill. He clutches his back as he slowly rises to his feet, looking up just in time to see Van Siclen leaping over the ropes at him, legs thrusting out before they collide with Craven’s face! Both me go down as a result of the springboard dropkick, Craven’s neck and back slamming into the steel guardrailing outside the ring!

“THUD!” Craven cries out after impact, Van Siclen on the ground, taking a quick break to catch his breath.

Stevens: Van Siclen takes Craven down again! The question now may be “How long will Craven keep taking this punishment before he attacks?”

Van Siclen rises to his feet, the crowd cheering loudly for him as he grabs the downed Craven, rolling him back into the ring under the top rope. Craven ends up rolling onto his back as Van Siclen grabs the ropes and pulls himself up onto the apron.

Riley: It’s all in the strategy, Mark.

Stevens: I don’t know if Craven planned for this...

Riley: Of course he did! It’s all mind games! He’s fooling Van Siclen into thinking it’s gonna be a cakewalk, then, at the right time... BAM! Here comes the pain.

Stevens: And how do you know that’s what he’s planning.

Riley: It’s an easy guess. That’s what Flesher would do.

Stevens: *sigh* Everything always goes back to Flesher...

As Craven lies on the mat, looking up at the lights, Van Siclen jumps up onto the ropes, not even balancing himself before he jumps off, and as Craven recovers from the stinging slam into the guard rail outside the ring, MVS flies through the air, spiringboarding his body as he adjusts into the sitting position, his leg dropping across Craven’s throat in, well, a springboard leg drop!

Stevens: A springboard version of the Van Siclen Guillotine! Craven takes another blow to the neck... wait! Van Siclen’s going for the cover!!! Here’s the count!

One!!!

Two!!!

...Craven kicks his legs out and breaks the pin! The ref holds up two fingers to signify the count, but the crowd roars back with boos of displeasure.

Stevens: Only a two-count for Mike Van Siclen following a huge leg drop! I can’t believe Craven is letting Van Siclen do this to him!!!

Riley: I can’t either!!! This is crap!

As Van Siclen gets to his feet, Craven rolling onto his chest before he tries to get up, but Van Siclen quickly drops back down, driving a knee into the back of Craven’s neck! Craven drops to the mat, crying in pain as Van Siclen rises back up, delivering two quick stomps to Craven’s neck before he bends over. Grabbing Craven by the hair, he pulls him slowly up onto his feet, where Craven plants his hands into Van Siclen’s chest and pushes him back a few inches. This gives Craven enough space to reach back, clenching his fist, and swing it around into a hard right hook into MVS’ jaw! Van Siclen takes the blow, his head whipping around, spit flying from his lips from the punch as Craven readies a second. Van Siclen turns his head back around, right into the second hook. This one sends him staggering back towards the corner, Craven’s belt girls cheering him on as the crowd begins to quiet, boos beginnng to outnumber cheers. Van Siclen staggers forward, ready to fight, but takes a third hook, sending him staggering back to the ropes. He quickly regains his composure, though, but it’s too little, too late as Craven steps forward, swinging his arm out before he smashes it into MVS with a hard clothesline!

Stevens: What a clothesline from Craven! Van Siclen down hard on the mat, and he’s not getting up quick after that one!

Riley: He’s sending a message to Van Siclen, and to the SWF right now: Do NOT blow him off as a joke!

Craven bends down, pulling Van Siclen back to his feet, smiling with a smirk as the crowd continues to boo. The Nightmare makes sure MVS feels the pain, immediately nailing Van Siclen with a hard right to the temple! Van Siclen goes down stunned, dropping to the mat for a second. He quickly rises to his feet, where Craven fires off three rapid right hands and whips Van Siclen to the ropes. Van Siclen hits them and comes off them hard into Craven’s waiting arms as he lifts MVS up in the air as if for a back drop, but instead of tossing him over, pushes him up in the air when Van Siclen is horizontal and forcing him to hit the mat hard on his chest and face with a huge flap jack!!! Van Siclen bounces off the mat from the sheer recoil of the move, flipping onto his back and allowing Craven to cover him for a pinfall attempt!

One!!!

Two!!!

Shoulder up from Van Siclen at barely under two and a quarter! Craven drops right back down, trying to cover Van Siclen again...

One!!!

Two-

Abrupt kickout by Van Siclen at two! Craven can’t believe it as he gets to his feet. He grabs hold of Van Siclen, screaming at the ref about the “slow count” as he pulls Mike to his feet.

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

Riley: Damn slow count!! That was a three-count for sure!!! Timmy Thompson is screwing Craven out of a win!!!

Craven goes right to work on Van Siclen’s ribs as he pulls him to his feet, pounding it with a hard right body blow. Van Siclen cries out from the blow, just before Craven hits a second body blow to MVS. Van Siclen cries out a second time as Craven bends him over, then drives a knee hard into his chest. Van Siclen moans in pain as the crowd boos, but Craven ignores them as he goes about his business. With MVS in grasp, he turns him around so Craven is behind Van Siclen. Mike then reaches around Van Siclen’s body with one leg, so it’s around The Spectacle’s side and between his legs, hooking the leg on the same side as Craven’s leg. Craven then hooks Mike’s neck with both arms and pulls up, beginning to stretch Van Siclen’s chest apart, trying to do as much damage as he can as he bends Van Siclen sideways.

Stevens: Abdominal stretch on Mike Van Siclen!!!

Riley: Listen to him squeal, Mark!!! He’s in pain!!! I love it!

Reaching back towards the ropes as he frees up one arm, Craven grabs hold of the ropes, atempting to use the ropes as leverage for the hold

Stevens: Come on, ref! Craven’s blatantly cheating there!!!

Riley: He’s not cheating!

Stevens: Bobby, that’s blatant cheating, and you know it!!! You’re a hypocrite!

Riley: No it’s not. It’s thinking outside the box. And I am NOT a hypocrite... jusy by you calling me one makes YOU a hypocrite!

Looking over, the referee spots the use of the hand and calls for a rope break. Craven refuses at first, but when the ref threatens to DQ him on the spot, and he realizes that DQ equals no title, he reluctantly releases the hold, Van Siclen falling forward to the mat. MVS lands on the mat softly, but Craven quickly stomps MVS in the back, grabbing the ropes as he delivers a series of three quick, hard stomps as the crowd chants “CRAVEN SUCKS!” loudly at the challenger.

Stevens: The crowd is really getting on Michael Craven’s case!! I wonder if this will have an affect on Craven’s mind set!!!

Riley: You really think a guy with a degree in Psychology is gonna be bugged by a “Craven Sucks” chant?

Stevens: You may be right there, Bobby-

Riley: Of course I’m right. I’m ALWAYS right.

Van Siclen cries out after each stomp before Craven grabs Van Siclen, pulling him onto his feet. Once there, Craven brings his arm back before he swings it forward...

“SLAP!”

... hitting a hard slap across the chest! “Whoooo!!!” replies the crowd as Craven draws his arm back and slaps MVS across the chest with another hard chop, causing the fans to go “Whoooooo!!!” again. Craven then grabs Van Siclen’s wrist and quickly whips him to the ropes as the crowd boos.

Riley: Woooo!!! Perfect chops across the chest by Craven, and he’s starting to wear MVS down!!!

Stevens: Is this part of Craven’s “plan”?

Riley: The hell if I know.

Craven readies himself for his next move just as MVS returns from the ropes. As he approaches Craven, before he can react, Craven drops to the mat, and MVS is grabbed by Craven around the ankles with his own ankles for a drop toe hold!!! The crowd boos again as Van Siclen trips up and goes face first into the mat, the hold not released as Craven rolls over onto his back.

Stevens: Textbook drop toe hold-

The Nightmare grabs hold of MVS’ legs, crossing them as he clamps down on them before he reaches back and grabs Van siclen around the head, locking in a painful and devastating sickle hold on the Spectacle!!!

Stevens: Sickle hold on Mike Van Siclen!!!

Riley: Van Siclen’s screwed now!!!

MVS cries out in pain as he reaches out, trying to get to the ropes desperately. His arms are free, and using them, he pushes into the mat, slowly sliding himself along the canvas as he reaches out, each slide inching him closer and closer before he finally grabs hold of the ropes. The referee demands a rope break, and Craven gives the ref what he wants, though not willingly.

Stevens: And another rope break for MVS! Craven seems to be sticking with his submission holds early on here, hoping to wear down Mike Van Siclen with a series of moves that focus on the chest, then go for the kill!

Riley: That’s my Flesher... I mean Craven!!!

Van Siclen remains down on the mat, but Craven quickly grabs him and pulls him to his feet. Once there, The Nightmare takes action, driving a hard knee into MVS’ chest as he continues to wear down the Spectacle. Van Siclen cries out from the first knee as a second slams into his chest. Van Siclen grabs his ribs in pain before Craven grabs one of his wrists and once again whips him to the ropes!

Stevens: Craven’s got the advantage now, but MVS is still very much a threat!

Riley: MVS... a threat? MVS is less threatening than the entire country of France. Why doesn’t he just lie down and let Craven roll right over him?

Stevens: Any other useful analogies, oh great one?

Riley: Yeah. Getting a three-count is like scoring a goal in hockey. You know, that sport you played. You just got to “put it in the five-hole” at the right time and you score.

Stevens: ...And I refuse to comment on the gay undertones of THAT statement...

As MVS bounces back, he notices Craven in a prone position as he waits for the rebound. Taking a chance, MVS leaps into the air hoping to knock Craven back down with a crossbody… and he does!!! The Nightmare is thrown back by the sudden force flying at him, his shoulders pinning to the mat!

Stevens: Crossbody!!! Cover by MVS!

One!

But his hopes are denied as Craven rolls over, countering the pin, but before the ref even starts counting, Craven pulls MVS up off the mat, sending chills down Mark Stevens’ spine as the crowd boos.

Stevens: My God!!! Craven is just toying around with Van Siclen at this point, but that’s also what he did on Lockdown, and he ended up losing his title!

As Craven holds MVS across his chest, he quickly drops to a knee, slamming MVS onto the other knee with a rib breaker! Van Siclen cries in pain as the crowd winces, Craven lifting Van Siclen back into the air before dropping him into another rib breaker! The crowd gives an “Ooooh!” sound as MVS screams out again, Craven lifting him up for the final time as he hits a third straight rib breaker on Van Siclen! Releasing the Spectacle, Craven takes in the crowd’s boos while Van Siclen lies on the mat, clutching his ribs in pain.

Stevens: Massive rib breakers from Michael Craven, and it looks like... cover on Van Siclen by Craven! Is it enough?

One!!!

Two!!!

THR... kickout by MVS before three! The crowd cheers lightly while Thompson rises to his feet holding up two fingers again. Craven rises to his knees, pointing at MVS and holding up three fingers as he screams at Timmy Thompson, but the referee defiantly holds up two as Craven’s face turns redder with rage.

Stevens: Only a two and a half count for Michael Craven, but The Gulf Coast Hurricane is infuriated!!! He thinks he had him down for three counts, but Thompson disagrees!!!

Riley: Uh-oh... he’s gone and done it now... you know what this means, folks...

Stevens: “Craven Smash”?

A pissed-off Michael Craven rises to his feet slowly, leaning back, then slowly running towards the ropes. As he hits then and comes off them, he draws his leg back, swinging it forward fast and furiously as he drives the toe of his boot into Van Siclen’s ribs with a hard soccer kick! Van Siclen grabs his ribs quickly, convulsing slightly in pain, his eyes watering from the blow as the crowd boos Craven, an empty beer cup flying into the ring at Craven from the crowd. The Nightmare scans the arena, seeing the many booing fans, and makes a move to rile them up by taunting them...

...but then, he blows them off, considering them not worth the time or effort to harass. He’s got better things to do with his time. This sends the crowd into even more of a frenzy, the boos growing in number and intensity as Craven returns to the goal at hand: victory.

Stevens: The crowd really giving it to The Nightmare in what so far has turned out to be a spectacular match!

Riley: It’s more exciting than an episode of “Mr. Personality”, I’ll give it that much.

Stevens: “Mr. Personality”? You watch that crap?

Riley: You bet! I sometimes wish I was there!

Stevens: How so? As one of the guys... or as a replacement for the chick?

Reaching down to the ground, Craven begins to pull MVS up onto his feet again, Van Siclen taking great care to guard his chest against another attack. Once Van Siclen is on his feet, Craven draws his arm back, impacting Van Siclen’s face with a hard right! Van Siclen’s head whips back to the right, but he turns it back around, and suddenly, he swings his arm around, nailing Craven with a defiant right hand of his own! Craven’s head snaps to the side, but he turns it back around and unleashes a right, which is countered by a Van Siclen right to a crowd pop, and then off goes the exchange of blows; First Craven again, then Van Siclen... then Craven... Van Siclen... Craven... Van Siclen... Craven... Van Siclen... Craven... Van Siclen... Van Siclen... and Van Siclen again, the crowd cheering louder with each successive MVS punch! Craven’s momentum has been stopped just enough, allowing MVS to grab him by the arm and whip him to the ropes! The Nightmare reverses the whip, sending The Spectacle flying towards the opposite ropes! Craven waits for MVS, and as he bounces back, Van Siclen messes with Craven’s plans, leaping up into the air and thrusting his legs out as he connects with a dropkick to Craven’s face!

Stevens: Dropkick to Craven’s face!!! Van Siclen’s feeling the tide start to turn, both men trying to scramble to their feet!

As Stevens finishes that comment, Craven rises to his feet, trying desperately to throw a haymaker that could send Van Siclen back to the mat... but the Spectacle ducks, sliding behind Craven! The Nightmare doesn’t have time to even breathe as Van Siclen grabs him around the head, then drops back, slamming Craven’s neck to the mat with a crude but effective neckbreaker! Craven lands hard on his neck, remaining down as MVS releases the hold and rolls onto Craven for a pinfall attempt!

One!!!

Two!!!

TH... Craven gets the shoulder up! The crowd boos at the referee as he jumps up and holds up two fingers. Van Siclen shakes his head as he gets to his feet, Craven trying to sit up as he grabs his neck.

Stevens: Two count for Van Siclen after a neckbreaker! He’s going for that neck he’s been weakening over the past two shows!

Riley: Craven’s at a disadvantage, but that will make his victory all the more sweeter, Mark!!!

As Craven staggers to his feet, facing away from MVS, Van Siclen lunges at him from behind, arm extended for a clothesline! Craven, though, just barely catches a glimpse of him out of the corner of his eye, and in the nick of time, ducks the blow! Van Siclen runs past Craven, stopping and turning around just as Michael Craven brings his right forearm up and swings it down at MVS! Van Siclen brings both hands up, blocking Craven’s forearm smash as he grabs The Nightmare’s arm, running at Craven with it. In doing so, he wraps that arm around Craven’s neck before he falls back, hitting Craven with a vital Union Jack neckbreaker!!!!

Stevens: Blackjack Neckbreaker!!! Craven is down!!! Craven is down!!!

Riley: Crap!!! This can’t be it!!! He’s gotta get up, dammit!!!

Stevens: He’s going for it!!! Here’s the cover!!! This could be it!!!

Riley: Not while I’m alive it’s not!

MVS hooks Craven’s leg, the crowd counting:

One!!!

Two!!!

...Three?

Nope.

The crowd bursts into boos as Van Siclen looks up, seeing the ref distracted by belt girl Michelle as she tries to climb into the ring with a steel chair for Craven. The referee commands her to return to the outside of the ring and take the chair with her, but Michelle tries to fight the referee to get inside the ring. Thompson blocks her access, facing away from Van Siclen and oblivious to the pin attempt! MVS yells at Thompson, who doesn’t hear him at the moment. Eventually, Van Siclen releases the pin, realizing right now, it’s futile to keep Craven pinned if the ref doesn’t see it, and slowly, he rises up onto his feet, determined to take care of the situation himself.

Stevens: Damn!!! MVS might have had Craven for three there!!!

Riley: That’s the breaks!

Stevens: No that’s not!!! That’s blatant cheating on the part of Michael Craven!!!

Riley: I triple guarantee you, there was no cheating by Craven.

Van Siclen gets to his feet, slowly making his way to the ref just as the second girl jumps up onto the apron, trying to help out her sister. The ref now tries to send the two of them back down and keep them from entering the ring, but he’s having some problems with it.

Stevens: Will someone please do something about that?!?!

Riley: Uhhhh... no.

Van Siclen finally reaches the ref, starting to complain about the lack of a pin. As he complains, one of the two girls tries to hit him. Van Siclen doesn’t take too kindly to the action, and quickly, he tries to knock the two girls off the apron, but Michelle takes a stab at his ribs with the chair. Van Siclen jumps back, ducking the shot, slowly walking back from the two girls as the argue with the ref...

WHAM!

Van Siclen suddenly screams in pain, his voice going up about two octaves as the crowd jeers at the sight of a balled fist slamming into Van Siclen’s groin from behind, compliments of a ticked-off Michael Craven.

Stevens: DAMMIT! CRAVEN JUST LOW BLOWED VAN SICLEN!!!

Riley: ...What low blow?

Stevens grabs Riley by the head and points to Craven’s fist in MVS’ groin.

Stevens: That one!!!

Riley: That’s not a low blow.

Stevens: Yes it is, but even so, Craven’s still reeling from that Blackjack Neckbreaker, because he had to CRAWL over to Van Siclen to low blow him! And he couldn’t even do that fast!

Riley: There was no low blow by Craven! In fact, Van Siclen has low blowed himself and has been condemned. Van Siclen is stupid. He is stupid... (dramatic pause)... and he is condemned, King be praised!!!

Van Siclen’s eyes roll back into his head as the still-hurting Craven, who hasn’t been able to get to his feet after the last move, grabs the front of Van Siclen’s wrestling attire and pulls back before MVS can fall to the mat. Simultaneously, the girls jump off the apron, the referee turning around to see Van Siclen’s shoulders pinned to the mat, and he drops down to count...

One!!!

Two!!!

THREE!!!

The crowd reacts appropriately as the two men separate from the pin, the announcers silent in stunned awe of the whole thing, Craven landing on his back as Van Siclen falls to his chest. The referee springs to his feet, signaling to the crowd the result of the roll-up pin...

...as he holds up two fingers into the air!!!!!!!

Stevens: OH MY GOD!!! VAN SICLEN KICKS OUT!!! VAN SICLEN KICKS OUT AT TWO AND NINETY-NINE ONE-HUNDREDTHS!!!!! THAT WAS THE ABSOLUTE LAST MOMENT HE COULD HAVE GOTTEN OUT!!! I THOUGHT CRAVEN HAD HIM FOR SURE!!!

Bobby Riley doesn’t have an immediate reply as he has fallen out of his chair, lying on the floor in a heap in shock from the sudden change of events, screaming:

Riley: NO!!!! NO!!!! IT’S NOT RIGHT!!!!

Craven is in the same state of shock as Riley, screaming out in anger as he slams his fist down into the mat, the crowd cheering for Van Siclen’s break of the roll-up pin! Craven’s hands graps the sides of his face as he screams in an angry disbelief. Then, he quickly turns his head around at Timmy Thompson, holding up three fingers as he slowly pushes himself off the mat with the other arm, yelling at the ref that he had MVS down for three counts. Thompson still holds up two as Craven gets to his feet, the unhappy Craven making his way over to Thompson. He gets in Thompson’s face, backing him up as he screams he had the three-count while holding up three fingers. Thompson keeps backing up, eventually backing himself into the corner as Craven continues to yell at him.

Stevens: First the low blow, now he’s harassing the referee!!!

Riley: He is stating his case!!! That’s not harassment!!!

While Craven continuesto argue with Thompson, there’s a large cheer from the crowd, and Thompson suddenly darts out of the corner. Craven doesn’t have time to react, or even look back, as Mike Van Siclen nails Craven in the back of the neck with a forearm smash! Craven flies into the turnbuckle and staggers back out, Van Siclen bouncing off Craven as he waits for The Nightmare to turn around.

Stevens: Van Siclen with a forearm from behind into Craven’s neck!

Riley: Drat!!! I was hoping that Craven would prove his point!!

As Craven turns around to face Van Siclen, clutching his neck, The Spectacle grabs him by the arm and whips him to the opposite ropes, but Craven reverses the whip! Van Siclen looks to be heading to the ropes, but in Anlge-eqsue form, Craven holds tight, pulling Van Siclen back towards him before he clasps down a waistlock! Van siclen is trapped as Craven lifts him high up and squeezes down, locking in a rib-breaking bearhug!!!

Stevens: Bearhug by Craven!!!

Riley: This is it!!! He’s gonna tap out!!!

Craven holds onto Van Siclen, squeezing the life out of him as he laughs, Van Siclen crying in pain, but Van Siclen all the meanwhile draws his arms back, and he claps his hands around Craven's head, disrupting his equilibrium! Craven drops Van Siclen, staggering back as he grabs his head and shakes it, allowing Van Siclen to run at about eighty percent to the ropes. Hiting them and bouncing off, he flies back, not at full speed, though, towards Craven, slamming into him with his shoulder! The quick shoulder block knocks Craven to the mat, and Van Siclen again heads for the ropes at a slower than normal pace, exhaustion perhaps setting in as Craven slowly rises to his feet. The Nightmare is greeted by Van Siclen jumping in the air, catching Craven's neck between his legs before crossing his anklesand falling to the mat, pulling down Craven with a head scissors takedown!!!

Stevens: Head scissors takedown!!! Both men to the mat in this see-saw battle!!

Van Siclen and Craven both hit the mat, landing apart from each other; Craven on his back, Van Siclen on his chest. Neither man moves at first, but then, the crowd pops as Mike Van Siclen slowly moves, grabbing at the canvas as he crawls slowly towards Michael Craven. The Nightmare is motionless as Van Siclen, cheered on by the crowd, closes in on him, and as he reaches Craven, slides on top of him and hooks Craven’s leg, the ref dropping to count...

One!!!

Two!!!

THRE...Craven kicks his legs out and breaks the pin! The ref holds up two fingers to signify the count, but the crowd roars back with boos of displeasure. Van Siclen sits up on his knees, hands on his hips as he takes a breather, but he’s still in pain.

Riley: Van Siclen is feeling the effects of those earlier moves by Michael Craven!!! He’s in pain with each breath he takes!

Stevens: But Van Siclen has the crowd behind him, and he’s somehow getting back onto his feet!!! But you’re right, Bobby! He looks like he’s in pain! Then again, so does Craven!

Reaching over, Van Siclen pulls Craven to his feet slowly, nearly dropping him before he gets him upright. Once there, he nails him with a kick to the chest, then pumps both fists into the air as Craven bends over forward. With Craven bent over, Van Siclen formulates a plan. Sliding Craven’s head between his legs, he reaches over and wraps his arms around the Nightmare's legs and up near his hips. Straining, the Spectacle lifts Craven as he straightens himself completly in a standing position.

Stevens: Siclen’s setting Craven up for the Riot Act! If he lands it, this is over!

However, as MVS tries to lift Craven, The Gulf Coast Hurricane won’t budge! Van Siclen, almost spent by this point, tries again, but Craven begins to stand up, straining his leg muscles as he lifts MVS up and flips him over onto his back, countering out with a back body drop that knocks MVS to the mat!

Riley: Back body drop!!! Craven’s not done yet, folks!!!

Stevens: Don’t get over-confident, Bobby. You’re going to go itno a rant on how Craven’s like Flesher and is invincible... I know you too well.

Riley: But he’s got Van Siclen on the mat!!!

Stevens: Actually, Mike looks to be trying to get to his feet... though not very well right now...

Van Siclen slowly rises to his feet, turning around as an exhausted Craven ducks down, sliding MVS onto his shoulders. However, Mike positions Van Siclen so his head is on Mike’s left shoulder instead of his right. As the crowd begins to boo, he winds up, twisting his body clockwise as far as it can go. Then, he uncoils and launches MVS into the move, rotating him around like Brock Lesnar, but as he swings, Van Siclen slides off Craven’s shoulders before he can fully execute the move. The Spectacle grabs Craven around the head in a front headlock, swinging his legs around as he spins Craven around and drops back, implanting Craven head-first into the mat with a massive Tornado DDT!!!

Stevens: WHAT A COUNTER!!! VAN SICLEN JUST SAVED HIMSELF!!! If Craven had hit that Gulf Coast Crunch, we would have had a new champion!!!

Both men with the mat with a massive “THUD!” as the crowd marks out for the move, but once there, neither man moves. The crowd cheers loudly, their hatred of Craven running very deep. Neither man moves still, forcing the referee to start the dreaded ten-count...

One!!!

Neither man makes any movement, even as we approach the beginning of...

Two!!!

Still no movement at first, but suddenly, Van Siclen stirs. Craven the follows suit just as the ref reaches...

Three!!!

Stevens: Van Siclen and Craven are both still dazed from that huge DDT, but Van Siclen’s trying to get to his feet!!!

Van Siclen makes headway, getting onto a knee as Craven tries to push himself up as the ref counts...

Four!!!

Van Siclen stops for a second to catch his breath, a mistake as Craven keeps chugging along, pushing himself onto his knees. He does not stop, though, and begins to push himself onto his feet, his teeth and eyes clenched in pain from his neck as the ref reaches...

Five!!!

...But Craven suddenly slips on the mat, falling down towards it as Riley lets out a cry of terror!

Riley: NO!!! Get up, Craven!!! Get up!!

Stevens: It’s like Apollo Creed in “Rocky II”!! Craven was set to get up first, but he’s slipped and can’t get up!!

The audience watches the events unfold with great intensity as the ref counts...

Six!!!

Craven hits the mat as Van Siclen continues his ascent to his feet. He, too, nearly slips and falls, but he manages to catch himself, pushing himself slowly back up while the count reaches...

Seven!!!

Van Siclen is on his feet, Craven still on the mat, prompting a concerned comment from Bobby Riley.

Riley: Something’s wrong. This can’t be happening! Craven’s got to be in trouble!!! Something is very wrong!

As Craven lies out on the mat, a recovering Mike Van Siclen kicks Craven in the back, causing him to roll over onto his stomach, still clutching his neck in pain from the Tornado DDT. Van Siclen, grinning at the opportunity to end this now, steps over Craven with his right leg so that he's straddling the Nightmare. Van Siclen steps in front of Craven's legs, sitting down and pulling back so that Craven's arms are trapped behind Van Siclen's legs! Having Craven's arms taken out of the picture, Van Siclen is free to reach forward with both arms, clasping them together and then putting them across the bridge of Craven's nose, pulling back to put Craven into a crossface from the Camel Clutch position, which Van Siclen calls...

Stevens: CARDINAL SIN CLUTCH! CRAVEN LOST THE TITLE BECAUSE OF THIS MOVE!!!

Riley: DAMMIT!!! NO!!!

The crowd erupts at Van Siclen's signature submission, as Craven's face twists into a mask of pain, the damage Van Siclen has delivered to his neck being amplified THREEFOLD, the submission quickly taking effect as the fans begin to chant "YOU'VE GOTTA TAP! YOU'VE GOTTA TAP!" Craven remembers the belt, though, and tells himself he has to hold out, even as Thompson asks him if he wants to tap out, he responds with a loud, emphatic:

Craven: HELL NO!

Van Siclen, hearing this, just pulls back even harder on Craven's neck, SCREAMING at him to tap, tap away his chance to regain his title. Craven reaches out for the ropes, but he’s not close enough, and although Craven doesn't want to give up, he has only one choice!

...

“TAP! TAP! TAP!”

Stevens: MY GOD!!! I THINK CRAVEN JUST TAPPED!!! I THINK HE-

Stevens looks over, noticing Bobby Riley’s jittery foot hitting the side of the table as he holds onto his chair, making the “TAP! TAP! TAP!” sound that Stevens mistook for Craven tapping.

Stevens: DAMMIT, RILEY!!! STOP THAT!!!

Riley: I can’t help it!! Craven’s in trouble!!!

However, in the ring, the action and mood suddenly change. Craven, putting his mind to use, slowly gets his knees under his body out of Van Siclen’s sight, and once there, throws himself into one depserate last move, shifting his body weight and rolling backwards so that he pins Van Siclen under him!

Stevens: CRAVEN’S FOUND A COUNTER!!! HE’S FOUND A COUNTER TO THE CARDINAL SIN CLUTCH!!!

The ref drops to the mat as Van Siclen is pinned to the mat, Craven hoping he either breaks the hold or that Van Siclen doesn’t and that he gets the pin!!!

One!!!

Two!!!

Van Siclen reluctantly releases the hold and breaks the pin!!! The crowd lets out a collective gasp while Riley jumps out of his seat in joy, grinning from ear to ear while he shouts in joy.

Riley: HE BROKE IT!!! HE BROKE THE CARDINAL SIN CLUTCH!!!

Both men are down, Craven struggling to push himself up as Van Siclen gets up slower than the thought process of Nathan Jones. Both Craven and Van Siclen shows the signs of exhaustion: the sweat, the red faces, the slow movement... it’s all there. As Van Siclen climbs back onto his feet, Craven raches his feet and notices opportunity, quickly drawing his arm back like a shortstop scopping up a grounder and throwing it to first before he draws his hand close to his head and drives his forearm into the head of Mike Van Siclen with amazing force! MVS is slammed hard down onto the mat, grabbing his head as Craven stands tall, breathing heavily while the crowd booing him profusely. One hand is on his hips, the other on his neck, and he bends over, sucking air in while the sweat drips onto the mat and Craven cries out in pain from the neck pain.

Stevens: WHAT A FOREARM SMASH!!!

Riley: Now THAT’S Craven-style wrestling!!! Big, powerful moves that knock your ass down!!!

Michael Craven is still up, looking extremely exhausted. Bending over, he slowly grabs Mike Van Siclen, ready to make him pay now. Slowly pulling him up, and nearly dropping him, he pulls Van Siclen to his feet, grabbing his wrist, and whips him to the corner. Mike slams back first into the corner, but Craven charges in before he sandwiches Van Siclen between steel and flesh with a huge splash in the corner!!!

Riley: Avalanche splash from Michael Craven!!! That’s the only Avalanche of any kind that seems to do any good around here, if you know what I mean...

Fan: SHUT UP!!! WE HATE YOU, YOU GAY FREAK!!! Why don’t you go back to San Francisco where you belong!!!

Stevens: Hey!!! I’ve been to San Francisco, dammit!!! They have some nice salons there!

Stevens: Bobby, stop it now. You rememberwhat happened last time, right?

Riley: Where the guy hit me with that big, pink, plastic, battery-powered-

Stevens: Yeah, that time... wait... what’s that in your pocket?

Riley looks down and quickly shoves something big and pink back into his pocket.

Riley: Water bottle. In case I get thirsty.

Craven immediately goes nuts, the adrenaline rushing as he begins his assault, starting off with a rapid series of ten shoulder thrusts to the ribs, then a couple of heavy, hard kicks to the chest. Van Siclen falls to the ground, where Craven places his foot across Mike’s throat and presses down as he holds the ropes, purposely choking him as the ref tries to break the hold. When Thompson comes near, though, Craven swings at him, then turns back to Van Siclen, stomping his chest violently before he goes back to choking Mike. This pattern cotinues for almost a minute, until the ref gets in between and breaks up the choke.

Stevens: Craven’s gone mad!!! I’m glad someone stopped him!!!

Riley: Well, looks like Craven’s pulling him up... how helpful... and he’s backing up...

Mike staggers forward out of the corner, Craven ducking behind him, putting his head between the Spectacle's legs and standing up so that Van Siclen is sitting on Craven's shoulders, in position for the one move that might be able to end the insanity. And as Craven grabs Van siclen’s legs and swings him down to the mat, the electric chair drop he hits slams Van Siclen to the mat chest first, just as the doctor ordered. However, Craven falls onto his back, too exhausted at the second to make the cover.

Stevens: MERCURY RISING!!! But Craven’s too exhausted to make the pin!!!

Riley: Get up!! Get up and make the pin!!! You’ve got this won!!! You’ve got this won, Craven!!!

The Nightmare soon sits up, though, and slowly rolling Van Siclen over, covers him for what might be the last time in this match!!!!

One!!!

Two!!!

THRE-NO!!! Van Siclen barely manages to get the kickout, and Craven can’t believe it!!! Slowly now, he begins to stand up, grabbing Van Siclen by the long black hair and lifting MVS to his feet, his muscles tightening as he struggles.

Riley: I don’t believe that horrendous slow count by Thompson, but Craven’s got Van Siclen back up, and he’s setting him up for some more punishment!!!

Straining every muscle in his frame, with The Spectacle on his feet, The Nightmare delivers a hard shot to Van Siclen’s chest, then whips Van Siclen into the ropes, and when he comes back, locks a hand over his throat!

Stevens: What the....is he... don’t tell me he’s going for ... a chokeslam?! Does he even have the strength left to lift Van Siclen into the air?

Riley: Come on, Craven!!! Dig deep!!! You can do it!!! Break that son of a bitch in two!!

Despite being exhausted to near death, Craven lets out a furious cry as he hoists Van Siclen into the air with both arms, right before he slams Van Siclen into the canvas with a thundering chokeslam! The entire ring shakes from the impact, Van Siclen hitting the mat hard, but Craven collapsing to the canvas with him!

With Van Siclen laid out on the mat, and being on his knees, Craven wastes no time, crawling slowly forward to the nearest corner. The crowd boos as The Nightmare shimmies across the ring at a snail’s pace, practically dragging his feet behind him, a dazed and exhausted look upon his face.

Stevens: Craven slowly crawling towards the corner!!! I have no idea what he’s going for here, but he’s moving towards that corner still!!!

Riley: That means it’s top rope time, and that can only mean one thing!!!

Stevens: That you’re gay?

Riley: Yes! That I’m-NO!!!!

He eventually reaches the corner, and slowly, he grabs the top rope, dragging himself up, stepping onto the ropes as he pulls himself up...

...and mounts the turnbuckles! Turning slowly around and looking down at Mike, Craven stands tall and confident. The crowd knows what’s coming next, and so does Riley.

Riley: It's time for the Best Damn Finisher....in the WORLD!! Heehee!

Throwing himself off the turnbuckle, Craven does a perfect backward somersault in the air, flipping 360 degrees and then some, the flashes of cameras bouncing off his skin, sweat flying from his body as it spins, his knee driving down straight...

...into the canvas as Van Siclen rolls out of the way! Craven’s body slams into the mat violently, both men now down as Craven’s head hits the mat and whips back, possibly further injuring that neck.

Stevens: He missed!!! He missed the shooting star knee drop from the top!!! Both men are down!!!

Riley: No shit!!! Craven took a hard bump from that miss. He’ll feel that one in the morning!

Stevens: I thought for sure that Van Siclen was out of it!!! Mak Francis was put away in the exact same manner that Craven just tried to defeat Mike Van Siclen with, but Van Siclen garnered up enough strength to roll out of the way!!! And if matters aren’t worse enough for The Nightmare, Van Siclen is getting to his feet, albeit VERY slowly!!!

Riley: Now hold on there!!! Don’t forget The Nightmare! He’s making strides to get to his feet... also very slowly... and... umm... he looks kind of exhausted...

Craven staggers to his feet, essetially spent as far as energy goes, the crowd buzzing with joy as a rising Van Siclen moves in on Craven. Craven is helpless to stop Van Siclen from bringing his arm up, nailing Craven in the neck as he swings it down with a hard neck chop! Craven literally screams in pain, tears forming in his eyes as Van Siclen draws the arm up, lunging down with another chop! The crowd pops, and from it comes a small “Wooo!!” as Craven grabs his neck and staggers away. Van Siclen lashes out with a third chop, and as Craven screams from that one, he grabs the other arm of Michael Craven. He whips Craven to the ropes, The Nightmare hitting them as Van Siclen awaits his return, crouched down to strike as Craven moves in closer...

Closer...

“WHAM!!!”

“THUD!!!”

Stevens: GORE!!! GORE!!!! CRAVEN WITH A SURPRISE GORE ON VAN SICLEN!!! HE’S PRACTICALLY SNAPPED HIM IN TWO, AND HERE’S THE COVER!!!

One!!!

Two!!!

THREE!!!

But this time... there is no kickout, no escape, and no chance of a Van Siclen come back.

DING DING DING!!!

“Cochise” begins to blare over the speakers as Thompson signals that this one’s over, getting the belt from the timekeeper.

Funyon: Your winner and NEW SWF US CHAMPION... MICHAEL CRAVENNNNN!!!

Stevens: I do not know where that finish came out of!!! I tohught for sure that Craven was done for after he missed the shootnig star knee drop!!!

Riley: I HAVE to see that again!!! I don’t know how Craven got it, either!!!

We are suddenly treated to the Pepsi Max Replay, where we see the chops to the neck by Van Siclen, then the whip, and as the Spectacular One prepares for what looks like a spinning heel kick, he suddenly finds himself broken in half as Craven powers off the ropes to crack him in the punished ribs with a Sonic Boom! Van Siclen yells in pain and crumples to the canvas, and Craven drops to hands and knees by his side, breathing heavily before he covers Van Siclen and the ref counts one-two-three.

Riley: WOW. That looked like it hurt.

Stevens: An impressive gore from Michael Craven, known otherwise as the Sonic Boom, allows Craven to regain the SWF US Championship after MVS took it from him via the Cardinal Sin Clutch!

During the replay, the ref has helped Craven to his feet and handed him the title. The referee lifts Craven’s arm into the air as we return from replay, the crowd booing loudly as a few empty beer cans and popcorn bags fly into the ring. The EMT crew from backstage is already on their way down the walkway as the ref releases Craven’s arm, The Nightmare falling onto his hands and knees, unable to stand after the hellacious match.

Stevens: This match had everything: excitement, tension, and an unpredictable finish!! However, still up on the card is our main event! Frost, TNT, and Tom Flesher, in a threeway dance of destruction for the World Title!!! Will a member of Chilly Chilly Bang Bang walk off with the title, or will Flesher show why he has earned the nickname of “The Superior One”? We’ll find out later tonight!!!

Riley: I’m going with the second one!

The EMTs enter the ring and split up, half catering to Van Siclen, the Spectacle clutching his ribs, finding it hard to breathe. But Craven does not go unscathed, as his neck is bright red, throbbing in pain, and he claims of pain surging throughout his whole body as the EMTs try to help each of the men to the back in whatever way they may need to.

Stevens: But after we clean up the mess in the ring, it’s ICTV Title time!!! Jay Dawg battles Danny Williams! Wrestling styles clash and the fists will fly as these two men collide... next!

May 5, 2003

Funyon: The following bout is for the ICTV Championship! This contest is scheduled for one fall and is set at a 45 minute time limit.

Suddenly, the hypnotic bass line of In Flames’ “Jester Dance” dances it’s way out of the loud speakers, entrancing the once hostile crowd. As the heroic power chords kick in, the drapes covering the locker room entrance begin to shift around, finally peeling in half, revealing none other than Danny Williams.

Funyon: Introducing first, the challenger, weighing in at 238 pounds, and hailing from Louisville, Kentucky.........DANNY WILLIAMS!

Clearly behind the underdog, the fans instantly erupt into a respectful ovation. Looking like a shy, high school kid that’s about to give a speech in front of the entire school, Danny stiffly and awkwardly marches towards the ring like he’s dreading every step.

Riley: This is not the confident man we saw marching down the aisle a few shortweeks ago, in fact he looks more than little scared, he looks terrified.

Stevens: Danny Williams is facing the greatest challenger of his career, that being Jamie Drazon. A legit bad ass with a Judo background, who just over a month ago, beat Danny within an inch of his life in a brutal ladder match that I don’t think any of us will forget.

Riley: So why in god’s name would he come back, and challenge J.D. to a rematch?

Stevens: Because Drazon is guarding the gateway to the next level, the ICTV Championship. If Williams wants to move ahead in this business he has to get past Drazon, there’s no way around it.

Riley: He could have waited, though. You know, maybe have a few more tune up matches or something, before jumping right back in there with the man that ALMOST KILLED HIM!

Stevens: True, but you also have to take into consideration that for the first time in his career, Danny Williams is a leader who has people looking up to him. Danny must set example for Dace and Va’aiga, he must be the standard bearer for the Unholy Trinity, the defender of it’s pride. He cannot simple give up and admit defeat even if it means marching into certain death, which is what many experts believe he is doing tonight.

Riley: Including me.

With out warning, colorful fireworks light up the arena like it’s the fourth of July!

"THIS

IS

MAH

HOUSE!!"

The heavy beats of Rammestein thunder over the arena, threatening to bust ear drums and break glass. His head hanging down as if he is staring at his own shoes, Drazon proudly steps out on the platform.

Funyon: And his opponent, weighing in at 243 pounds, and hailing from Vancouver, B.C. ....... THE ICTV CHAMPION..........JAMIE DRAZOOOOOOOOOOOOOON!!!

A creepy smile forms on Drazon’s face as he briefly raises his head to look down at the ring and his awaiting opponent. The crowd begins to ruthlessly taunt Drazon as he makes his way down to the ring.

Stevens: Feeling that Williams was attacking his credibility when he mentioned he had a coma in their ladder match for the title, Drazon has promised to not only defeat Williams tonight but punish and humiliate him as well.

Riley Can you really blame the guy? How would you feel if someone tried to take away your greatest achievement, and write it off as fluke.

Stevens: I would be angry, but I don’t think that was Danny Williams’ intention. However, I don’t think it’s credibility with the fans that Drazon’s after. I think it’s Drazon himself who thinks the ladder match is a tainted victory, and the only way to prove to himself that he deserves the title, is by beating Williams cleanly.

With a self assured smile across his face, Drazon unbuckles the title, and hands it to Soapdish, who raises it over his head for all to see.

Stevens: And that is what it’s all about right there, the ICTV Championship!

Soapdish hands the title to an outside official, and with both men ready in their corners, he calls for the bell!

DING! DING! DING!

There long wait finally over, the crowd gives a riotous applause. Doing his best to look like his cool, usual self, Williams slowly wanders out of his corner like he’s on a death march. Drazon on the other hand is oozing confidence, strutting to the center of the ring with a snug smirk etched across his face.

Stevens: And were off! Williams vs. Drazon II, ICTV Title on the line!

Riley: Will Danny Williams can put his money where his mouth is, or will Jamie Drazon put his foot up his ass!

The bitter rivals pause, look each other in the eye, and clash together in a collar elbow tie up! In an instant, Williams breaks the grapple, and bashes Drazon with a surprise Elbow Smash that causes his knees to buckle!

CRACK!

Instead of going down like his brain commands him to, Drazon fights off the effects of the stiff strike, stubbornly maintaining a vertical base! His teeth clinched tight, with fat veins bulging out of neck, Drazon violently trembles as he absorbs the throbbing pain in his head like a wet sponge. Once the pain passes, Drazon looks Williams square in the eye as if to ask,”Is that all you got?”. Williams nervously steps out of attacking range, and looks to the crowd with uncertainty.

Stevens: To watch Drazon shake off one of his best strikes like that has got to be a serious blow to Williams’ already shaky confidence.

Riley: Williams’ isn’t gonna squash Drazon, like he did Ced a few weeks back. Drazon isn’t some broken down retiree looking for revenge, he’s a very dangerous man that will do a hell of a lot more than just fight back.

So nervous that he isn’t even aware that he’s stalling, Williams stares off into space ignorant to the fact that he’s keeping Drazon waiting.

Losing his patience, Drazon barks at Williams, “Come on, motherfucker!”

The loud profanity snaps Williams back into reality. As if he remembers he has to act tough, Danny quickly regains his outwardly fearsome profile. Realizing what Drazon just called him, Williams responds with a hateful glare that would inspire terror in most men, but not the ICTV Champion. As if he can look past Williams’ hardened exterior and smell his hidden fear, Drazon cracks a smile, welcoming the challenger’s attack. With his arms outstretched like he’s looking for a grapple, Williams inches his way towards the champion, who is also wiggling his fingers out in front of him. After some hesitation on Danny’s part, the two grapplers lunge forward in a second tie up! But Drazon has other plans, catching Williams by surprise with a nasty kick to the knee!

Thump!

“Dah!” cries Williams as the pain locks his leg up, leaving him at Drazon’s mercy. In a flash, Drazon brings his leg around for a second kick, that connects squarely with Williams’ forehead!

CRACK!

The next thing Williams knows, he’s on his back! Drazon triumphantly raises his fists into the air, celebrating his early victory.

Stevens: And down goes the challenger!

Riley: Williams may have shook off Ced’s kick on Storm, but he isn’t going to shake off one of Drazon’s!

Not even remembering being hit, Williams sits up in a blank stare for a few seconds before making a clumsy attempt at climbing back to his feet. Once Williams is up, he starts staggering sideways like someone who just got off a roller coaster.

Stevens: He’s out on his feet!

Acting on instinct, Williams stops, drops, and rolls to the sanctuary of the floor. Soapdish starts to count Danny out, while Drazon screams taunts down at Williams like.....

“Come on you pussy, get your ass back in here!”

The crowd gives a predictable harsh reaction to Drazon, in other words they “boo” the living shit out of him. After taking some time to shake the cobwebs lose, Williams climbs back on the apron...

SMACK!

Drazon swings his leg under the second rope, kicking Williams directly in the chest as he tries to stand up on the apron! Despite his chest feeling like it’s on fire , Williams ignores the pain and stands up anyway.

SMACK!

Drazon swings his leg over the second rope, burning Danny’s chest with another Roundhouse Kick, leaving him stunned and vulnerable on the apron!

CRACK! CLANK!

Williams drops off the apron, crashing into the guardrail, courtesy of a Drazon right cross! With Williams sitting on the floor in a stupor, Drazon resumes his profane taunts, letting everybody know who’s running the show.

Stevens: It seems that Drazon is hell bent on keeping Williams on the outside, perhaps he is reminding Danny that he’s the champion, and that if he wants his title he’s gonna have to come and get it.

Riley: Williams also has that count out to watch for, something that Drazon is immune too, since he’s the Champion and all.

Rather than show their contempt for Drazon’s un-sportsmen like attitude, the crowd gets a better idea, showing their support for Williams.....

“DAN-E!” BOOM! BOOM! “DAN-E!” BOOM! BOOM!

The cheer picks up momentum as Williams begins to pull himself up with the guardrail. Taking notice, Drazon jogs backwards to the far side of the ring, not taking his eyes off Williams. Once Danny gets on his feet and pops his jaw a few times, he looks into the ring to find Drazon diving threw the ropes at him like a human torpedo.....

Stevens: TOPAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

Drazon spears Williams in the stomach, landing safely on his feet, while the momentum knocks Danny back into the guardrail, where he sinks to the floor like a deflated balloon!

Stevens: Drazon, using his own body as a weapon with a beautiful tope! He must be feeling very confident if he’s gonna take big risks like that, this early in the match. .

Riley: Well, it paid off didn’t it? Apparently, Drazon has a good reason to be confident, he’s kicking Williams’ ass all over the place.

Williams is coughing and gaging like he’s going to puke, but Drazon isn’t going to give him the chance. The Champion yanks Williams up by his wrist, and whips him into the guardrail with authority!

CLANK!

But to Drazon’s surprise, Williams ricochets back off the iron barrier as if it was ring ropes, drawing back his arm for what is sure to be a big Elbow Smash....

Riley: Da Hell?

Just as Williams gets in range, he dramatically collapses at Drazon’s feet, holding his lower back and grunting. Disappointed, the fans let out an enormous collective sigh.

Stevens: Williams was attempting to force a come back, but his body just wouldn’t let him. Remember, when Mak Francis got the early advantage on Williams in their second meeting for the United States Title, Danny had to fight through the pain, and come off the guardrail with a Running Elbow in order to kill the Franchise’s momentum and take the advantage back......

Riley: But that isn’t happening tonight, Stevens! Not even Williams’ will to win can overcome Drazon’s ruthless, hard hitting offense.

Wearing a snug smile, Drazon confidently drags Williams up, and takes hold of his wrist. With no regard for Danny’s safety or SWF property, Drazon sends the challenger crashing into the steel steps!

BOOOOOOM!

While the front roll fans gasp at the horror he created, Drazon rolls half way back into the ring to restart the count, giving him ten more seconds to abuse Williams on the outside. Not wasting a precious second, Drazon digs underneath the ring like a kid in a toy chest, finding a shiny, new, steal chair! Upon seeing this, Soapdish begins screaming warnings at Drazon, but they fall on deaf’s ears. Drazon turns to Williams, who is straining to climb to his hands and knees, and raises the chair over his head!

SMACK!

With bad intentions, Drazon slams the chair across Danny’s back!

“Oooooooooooooooooooh!”

With an impression of the chair left on his back, Williams drops back to the floor in agonizing pain. Having no mercy for the challenger, Drazon raises the chair over his head, and breaks it over Danny’s back!

SMACK!

The crowd doesn’t take too kindly to this unprovoked brutality, especially in a match that isn’t supposed to be hardcore.

“Booooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!”

Soapdish sticks his head through the ropes, and commands that Drazon put the chair down and get back in the ring. Feeling he’s already gotten away with enough, Drazon tosses the badly dented chair aside, and rolls back into the ring, leaving Williams battered and bruised on the floor.

Riley: Ah come on, Soapdish, let the guy have some fun!

Stevens: Back in February, Williams used a steel chair on Mak Francis in a desperate attempt to keep control of the match. Tonight, Drazon is using a steel chair on Williams not out of desperation, but out of pure sadism.

Riley: Desperation, sadism, what’s the difference? The end result is the same, an ass fu-I mean ass kicking good time!

While Drazon boasts to the crowd, Soapdish half heartedly starts to count Williams out.

“One!”

“Two!”

Not wanting the match to end like this, the crowd restarts their chant at in even more feverish pitch than before......

“DAN-E!” BOOM! BOOM! “DAN-E!” BOOM! BOOM!

“Three!”

Wincing in pain with every movement, Williams slowly but surely pulls himself up with the guardrail, and begins staggering towards the ring apron

“Four!”

“Five!”

“Six!”

Standing tall in the center of the ring, Drazon stares down at Williams, daring him to get back in the ring. Williams pauses for a few seconds, perhaps out of fear, however he bravely rolls back into the ring without giving it another thought.

Stevens: Despite being assaulted with a steel chair, Williams is gonna continue the match!

Riley: Oh, enough with the melodrama. So he got hit with a chair a couple of times, big fucking deal!

Drazon anxiously helps Williams to his feet, and walks him away from the ropes. Suddenly, Williams swats Drazon’s arms off his shoulders, and catches him with a surprise Elbow Smash to the delight of the fans!

Crack!

Not giving Williams a chance to build off the elbow, Drazon immediately returns fire with a jaw shattering right hook!

Crack!

Williams staggers back a few steps, but somehow comes right back with another big Elbow Smash!

Crack!

Drazon wobbles ever so slightly, but to Danny’s disappointment, he still manages to get off a brain rattling haymaker!

Crack!

Williams’ knees give out, sending him plummeting to the mat like a K.O.ed boxer! The crowd quiets down, while Drazon takes the opportunity to shake out his sore punching hand, but in a flash, Williams is back up! The crowd erupts as Williams catches Drazon off guard with a flurry of quick, hard, elbows!

Crack! Crack! Crack!

For the first time in the match, Drazon appears hurt, giving Williams all the encouragement he needs to attempt his most reliable weapon! Williams takes a big step back, and spins forward.....

Stevens: HE’S GOING FOR THE ROLLING ELBOW!

Williams puts everything he has behind it....

Swooooooosh

but it’s ducked! A bit dizzy, Williams twirls back around to find Drazon waiting for him! With his feet planted in a picture perfect punching position, Drazon launches what is sure to be a lethal right cross.....

Riley: It looks like it’s lights out for Danny Williams!

Stevens: This is the same counter punch that permanently turned the tide for J.D. in their ladder match a couple of weeks ago!

Having seen this before, Williams gets his left arm up, blocking the punch! Without a second to lose, Williams spins in place, firing another.....

Stevens: ROLLING ELBOW!

Not having enough time to duck, JD desperately crosses his arms in front of his face, shielding himself from Williams’ meaty forearm! Taking advantage of the close quarters, Drazon quickly clamps his hands around the back of Williams’ neck, draws his head back and....

CRACK!

slams his cranium into Williams’ face, sending the challenger back to the canvas!

Stevens: HEADBUTT!

Riley: GOOD GOD, WHAT A HEADBUTT!

Still feeling the effects of Danny’s elbows, Drazon leans back into the ropes, holding the side of his face like he’s trying to push some swelling down.

Riley: What a strike exchange that was, that brought memories of Williams/Ecletic! God how I love Tom...I mean a good brawl!

Stevens: Williams was looking to land that Rolling Elbow, perhaps the most deadliest and reliable of all his strikes. Not only did it allow him to K.O. Ced Ordonez in under a minute, it gave Williams his sole victory over the longest reigning World Champion of all time, El Luchardore Magnifico, and put down the hard headed Kibagami for the three. In short, landing the Rolling Elbow may be Williams’ only hope for pulling off the upset.

Riley: Why didn’t you just say that in the first place, instead of making us set through a damn history lesson!

Suddenly, Williams lets out an inhuman growl reminiscent of a dying animal, catching the attention of the ICTV Champion. Acting as if every movement is a laborious task, Williams slowly forces himself to a vertical base as if he’s having to hold his own body at gun point in order to make it move! Drazon rolls his eyes, struts over to Williams, and drives him back down to the mat with another nasty Headbutt!

Crack!

Acting like he snapped his head so hard it gave him whiplash, Drazon painfully pops his neck a few times, drawing a few flinches from the fans. After cracking the stiffness out of his neck, Drazon leans down, and effortlessly helps Williams back up. Once again, Drazon links his hands around the back of his neck, and reels his head back for another Headbutt...

but before Drazon can snap his head forward, Williams swipes his hands off, and pops him with an elbow!

Crack!

Snarling more out of annoyance than out of pain, Drazon balls up his fist, and takes a big swing....

Swoooooooosh!

Williams ducks, letting Drazon spin out of control! Drazon frantically twirls back towards Williams, only to run right into another big Elbow Smash!

Crack!

The elbow leaves Drazon momentarily stunned, allowing Williams to drive him into the ropes with a flurry of mean spirited elbows!

Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!

Stevens: Williams, overwhelming the ICTV Champion with a relentless barrage of Elbow Smashes!

Having knocked Drazon’s brain off the walls of his skull like it was a ping pong ball, Williams takes hold of his wrist, and shoots him off the ropes! Drazon bounces back at Williams against his will, running right into a Reverse Elbow Smash!

Smack!

The elbow connects sharply with his chest, knocking Drazon to the mat with a thud! Unable to hold back the effects of Drazon’s strikes anymore, a grimacing Danny Williams doubles over with one hand rested on his knee, the other rubbing his forehead.

Riley: It seems as if that concussion is acting up again.

Stevens: Not likely, Riley. Danny was cleared by the doctors last week. Still he had to absorb an awful lot of punishment in order to take control of the match, and we all know that once you’ve had a concussion you do become receptive to more head injuries.

As quickly as the episode came, it passes, allowing Williams to go back to work. Williams jerks Drazon to his feet, and sends him back to the mat with a thunderous Scoop Slam! With Drazon laid out on his back, Williams draws back his big white boot, and starts viciously slamming it into his side with disturbingly stiff punts!

Smack! Smack! Smack!

As if the kicks had no effect, Drazon pops right back up, and smiles at Williams.

Stevens: This doesn’t look good for the challenger!

Riley: Williams cannot just punt J.D. around like he’s some young punk, it’s gonna take a lot more than a few painful kicks to keep a hardened badass like him down. This guy has had his ass kicked by everybody over the past couple of years, does Williams really think there’s anything he can do to him, that hasn’t been done before?

Stevens: That’s a good question, and if Williams wants to win, he’s gonna have to answer it.

Despite looking unnerved and puzzled at J.D.’s immunity to his normally effective kicks, Williams continues the attack, frantically kicking away at Drazon’s knee like his life depends on it!

Smack! Smack!

Instead of crumbling to the mat like Williams’ hoped, Drazon starts firing back with kicks of his own! Williams cries out in anguish as each kick stiffly connects behind his knee!

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

The sound of these dangerously hard kicks shocks the hell out of the fans, many of which are watching with their hands covering their mouths as if they are being forced to bear witness to an unspeakable atrocity. Danny tries to hobble away from the crippling kicks, but Drazon follows him where ever he goes, continuing to kick at his knee until he finally flops on his ass! Standing to the side of the seated challenger, Drazon starts punting away at Williams’ vulnerable back with UBER STIFF kicks!

SMACK! SMACK!

Looking to escape this hellish predicament, Williams urgently scrambles back to his feet, but no relief is to be found. Drazon sticks to Williams like glue, blasting his lower back with nasty Roundhouse Kicks!

SMACK! SMACK!

Drazon smoothly switches his pivot foot in order to slam a blistering kick into Williams’ chest!

SMACK!

The wind knocked out of him, the red chested challenger freezes in place allowing Drazon to whack the back of his head with a high Roundhouse Kick!

CRACK!

The grotesque sound of boot against skull draws a disgusted response from the already ill fans. Glassy eyed with his mouth lifelessly hanging open, Williams drops to his knees in a daze.

Riley: Williams is out and he doesn’t even know it!

With zero hesitation, Drazon draws back his leg, and slams the arch of his boot directly into Williams’ kisser!

POP!

Williams brings his hands to his busted mouth, before lifelessly flopping face first to the mat!

Stevens: OH MY GOD!

Like a boxer celebrating a knock out, Drazon dances back to a neutral corner with his hands victoriously raised over his head, drawing a very negative reaction from the crowd.

Riley: Hopefully, Williams has learnt a valuable lesson, don’t get into a punting contest with J.D.!

Stevens: Indeed, J.D. has a very respectable background in Thai Kickboxing that he is wisely exploiting to the fullest.

With a blank expression on his face, Williams blindly feels for the mat as if his sense of balance is completely gone. Unable to get up on his own, Williams crawls to the ropes, and with their assistance, he starts his long, painful journey to a vertical base. No longer celebrating, Drazon drops his arms, and looks at Williams with what one could almost mistake for pity. Resuming his kick boxing stance, J.D. bounces over to the Williams, and begins cruelly punting his back as he tries to stand up!

SMACK!

Williams fights through the pain, successfully pulling himself all the way up. Williams turns around to face his tormentor, who in turn, lays a stiff kick across his chest!

SMACK!

J.D. follows it up with another brutal Roundhouse Kick, however this one finds it’s mark not against Williams’ chest, but with his jaw!

CRACK!

As if he just took a gun shot to the head, Williams limply falls forward, landing face down on the mat!

Stevens: AND DANNY WILLIAMS IS OUT COLD!

Riley: THAT’S IT, THIS MATCH IS OVER! I don’t see Danny getting up from that, no way in hell!

The crowd reacts as if they saw someone get shot in the head, some kids cry, some women scream in terror, and some drunks cheer. Even Soapdish turns away in disgust, shaking his head, unable to believe what he just saw and heard actually happened. The repulsed crowd watches on in silence as J.D. rolls Williams’ corpse over, and lays on top of him with a lackluster pin attempt.

ONE!

TWO!

Without warning, Drazon pulls Williams’ head up, and waves his finger to the crowd. Left with no other option, Soapdish ceases the count, and gives Drazon. a dirty look.

“Boooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!”

Riley: Ha, ha! This match ends when J.D. says it ends.

Stevens: I know Drazon said that he not only wanted to defeat Danny but take him out for good, but I didn’t think he would really try it. This is beyond disgusting, it’s straight up evil.

Riley: Which is why J.D. is gonna be the Champion for a very long time, Stevens.

J.D. gets back on his feet, and shouts down at Williams, “Get the fuck up, I an’t through with your ass!”

It isn’t long before Williams begins to stir, he drowsily raises his head up like someone who’s just woken up in the morning, prompting Drazon to get back in his kicking stance. Grinning from ear to ear, Drazon tauntingly flicks his boot in Williams’ face over and over again, while the crowd rains a monsoon of “boos” and jeers down on the ring. Trying to ignore the irritating kicks, Williams attempts to sluggishly climb back to his feet. Drazon takes a few steps back ,waits for Williams to get to one knee, and than....

CRACK!

kicks him in the jaw, yet again!

Riley: HE KICKED HIM AGAIN! DID YOU SEE THAT? HE KICKED HIM AGAIN!

Stevens: NOW THIS HAS GONE ON TOO FAR, HE’S GONNA KILL HIM FOR GOD’S SAKES!

For the second time tonight, Williams goes completely limp in route to the canvas. The enraged fans jump out of their seats, shouting curses at J.D. and words of encouragement at Danny. Drazon coldly walks away from the crime scene, while a very concerned Nick Soapdish kneels down beside Williams, checking his pulse to make sure he survived the vicious strike. Sensing that he needs their support, the worried fans begin a frenzied chant....

“DAN-E!” BOOM! BOOM! “DAN-E!”

With one hand on his hip, the other supporting his chin, Drazon patiently waits in the corner.

Stevens: To further disrespect Danny Williams, Drazon is gonna give him all the time he needs to recover as if to say it doesn’t matter he’s still can gonna get his ass kicked when he gets up.

The chant continuously increases in volume making it seem as if everyone in the arena is starting to join in. Finally, Williams begins to blink his eyes, slowly opening them as if the light hurts them. Squinting to protect his dilated pupils from the house lights, Williams stiffly sits up like someone who has just woken up from a very long slumber. The crowd ceases to chant, opting to erupt into a standing ovation.

Stevens: Danny’s up? THE CHALLENGER IS UP, THE MATCH IS GONNA CONTINUE!

Knowing all along that Williams would get up, Drazon struts out of the corner, anxiously taking position in the center of the ring as if he can’t wait to start kicking the shit out of the challenger again. Despite every muscle in his body trembling with pain, Williams pushes his way to his feet, he wobbles a little, but he manages to maintain his balance. The standing ovation continues, growing louder and louder with each passing second.

Riley: If Williams knew what was good for him he’d stay down, the last time he pulled this Cool Hand Luke crap against Drazon, he ended up on the injured list for month.

Stevens: Still you have to respect Danny Williams’ bravery. He knows what Drazon’s intentions are, yet he is still gonna give it his all and continue to fight.

Williams staggers his way to the center of the ring, barely able to hold his arms up enough to even defend himself let alone pose a threat. Drazon eyes the battered challenger up with a look on his face that says ”is this suppose to be a joke”.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

Without even needing to get in his attacking stance, Drazon effortlessly sends Williams crumbling to the mat with three lighting quick kicks to the knee, chest, and neck! The disappointed fans finally stop the ovation, sinking back to their seats with a sigh.

Riley: J.D., picking up right where he left off. He is just toying with Danny Williams, repeatedly letting him up only to knock him back down.

Drazon guides Williams back to his feet, takes a few steps back, and spins around, thrusting his right leg out for a big kick....

Stevens: SPIN KICK!

that is caught! Not even giving Drazon the chance to bounce around on his free leg, Williams releases the captured limb, and shuffles his feet into a clock wise spin....

CRACK!

clocking Drazon in the temple with a nasty Reverse Elbow! The surprised fans give an enormous pop as Drazon turns his back to Williams, wandering away with his hand covering his battered temple! Not letting the Champion get away, Williams bursts forward, clubbing Drazon in the back of the neck with a vertebra shattering Lariat!

SMACK!

Both men go down, and the screaming fans jump out of their seats with their arms raised in celebration!

Stevens: BIG ENZUI LARIAT! For the first time tonight, Danny Williams has floored the Champion, and maybe just maybe, this match won’t be the one sided massacre that J.D. hoped for!

Riley: Just a minor set back, nothing to get excited about.

The crowd continues to joyously hoot and holler while Williams rolls to the ropes, and pulls himself up. By this time, J.D. has also climbed back to his feet, holding the back of his neck and grimacing. Suddenly, Williams bursts off the ropes......

SMACK!

decapitating Drazon with a sickening Western Lariat! Williams collapses to his hands and knees, and frantically scrambles on top of J.D. for the pin!

Stevens: HERE’S THE COVER!

Screaming at the top of their lungs, the fans shout along with Soapdish’s count!

“ONE!”

“TW-OOOOOOOOOOOH!”, moans the fans as Drazon kicks out!

Stevens: Not even a two, you’ve got to be kidding?

Riley: Don’t act show shocked, Stevens. After all the crazy shit this guys survived in the hardcore division, a clothesline probably feels like a smack to the face.

Still sore, Williams gingerly stands up, and hobbles his way out on to the ring apron. The fans remain standing, overly excited about the high spot that cometh.

Riley: Now where the hell does he think he’s going?

Stevens: I guess Williams decided it wouldn’t be a good idea to go toe to toe with Drazon again, so he’s gonna take the high road instead.

Wincing all the way to the top, Williams nervously makes his way to the last turnbuckle, and very carefully balances himself on the top rope. In almost no time at all, Drazon is back on his feet, way sooner than Williams expected! Looking unsure of himself, Williams hesitates to jump giving Drazon the split second he needs to gather his senses! Drazon spots the vulnerable challenger perched like a sitting duck, leaving Williams no other choice but to follow through with his original plan. This eyes wide with terror, Danny Williams takes a deep breath, and dives face first off the top rope for the......

Stevens: DIVING ELBOW!

As the ground and J.D. draws closer, Williams bings up his arm for an elbow....

SMACK!

but Drazon brings his leg up, catching Williams in mid air with a Roundhouse Kick to the gut!

“Oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooh!”

Williams spasms around on the mat, coughing and gagging like he’s can’t breathe. Still busted up from the Lariats, Drazon leans against the ropes for a few moments, rubbing his throat like it hurts when he swallows. Angry that he let himself get hit with desperation lariats, Drazon yanks out his pony tail to show that he means business, and starts violently tugging on the ropes like he’s been possessed by the Ultimate Warrior.

Riley: Well I’d say that back fired, if Drazon raised his leg a single second sooner, Williams would find himself with more than just another concussion, he’d probably be dead.

Stevens: Just when it seemed that Williams may string some offense together, J.D. brought it to a grinding halt.

His tantrum over, Drazon turns off the ropes, finding Williams climbing up to a single knee. Not letting this opportunity go to waste, Drazon gives a thumbs down to the crowd to let them know that the match over.

Riley: One again, J.D. is demonstrating his total control over of the match by letting everyone know that its gonna end because he wants it to.

Stevens: I guess Williams’ little offensive burst has made J.D. realize he’s too risky to keep hanging around.

With a ferocious battle cry, Drazon rockets off the ropes, steps up on Williams’ knee, and shoots his other leg up for the Yakuza Kick....

Stevens: SHINING BLAAAAAAAAAAA-NO!

Williams brings his arms up in the nick of time, blocking the boot that was meant for his face! Drazon ricochets off Williams’ arms, twists around in mid air as if he landed the Yakuza Kick, and belly flops on the mat. The impact knocks Williams back to the mat, where he lays cramping and sore. Frustrated, Drazon pounds his fist into the mat, hurries back to his feet, and stomps his way over to Williams, who is just now struggling to his feet. Drazon squats down on the mat like he’s attempting a jump shot, leaps damn near three feet into the air, spins around, and thrusts his leg out for a......

Stevens: JUMPING SPIN KICK!

that is blocked! Drazon splats on the mat, while Williams floats back into the ropes! In an instant, Drazon returns to a vertical base with an athletic kip up.....

CRACK!

only to be decimated by a jaw shattering Rolling Elbow!

Stevens: HE HIT IT, DANNY FINALLY HIT THE ROLLING ELBOW! This is the momentum shifter that Danny Williams has been looking for all night, can he capitalize in time, and finally take control of the match?

Drazon hits the mat so hard, the momentum rolls him out of the ring, and down to the floor! In obvious pain, Williams drops to his knees, clutching his stomach. The crowd goes absolutely crazy, encouraging Williams to get up and go after J.D. Soapdish begins to count J.D. out, who is lying lifelessly on the floor. It isn’t until Soapdish reaches “6", that J.D. starts to get back on his feet. Getting a crazy look in his eyes, Williams jogs backwards to the far side of the ring, while the fans rise out of their chairs and get their cameras ready. Once J.D. gets upright, Williams darts across the ring while thousands of cameras go off! Williams dives over the second rope....

CRACK!

and with the force of his entire body weight, drives an elbow into Drazon’s temple!

Stevens: ELBOW SUICIDA! ELBOW SUICIDAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

Williams lands gracefully on his feet, while Drazon slides down the guardrail, with a look on his face that says,”somebody had to get the license plate number of that fucking truck that just hit me.” Williams pulls Drazon up, and shoves him back into the ring for some more abuse. No longer looking scared, a pissed off Danny Williams hops up on to the ring apron, but instead of going after J.D., he sets his sight on the ring post. Still standing, the fans start jumping up and down with excitement as Williams scales the turnbuckles, perching on the top rope for the second time tonight.

Riley: Some people just don’t learn from their mistakes.

Stevens: In order to put Drazon away, Danny’s gonna have to take risks, there’s no way around it. This is a fact that Williams must realize, if he wants to take the title!

J.D. is up quick, but not quick enough! This time there is no hesitation as Williams bravely takes the plunge, crashing into Drazon with a brutal Diving Elbow that would make a Terminator shed tears!

CRACK!

Having completed his task, Williams crash lands on the mat, while the impact folds Drazon’s legs over his head! Williams takes a few moments to collect himself, before frantically leaning over Drazon’s broken body for the pin! Once more, the hopeful in attendance, screech along with Soapdish’s count!

“ONE!”

“TWO!”

Drazon forcefully rolls out from underneath Williams before Soapdish can even raise his hand for the three count!

Riley: Damn, Williams took two risky dives and it was barely enough for a two.

Stevens: At least it was a two count this time.

Looking miserable, Williams stands up with a sigh. As disappointed as Williams, the fans replant themselves in their seats. After some careful pondering, Williams pats his elbow, and leans back into the ropes. Almost as quickly as they set down, the fans pop back out of their chairs in excitement!

Stevens: It looks like Williams is gonna go for the Rolling Elbow again! For the first time tonight, victory seems possible for Danny Williams.

Riley: Drazon needs to kill Danny’s momentum, and fast, he’s letting this match slip right out of hands!

Williams waits for Drazon to get up, and than spins forward.....

Stevens: HERE IT COMES!

but Drazon gets his boot up, catching Williams in his extended arm! Danny cries out in pain, but he sucks it up, and spins again, firing another Rolling Elbow....

Stevens: HE’S GOING FOR IT AGAIN!

but Drazon hits the deck, tripping Williams up with a drop toe hold! Acting fast, Drazon quickly grabs hold of Danny’s fear right arm, and extends it into a Fujiwara Armbar! Williams lets out a blood curdling scream as the Drazon threatens to tear the tendons his arm. The fans remain standing, preying that Danny can escape the hold in time!

Riley: Very smart move by J.D., wisely slapping a submission hold on that elbow arm!

Stevens: Indeed, J.D. knew that Williams was hell bent on landing that Rolling Elbow, and that if he stayed at a vertical base like Ced, he would end up getting clobbered sooner or later. So unlike Ced, Drazon is gonna take Williams to mat and try to get the submission.

Refusing to tap, Williams rolls forward, slipping his arm out of Drazon’s clutches! In a flash, Williams brings his legs up, hooking them around Drazon’s head in a scissor hold! Drazon attempts to pry Williams’ tree trunk legs off his throat, but Danny powers him down on his back to fully lock on the head scissors. Drazon thrashes his legs about trying to escape with a kip up, but it’s no use, Danny has the head scissors locked on tightly and perfectly. With stealth like movements, Williams suddenly pulls his bottom leg out from underneath Drazon’s head, and slings it across the champion’s chest, scissoring his shoulder!

Riley: NO WAY!

The fans blow the roof off the building as Williams sits up, and takes hold of Drazon’s wrist!

Stevens: IN AN UNBELIEVABLE DISPLAY OF COUNTER WRESTLING, DANNY WILLIAMS HAS REVERSED THE FUJIWARA ARMBAR INTO A JUJI-GATAME!

Drazon links his hands together in a guard, preventing Williams from falling back and straightening his arm out!

Riley: Not quite yet, Stevens, J.D.’s blocking it!

Stevens: But all Danny Williams has to do is pry J.D.’s fingers apart, and the ICTV CHAMPIONSHIP IS AS GOOD AS HIS!

Williams tugs and pulls, but Drazon refuses to budge, so Williams starts kicking at him arm trying to break his hands apart! Taking full advantage of the absence of the leg grapevine, Drazon rolls over on top of Williams, planting his knee on the challenger’s throat! J.D. takes a couple of seconds to choke Williams out, before taking hold of his right wrist, and dropping back into a Cross Armbreaker of his own! Williams screams in anguish, thrashing his legs about, trying to find the ropes before Drazon can snap his arm in half!

Stevens: JUJI-GATAME! JUJI-GATAME! DRAZON’S TURNED DANNY’S WILLIAMS OWN WEAPON AGAINST HIM!

Riley: JUST LIKE MAK FRANCIS!

Stevens: INDEED, DANNY WILLIAMS HAS TAPPED TO HIS OWN HOLD BEFORE, AND IF HE CAN’T MAKE THE ROPES, THAT WILL BE THE CASE ONCE AGAIN!

Drazon begins sitting up, and falling back, jerking Williams’ arm out of the socket over and over again just as Mak Francis did a few months ago! Their hearts in their mouths, the terrified fans watch on, praying that this isn’t the end! The pain is so intense that Williams’ eyes begin to water, but still he holds on, even as the tendons in his arm begin to rip like a piece of cloth, he hangs on, inching his way to the ropes, until finally, he drapes a boot over the bottom rope!

Stevens: HE MADE THE ROPES! DANNY MADE THE ROPES!

Drazon has no intentions of breaking right away, keeping the hold applied, prompting Soapdish to administer a three count. Drazon mockingly counts along with the official while pulling back with all his might on Danny’s arm, getting the most out of his three seconds!

“O.k., break!” commands Soapdish after finishing the count! For what seems like an eternity from Williams’ view point, Drazon reluctantly releases the arm, and back rolls to his feet. Williams sits up, tucking his badly damaged striking arm into his chest, doing his best to shield it from the inevitable assault.

Stevens: Finally, Danny is free from the imprisonment of that absolutely tortuous submission hold. But still, one has to wonder how much damage was done to that arm! The elbows was Danny Williams’ only chance for pulling off the upset, and now his most dependable weapon may have been taking out of the equation.

Riley: Everything Danny Williams has tried, has failed. He can’t out brawl J.D., he can’t out wrestle J.D., there is simply nothing he can do but delay the inevitable and suffer career threatening injuries in the process!

SMACK! SMACK!

Drazon sadistically punts the seated challenger’s arm, sending surges of pain from his shoulder all the way to his finger tips. Once again, looking confident and strong, Drazon drags Williams up by his bad arm, and walks him away from the ropes. Drazon twists Williams arm over his shoulder, and snaps it across his shoulder with a grotesque Arm Breaker! Drazon turns around, expecting to find Williams cowering in pain, instead he finds the challenger spinning at him like a ballerina of death....

CRACK!

Drazon hits the mat like a sack of very heavy bricks, while Williams collapses in anguish, clutching his elbow and screaming! The shocked fans jump out of their seats, giving an ear shattering ovation!

Stevens: ROLLING ELBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW!

Riley: Shit, I guess that arm wasn’t as injured as we thought it was!

Stevens: Make no mistake, Riley, Danny’s hurt, he’s hurt bad. However, Danny didn’t hold anything back on that elbow, he just sucked it up, and with no regard for his own health, swung as hard as he could!

Battling off indescribable pain, Williams slowly crawls his way over to the ICTV Champion, while the fans urge him to hurry up and pick up the pace! Keeping his bad arm tucked into his chest, Williams covers Drazon with an inverted lateral press, so he can hook the leg with his good arm!

Stevens: HERE’S THE COVER! THROUGH RAW DETERMINATION, DANNY WILLIAMS MAY HAVE JUST PULLED OFF THE BIGGEST VICTORY OF HIS CAREER!

The super hot crowd eagerly counts along with Nick Soapdish!

“ONE!”

“TWO!”

......

“THREE!”

NO! The crowd lets out a monstrous collective groan as Drazon shoots a shoulder up a millisecond before he was to be dethroned!

Riley: HE KICKED OUT! DRAZON HAS JUST KICKED OUT OF THE ROLLING ELBOW!

Stevens: WHAT WILL IT TAKE TO KEEP THAT MAN DOWN?

Riley: I don’t know, and apparently neither does Danny Williams.

Looking more determined than ever, Williams rushes to his feet, and jogs to the nearest corner. Williams shakes his arm out a little, and to the shock of the fans, pats his elbow yet again! His eyes locked on the champion, Williams plants his boot out in front of him like a racer at the starting line. The arena becomes filled with the sound of rabid foot stomping as Drazon sluggishly makes his way to a vertical base, clueless to Danny Williams’ master plan. Once Drazon is up, Williams dashes out of the corner, extending his arm for the.....

Stevens: RUNNING ELBOW!

that is blocked! Drazon blows back into the ropes from the momentum, while Danny drops to a single knee, clutching his arm and grimacing! Suddenly, Drazon explodes off the ropes, steps up on Danny’s knee, and stuff his boot in his face!

CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!

Williams drops back to the mat, his eyes closed and his mouth lifelessly hanging open like that of a corpses’, while Drazon twists around, and flops on his stomach!

Stevens: SHINING BLACK! SHINING BLACK! SHINING BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!

Riley: I guess that arm work paid off after all, eh Stevens!

Drazon raises his head up, looking around the arena like he doesn’t know where he’s at. He eventually shakes the cobwebs loose, spotting Williams’ carcass laying in front of him. On his forearms, Drazon crawls over to Williams’ body, and drapes an arm over his chest for the pin!

Stevens: AND DANNY WILLIAMS QUEST FOR THE ICTV CHAMPIONSHIP HAS ONCE AGAIN ENDED IN TRAGEDY!

ONE!

TWO!

TWO1/2...

TWO3/4.....

THREE!

NO! Williams shoots a shoulder up, sending the crowd into a riot!

Stevens: DANNY KICKED OUT, INCREDIBLE FIGHTING SPIRIT FROM THE CHALLENGER!

Riley: Drazon sure took his damn time in covering him, if he was a few seconds faster, this match would have been over!

Stevens: Give the guy a break, Riley, after all he only just took a Rolling Elbow flush on the jaw.

Since Williams isn’t gonna get up anytime soon, Drazon takes his time in getting back to his feet, wanting to be well rested for another offensive burst. Wishing that he hadn’t undone his pony tail, Drazon wipes his long sweaty bangs out of his face, so that he can clearly look down at Williams with his glaring hate filled eyes. By this time, Williams is starting to stir, so Drazon takes the initiative and helps him to his feet for some more punishment, but in predictable fashion, Danny fires off an elbow once he’s up right...

Swooosh!

that’s ducked! Drazon smoothly comes back with a slick Reverse Spin Kick....

CRACK!

that leaves the challenger reeling! With Danny stunned, Drazon leaps high into the air like Jean Claude Van Dame, performs a dazzling 360 spin, and thrusts his flexible leg straight out......

CRACK!

slamming his boot into the side of Danny’s face, nearly knocking his head clean off!

Riley: WOW!

Stevens: THAI ROUNDHOUSE KICK, THAI ROUNDHOUSE KICK!

Williams crumbles to the mat in a cloud of sweat, while Drazon lands safely on his feet. Drazon drops down on top of Williams, tightly hooking his legs for the pin! The jeers of the fans nearly drowns out Soapdish’s count!

ONE!

TWO!

TWO1/2....

TWO3/4...

THREE!

NO! Williams wiggles a shoulder up to the shock and disbelief of everyone in the building! Drazon angrily jumps to his feet, spitting and cursing, unable to comprehend why Williams’ won’t stay down. Though he’s on the war path about the kick out, it’s obvious that Drazon is emotionally and physically drained from the toll of the match.

Stevens: Just like in his match against Fugue, Williams resilience is making it very difficult for Drazon to keep the adrenaline going..

Riley: The same rage fueled adrenaline that drives him to win, if he loses that, it may be very difficult for him to summon enough energy to end the match!

Drazon rolls the barely conscious challenger over on his stomach, takes a handful of tights, and pulls him up on his knees. Constantly wiping his bangs out of his eyes, an irritated Drazon marches over to the far ropes, where he not so patiently waits for Danny to get the rest of the way up. Knowing what’s coming, the fans rise out of their seats, frantically shouting warnings at the challenger.

Stevens: He’s going for the SHINING BLACK AGAIN!

Riley: If he can land a second one, it doesn’t matter how much time it takes for Drazon to make the cover, Danny still won’t be kicking out!

His eyes glazed over like a freshly backed doughnut, Williams blindly rises up to one knee in a trance like state, signaling for Drazon to launches himself off the ropes! Drazon speeds ahead at his target like a runaway train going down hill........

CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!

running right into a Danny Williams’ High Kick!

Stevens: THE BOOT, THE BOOOOOOOOOOOOOT!

Drazon’s head snaps back so hard it nearly tears away from his neck as he plummets to the mat, while Williams drops back to his knees, still not looking fully aware of his surroundings. The crowd combusts with an earth shattering applause! Danny rests on his knees like a boxer waiting for an eight count, before standing back up, however, his balance is not fully restored causing him to stagger backwards on the heels of his boots into a nearby corner, where he flops hard on his ass.

Stevens: Oh my, Danny still can’t seem to feel the mat....

Riley: And would you look at that, Drazon is already starting to get back up!

True to Riley’s words, the woozy challenger is vigorously making his way back to a vertical base! Upon seeing this, Williams begins wildly dragging himself up with the ropes, knowing that his one foot race he has to win! In spite of Williams’ best efforts, Drazon is up first, yet he goes right back down to the delight of the fans. This gives Williams the edge he needs, as he heroically makes it back to his feet to a standing ovation. Although he had to start over, Drazon is back up in no time at all, but by this time, Williams is sprinting out of the corner at him! Once he gets within a few feet of Drazon, Williams takes off like Michael Jordan at the free throw line, extending his leg for the.....

Stevens: DYNAMIC KICK!

that connects squarely with J.D.’s forehead!

CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!

Drazon is left flat on his back, allowing Williams to collapse on him for the exhausted pin attempt!

Stevens: DRAZON MAY HAVE TAKING OUT THE ARM, BUT HE FORGOT ABOUT THE LEG, TRUE CHAMPIONS ALWAYS FIND A WAY TO WIN!

“ONE!”

“TWO!”

......

“THREE!”

NO! Drazon somehow wiggles a shoulder up in the nick of time! Refusing to accept this, Williams locks fingers with Drazon, and shoves his shoulders back down with a Greco Roman Knuckle Lock! Soapdish restarts the count, but the disappointed fans don’t count along this time....

ONE!

TWO!

TWO1/2....

J.D. escapes with a surprisingly strong kick out!

Riley; Williams can cover him and recover him all he wants, the Dynamic Kick, though really cool and brutal, is not enough to keep J.D. down!

Stevens: Your right, Riley. Danny doesn’t want to use the elbow again, but if he wants the title, if he wants to be the ICTV Champion, he’s gonna have to endure hardship and personal sacrifice, and if the arm is what he’s gonna have to sacrifice than so be it. Williams’ desire to win is gonna have to be strong enough to over come the pain and his fear of injury.

Williams looks down at his sore elbow with contempt, knowing what he has to do. Williams takes a long, deep breath, and with a sense of purpose that J.D. lacked, marches into the furthest corner, and waits. Not even bother to pat his elbow this time, Williams watches and waits, as J.D. begins the difficult task of returning to his feet. With J.D. at a vertical base, Williams rockets out of the corner like a bat out of hell, swinging his arm for the knockout elbow.....

Swoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooosh!

Drazon ducks, so Williams puts the breaks on, and spins around to be meet with a Reverse Spin Kick.....

but Danny catches his boot, leaving Drazon helplessly bouncing around on one foot! Not as helpless as Danny hoped, as Drazon acrobatically flips around, catching Williams in the back of the skull with a nasty Enzugiri!

CRACK!

With all the grace of a drunk, Danny awkwardly stumbles back into the ropes, leaning against them for support. With a big smile on his face, Drazon casually climbs to his feet, eye balling the stunned challenger, plotting his next move, when suddenly, Danny explodes off the ropes......

CRAAAAAAAAAAAACK!

shattering Drazon’s jaw with a cringe inducing...

Stevens: RUNNING ELBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW!

No longer smiling, Drazon drops to his knees, and lifelessly flops face down on the mat not unlike Williams did earlier. Williams on the other hand is convulsing on the mat like a fish out of water, holding his elbow and clinching his teeth tightly together in order to hold back the numbing pain in his arm.

Riley: DRAZON IS OUT COLD, BUT WILLIAMS CAN’T MAKE THE COVER!

Unable to contain themselves, the fans tear the place down, damn near coming close to rioting. His skin turned a ghastly white like he’s about to pass out from pain, Williams slowly crawls over to Drazon, rolls his limp body over, and just lays on top of him with a lateral press!

Stevens: HE MADE IT, HERE’S THE COVER!

Riley: HOW CAN DRAZON STILL BE OUT, THIS IS IMPOSSIBLE!

The energized fans howl along with the count!

“ONE!”

“TWO!”

.....

“THREE!”

Soapdish calls for the bell, and the crowd literally explodes with a sonic blast of hoots, cheers, and howls!

Stevens: HE DONE IT! DANNY WILLIAMS HAS DONE IT! NEW CHAMPION! NEW CHAMPION! NEW CHAMPIOOOOOOOOOOON!!!

Riley: UNBELIEVABLE, JAMIE DRAZON HAS BEEN KNOCKED OUT!

Williams remains on top of Drazon, lifeless and unresponsive to the festivities. Soapdish squats down beside the pile of bodies, and rolls Williams over, who is glassy eyed and clearly out of it. Soapdish raises his good arm up to make the victory official, before calling in for some medics.

Funyon: The winner of the match by pinfall at 26 minutes and 32 seconds......AND NEW ICTV CHAMPION.........DANNY WILLIAMSsssssssssssss!!!

Williams is still down, and the crowd begins to chant, “DAN-E, DAN-E, DAN-E!”. Two medics enter the ring, and even Dace Night rushes on to the scene. The three of them manage to lift Williams off Drazon, and safely lay him down on the mat, where the two medics go to work while the worried rookie watches on. Drazon on the other hand sits up on his own, questioning Soapdish about the out come of the match. Hearing the news, Drazon slams his fist down and shouts, “Fuck!”

Riley: Drazon’s already up, how odd is that, the loser is actually in better shape than the winner.

Stevens: Overall, Williams did indeed take the most punishment. But despite being out wrestled, despite being out brawled, despite being dominated, his desire to win was unmatched, and that was enough to carry him through the final moments of the match and out last J.D.

Riley: Yeah, but he’s paying for it now.

Stevens: He might be, but whoever said that winning was easy.

After several tense moments, the medics get Williams up, he wobbles a few times but remains on his feet. His elbow heavily taped, his jaw severely swollen, Williams looks like someone who has just been to hell and back. Dace congratulates Williams, and assists him in holding ice on his jaw, since Danny’s arm is too fucked up to even do that. Soapdish fetches the title on the outside, but on his way back gets intercepted by Drazon. Drazon snatches the title from Soapdish, and makes his way over to Danny. The crowd grows silent as J.D. and Williams exchange cold stares, suddenly, J.D. puts the title in Danny’s hand to the delightful surprise of the fans. Williams accepts the title with a nod, and the crowd resumes its’ cheering.

Stevens: It seems that Danny Williams’ resilience has even won over his toughest critic.

Riley: I hope your not referring to me, Danny just scored a lucky knock out.

Together, Drazon and Dace lift Williams up on their shoulders! Keeping his bad arm tucked into his stomach, Williams raises the title high over his head like a flag, letting it flap in the air.

Riley: You better take a piss break while you can, because up next we got the return of the Suicide King!

May 5, 2003

As the roar of the crowd at the Pepsi Center in Denver, Colorado echoes through the building, the camera comes up on the open door of the Suicide King’s office. The camera holds the shot of King’s nameplate for a moment, then takes a step inside. King appears from behind his desk, dressed in his old wrestling attire as he stretches out his quads. He winces slightly as he grabs his toes and holds them for a few seconds. King’s grimace fades as he lifts himself into a standing position and looks down at his desk, looking at a picture on his desk. He then backhands the picture of himself and Michelle off the desk, sending it slamming into a wall. As the glass in the picture frame shatters, the phone rings. King immediately grabs the phone and brings it to his ear. “Hello? This better be worth my time!”

“Mr. Applewhite, your tag partner has arrived. Should I send him in?”

“First of all, tonight, it’s King. And yes, send him in. I need to make sure that he understands exactly what’s at stake tonight.” King slams the receiver down against the phone base, and looks up at the ceiling, pondering his upcoming match. “I swear, he better know what happens if he screws around. He’s been a drain on this company for a long time now. Time for him to show exactly what he’s made of. God knows Neilsen will be looking to humiliate me. He’s never been much of a title guy….that shit he pulled at From the Fire with Frost proved that. And god knows he’d love the chance to let Michelle pin me, and humiliate me WHILE getting a shot at me, one on one, at 13th Hour…I will NOT let that happen. I’ll be damned if some little hardcore punk that thinks he’s hot shit is gonna make me do anything. I am the Suicide King, and I make all the decisions worth making!”

King’s megalomaniacal ramblings are interrupted as he hears a knock at his door. He looks up, with the businesslike expression on his face saying everything. “It’s about time you got here. I’ve had enough trouble with you as it is. I still don’t believe you had the balls, not to mention the total stupidity, to think that you could get away with this. Well, it’s time for you to put up or shut up. If you want to remain a part of this organization, I suggest you go out there and destroy Neilsen and Michelle. But I get the pin! You understand? I need to get the pin! Now, do you have any questions?” King looks up as the camera pans over, revealing the Boston Strangler, with an annoyed look on his face, staring back at King and shaking his head ‘no’. King nods in approval as he grabs a bottle of water off his desk and heads toward the door. “We’re on next. Be there in two minutes. And don’t be late.” With that, King walks out the door, leaving the Boston Strangler alone in the Suicide King’s office.

Strangler looks around, staring at the pictures of King’s career highlights. He looks at one of King holding the IGNWF Championship the first time he won it in January of 2002, and of King celebrating the time that he forced Grand Slam out of the SWF. Strangler clenches his fist into a ball as he looks on at other career highlights of his tag partner for the night. He finally lowers his head, with defeat creeping across his slightly worn face. The wrinkles that weren’t there in September crease as he sadly gazes at the broken picture frame on the ground. “You know, that picture frame, it’s like my life” mutters Strangler to nobody in particular. “I was on top of the world. I was with the people I wanted to be with. I was happy. And then, one day, someone with more power than me decided that he was just gonna swoop on in and send my life careening over the edge, to send my life shattering into a million tiny pieces.”

Strangler stands up and stretches out, his arms reaching toward the sky. “In a way, it was a good thing for me…it was a chance to finally take back control of my own life. And I finally did have that chance. But what happens? They just place me in some rehab facility, and they hand my entire life over to a bunch of quacks with stethoscopes. You couldn’t cough without three people jumping down your throat at that joint. So I took control again…I bust out, and decide to come back. And then what happens? I gotta rely on Mark Stevens to sneak me back into the league. He did it, and I’m grateful…but it’s just me having to put myself at someone else’s mercy. So I go and train, and then King calls me out of the blue. Now I’m back in the hands of some power-hungry jackass who’s just using me as a pawn in his own ambitions to ruin other people’s lives! This is just the way my life keeps going! First Nekura and the Clan, then Chris Wilson and the Magnificent Seven, and now King…I can’t deal with this. I dunno…is it worth it? Should I even bother with this?”

As Strangler contemplates this, King walks in, and notices Strangler still staring away at the broken picture on the ground. “Strangler, where have you been? They’re about to play our music! Get ready! And for god’s sake, be on your game out there! I refuse to let Neilsen beat me! Now do NOT let me down!” King storms out again as Strangler looks up.

“I must really love this job…cuz if I’m gonna do all the shit he keeps going on about, there ain’t no other explanation” says Strangler as he finally peels his eyes away from the broken picture on the ground. “I’ll do it…but I don’t have to like it” he says as he walks out the door, slamming it on the way out.

May 5, 2003

A picture of Bobby Riley and “Grand Slam” Mark Stevens appears on screen after a brief promo for the next SWF Pay-Per-View.

Stevens: “Jesus Christ! That was amazing!”

Riley: “Of course it was! Would you expect any less from Danny “Deathwish” Williams and the dastardly Dawg, Jamie Drazon, for the second most important title in the Smartmarks Wrestling Federation, the illustrious Intercontinental Television Championship?”

Stevens: “Well no… But despite the shock and awe of damn near every move featured in the last match, the next match is not about titles… The next match is not about glory… The next match…is personal.”

With that, the images of Stevens and Riley fade to black…

The theme song of Battleground, Mudvayne’s “Falling Down,” starts to play as the faces of Neilsen and Suicide King flash across the screen. The lyrics start to disperse throughout the arena and through your television screen…

AAAAAAAAAA! (A crimson masked Neilsen has his mouth wide open)

Always, (Neilsen facing Frost.)

known in, (Suicide King at his desk.)

all my time, (Michelle backstage dressed conservatively with a clipboard in her hands.)

A little left of center now (Neilsen throws down the ICTV Championship.)

Reflect as I realize, (Suicide rubs his forehead.)

That all I need is to find the middle pillar path to sit like the sun by a star in the sky and

just be. (Michelle sees Neilsen walking by.)

Sinners, casting stones at me (Neilsen takes Wildchild out with a steel chair.)

(These next four images seem to shake violently.)

I... I stand, not crawling, not falling down (Neilsen hits Craven with a Spinning McTwist.)

I... I bleed the demons that drag me down (Suicide King looks at his door getting kicked in.)

I... I stand, (for nothing), not crawling, (the center), not falling down (of calms within the eye) (Neilsen and Suicide are face to face over King’s desk.)

I... I'll bleed, (for no one), The demons, (but myself), that pull me down (for me and no one else) (Neilsen shoves King down)

Goodbye, sunshine, I've put it out again, sad (Suicide smiles sinisterly in the mirror.)

I'm over, personalities, conflicting, I don't need you, or anyone, but me, I'll just be, living (Neilsen taking a beating while in the ring against Judge and MVS.)

my own life (Suicide laughs at Neilsen.)

I feel my glowing center grow, infecting (Neilsen staring down Janus, Fugue and Eddy Long.)

I feel alive (Eddy tazes Janus, Neilsen McTwists Fugue, wraps up Eddy and forces him to make the count with an assist from a tazer.)

Shovel dirt over lime, plant it in myself to sit like a seed under covers of earth and just be (Suicide King’s shit-eating grin appears on a ‘tron looking down at Neilsen.)

Sinners, pointing fingers at me (Neilsen hurls his chair at the teeth of the giant ‘tron image.)

(Four violently shaking scenes follow.)

I... I stand, (for nothing), not crawling, (by myself), not falling down (Neilsen runs into the ring.)

I... I bleed, (for no one), the demons, (but myself), that drag me down (He takes out security.)

I... I stand, (for nothing), not crawling, (the center), not falling down (of calms within the eye) (Neilsen looks up at the ‘tron.)

I... I'll bleed, (for no one), the demons, (but myself), that pull me down (for me and no one else) (Suicide King appears on the ‘tron and looks down at an apparently shouting Neilsen.)

Come play kill (Neilsen appears behind Mr. Dratch.)

Refuse my body, refuse my shadow (Michelle walks into King’s office.)

Stone cold will (Neilsen appears in the ring holding a chain.)

Refuse to lead this, refuse to follow (He yanks in Michelle.)

Bitter pills (Suicide King appears on stage.)

Refuse to feed this, refuse to swallow (Suicide King appears to be shouting at Neilsen.)

I'm fueled godless (Neilsen and Michelle are in a passionate embrace and then pull apart to stare at a shocked King with a glint in their eyes and blood on Neilsen’s lips.)

Come play, come play (Neilsen sets fire to Jay Dawg.)

KILL (Jay Dawg knocks a tooth out of Neilsen’s mouth and lays down a beating on him.)

Just be, just be (Neilsen is shown in various scenes backstage with Michelle.)

(As a semi-long play of heavy music plays, images of King and Neilsen hitting finishers and destroying various foes from the past are shown.)

I... I stand, (for nothing), not crawling, (by myself), not falling down (Neilsen is in the ring.)

I... I bleed, (for no one), the demons, (but myself), that drag me down (Michelle appears on the ‘tron in a chair with Suicide King beside her.)

I... I stand, (for nothing), not crawling, (the center), not falling down (of calms within the eye) (Neilsen runs to the back.)

I... I'll bleed, (for no one), the demons, (but myself), that drag me down (for me and no one else) (Neilsen gets taken out by a lead pipe and Michelle eats a Joker’s Wild.)

(Neilsen and King’s pissed off faces appear one final time. Fuming as they stare nose to nose.)

As the image of the sold out Pepsi Center in Denver, Colorado reappears, the incredible mass of humanity is cheering madly for the coming contest. The crowd then explodes as a heavy beat starts to bump as images of a man pulling on black fingerless gloves, black elbow pads and black kneepads appears on the Smarktron. “…can you feel that?” Funyon enters the ring.

Funyon: “The following contest is a tag team match! Hailing from Chicago, Illinois…”

The fans stare up at the Smarktron as the man’s scarred chest is shown on the Smarktron with a black wifebeater being pulled over it. His arms can be seen pumping. His sandaled feet are shown hopping up and down. “Aw shit…”

Funyon: “Weighing in at 245 lbs…”

Images from behind of the man walking into excited arenas bearing a steel chair are shown as the fans start to buzz.

Funyon: “Michelle and Neilsen…of…the…Juuunngglllllle!!!”

“Ooooo…ah ah ah ah!” The fans explode as Neilsen comes bursting out from behind the curtains bearing a steel chair with his hot little brown haired number, Michelle, follows close behind. Neilsen stands on top of the stage, holds his right arm high and his left arm as well, with his left hand bringing the chair up with it. Michelle wraps her arms around Neilsen’s neck and chest, placing her chin on his right shoulder. Flashbulbs bathe the arena in their bright glow. Michelle has a bandage on her forehead after the vicious Joker’s Wild delivered on a locker room floor at the last Smarkdown! As the music continues to play, the duo end their pose and start walking down the ramp. Neilsen has his eyes locked on the ring almost as hard as Michelle has her eyes locked on the Hardcore King. The Jungler rolls in and Michelle climbs up the steps and enters as Neilsen pulls up the middle rope for her. Neilsen then stalks towards the middle of the ring, holds his chair and right arm high and gets a huge ovation as his woman points at him. The crowd’s going mad until…

The arena goes dark and the voice of Ozzy Ozborne screams out, "ALL ABOARD!! AH HAH HAH HAH!!" The fans immediately start booing as Funyon announces…

Funyon: “And their first opponent…”

The stage suddenly explodes as a wall of crimson pyro shoots skyward, deafening and blinding those closest. When the pyro finishes the wailing guitar chords of Ozzy Ozborne's "Crazy Train" pick up in volume and the Suicide King is revealed, posing cockily as the crowds pours their derision on him (and the few sparse cheers from desperate women). Smirking in disdain, he faces the couple in the ring. He points at Michelle and she starts to quiver, rubbing her forehead due to an unconscious reflex.

Funyon: “Hailing from Dayton, Ohio, weighing in at 224 lbs., he is a former World Heavyweight Champion and the reigning SWF Commissioner, he is the Suuuicide Kiiing!”

The fans boo the shit outta’ this man, one of the most famous, and hated, men in the history of this federation. Out of seemingly nowhere, the Gambling Man whips out a microphone and lifts it to his lips to a chorus of disgust.

SK: “Well Neil, looks like this is it. (Suicide King faces the fans.) Are you ready for Neilsen’s last match? (The hatred is palpable.) You think you’ll win and get a World Title shot? Are you a frickin’ re-well…actually…you probably are Jungle Boy. But you won’t win this and neither will your bitch because let me introduce to you…my tag team partner…”

The crowd hushes…

“T!”

“B!”

“S!!!”

The crowd explodes as the arena goes dim as the opening chords of “Godzilla” by Blue Oyster Cult start to play. As the song launches into the opening guitar riff, the SmarkTron™ lights up with the name “STRANGLER” in big white letters as a massive burst of white pyro explodes from the stage. As the pyro begins to die down, Strangler emerges from the pyro. He raises one fist into the air as he looks out onto the crowd and then he slowly begins to walk down the ramp.

SK: “Neil, your future is about to be Strangled!”

The fans roar as Strangler climbs into the ring. Kivell takes Neilsen’s chair and Michelle steps out onto the ring apron. The Jungler faces off against the Strangler as Suicide King cockily walks towards the ring.

Ding! Ding!

Neilsen starts hopping around while Strangler pumps his arms. Neilsen slowly starts walking to his right and Strangler walks to his. Neilsen brings his arms rapidly in and the fans cheer. King steps onto the apron. Neilsen-swings at King! Suicide hops back, Neilsen flips him off and-gets squashed against the ropes by Strangler! TBS grabs him and whips him across, Neilsen is inches away from the ropes and-falls, slides out of the ring and starts running around it after the King! The fans go crazy as Suicide starts running. He passes Michelle and rolls in, Neilsen slides in after him and-clothesline by TBS takes him down! TBS grabs Neilsen for a powerbomb, hauls him up and-Neilsen flips over, holds on and-

ONE!

T-Kickout!

Stevens: “Neilsen almost stole one!”

Riley: “Not quite.”

Strangler rolls back, stands up, Neilsen charges, leaps, wraps his legs around Strangler’s head, gets caught and hurled high! He comes down on the ropes, stumbles back, Strangler wraps his arms around Neilsen’s waist, hurls him back in a release German Suplex, Neilsen flips fast through the air, lands on all fours, Strangler rises, turns and-gets two sandaled feet to the face! The fans erupt as Strangler goes down! Neilsen starts crawling to his corner. Michelle rapidly shakes her head back and forth. Neilsen holds out his hand and-swears as he sees his partner.

Stevens: “What? Did Neilsen forget who he was with?”

Riley: “Well, he does get caught up in the action some times.”

Neilsen scrambles to his feet, turns and-dodges a clothesline, Michelle gets bumped off the apron, hits the floor, Strangler rebounds, Neilsen latches onto Strangler’s chest, flips him over, sits-out and-

Stevens: “Fear Factor!”

Riley: “Neilsen’s sitting on his chest and holding a leg for the pin!”

Kivell goes down to count…

ONE!

TWO!

TH-Kickout sends Neilsen flying!

Stevens: “Neilsen almost-!”

Neilsen gets to his feet and-smashed down to the mat by a rising clothesline from The Boston Strangler. TBS pushes himself up, grabs Neilsen’s shirt and lifts his feet off the mat. He sneers at the Jungler and-Neilsen grabs the man’s head and drives it into his left knee. Strangler stumbles back, Neilsen runs back, rebounds, leaps, slaps on a side-headlock, spins 180 and-TBS shoves him off, Neilsen lands on his feet, charges, leaps, latches his legs around Strangler’s head, Strangler gets his hands under Neilsen’s thighs, shoves him back, Neilsen flips, lands on all fours, Strangler latches on a side-headlock, spins, brings an elbow down on Neilsen’s head and hits-

Stevens: “A Lobotomy!”

Riley: “Neilsen’s out of i-!”

As Strangler starts to rise, Neilsen leaps on the man’s back and starts slamming his head into the mat. Neilsen grabs Strangler by the hair, charges, leaps over the top rope and hits a hangman on the Bostonian! Strangler’s back slams against the mat, Neilsen grabs the top rope, barely manages to stay on the apron, stands, steals a quick kiss from his woman, leaps, springboards, flies, Strangler stands, Neilsen wraps his legs around Strangler’s head, flips around and TBS goes flying from a springboard hurricanrana! Neilsen charges the turnbuckles left of the ramp, leaps, lands on top, turns around, swings his arm over his head to large cheers and-Suicide King rushes in from the side and shoves Neilsen off and into the ring barricade!

Stevens: “No Fair!”

Riley: “The ref is sure to…hey! Is that?”

The referee for this contest, Eddy Long, is shown mildly scolding his boss and the SWF Commissioner. Neilsen is out on the floor holding his mouth after brutally slamming his face into the barricade. TBS appears to scowl at the Suicide King, but he quickly exits the ring and goes after Neilsen. He reaches down, grabs Neilsen’s head and-Michelle runs along the apron, leaps off, lands on TBS’s back and starts tearing at his eyes! The fans go wild, Strangler turns around, tries to flip this wild woman off and-Neilsen hits a low blow! Strangler goes down and Neilsen and Michelle start laying the sandals and bare feet to the man! Eddy Long runs out of the ring, grabs Michelle and starts pulling her away from his boss’ partner, his hands seemingly going everywhere. Neilsen sees this, charges, Eddy lets Michelle go and shouts at Neilsen, “You touch me, you lose and you’ll be fired!” Neilsen slows and rolls back in the ring. Eddy smirks, turns and-gets the taste slapped out of his mouth by Michelle! She yells at the man who’s down on the floor as TBS climbs onto the apron.

Stevens: “Yes, this match is ripe with possibilities. If Neilsen wins, he gets a shot at the World Championship at our next show. If Michelle wins, Neilsen and the King will face off one-on-one at the next Pay Per View in a match of Neilsen’s choosing.”

Riley: “And WHEN King or TBS win, Neilsen is finally out of the SWF for good!”

Neilsen charges, leaps and-Strangler grabs Neilsen around the neck and Neilsen takes the version of a chokeslam called-The Plunge! The fans slightly cheer this and TBS enters the ring. He starts stomping away at Neilsen before hauling him up. He kicks Neilsen in the gut, grabs his arm and hurls him across the ring, Neilsen rebounds, Strangler lifts a big boot, Neilsen runs under, rebounds, Strangler turns, Neilsen leaps and the crowd explodes as Neilsen takes him down with two forearms to the face! Neilsen begs Strangler to rise, he does, Neilsen charges and-a pair of forearms brings him down again! Neilsen begs Strangler to get up once more, charges, swings, TBS ducks, Neilsen hits the ropes, rebounds, leaps, slaps on a sleeper, spins 360 degrees and plants TBS with a Wet Dream!

Riley: “Neilsen’s Wet Dream will make you scream!”

Stevens: “Are you speaking from experience or…”

The fans are cheering wildly as Neilsen gets back up. Neilsen-turns, charges, swings and-King dodges, grabs Neilsen’s head and brings it down across the top rope! Neilsen stumbles back, Suicide King slides back onto the ring apron, leaps, springboards and hits a missile dropkick on Neilsen! The Jungler’s back hits the mat, he rolls backwards, Suicide King charges and clotheslines Neilsen over the top rope and to the floor right next to the announce table! The fans boo as Eddy seems to chastise the Heartbreaker. Suicide King smiles, holds his arms out wide as if to say, “What did I do?” The Kingly one then walks out to the apron and gets in his corner. He holds the tag rope while flashing his shit-eating grin at Michelle.

Stevens: “This isn’t fair. Eddy will let the King do whatever he wants!”

Riley: “Of course! He’s the boss!”

Neilsen is lying unconscious out on the floor. Slowly, his head starts to wave back and forth. He raises it and a sneer grows on his lips. His eyes go red. A rumbling growl starts to rip out. It fills the arena. The fans near the Hardcore King back up. His hand darts under the ring, whips out a steel chair, he rolls into the ring, charges Suicide King, swings, King leaps back with fear in his eyes, Neilsen growls at him, turns, sees Strangler rising, charges and-steel meets skull through a big boot! Eddy kicks the chair out of the ring and Strangler covers Neilsen for-Onetwothr-No! Neilsen kicks out!

Stevens: “Did you see that? A fast count!”

Riley: “Calm down. That can’t shock you. He probably has orders to do that. And besides, remember why Neilsen was suspended? He superkicked Eddie Lo.”

Stevens: “Long deserved it.”

Neilsen goes to charge Long, but Strangler grabs the back of Neilsen’s wifebeater and slams him back down! Strangler stomps away at Neilsen, hauls him up, whips him at the ropes, hurls Neilsen high in a flapjack, Strangler catches Neilsen’s legs and slams him down with a standing spinebuster! Strangler stumbles back, turns towards Suicide King, holds out his hand and-Suicide shakes his head. Strangler shouts at him and Suicide King orders him to get back to work. Strangler spits at the mat in front of Suicide King’s feet and turns back to Neilsen.

Stevens: “There seems to be trouble in the Suicide King/Boston Strangler camp.”

Riley: “Looks like TBS doesn’t enjoy being bossed around like someone’s bitch.”

Strangler grabs Neilsen, hooks the man’s arms and-Neilsen raises up and Strangler flips overhead! The fans roar, Neilsen charges a rising Strangler, slaps on a side-headlock, leaps, spins and slams Strangler’s head to the mat with a Tornado DDT! Strangler goes flying, Neilsen charges the ropes, leaps, lands on the middle rope, flips back and nails Strangler with a second rope moonsault! Neilsen hooks a leg for-nothing!

Stevens: “What the hell!?!”

Riley: “The Suicide King has Long distracted!”

Suicide King doesn’t even have a leg over the rope as Long apparently tells him to get out of the ring. Neilsen gets up, grabs Long, spins him around and-Long orders him to back off! Neilsen’s eyes go wide. He swing-a struggling to keep standing Strangler grabs his arm! He spins Neilsen around and clotheslines-Eddie Long! Strangler is in shock as Neilsen managed to dodge! Strangler turns and-low blow! Neilsen kicked a field goal between two posts! Strangler goes down, Neilsen shouts at the Suicide King and…the fans explode as Suicide King enters!

Stevens: “It’s time!”

Riley: “King versus King!”

The two men start circling one another. The crowd starts stomping their feet. King waves Neilsen on. The arena shakes. Neilsen flips King off and the place explodes! Neilsen charges, King charges, Neilsen swings, King ducks, Neilsen rebounds and-King slides out of the ring! Neilsen grabs the ropes and shouts at King. The Suicide King then flips Jungle King off to a chorus of boos.

Stevens: “That cheap bastard!”

Riley: “What? He’s too smart to actually get in the ring with the Hardcore King. He ain’t going to risk his lady killing good looks against a lady beating bastard like Neilsen.”

Neilsen swears at King to get his “bitch ass” back in the ring as Eddie Long starts to shake the cobwebs out of his head. Neilsen turns his attention back to a pissed off Strangler who is using the ropes to bring himself to his feet. Neilsen charges, leaps, Strangler ducks and Neilsen goes-over the top rope, lands on his feet, grabs Strangler’s shoulders and slams the big man’s shoulders to the mat. Neilsen shouts at the man, climbs the turnbuckles in the enemy corner, prepares to jump and-King leaps, grabs the top rope, shakes them and Neilsen gets crotched! The crowd gasps and Michelle covers her mouth. Strangler is slowly rising. He sees Neilsen crotched on the top rope and doesn’t really seem to think about how it happened. Strangler climbs up the ‘buckles, grabs Neilsen’s head, throws the man’s arm over his own head and…

Stevens: “He’s not going to-!”

Riley: “Holy Shiiiiiiii-!”

Strangler hauls him high and goes flying back in a huuuge Superplex! The mat nearly buckles as the men smash into it and neither one moves. Eddie counts, “One!” King immediately shouts at him to stop the count.

Stevens: “Now why would he do that?”

Riley: “Because if it’s a draw, Neilsen stays in the SWF!”

The fans murmur and-Strangler starts crawling towards Neilsen. He puts a hand on the man’s chest and Eddie’s down for a heated-

ONE!

TWO!

THRE-Neilsen gets a shoulder up!

Eddie can’t believe it! King is literally hopping mad on the ring apron and Strangler is…not really reacting since he’s not completely conscious yet. Michelle starts clapping her hands and the fans take her cue and start stomping their feet for Neilsen. For what seems an eternity, neither man moves until…Neilsen kips up and the fans explode! The Jungler almost falls on his ass, but manages to stay on his feet. He then staggers back and-misses a quick moving King again! Neilsen swears and then turns back to Strangler. He waves him up. Begs him to rise. Pleads with whatever God it is that Neilsen might worship to make TBS stand. Strangler staggers to his feet. Neilsen charges in, swings, Strangler ducks, both men turn, boot to-Strangler catches Neilsen’s foot, flips it high, Neilsen spins 360, lands on his feet, boot to Strangler’s gut, side-headlock, twist-STUN-Strangler wraps his right arm around Neilsen’s head and plants him with-

Stevens: “The Last Breath!”

Riley: “It’s over!”

Strangler hooks a leg and the man that sees victory as a certainty, Eddie Long, goes down to count the-

ONE!

TWO!

THRE-Neilsen kicks out and the fans explode! Now Strangler can’t believe it! After all the work he had done to beat this man, seeing as the King wanted no part of Neilsen, the Jungle Bastard managed to kick out of a move that brought more men to their knee than Bobby Riley! Suicide King also can’t believe it…but he’s fucking pissed. King enters the ring and walks right past Eddie. He yells at Strangler. Strangler yells right back. King asks him if he remembers who the hell King is? King slaps the Boston Strangler! TBS shoves King and the fans erupt! King shoves Strangler right back and-Neilsen catches Strangler in a school boy! Eddie looks at the King who’s eyes are wide and-King kicks Neilsen in the gut! Neilsen rolls away, King grabs Neilsen, whips him, Strangler rises, Neilsen rebounds, bolts past them, rebounds, the two men turn and-Neilsen hits King and TBS with double flying forearms! King and TBS hit the mat and the crowd explodes!

Stevens: “Neilsen just hit the King!”

Riley: “He should be fired!”

Stevens: “He can’t just be fired. When Neilsen was reinstated with the help of Michelle, that was one of the conditions.”

Neilsen turns back just in time to see King roll out of the ring. Neilsen then snaps his attention to TBS. He waves him up. Strangler gets to all fours, his knees, one knee, up to his feet and-boot, headlock, twist…

STUNNER!!!

Stevens: “Neilsen McTwist! McTwist! McTwist!”

Riley: “Holy F’n Shit it’s over! Neilsen will get a World Title shot next week!”

TBS goes flying, Neilsen gets to his feet, stumbles back, Michelle latches onto him and the Hardcore King gives her a quick kiss. He then runs forward, grabs TBS’s leg, rolls onto Strangler’s chest and… Eddie Long doesn’t know what to do. King is holding his mouth on the floor outside. Strangler’s not moving and Neilsen is… Eddie smiles and-

-claps his hand together over his own head!

Stevens: “What the hell is that? He’s signaling a tag!”

Riley: “But the King isn’t even ready or willing to get in the-”

Eddie Long points at Michelle!

Stevens: “What!?! They never tagged!”

Riley: “They…they kissed! When Neilsen kissed her, he tagged her in!”

Stevens: “Bullshit!”

Riley: “Stevens!”

Stevens: “What? It is!”

Michelle is shaking her head. Outside, King starts to rise. The King inside the ring lets go of Strangler and gets in Long’s face. Suicide King grabs a chair from under the ring, using it to help him stand. Neilsen and Long are in a heated argument with Eddie repeatedly claiming there was a tag. Strangler is still out. King makes it to his feet with a look of utter hatred upon his face. Neilsen finally turns from Long as King starts making his way around the ring. He says to Michelle, “Just tag me back in so we can end this sh*t.” Michelle nods and enters the ring. Neilsen exits, holds out his hand and-is torn off the apron just before Michelle makes the tag by the Suicide King! Neilsen turns and-CRACK! A steel chair cracks Neilsen’s cranium!

Stevens: “Holy crap! King just took out Neilsen and now Michelle is all alone!”

Riley: “Perfect!”

Stevens: “Perfect!?! You sick bastard!”

Riley: “She’s only going to get what’s coming to her. You never turn your back on the King!”

Michelle looks around like a doe caught in the headlights. She suddenly turns and covers Strangler. Eddie just laughs at her. She stands and-King slides in with a steel chair in hand! She backs away and bumps into Eddie Long who latches onto her arms for his King. She struggles and screams, but it’s all for naught. King shouts at her, “Leave me! Leave me for him!” He drops the chair and slaps the woman to an unbelievable amount of hatred from the Pepsi Center crowd. Tears roll down her cheeks as King verbally berates her. He grabs the woman by the hair and pulls her head back. A fan tries to jump the barricade but security stops him.

Stevens: “I can’t believe this! Somebody has to stop him!”

Riley: “…I…you’re…you’re right. This is a job for-”

Riley stands up, rips open his Hawaiian shirt to reveal-two giant nipple rings. Stevens pulls him back down.

Stevens: “-for someone else.”

King sneers at the woman, rears the chair back and-the fans explode as he can’t get it forward! He turns and sees that the man holding the chair is-

T! B! S!!! King looks with wide eyes at the man keeping him from his “glorious” revenge. He drops the chair and starts shouting at The Boston Strangler! He shoves him and-gets floored by a right hand! Eddie can’t believe it and-Michelle stomps on his right foot and then punts a low blow! Eddie goes down as TBS picks King up. TBS whips King at the ropes, rebound, TBS swings, King ducks, TBS turns and-Superkick! TBS is floored, King is smiling, Michelle reaches into her black bra, King turns and-Michelle’s right hand flies and King is blinded by powder! Eddie, with his watering eyes, has no idea what to do!

Stevens: “TBS has turned on King in defense of Michelle!”

Riley: “This match has gone to hell!”

King stumbles back and Michelle leaps upon him. She brings him down and starts slapping her former man. King manages to grabs her wrists and rolls her over. With a vile sneer upon his face, he looks down at the woman. He raises the back of his right hand and-it’s grabbed by TBS! King swears as TBS pulls him in, nails him with a knee to the gut, slaps on a double underhook, raises King over his right shoulder and slams him chest first to the mat with the Guilty Conscious! King clutches his gut as TBS looks down at his boss.

Stevens: “I can’t believe this turn of events.”

Riley: “I know! King’s Ace wound up being a Joker!”

Stevens: “…”

Riley: “Yeah, I know…that’s a good one, wasn’t it.”

TBS grabs King once more and-eats another low blow!

Stevens: “It’s crotch crunching chaos tonight!”

Riley: “…crap.”

King slowly starts rising and boots TBS a few times. He rears back for another kick and-Michelle leaps on his back! She-gets snapmared over his head, an arm wrapped around her head and a knee to her back in a reverse DDT onto his knee! King grabs her and shouts at Eddie Long, “I tagged!” Eddie slaps his hands over his head to signify that fact. King whips Michelle at the ropes, she rebounds, ducks a clothesline, rebounds and-her head snaps back as she eats a high knee! TBS starts to get up and-King charges, hits a knee lift on Strangler, grabs his head, charges the ropes, jumps, lands on the middle ropes, springs back and plants him with a bulldog! King climbs the turnbuckles left of the ramp. He gives the Superfly “I Love You” sign to earth shattering shouts of hatred and disgust. King looks down at the unconscious Michelle, the unconscious Boston Strangler, leaps and smashes a huge splash into… TBS!

Stevens: “King chose to take out his…well…ex-partner, I guess.”

Riley: “Well, he was the greater threat.”

King laughs at his downed tag teammate, turns and-a flying, furious Neilsen takes King down! The fans explode as Neilsen starts blasting away at his nemesis! Neilsen hauls him up, whips him at the ropes, King rebounds, Neilsen leaps, King runs under, Neilsen turns, King rebounds, Neilsen ducks, King leaps over, Neilsen turns, King rebounds, Eddie grabs Neilsen, Neilsen shoves him off and-King sends Neilsen flying out of the ring with a hurricanrana! Neilsen hits the floor by the ramp and King charges the ropes! He leaps over the top rope, Neilsen rises and gets taken down with a Suicida Plancha! King hauls Neilsen up and-CRASH!-sends him blasting into the ring steps! The steel steps go flying.

Stevens: “King’s taken total control of this match.”

Riley: “He never needed The Boston Strangler in the first place!”

King slides back into the ring, shouts something to Long, walks over towards the still down Michelle and-small package! King kicks out while Eddie didn’t even move. He kicks at Michelle to draw further hatred. King hauls her up, whips her at the ropes, Michelle swings-King catches the arm, wrenches it, Michelle yells and-gets an Ax kick to her face! King stops, looks around and takes a bow to get shit thrown at him from all sides. King then signals it’s over, hauls Michelle up, slaps on a ¾ nelson and-TBS slams him down from behind!

Stevens: “TBS saved her again!”

Riley: “I can’t believe the gall of this man!”

King gets up, he’s pissed and-eats a left hand! A right! A left! Right! Left! Right! Left! King is wobbling against the ropes, Strangler whips him, King rebounds, leaps, Strangler catches him and-hurls him over the top rope and to the floor with a huge Fallaway Slam! King lands next to the announcers, TBS charges the ropes next to the ramp, rebounds, King stands and-the fans go wild as a 6’9”, 303lbs. monster missile smashes into the Suicide King! TBS stands and hurls King back in. Chants of, “TBS! TBS! TBS!,” ring loud and clear. TBS climbs in and King is sliding back, begging the man off. TBS gets close and-small package by King! Eddie counts…

ONE!

TWO!

THR-TBS kicks out!

Stevens: “Strangler kicked out! I can’t believe i…”

Riley: “…”

Stevens: “Wait…they’re partners…”

King charges, boot to his gut, double arm hook, King flips back into a Northern Lights for-

ONE!

TWO!

THRE-No!

Riley: “…this is ridiculous.”

King scrambles back up and-is floored by a rising clothesline! Both men are down and breathing hard. The crowd explodes as Neilsen climbs onto the ring apron. He leaps, springboards and hits a leg drop…on TBS!

Stevens: “What the hell!?!”

Riley: “A…a double swerve!?!”

Neilsen starts booting TBS and kicks his ass out of the ring!

Stevens: “What the Fuck!”

Neilsen then turns and King slowly rises…with a smile on his face. The fans immediately start booing.

Riley: “No…no way…I…I can’t believe…”

King holds out his hand…and Neilsen takes it. They hold each other’s arms high and the crowd explodes! Men are flipping Neilsen off. Women are throwing trash at the King. The fans…they…

Explode when Neilsen clotheslines the King! He charges the ‘buckles, leaps, lands, turns, leaps, pumps his arms and-King moves as Neilsen smashes the mat with a Five Star Frog Splash! The Jungler rolls out of the ring and the King rises, smiles and-Michelle pushes him! He turns, she swings, he grabs her hand and-gives her some deep throat! She squeals! He throws her down, turns to verbal disgust and-TBS is back in and-gets taken down by a drop-toehold into the ropes! King leaps over the ropes and drops a leg onto TBS’s head! TBS springs back and hits the mat. King climbs back in, TBS tries to scramble to his feet, King charges, leaps, gets caught in a gorilla-

Stevens: “Boston Massa-!”

King slides off behind TBS, slaps on a ¾ nelson, rears back and-

Riley: “Joker’s Wil-!”

-the fans erupt as he eats a low blow from Michelle! King goes down, TBS hauls him back up, whips him at the ropes, catches him in a Gorilla Press Slam, lets go, catches him in a Death Valley Driver and slams him with-

Stevens: “The Boston Massacre!!!”

Riley: “Holy Shit! It’s over!”

-but TBS can’t pin…he grabs Michelle and drapes her onto the Suicide King! Eddie refuse to count…until TBS grabs his head and throws him down to the mat. He steps on Eddie’s back and Eddie Long is forced to count, against his boss…

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!!!

DING! DING! DING!

The crowd fucking goes wild!

Stevens: “It’s over! I can’t believe it! Michelle pinned the Suicide King! TBS turned on his boss! Neilsen and King barely even touched each other! And…and…and…”

Riley: “And Neilsen versus the Suicide King, one-on-one, is coming!

TBS spits at the King and exits the ring. He makes his way up the ramp to unanimous cheers. He soon exits through the curtains. Long reluctantly raises Michelle’s arm as Neilsen and Funyon enter the ring.

Funyon: “Ladies and Gentlemen, you’re winners, Neilsen and…Michelle…of…the…(Crowd: “Mother Fuckin’!”)…Juuunglllle!!!”

Neilsen looks at Michelle in disbelief as the people go crazy. She charges him, wraps her arms around and pours out her joy and recent fears through it while he does not return the sentiment. He merely looks from the downed King, to Michelle and back again. After a few seconds, Neilsen throws her arms off him. He grabs the microphone from Funyon.

NotJ: “Well Brian, you lost…(Neilsen looks at his woman.)…and…Michelle…(Neilsen looks back at King.)…she f**kin’ won.”

Neilsen sneers at his woman.

NotJ: “Guess that means Brian…we have a date. As I said before From the Fire…”

Neilsen looks back to King.

NotJ: “Get…Ready.”

Neilsen throws down the mic and-

RRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!

-blasts over the loud speakers. The fans go wild as “Welcome to the Jungle” starts to play and-Neilsen stops in mid-exit. He looks to his woman.

NotJ: “Bitch…you f**ked up.”

The crowd quiets.

NotJ: “You cost me a World Championship match.”

Neilsen stalks towards her.

NotJ: “You had to have the glory.”

Neilsen smirks.

NotJ: “…I don’t want to f**kin’ see your ass tonight. I’m leaving on my own. I’ll call you when I’m damn well f**kin’ ready. See, I had to win this because…”

NotJ: “I AM Neilsen of the Mother F**kin’ Jungle! King couldn’t beat me! Strangler couldn’t outfight me! And no one can outsmart me! And if you ever cost me my glory again…YOU…WILL…FEAR ME!!!”

Neilsen looks straight at Michelle.

NotJ: “Roar mother f**ker…”

“Ooooo…ah ah ah ah!,” hits right before Disturbed’s “Sickness” starts to play. Neilsen exits to cheers and a quiet murmur of uncertainty. Michelle remains in the ring with tears in her eyes. Behind her…King starts to rise.

Stevens: “Oh…oh God no! Michelle! Behind you! Get out of the ring!”

King grabs a chair, Michelle turns and…

CRACK!

Riley: “Oh my fuckin’ God!”

King just practically took Michelle’s fucking head off! The chorus of hatred and sheer…sheer fucking anger is overwhelming. Blood is pouring down Michelle’s beautiful face. King stands over her holding the chair high in an image so disturbing…it reminds people of another King…

Stevens: “Oh my God. We need help.”

Riley: “And…shit…the Neilsen/Suicide Saga continues and…and we’ve still got more…more stuff to get to… TLC is up next. Get ready because this is a Battleground!”

May 5, 2003

Stevens speaks, “Ladies and Gentlemen, throughout the history of the wrestling world, three objects have become infamous for their impact. Infamous for the amount of damage they can cause to the human body in one horrifying moment. They are simply the table, the ladder and the chair. And in just a few moments, six men will prove their mastery of these weapons as Déjà Vu, Wild and Dangerous, and SWF World Tag Team Champions Justice and Rule battle it out for the belts and more importantly for survival.”

DING! DING! DING!

With a moment of silence, the camera pans about the ringside area to display quite a large number of the aforementioned weaponry placed in strategic positions just waiting for the three teams to use with great vengeance and furious anger against each other. But the thing the camera focuses on more than anything else is the site of two golden belts suspended high in the air. For that is the final destination of this dark journey. If you want to win this massacre, that’s where you are going to have to end up.

Funyon steps into the center of the ring as the Colorado crowd break into an excited murmur, having seen the proper placement of the weapons about the ring. “Ladies and Gentlemen… THIS is the TABLES, LADDERS, and CHAIRS MATCH for the SWF WORLD TAG TEAM TITLES! The rules of the contest are simple; the man to retrieve the belts hanging high above the ring wins the match for his team. Introducing first… team number one…”

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

With an explosion of pyrotechnics, and the sound of 50 Cent’s “In Da Club” rocking the arena, the crowd roars at the sight of the words “Wild!” and “Dangerous” flashing across the SmarkTron. Until finally stepping through the entranceway comes the mismatched high flyers known as Johnny Dangerous and Wildchild! Posing at the top of the ramp way for a moment, the exciting youngsters slap hands with the people on the way to the ring. But as soon as they arrive at the squared circle, the smiles fade and a serious veneer passes over them. This is not going to be a fun time; this is going to be war.

“Introducing at a total combined weight of 427 pounds, the team of “The Barracuda” Johnny Dangerous and Wildchild… They are WILD AND DANGEROUSSSSSSS!”

Pulling off his tuxedo jacket and shirt off at the onset, Johnny Dangerous prepares himself for some no frills conflict as Wildchild forgoes his typical into the ring flip to simply warm up against the ropes. Neither man is going to take a needless chance here tonight with so much on the line.

“Now introducing team number two!”

Spotlights immediately search the arena for those fun loving twins who just like to have fun as the crowd reacts positively to the sound of “Aw Naw” playing through the sound system! The spotlights finally find their quarry, though it’s a little different this time: The brothers are crowd surfing in! Indeed, the two thrill-seekers directed towards the ring by the hands of their fans, the two give surfer-like yells of excitement before they are put down just short of the barrier. The crowd cheers as the two energetically slide into the ring and meet each other in the center.

“Brah, we HAVE to do that again!”

“That was awesome, dude! Bitchin’ idea!”

“You da man, brah!”

“No, YOU da man!”

The two each leap up on to a turnbuckle, flashing finger signs and trying to elicit a bigger reaction from the crowd than the other.

“Weighing in tonight at 418 pounds, and hailing from the city that mob money built, Las Vegas, Nevada. They are the brothers Kris and Kross… Déjà VUUUUUUUUUUUUU!”

POPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPPOPPOPPOP!

“JUSTICE!!!”

“RULE!!!”

Coming through the entranceway to the sounds of Rage Against the Machine is none other than the SWF World Tag Team Champions! Nearly seeming naked without their tag title belts wrapped around their waists, Ejiro Fasaki and Judge William Hearford walk to the ring with the same degree of disdain and anger as always. Wearing Justice and Rule hooded sweatshirts over their heads, the gruesome twosome methodically make their way into the ring before starring directly at the two opposing squadrons. Pulling off their sweats, Ejiro and The Judge stand by as Wild and Dangerous and Déjà Vu exchange words from across the ring.

“Weighing in at a total combined weight of 430 pounds and members of the elite Magnificent Seven. They are the current and undefeated SWF WORLD tag team champions and are the masters of the Rule of Law. The Judge William Hereford and Ejiro Fasaki are JUSTICE AND RULLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLE~!

“Take a look into the ring, Riley,” remarks Stevens, “and you will see three great tag teams. But right now, one is going to have to say that it will be a tremendous upset for anyone right now to dethrone Hearford and Fasaki.”

“But that’s the horrible thing about these stipulations, Stevens. Déjà Vu and Wild and Dangerous don’t have to even beat Justice and Rule. All they need to do is be quick enough to climb a ladder and make a grab. And with the speed and balance those four men have, Justice and Rule are going to have to be very careful if they want to retain their tag team titles.”

DING! DING! DING!

“And we’re off!” calls out Stevens as all six men stare at each other for just a moment.

But the stalemate does not last long before Wild and Dangerous swamp Ejiro Fasaki just as Déjà Vu does the same to Judge Hearford. With eight fists on two bodies, Justice and Rule are unable to defend themselves from the wild bombardment, staggering back under the hail of blows. Then, acting as one, the two challenging teams send Hearford and Fasaki flying into the ropes and nail them on the rebound with four big dropkicks! Hitting the canvas on a roll, Justice and Rule find themselves retreating to the arena floor as the two other teams hold court inside the ring.

“Collusion! That’s collusion I say!” whines Bobby Riley, “This is just like what The Suicide King is doing to Tom Flesher. He’s putting the Magnificent Seven into impossible situations for some crazy reason tonight! It’s sick and wrong!”

Déjà Vu turn to give hi-fives to the other pair, but the teamwork lasts no longer as the far more focused Wild and Dangerous immediately turn the tables on their temporary allies with surprise forearms to the head. Pulling Déjà Vu to opposite corners, Wildchild and Johnny Dangerous blast away with chops to open this match up in their favor. Whipping Kris and Kross together into the center of the ring, Dangerous and Wildchild look on as Kris leapfrogs right over Kross to avoid the collision!

CRACK! CRACK!

“Stereo superkicks by Wild and Dangerous!” says Stevens, “They were ready and waiting for Déjà Vu to try that move and had counters all lined up.”

Immediately looking to press their advantage, Johnny Dangerous pulls up Kross and whips him at the ropes. Wild and Dangerous bounce off the other side and they meet in the middle, with the famous SJL team grabbing him around the head and nailing him into the ground! His double gets up and tries to attack both of his brother’s assailants with a double clothesline… but Johnny and Wildchild take him by his arms and put him to the ground with a double hiptoss. Lands sitting, and the double team hits him in the back of the head with double dropkicks!

“Wild and Dangerous just took out Déjà Vu like that!” says Grand Slam, snapping his fingers in amazement, “I don’t think there is much doubt anymore that they deserve to be in this match.”

“What, because they can quadruple team the champs and take out a pair of numbnuts with ease? Give me a break…”

With Kris and Kross temporarily out of commission, Wild and Dangerous hold court in the ring for just a moment before Justice and Rule re-enter to lay down some laws of their own. But they aren’t going to do that with a gavel… Oh no, they have something a little heavier and a little more metallic.

BOOM~!

“Chair to the head!” yells Stevens.

Riley laughs, “And down goes Dangerous! Judge Hearford just knocked one out of the park!”

But Ejiro Fasaki is no Babe Ruth as his swing goes flying over the ducking head of his longtime SJL rival, Wildchild. Leaping into the air as Ejiro turns Wildchild kicks the chair right back into Fasaki’s face and sends him falling right to the mat! Loading up his weapon, The Judge tries to immediately quiet this dissenting opinion as he also takes a high swing strait at Wildchild’s face... But he fails to get the swing votes for the court as the Bahama Bomber wins the majority opinion by deftly ducking underneath the blow! He immediately turns around and leaps into the air again!

CRACK!

Stevens croaks, “Judge just knocked Wildchild right out of the air with a chair shot to the damn knees! I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so viscous in my life!”

“What brilliance by Judge Hearford,” cackles Riley, “If he can knock Wildchild’s knees out, it’s going to take the high flyers entire offense out of the equation! Plus, how is he going to climb a ladder with only one leg? Answer that one!”

Precisely what The Judge was thinking as he stomps down on the head of the staggered Wildchild just to get him worn out enough to sandwich his wounded ankle in between the folds of his steel chair. He gives one of the legs a good stomp, crushing the Bahamian’s leg in between the steel plates like a make-shift bear-trap, before picking up the chair that Ejiro dropped moments earlier. The Judge raises the chair up on high to fully incapacitate this enemy… but the assault ends there as the team of Déjà Vu is there with their favorite brand of attack! Tickling at the ribs of the suddenly spastic Hearford, Kris and Kross go to work as The Judge uncontrollably laughs at the invasion of his personal space. But not for long…

BOOM! BOOM!

Swinging the chair in hand at Kris and Kross, The Judge knocks the tickling twins away with almost a casual disdain. Rolling into the ropes, Déjà Vu try to pull their heads together as The Judge takes aim again at hobbling Wildchild. But by the time his attention returns to the Circus Crusher, Wildchild has already managed to find his way free of the chair. Well, that’s certainly not going to be enough to keep a good plan down, as William takes a low swing directly at Wildchild’s ankle … only to have Wildchild leap up to the second rope just in time to avoid to blow! The hard swing causes Hearford to lose his balance for a moment, and the high-flyer seizes the chance, springboarding off in a compact ball right into Hearford’s chest!

“And he’s a Pinball Wizard!” chuckles Mark as the crowd cheers, “Evidently the chair to legs wasn’t enough to knock the bolts out of Wildchild’s wheels. He’s still got the weapons that Wild and Dangerous are going to need in order to pull this match out of the fire.”

“I hate that song! And just watch, Wildchild will get his soon enough!”

Rolling over and firing off a few right hands into Hearford’s face, Wildchild is suddenly pulled off the recovering judicial assistant Ejiro Fasaki. Grabbing Wildchild by the hair, Ejiro pounds a knee into the chest of his opponent before looking to send him flying out of the ring. But the wily Wildchild quickly reverses the whip and sends Fasaki flying right over the top rope and all the way to the arena floor! Clawing at the air for a second, Wildchild brings the fans to their feet as he hits the far ropes and comes out flying onto his adversary with a crushing pinwheel splash to the unsuspecting Ejiro! Rising to his feet in euphoria over his big time move, Wildchild looks out to the people a moment too long before he’s summarily knocked strait to the arena floor after a running lariat from Judge Mental!

Standing over the walloped warrior and still recovering from the big DDT, The Judge raises an arm to the booing populace but is suddenly stymied as the jeers suddenly shift gears to a buzz of excitement. Being the veteran he is, Hearford knows in an instant that the cheer is sure as hell not for him as he quickly scans the arena for what might be coming. Unfortunately for him, it’s just not in time before…

WHOMP!

CRACK!

“Sweet mercy,” yells out Stevens, “Johnny Dangerous came off the top rope with a flying body press that not only crushed Judge Mental but also drove the back of his head into the damn ringside barrier! Hearford might be just plain old unconscious!”

Slumping against the railing as Dangerous pulls his own body off the floor, Judge looks to entirely out of commission for the time being. Pulling Wildchild up off the floor Johnny motions to his partner that it might just be time to up the ante in this match up. Grabbing a table, Johnny and Wildchild slide it into the ring for some future use. But inside the ring stand the brothers Vu, who are still struggling to recover from the chair shots that Hearford leveled them with a few moments before. Motioning to Wild and Dangerous to come and get them sum, Kris and Kross await the return to the ring by their opponents. But instead of taking them up on the deal, Wildchild and Johnny instead simply chuckle in the direction of the twins before going back over to continue their current dominance of the tag team champions. Kris gives a look of “DUDE” (Translation: Those good gentlemen are disrespecting our abilities) and says something to his brother.

"Brah, they don't take us seriously at ALL."

"Man, that's not kosher."

"Brah..."

Kris looks over at Kross as Wildchild punches Ejiro across the face.

"...Brah."

Kross returns the look, knowing that it was going to have to come down to this someday. While on the outside of the ring, Johnny Dangerous drives an elbow down into the bloody cut in the back of William’s head.

"We are going have to make them take us seriously."

They walk over to the ropes, where the two teams battle each other, oblivious to the two goof-offs.

"On the count of three."

"…One..."

"...Two…"

“THREE!” yells out Kross as he runs into the far ropes as Kris awaits his return. Running as hard as he can, Kross is back to his brother in an instant as Kris dips his head and backdrops his partner all the way over the top rope and onto the pile of men on the floor! And while Kross recovers from the impact, Kris takes the opportunity to pull the table towards the center of the ring. Leaving it flat, Kris happily takes control of Ejiro Fasaki and sends him back inside the ring as Kross gets up to follow his brother’s lead.

“With three men down, Déjà Vu is going to have a field day here against Fasaki! Face it Riley, the whole point of these TLC matches are to injure all of your opponents to the point that they’ll be in no shape to stop your assent for the belts. With Hearford apparently severely lacerated, if Déjà Vu can knock out Ejiro here, the tag team champions are going to be hard pressed to even factor into this match.”

“Hi, I’m Kris,” says the angry brother as he pulls Fasaki up and gives him a punch to the head, “And I’ll be your host for the evening. Kross here is setting up your table…”

Kross quickly pulls the legs out and sets them up, while Kris fires off yet another punch into Ejiro’s face. Getting a thumbs up from Kross, Kris tosses Ejiro right into the table.

“Your table is ready, sir!” he shouts as Kross catches the back of Rule’s head and slams his face into the table! The crowd goes wild as Déjà Vu put Ejiro belly-up on the table.

“And don’t worry sir,” says Kross to the reeling Ejiro as he and his tenacious twin step back towards the turnbuckles, “We will be back in a moment to serve you!”

The two quickly leap up the turnbuckles, flash a few signs at the crowd, and look at each other for a moment before Kris takes to the air, followed by Kross!

CRASH!

“HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!”

“Holy Jesus! They didn’t break that table, they atomized it! 418 pounds of man just crushed the hell out of Ejiro Fasaki!”

“What the hell type of service is THAT?!” is all that Riley can cry in response.

Rolling off their foe, Déjà Vu gasp for some air themselves but it is Fasaki who seems to be in the most severe amount of trouble. Lying on top of three shattered pieces of table, Fasaki can feel the welts already rising on his back as he prays for some air to enter into his crushed lungs. Rolling up to their feet, Kris and Kross look at their handiwork with some actual pride for a moment before they turn their attention to the more recent additions to the ring. On the other side of the battlefield, Wildchild and Johnny shaken off Kross’ plancha, and as the two rambunctious twins rise up they decide to pull out a ladder from underneath the ring. They toss it in and follow right after, and a four-way brawl erupts as two opposing forces battle for the means to achieve ultimate victory.

“And a brawl breaks loose!” calls out Stevens as the four men battle over territory.

Back and forth they go trading blows back and forth. On one side, Kris manages to waylay Wildchild with a swift poke right into the eye socket while on the other Kross provides no opposition to the martial arts mastery of Johnny Dangerous. Staggering the twin with a series of sharp jabs to the top of the head, Johnny quickly pivots and knocks Kross all the way to the mat with a stunning backhanded fist across the side of the face! Seeing this even through his blurred vision, Wildchild immediately grabs Kris around the body and pulls him strait down to the canvas with a tie up.

“Brilliant move by Wildchild,” calls out Stevens, “He’s giving Dangerous a chance to win this thing!”

And Johnny takes advantage by pulling the ladder to the center of the ring and setting it up right underneath the hanging tag team titles. But before he can get up even that far, a bloody Judge Hearford reaches out from outside the ring and grabs Wildchild by the ankle and pulls him all the way out to the floor, freeing the struggling Kris from the Bahama Bomber’s grasp! Seeing this, Johnny races up the ladder and wraps his hands around the precious gold for just a moment before, suddenly, he no longer has a leg to stand on! Having been freed from Wildchild’s grip, Kris dives at the ladder and knocks it out from underneath the spy and leaves him hanging precariously fifteen feet in the air!

“Oh look a piñata!” calls out Riley as Johnny struggles to unhook the belts without tumbling to his doom below.

Kris looks up at Johnny for a moment with a face of “Dude…” (Translation: What a bugger! He was supposed to fall!), and quickly he pulls his brother back up.

“Brah, what the HELL do we do?!” he says frantically as Johnny struggles a little, trying to pull the titles down. The creative Kross, though, only takes a second to think of a solution as he grabs his brother and brings him over to the ladder. Kris instantly gets the hint, and they lift the ladder up and aim it like a lance at the dangling super-spy.

“CHARGE!” the twins yell in unison, and they run forward with the massive ladder up in the air....

CRACK!

“HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!” chants the crowd as the edge of the ladder collides with Johnny’s extended chest and knocks “The Barracuda” from his precarious perch and all the way to the hard canvas below! He rolls over to the side while the twins slap each other five for the good work.

While the twins eliminate Johnny, Hearford yanks Wildchild by the ankle to the outside of the ring. With a rage-filled face after being busted open, the Judge looks down at Wildchild and prepares to… Take a kick to the face! Wildchild puts his other foot right into the Judge, allowing him to escape his grip. The circus performer scrambles up to his feet and narrowly ducks a wild lariat from the big man! The crowd cheers as Hearford quickly spins around and is met the taste of foot as Wildchild hits a hard superkick!

With Hearford briefly out of the way, Wildchild slides back into the ring where Déjà Vu has already begun setting up the ladder for the big climb. The twins jump off the first few rungs to make it a two on one…

CRACK

But someone has something to say about that.

“Ejiro just DECKED Kris with an elbow!” says Grand Slam in amazement while the unlikely pair of Wild and Rule begin assaulting the two twins, “Christ, I’m surprised he was even able to get back up after being utterly crushed by those two thrill-seekers!”

“You have to give him credit for being a sponge for pain. He’s like a punching bag that you can throw everything at before it pokes you in the eyes and makes you tap out.”

The two worst enemies take different directions as they hammer the twins with forearms and elbows, and with a combination Screaming Elbow/Stepping Side Kick that sends both twin to the outside. The two turn around, and stare at each other and the ladder standing in the middle of the ring, and the crowd begins to rise in anticipation of the fight to come!

“Oh boy, if there isn’t enough history between THOSE two,” says Grand Slam as they get ready to make their opening moves, “These two make the World War I look like a 3rd Grade Temper Tantrum.”

With that, the two charge at the ladder! Wildchild actually runs up the ladder, going two and three steps at a time as he tries to beat Ejiro. Fasaki knows he can’t beat him in speed, thought. Instead Ejiro runs in and leaps in the air for a drop kick! His feet connect with it at an angle, and the thing begins to tip as Wildchild nears the top and leaps…

Flashbulbs go off as the Bahamian takes flight towards the belts…

He gets a finger on it…

He gets two….

But that’s about it his digits slip right back off and the man comes down, trying to land on his feet. Wildchild does it, but the pressure on his legs is too much and he crumbles forwards as Ejiro slowly gets back up from the dropkick with a shit-eating grin. Wildchild rolls to the outside holding his leg, and Ejiro begins to follow him… but a hand pulls him back and right into a shotei as Johnny Dangerous is back in black!

Suits, that is.

“And Dangerous takes over as his partner takes a break. Wildchild didn’t look like he took that fall too well…”

“I’m sure he didn’t. That’s what happens when you get all high flying in a TLC. We all know you should stick to mat wrestling.”

“Mat Wrestling? How does that work?”

“… Um… It’s TOO much for ye of little wrestling talent to understand. Now let’s look back to the match…”

Looking back, Justice gets off the ground, blood trickling down the back of his neck and staining his nice shirt. He shakes his head and looks around, noticing something quite disturbing: Kris and Kross coming at him from either side, chairs in hand!

“AHHH!”

“!”

With that, two twins make a Perfect Conchairto (2st Sweet, Brah-ms 1st Symphony), crunching the veteran’s cranium between two steel plates! The Judge falls right to the ground, and Déjà Vu give him each a parting chair shot before rummaging under the ring.

“Well,” says Grand Slam with a grin, “For a former Hardcore champion, The Judge sure doesn’t look too comfortable in there.”

“Ah, screw you, Déjà Vu, and their stupid pop music…”

The two rummage, pulling out another table and throwing it onto the ground while Ejiro and Johnny trade a few shots in the ring. Suddenly, a smile comes across Kris’ face, and he pulls Kross over.

“DUDE!”

“We are SO using this…”

With that, the two excited doubles pull out the mother of all ladders! The crowd gives a huge cheer as the 20 foot tall super ladder makes its first appearance of the night, and the twins begin to set up the table.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no…” repeats Riley as the twins pull Hearford onto the table and begin to set up the ladder.

“Oh YES…” corrects Grand Slam, and Kris begins to climb up the ladder…

… But Kross stops him.

“Brah, I don’t think so. I found it, I use it.”

“This is NOT the time to argue, brah.”

“Only because YOU are the one jumping!”

Kris gives a frustrated sigh. “Okay, Rock Paper Scissors.”

“One!”

“Two!”

“Three!”

Kris:{_}

Kross: \/m

“DAMN IT!” says Kross as Kris pumps his arm in victory and quickly begins to scale the ladder

“… Idiots. Just… Idiots.” is all Riley can say as Kris climbs to the top of the ladder and flashes a few fingers signs to the wild crowd. And in an instant, he soars through the air, doing his jackknife dive as he hurtles downwards…

… and through an EMPTY table!

“YES! The Judge rolled off!” shouts Riley Kris gives a big moan, and Kross just gives a look of “Dude.” (Translation: I’m quite happy that wasn’t me).

Meanwhile, in the ring Johnny is able to gain the upper hand in the striking battle against Ejiro. He hits a quick shotei combo and goes for his knock-out Spinning Backfist… But the much shorter Fasaki ducks under it! The Sarasota Cobra slithers out of the way and underhooks the standing Johnny. He takes only a moment as he takes his near leg and kicks Dangerous’ out, STOing Johnny right on top of the fallen ladder! Dangerous curls his body in pain and Fasaki pushes him of the top of the ladder with his foot. He pulls it to the center of the ring and begins to set it up.

“Ouch. Fasaki uses that ladder to make an STO almost a finishing move.” notes Grand Slam as Ejiro puts it up in the center, and after making sure it’s all ready, begins his ascent up to a chorus of boos.

But someone notices this: Kross. He looks over to the ring to Ejiro take his first step up the ladder and looks down at ‘Judge Mental’ and Kris, neither of whom are going to be going anywhere fast.

“Brah, don’t go nowhere. I’ll be right back…” he says as he dives into the ring to the sound of cheers. Ejiro looks down at him with a frown and continues to try and climb up the ladder to the top. The rookie grabs hold of the ladder, and rather than pushing it over, he thinks for a second and chooses to go up the other side!

“And it’s a race to the top!”

“Go Ejiro, you stud!”

“…”

“You know, a stud. Like horse racing.”

“Sure…”

But try as he might, Ejiro isn’t fresh enough to beat out Kross. He gets to the top only moments before Kross, allowing him to get the first punch on the kid. The rookie holds onto the ladder with an iron grip, and takes another punch from Ejiro.

“I think Kross has frozen up,” says Grand Slam, “With his brother out and him up there all alone, I think he may having some second thoughts.”

“Figures. I knew these ‘Wild Kids’ were just fakes. WUSSY!”

“… Spiders.”

“AHHHHH!!! WHERE?! WHERE!?”

As Riley nearly jumps out of his seat, Kross takes another punch which puts him down a few steps on the ladder. Ejiro smiles and takes his chance, reaching up for the belt that’s just a few feet away. Kross shakes his head once, and nods to himself, and begins climbing again. Ejiro sees him and rolls his eyes for a moment… which makes it that much easier for Kross to nail him right between the eyes! The crowd explodes, and Ejiro shakes his head and fires back! Kross takes it, and shakes it off, nailing Fasaki again, and he goes up another step as he socks him in the face again. Rule barely hangs on after being clocked in the nose again, and Kross takes a chance. He puts on a facelock, tosses Ejiro’s arm over his neck, and mutters something:

“Damn, I hope I’m doin’ this right…”

With those words he pushes off the ladder, propelling Fasaki off the ladder and through the air! But this isn’t a normal Superplex…

“Oh dear God…” says Grand Slam as he watches Kross come off the ladder and get more distance than usual. His fears become obvious as Kross’ head hits the ropes and Ejiro goes plummeting to the outside! The crowd gives a stunned gasp Fasaki makes it over the other side of the ropes and goes

ALL

THE

WAY

D

O

W

N

T

O

T

H

E

FLOOR!

“KROSS! KROSS! KROSS!” is the chant that arises as the new superstar gets up off the canvas and looks over at his work.

“Jesus Christ! That was the Superplex to end all Superplexes!”

“Figures the first technical move he ever busts out has to be huge!”

The stunned brother gives a “DUDE” face (Translation: I have never seen a dead man before.) as he looks down at the lifeless body of Ejiro, and quickly turns around to see Dangerous getting back up to his feet.

“Man, this shouldn’t be hard,” he says to himself, “I just took out one guy, another won’t be a problem…”

As he says that, he sees a limping Wildchild sliding in.

“Aw crap.”

Wild and Dangerous finally reunited, the dynamic duo charges forwards at the lone twin but Kross fights back! He nails each of the oncoming attackers with a punch and to a mix of cheers and boos he holds them back alone!

“Amazing! Kross may have just crippled Ejiro Fasaki and now he’s holding off Wild and Dangerous all by himself!” shills Mark as Kross throws another punch… that’s blocked by Dangerous, who throws off a quick shotei-shotei kick combo.

“Well, that didn’t last long…” says an unimpressed Bobbie Riley.

The two fan favorites pummel the lone brother with shoteis, forearms, and kicks, and Kross put to the ground with the amount of blows. Suddenly, Johnny gets an idea, and he taps on Wildchild’s shoulder to tell him to keep an eye on Kross. Dangerous slides out of the ring and searches under the apron before pulling out a table to a throng of cheers.

“Well, I guess being the only real team left standing they can do some showboating…” say Stevens as Dangerous shoves the thing into the ring.

“I can only hope that somehow, Flesher willing, all three of those guys in the ring get put through the table.”

Wildchild gets the plan and he pulls Kross over to a corner while Johnny quickly pulls out the table’s legs and sets it up near the corner. They pull Kross up and Dangerous goes under him, putting him on his shoulders. While he raises him up, Wildchild climbs up slowly onto the turnbuckle. He puts his hand on the back of Kross’ head and leaps forward over the table as Johnny falls forwards! Wildchild clears the table while Kross’ body is put right through it, and the crowd gives a massive pop!

“Dangerous Drop! Dangerous Drop! Another man gone and it looks like Wild and Dangerous are going to be the new tag team champions!”

While Kross learns what plywood tastes like, the blood Judge staggers up from the big conchairto he took earlier. His blurry vision allows him to see Kross going through the table, and not seeing Ejiro anywhere, he knows he only has one option. He goes over to the busted table next to him and actually helps up the still lying down Kris to his feet! Kris cocks back his fist to attack, but Hearford stops him.

“Boy, if we fight now those two win the titles and we both lose,” he says as quickly as possible, “We team up and we stand a chance.”

“Dude, we can’t win the titles together,” says Kris distrustfully, “What the hell happens when they are gone?”

“We’ll settle that when we get there,” he says, growing impatient, “Well?”

Kris doesn’t answer, and Dangerous and Wildchild begin to get back up to their feet.

“Do you want to lose?!” he shouts at the rookie, and Kris puts his fist down and goes towards the ring.

“Let’s do this, old man.” He says, and the two rush into the ring as Wild and Dangerous begin to step up the ladder!

“It looks like we have a tentative alliance between Kris and Judge Hearford!” says a surprised Mark Stevens as the two pull Wild and Dangerous off the ladder and begin hammering them with punches!

The two pairs begin to brawl, and Kris is pretty well matched against Wildchild, exchanging punch to forearm. The fight between Johnny and Judge, though, is much different. While Hearford was able to get the first few power shots in, Dangerous has comeback to his old self, parrying most of the incoming punches and responding with hard chops and kicks. The tired Judge falls backwards from the blows, and sits up against the ropes as Dangerous takes a chance and begins to ascend the ladder.

“Dangerous is making another break for it!!” shouts Stevens as Riley gives a look of dismay.

“No! No! We can’t have a fricken James Bond wannabe as a Tag Champ!”

Kris doesn’t notice, though as he battles Wildchild back towards the ropes, and with one big rush adrenaline rush decides to send them the Bahamian and himself over the top with a Cactus Clothesline! The two land on the floor, and Hearford stumbles back up to his feet. Seeing Johnny going up the ladder and the other two eliminated for the moment he moves over to the other side of the ladder and begins climbing himself!

The crowd begins to start a “Let’s Go Johnny! *Clap Clap ClapClapClap*!” chant as he gets close to the top while the Judge is stuck half way up. He is still about a foot out of reach and carefully decides to go up another step or two. Hearford pushes himself as fast as he can, though, and Dangerous decides to give him a punch to the face. The Judge grimaces, but knowing what’s on the line he pushes through it, getting at Johnny’s level and socking him one! Johnny gives Hearford another shotei and a third, but Hearford refuses to be denied, and he gives Dangerous a hard shot to the temple. Johnny shakes his head for a moment, but that’s all the Judge needs as he locks on a ¾ Headlock at the top of the ladder…

And leaps off the side with Dangerous in tow! The crowd watches as Hearford lands on his back and snaps Johnny’s neck right on his shoulder, and Dangerous is left twitching on the canvas while the Judge holds his back in pain.

“Incredible! The Judge actually gave Johnny a Surprise Witness off a LADDER.”

“I hope whatever agency Johnny ‘works for’ has a good health plan. He looks like he just infiltrated his way into a hospital bed…”

Hearford slowly rises again and sees Kris coming back into the ring. He looks over at him and doesn’t even hesitate as he puts him on the ground with a big lariat. He gives a confident smile as he gives him a few boots to the head. He pulls Kris up and opens his mouth to say something to him…

WHACK!

But Wildchild comes in from behind, nailing Hearford with a flying forearm! The Bahamian picks Hearford up and Kris stops Wildchild from doing anything, standing up and whispering him something. Wildchild smiles and nods, and he hands Kris the Judge and the double whips him at the ropes. Coming back, the rookie twin takes the old veteran and puts him up in the air… right as Wildchild grabs his head for a DDT! The Judge’s head is drilled into the mat, and the crowd goes absolutely berserk!

“GAVEL BANG! GAVEL BANG! And it looks like the Judge’s court is now adjourned!”

“NO! NO! THEY CAN’T TEAM UP LIKE THAT!”

“I didn’t see you against Judge and Kris teaming up…”

“That’s different!”

“Why?”

“…”

“Well?”

“… Because it just IS, okay!”

The two look at each other and take up a handshake… though it doesn’t last long as both of them nail each other on the cheek with their free hands!

“Well, that didn’t last long,” notes Grand Slam as the two begin trading blows with each other. Kris throws out a flurry of punches to take the advantage and he tosses Wildchild at the ropes. He gets ready to catch Wildchild with a superkick, but the Bahamian ducks under it! Wildchild comes back off the rebound and leaps into the air, nailing Kris with a Hurricanrana! He gets up, but the crowd starts to shout at him about something, and he turns around…

CLANG!

… and right into an Ejiro Fasaki chairshot!

“I can’t believe it! Fasaki is still alive after that superplex, and somehow he’s standing up in the ring!”

“Not only that, Grand Spam,” says an ecstatic Riley, “But he’s the last man standing in the ring! No one to oppose him!”

Fasaki, breathing hard and his head bobbing back and forth, looks down and the downed Wildchild. He frowns, then scowls at him, crushing his knee with the side of the chair. The crowd boos as Wildchild yells out in agony, and Ejiro goes over towards Kris, who is trying to rise up. He takes the broad side of the chair and slams him in the back of the head with it, and the rookie goes down like a shot. With that, Ejiro throws the chair away and goes over to the ladder to start the long climb up.

“He’s in the clear! Justice and Rule retain!” says Riley as Ejiro continues his agonizingly slow ascent up the ladder.

But Wildchild just won’t stay down, rolling over onto his belly and pushing up off the ground. He wobbles a little as he gets up to his feet, but the crowd’s chants push him over towards the ladder. Ejiro, nearly halfway up, tries to increase his speed as his arch enemy begins to push upwards despite his bad legs. Ejiro reaches the top steps, and begins to reach out for the title, but Wildchild is only half way up.

“Wildchild is nearly there, even after the chairshots!”

“No way! Ejiro’s at the titles! It’s over!”

Ejiro tries to reach up again, but his just out of reach. He goes up a few more steps, and now Wildchild is right at his level! The crowd is roaring, cheering as the two longtime enemies throw punch after punch at each other, trying to knock the other off!

“This is it!” yells Grand Slam, “No where to go but to the titles!”

The two trade punch after punch, neither refusing to give up at this point in the match. Ejiro nails Wildchild with a hard punch and reaches out for the titles, but Wildchild does the same right back, and the two are dead even.

“God damn it, WC,” says an angry Riley, “Gi-What the hell!?”

The crowd gives a cheer as Kris, barely conscious after the chair shot, begins to stand. He wobbles from side to side, and he falls over, pushing over the ladder with Wildchild and Ejiro on it!

But both men hang on!

“They both grabbed the titles!”

“What!? That’s not supposed to happen!”

Kris falls over, too tired to get up while the two men hang in the air, weakly kicking around. Ejiro tries to kick Wildchild away, but his body is too tired to lift his legs up to WC, and the Bahamian tries desperately to get the titles unhooked…

… And gets just what he wants as the two go plummeting to the floor!

SLAM!

The two hit the ground with a thunderous smash, and the two men lie on the ground, motionless. The crowd is in uproar as a few referees rush down the ramp while the bell rings.

*DING DING DING*

“What happened? Who the hell won?”

“That’s for the refs to decide, Bobbie.”

The zebras rush the ring, getting in and looking down at Wildchild and Ejiro, both still holding onto the titles. They look at each other, discussing a few things. One shakes his head and shrugs before one slides out and goes to the time table. He talks with the Funyon for a few moments before the ring announcer speaks up.

“Since both of the men came down with the titles at the same time, the match is declared a DRAW! But since neither of the challenging teams won, it’s been decided that Justice and Rule will retain their belts!”

The crowd gives a mixed reaction of boos and chatters while we go over to Grand Slam and Bobbie Riley.

“Well, that was certainly a hard fought battle there…” says Grand Slam, “But through a technicality, Justice and Rule are able to retain their belts, despite a close, close battle.”

“All that matters is who hold the belts in the end,” remarks Riley, “No matter what you want to call it, if you keep your belt you pretty much won.”

“I’d agree, but we’ll see how this all turns out on Storm. Stay tuned, people, because next up is World Champion Tom Flesher defending his title against Frost and TNT, and that’s a match no one wants to miss!”

*FADE OUT*

May 5, 2003

Fade back in on the Pepsi Center in Denver, Colorado. Fans are on their feet cheering, anxiously anticipating the long-awaited main event in which Tom Flesher, TNT and Frost will square off in a three-way dance. The crowd, getting restless, starts a “CHILLY CHILLY!” chant on one side, which the opposite side answers with “BANG BANG!”

“CHILLY CHILLY!” “BANG BANG!”

Meanwhile, fans are shown on the SmarkTron holding up signs including “FLESHER FEARS FROST,” “TNT = DYNAMITE,” and more than their fair share of “FROST IS PARTY!” The fans, many wearing army fatigues, cheer, chant and generally work themselves into a Frenzy as Funyon steps into the ring, looking dapper as ever in his camouflage tailcoat and yellow ribbon cummerbund.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he says, “it is now time for the final contest of the evening. It is your main event. It is a three-way dance. It is for the SWF HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP of the WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORLD!!!!!!!” Funyon waits for the inevitable pop to die down, and then says, “The first challenger…”

Silverish pyro explodes from the rafters as the opening chords of “Snowblind” by Black Sabbath ring out over the sound system, and the crowd goes absolutely wild. A pale blue spotlight bathes the entrance stage and what appears to be snow flutters down from above. As the lyrics start, Frost steps through the curtain to a huge pop. He holds one fist high in the air to acknowledge the fans who cheer him on like crazy. He stops to blow a thick ring of smoke through his Frost Brand Cigar, then continues his slow walk to the ring.

“Bobby,” says ‘Grand Slam’ Mark Stevens, “can you believe the reaction that Frost is getting from this Denver crowd?”

“Of course I can,” replies Tom Flesher’s #1 fan, clad in his standard PPV attire of a powder-blue ruffled tuxedo. “These fans are nothing but sheep. As long as he’s got a spiffy t-shirt, they’ll cheer for him and buy them by the thousands.”

“You don’t give these fans much credit, do you?”

”Hey, do they cheer Frost and boo Flesher? Case closed.”

Frost reaches the ring and stops to drop his stogie onto the concrete floor. He grinds it out with his heel before climbing the stairs into the ring. He steps in, and Funyon announces, “From Reykjavik, Iceland, and weighing in at 296 pounds, he is FROST!!!!!!!!!”

Frost raises his fist once again, drawing a pop from the crowd, before the music dies down and he slides out of the ring in deference to his tag partner.

A power chord rips through the Pepsi Center, followed by a drumbeat, and the fans begin to chant along with the OI! OI! OI!s of ACDC’s “TNT.” As the lyrics begin, TNT steps through the curtain, looking unbelievably focused and simply staring out at his fans. They cheer for him, and he acknowledges them with a nod and a raised fist as the song blares in the background….

’cuz I’m TNT!

I’m Dynamite!

TNT!

And I’ll win the fight!

TNT!

I’m a power load!

TNT…

WATCH ME EXPLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOODE!!!!!!!!!

With that, TNT starts down the ramp.

“And it looks like Taylor Thompson is getting just as nice a pop from the crowd as Frost did,” says Stevens. “Bobby, both of these men are incredibly popular with the fans, and I’m sure the crowd would be thrilled to have either of these men go home with the World Heavyweight Championship.”

“Yeah. Too bad Flesher’s going to send them all home sad, isn’t it?”

“I wouldn’t be so-”

“Too bad for them, I mean. I’m expecting my ticket to the victory party, personally.”

TNT enters the ring as Funyon announces, “The second challenger, from Anaheim, California, and weighing in at 266 pounds, he is a former SWF World Heavyweight Champion…. he is Taylor Nicholas Thompson… T… N… T!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

TNT steps up onto the second turnbuckle of the nearest ringpost and throws his arms into the air, letting out a “KABOOM!” and getting the crowd to answer back with a “KABOOM!” of their own. The music fades out, and TNT steps down, then out of the ring.

Funyon announces, “And finally, making his way to the ring…”

The SmarkTron glows a gleaming white, and the words “SUPERIORITY COMPLEX,” “MAGNIFICENT SEVEN” and “WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION” fade onto it in thin blue lettering. Then…

BOOM!

With an explosion of blue pyro and smoke, Led Zeppelin’s “Kashmir” begins to play over the sound system. Tom Flesher emerges from the cloud of smoke, clad in his standard blue warm-up suit, with his head tilted back and a cocky smirk on his face. As he strides to the ring, he pauses halfway down the aisle and pulls off the warm-up top, revealing the SWF Title wrapped around his waist. He strips off the warm-up pants and flings them to the side, strutting to the ring.

“And here’s the man who’s sending us all home happy!” says Riley. “Man, Mark, can you believe how lucky we are to be even in his presence tonight?”

“You really don’t want me to answer that.”

“Oh, come on. Everyone knows that deep down you have a Superiority Complex. Let it show, Stevens!”

“I’d rather let TNT and Frost beat the superiority complex right out of him tonight.”

Flesher climbs up the stairs, conspicuously wiping his Doc Martens off on the apron before entering the ring and posing in the center just in time to catch the symphonic hook. Bursts of pyro go off from each corner, lighting up the arena, and as they die down, so does the music.

Funyon announces, “Ladies, gentlemen, Frost and TNT, the man who stands before you tonight is no ordinary human being. No, not by a long shot.”

Stevens murmurs, “Got that right.”

Funyon continues, “Tonight, he’s going to find a way to overcome adverse booking, an AWOL stablemate, and pair of very angry short bus riders. How can he do that? Why, it’s simple. He’s superior… so bow down before the one man who will beat both Chilly and Bang tonight, bow down before the 213-pound, Buffalo, NY, native who’s going to teach two mental midgets what the Magnificent Seven is REALLY all about… bow down before your SWF WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION, the SUPERIOR ONE, TOMMMMMM FLESHERRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!”

The fans boo loudly, and a few empty beer cups come flying at Flesher, who dodges them adeptly. He golf-claps for himself briefly as Funyon exits and referee Mark Hebner enters the ring. TNT and Frost enter as well as Flesher unstraps the title belt, then stop to kiss it before handing it to Hebner. The official holds it in the air, then calls for the bell.

DING DING DING!!!!!

Frost and TNT talk it over, and Frost steps back out of the ring, leaving TNT in the ring with Flesher. The two square off in the center, TNT in an aggressive posture and Flesher back in an amateur stance. TNT steps toward Flesher, but Tom shoots in and grabs his ankle! He levers TNT to the mat, then drops an elbow into the side of the former World Champion’s knee. TNT tries to pull his leg back, but Flesher keeps his grip on the ankle and segues into a spinning toehold. As he turns to face TNT again, he twists and drops his elbow into TNT’s knee once again. TNT jerks back, but Flesher simply stands up and boots him in the hamstring, then grabs the other leg and crosses it over! With a lightning-fast step-over, Flesher gets TNT nearly turned over into the Superior Stretch! The fans begin to boo loudly, but before Flesher can sit into the hold, the challenger kicks his legs forward and simply throws Flesher off! The crowd pops, and Thompson rolls over into a seated position. Flesher bounces up and throws a sitdown dropkick at TNT, who simply moves out of the way! Flesher hits the mat hard, and Thompson takes advantage of his momentary stunned state to get to his feet and position himself so that when Flesher gets up, all he has to do is grab his head and thigh. TNT arches backwards and throws Flesher overhead and onto the back of his neck with an Exploder! The fans pop for his signature move as Flesher gets back to his feet. He turns around, disoriented, and TNT nails him over the head with a bionic elbow! Flesher collapses to the mat, and TNT dives onto him for

ONE!

TWO!

KICKOUT!

Flesher kicks out easily but rolls away, trying to catch his bearings after the unexpected assault. TNT, meanwhile, just struts over and tags Frost.

“After TNT sets the tone for this match, Tom Flesher does everything he can to avoid another beating! Bobby, this is going to be great!” gushes Mark Stevens.

“Bah, speak for yourself,” grumbles the colour man. “He got lucky, is all. The Superior Stretch is unbreakable! If he’d gotten it locked, TNT would have been done for.”

“If you’d done your homework you’d know that TNT has broken the Superior Stretch on at least two occasions, and that makes three. It’s going to take more than that to put him down, and besides, it was foolish to go for that this early in the first place.”

“You know as well as I do that any match can end at any time… just look at Flesher’s first defense against Frost!” says Riley, adding a “Touche!” for effect.

“Or the last match, when Frost and TNT stomped a mudhole in Flesher for the double disqualification.”

Flesher gets back to his feet as Frost enters the ring. Frost moves toward him slowly, not willing to chase the much-smaller Flesher. As he closes the distance, Frost puts up a standard boxing guard and shuffles toward Flesher, who backs away defensively.

”It looks like Flesher’s too cowardly to even go toe-to-toe with Frost,” says Stevens. “What a champ, eh, folks?”

“What, he’s a coward for not wanting to get into a narrow fight he can’t win? Last I checked, this was a WRESTLING show, and people are here to see WRESTLING, not boxing.”

Flesher finally gives up avoiding the battle and instead drops down to shoot a lightning-fast low single-leg takedown. He hooks Frost’s ankle much as he did in their last meeting, but once again, Frost is ready for the shot and grabs Flesher in a waistlock. He hoists Flesher into the air for a gutwrench suplex, but as he goes over, Flesher turns to face Frost and forces him back to the mat with a cross body! Mark Hebner counts

ONE!

TWO!

KICKOUT! Frost kicks out with such force that Flesher goes flying halfway across the ring! The Velvet Hammer gets to his feet an instant before Flesher, and as Tom gets up, Frost simply boots him in the stomach! With that, he grabs Flesher’s head and pulls him in for a suplex. He arches over, slamming Flesher’s back to the mat, and then steps away. As Flesher gets back to his feet, Frost takes hold again and once again throws Flesher to the mat with a snap suplex! The fans cheer once again as Frost backs away, not wasting energy on a cover yet but stepping back, ready to throw Flesher down once more. Flesher gets up and Frost locks on the front facelock, but this time Flesher hooks Frost’s head and leg and rolls into a small package!!!!!

ONE!

TWO!

NO!!!!!!

Frost breaks the small package and rolls to his knees, looking slightly miffed that Flesher managed to catch him again in the move that cost him his chance at the SWF World Title two weeks earlier. He only has a second to look miffed, though, as Flesher gets to his feet and boots him stiffly in the chest! Caught by surprise, Frost leans back, and Flesher charges forward and nails him with a Yakuza kick! Frost falls to his back, but before Flesher can cover him, the Icelandic Giant rolls away and tags TNT back in! The fans cheer for the once-again fresh Taylor Thompson as he enters the ring, staring Flesher down.

“I love this!” says Riley. “These two schmucks can’t do a damn thing to Flesher! He’s frustrating both of them and all they can do is tag in and out and hope to get lucky!”

“Oh, come on,” sighs Stevens. “Frost and TNT are taking turns wearing Flesher down. There’s no one in this building who thinks Flesher can withstand that kind of assault, especially once Frost unveils TFDB.”

“That’s right!” says Riley. “You told me that you’d tell me what that stands for today! Come on, let’s hear it!”

“Not yet,” says Stevens.

“Come onnnnnnnnnn,” whines Riley. “I really wanna know!”

“I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

Flesher looks over at TNT, who simply stands in front of the corner, staring at Flesher. He seems to beckon Flesher toward him, and Flesher moves toward him, staying defensive and trying to avoid getting caught with a big move. He gets to be face to face with TNT… then steps right past him, slapping Frost on the shoulder! Frost raises an eyebrow, not expecting the tag, and TNT simply shakes his head as if to say, “I don’t believe this.” Hebner ushers Frost in as Flesher steps out of the ring, tapping his temple in a satisfied manner.

“And Taylor Thompson and Frost square off for the first time in this match!” says Mark Stevens, sounding pleased. “Which one of them wants it more?”

“Whichever one has the sense to feed the other one to Flesher for the tap,” says Riley.

“Get your head out of your ass,” says Stevens in an uncharacteristic loss of temper. “There’s no way that TNT AND Frost are both going to go down to Flesher. Not while they’re working together like this.”

“Well they’re about to stop working together, boy-o!”

Frost and TNT stand toe-to-toe, mouthing a few words at each other. As Flesher leans on the cornerpost, happy to be out of the ring, the two Chilly Chilly Bang Bang members stare each other down… then turn to the corner and each grab Flesher by one arm! The crowd cheers as they flip Flesher over the top rope, then whip him to the opposite side of the ring! As he rebounds, they join hands and nearly take his head off with a double clothesline! Flesher does a full backward roll, landing on his stomach. Frost leans down to turn him to his back, and TNT reaches in to try to stop him… but backs away at the last second, letting Frost get the cover. Mark Hebner counts

ONE!

TWO!

THRE- NO!!!!! Flesher gets a shoulder up, and TNT backs away into a corner.

“Well,” says Stevens, “I guess Frost and Flesher are now the legal men.”

“Only because TNT’s willing to do what Frost wants. How much longer do you expect THAT to go on?”

Frost grabs Flesher by the arm and once again whips him to the opposite side of the ring. Flesher bounces off and tries to duck under Frost, but the Scandinavian giant catches him and lifts him up as if for a powerslam! After stalling for a second, Frost leans back and throws Flesher over with the Barrel Roll slam! Flesher hits hard, grabs at his back and rolls out of the ring as quickly as possible to avoid any further attacking. Frost, however, follows right behind him.

“Flesher’s not finding any solace on the outside!” says Stevens. “Frost is staying on him! No way is he letting Flesher get even a breather!”

Flesher tries to move away, but Frost chases after him and grabs him to throw him back into the ring. Flesher, acting solely on instinct, hits a standing switch and ends up behind Frost. He realizes where he is and immediately charges forward, slamming Frost into the ringpost! Frost staggers back as Flesher wipes his brow, realizing good luck when he has it. Without missing another beat, he grabs Frost by the wrist and yanks him up, then whips him into another ringpost. Flesher follows behind, and as Frost hits the steel, Flesher slams into him with a Yakuza kick! The crowd gasps, still not used to the brutality of sandwiching the head between the sole of the boot and the hard steel, and Flesher merely takes a moment to breathe. He rolls Frost back into the ring, following behind in time to cover him for

ONE!

TWO!

THR- NO!!!!!! Frost, still a little woozy, nonetheless manages to get his shoulder up in time! The crowd applauds politely as Flesher steps back. Tom grabs Frost by the head and cockily throws him into the corner, standing him up just so he can rear back and bitchslap the Velvet Hammer.

“Ooh,” murmurs Stevens, “Frost isn’t going to like that.”

“Eh, he’ll take it like a man because he has to,” says Riley with a nearly audible smirk.

“What’s that big, dumb Scando gonna do about it anyway, Grand Spam?”

Flesher winds up and bitchslaps Frost again, smirking the whole time as if he was actually proving something by harassing someone who was still stunned from a Yakuza kick into the ringpost. He leans back, measuring Frost for a stepping shotei, when…

“Oh yeah! THAT’S what he’s gonna do about it!”

Frost reaches out and grabs Flesher by his neck with one hand! Flesher’s eyes widen to the size of dinner plates as he holds his hands up, trying frantically to beg off! Frost’s eyes fling open, showing fire and desire for the World Championship, and with that he winds up with his free hand and hammers Flesher across the face! Flesher’s head snaps back, but Frost holds him up by the neck and hits him again! Flesher tries desperately to escape, but he has nowhere to go when Frost lifts him into the air and slams him down to the mat with a vicious chokeslam! The fans cheer loudly as Frost stomps away at the barely-moving Flesher! Finally, he yanks his adversary back to his feet and lets him go, then spins backward for a uraken. Flesher ducks the spinning back fist and unleashes a hard double leg takedown that sends Frost crashing to the mat! Frost instinctively rolls to his stomach to avoid being pinned and Flesher drops onto him like a ravenous animal. He immediately slides down to go for a crossface, but Frost takes advantage of his leverage and sits out. He stands up, levering Flesher to his feet and then whipping the World Champion’s arm over his shoulder in a judo-style shoulder throw! With a boot to the head for good measure, Frost draws a huge pop from the crowd!

“Amazing!” says Mark Stevens. “Frost has such a solid background in amateur wrestling and boxing. He can hit you with anything from any position, and counter just about anything you throw at him.”

“Of course, he’s also unable to tie his own shoes without saying the rhyme out loud.”

“Jesus, Riley, when are you going to admit that Frost is intelligent? He’s got a Masters in Philosophy, for god’s sake.”

“Simple,” says Riley defiantly. “That’s Flesher’s field. Frost must have gotten his degree before Tom revolutionized the whole system. There’s no way he could even understand the theories now.”

Stevens rolls his eyes. “Theories like…?”

“Well, like the Taamocentric theory of the universe, in which he proves that the universe revolves around him. Or Flesherian geometry, which denies the existence of the neck.”

Frost drops in behind Flesher and wraps his arm tightly around Flesher’s neck, which does exist despite any protestations to the contrary, locking on a tight reverse chinlock. Flesher immediately begins to gasp for breath, looking for a way out. He reaches around with one hand to try to peel Frost’s hands apart, but just can’t do it. Frost tightens the lock, and Tom grimaces. Mark Hebner drops in and asks, “You want to give?” Flesher tries to yell “NO!” dramatically, but just makes a pathetic squeak. A small, slightly sadistic smile spreads across Frost’s face as he holds Flesher’s neck, and Tom reaches up with both hands now to try and break his grip. He struggles, and Frost keeps his grip as tight as he can until Flesher starts to attack each individual finger, finally peeling the hands apart and controlling the wrist. Tom rolls to the side and before Frost knows what’s happening, Flesher locks on a triangle choke! The fans boo loudly, seeing Frost fighting the hold and begin to chant, “FROST! FROST! FROST!” The Velvet Hammer, starting to turn red from the triangle choke, does the only thing he can do… he slides his legs in under his body, stands up, and sends Flesher crashing to the mat with a stiff power bomb! The crowd pops for Frost’s power, but the Icelander takes a few moments just to shake off the effects of the choke, and rather than go for a cover, he tags in TNT.

“Well, it looks like Frost is feeling the effects of that triangle choke,” says Mark Stevens. “It’s fairly amazing that Flesher’s been able to control the pace of this match as much as he has.”

“Only to you.”

“But as he takes more of a beating, you have to expect the near-falls to come faster and faster, and soon Flesher will be out of the picture entirely.”

Frost stays in the ring, however, as TNT enters and begins laying the smack down on Flesher. Flesher starts to push up to his feet, and TNT releases hammering forearm blows across Flesher’s back, sending him straight back to the mat. TNT stomps at Flesher, then lifts him back to his feet and releases a sickening Mongolian chop across his neck! Flesher collapses, and Frost starts a round of applause for his partner.

“Now this is what they need to be doing,” says Stevens. “It’s been shown on numerous occasions that Flesher can beat Frost and TNT alone, at least most of the time, but with them teaming up on him, the only thing that matters is whether Frost or TNT will go home with the belt.”

“And that’s going to be their downfall,” says Bobby Riley. “Frost is too dumb to take TNT out before he makes a cover, and TNT’s too emotional to think things through. Hence the untied shoelaces.”

“His boots are tied, Bobby.”

“Ah, but I made you look, didn’t I?” Riley taps his temple and smirks.

As Stevens mutters, “You are so… god damn… weird,” TNT once again lifts Flesher to his feet. Frost positions himself behind TNT as the Explosive One whips the champ to the ropes. TNT catches him on the rebound and throws him overhead with a Railgun suplex! Before Flesher hits, Frost catches him and slams him to the mat with a sit-out power bomb! The fans burst into cheers at the innovative double team move, and Mark Hebner slides into position.

ONE!

“HEY!” says Riley. “LOOK AT TNT!”

TWO!

Sure enough, TNT’s expression is one of betrayal. He looks stunned and sickened that Frost was waiting to make a cover, but holds himself back from breaking up the cover.

THRE-

NO!!!!!!!!! Flesher gets a shoulder up, and the match continues!

“Oh, MAN! TNT’s pissed at Frost!”

“You’re right, Bobby, TNT is NOT pleased!”

“Too stupid to break up the pin, though.”

Frost slides out of the ring, his damage done, and TNT looks down at the barely-breathing pile of Flesher. He looks back up at the corner, mentally measuring the distance, and grabs Flesher by both arms. He drags Flesher about six feet further from the corner, and THEN covers him.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE-

NO!!!! Shoulder up!

“TNT doesn’t get the fall,” says Mark Stevens, “but you have to look at what he did beforehand. It’s almost like he doesn’t trust Frost enough to make the pin anywhere near the corner!”

”Well come on, would you? Frost is an egotistical, self-centered, self-important asshole,” says Riley. “He’ll do anything to get his own way, up to and including breakling up a pin by his own tag partner.”

“And yet,” says Stevens sarcastically, “you’ll notice that he somehow restrained himself.”

TNT leans down and picks Flesher up as if for a spinebuster, then rams him hard into the nearest corner! Flesher cries out in pain as TNT hits him with a hard backhand, and another, and another! He leans his head back and holds up his hands, trying to block the assault, and finally TNT just knees him hard in the stomach. He moves toward the center of the ring, ready to charge in for a Burning Lariat. He runs in at top speed, and BAM! Flesher gets his boot up and nails TNT with a kick to the face! Thompson staggers backwards, finally falling onto his back as Flesher stumbles out of the corner, still disoriented. He flops flat onto TNT, and Mark Hebner has no choice but to make a count!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE- NO!!!!!!! TNT gets his shoulder up! Flesher kneels on top of him, shaking off the cobwebs, before rolling to the side and getting to his feet. TNT gets up half a beat later, but Flesher is already waiting for him with a dropkick to the knee! TNT spills back to the mat, and Flesher grabs the left leg again, unloading kick after kick into the hamstring, frantically trying to keep his adversary on the mat. He’s already sweaty and exhausted, obviously having a tougher time of this match than either of his opponents. Expending as little energy as possible, he continues kicking the back of TNT’s left thigh until he gets his wind back. Then, he drops the left leg and grabs the right, applying a spinning toehold and falling into a figure-four leglock! The fans begin to boo loudly, unhappy that Flesher is getting any kind of advantage. Flesher, meanwhile, just relaxes in the hold, trying to keep TNT in pain as long as possible. TNT, meanwhile, writhes in pain, trying to reach the ropes. Flesher sits up, propping himself up on his hands and watching TNT intently for any sign of weakening. The former World Champion, for his part, stays looking tough despite Mark Hebner asking over and over again if he wants to submit. He tries to grab the ropes, but just can’t reach the last few inches.

“It looks like Flesher might end the match right here!” says Riley. “Man, would that be sweet!”

“You have to wonder what’s going through Frost’s mind right now,” replies Stevens. “He may well be watching his chance at the SWF World Title go down the drain if TNT isn’t tough enough to hang through the figure four.”

Frost looks over at Flesher’s relaxed smirk, and at TNT wincing in what was little more than a lucky grab by Flesher, and decides he has to do something about it. He leaps off the apron and walks around the ring to where TNT is reaching for the ropes. He leans into the ring and locks hands with Taylor, then uses all his strength to yank both men six inches closer to the ropes! The fans applaud Frost’s ingenuity, and TNT grabs the ropes and hangs on for dear life. Mark Hebner administers his five-count, and Flesher dutifully breaks, having gotten a much-needed breather. Taylor Thompson starts to his feet, but stumbles a bit when he puts weight on his left leg. It doesn’t present much of a problem, though, and he’s soon back on his feet. He moves to the center of the ring looking to grab Flesher for a suplex, but Tom ducks behind him and slides by into German suplex position. He lifts the 266-pound Thompson and tries to throw him, but TNT reaches down and hugs the mat in the classical counter! When he stands back up, he hits a standing switch and ends up behind Flesher, ducking his head under to go for a backdrop suplex! He starts to arch up, but Flesher tightens his grip around TNT’s head, feet planted firmly on the mat. TNT tries to throw him once again, but Flesher keeps the headlock and immediately slides into a side headlock takeover for

ONE!

TWO!

THRE- NO!!!!! TNT ROLLS HIM THROUGH!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE- NO! Flesher rolls over onto his BUTT and keeps the side headlock tight, satisfied with forcing TNT to use up all his energy breaking it. He forgets, however, that TNT is much, much stronger.

“TNT, not liking the side headlock,” calls Mark Stevens. “He slides his legs in under him, and… WOW!”

In the blink of an eye, TNT lifts the unsuspecting Flesher off the mat and slams his back and shoulders into the mat as hard as he can with a backdrop suplex! Flesher does a full backward roll and finally comes to rest on his stomach as TNT sits up, taking a deep breath and collecting his thoughts. He gets up, deciding to go with the smarter move rather than the safer one, and tags out to Frost.

“Interesting choice of strategy there,” says Mark Stevens, not quite sure what to think. “TNT is looking to conserve his energy by tagging out, it seems, and he brings Frost back in.”

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” gloats Bobby Riley.

Frost enters the ring just as Flesher starts back to his feet. He grabs the World Champion and lifts him into the air with ease, as if he were lifting a five-pound sack of flour, and simply dumps him onto the top turnbuckle with no trouble at all. With that, Frost shouts, “TFDB!” and the crowd pops like a cherry on prom night.

“TFDB!” says Stevens. “Oh, this is gonna be good. It’s gonna be REAL good.”

“What the HELL does that stand for? You’re killing me here!”

“After he hits it, Bobby. After he hits it.”

Frost starts up the ropes, but Flesher kicks him away to try and save himself. Frost continues his climb, but Flesher simply rains down enough palm blows on him that Frost backs down to try again. Flesher grabs his head and starts to turn him around to go for the Ego Trip, but Frost refuses to be turned the whole way. Instead, he reaches up, grabs Flesher at the head and crotch, and pancakes him to the mat with a Beel throw! The fans pop for the move, and Frost acknowledges them with a nod.

“Well, Frost has certainly been doing his homework,” says Mark Stevens. “That was a Beel throw, named after its originator, Fred Beel. That move hasn’t been used very much lately, but it was one of the more deadly oldschool moves. Fine choice by Frost.”

“Yeah, the airplane spin was oldschool, too. You don’t see everyone and their brother using that, either.”

Frost grabs Flesher and bends him over, clubbing him over and over with forearm blows to the back. Flesher drops to one knee, wincing and grabbing at his back, but Frost simply picks him back up and continues hammering him. Finally, Flesher collapses back to the mat, and Frost pauses. The crowd applauds, and once again, Frost acknowledges them with a nod before grabbing Flesher and lifting him to his shoulders.

“What was that about the airplane spin, Bobby?”

“I believe I was telling you to shut the hell up.”

“Mmm hmm.”

Frost starts spinning around, with Flesher on his shoulders in a fireman’s carry, and the crowd begins to applaud and chant his name. As the “FROST! FROST! FROST!” chant continues, the cheering and clapping get louder, and Frost spins faster and faster! He turns around, finally reaching top speed with his airplane spin, and then stops abruptly, letting Flesher fly off and crash to the mat due to the centrifugal force! Frost staggers toward him, obviously dizzy due to the spin, and stumbles onto him. Frost doesn’t cover, though, having to take an extra minute to stop the spinning sensation. In that time, Flesher manages to get up and pull himself to his feet on the ropes, moving away from Frost and toward TNT. As Frost gets his bearings again, Flesher finally makes the choice… and slaps TNT on the hand!

“What a coward!” says Mark Stevens.

“Well, come on,” says Riley. “Given the choice, what would YOU do?”

“Touche,” murmurs Stevens.

TNT steps into the ring, staring down Frost. Frost raises an eyebrow, not sure exactly why TNT is so angry, but the two lock up nonetheless. After struggling for a few seconds, Frost shrugs out of the lockup and moves toward the corner. TNT watches him warily, and as soon as Frost makes it to the corner he slaps Flesher back into the ring. Flesher sighs, refusing to go back into the ring for another round of beatings, but Frost simply grabs him by the head and throws him back in, leaving him for TNT.

TNT grabs Flesher and throws him to the mat back-first. Rather than going for a pin, however, the Explosive One grabs both of Flesher’s legs and starts to force him over into a Boston crab! Flesher fights hard, trying to stay on his back and block TNT stepping over, but TNT is simply too powerful. Before too long, TNT has Flesher on his stomach and sits back into the crab hold, bending Flesher’s back against its natural curve. Flesher winces, trying desperately to kick TNT off, but it’s just not going to happen.

“Flesher’s simply not strong enough,” says Mark Stevens. “Sure, TNT can break the Superior Stretch, but he’s got 50 pounds on Flesher, all muscle.”

“Yeah, but look at Flesher. He’s toned!”

“TNT’s Boston crab is just too much for Flesher to break with power alone. The question then becomes, can he get to the ropes?”

Flesher stretches out, the ropes just out of reach. Because of the painful hold, Flesher can’t move very well, but he lunges toward the ropes nonetheless. Taylor Thompson tries to hold him back, and for the most part succeeds… but Flesher starts rocking from side to side in the crab hold! TNT looks a bit confused, right up until Flesher’s torso slams into his left knee! With that, TNT loosens the hold reflexively, and the Superior One grabs the ropes! The challenger releases the hold, and Flesher hugs the bottom rope until Mark Hebner ushers him away. With that, Flesher finally gets back to his feet.

“Inventive counter by Tom Flesher,” Stevens says.

“Inventive? Mark, my good man, that was REVOLUTIONARY! Stop the presses, Tom Flesher has invented a new way to counter a Boston crab! Write this down! I call it the Flesher Fish Flop!”

“Don’t you sometimes think you get TOO excited, Bobby?”

“You CAN’T be too excited when you’ve got someone like TOM FLESHER in the ring! He just brings out the best in every one of us!”

“You’re such a dork.”

“If liking Tom Flesher makes me a dork, then I! AM! A DORK!

“And there you have it.”

Flesher steps toward TNT. TNT reaches in for a lockup, but Flesher steps back and drops in to grab his left ankle for another low single leg! TNT stays on his feet this time, and so Flesher stands up, still holding the leg tight to his chest. Quickly, Flesher swings his leg behind TNT’s right foot, taking him to the mat with a textbook leg sweep! As TNT hits the mat, Flesher does a somersault, pulling TNT’s leg over his body and nearly snapping the hamstring in the process! Taylor Thompson pulls the leg close to his body, but the damage is already done, and Flesher looks down at him with a smirk.

“Flesher’s just an animal with that leg,” gushes Bobby Riley. “He looks like he’s going to rip it off, take it home and grill it for the victory party. Mmm mmm, braised shank of loser. I think I have a recipe for that somewhere.”

“That’s VERY premature, Bobby.”

“Much like your relations with Mrs. Grand Slam, eh?”

Stevens, speechless, says nothing.

Flesher reaches down, grabbing the fallen challenger by the head. Getting cocky, he lifts TNT to his feet and whips him into the corner. TNT hits hard, and nearly collapses into the corner. Much as TNT did to him earlier, Flesher steps in and whacks TNT across the face with a stiff palm strike. TNT reels backwards, but Flesher simply whacks him with another shotei! The World Champion steps backwards, almost to the center of the ring, and starts his charge into the corner. He lifts his boot up for a Yakuza kick...

TNT DUCKS! Flesher kicks the turnbuckle and his leg gets stuck on top of it! TNT slides out around Flesher and, while the Superior One tries to uncatch his leg from the ropes, TNT simply grabs him from behind in a waistlock and throws him backwards with a German suplex! Flesher lands hard on his shoulders, and the referee counts

ONE!

TWO!

THREE- NO!!!!!! Flesher rolls through, and TNT falls out of his bridge. He rolls over, but without missing a beat, grabs Flesher by the back of the head. He pulls Flesher to his feet and ushers him out of the ring, throwing him over the top rope to the concrete! The fans, seeing what’s about to happen, jump to their feet and begin to cheer.

“I think we all know what’s about to go down here,” says Mark Steven with a grin. “Tope con fuse-o!”

“That was horrible, Mark.”

“I don’t see you doing any better.”

TNT sprints across the ring, bounces off the ropes, and just as Flesher gets to his feet, the Explosive One leaps over the top rope, as if suspended on a string from the heavens, and flies at him! Flesher tries desperately to mime that he’ll catch TNT, but can’t move fast enough to get out of the way, and all 266 pounds of TNT hit him at a terminal velocity! Flesher falls to the mat, cushioning Thompson’s fall. TNT, for his part, sits up and grins.

“Well, he certainly turned the tables on Flesher there, didn’t he, Bobby?”

“I’ll say. What an ungrateful bastard Taylor Nicholas Thompson is. Tom was standing there, perfectly willing to catch him and let everyone be happy, and instead TNT decided to just slam into him and take him to the concrete. Just unbelievable.”

“Bobby, sometimes I wonder if you’ve ever watched a single match Tom’s wrestled.”

“I watch them every night!”

“I mean WITHOUT staring at the back of his singlet.”

Riley glares. “You know, Mark, this is how rumors get started.”

“It’s hardly a rumor.”

“Can’t a man be a Flesher fan without being gay?”

“I suppose, but that would entail him NOT searching for nude Flesher photos on the company server.” Grand Slam turns to the camera. “That’s http://swf.theleafnode.org/, for all your SWF surfing needs!”

On the outside, TNT grabs Bobby Riley’s favorite wrestler by the singlet straps and slides him back into the ring. TNT looks around, makes sure he’s nowhere near Frost, and covers Flesher. Mark Hebner counts

ONE!

TWO!!!!

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

Mark Hebner nearly calls for the bell, but stops when he sees a Doc Marten boot draped over the bottom rope! The fans groan as TNT, looking utterly defeated, starts toward the corner. He dejectedly tags in Frost, saying “Work him over a little more” just loud enough for the camera to pick it up.

“Well,” says Stevens, surprised, “that’s a change in strategy.”

”TNT decides he can’t beat Flesher,” replies Riley boredly. “Whoop de do. Well, one down, one to go.”

Frost stomps into the ring, looking satisfied at Flesher. As Tom pulls himself to his feet using the ropes, obviously worn down by the beating he’s taken nearly nonstop for the whole match, Frost simply charges at him and crushes him with a shoulder block! The fans pop for Frost’s total disrespect for the World Champion, and when Flesher gets back to his feet, Frost coaxes another pop out of them by doing the same thing! Flesher lays on the mat, not even moving and breathing shallowly. Frost picks him up like a rag doll and puts him over one shoulder as if he were going for a running power slam. Instead, Frost walks over to the corner at a leisurely pace, then lifts Flesher up a little higher and drops him face-first across the turnbuckle with the Snake Eyes facebuster! Flesher lands and collapses down onto the mat, landing on his knees holding the turnbuckles. Frost simply kicks him in the back and steps beck to wait for him to get back to his feet.

“Simple, sheer brutality by Frost, and you have to expect him to end this one soon,” says Stevens.

“If he can,” says Riley, completely illogically.

“Why don’t you think he can win?”

“He’ll choke. You just watch.”

Stevens chuckles. “You may be more right than you know.”

“What? What what what?”

“Oh, nothing.”

Flesher gets to his feet, and Frost grabs him from behind. Just as TNT did earlier, he tightens the waistlock and arches backwards, slamming the World Champion shoulders-first to the mat with a German suplex! Instead of holding him for the fall, however, the Velvet Hammer lets Flesher go, and grabs him for a spinebuster. Instead of slamming Flesher, though, Frost sets him on the top turnbuckle, and then pumps his fist in the air to rile up the crowd.

“Is this going to be it?” says Riley nervously.

“I think this is it in more ways than one, Bobby.”

“TFDB?”

“TFDB.”

Frost starts his climb, but Tom Flesher instinctively fights him off with a kick to the chest. Knowing it’s coming, Frost blocks the kick and reaches up, slapping Flesher across the face to keep him still. With that, he starts his climb up the turnbuckles again, but the World Champion starts to block him by grabbing his hair and kneeing him in the face! Frost steps down to the mat, and Flesher leaps off the top rope! He grabs Frost’s waist on the way down and lands sitting, completing the sunset flip! He holds Frost for

ONE!

TWO!

NO!!!!!!! Frost rolls out of the sunset flip, and Flesher backs into the corner before the Icelander can do any more damage. Frost gets up, and as Flesher gets to his feet in the corner, Frost charges at him! Flesher instinctively lifts a knee, catching Frost right in the face! Frost staggers backwards, and Flesher throws him into the corner. With that, Flesher boots Frost stiffly in the chest once… then twice… and then staggers out of the corner, falling flat on his face.

“Flesher takes charge for a few moments, but it looks like getting beaten on for the whole match is just too much for him!” says Mark Stevens. “I don’t see how he lasted this long, personally.”

“Oh, he just lasts and lasts and lasts.”

“Well, it looks like he’s going soft right about now.”

“Oh, grow up, Stevens.”

Frost gets to his feet as Flesher starts to push himself up once again, looking for his second wind. Frost makes his way to the corner and tags in TNT. TNT steps back into the ring, and Flesher looks up at him with fear in his eyes.

“God, Riley, how much more of this can Flesher take?”

“He’ll take as much as he needs to,” Bobby snaps. “I don’t care what it looks like now – he’s going to win tonight, come hell or high water.”

“You really are naïve, Bobby. You really are.”

TNT comes at Flesher, who can barely move… but finds a way nonetheless to kick at TNT’s leg. The challenger avoids the kick easily and reaches down to grab Flesher… who kicks him in the stomach and shoves him away! TNT, getting annoyed, grabs Flesher again, only to take another boot to the stomach! This time, Flesher cocks his leg and unloads a hard boot to TNT’s kneecap, taking Thompson straight to the mat! Flesher uses the ropes to pull himself to his feet, still exhausted from the beating he’s been taking all match, and grabs TNT’s leg. TNT tries to pull away, but Flesher drops an elbow into the side of the knee and sends shockwaves of pain up and down his leg. Tom stands back up, not wasting another second. He crosses TNT’s legs and locks up the cloverleaf hold, stepping over and securing the Superior Stretch for the second time in this match!

“OH MY GOD!” shouts Riley. “SUPERIOR STRETCH! SUPERIOR STRETCH! THIS ONE’S OVER!”

“Right in the center of the ring,” agrees Mark Stevens. “I’m not sure what TNT can possibly do with this.”

“HE CAN TAP OUT LIKE THE LITTLE GIRL HE IS,” screams Riley. “TAP OUT, LITTLE MAN! TAP!”

Mark Hebner drops down to ask TNT if he wants to quit. TNT winces, and lets a small “No…” go, straining to try and reduce the pain somehow. Hebner stays down, asking, “Are you sure?” TNT pauses, grimacing… and finally kicks both his legs out, throwing Flesher off again using only his own brute strength.

The crowd, simply put, explodes.

“Can you believe that?!” says Stevens. “TNT’s not going down to the Superior Stretch! Not tonight! Not now! Not EVER! Tom Flesher CANNOT hold him!”

“Pfft. He got lucky.”

”Oh, GROW UP! Tom can’t win every match, Bobby! You just have to accept that this is one he’s going to lose!”

Flesher, flustered, gets up. While TNT lays on the mat trying to collect himself, Flesher stalks over to the corner… and tags in Frost.

“And here’s the question,” says Stevens. “When these two square off, which one will end up in better position to take the win? Frost? TNT? We’ll have to watch and see!”

Riley says nothing.

Frost steps into the ring and reaches down, almost sardonically giving Taylor Thompson a helping hand up. TNT stares at him, not grateful for the help, wanting only to get the win and go home. Frost, relatively fresh, stares down. TNT lets his emotion get the best of him and shoves Frost backwards! The crowd lets loose with an “oooooooo!” Frost regains his balance, glaring at his tag partner and adversary… and opts to be diplomatic, tagging Flesher back in.

“Heh heh heh,” chuckles Riley. “Pussy.”

“Well, that’s one theory,” says Stevens, “or he could just be conserving his energy to pounce on the pin when he gets the chance.”

Flesher, looking dejected and barely able to continue, stumbles back into the ring as a small smile crosses TNT’s face. Flesher, not sure what to do, just staggers forward and into a lockup. Steven mutters, “Foolish,” while TNT grabs the Champion and throws him to the side with a sickening body slam. Tom stays down, not wanting to move any more than necessary, and TNT just lays the boots to him. Thompson finishes the sequence with an elbow drop, and Flesher lays still. TNT smells blood, and leaves Flesher in the center of the ring. He runs to the ropes, looking for his jumping elbow drop for the pin! As he bounces off the ropes… FROST SLAPS HIS SHOULDER, TAGGING HIMSELF IN!!!!!!!!! The crowd bursts into a chorus of boos as TNT stops in his tracks, looking confused and betrayed. He stares at Frost, who calmly enters the ring and grabs Flesher’s lifeless body.

“What a creep!” says Stevens. “This may be every man for himself, but Frost is just leeching off of TNT’s hard work!”

“Hey, you’re the one who’s always talking about how smart he is,” replies Riley, always the Devil’s Advocate. “I personally disagree, but hey, I could be wrong.”

TNT stares at Frost, who merely shoves him out of the way and grabs Flesher by the head. He completely ignores the former World Champion as he carries the limp body of the Superior One to the corner and sets him on the top turnbuckle.

“Well, at least one good thing’s going to come out of this.”

“What’s that, Stevens?”

“TFDB.”

“Awww, fuck.”

Frost calmly climbs up the top rope, while TNT just gets angrier and angrier. He holds himself back, but he gets so tense that he visibly starts to shake with rage. Once he reaches the top rope, Frost grabs Tom Flesher by the neck with both hands…

“You’re right, Bobby. He IS going to choke this match, and choke hard.”

“Shut up.”

… and lifts him into the air, then turns around and almost slams Flesher through the mat with a spinning chokeslam off the top rope!!!!!!

“TOM FLESHER is a DOUCHE BAG!” screams Mark Stevens at the top of his lungs, suppressing a giggle. “And I’ll say it again! TOM FLESHER IS A DOUCHE BAG!”

“WHAT THE- OH MY- JESUS CHRIST!” sputters Riley. “I can’t believe he’d- god!”

“That’s right, folks. This match is about to end because of Frost’s super-secret move, Tom Flesher is a Douche Bag.”

“Shut up, SHUT UP!”

“Bobby, I’m just calling the match, and it so happens that the move Frost just executed is indeed called Tom Flesher is a Douche Bag.”

“WAUGH~!”

Frost stays on Flesher, covering him for

ONE!

TWO!!!!!

THREE!!!!!

NO!!!! TNT pulls Frost off! The crowd pops loudly as TNT stares at Frost, who looks up calmly but still obviously irritated. Flesher, meanwhile, simply rolls away.

“And TNT is NOT happy!” says Mark Stevens. “This is unbelievable! These two have avoided fighting all night, but the tension has just reached a tipping point, and they’re going to go at it! Bobby, can you believe it?!”

“Meh.”

Leave it to Riley to no-sell the turning point of the match, because it doesn’t involve Tom Flesher.

They stare each other down, the tension so thick you could cut it with a knife when…

BAM!

TNT nails Frost with an elbow to the jaw! Frost staggers backwards as the former World Champion unloads another elbow, and another, until he finally forces Frost to strike back with a rock-hard right hand! Frost slams another fist into TNT’s face, forcing him backwards, and finally Frost takes control with his hammer-like fists smashing into TNT’s head, face and body, over and over again, backing him into the corner! Once TNT has nowhere to go, Frost steps back, intense but still sparing his friend a further beating. As he steps back to give Taylor breathing room, the smaller of the two pauses… THEN POPS FROST RIGHT IN THE NOSE! The fans cheer, and Frost staggers backwards!

“That was a sucker punch!” says Mark Stevens. “These two are friends! Why go to those lengths?”

“It’s all about the belt, Stevens. Nothing YOU’D know anything about.”

Pause.

“I DID win it twice, Bobby.”

“Oh yeah? Find someone to back that up. Your mother doesn’t count.”

Frost and TNT strike back and forth, with Frost once again getting the advantage. He slams fists and forearms into TNT’s head, forcing him back into the corner once again. This time, Frost rears back and slams a stiff back fist into TNT’s cheek! Half the crowd cheers the extra punctuation mark on the assault, and the other half boos it as an unnecessary excess. TNT grabs his cheek, staring hurt and angry at his mentor. Frost backs away once more, giving TNT breathing room and space to give up… but this time, TNT vaults himself onto the bottom turnbuckle and leaps forward, crashing into Frost with a flying forearm! The crowd pops for him, and Frost falls backwards, caught off guard! TNT covers him for

ONE!!!

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

THREE- NO!!!!!!!! Frost gets a shoulder up! Tom Flesher, meanwhile, lays on the apron by the cornerpost, barely moving, and half-watching with a glazed stare. TNT backs away, waiting for Frost as he gets up to his feet. As soon as Frost is back up, TNT steps in, grabs him by the head and thigh, and throws him overhead with a sickening Exploder! Frost hits the mat hard, neck-first, and comes to rest on his back. TNT drops onto him, unloading an elbow on his face for good measure. Frost comes to, blocks another elbow, and reaches up to pop TNT in the nose as payback! Taylor Thompson, though, is so intensely focused on winning the match that he completely ignores the effect of the punch and slams another elbow onto Frost’s head! Frost’s eyes glaze over, and TNT covers him for

ONE!!!

TWO!!!!!!

THREE!!!!!!!!!!

NO!!!!!!!!!! Frost gets a shoulder up at the very last moment, avoiding the pin and keeping TNT from commencing his second reign as SWF World Heavyweight Champion.

“Jesus Christ!” says Mark Stevens. “These two are just laying into each other, and Taylor Nicholas Thompson’s emotion and adrenaline are helping him get the better of Frost! How much more can Frost take?! How long will TNT’s second wind hold out?!”

“Where the hell is Flesher?!”

Tom Flesher is still on the outside, now not laying but rather leaning on the cornerpost. His chest is still heaving, but now he clearly isn’t going to let the match finish without his involvement.

Frost stares up at TNT, glaring, and arches up to throw the Explosive One off. TNT falls forward, rolling out, and Frost gets to his feet quickly. TNT charges at him, and Frost catches him for a scoop slam! TNT bounces back up, but Frost is right there waiting to lift him up and sit out, slamming TNT headfirst to the mat with the Snowplow! Stevens gasps, “Sickening Northern Lights Bomb,” as Frost rolls over onto TNT. Flesher starts into the ring, but can’t make it in and nearly collapses on the ropes. Mark Hebner counts,

ONE!!!!!!

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

THREEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

NO!!!!!!!!!! TNT throws one arm up, getting his shoulder off the mat with Mark Hebner’s hand only inches from the mat!!! The crowd gasps, in utter disbelief as to how the two workers can be as tough as they are. TNT, meanwhile, is still shaking from the adrenaline coursing through his body. He shoves Frost off and sits up, while Frost clotheslines him back down. He tries to cover, but TNT pulls the arm off and sits back up, slamming a fist into Frost’s face. He stands up, punching the kneeling Frost in the face once more to keep him stunned. He then lifts the Velvet Hammer to his feet and whips him to the ropes. On the rebound, he grabs the polar bear around the waist and throws him to the mat with a Railgun suplex! He looks down, debating a cover… but instead rolls Frost to his stomach, sits onto his back, and grabs Frost’s head for the Short Fuse camel clutch!

“Well that was stupid,” says Riley. “Why not just pin him?”

Stevens coughs. “Well, for one, TNT hasn’t been able to pin Frost. It only makes sense to go for a different way of winning the match, especially with Frost getting to be as fatigued as he is. Taylor has a move he doesn’t break out very often, and maybe Frost wasn’t ready for it.”

“Eat me.”

TNT sits back, with Frost wincing and grimacing. He lifts his hand to tap… but pulls it back at the last second. Tom Flesher’s eyes open wider, and he realizes what’s happening. Frost reaches out to tap again, but once again decides not to at the last second. Just as he reaches out a third time, Tom Flesher runs in and blindsides Taylor Thompson with a Yakuza kick! TNT falls to the side holding his head, Flesher stumbles backwards from the recoil, and Frost simply flattens out. Flesher grabs the hefty Icelander by the shoulder and rolls him onto his back, covering him for

ONE!!!!!

TWO!!!!!!!!!

THREEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

NO!!!!!!!!!!!!! Frost KICKS OUT! “SOMEHOW,” shouts Mark Stevens, “SOMEWHERE, Frost is finding the energy to kick out of anything and everything TNT and Tom throw at him! This is incredible!”

Flesher, glazed over, stays on top of Frost without any clue what else to do. Frost rolls away, grabbing a breather in the corner as TNT gets his senses back and grabs Flesher by the head. Quickly, he lifts Flesher up and slams him back to the mat with a snap power bomb!!!! He lets Flesher flatten out, then covers him for

ONE!!!

TWO!!!!!!!!

Mark Hebner doesn’t even have time for Three as Frost steps in, grabbing TNT in a waistlock and pulling him right out of the cover! He arches back, throwing TNT out of the pinning predicament with a German suplex! TNT rolls through as Frost covers the still out-of-it Flesher for

ONE!!!!!!

TWO!!!!!!!!

NO! Once again, Mark Hebner is taken out of the picture entirely as TNT drops in to break the pin with a falling elbow drop! Frost rolls off, and Flesher merely stays still as TNT clubs Frost’s back over and over again with forearm blows! The fans go absolutely crazy! And through it all, the camera focuses, just for a moment, on Tom Flesher. He doesn’t move… but his eyes are open, his gaze clear.

“Bobby… he’s playing possum.”

“SHH!!!!! They’ll hear you!!!!”

Frost stands up, fighting through the pain as TNT clobbers him relentlessly. Frost fights through it, gritting his teeth to no-sell the pain, and finally faces Thompson. TNT glares at him, winding up to unleash one last haymaker… but Frost blocks it! He sweeps the arm to the side, avoiding the blow, and slams his sledgehammer-like fist into TNT’s chest with the Touch of Frost! TNT collapses to the mat, and Frost covers him for

ONE!!!!!

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

THREE- NO!!!!!!!!!!! “OH MY GOD!” screams Riley. “YAKUZA KICK TO BREAK IT UP! RIGHT IN FROST’S TEMPLE! OH MY GOD!”

“Flesher breaks up the pin, and he’s back in this one!”

“NOW WHO’S THE DOUCHE BAG? TFDB! TFDB! THE FROST IS A DOUCHE BAG!!!!!!!!”

Frost rolls off, and Flesher looks down at TNT… but, just as TNT didn’t pin Frost and opted for the camel clutch instead, Flesher knows that covering TNT at this point just won’t do any good. Instead, he grabs the man with the short fuse and throws him to the turnbuckle, then charges in with a running palm strike.

“I think we all know where this is going!” gloats Riley. “Get your beer and get your shot, let’s do a Boilermaker baby!”

Flesher lifts TNT up, but not without some difficulty. In the background, Frost gets to his feet, but staggers around without any aim. Flesher, meanwhile, scrambles up the ropes and stands on top, grabbing TNT in a front facelock. He starts to fall backwards for the Boilermaker, but TNT hooks his legs under the top rope to keep from being lifted. As Frost comes in behind Flesher, Tom tries again, but TNT once again holds to the rope instinctively. Flesher releases the facelock, and Frost steps up onto the bottom rope. He grabs Flesher around the waist, ducks his head under the arm and falls backwards, slamming him to the mat with a backdrop suplex off the first rope! Frost tries to hold Flesher for the pin, but the Superior One rolls through and flops onto his stomach. Remembering his adversary, Frost stands up and looks up to the corner. TNT leaps off the top turnbuckle, soaring toward Frost with a flying forearm! The Velvet Hammer sees it coming, though, and dodges it, letting Taylor Thompson crash harmlessly to the mat! With that, he grabs TNT as if for a gutwrench and lifts him into the air. Instead of slamming him to the mat, however, he holds him up and cracks his back over one of his massive shoulders in a hanging body vise.

“Frost locks up the Icelandic Backbreaker,” says Mark Stevens. “TNT’s taken a beating in this match, and you have to wonder how much more of this he can take.”

Frost rocks TNT back and forth on his shoulder, trying to get him to submit. No matter what, though, TNT refuses. He winces. He grits his teeth. His face is screwed up (in more ways than one, but in this case it shows his pain). Still, he refuses to give in! Finally, Frost gives up on the body vise and simply dumps Thompson forward, slamming him to the mat in an over-the-shoulder power bomb variation! TNT hits the mat hard, almost entirely on his neck and shoulders, making a loud crashing sound that makes even the toughest veterans in the locker room cringe. Frost drops onto TNT, a look of satisfaction, but at the same time seriousness, on his face.

ONE!!!!!!

TWO!!!!!!!!

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

Mark Hebner nearly calls for the bell before he sees TNT’s far shoulder off the mat! Some of the fans groan, and some of them cheer, but all of them are feeling every move the wrestlers take. Everyone sees the emotion involved, and the refusal to give in.

Everyone wants to see whose heart will let him last long enough to crown the new SWF World Heavyweight Champion.

TNT rolls over to his stomach, disoriented and unable to do anything except reflexively stay off of his back. Frost shrugs, stepping back to let TNT make his own bed that Frost can force him to lie in. TNT manages, somehow, to stand all the way up. He wobbles, looking especially unsteady as he puts weight on his left leg. Frost smirks slightly, then locks on a cobra clutch. Zeroing in, he slams his leg forward, clipping TNT’s sore left leg out from under him with the Icelandic Leg Sweep! TNT hits face-first, his head bounces off, and Frost rolls him onto his back. However, even as he makes the cover, Tom Flesher climbs to the top rope. As Mark Hebner counts

ONE!

Tom raises his arms into the air. Mark Hebner’s hand slaps the mat for

TWO!!!!!!!!!

and Tom leaps of the top rope, then comes crashing down onto Frost’s back with his sickening flying headbutt! Frost grabs his back and rolls off TNT as Flesher rolls off, grabbing in pain at his head. TNT, still out of it, doesn’t move.

“Tom Flesher sacrifices himself to break up the pin!” says Mark Stevens. “Smart move in the short term, but how can he expect to win after that?”

Flesher rolls away, ironically just as Bobby Riley half-heartedly says his, “Simple. He’s superior.” line. Frost sits to the side, getting his head together much faster than Flesher does. Seeing an opening, he stands up and grabs TNT by the waist.

“He’s not going to-”

“You better believe he is, Marky Mark.”

Frost lifts TNT onto his shoulders like he was going for a running power slam, but everyone knows what’s coming. He carries TNT over to the corner and presses him up for the Snake Eyes facedrop… but TNT shifts his weight and slides down his back! He keeps Frost’s head, and before Frost even figures out what’s going on, TNT slams his melon into the mat with a reverse DDT! The fans cheer their hearts out as Taylor Nicholas Thompson overcomes the odds, the only conscious one in a ring full of the top the SWF has to offer! He stands up, still wobbly, and looks around. He can’t help but smile.

“Bobby, who would have thought it? After the battle, TNT is the only one standing!”

“Battle’s not over yet, boyo.”

May 5, 2003

TNT looks over and sees Tom Flesher, the man who beat him for the SWF World Heavyweight Title. Tom Flesher, the man who told him he’d never be good enough to get back in the Magnificent Seven.

Tom Flesher, that fucking prick.

TNT seems to forget that Frost is even in the ring. He stomps over to Flesher and grabs him by the head, bending him over for the Mushroom Cloud. He starts to lift Flesher, but pauses to shake out his knee. That’s all the opening Frost needs.

The Velvet Hammer charges at TNT, arm extended for a Hell Freezes Over lariat! The fans gasp as TNT throws Flesher to the mat, bailing out of his power bomb finisher to duck the vicious clothesline. After Frost’s arm goes whizzing over his head, TNT stands up and turns to face him. Frost, confused, doesn’t even look as TNT clobbers him in the back of the head with a sickening Burning Lariat! The fans go absolutely apeshit as Frost collapses to the mat!

“UNBELIEVABLE!” says Grand Slam, his voice hoarse. “TNT DUCKS HELL FREEZES OVER, AND NAILS A BURNING LARIAT! FROST IS OUT OF IT!”

TNT looks over at Flesher… and then over at Frost, already starting to stir again. TNT’s chest heaves, the adrenaline pumping through his veins. He knows what he has to do.

“NO!” screams Stevens. “NO, JUST GO FOR THE PIN!”

“He’s too STUPID!” says Riley, as TNT grabs Frost around the waist. He lifts him up, with a quick look over his shoulder for aim. As if in slow motion, TNT arches back, screaming with emotion as he expends every ounce of his energy to throw Frost over his head with a German suplex. Frost flies through the air, guided by TNT, and lands on the back of his head, right on the turnbuckles!!! The fans chant, “HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!” at the top of their lungs as Frost collapses into the corner, and TNT looks down at his tag team partner. He holds his hands in front of his face, looking numbly at them as if they’re covered in blood, and then looks back at the barely conscious Frost.

“Holy shit,” says Stevens, despite himself.

“Holy shit,” mutters Riley in agreement.

TNT looks down at Frost once more, and then looks out at the crowd. They cheer him on, knowing that it’s that emotion, that level of commitment that’s going to lead him into his second reign as SWF World Heavyweight Champion. They cheer unequivocally and unconditionally, screaming his name, chanting “TNT! TNT!” over and over again.

TNT smiles, and grabs Flesher to finish him off.

“This is it,” says Stevens. “It’s over.”

He bends Flesher over, ready to lift him up and slam him to the mat, sending a Mushroom Cloud onto millions of television sets across the world. He lifts Flesher… but the Superior One hugs the mat. TNT tries to lift him again, but before he knows what hit him, Flesher slams into him with a desperate double-leg takedown! Working only on instinct, Flesher crosses TNT’s legs and steps over, locking on the Superior Stretch! The crowd groans as Flesher sits back into the hold.

“NO!” shouts Mark Stevens. “This isn’t right! This just isn’t right!”

“Oh, come on! Flesher’s the better man and you know it!”

“But dammit... it’s… JUST WRONG!”

TNT kicks his legs, but Flesher sits back, jerking the sore left leg hard and pulling both legs back as far as he can. Taylor Thompson tries desperately to kick his legs forward, breaking the hold just as he always has… but he just can’t.

Frost’s eyes open lazily. He watches TNT. He watches Flesher pulling back with the Superior Stretch, and he watches Taylor Nicholas Thompson’s face grimacing in pain.

Frost tries to get up to help TNT, but can’t. The German suplex has him too stunned to do anything but watch.

Finally, TNT taps.

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

As the bell rings, Tom Flesher releases his hold. “Kashmir” blasts through the arena, and Flesher stands up. Soaked in sweat, he raises both arms over his head and poses. Mark Hebner leans out of the ring and gets the SWF World Heavyweight Title belt. As Flesher nearly collapses from exhaustion, Hebner hands him his belt. Tom Flesher straps it around his waist, then collapses to the mat.

Stevens and Riley each try to say something, but neither can find the words.

Flesher rolls out of the ring, staring at Frost and TNT. He knows that it was only luck and manipulation that allowed him to beat them. He turned them against each other. He can’t expect them to fall for that again, and he certainly can’t keep his streak against them alive based on luck and manipulation alone.

But it was good enough for tonight.

All I see turns to brown

as the sun burns the ground,

and my eyes fill with sand

as I scan this wasted land.

As “Kashmir” blares through Denver’s Pepsi Center, Tom Flesher staggers to the back, and SWF Battleground 2003 fades.

SWF Battleground, May 4, 2003.

“SWF: Raising Workrate By Typing Faster.”

May 5, 2003

RESULTS!

Damn. Just damn. A fine show, and fine efforts all around.

SWF BATTLEGROUND!!!

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