the.weej

Kevin Coyote is still in the ring as his match against Amy Stephens concludes, but as he starts to head back for the ramp, something catches his eye -- the sight of Longdogger Pete over at the broadcast table suddenly ripping off his headphones and getting out of his seat. "Pete?" asks Suicide King from his adjacent seat. "Pete, where the hell are you going? We're doing a show here!" Pete is out of his chair and quickly grabs a microphone from the timekeeper's table, checking it first to make sure it's on, then addresses his son in the ring. "COYOTE!" he hollers, but he already has the younger man's attention. "Don't you dare go anywhere. Not until I've said my piece." Coyote folds his arms in frustration, but doesn't leave the ring. He does, however, motion for Funyon to hand him back his jean jacket from outside the ring, which the ring announcer does. Pete climbs into the ring and continues to address Coyote. "You wanted to get my attention, Coyote? Well, now you've got it. You wanted to prove some kind of point? Well, you did." Coyote merely shrugs, then slips his jacket back on and he continues to listen. Pete takes a step toward Coyote, standing tall over the younger man. Pete has more than six inches on Coyote and the difference shows, as Pete looks absolutely imposing. "You proved to me," Pete hollers in Coyote's face, "that you're a little punk ass kid with absolutely no respect for this bid'ness!" Coyote just rolls his eyes, then mouths the word "business" to Pete, showing him the correct pronunciation of the word. Pete ignores this. "So congratulations," Pete continues. "You succeeded in your little sneak attack on me. And then, fittingly, you got yours in the parking lot last week. But you can forget about exacting revenge on William Hearford -- because right now, you've got to deal with ME!" Coyote puts his hands into his jacket pockets as he hears a ringing sound. He pulls his right hand out of his pocket to reveal his mobile phone, which he begins to flip open, but he is startled as Pete's hand lashes out, knocking the phone out of his hand with his own free hand. "Your girl can wait," says Pete. "As I was saying. You may not have wanted anything more to do with me, but now that you have my attention, you don't have a choice. So here's what I propose. We can sneak attack each other left and right until we're blue in the face and we both lose our jobs. Or... we can go about things the traditional way... by resolving our differences in the ring." "What?" hollers King. "Did LDP just challenge his own son to a match?" Before Pete can get another word out, Coyote pulls his left hand out of his pocket, revealing a set of brass knuckles. Coyote attempts to punch Pete with the knuckles, but this time, Pete sees it coming, and extends his right hand to grab Coyote by the wrist, halting the punch in midswing. Pete drops the microphone out of his left hand, and uses his hand to punch Coyote in the gut. Coyote doubles forward, then Pete grabs him by the midsection with both hands, dropping backward into a modified double arm DDT - Pete's own finisher, the Longdogger Clogger, to slam Coyote face first into the canvas. The audience cheers on this turn of events, and Pete looks around, soaking up the crowd as if for the first time. He smiles as they begin chanting. "L - D - P!" "L - D - P!" "L - D - P!" It's almost like old times. Almost. Pete picks up the microphone again and leans over the downed Kevin Coyote. "I await your answer... but hey. Take your time." Pete drops the microphone again, then picks up Coyote's mobile phone, placing it in the insensate Coyote's hand. Pete slides out of the ring, heading back toward the broadcast table. "Um... well, that's an interesting turn of events," says King as he awaits his partner's return. "We'll, uh... we'll be right back with our next match!"

“I don’t care about the risks,” Suicide King is shouting into a phone as we return to Storm, “I want Landon Maddix wrestling a Great White Shark on Lockdown! Look, we’ve done the octopus, right? We need to stay cutting edge! Why Maddix? Well-” “King!” LDP hisses, nudging his commentary partner in the ribs. King looks up, sees the red light on the camera and hastily tucks his phone away muttering ‘good thinking MacDougal - don’t want to clue the competition in’. Longdogger Pete opens his mouth to address the camera… …and is cut off by the opening of ‘I’m Alive’ by Disturbed! The Miami Menace’s face sets into a stony mask of anger as white lights start to flash, and in the ring Funyon looks over at LDP in an almost apologetic manner before raising the microphone to make his announcement. “Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall,” the veteran ring announcer booms, “introducing first, from Brunswick Georgia and weighing in tonight at 225lbs; this it KEEEVVVVVVIIIIIIINNNNNNN… COY-OOOOTTTT-EEEEEEEEE!!” “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” The Seattle crowd are not happy to see the smug grin occupying the face of Kevin Coyote as he saunters out onto the soundstage, phone still glued to his ear. The grin quickly fades and Kevin motions at the crowd with his free hand to ‘keep it down’, their noise apparently drowning out the person he’s having a conversation with. The fans do not oblige and Coyote says one last sentence into the mouthpiece, then snaps his phone closed and makes his way down to the ring while behind him the Smarktron happens to be showing clips of him beating the crap out of his father, Longdogger Pete. “A nice touch, that,” King remarks happily as the huge screen shows several replays of the first, brass knuckle-assisted punch that floored the Miami Menace, “and what a camera angle! Whoo, the production boys were on form that day, eh Pete?” “Fans, I’m not going to even try and call this match down the line,” the Longdogger says, ignoring the Gambling Man beside him, “because to do so would… well, it’d be impossible for me. I am sitting here looking at my own flesh and blood who only a few weeks ago I didn’t even know was related to me… and I despise him. Not for who he is or even for how he chooses to wrestle, but simply because of the fact that due to some grudge he holds against me he assaulted me during our reunion. He not only destroyed the joy that I had at being reunited with a son I never knew I had, but he put me in hospital!” “He must have a pretty good punch, because we all know how hard it is to make any sort of impression on your thick skull,” King snorts. “In fact, the only bad thing about the whole business was it meant I had to put up with Ben Hardy on commentary…” Kevin Coyote has handed his phone to the timekeeper David Blazenwing (with extended instructions on how valuable it is, not to touch it etc) and then leans over the top rope towards Pete, an ugly grin on his face. ‘How’s the head, dog? You doin’ OK down there, or should I come and see you again? How ’bout it?’ “Go on Pete, you can take him!” King sniggers. Longdogger Pete stares straight ahead, teeth grinding, and ignores his son. Coyote seems to take offence at that and starts to step through the ropes… but is cut off by the opening of ‘Blitzkrieg Bop’ by the Ramones! “…and his opponent,” Funyon booms as the crowd starts cheering, “from Nottingham, England; she weighs in tonight at 171lbs, this is ’The Punk-Rock Princess’, AAAAAAAAMMMMMYYYYYY… STEEEEEEE-PHENS!!” “YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” A few seconds later Amy strides out onto the soundstage with her can of lager in hand, takes a swig and then charges down towards the ring, slapping a few hands as she goes. The junior member of the Stephens clan then rolls under the bottom rope and mounts a turnbuckle, raising her can in the air and leading the crowd in a chant: “HEY! HO! LET’S GO!” “HEY! HO! LET’S GO!” “HEY! HO! LET’S GO!” “HEY! HO! LET’S GO!” As Joey Ramone launches into the first verse Amy drops back down to the canvas- *WHAM!* -but is Pearl Harbored from behind by Kevin Coyote! The real-life Ethan MacDougal slams a double axehandle into the back of Amy’s head, knocking her sprawling and sending her can of Stella skittering across the canvas and out of the ring! *DING-DING-DING!* “Yeah that’s right Kevin,” Pete roars in fury, “you can’t just sneak attack your old man, you have to get the jump on girls as well!” Kevin seems to hear Pete’s bellow and turns around to raise one hand in a mocking salute. Unfortunately for him he doesn’t see Amy Stephens getting back to her feet behind him, holding the back of her head. Amy turns around and points at Coyote just as he turns back to her… ‘THAT WAS MY BEER, FUCKWIT!’ …and the astounded Coyote has no time to react as Amy launches herself at him, taking him bodily down to the mat with a Lou Thesz press and then beginning to hammer him with right hands to the head! “YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “LET’S GO A-MY!” “LET’S GO A-MY!” Kevin tries to cover up under the assault but with only limited success, and he is more or less saved by Brian Warner when the referee reaches the end of his five-count for the illegal closed fists and hauls Amy off her opponent! Stephens isn’t deterred by this and shakes the ref off her, then starts putting the boot in on Coyote. Kevin tries to roll away from his antagonist but Amy pursues him, launching kicks and stomps at the retreating Georgian. “Amy, look out!” Pete suddenly calls, “he’s-” -at that moment Kevin Coyote suddenly drops his craven act and, with Amy off-balance as she kicks again, catches her foot and anchors it firmly against his side. Stephens staggers, and Coyote decides to add to her troubles by punching her in the gut! Despite being reasonably well ‘padded’ the breath still whistles out of Amy, and Coyote drops her foot to grab the doubled-over young lady and snapmare her over into a sitting position, then runs past her and rebounds back off the ropes to swing a boot and catch her full in the face! *CRACK!* “Goddammit!” Pete fumes, “that’s a lady in there, you asshole!” “Huh,” King snorts, “I’ve never met anyone less ladylike than Amy Stephens - stop getting your boxers in a wad Dogger, she can take care of herself.” Kevin grins, winces slightly as his right arm twinges from where one of Amy’s kicks caught him in the shoulder, then leans down and wraps both hands around Amy’s throat to start choking his opponent, much to LDP’s consternation! Brian Warner starts counting… ‘ONE!’ ‘TWO!’ ‘THREE!’ ‘FOUR!’ ‘FI-’ …and Coyote breaks off just before the disqualification point, grinning up at the referee. Warner just rolls his eyes and signals for the man from Brunswick to get on with the match… and Kevin goes back to the choke! ‘ONE!’ ‘TWO!’ ‘THREE!’ ‘FOUR!’ ‘FI-’ Once more, Kevin breaks off just before Brian Warner signals for the bell while Amy’s heels drum on the canvas as the Punk-Rock Princess is denied oxygen. This time Coyote doesn’t start choking again immediately; instead he grabs Amy by the hair and hauls her up -catching another warning from Warner as he does so- then twists his opponent around before sitting out with a neckbreaker! “Well Pete, what’s more encouraging for you?” Suicide King asks, “that your son enjoys choking women, or that so far Amy Stephens has still put up a better fight than you did?” For some reason, Longdogger Pete does not answer. Kevin Coyote gets back to his feet and laughs derisively as he sees his opponent prostrate on the canvas. Then the SWF’s first-ever second-generation superstar turns and makes his way to the turnbuckles, boosting himself up to the second rope, before drawing one thumb across his throat. As the fans start to boo, Coyote launches himself off and drops a leg right across Amy’s windpipe! *BANG!* Amy was already finding it hard to breath in the aftermath of Coyote’s choke and this latest blow to the throat probably hasn’t helped matters; Kevin seeks to take advantage by making an instant cover, Brian Warner dropping to make the count… ONE! TWO!! …but Amy kicks out after two! Kevin Coyote looks a little annoyed and makes another cover, this time ensuring that he hooks his opponent’s leg as he does so… ONE! TWO!! …but Amy kicks out again, well before Brian Warner’s hand comes down for the three! “LET’S GO A-MY!” “LET’S GO A-MY!” The crowd are starting to rally behind the girl from Nottingham again; not that their support (or lack of it) bothers Kevin Coyote much. The man from Brunswick grabs Amy by the hair again and drags her to her feet once more, then twists her around for another neckbreaker… but this time Amy lashes out with an elbow, catching Coyote in the temple! The sudden, sharp pain causes Kevin to relax his hold, and Amy threads both her arms under his before locking them together behind his neck in a reverse Full Nelson. A look of panic crosses Kevin’s face for a second and he tries to break the hold, but before he can Amy drops down with a neckbreaker of her own! “YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “Damn right!” LDP yells, half-rising to his feet, “you show him, girl!” However, despite the fact that Kevin Coyote is holding his neck Amy has been taking a bit of a battering for the last couple of minutes, and the Punk-Rock Princess is not very quick to follow up. Instead she seems happy to use the break in Coyote offence as a chance to recover slightly, before finally pushing herself back to her feet. Kevin Coyote is getting up at the same time though, and Pete’s son reaches out to grab this annoying female only to have his own head suddenly clasped in both hands before Miss Stephen’s skull approaches his own at considerable speed! *CRACK!* “What do you suppose that’s called, King?” Pete chuckles as Coyote drops to his rump with his eyes unfocused from Amy’s headbutt, “a Nottingham Kiss?” “Unladylike is what I call it,” the Heartbreaker snorts. “Just because she hasn’t fallen for your puppy-dog good looks,” Pete teases, seemingly in better spirits now that Amy is back in some control of the match. “Uh, Pete? She’s screwing Landon,” Suicide King says, gagging, “I wouldn’t touch her with a ten-foot pole.” “We both know your pole isn’t ten foot, and I’ve got the testimony from Amy Craven to prove it.” Amy has taken a second to clear her vision after headbutting Coyote, the move carrying it’s own drawbacks, but then notices that her opponent is in a particularly inviting sitting position. Figuring that it has to be worth a shot, Amy makes a dive for her opponent and tries to wrap her left arm around his throat for the Last Orders! Kevin Coyote suddenly comes alive at this new offensive and desperately tries to fend her off but even as he blocks her arms from clamping off his air he’s already scrabbling with his feet to try and get to the ropes, an endeavour he succeeds in just as Amy manages to slip past his guard and causing Warner to instruct Amy to break her hold! “Dammit King,” Pete says unhappily, “from what we’ve seen of the Last Orders, that rear naked choke that Amy Stephens uses, it would have been the end of the match if she’d locked that in!” “I guess it’s just as well for Kevin Coyote that he inherited your ring knowledge, eh? Eh?” King says, nudging LDP. “Oh no, wait; you didn’t have any ring knowledge. Well, I guess this is what they call evolution, hey?” Amy isn’t happy at having to break the hold, and she shows it by… well, by not really releasing it. Instead she scoots around into something roughly approximating a front facelock and starts to drag Coyote out of the ropes, then begins hammering forearm blows into his back with no great technical precision but with a considerable amount of force! Coyote’s grunts indicate that this girl is hitting a bit harder than he was expecting and he starts trying to shift his weight to find a way out of his predicament; sure enough, as Amy raises her right arm for another shot Coyote is able to roll to one side, twisting out from the grip Amy has with her left hand and coming up with an armbar applied! “And that’s where your boy Kevin has the advantage, Pete; technical wrestling,” King says smugly as Pete’s son cranks back on his hold. However, Coyote isn’t smirking anymore. “He gets by on cheating and shortcuts,” Pete snorts, “technical wrestling my ass!” “No Pete; your technical wrestling is ass.” Kevin Coyote has not appreciated being headbutted and pummelled by a girl, even if she is the sister of a three-time World Champion. As a result he seems to have decided to show her up a bit, so the man from Brunswick rolls over Amy’s back to apply an armbar to the other arm! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” The smirk is starting to return as Coyote decides that his opponent must have just got lucky. With that in mind he releases Amy’s arm and rolls the other way over her back, then grabs the original arm and applies the armbar to it again. This doesn’t seem to be enough for Coyote though, and the Longdogger’s son soon drops the arm to reach forward and apply a crossface hold, making sure to dig his hands into Amy’s face as he wrenches back. Unfortunately he forgot one very important thing: ‘AAAAARRRRGGGGHHHHHH!’ “She’s biting him!” King splutters in outrage, “Warner, disqualify her!” “Well, if you will put your hands near someone’s mouth…” Pete says, grinning. “Dammit Dogger, she’s foreign, she might have rabies! She’s sleeping with Landon, she must have something wrong with her!” Brian Warner does not disqualify Amy Stephens; however he does start counting: ‘ONE!’ ‘TWO!’ ‘THREE!’ ‘FOUR!’ ‘FI-’ Moments before the DQ can become a reality Amy opens her mouth again and Coyote rolls away, clutching his right hand and alternating between whimpering and cursing. Meanwhile Amy pushes herself back to her feet and, wiping her mouth with a grin, turns to orient herself on her opponent. The Punk-Rock Princess then charges forwards, leaving her feet to drive a pair of pink-and-black Vans into the side of Coyote’s head! *SMACK!* “Basement dropkick,” LDP calls, “and that was one of her brother’s trademarks!” “Huh,” King snorts, “jumping and kicking someone in the head isn’t exactly rocket science.” Kevin Coyote sprawls sideways but isn’t down yet, struggling to get back to his feet and get far enough away from Amy to get some separation and reform his strategy. Unfortunately Amy is a stubborn little bitch and she keeps coming, grabbing Coyote’s head as he rises and then dropping backwards, bringing both knees up to drive them into his face as she pulls him down after her! “Face Breaker!” Pete shouts in satisfaction as Kevin drops backwards to the canvas, “let’s see how popular the ‘Dog’ is with his girl-on-the-phone after taking that move!” Amy Stephens isn’t happy with possibly mangling Coyote’s face though - the girl from Nottingham quickly piles on top of him and hooks the far leg to make a cover! ONE! TWO!! …but Kevin kicks out after two! Amy shakes her head in disappointment but starts to get back up to her feet, wrapping her fingers through Coyote’s hair to give him a taste of his own medicine as she pulls him up after her. Brian Warner gives her the same warning that he did Coyote, and Amy pays about as much attention as she flips a v-sign at the referee. Then the Punk-Rock Princess takes a firm hold on her opponent’s wrist and launches her body backwards, trying to get enough momentum to send Coyote’s greater weight towards the far turnbuckles with an Irish whip. Kevin is still too disorientated to resist and he finds himself shot into the pads, instinctively twisting at the last second to try and take the impact on his back but still having the breath knocked out of him. Matters aren’t helped much when Amy screams a wordless warcry and charges across the ring after him, then leaps into the air to sandwich him against the turnbuckles with a flying splash! *WHUMP!* Despite Amy’s relatively small size for a wrestler, 170lbs slamming into you is likely to wind most people, and the same goes for Kevin Coyote. The man from Brunswick suddenly finds his legs unable to support him and he collapses into a sitting position, chest heaving as he tries to replenish some oxygen… and Amy backs off, then raises her hands above her head and begins to clap. *clap* *clap* *clap* *clap* *clap* *clap* *clap* *clap* *clap* *clap* *clap-clap-clap-clap-clap-clap-clap…* With the crowd picking up on the rhythm and joining in to make a growing, quickening creschendo of sound, Amy starts hopping from one foot to the other. Then, when the clapping is going so quickly that the good people of Seattle can’t bang their hands together any faster Amy springs into action, charging forwards again and leaping into the air before slamming down in a seated position astride the chest and face of the slumped Coyote! “BRONCO BUSTER!” Pete calls as the SWF fulfils its ‘pointless move of the evening’ quota. Once her momentum has been spent Amy rolls back off the bottom rope, then grabs the legs of the breathless Coyote and hooks them over her shoulders before wrenching back and up, hauling him up before planting him with a powerbomb! *BANG!* Coyote’s shoulders are on the mat and Brian Warner drops down to count, having to half-slide under the ropes to do so… ONE! TWO!! THR- -but Kevin Coyote kicks out! Amy narrows her eyes and as the Georgian rolls onto his front in an instinctive move to try and avoid pinning she grabs him in a front facelock before hauling him up to his feet. Kevin’s breathing is still a bit laboured and he seems to be having trouble fighting her off, which gives Amy plenty of time to steady herself, swing a leg out backwards and then bring it snapping forwards… *WHAM!* “What a DDT!” LDP shouts as Amy Stephens snaps backwards, bringing Kevin Coyote down on his skull, “King, I wouldn’t be surprised if that move hadn’t knocked Kevin clean out!” There’s only one way to find out; Amy rolls her opponent onto his back and makes another cover… ONE! TWO!! THHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRR- -but Kevin Coyote kicks out again! “THAT WAS THREE!” “THAT WAS THREE!” Brian Warner doesn’t seem particularly inclined to listen to the crowd, no matter how loud they chant. As a result he signals for just a two, and indicates that the match should continue. Amy heaves a sigh of disgust and gets back to her feet, then turns around and heads for the nearest corner. The Punk-Rock Princess steps through the ropes and begins to climb to the top turnbuckle, keeping a careful eye on Coyote as she does so. Then when she reaches the top she pauses for a second, spreads her arms wide, and leaps into the air… … *BANG!* “She missed!” Suicide King crows as Amy’s diving headbutt only finds canvas, “that wily Coyote managed to roll out of the way!” “If Kevin starts using things with the ‘ACME’ logo on, I think we need to worry,” Pete mutters. Both competitors are now on the canvas, as despite his evasive manoeuvre Coyote has not managed to catch his breath enough to get back to his feet. However, what the man from Brunswick is able to do is roll to get next to Amy Stephens, and then as the Punk-Rock Princess tries to push herself up, poke her in the eye! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” The crowd voice their unanimous disgust at such a craven tactic from Coyote, but Pete’s son ignores them (along with Brian Warner) as Amy scrabbles away from him, clutching at her face. The respite that this gives Kevin seems to be enough for him to start to rise, and although still a little light-headed from the winding blows he took as well as that nasty DDT, it is Coyote who appears to be in better shape than the half-blinded Amy. He gets to a crouch and then stops, apparently waiting for something, as Amy gets back to her feet and, still swiping at one eye, starts to turn towards him… *CRUNCH!* “SPEAR! SPEAR!” King roars with evil glee, “he’s got her now, Dogger!” Sure enough, Kevin Coyote’s shoulder has buried itself into Amy’s gut and brought the English girl straight back down to the mat with authority~! Amy coughs weakly but the impact seems to have taken some of the air out of the Coyote as well, and it takes Kevin a second to recover before he reaches out to hook his opponent’s leg… ONE! TWO!! THHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR- -but Amy kicks out! Coyote certainly has enough air left in him to curse Brian Warner for what he sees as a slow count, but he doesn’t waste valuable time doing this for long; instead the Smark Enough runner-up grabs Amy by her hair and drags her back to her feet, then places her in a reverse headlock. With his opponent’s body bent backwards at an uncomfortable angle and with her arms flailing weakly Kevin takes a moment to smirk around and the crowd, before dropping backwards sharply with a reverse DDT! *BANG!* The back of Amy’s skull bounces off the mat and Kevin’s grin widens; then the Georgian hooks the far leg, rolling into the cover to put as much weight as possible onto Amy Stephens’ shoulders… ONE! TWO!! THHHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “LET’S GO A-MY!” “LET’S GO A-MY!” “Dammit Pete, that was a three-count!” Suicide King spits in anger as Kevin Coyote turns a disbelieving gaze onto Brian Warner, “Coyote had her there! He had her!” “I’m afraid the referee disagrees with you, King,” LDP says stubbornly, “and it’s going to take my so-called-son more than that to put this young woman away!” Kevin seems to agree. He stops arguing with Brian Warner and gets back to his feet, standing next to Amy’s prone form. Then he tilts his head back and lets out a chilling, ironic howl! ‘ARRRROOOOOOOWWWWWWLLLLLLL!’ “It looks like he’s going for the Full Moon Assault,” Pete says as Kevin turns to face the ropes, “but you have to wonder if it would take the wind out of him as well!” This appears to be a risk that Kevin Coyote is willing to take, and he runs towards the ropes before vaulting up to the second one and backflipping off it… *CRUNCH!* …right onto Amy Stephens’ knees. “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Kevin rolls off, clutching his ribs in agony and trying to suck in air, but there’s not a whole lot of places for him to go. Amy Stephens may be bruised, and she may be battered, but she’s capable of scrambling to her knees for long enough to lung at Coyote’s back and wrap one arm around his throat, cinching it tight with the other. Moments later her legs anchor around his midsection with a bodyscissors… “Last Orders!” Pete bawls, “Last Orders locked in!” …and with no air in his lungs to start with, it’s only a matter of time for Kevin Coyote. *TAP-TAP-TAP!* *DING-DING-DING!* “Kevin Coyote was robbed! Robbed!” King spits as Brian Warner raises Amy Stephens’ hand in victory. Pete just sits there and smirks as we FADE OUT

The Smartmark's Wrestling Federation Presents... SWF STORM! LIVE, SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 18th, FROM THE SOLD OUT KEYARENA IN SEATTLE, WASHINGTON! (7:00pm PST, 10:00pm EST; check local listings) The Lethal Lottery is underway! Tonight, we see some more matchifications, with plenty of cross-pool action, and a gentlemen's encounter between Bruce Blank and Insane Luchadore? That can't be right - but it is! Plus, the battle of the big mouths, and our World Champ in action! -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- The Main Event (non-title) El Luchadore Magnifico © vs. "The Icon" Max King © ---> We need to keep our champions in shape, after all. At From the Fire, Magnifico's got Wes, and MaddiKing's got... someone... but in the mean time, we can't let them get rusty. Max King gets a crack at the unbeatable Magnifico in tonight's show-stopping Main Event! Rules: Standard singles match. -=-=-=-=- Lethal Lottery Match (Pool D) Todd Cortez and Allan Hadrian (0/0) vs. Jay Hawke © and Arch Griffon (0/0) ---> Most rookies get their start against the likes of Ced Ordonez, but due to the timetable of the Lethal Lottery, Allan Hadrian's first match in the SWF is one of the highest-caliber tournament matchups yet! Jay Hawke and Todd Cortez clashed last show, with Hawke coming out the (not so clean) victor - Cortez will definitely be looking for payback. And we all know there's some history between Griffon and Hawke... how will the wildcard Hadrian play into all this? Rules: Standard tag team match. -=-=-=-=- Lethal Lottery Match (Cross-pool) The Crimson Skull and Jason von Dierch (0/1) vs. Christian Fury and Mistress Sarah (0/1) ---> Moral victors of Smarkdown battle it out to break even on their tournament records! Rules: Standard tag team match. -=-=-=-=- Lethal Lottery Match (Pool B) "Hollywood" Spike Jenkins and Zyon © (1/0) vs. Ghost Machine 2.0 and Matt Myers (0/1) ---> Victorious in their first match, Team SpYon looks to close the book on the other Pool B Team, and propel themselves to a 2-0 record before their cross-pool match. But look out - the cosplay master and a guy who might be a robot stand in their way! Rules: Standard tag team match. -=-=-=-=- Bruce Blank © vs. Insane Luchadore ---> CLASH OF THE TITANS~!... ... OF HARDCORE! ... in a... standard... match? An oddity, to be sure, but that's life - Bruce Blank and Insane Luchadore, both icons of the Hardcore/Ultraviolent/Not-Very-Nice division, look to settle their differences in a civilized setting. Rules: Standard singles match. -=-=-=-=- Lethal Lottery Match (Cross-pool) The Asian Underground (Akira Kaibatsu and Michael Cross) (1/0) vs. Ced Ordonez and Laberinto (0/1) ---> The Asian Underground made a big statement with their opening match in the tournament, and with all the odd couples about, many say they're poised to go far in the Lottery. To go farther, though, they'll have to take on the not-so-victorious team Ced Ordonez and Laberinto! Can the masked wonder and the dancing machine pull out the win? Rules: Standard tag team match. -=-=-=-=- Opening Bout Amy Stepens vs. Kevin Coyote ---> A little preview of an upcoming Lottery match - two loudmouths, one of Team BlAmy and one of Team KevAdore, battle it out for our amusement! Rules: Standard singles match. -=-=-=-=- -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- SPECIAL BONUS MATCH Jimmy the Doom vs. An Octopus ---> Be careful what you wish for. Rules: HARDCORE. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

"PREPARE...FOR...LANDON!" ...WAAAAAHHHHH... *DUM DUM* "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" "Oh, joy." "Well, this is the first time we've seen Landon Maddix in the flesh since Clusterfuck and after the footage we saw of his reaction to losing the big Clusterfuck Match, this promises to be most interesting." Pete muses, as Landon makes his way through the curtains. "We've seen Landon around since then and to say he's been...woah, what the...oh boy, this isn't good!" Pete's rundown is cut short, as he and the rest of the fans in the arena notice that Landon Maddix isn't alone. Following The Next Generation down to the ring, the unmistakeable frame of Amy Stephens raises a fair amount of confusion from the fans...at least the ones who don't keep up to date with SWF.com, your number one source of 2003 SWF information! "Now, this is VERY interesting." enthuses Pete, while King tries not to fall into a premature sleep. "Landon has promised that tonight, he's gonna call Amy Stephens' brother Toxxic out...but we haven't seen Toxxic for months! He's gone AWOL! There's no guarantee that he's even watching the show tonight!" "You think Landon has had space in his scatty little brain to even contemplate that?" sneers King. "Face it, this kid is messed up in the head. Seriously messed up. The fact that he's coming to the ring and calling out someone who left the company in the middle of last year alone should tell you that...let alone the fact he's doing it in front of Toxxic's homicidal sister!" Entering the ring, Landon Maddix wastes no time in procuring the microphone from Funyon and positioning himself in the centre of the ring. With an 'inviting' finger Landon then calls a camera man over and 'invites' him to 'stand the hell in front of me', so that Landon is addressing the camera rather than the crowd. "LAN - DON SUCKS!" "LAN - DON SUCKS!" "LAN - DON SUCKS!" "LAN - DON SUCKS!" But, even though he's not looking at them, Landon can still clearly hear the fans' reaction to him. Amy Stephens also enters the ring, as Landon gets ready to begin...but suddenly wheels around without warning, demanding a chair in the ring. In comes the chair, which Landon sits himself down in, leaving Amy to stand behind. "Sitting down...that's not a good sign." groans King. "Wake me up when he's done." Landon impatiently begins to toss the microphone from hand to hand, seemingly unable to keep himself still as he tries to compose himself. "LAN - DON SUCKS!" "LAN - DON SUCKS!" "LAN - DON SUCKS!" "LAN - DON SUCKS!" "SJL Television Champion. SJL European Champion. SJL Heavyweight Champion. Two time SWF USJL Champion. Three time and longest reigning SWF ICTV Champion. Former SWF International Champion. Three time, current SWF Tag Team Champion. First ever Cold Front Classic winner. 2005 Clusterfuck Champion. Former SWF World Heavyweight Champion... ...NONE of those things mean anything to me anymore." Sitting back in the chair, Landon sighs. "Everything I've set out to accomplish in my career, I've done. I've won titles, acquired accolades, earned plaudits. And when I'm gone, I won't be soon forgotten. There is but one regret...and it's a regret that haunts me to this day, almost 12 months on. And until I right the wrong that went down on that night last year, then I simply cannot find inner peace and move on with career. With my life." Landon pauses again, giving some of the fans chance to shout some abuse. For the first time since arriving, that earns the fans Landon's attention. "I know you people resent me for everything I've done in the past year. And there's only one person you've got to blame for that...and that man, is 'TOXXIC'." "YYEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!" A huge pop goes up for the departed former three time World Champion's name. Landon snarls, before looking up at Amy who simply shrugs her shoulders. Turning back to the camera, Landon does his best to ignore the cheers. "I know, somewhere, wherever you've hidden yourself away...you're watching tonight, Toxx. I know that somewhere you're watching, because simply put, you HAVE to. There's a saying around these parts and it stands as true today as it ever has. Nobody ever leaves for good, Toxxic. Nobody ever manages to stay away. Eventually, you'll be back. That's why you see Sacred return. That's why you see El Luchadore Magnifico return. That's why you see Danny Williams making comebacks. It's the same reason that eventually, one day, JJ'll be back. You can never really, truely leave the SWF. And Toxxic, I know that you've been keeping up to date with what's going on. Sure, you probably spent a couple of months doing your own thing. But eventually, curiosity got to you. The lure of the SWF got to you, just like it does anyone else." "TOXX - IC!" "TOXX - IC!" "TOXX - IC!" "TOXX - IC!" "CAN YOU HEAR THEM!?!" Landon suddenly shouts, leaning into the camera. "CAN YA HEAR THEM, TOXX!?! Do you hear those people, chanting your name? Feels good, don't it? Right now, you must really be getting the itch. The lure of competition's running back through your veins and I know that deep down, whether you admit it to yourself or not, you'd LOVE to be back in this ring and competing with the best! You've felt what it's like to be World Champion on 3 occassions. Sure, maybe you thought at one point that you'd done it all. That you'd achieved everything you needed to. But the SWF never leaves you Toxxic. The pull's getting stronger. You're sick of running, sick of hiding. Those spikes of hair you shaved away are growing back, reminding you of who you were...who you ARE!" Landon sneers. "Nobody cares about Michael Stephens. These people wouldn't give a crap about some random 'geezer' from Nottingham if they turned up on their doorsteps. But Toxxic? Yeah. Then, maybe, they'd care." Amy stays quiet in the background, despite no doubt disagreeing with Landon on that point. She cares about Michael Stephens, even if no-one else does. "Why fight it, Mike? Why fight the inevitable? Grab the mascara, glob on the hair gel, come out of your little hidey hole and come back. Come back to the SWF. Come back and FIGHT ME! Nobody'd think any the less of you. Far from it. I'm sure these people would love to have you back..." "YYEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!" "...and your sister would sure love to have you back. But most of all, I want you back. I want you back, so I can get MY career back. The moment you packed your bags and strolled out the back door, you didn't just put your career on hold, you did the same to mine. And I want it back. So be a man Toxxic. Be a man and fight me, one last time. I know you're not close enough to get here tonight...chances are, you're not even in the country. It needn't be tonight, it needn't be next week. But Toxxic, we all know that sooner or later you'll be back, so why not make it sooner?" Standing up from his seat, Landon smiles. "Sooner or later...you'll be back. I GUARANTEE it! And when you do finally return, I'll be waiting." The smile disappears from Landon's face as he closes in on the camera, his face almost pressed up against the lens as his teeth grit together. "Toxxic...consider yourself...called out!" Throwing down the microphone, Landon has clearly said all he needs to say as he piefaces the camera away from him and leaves the ring, storming up the ramp without a second look back or even around at the fans. Amy is close behind, with other things on her mind. "Well, Toxxic has been called out...but, this may be one challenge that never gets answered!" fears Pete. "Somebody needs to try telling Landon that. Does he really think that Toxxic's just gonna jump on a plane the moment he says jump? Give me a break. Toxx...sorry, 'Michael Stephens', trashed his ring gear, he shaved away those trademark spikes from his hair, he left the SWF high and dry! He left because he didn't want to be here anymore, simple as that. If Landon thinks that Toxxic's gonna come back just because he issued a challenge to him, then I think he's very much mistaken!" "King, I really don't think this is the end of this." sighs Pete. "I don't think that Landon Maddix will rest until Toxxic does come back and does face him in the ring. I don't think he CAN rest until that happens. The thing that worries me is, how far is this clearly unbalanced young kid gonna go to goad Toxxic back?" "And how much more mic time is he gonna be given? THAT'S what worries me!" "Very droll, King. Very droll."

I wanted to get you a McFarlane Stryke, but they were out. Sorry. -Z

I've edited the card with the addition of some new markers Judge forgot about - we shouldn't have a need to double-duty anybody anymore - and changed the show poster. It's Raynor, not meeeeee~ -Z

Well, I have to say that on the surface, this was a really great show. Lots of different threads were weaved in throughout, and there was a lot of storyline progression, which is nice to see with so much time to go before the next PPV. Behinds the scenes, though, not so much. There were quite a few noshows where I didn't expect them at all. Now, the Lethal Lottery... I'm going to come out right away and admit it's all my baby, and it's basically a CC Power Play to breathe new life into the tag division. So if you have any complaints, feel free to direct them my way, where they will be summarily ignored. Like any kind of tournament, it's probably going to be a little disruptive, but I think we've plotted this one out in such a way that it gives writers enough flexibility to work around it. I'd try to explain the rules for everything here, but truthfully it's not the easiest concept to understand. After the card is up, I'll be making a thread explaining everything and showing the exact process of the tournament, and explaining how everything is supposed to work. With diagrams. -Z

Wow. "Bollywood" Santosh Jeevan, I demand that someone make a ringer with that name. But other than that... wow. -Z

The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation presents... SWF LOCKDOWN! Live, WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 8TH, from the SOLD OUT ROSE GARDEN in PORTLAND, OREGON! (6pm PST, 10pm EST; check local listings) After a hellacious PPV and a brief period to deal with the Morning After - always a problem when 'Fucking - the SWF gets back to business! And the action wastes no time in getting hot n' heavy, with three title bouts, including a stunning rematch of the Clusterfuck main event! Also, following the effects of Kevin Coyote's stunning revelation on AftershoX, SWF play-by-play man Longdogger Pete has requested this show off, with stalward Ben Hardy replacing him behind the desk. Plus, TWO returns, and a major announcement from the Boss! OPENING PROMO: Kevin Coyote MAIN EVENT WORLD TITLE BOUT, SUBMISSION MATCH El Luchadore Magnifico© vs JJ Johnson SPECIAL GUEST COMMENTATOR: Wes Davenport ->And this time... it's personal. After getting closer than any other man in the last four months to dethroning El Luchadore Magnifico as SWF World Heavyweight Champion, JJ Johnson will square off once again for the right to be crowned the best in the business. Not through threats, not through favours, but through a promise, an apology. At the Clusterfuck Magnifico forced Johnson to tap, and in all fairness to JJ, he's going to have to trade submissions with Magnifico and win it the hard way if he wants to become world champion. And of course... all will take place under the watchful eye of the man who truly has the most riding on this matchup. Rules: Submission match. The winner is whoever forces his opponent to tap out; regular DQ/Countout rules are not in effect, but ropebreaks are. Muzz can write a match if he would like, but is discouraged to do so. Word Limit: 6750 Send To: realitycheck -=-=-=- SINGLES MATCH "The Divine Wind" Akira Kaibatsu vs Todd Cortez ->Akira Kaibatsu, Michael Cross, WHAT IS THEIR CONNECTION!? Well, Asian, it looks like. Unfortunately, there was no way I could tie that plot point into a totally relevant matchup without being too obvious, so here's Todd Cortez! Cortez has been in a bit of a funk lately, and hasn't been able to find the form that took him to the main event of Ramadomination. This may be a good chance for him, because although Akira hung tough against Bruce Blank in a brutal series of matchups, those injuries of his have got to be lingering. If there's one sure way to find out if old wounds have healed, it's to open 'em up again! Rules: Standard singles match. Word Limit: 5000 Send To: janusd -=-=-=- HARDCORE TITLE BOUT Bruce Blank© vs Ghost Machine 2.0 ->No rest for the wicked, as they say. After getting perferated, mutilated, discombobulated and blowed up good, Bruce Blank was no doubt looking forward to an easy night off. Well, not so much. The incomprable Ghost Machine has apparently identified Blank as his highest priority processing task, and well, who are we here on SWF CC to argue with Ghost Machine's OS? Here's hoping Blank just doesn't crack his source code open at some point in the match. Rules: You're kidding, right? Word Limit: 5000 Send To: chirs3 -=-=-=- MAJOR ANNOUNCEMENT! ->Da Boss himself, Joe Peters, has a big announcement to make, with sweeping ramafactions! After Family Friendly rules and free endorsements, Peter's continued delusions of grandeur can probably only draw a groan from SWF fans and workers included. Just the same, he promises this one is going to be incredible, and might actually have something to do with wrestling this time! -=-=-=- SINGLES MATCH Laberinto vs "The Icon" Max King ->A few shows before the Clusterfuck, Landon Maddix and Max King, the most unlikely of partners, were finally able to pry the tag team titles away from TKO, or at least what was left of them. The exact dynamics of this team, or even King's reasoning for choosing Maddix as his partner, remain uknown. Maddix isn't booked tonight, but King gets a chance to stretch his legs in singles competition against the enigmatic Laberinto. Rules: Singles Match Word Limit: 4750 Send To: Justice -=-=-=- CRUSIERWEIGHT TITLE BOUT, TRIPLE THREAT Zyon© vs Kevin Coyote vs Christian Fury ->It doesn't seem like all's well in Zyon's relationship with Spike Jenkins. What does that have to do with this match? Absolutely jack, but it's always nice when the bookers point out they read the shows. The cruiserweight champion has a rocky schedule ahead of him, I reckon, and this first defense of the month is going to be particularly tricky. After floundering a bit out of the gate, Christian Fury is given a chance to kick his return into gear. And while Kevin Coyote's shocking announcement on the last show has affected the commentary table, it will be interesting to see how it affects his preformance in-ring. Rules: Regular cruiserweight rules. 20 count on the outside, no piledrivers, etc. Word Limit: 5500 Send To: The Superstar -=-=-=- SINGLES MATCH Amy Stephens vs Insane Luchador ->Amy Stephens, the cute n' cuddly kid sister of Michael Stephens, better known as Toxxic, has been tracking down her brother since his mysterious disappearance. Running out of leads (and money) has brought her to the place he last left. Smells like trouble. And Estée Lauder. Just the same, Joe Peters knows money when he sees it, and given Amy a contract. And who better to welcome her into the SWF than a real ladies man? Sadly, Tyler McClelland hasn't been active in four years, so here's Andrew Rickmen, recently back from the dead. Rules: Standard singles match. Word Limit: 4000 Send To: realitycheck -=-=-=- SINGLES MATCH Jimmy the Doom vs The Crimson Skull ->THE MEGAPOWERS COLLIDE! Well, not really, but it's fun to dream. After a long haitus in Doomtopia, Jimmy the DOOM returns, victorious in a war with Zirconia, to do battle with all Ne'er Do Wells, or something to that effect. Just the same, who is more Ne'er than the Crimson Skull himself? Stymied with a streak of losses, Skull has threatened to fire the lovable Heff if conditions don't improve! It's beyond Heff's caste as a mook to get a title match for Skull, like he wants, but a win here would certainly do wonders for his cause... Rules: Singles Match Word Limit: 4000 Send To: The Satanic Angel -=-=-=- OPENING BOUT SINGLES MATCH Archie Griffon vs Michael Cross ->After being away from the Ess Dub Eff for... some time, Arch Griffon returns! When we last saw him, he was the man able to wrest the International Title away from Jay Hawke's white knuckled grasp. Since then, Hawke has gone on to have one of the longest reigns in Federation history! Griff gets a chance to shake off the rust against rookie Michael Cross, who continues to impress. Rules: Standard singles match. Word Limit: 4000 Send To: Justice (Send all promos/marked matches to Justice) (Longdogger Pete is not on commentary for this show, as a result of what happened on AftershoX. As noted, Ben Hardy is in his place. Pete will return for Smarkdown)

DURAN! ...come back. Or update the TSMFBL. Either one I'm cool with. -Z

Oh well, all the more time for porn! And the SWF. What a life I lead. First I would like to arrogantly blow my own horn and point out the two Wes Davenport Collection DVD commercials that were in the show. Both of them were Judge's ideas, but he wrote the first one and let me have the second. I have to say that we have literally come up with dozens of stupid Wes Davenport movie ideas to use for commercials in the span of a couple of hours - this gimmick is truly incredible. Anyway, OH MY GOD SO MANY PROMOS JESUS CHRIST. In some ways, it's disappointing that a regular show can actually have twice as much content as a PPV, and that PPV has three matches that require double posts. At the same time, it's incredibly impressive because it means people are coming out en masse after the PPV to get stuff going on the promo show, which almost never happens. In the end I just say huzzah, 'cause I like promos. There were quite a few new threads that were turned up in this show, and ultimately that's exactly what you want. When you're coming off a PPV, it's sometime weeks before everyone gets going on a storyline, so this is very encouraging. I'm curious about the whole Kaibatsu/Cross angle, and while I did see the Kevin Coyote/LDP thing coming (it's been foreshadowed quite well), the execution was awesome and it raises a lot of interesting questions. Is Coyote himself actually Pete? I have to say that I'm really impressed with this recap show idea, although it is a lot of effort. Judge has really been the catalyst for CC getting involved in projects like this, and I hate him for it, because being on SWF Creative Control has always been about half-assing what essentially amount to e-fed public works projects, and then never reading shows before you book cards. The son of a bitch is ruining nearly five years of tradition, here. And I must say that I'm positively moist over the idea of JJ/ELM having a rematch. I am moistening -Z

Y'know, I think the worst thing in the world you can do is change your writing style in an attempt to 'fit in' better. In addition to doing something you simply aren't comfortable with, it's taxing and may speed up burnout, regardless of whether or not you end up more sucessful. I have completely maintained that the whole "you need to write like so-and-so" thing is a myth. If you don't believe me, I think you should just talk to Wildchild. Both his writing style and his in-ring style remain completely unique, even after years of being part of the fed. The fact that he came into the SWF at a time when AJPW styled strike and head drop-based movesets were all the rage, and was not only immediately successful, but went on to be one of the most prolific writers of that entire year, should speak more to what being an individual does than anything else. Wildchild is also arguably the best storyteller in the SWF - and when you boil everything else away, that is truly the most important factor. -Z

I'd like to think I know where this is headed. -Z

I recently received a suggestion that I'll pass along, that we start using retired SWF wrestler Tod deKindes as our backup interviewer. I'm not preciesely sure how well this would go over, as he's more likely to spend the entire interview talking about how awesome he was rather than ask any questions. -Z

1) Who are you, and what have you done this year? I'm Zed. I've completely run the administrative gauntlet (writer, marker, booker, run the JL, run the WF and been a chat op) over my roughly four years of SWF service. When Mike disappeared and Tom lost his connection, I offered myself to help Raynor out in running the fed again. I am also party to a wide number of secrets. 2) What do you think of CC and their work at this time? We're fucking awesome, and I don't want to hear otherwise as long as I have the book again. But seriously, I'm pretty impressed with Judge and Chris's ability to demonstrate administrative authority. Mike, and no offense to him, left CC in a real big fucking disorganized mess. The roster hadn't been updated since August, nobody was sure who the champions were, nobody had a good handle on what a lot of the storylines were, etc etc. Both of them did an excellent job cleaning shit up and getting everything back into working order. Judge also has limitless enthusiasm and ideas on how we can be better and more proactive, such as this thread. He apparently never got the memo. 3) What do you think this fed's strongest suit is? Me. Alright, enough of that. We have a lot of dedicated writers who are commited to improvement, and also who genuinely seem to enjoy the absurd amount of effort you need to be successful at this silly little hobby. It's nice to be in a period of the SWF where there's more than one or two writers plotting out storylines and not floating around, relying on CC to throw them a bone. 4) What do you think this fed's weakest suit is? Janus. Alright, enough of that for real this time. We could still stand to have more humour, and I think weaning people off of the necessity of doing pointless limb psych or whatever just so it's there is a noble goal. We could stand to alter our marking principles a bit. And Akira's right, we could also stand to be more prudent, but that's never going to happen. 5) Do you have any suggestions for changes in how things are run? I think the whole "union rep" and "storyline consultant" ideas are superflous - there are enough people on the roster who informally do that kind of stuff anyway. I feel we have a lot of initiatives on the go right now, and don't need to introduce anything new right away. 6) Overall, do you like the direction the fed is headed in? I think we're going to be enjoying a resurgence well into the spring, and perhaps longer if none of the important veteran writers in the upper eschelons of the card retire anytime soon. (ie: Wildchild, ELM, Cortez, etc) -Z

omfg @ Matt Myers being ranked over SEVEN other guys. That is tremendous. Admit it, Pete, you don't use a mathmatical formula at all. You just roll your d20. -Z

No, he didn't. He did as of the moment I posted the card. Understand? -Z

I keep thinking there's something about piledrivers. But then, in my mind, I occasionally think Bill Watts Rules and Crusierweight Rules are the same thing. -Z

Done.

Fucking Christ, that's a lot of promos. Card up eventually, whenever I actually finish reading them all. -Z

The opening ceremonies for SWF AftershoX have finally come to a close, leaving in its wake a cheerful, excited crowd, anxious to witness what’s sure to be an amazing night of SWF programming. “HEY HEY!” *BOOOOOOOOOOMM!!* “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!” However, that enthusiasm quickly wanes when Atake FDD’s “Tu Final” hits the speakers, accompanied by a burst of red, white and green pyro that explodes upwards from the stage. A moment later, El Luchadore Magnifico bursts though the pyro-induced smoke, the World Title wrapped around his waist and his Mexican flag flapping gracefully behind him. A broad grin on his face, Magnifico quickly makes his way towards the ring, paying no mind to the hundreds of booing, cursing fans that line his path. “Ladies and gentlemen...” Funyon begins, his vocal chors still warming up. “Please welcome the SWF World Heavyweight Champion...EL LUCHADOOOOOOOORE MAGNIFICOOOOOOOOO!!” The crowd rudely ignores Magnifico’s requests and seems to grow even louder as the luchadore climbs into the ring. Not wasting a moment, ELM strides across the canvas and motions for a microphone. Upon receiving one, Magnifico saunters back towards the center of the ring, his eyes closed and his hand stroking his chin thoughtfully. “And it appears we’ll pick up right where Clusterfuck left off.” Pete observes, a note of disdain in his voice. “El Luchadore Magnifico, fresh off a successful defense against JJ Johnson, appears to have something to share with us.” “That’s not necessarily true.” King chimes in. “Maybe Magnifico just wants to grace us with his presence for a little while and have a nice, warm chat. He’s generous and selfless like that.” ELM stands in the center of the ring for a few moments, the crowd getting more annoyed the longer he’s silent. Finally, Magnifico opens his eyes, grins, and brings the microphone to his lips. “So, who was gonna kill me?” “BOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!” Magnifico chuckles as the furious crowd soundly boos his opening statement. He’s enjoying every second of this. The luchadore waits for the sound to die down for a moment before speaking again. “Well, I suppose I’d be annoyed too.” Magnifico sympathizes, the infuriating grin still painted across his face. “After all, this is, what, the fourth time you’ve put all you had into hoping I lost my World Title match? And you guys have been disappointed every single time.” “ ‘Oh, but this time will be different.’” ELM states in a mocking falsetto. “That’s what you said to yourselves. In the weeks leading up to Clusterfuck, you mistook JJ’s unfocused violence as a sign that he’d actually defeat me and take my World Title.” “But, as you know, that’s not at all what happened.” Another round of boos follows that statement, and Magnifico graciously pauses to allow that to get it out of their system. “I defeated JJ Johnson after nearly everyone predicted that he would win.” Magnifico continues, his voice growing noticeably sharper. “What do I have to do to convince you people? I’m only one of two Four-Time SWF World Heavyweight Champions. I hold the record for the longest World Title reign in SWF history. I’ve held the belt longer than anyone else in this federation’s history. No one else is even close.” “And yet you still doubt me.” The crowd simply simmers in their anger as Magnifico pauses once more, the smile complete gone from his face. After a moment, he closes his eyes, chuckles, and continues. “Well, it’s not like I give a damn what you people think anyway.” ELM shrugs. “I know that I’m the greatest SWF World Champion there’s ever been, and that’s all that matters.” “Which brings me to my next point...” Magnifico states, eliciting a collective groan from the live audience. “I’ve done everything I can to prove my worth as a World Champion. I’ve successfully defended my belt against every single person put up against me...and now they want me to defend it against an actor?!” Another wave of boos pours in from the live audience as Magnifico shakes his head and laughs in disbelief. “Absolutely unbelievable.” Magnifico states through his laughter. “Okay, sure, the guy won the Clusterfuck. Big fucking deal. All that shows me is that the SWF is in a damn sorry state right now. The other nineteen participants should be ashamed of themselves for allowing this pathetic execuse of a wrestler win a shot at my title.” “Well, I suppose it’s not all bad.” Magnifico admits. “Just means that I get to add more days to my already-amazing reign as World Champion. In fact - ” "HE HAS NOT CONFESSED, HE HAS MADE NO STATEMENT, CHARGES OF MURDER HAVE BEEN ACCEPTED AGAINST HIM." “RAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!” ELM is cut off in the middle of his sentence by the opening to Fear Factory’s “Scapegoat”, signaling the entrance of one JJ Johnson! Visibly annoyed at the interruption, Magnifico cocks his head towards the entranceway, scowling as the fans that surround him cheer their little hearts out. RRRRRRRRRRAAAAHHHHH!!!!!!! When Burton C. Bell's throaty growl comes tearing out of the speakers, JJ Johnson bursts out from behind the entrance curtain, a microphone in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. A determined glare on his face, he quickly makes his way towards the ring as the delighted fans reach a volume that’ll be hard to top tonight. Every set of eyes in the building focuses on Johnson as he approaches the ring and rolls beneath its bottom rope. “Looks like Johnson is here to offer a rebuttal to Magnifico’s egotistical rambling.” Pete deadpans. “Such partiality.” King shakes his head, disappointed. JJ pops to his feet inside the ring and immediately steps in front of Magnifico, locking eyes with the luchadore. Sensing that a brawl could break out at any moment, the excited crowd remains raucous, everyone inwardly praying for Johnson to simply deck the luchadore in the face. Meeting ELM’s idignant scowl with an intimidating stare, JJ takes a swig of water, then brings the microphone to his lips and finally speaks. “Magnifico.” JJ begins. “There is no one in this federation who recognizes your ability as a World Champion more than I do. It’s because of that that I desperately wanted to defeat you at Clusterfuck.” “Not only did I want to be the World Champion...I wanted to be known as the person who had defeated the legendary El Luchadore Magnifico.” Johnson confesses. “But...unfortunately, I couldn’t make that happen.” The crowd’s gone silent. This isn’t what they wanted to hear. Magnifico’s somewhat surprised himself, and he smirks as Johnson takes a swig of water and continues speaking. “But I can’t accept the way in which our match ended.” JJ firmly states, drawing a few cheers from the encouraged crowd. “I was mere moments away from forcing you to tap out to the Wing Span. I hadn’t even considered that you would reverse it into a pin.” “It was my own foolishness that cost me my match.” Johnson admits. “And...I won’t be satisfied until I get another shot at you, Magnifico!” The crowd roars upon hearing this, delighted with the thought that their might be a rematch. ELM’s entire face seems to sharpen as he stares Johnson down, who, to his credit, doesn’t back down an inch. “You’ve got a lot of nerve.” Magnifico spits. “You cause me all sorts of trouble for over a month, lose cleanly to me when our match finally does happen, and then you come out here and demand a rematch?!” “Where do you get off?!” ELM angrily questions. “You don’t deserve another shot at me, for the title or not!” JJ seethes as Magnifico finishes his rant. He balls up his fist and prepares to strike Magnifico, when the luchadore suddenly speaks again. “But all right.” The crowd is shocked. Even JJ seems stunned that Magnifico actually agreed to a rematch. “But, there’s one condition.” ELM continues, the signature smirk returning to his face. “When I beat you the second time, there’s something I want you to give me.” The crowd waits on baited breath, wondering what JJ could have that Magnifico wants. Johnson seems to be wondering the same thing, and remains silent as Magnifico continues. “An apology.” “A what?!” Pete cries. “ELM wants Johnson to apologize? What for?” “How about making Magnifico’s life a massive inconvenience for the past month and a half?” King smugly answers. “This is absolutely perfect. Once ELM beats JJ again, he’ll be forced to swallow his pride and ask for forgiveness from Magnifico.” “It’s bad enough that I beat you and you still have the nerve to speak to me.” Magnifico explains. “But demanding a rematch is inexcusable. Especially after the annoyances you put me through leading up to Clusterfuck.” “So, whattya say?” Magnifico asks, grinning right in JJ’s face. “When I successfully defend my title against you for a second time, you’ll come out to the center of the ring and deliver a heartfelt apology to my face. Agreed?” The crowd carefully watches Johnson, urging him to accept Magnifico’s proposal. After all, it’s not their pride on the line. JJ takes a swig of his water, stares coldly into ELM’s eyes, and brings the microphone to his lips. “All right.” “RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!” “Very good!” Magnifico cries. “I’ll defeat you once more, if that’s what you really want. Me and you, for the World Heavyweight Title, on Lockdown. Afterwards, you’ll have to swallow your pride and apologize to me.” “Not likely.” JJ sharply states. “What’s going to happen is, you’ll have to swallow your teeth and give me that title.” “RAHHHHHHHHHHH!” “You heard it here first, ladies and gentlemen!” Pete shouts over the din of the live audience. “On Lockdown, it’ll be a rematch from Clusterfuck, as El Luchadore Magnifico defends his World Title against JJ Johnson!” The final image broadcasted before Aftershox fades to commercial is JJ Johnson and El Luchadore Magnifico, surrounded by a cheering crowd as they stare each other down in the center of the ring...

... Backstage ... "I can't believe this!" yells the Crimson Skull, picking up a chair, and thrusting it into the wall. "I lost to a man that was dead to the world just last week!" "Calm down, Skull." Heff barely spits out, before realizing that he's being eyed by a furious Supervillain. "Calm down? Calm down?! I am fucking calm! What's wrong with me that I can't even win a match?! The biggest night of my career was Sunday night, and I looked like a fool!" "I thought you looked..." "SHUT UP!" Skull leans back against the wall. "You know what, it's not my problem. This isn't my fault." "You're right... you're just a... um... victim of circumstances!" "Yeah!" "There's nothing wrong with you, it's everything else!" Heff tries to rally his boss' spirits. "Yeah! And you know what is at the core of that problem?" Skull posses and obviously rhetorical question. "... You." Skull grimaces and locks his stare onto Heff. "It's your fault that I'm losing. You're no help to me at all! What am I paying you for?! You've never pulled your own weight, not even once! Even a slug can pull it's body across the ground, I'm not even sure you can do that! The bottom line is... if I don't start winning, then you're fired!" Skull heads straight towards the door... "And get me a title shot!" ... and slams it behind him. Heff stands there in shock for a moment, his head hanging in shame. He looks around the room before moaning one final word. "... fired?"

SWF Aftershox returns from the Cow Palace where the ecstatic fans are rallied for the upcoming main event. The camera pans through the throngs of rowdy fans who flash their signs or show their merchandise until it reaches ringside. Ben Hardy sits in place of Longdogger Pete and the Suicide King sits next to him with a frown. “Welcome back,” Ben Hardy says, acting as a replacement for LDP, “we are back and ready for the main event. We are still off the heels of the amazing Clusterfuck and this show has been just as hot.” King sighs. “Honestly, are you two the best we could do as replacements?” The camera pulls back to reveal the one and only, Bobby Riley. “Oh come on King, two men are always better than one,” he innocently says. King tries to pass his laughter off as a cough but fails miserably. Riley innocently asks, “What? You can’t honestly say that two men can never be as exciting as three. Two’s company, but three’s a crowd, you know?” King shamelessly bursts into laughter. “Anyway,” Hardy says to end the awkward moment. “It’s time for our main event and it looks to be absolutely insane. That’s right, the Insane Luchador, Andrew Rickmen, is making his return tonight!” “That was an awful segue,” King mumbles as he misses his usual partner. “He is here for some hardcore action,” Riley says while Hardy makes a preemptive slap at King’s shoulder. “He is going to face off against The Crimson Skull in a hardcore match.” “Man, I could have sworn he was reported…” “No,” King cuts him off quickly. “THIS MATCH IS FOR ONE FALL AND IT IS A HARDCORE MATCH… THERE ARE NO RULES AND NO TIME LIMIT…” Suddenly sparks explode from the stage as the fans begin to express their displeasure. Six scantily clad women, to numerous pathetic cat calls, come out from the entrance ramp. Everybody dance now! “Gonna’ Make You Sweat” by C&C Music Factory kicks up as The Crimson Skull and his assistant Heff step out. “Now that is one thumpin’ bass beat,” Riley says. The ripped Crimson Skull, evil hero extraordinaire, begins his way to the ring in his black spandex shirt, complete with red crimson skull, black tights, and a silver belt while his red cape flaps behind him. His loyal sidekick Heff fends off the outreaching fans. “INTRODUCING… FROM KIEV, UKRAINE… WEIGHING IN AT 285 AND ACCOMPANIED BY HEFF- THE CRIMMMSSSOOOONNNN SSSSSKKKKKUUUULLLL!” Riley is shocked at the fan’s reaction. “How can you cheer on a crazy dead guy but boo a superhero!” “He’s not dead!” Hardy blurts. “He’s an evil villain,” King sarcastically corrects. The evil duo hit ringside and immediately head over to generic SWF employee #3 to intimidate the ringside crew. He bails out of his steel chair and Heff snatches it then folds it before handing it over. The Crimson Skull throws the chair into the ring and rolls in. He grabs the steel chair and stands tall in middle of the ring where his intimidating stature overwhelms his goofy appearance. On the outside Heff begins to yell final words of advice. “The Crimson Skull has a steel chair and he looks serious,” Hardy says. “…How can you tell, only his mouth is exposed?” King asks. Two loud drumbeats blare followed by a grinding guitar riff. The fans burst into cheers as Alice in Chain’s “Man in the Box” begins to signal Insane Luchador’s return. The red and black pyrotechnics explode on the sides of the entrance ramp. Through the lingering smoke that hovers over the ramp the Insane Luchador is exposed. He looks around to the electric crowd as he is just how the fans remember him. He wears the same baggy khaki cargo pants, beaten black skate shoes, a black and red Zero “Dying to Live” t-shirt, black hair spiked up, and the same unnerving smile plastered on his face. “There he is, alive and well,” Hardy says. “Looking better than ever too,” Riley comments. “Probably just as inept as ever too,” King replies. “RETURNING… FROM EASTON, PENNSYLVANIA AND WEIGHING IN AT 221 POUNDS… IIIIINNNSSAAAANNNEEEE LLLLUUUCCHHHAADDOOORR!” Insane Luchador steps past the entrance ramp into complete light and a very important accessory is seen. He holds his Excalibur, the infamous light tube sword, and lifts it into the air to gather more support. He sprints down towards ringside where Heff begins to move in. Luchador puts on the brakes and raises the sword into the air that sends Skull’s cohort cowering away. He smirks and looks up at The Crimson Skull while he carefully slides into the ring. He scrambles to his feet and walks right over to the man who towers over him by three inches and outweighs him by sixty-four pounds. Matthew Kivell steps in between the two and realizes the total absence of rules. He sighs and steps away to signal for the ring bell. DING! DING! DING! Insane Luchador and The Crimson Skull slowly circle in center of the ring as they both defensively hold their weapons. Suddenly the feel each other out as Luchador narrowly avoids a chair shot. He responds by trying to swing his light tube but whiffs as the Skull moves back. Heff chimes in at ringside with a very logical statement towards the Crimson Skull. “In many senses this could become a handicapped match if Heff joins in,” Hardy says. Skull and IL lunge out as if in a dual. The chair and light tube connect as IL’s Excalibur breaks into a million little pieces. “I bet Luchador could really milk his experiences into a memoir,” King muses. Insane Luchador glances down at the falling pieces as if surprised that steel can break glass. He makes a face of amusement and then looks up to The Crimson Skull but only sees a blur of steel. A vicious chair shot connects with Luchador on top of the head that plants him onto the canvas. The Crimson Skull drops the chair and lazily goes for a cover- ONE! IL kicks out and rolls away to his feet. Skull picks the chair back up while Insane Luchador shoots him a look of surprise that he even bothers to pin him. “It will take a lot more than a simple chair shot to take IL down,” Hardy says. “That’s true,” Riley says. “But how can he possibly outlast a dastardly villain like The Crimson Skull?” “You’re kidding me, right?” Hardy slowly responds. The Crimson Skull makes a blatant charge with the chair held high over his head. Insane Luchador kicks him in the gut to halt his momentum then knees him in the face. He drops the chair and IL kicks it out of his range. He begins to bombard Rickmen with right hands until Luchador blocks one. He throws out a jab and an uppercut that dazes the Skull then finishes off the attack with an Irish whip. Insane Luchador runs into the opposite ropes and the two come charging back at each other. He leaps into the air and smacks his opponent down with a flying clothesline. He uses the momentum to roll out of the ring where he begins to hunt underneath the ring apron. There’s a moment of pause until he pulls out a light tube bundle. “Man he’s really cutting to the chase here,” Hardy says. “When you lack the talent to wrestle usually it’s a good idea to grab some blunt or sharp things,” King replies. He slides the light tube bundle into the ring and continues to rummage around. The Crimson Skull rolls up to his feet and sees the bundle just sitting there. Meanwhile Luchador is fully engaged to find a weapon suitable to his taste and is obliviously to the creeping Heff. The cohort of chaos draws back and smacks Luchador in the kidneys with a kick. He just stands up and slowly turns around to get hit by a right hand that snaps his head to the side. Heff begins to retreat and looks up at Skull who holds the bundle high into the air. He throws it down and they shatter onto his back. This time he reacts as he stumbles forward and turns his attention to Skull. He stares up into the air and gets clubbed from behind by Heff. “Insane Luchador is at a serious disadvantage here,” Hardy says. “He just can’t handle being double teamed,” Riley says. “Well if you were hit and dropped like this kid was, you’d always be at a serious disadvantage too,” King snickers. Insane Luchador reacts quickly as he spins around and smacks Heff in the face with a spinning backfist! He drops to the cement and Luchador slides into the ring. The Crimson Skull begins to stomp on Rickmen before he can even stand to the fans’ disapproval. He grabs IL by the hair and tugs him to his feet. He tries to tie up with the Luchador but receives a quick jab to the face. Insane Luchador knees him in the gut and reaches over to lock in a side headlock. He cranks at The Crimson Skull’s neck but forgets the massive strength of his opponent as he’s shoved off into the ropes. The Skull bounces into the near ropes to be charging at IL. He collides with a vicious spear that smacks IL against the canvas. He hooks the leg while lying on Luchador- ONE! Luchador kicks out again and rolls up to his feet as Skull stands up. The two tie up in center of the ring as they fight for positions. “Insane Luchador really needs to use his speed here no matter how bad he wants to brawl,” Hardy says. “Well don’t tell him that,” Riley says. Finally Skull slaps Luchador’s arms away and grabs IL by the throat. He lifts him into the air and tosses him away. He already rushes towards the downed Luchador but gets taken down with a drop toehold. He slides over on the canvas and grabs the back of Crimson’s head. He slams him face first against the canvas and lifts up his head just to smack it down again. IL stands up and walks over to the steel chair that he picks up with morbid curiosity. He feels its weight out as if just amusing himself as Skull slowly gets to his feet. He charges forward and swings the chair into the air- viciously bringing it down onto Skull’s skull! The super villain’s weakness is exposed to steel moving at high speeds as he crumbles to the canvas. IL drops the chair and Heff senses trouble. He slides into the ring with a kamikaze charge. Luchador simply side steps him and gives a little push letting the momentum take care of the rest. He flies through the middle ropes and Luchador grins in satisfaction. Skull slowly begins to recover. He walks over to the glass shards left over from his Excalibur. He scoops them into his hand and sprinkles them over the chair. Skull groggily gets to his feet and Luchador wraps in a front headlock. Heff shouts as if it’ll do any good as Luchador snaps back to hit the Evenflow DDT onto the chair. He lets the lifeless villain flop over as he hooks the leg- “ONE!” The fans chant. “Oh come on!” King blurts. “TWO!” “It’s like we’re rushing things,” Hardy muses. “THREE!” DING! DING! DING! “YOUR WINNER… INSSAANNEEE LLLUUUCCCHHHHAAADOOORR!” “Well that was an interesting return but IL comes out on top,” Riley says. “Right but I have a feeling things aren’t over, so don’t go away!” Hardy says. -Starwipe-

"Welcome back to SWF AftershoX," announces SWF play by play commentator Longdogger Pete, "live tonight from the sold out Cow Palace in San Francisco, California! It's been a thrilling week of SWF action. We are just five days removed from this year's Clusterfuck, and coming up next is tonight's main event, pitting the Crimson Skull against the returning Insane Luchadore in hardcore action!" "IL is back again?" mutters an incredulous Suicide King at color commentary. "His ass was getting schooled way back when it was fashionable!" "Hey, don't underestimate Insane Luchadore's talent," counters Pete. "It is said that he may have actually come back from the dead! That's never happened here in the SWF!" King raises an eyebrow. "Wait, didn't Mr. Galatea once--" "As I was saying," Pete interrupts, "this will be a big match for both competitors, because--" Suddenly a series of white flashing lights illuminate the stage, and the opening chords of "I'm Alive" by Disturbed begin to play on the speakers. All eyes look to the stage, and out comes Kevin Coyote, dressed as usual in his jean jacket and his black SWF "InJustice For All" T-shirt. Surprisingly, for once, his cell phone is not in his hand; in fact, both hands rest in the pockets of his jacket. Coyote appears superbly focused as he makes his way down the ramp. Never again will I be dishonored And never again will I be reminded We're living within the world of the jaded They killed inspiration It's my obligation To never again, allow this to happen Where do I begin? The choices are endless Denying the sin My art, my redemption I carry the torch of my fathers before me "Kevin Coyote?" wonders Pete. "What the hell's he doing out here? He isn't scheduled for a match tonight!" "I guess the guy's got something to say!" replies King. "Ladies and gentlemen," Funyon announces from inside the ring, "please welcome... KEVIN... COYOTE!" Coyote's arrival is met with loud jeering from the audience, but he merely shakes it off, sliding into the ring as his music continues to play. The thing I treasure most in life cannot be taken away There will never be a reason why I will surrender to your advice To change myself, I'd rather die Lonely, we'll not understand I will make the greatest sacrifice You can't predict where the outcome lies You'll never take me alive I'm alive I'm alive I'm alive As "I'm Alive" fades out, Coyote takes his right hand out of his pocket and motions to Funyon to hand him the microphone. Funyon does so, and Coyote waits a moment for the booing to die down before speaking. "As you all know," Coyote says, addressing the audience, "I was unsuccessful in winning the Clusterfuck match this past Sunday. That honor went to Wes Davenport--" A round of applause goes up from the San Francisco crowd as they are reminded of Wes Davenport's impressive performance. Coyote continues speaking on the microphone, while keeping his left hand jammed in his pocket. "--and he certainly deserves all the accolades he gets. As for me, I was the thirteenth man to enter and the fifteenth man to be eliminated. I was thrown out by the Ultraviolent Champion, Bruce Blank. Now I'll get my chance to get back at him soon enough - but that's another story, for another day. Today, I'm out here with an announcement to make." "Well, here it comes," says Pete. "Here what comes?" asks King. "Whatever information William Hearford has that he's been holding over Coyote's head the last couple of weeks, threatening to go public with!" "One of the SWF's road agents," says Coyote in the ring, "William 'Justice' Hearford, has linked me to a document that has recently come into his possession - a copy of my original birth certificate. He has threatened to go public with the information on it unless I do. So I cannot hold the truth back from all of you any longer. But first... there's someone I need to address, someone I need to face in the ring, right away. Longdogger Pete!" "What?" asks Pete. "Me? Why's he calling me?" "I guess he wants to talk to you!" answers King. Pete continues to hesitate, and King looks impatient. "Well, get up there already!" Pete frowns, then takes off his headphones and stands up, vacating the commentary table and climbing into the ring. He stands up to his full and impressive height of six feet, six inches, and stares down Coyote. "Longdogger Pete," says Coyote, his expression unreadable. "Otherwise known as Peter MacDougal. Eighteen year veteran of this business, a great wrestler, a great champion, and now," Coyote waves the microphone around in the air for emphasis. "A great guy on the mike as well." Pete says nothing, wondering just what Coyote is getting at. "I wanted you up here face to face while I told the world my secret," says Coyote. "You see... my name is not really Kevin Coyote. According to my birth certificate, it's not even Kevin Douglas. My real name... is Ethan... MacDougal... and that makes me... your son!" "WHAT!" hollers King. There is a collective gasp from the audience. Pete stands there, open mouthed, in total and utter shock. He mouths a few words that the microphone doesn't pick up. Coyote helps Pete out, handing the microphone over to him. "A-after all this time," stammers Pete, his voice breaking, "it's you... I didn't realize it would be someone already in the bid'ness..." "Is this even possible?" King says to himself. "Coyote is actually LDP's son?" Coyote actually manages a smile, and in deference to his father, extends his right hand for a handshake. Pete stares at it for a moment, then takes the proffered hand. Instead of a handshake, however, Pete pulls Coyote into an embrace, dropping the microphone in the process. The San Francisco audience begins to applaud. "I hate happy endings," says King. "This is disturbing!" Coyote takes a step back from Pete, pulling away from the hug. He stares at his father, continuing to smile at him... ...as he finally removes his left hand from his jacket pocket... ...as the audience sees the brass knuckles wrapped around Coyote's hand... Pete, staring directly at Coyote's face, never sees it coming. POW! One sharp impact to the side of the face, and Longdogger Pete crumples to the mat like a sack of potatoes. The audience applause quickly changes to a more negative reaction. "Now that's more like it!" squeals King in delight. Coyote kneels over his fallen father, but doesn't let up, continuing to bludgeon the announcer, striking repeatedly across the face with his left hand, bruising and finally busting open Pete's head. "Interesting," says King. "Looks like Coyote's a lefty. Funny how I only just noticed that now." Coyote lifts up Pete's head to survey the damage he's done. He smiles at the sight of the blood trickling down Pete's face. Coyote begins shouting at Pete, and though he no longer carries the microphone, the cameras pick up a few faint words: "You like that, 'dog?' Huh? How do you like that, 'dog?'" His words become quickly drowned out by the audience, picking up a chant of "KEV-IN SUCKS! KEV-IN SUCKS! KEV-IN SUCKS!" Coyote steps away from Pete finally, then climbs out of the ring. As he heads up the ramp, he is passed by a group of EMT's carrying a stretcher. He ignores them completely as he walks back to the stage. "Well this doesn't look good for Longdogger Pete," says King, "as he has just been totally mutilated by his own son! Folks, we've got to go to a break, but what will happen when we come back? Will we have a substitute announcer for the main event? Or will I just be talking to myself? Find out next, right here on SWF AftershoX!" The camera focuses on an image of the medics attempting to coax the 270 pound Pete onto the stretcher, then fades out on them as AftershoX goes to a commercial.

Coming Soon, another addition addition to the Wes Davenport Collection. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ A whole world at war... A military base somewhere in the American midwest. A familiar looking US Army lieutenant (Wes Davenport) is pacing up and down in front of all-black infantry company. The forces of freedom united against a common foe... "Gentlemen, all of Europe is counting on is. It is going to be the actions of OUR soldiers that decide the outcome of this war. And this means YOU soldiers!" he shouts, pointing at them. "We have to do what must be done to save this world and make sure nothing like this ever happens again. We are going to KILL those French bastards and impregnate all of their women!" ...and yet, still divided. Wes walks down the first row of men, stopping to stare another familiar looking one in the face. "Do I make myself CLEAR?" "Yes, sir," the soldier sounds off. The camera closes in on him. "...motherfucker." Wes Davenport is Lieutenant Thomas Teresa Cut to Davenport walking alongside a Colonel. "Sir, I just don't understand why--" "This is a tough mission, so that's why you got it. You know that, surely?" "My name's Teresa, sir." "Oh, sorry." And Samuel L. Jackson is Corporal Martin Luther Vandros Another scene, with Jackson and Davenport face-to-face inside his command tent. "You think I'm gonna' take orders from your white ass just because you outrank me, motherfucker?" "Damn it, Vandros. You may not like me and I may not like you, but your the best man in this entire outfit!" In a story about men... The assault on Omaha Beach quickly comes into view. Soldiers leaving their landers get cut down in droves by swaths of machine gun fire. Explosions rock the beach. The camera closes in on Jackson as he crawls up the sand, before a massive explosion detonates right next to him. Wes jumps in and attempts pull the wounded Jackson up the beach. "Leave me, motherfucker! Leave me!" "I don't leave any of my men behind, goddamn it!" ...Who became soldiers... Another scene, this time in a military hospital somewhere in France. Jackson is bedridden, and Davenport is sitting at the end. "They forced you to resign your command? What is they motherfuckers thinking?" "They think I'm crazy, Vandros. Ike doesn't believe me, but the Nazis are after something. A thing... to rule them all. If they find it, they could still win this war!" "And whatchu want me to do about it, motherfucker?" "Vandros, I know where it is. But I need your help." "Motherfucker... you are crazy. But you saved my life, and I'd follow you to the ends of the Earth." "Would you follow me... to Vietnam?" Who became banded together for glory and won medals of honour on the battlefields of 1942 in the day of defeat... and were also... Davenport and Jackson in a field. Both are weeping, and dramatically embrace each other. "Man... I love you, man!" "I love you too, motherfucker!" ...BROTHERS... Wes and Samuel are suddenly seen charging over the lea of a hill, dressed in kilts and war harnesses, weilding broadswords and wearing facepaint. Behind them, a regiment of musket-wielding minutemen follows. "FREEEEEEEDOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!" Wes bellows as he runs headlong into a crowd of British redcoats, followed by the American revolutionaries. Jackson, however, stops short. "Wait, what in the shit is going on here?" ...FOR AMERCIA! "Goddamn it, they got here first!" Jackson and Davenport somewhere in the jungles of Southeast Asia. German Panzers are engaged, inexplicably, with Viet-Cong forces. "Can't we just let them Nazi and Commie motherfuckers blow each other up?" "Yeah... if we don't get destroyed by them first." Coming this spring to DVD, for the very first time. "It's a ship!" Davenport points up, as a massive UFO suddenly appears, filling the night sky over the jungle. It centers over a squadron of Panzers, before charging up and firing a massive beam that obliterates all of the Nazis. "What the fuck? Aliens? Are they after the thing, too?" "No... I think... they MADE the thing. The communists are aliens! ROBOT aliens!" A story about how war affects us all. The interior of an ancient Indian temple, presumably deep in the south of Vietnam. A Nazi officer is pointing a gun at a wounded Davenport, as well as Jackson. "You can't honestly expect to take over the world like this!" shouts Davenport, holding onto his leg. "The Thing isn't a toy! It will destroy you! And if it doesn't, the forces of freedom--" "Enough! The curtain has only risen on our thousand year reich! But it has closed... on you..." the officer prepares to finish off Davenport, but a new voice interrupts. "Vait. I vil finish off these meddling Americans myself!" "Hitler!" Jackson gasps. "You ain't dead?" "Zat's vat I vanted you to think!" Own the greatest war film never released in any theatre. The same setting, Hitler and Jackson face-to-face. Hitler is clearly Jeremy Irons in laughable makeup at best, trying desperately to hold onto a German accent. "Ze only thing that can save your friend now is the power of the Thing! "But to get it... you vil have to go through me first." "Motherfucker, you expect some bohemian corporal to be a match for me?" Irons laughs and tears off his uniform, revealing a chiseled physique. "I vil show you why we deserve to be ze master race!" Jackson and Irons engaged in badly choreographed grappling, with clips showing Jackson getting the upper hand, knocking Irons to the floor. "This is the end for you, my Furher... motherfucker." "I zink not!" Irons trips Jackson, and then picks him up, throwing him onto his back in a familiar looking maneuver... "Mein Gott! Ze Furher has him in the THIRD RACK!" COMPANY OF HONOURABLY BANDING BROTHERS Cut to Wes and Jackson staring out over a cliff, into the sunrise. "If we work together, we can do anything. Overcome any boundry, any enemy!" "You damn right, motherfucker. You goddamn right." Mankind's darkest hour... mankind's greatest triumph...