the.weej

“We are back and we are LIVE here in Oakland, California!” Cyclone Comet’s voice welcomes viewers back to another sold-out edition of Smarkdown. “Up next we have a super match between two super teams!” Riley seems to take offense to this even this simple comment, “How DARE you even mention those two bumbling fools in the same breath as…“ “…in the same breath as Coy West and Alan Clark? Sorry, but it’s my job to make these matches look even,” Comet chuckles as he cracks a simple smile, causing Riley to nearly explode in rage. “NO! How can you mention West and Clark in the same breath as the House of Todd? You can’t call those two fools super! The only thing they do super is completely suck!” “You may well be the expert in that field, Robert, but Citizen West is the new USJL Champion and survived two other men just last week on Lockdown!” “Anybody can do that!” “Well I’m glad you feel that way, because West already beat Todd Royal in his quest for that championship, and I don’t think adding two more people to the fray will change the outcome one bit!” “Can you not be so blatantly biased!” Riley goes from worshipping the House straight to hypocrisy, which may or may not be in the Book of Todd, depending on who you ask. But as the two announcers continue their petty arguments, the Smarkdown cameras turn their attention to Funyon in the middle of the ring. “Ladies and Gentlemen…the following Tag Team Contest is scheduled for ONE FALL with a sixty minute time limit!” The loud booming voice of the SWF announcer gains the attention of everyone within ear shot, as they all turn to look toward the entranceway. “Introducing first…” Heavenly lights cast their radiance toward the entrance curtain as six words are heard echoing throughout the arena… “Our Todd…is an awesome Toooooodd~!” BOOOOOOOOO! The lights suddenly fade away, before being replaced by blinding blue and white strobes and the opening riffs of AC/DC’s “Shoot To Thrill”. The crowd continues their wild, crazed boos and jeers as the House of Todd appears through the curtain, each with a huge smile on their face. “Coming to the ring at this time…at a combined weight of four hundred and thirty pounds… being accompanied to the ring by Megan Skye…they are TODD ROYAL…LANDON MADDIX…. THE HOUSE OF TOOOOOOOOOOODD!” BOOOOOOOOOO! “This crowd does not know greatness when it is placed before them! They’d probably turn down gold bars for Cracker Jack!” Riley remarks towards the Oakland crowds actions as The House makes its way down the aisle all the while smiling and waving at the obviously chewed off crowd. The trio climb up to the apron with Megan Skye leading the way, who holds the ropes open for her Todd as he climbs into the ring and pulls of his sunglasses with a wink. Landon follows the example of his manager and does the gentlemanly thing for Megan and spreads the ropes wide for her entry into the ring as well. As the two original House of Todd members hold court in the ring, The Disciple follows with a hop over the top rope, landing perfectly on his feet and walking over to his allies. Looking out the crowd with the same looks of arrogance they have had the whole time, all three hold each other’s hands high in the air as the music fades to nothingness and the lights return to normal. “And there opponents…” The House of Todd turns their attention to the entranceway as the lights dim down once again and the thunderous refrain fills the arena. CARRY ON MY WAYWARD SONS… There’ll be peace when you are done Lay your weary heads to rest Don’t you cry no more… BOOM! Two large green flares fire off into the air above the ring, signaling everyone in the building to look toward the curtain, where Coy West and Alan Clark now stand. Their bodies stay frozen and their heads down as “Carry On Wayward Son” continues to blare through the speakers all throughout the building and Funyon makes his announcement. “…at a combined weight of four hundred and seventy eight pounds…they are ALAN CLARK and the SWF United States Junior League Champion “WILD” COY WEST… THE WAYWARD SOOOOOOOOOOOOONS!” These words bring the two men out of their frozen state, as they begin their walk to their ring, a complete look of determination in their eyes. Passing through an utter gauntlet of outstretched arms, the duo slap a few hands, but their attention is clearly placed on their opponents in the ring who have caused West and Clark no end of misery. In return, The House of Todd makes a hasty retreat to the outside as Alan and Coy hit the ring and go to the center of the ring. Each man stands back-to-back with the other their heads drop down once more… BOOM! Four more explosions fire off, each from a ring post around the two men. The sudden nature of it all seems to have affected the House of Todd, as they seem a little reluctant to step in the ring against opponents so ready for conflict. Huddling together, Todd and his Disciple point into the ring discussing some sort of strategy as Referee Sexton Hardcastle passes the men by and slides into the ring himself, urging the House to get into the ring and start the match. But The House of Todd do not seem all that enthusiastic as Coy and Alan stand together side-by-side in the ring. But the House of Todd did not become such a devastating force in the SWF by being complete cowards. Looking at each other in the eyes, Maddix and Royal shout at each other in order to get their spirits high for the combat to come. And so the House of Todd finally decides to enter the fray with full force and slide so hard under the bottom rope that they end up right at the feet of their opponents. DING! DING! DING! Immediately the Wayward Sons go on the offensive with a series of kicks and stomps to the unprepared House of Todd. With Coy grabbing Todd and throwing him to a corner with a series of right hands, Alan Clark drops down on Maddix and chucks right hands at his arch nemesis with anger finally unleashed. But Referee Hardcastle does not allow the brawl to rage out of control for long as he tries to regain order in the ring. Reaching around Clark as the former Cruiserweight Champion continues to pound on the covered up Maddix, Hardcastle finally managed to pull Clark off and forces him to a corner much to the dismay of the crowd. That dismay only grows as Clark tries to fight past the referee and Landon gets back to his feet relatively undamaged from the assault being stopped before it even got a chance to get off the ground. Looking at Clark with a smile, Landon turns and sees Coy as almost a sitting duck as the new USJL Champion continues to single-mindedly maul Todd Royal in a corner until Todd drops from the barrage. But as West pulls Todd right back off the ground, he is met by an attack from behind by the Disciple with a forearm to the back of the head. Together, the two members of The Unnamed hammer away at the USJL Champion and forces West’s throat over the top rope. Grabbing a hold of West’s legs, Royal pulls them up and off the canvas as Maddix runs into the ropes. Reserved to his fate, Alan finally leaves the ring and Hardcastle turns around just in time to see Landon rushing across the ring and jumping over Todd’s shoulders, bringing all his weight down onto Coy’s back with the DOT From Above! The crowds boos grow more intense as Landon exits the ring, giving Todd a heavy advantage in the early goings of the match as Coy drops down to his knees with a hand on his throat. The Cyclone Comet calls out, “I have to admit, the House of Todd always shows great teamwork in the ring and right there was no exception, no matter how unethical it was.” “Unethical! Clark and West attacked them before the bell! Isn’t that unethical?” Riley might have a point, but Comet simply ignores him as Todd continues to simply mock the fallen USJL Champion with a number of light smacks to the back of the head. Pulling West up and off the canvas, Todd puts his hand underneath the jaw of his adversary and spits right in his face as the crowd looks on in shock at the blatant show of disrespect. Finally, Todd whips Coy into the ropes, but the Wild One simply EXPLODES off the rebound! Going air borne West nearly takes Todd’s head off with a huge clothesline that sends the obnoxious megalomaniac flipping over himself from the force! The crowd cheers as Royal falls to the canvas and Coy stays on his feet, turning right back and pulling Todd off the canvas. With another hard Irish whip, Royal hits the opposition’s corner and bounces off, momentarily stunned from the blow. West follows him in and makes a quick tag before going back at Royal, dropping him down face-first into the mat with a hard bulldog. Hardcastle calls for Coy to leave the ring, and as he does Alan comes in, springing off the top rope and floating through the air, crashing down across Todd’s back with an elbow drop. The crowd cheers once more as Alan stays laid across Royal’s back, taking a moment to look across the ring and give Landon a verbal piece of his mind. Royal tries to escape from under Alan’s weight, but Clark simply gives him a right hand to the side of the head, keeping him at bay as he continues the verbal ranting toward Maddix in the corner. “This is simply unsportsmen-like conduct from Alan Clark! Landon’s going to beat him to within an inch of his life as soon as he gets in the ring!” Riley calls out. And sure enough, Landon bursts through the ropes and into the ring, clocking Alan with a hard kick before he can do anything to block the shot. Landon begins to lay down his own verbal beat down as Hardcastle tries to escort the Disciple back to his corner. But it seems as though the only thing he has done was distracting the referee, as Alan is back to his feet in no time simply steaming at the sucker punch. And so, as Sexton is turned around, West leaps into the ring next to his partner and slaps his hands together to simulate a tag before both he and Clark combine to lift Todd off the canvas and drop him back down to the canvas with a double body slam! Turning back around as Maddix and Skye scream about the illegal nature of the move, Hardcastle questions the legality of the exchange as Coy simply shrugs off the question. Cyclone Comet notes the condemnation of the official, “See, Robert…Citizen Hardcastle knows what he is doing.” “Don’t give me that! He’s not doing a damn thing about the illegal exchange!” Riley continues to complain as Coy tags Alan once more. “Well now its back to normal then,” adds The Comet as Alan steps back into the ring. “It seems West and Clark are setting something up here…” And sure enough as Todd is lifted off his feet and onto Coy’s shoulders, who spins him around like a top before dropping him back down with his back towards the waiting Alan Clark. Immediately making his move, Alan catches the dizzy Todd in his grasp with a waistlock and pulls him off his feet once more, dragging Royal over his head before slamming him down with a hard German release suplex! “What a move that was! Citizen Royal could be seeing stars!” Comet exclaims as Coy exits the ring once more, and Landing high on his shoulders, Todd looks like the human equivalent of an accordion until Alan quickly goes for a cover… ONE! TW—NO! “Praise Todd! Alan Clark had to know that he couldn’t keep Royal down with a pitiful suplex like that!” Riley comments. “Well, Citizen Cockroach did have to save him,” adds The Cyclone Comet as Landon again makes his presence known in the match, catching Clark completely off guard as he blindsides him with a kick to the back if the head. Before Sexton can do anything to stop him, Landon grabs Royal by the legs and begins dragging him across the canvas on his back, trying desperately to get him closer to his corner before being sent out of the ring. All of this action brings West back into the equation, as he comes back into the ring and punches Maddix down before taking Royal by the arms and moving him back where he was as the crowd laughs out loud from the sight. “They are treating Todd Royal like nothing but bad furniture in that ring right now!” Comet chuckles to himself, causing a gasp from Riley (but no more) as Sexton tries to regain order, shouting at Coy and Landon to exit the ring. Alan is back up, however, and makes another quick tag to West, and the two men push Todd back to a neutral corner and whip him across the ring with a double Irish whip. Backing into the corner, Coy allows his own partner to send him across the ring with another whip so West can crush Royal underneath a huge corner clothesline! But as West backs away after the blow, Maddix finds another opening to save his master and takes it as he runs down the apron and smashes Coy across the back of the head with a clothesline of his own! WHAM! Ignoring the complaints of the referee, Maddix falls toward his corner as Alan Clark steps into the ring to protest the illegal strike to his partner. But his complaints fall on deaf ears as Hardcastle ushers him right back out of the ring as Royal uses the top rope to glide his way down the ring and to The House’s corner. Finally bringing Maddix back into the ring, the damaged Royal drops down to the floor to receive the loving care of his manager as the crowd groans at the spectacle. But what is of more importance is that Maddix is now taking the measure of the United States Champion with a series of hard kicks and punches to the back of the head as the commentary team talks about this change in fortune. Bobby Riley rants happily, “Coy West made a big mistake there! He put himself in range of Landon and in perfect position for a blindside attack and the House of Todd took huge advantage of it!” “Well it goes without saying that Coy West isn’t exactly an accomplished tag team wrestler. Nobody was expecting these two to come out here tonight and be the next Justice and Rule!” “Duh, Comet…Coy West will never be confused for Ejiro Fasaki in that ring!” Riley’s comment draws a look of confusion from Comet, but it is quickly dismissed as Landon pulls Coy out of the corner and to his feet. Whipping Coy off the ropes, Landon tries to take his opponent down with a clothesline only to have West duck the blow and come off the ropes yet again. But as Coy turns around his face is given the Reebok stamp of approval by way of a huge dropkick from Maddix. Instantly swarming onto West again, The Disciple pulls his right leg off the mat and jams a knee right into the back of Coy’s calf. Clutching at the limb, Coy betrays the fact that the limb is still suffering from the damage of the attack last week from Todd Royal, who is now back up on the apron and recovering from the battering he took early on as Maddix continues to strike where he can. Waiting for West to get up to his feet, Landon swings into motion yet again with a sharp kick to the back of the knee that sends the big man down once more. Coy hits the canvas hard and Landon begins to show his skill as a team player, hooking West by the ankle and dragging him back into his corner. Reaching over his shoulder, Landon makes the tag to Royal before slipping out through the ropes, holding Coy’s leg on the second rope as he goes through. The two men seem to work like a Swiss clock as Todd goes airborne, hopping over the top rope and bringing all of his weight down into West’s right leg. The force of the blow immediately causing Coy to clutch at his knee as it snaps back from the ropes. The crowd boos as Todd drags Coy up, hooking his knee and lifting him off his feet. Todd shows off his deceptive power as he holds him in the air for a few seconds and looks straight over at Clark before driving West down into his knee, the shock of the blow sending West stumbling forward. Coy hits the canvas face-first, his body contorted as he tries to keep his knee from taking any more punishment. Sadly for him though, everyone in the Arena seems to know that Todd isn’t about to quit just yet. Coy is brought back up to his feet, limping heavily as he tries to make it across the ring, completely forgetting Royal for a moment, but only a moment, as Royal puts a boot into the back of West’s knee, dropping him back down. West does not stay down for long, though not his own choice, as he soon finds himself in the air once again, his upper body held over Royal’s shoulder and falling fast, as he is brought back into the House of Todd corner with a vicious back suplex. As Todd gets to his feet, he grabs at Coy’s knee and rolls him over, putting him in prime position for that patented half crab. “Yes! This is what I like to see!” Riley seems jovial with excitement as he wishes that the victory were only a moment away for Royal and Maddix. But luckily for the Wayward Sons, Coy is close to the ropes and he gets to them very easily. Unluckily, Landon is standing right above him, and gives his fingers a hard kick as he grabs the ropes, causing him to pull his hand back in pain. Hardcastle notices the break anyway, and yells at Landon to keep back as the hold is broken by Todd, but Coy is definitely not out of the woods yet as The House of Todd makes yet another exchange. Stepping into the ring with a jaunt, Landon flits across the ring and sucker slaps Alan across the face in order to bring the aggressive rocker into the ring. Stepping in between, Hardcastle keeps Alan from getting to his foe as The House continues to use everything they can to their advantage. And so as Landon pushes West into the corner and lifts his legs off the canvas, Todd wraps the tag chord around the throat of the USJL Champion. Finally realizing that he’s being bated, Alan retreats back out of the ring and allows the official to do his job and break up the illegal double team. Dropping West, The House allows Coy a chance to rest for a moment on the canvas as the two heels smile brightly at each other in celebration of their success. But it does not take long for Landon to move back in and pull the hobbling West up and off the canvas. Pulling him up to his shoulders, Landon dumps Coy to the canvas with a body slam and heads up to the middle turnbuckle. Looking down at West with a smile, The Disciple takes aim and tumbles forward with his summersault legdrop! BUT WEST MOVES ASIDE! Crashing with his spine again the mat, Maddix actually springs back up to his feet before falling right back down to the canvas! “Big mistake by the Disciple of Todd!” calls out The Comet as West starts to pull himself across the canvas towards a waiting Alan Clark. “West needs to make a tag here and he needs to make it now!” But Landon was indeed smart enough to keep his risky maneuvers close enough to his own corner in case of backfire. And as such, he is much closer to bringing Todd Royal back into the ring with a tag as West is still far away from his own salvation. Royal still feels the need to make the however and does so with a hard forearm drop across the back of his opponent before he is anywhere near his corner. Looking over at Clark with a grin, Todd continues to stomp down on the other half of the Wayward Sons as the crowd looks on hopeful that Coy will find a way out of this predicament and somehow make the tag. But for right now, West has a much larger problem as Royal drags him back closer to The House’s corner and goes back to attack on the leg. Stepping in between Coy’s injured leg, Royal steps into his variation of the step over toehold and begins to crank away on the joint. Looking across the ring at Alan once again, Todd winks brightly at the man across the ring as Clark glares back at his foe. But not content to simply share bad looks, Clark starts to clap his hands together time and time again in order to get the crowd behind his partner. “WEST! WEST! WEST! WEST! WEST!” shouts the crowd in time with the claps of Alan Clark. Gritting his teeth under the influence of the crowd, West leans up as far as he can as Royal continues to crank away with the toehold. Finally reaching out and grabbing a hold of Todd’s singlet, Coy pulls his foe into range and punches him right in the face with a right hand! Punching Royal again manages to break the hold and actually knocks Royal backward to the canvas. But when Coy tries to drag himself to his corner, he finds Royal still has his ankle caught in a scissor by the ring technician on the other side of the coin. And with his knee so damaged, Coy does not have the drive he needs to break free and instead finds himself on the wrong end of a double team as Royal tags Landon back into the match. Getting into the ring with leap over the top, Maddix is quick to attack once again with an elbow drop to the head. Pressing a staggering Coy back against a corner, Maddix slams his jaw once again with a European uppercut that sends the USJL Champion strait down to his knees with the very first blow. Grabbing West by his hair, Landon pulls him back to the corner once more and slams his face against the buckle. Not pausing a moment, Maddix hops up to the middle rope and delivers a right hand to West before grabbing him in a front facelock in preparation for taking him down with a Tornado DDT. But as Landon takes to the air, West uses the last of his energy to shuck the smaller man off and toss him across the ring in a heap! Landing on his chest and face, The Disciple rises up onto his knees before falling backward to the canvas. Rising up once again, Maddix virtually dives across the ring with his last gasp to make the tag to his partner. Racing into the ring, Royal makes the move to block the escape of their prey. But Coy drops backward and falls into his corner! “He made the tag! Coy made the tag!” Leaping over the top and into a paused Todd Royal, Clark peppers his opponent with a series of rights and lefts as Royal struggles to deal with this fresh opponent. But he doesn’t have an answer as Alan plucks him off the canvas and drills him with a reverse atomic drop before dropping him once again with a running clothesline. Keeping in motion, Alan turns about just in time to duck under a blow from the resurgent Maddix and spring back up with a sense shattering enziguri that hits Maddix right behind the ear and sends him down to the canvas! Immediately grabbing Todd once again, Alan tosses him across the ring with an Irish whip and immediately follows him in with a cartwheel followed with a springing kick to the side of the head! “ONNNNNNNNE HIT WONNNNNNNDER!” shouts out The Comet as Royal stumbles out of the corner and drops down on his face before rolling out of the ring. Looking to the outside, Alan makes sure he has Todd well in view before heading into the ropes back and forth twice in order to build up his momentum. Getting the momentum he needs, Alan moves into a cartwheel and springs right over the top rope with a space flying tiger drop! THUD! But Megan pulls Todd out of the way! Crashing against the floor, Alan seems half dead as Todd kicks him in the head just to display a bit more of his venom. Tossing Clark back inside the ring, Royal joins his partner in shaking off their cobwebs before going about their business of taking Alan Clark apart. Grabbing Clark around the waist, Royal lifts him up in the air as Maddix runs into the ropes and takes him down to the canvas once more with a Hart Attack clothesline! Immediately grabbing onto one of the fallen rocker’s legs, Royal does not waist a single moment before turning the leg over into the Wrath of Todd! “It’s the dream sequence,” calls out The Cyclone Comet, “and there is only one part of it left!” With Alan laid prone in the figure-four and screaming out in pain, Landon bounces off the ropes for one little piece of humiliation. Coming back to where Alan is caught in agony, Maddix stops in position and breaks into the world’s most favorite dance! Y! M! C! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! WHAT IN THE HELL? Grabbed from behind Maddix looks about in shock for a moment before Coy brings him up and over his head in position for a belly-to-back suplex before JAMMING him right down on his own defenseless partner with a legdrop! WHAM! Destroying his own knee in the process, West falls backward into the ropes as Maddix gets up with a look of shock on his face. Quickly turning from shock to rage, Maddix charges at West only to have the USJL Champion duck out of the way and have Landon fall right over the top rope! But he still has a big problem with another man by the name of Todd Royal who is not too happy about having his own partner dropped on his head. Smashing Coy from behind with a forearm, Todd grabs the exhausted United States Champion and snags him in a full nelson in preparation for the Todd Damn dragon suplex… but there is one problem with that… BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM! And its name is Alan Clark! Just as Coy ducks out of the way, Alan smashes Todd right in the face with a superkick! Quickly leaping on top, Alan hooks the leg for… ONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNE! TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! DING! DING! DING! Funyon calls into the microphone, “The winners of this match… THE WAAAAAAYWARD SONS!” “NOOOOOOO!” Riley screams as Coy and Alan roll to the outside and head up the ramp, getting their hands raised as they walk backstage, leaving the House of Todd alone in the ring. The sheer electricity between the four men only seems to have grown as Comet’s voice takes viewers to commercial… “This is definitely not over yet in Oakland! Stay tuned!”

================================================== Commercial: *Are you tired of having your intelligence insulted?* ...Kid on a couch yawning... *Wanna get...educated?* ...Kid nods... *Well then...SMARK YOUR T.V!* ...Kid smiles...AND GETS YAKUZA KICKED BY TOM FLESHER!!!... *SWF Smarkdown...the truth...HURTS!* ...Kid is out cold, as Flesher grabs his popcorn bowl, and takes a huge handful while flashing a huge-ass grin at the camera... ==================================================== As the show returns from commercial, Bobby Riley and Cyclone Comet are situated at ringside as always... "What the hell was that?" snaps Riley. "The old Taamo would never do something that dumb..." "You're just mad they won't let you do a commercial." Comet retorts. "What was the last commercial you did then, 'oh mighty' Comet?" "... ...right now, we're joined backstage by Landon 'La Cucaracha' Maddix and Megan Skye..." The scene switches to a split screen, with Cyclone and Riley keeping their mugs on screen while the faces of Landon and his 'perfect 10' appear on the left of the screen. The two determined Unnamed members stand glaring into the camera, with Megan just visible off to the side, as in the arena the crowd boo as the duo appear on the SmarkTron. "Thank you for joining us..." "No problem Whirlwind." beams Landon. "It's...it's Cyclone. Cyclone Comet." "Whatever..." Cyclone bites his lip to avoid expletives, which is all the chance Riley needs to take over. "Landon, it is GREAT to see you!" Bobbo beams. "And to have someone sane to talk to. After all, three hours of talking to this idiot night in and night out is no fun. Now, I realise you've got a 'big' match tonight against the 'Wayward Sons'. But, Landon...I've got to ask...how are you doing, after everything that happened on Lockdown." "Well, personally, I feel great." Maddix again beams. "Once again I proved myself to the world by grabbing the 'W' off of Tryst. And, not to mention, that BAH-RUTAL~! superkick I gave Alan Clark. That felt mighty good, of course. The only thing that's bothering me is...maybe, just maybe, I kicked him TOO hard. You see, Alan Clark is now an Ex-Cruiserweight Champion. Which means when me and Honky Tonk Clark do battle at Battleground, it won't be for championship gold." With an indignant look Landon stops, sighing slightly and shaking his head. "Actually...I do have another problem. Coy West...is the USJL Champion. That hick is the man defined as representing the United States. It's ironic, I guess. People talk of the troubles America has. People complain that we need a born leader. Yet, these same people are happy with Coy West being USJL Champion, when Todd Royal would make the perfect United States representative. Then again, considering George...'Dubya'...Bush and Bill 'I'm from Arkansas, ya'll' Clinton made Presidency, it's not that much of a surprise." Landon chuckles at Todd's comments, and Megan promptly follows suit. "Well, as far as tonight goes..." Comet picks up. "...you and Todd are facing Coy and Alan in tag team action. And after yours and Todd's despicable actions in recent weeks towards the two, I guess you're expecting a backlash..." "Desh-picable?" questions Landon. "Thanks for that, Daffy. Our actions speak for themselves Cyclone. You want to call them despicable? Fine...that's your opinion. Our opinion however is that it's what needed to be done. People like Clark and Coy need to be taught lessons...lessons taken straight from The Book of Todd. And the sooner Alan Clark and Coy West learn to be Todd-fearing citizens as they should, the sooner the lessons will end. What they seem to be failing to realise is The House of Todd is the place to be. Now, I see that the two of them are 'bonding' in a run-down bus around the country recently...trying to convince people they're a team. Fact is, there isn't a better tag team in the company than myself and Todd. Annie and Taamo? Beat them. Wild and Dangerous? Phff! Janus and Aecas? More like Anus and Jackass! The In Crowd? Give me a break. There's only ONE Todd in the SWF, and his second name ain't Cortez! See...when you look at me and Todd, you are looking at two men who think as one. You are looking at a pure, out and out team. A UNIT! We have been a unit for months boys. Months. Alan Clark and Coy West have a couple of matches, realise they both suck so badly they can't even beat each other, play with some puppets, get some t-shirts...and suddenly, they're a team? Naw...naw, that isn't what makes a team. What makes a team is two SUPERIOR athletes who have near-telepathic, seamless continuity. And you don't get more continuity than the Todd, and his Disciple!" "LANDON SUCKS! LANDON SUCKS! LANDON SUCKS!" Chants threaten to drown Landon out, but he does his best to ignore them as both Todd on one side of the screen and Riley on the other raise their eyes is disgust. "Whever you like us or not, get used to us...because we're going to be on top for a LOOONG time to come!" "And...your thoughts on Battleground, dare I ask?" Comet sneers. "My thoughts on Battleground?" Landon quickly responds. "Me and Alan Clark, man to man one more time. Need I say more? Look, Alan...on Lockdown you walked to that ring and you tried to put across the importance of this match with your poetic language bull. Fact is, the importance speaks for itself. Landon Maddix and Alan Clark. The last two men to hold the SJL World Championship. The last two men to hold the SJL European Championship. And two men...who just plain hate each other." Gone is the smug grin, as Landon is now beginning to snarl and spit in his fury. "If I can do something drastic, and be serious for a moment..." "Go right ahead." Riley needlessly interrupts. "...myself and Alan competed in some of the most important matches the JL had seen in recent months. European Title...we went tooth and nail twice, put on two great matches, and looked to prove who the better wrestler was. Then, we went 2 out of 3 falls...same story, two guys trying to be the best they can, and putting on a great match." Landon chuckles to himself momentarily, but his happy exterior may not last. "But this time...it shall be different. The name says it all. "Battleground". On that Battleground, myself and Alan will not be looking to out-wrestle each other. I'll look at my flashy, world-class athletisism...and say "fuck you!" Alan will look at his flashy moves, and say "fuck you!" And we will go out...and we will engage in war. It won't be fancy. It won't be a mat classic, or a lucha-esque battle, or a puro fan's dream. It will be...a FIGHT! We will fight...we will brawl...we will go out into that arena with the attention of hurting each other. And I promise you that pain will be delivered...and blood will be shed." "So, can we expect to see a different Landon Maddix?" Comet questions. "You took the words right out of my mouth Gramps. Here's another promise...if you think you know anything about me, then prepare to have your illusions shattered. Alan, I've said it before...you're not the only one with a dark-side. Battleground will be a mad, mad night...but I'm a Mad, Mad...MAD...MADDIX! So Clark...Prepare for... ...an ass kicking..." "Are you not worried by Clark?" Comet asks. "After all, you may not be facing Alan Clark. It could be Bloodshed. It cou..." "It could be Doink The Clark. I wouldn't put it past the idiot. This is the way it goes...it don't matter what Alan Clark dresses like, and acts like, and talks like...all that matters is that he is no Landon Maddix. Right now, you're looking at the elite. The Unnamed are the elite...you don't become a part of The Unnamed by walking around claiming you're the best. You prove you're the best! You have the number one contender and future World Champion...you have the rightful USJL Champion...and you've got me. We didn't get where we are today by fearing people. We got there...by beating people...and that's just the way it is. Alan Clark...I've beat you before, and I will damn sure beat you again. Oh, and Clark, I give you my word...you keep that redneck buddy or yours away, and it will be just you and me. And by that...I MEAN it will be just you...and me." Maddix grins, nodding to Megan before the two leave their position and Smarkdown goes to another word from it's sponsors.

SWF Smarkdown is back on the air, and that usually means that there's a match coming up! But as we pan around the arena to look at the yelling fans, there's a distinct lack of action going on. The camera quickly scrolls down to the announce table, where Cyclone Comet and Bobby Riley sit, both looking grave. The spandex-clad superhero nods to the camrea. "Ladies and gentlemen, our next match was to be Citizen Crow vs Citizen Tryst, but neither man seems particularly interested in wrestling tonight." Comet says sadly. "Both of them showed at the arena, but they were being lazy bastards and didn't want to wrestle, so Zenon sent them out here to get some punishment!" Because the duo aren't prepared to wrestle, they don't even get proper introductions, because of their lack of respect for showing up and wrestling. Crow gets a low-quality, badly ripped version of Britney Spears, "Oops, I Did It Again", while some smart-alecky bugger in the back has swapped Tryst's theme for what sounds like Wheatus' "Teenage Dirtbag." The fans cover their ears at the song, and in the back, one widely grinning Hell Machine enjoys pushing buttons. "This is Crow and Tryst, and this was MEANT to be a wrestling match!" Funyon announces. "But both of these horribly lazy bastards don't want to wrestle, and so Commissioner Zenon has claimed to reach across time and space for their punishment!" "The question is, what type of punishment, Bobby?" Comet wonders. "Your cruel device... Your blood, like ice... One look could kill... My pain, your thrill!" As Alice Cooper's "Poison" rips out of the speakers, there's a sound like lightning striking. Green and purple smoke boils up in the entranceway, parted only by an advancing figure. Dressed in a black catsuit, with long black hair and rather ferret-weasel-esque features, stands the creature known as Ebony. She idly inspects her claws on the way down to the ring, while the crowd watches in stunned shock. "What on earth IS that thing, Comet?" "I think it's... what do they call them...? A furry." "I really hope that's a suit." "Given the way she nearly took a bite out of that poor fan who nearly touched her chest, I don't think it is, Robert." "It could be worse." Riley sighs. "True. We could be treated to live-action Nemesis. Or Suma." The announcers, the fans, and even the entering-the-ring Ebony shudder at that line. Gawking at the ferreasel, Tryst lunges forward with a shout of 'fiend!' and gets bitchslapped right across the face. Ebony calmly slaps Tryst around a bit more, and then when the nutcase from Sherwood runs forward again, she just plants a soccerball style kick straight into his nuts! The crowd winces in sympathetic pain as Tryst falls to the ground, and Ebony calmly inspects her clawed toes and the drips of blood staining the canvas. "Ouch." is all Riley and Comet have to say. Crow, lounging in the turnbuckle, only sees Ebony from behind. Having not been paying attention, and seeing only black hair and a womanly figure, he steps forward and wraps his arms around Ebony. His hands land right on her chest, as he grins lopsidedly. "Hey, baby." he chuckles. Ebony stands stock still. So still you know she's probably going to blow her top. "Asshole." she hisses back. The mule kick she plants into the bird's nuts makes everyone wince. As Crow stumbles back in pain, she spins around and plants a kick into his jaw, sending him flying back into the turnbuckles. He slumps in a sitting position, and the ferreasel promptly grabs the ropes, then lifts her foot and begins stomping hard on the Antichrist Superstar's naughty bits! *STOMP! STOMP! STOMP! STOMP! STOMP! STOMP! STOMP! STOMP! STOMP! STOMP! STOMP! STOMP! STOMP! STOMP!* Half the crowd shudders, but the feminists and lesbians in the crowd begin counting along as she stomps away, ignoring Crow's pitiful wails. The Antichrist Superstar is already going pale in the face, but the ferreasel shows no signs of stopping as she just stomps...and stomps...and stomps. Wait, here's Tryst to break it up! *DING!* No, wait, she just mule-kicked his nuts with her other leg while stomping Crow's testicles into a flat and mushy heap. She finally slows down... *STOMP!* "FORTY TWO!" *STOMP!* "FORTY THREE!" "She just broke the consecutive nutshot record!" Comet gasps. "In-fucking-credible!" Riley responds, with one of the many uses of the word 'fuck'. Ebony stomps twice more to bring the nutshot count up to an even forty-five, before she steps back and flourishes two knives. The crowd gasps, as she points them at the downed Tryst and the vomiting Antichrist Superstar, who both nod their heads as she demands that they actually show up next time. She calmly flourishes the knives and soccer-punts both Crow and Tryst in the nuts one more time, and leaves the former vomiting his guts out and the latter writhing in pain as she strolls up the ramp. "Your cruel device... Your blood, like ice... One look could kill... My pain, your thrill!" "Poison" rips out of the speakers once more as the ferreasel strides up the ramp, with numerous EMTs heading in the other direction to get to the ring.. A trail of purple and green smoke follows her - whether she generates it herself or it's a special effect, who knows. On the ramp, she nearly collides with Alexander Zenon, who eyes her with a grin on his face. With narrow eyes, the ferreasel -nearly- punts the Interim Commissioner in the nuts too. "You owe me for this." she hisses. "I'll deliver the Onitas as I said, and we'll cut you some slack in the next Suma riffing. How's that?" "Deal." the ferreasel nods, striding backstage. Zenon simply watches with a grin a mile wide on his face as Crow and Tryst ares stretched out of the ring with severe testicular damage. Which is why one should never really no-show when your Interim Commissioner have access to a psychotic lesbian ferreasel. Fade to black. Show up next time, you lazy cunts.

SWF Smarkdown explodes with a radiance of energy as the camera zooms around the arena. The fans get on their feet and cheer, holding up their own little cardboard signs. "Luchador had my baby!", "The Antichristian Phenom" and "What the fuck?" are all seen. The camera zooms around the ring and then over to the announcers table. "Hello ladies and gentlemen and welcome to another exciting episode of SWF Smarkdown! Riley here as always with my commentary partner Cyclone Comet." says Riley. "Don't I usually do the opening introductions?" asks Comet. "Yeah but you suck at them you masked freak," Riley fires back. "Besides... this is the last show before Battleground! It's about time we start showing a little professional atmosphere around here. Why don't you take that mask off?" "Never!" shouts Comet. "Come on, you look stupid in it. Give it up already." "Why don't you go tell that to citizen Rickmen and see how he feels?" quips Cyclone. "Why don't you just introduce our first match?" Riley fires back with a snotty attitude. "Gladly. Our first match of the night is sure to be a thriller citizens as three men face off in the squared circle; Austin Sly, Jacob Helmsley, and Edward James. These three young men, none of who have even broken thirty, would like nothing more than to walk out of here tonight with another win." proclaims Cyclone. "Don't forget that Sly and Helmsley are no strangers to each other either. Sly had his debut match and his first win against Jacob last week." says Riley, playing the antagonist. "Yes. These two are already building a history with each other. They might want to put their differences aside though if they plan on defeating the physical specimen that is Citizen James." "Now hold on," snidely replies Riley, "I wouldn't give too much credit to the rookie here. Both Helmsley and Sly have more in-ring experience than James, and neither one is a stranger to pain. Remember, it took two steel pipe shots to the head to put Helmsley down last week." "Well looks like our match is about to get underway. We'll just have to find out for ourselves Bobbo." A cooling blue light engulfs the arena as the sound of an acoustic guitar fills the air. It’s a powerful, driving riff. Austin emerges from the back with a calm strut. The lights in the arena get more violent and start to swirl as he stretches his neck and arms at the top of the stage. "The following match is a triple threat match and is scheduled for one fall," begins Funyon. "Making his way to the ring from St. Louis, Missouri, weighing in at 230 pounds, Austin Sly!" The fans boo Austin slightly as he walks down to the ring deliberately ignoring the fans around it. When he arrives at ringside he jumps up onto the apron and hooks his arm on the top rope before looking around the arena vaguely. He climbs in through the middle ropes and walks to the far turnbuckle where he leans and waits for his first opponent. Everything has been said before There's nothing left to say anymore When it's all the same You can ask for it by name The opening lines of "This Is The New Shit" by Marilyn Manson hits as Jacob Helmsley emerges from the back with steel pipe in hand followed closely by his new manager Joseph Corbin who is dressed in a full Armani suit. "Making his way to the ring from Calgary, Alberta, Canada; weighing in at 227 pounds, Jacob Helmsley!" says Funyon. Jacob makes his way up the ring steps and into the ring while Joseph stands at ringside clapping. Jacob enters the ring with steel pipe still in hand as he points it across the ring at Austin. Austin wants no part of this though as he motions for Helmsley to put the pipe down. Jacob starts to walk toward Austin, but Austin is cautious and slides beneath the bottom rope and refuses to get back into the ring before Jacob gets rid of his coat and pipe. Helmsley agrees and hands his coat and pipe off to Joseph. The lights go out completely in the arena leaving Helmsley standing alone in the ring staring up the ramp and Sly standing outside the ring on the apron. The words "an overwhelming symbol of power" echo throughout the arena over the now cheering fans. The lights shoot back on though as Helmsley is dumped over the top rope by Sly. Funyon quickly flees the ring. DING DING DING "Well it looks like Edward James isn't even going to get a proper entrance here." Chuckles Riley. Sly follows Helmsley out of the ring as James continues his slow decent down the ramp. Sly tries to put some early pressure on Helmsley as he lands right hand after right hand to his temple. After he has Jacob knocked a little off balance, Austin quickly turns his attention to Edward who has now made it to ring side. However, Austin is quickly met with a belly to belly suplex that lands him hard on the ramp and gets a gasp from the crowd. Sly grasps at his back while laying on the ramp. James turns his attention away only to be met with a boot to the gut from a recovered Helmsley who then rolls his larger opponent into the ring. Helmsley follows him in. The two quickly lock up, but it doesn't last long as James comes out with the obvious power advantage and delivers a foot to the gut of Jacob. James brings Helmsley back up to an upright position before delivering a hard knife edge chop to his chest. Helmsley reels around clutching his chest, but when James tries to turn Helmsley back around to deliver another knife-edge chop, he's met with a thunderous right hand. James falls to the mat surprised, and when he gets back up, he receives another right hand for his troubles. "That's how you keep a big man down, citizens." Cyclone comments. Edward learns quickly though as he blocks Helmsley's third punch attempt with an arm drag that sends his opponent down to the mat. James doesn't waste any time as he quickly pulls Helmsley back up to his feet and fires him across the ring with an Irish whip. Jacob bounces off the ropes and comes back across the ring at James. He's met with a surprise though as Helmsley jumps and brings a high knee into his face, flooring the bigger man. "He didn't see that one coming I bet" Quips Riley. Helmsley tries to keep James down with sharp kicks to his side. Between kicks though, James manages to shift himself closer and closer to the ropes, which he uses to pull himself back up. Helmsley goes to Irish whip James across the ring, but it's reversed. Edward then ducks an attempted clothesline and hits a falling neck breaker that leads to our first attempt at a pin! One! Two! And a kick out! Edward lumbers back to his feet pulling Jacob back up with him. Edward quickly locks back up with him and hits a snap suplex, wearing at the neck of Jacob Helmsley. Edward pulls Helmsley back to his feet again, and once again hits a snap suplex bringing him down on his neck and back. Edward pulls Helmsley to his feet yet again, but this time Helmsley surprised Edward and sends him across the ring with an Irish whip. This doesn't work out so well for Helmsley though as he gets grounded again with a hard clothesline. "Jacob Helmsley might be the more experienced of the two in the ring today, but right now it looks like the rookie is teaching him a thing or two." chuckles Riley. "I thought you didn't like Citizen James, Bobbo?" asks Cyclone. "Where'd you get that idea from?" responds Riley. "He just doesn't seem to match your style." Cyclone mumbles. Helmsley stays down for a few seconds, but James is more than happy to help him back to his feet again. It's easy to see that the rookie feels he has control of the match with his swagger in the ring. He lines Helmsley up, and snap suplexes him toward the ropes. James climbs back up along with Helmsley, who seems a little disoriented by his position in the ring. "That's three snap suplexes. Must be his favorite move or something citizens." Cyclone remarks simply to antagonize Riley. Yet again, Edward lines up for a snap suplex. He quickly locks his grip on Jacob, but when he lifts up suplex him, he's met with great resistance! Jacob starts to fight back with an elbow to his opponent’s temple, followed quickly by two more. Edward whips around trying to protect his face from any further injury, this however opens an opportunity for Jacob to lock on a full nelson. Jacob quickly lifts Edward up and brings him back down hard with a full nelson slam. Helmsley tries for the pin. One! Two! Kick out after two! "Neither man seems to be making any headway here." quips Riley. Austin finally makes his way into the ring after his hard landing on the ramp. He stands at the ropes waiting for Helmsley to climb off of James. Once Helmsley stands up, he turns around to a super kick from Sly. But he was prepared for it as he blocks the kick and shoves it around. Austin gets all twisted up and stumbles backwards into Jacob's waiting arms to which he receives a German suplex! "There's an unfortunate turn of events for Citizen Sly." Cyclone comments. Sly is quick to get back to his feet, but so is Helmsley as he delivers a clothesline to Austin to knock him back down to the mat. He tries for a quick cover. One! No! James quickly breaks up the pin. "Doesn't look like the rookie wants to lose that way." Riley comments inquesitly. Austin quickly exits the ring again as James pulls Helmsley to his feet. Helmsley quickly breaks James' hold on him and puts a knee into his stomach. Helmsley quickly shoves James back into the corner, before Irish whipping him across the ring to the other corner. "Corner to corner, I like that." quips Cyclone. "Yeah... okay..." Riley replies confused. Helmsley comes running in after him and hits a devastating gore in the corner. James comes stumbling out of the corner only to receive a kick to the stomach followed quickly by an evenflow DDT. "This could be over here!" Cyclone yells. Helmsley covers James and hooks the leg. One! Two! Thr No! Austin pulls Jacob off of Edward and out of the ring to break up the pin. The crowd starts to get all over Austin for breaking up the pin, yelling and booing him. Jacob quickly tries to get all over Austin too, but he turns and runs away. Jacob gives chase around the ring. "Citizen Sly sure seems to run a lot." comments Cyclone. "I think it's to keep in shape mostly." replies Riley. Austin rolls back into the ring and runs across it, ducking a clothesline from Edward. Jacob however isn't lucky enough to see it coming as he gets sent down hard. James tries for the pin. One! Two! Kick out before three! James rolls off of Jacob and takes a defensive stance, trying to rethink his mode of action. Helmsley slowly pulls himself back to his feet, eyes locked on the rookie. "What's citizen Sly doing here?" comments Comet. Austin Sly decides to re-enter himself in the match by climbing the corner turnbuckles. He perches on the top turnbuckle waiting for Edward to turn to face him. When Edward finally turns his attention away from Jacob he turns to see Austin come off the top rope looking to hit Edward with a body press. Unfortunately for Austin though, Jacob has a quick enough reaction time to catch Austin in air and turn around and use his momentum against him and slam him down on the mat. "I don't think that's what citizen Sly was going for there, Bobbo." remarks Comet. "Well sometimes you've got to take a risk to win a match and the risk just didn't pay off here." replies Riley. "You've got that right. It doesn't look like he's getting up too fast either." Comet quips. Austin slowly staggers back to his feet right between Jacob and Edward, only to receive a hard right hand from Edward. "One!" Sly's body jerks back and around only to receive another hard right hand from Helmsley. "Two!" He receives another hard right hand from James. "Three!" And another right hand from Jacob, this one sends him toppling out of the ring between the two center ropes though. "Four!" Jacob quickly clotheslines Edward to keep control of the pace of the match. "Well that wasn't fair to Austin! This is supposed to be a triple threat match not a handicap one!" shouts Riley. Helmsley pulls James up by his hair before sending a hard right hand to the face of his opponent. James reels back a little ways, but quickly comes back with a hard right hand of his own sending Helmsley reeling back a little ways. Helmsley comes right back swinging though... only to have his punch ducked by the rookie. James wraps Helmsley's arm behind his neck and picks him up, nailing a picture perfect back body drop. "He's got a lot of finesse for a rookie, eh Bobbo?" quips Cyclone. "He's still a rookie though and I think it's his own mistake that's going to take him out of the match." replies Riley. James quickly pulls Helmsley back to his feet, before trying to send him back down with a right hand. Helmsley blocks it though and sends James down with a knife edge chop. Edward climbs back to his feet only to get sent down again with another knife-edge chop. Edward pulls himself up again, and receives another knife-edge chop and another. Edward staggers back up and gets sent across the ring with an Irish whip. He bounces back off the ropes toward Jacob. James gets sent to the mat with a spine buster from his opponent. Helmsley backs away, stalking his opponent. "This doesn't look too good for citizen James. Citizen Helmsley seems to have him right where he wants him." comments Cyclone. "Yeah... what'd I just tell you? It's over here, there's no doubt about that in my mind." replies Riley. James is slow to climb to his feet after the clothesline. Helmsley kicks James in the stomach causing him to fold over. Helmsley grabs James' arms as he walks behind him and wraps his arms around his back pulling him back up to a standing position setting him up for the Black Stallion! "If he hits this it's all over!" shouts Riley. Jacob hits the Black Stallion and holds the bridge for the pin! One! Two! Austin breaks it up with a kick to Jacob's ribs. "No! The match goes on!" shouts Comet. Jacob rolls over and away from Edward. Austin quickly pulls Jacob to his feet and sends him into the corner with an Irish whip. Austin moves Jacob out of his ways and climbs to the second corner, holding onto Jacob's head in a headlock position. Austin jumps off the turnbuckle putting his entire weight into a Tornado DDT. Helmsley slams down hard onto the mat landing parallel to the ropes. Sly runs to the ropes jumping onto the middle rope, coming off of it with the Sky Surfer! Austin hangs on for the pin. "Is this it?" One! "This can't be!" Two! "It's over!" Three! "We have a winner!" Cyclone comments throughout. "Citizen Sly has picked up his second win over Citizen Helmsley in the past week! This relative newcomer is on a roll!" "He has potential, but can he reach it?" comments Riley. Austin quickly rolls out of the ring and raises his right arm in victory. He backs up the ramp, looking at Helmsley laying on his back in the ring for the second time in a week.

Card: TRIPLE-THREAT OF DEATH!! Austin Sly vs. Jacob Helmsley vs. Edward James Three directionless foes face off in hopes of finding direction! A single chance to rise above the “no-showing curtain-jerker” status, it is highly advised that they all write and write to WIN!! Rules: First pinfall or submission wins. No Count-outs, no DQ, but don’t go too crazy with that. Exciting Singles Match of Epic Proportions!! Tryst vs. Crow Two men coming off of disappointing losses, one has to wonder if they’re living up to their full potential!! But tonight, one of them will have a chance to bounce back!! Will it be Tryst, who showed one buttload of potential when he returned to the SWF last Lockdown, or will it be Crow, who – after suffering a loss at the hands of Dace Night last show – really needs to get back on the horse and take home a “W” tonight?? You’ll have to wait and find out!! Rules: Typical singles match rules. Excitement!! TAAAAAAAAAAG TEAM EXTRAVAGANZA!! “Coyote” Coy West and Alan Clark vs. The House of Todd Todd hates Coy!! Coy hates Todd!! Alan hates Landon!! Landon hates Alan!! Todd loves Landon!! Landon loves Todd!! Coy and Alan love each other by default because they each hate a member of a tag team and so it’s only logical!! …Can anyone find a reason for all of them NOT to do battle!? Rules: Typical tag match. The way it should be. Two Winners Face Off So One of Them Can LOSE!! “La Sensation Senegalaise” Said vs. Toxxic Very little is known about this new “Said” fellow, but what IS known is that he debuted in excellent fashion on Lockdown, picking up a win with the help of Chris Card!! Now that he has an SWF contract, can he continue his winning streak by defeating one of the most impressive up-and-coming stars in the entire federation!? Rules: Normal singles match because I <3 them. Stable Mates Go Hardcore!! Dace Night vs. Aecas It is said that Aecas is the #1 Contender for the Hardcore Title, and will probably be facing Toxxic at the upcoming PPV!! But, since the SWF bookers are eVil and like to make best friends kill eachother for their amusement… Aecas’ warm-up will be none other than the Horrorcore King himself, Dace Night!! Oof!! Rules: Hardcore, anything goes… hopefully after this Dace can have a break from all of this violence shenanigans, as I’m sure that by now he’s quite sick of hardcore matches. TAG TEAM TITLES YEEEEAH!! LADDER STYLEZ!! Wild & Dangerous vs. The In Crowd Wild and Dangerous never got a chance to regain their tag titles… but now that they’re in the hands of new champions… well, all for the better!! These two have some unfinished business with their former ally, Mike Van Siclen, anyway, and seeing as how he has their gold… all the more reason to kill him!! Oh, and because this card is nearly gimmick-free and all of these guys like to jump on eachother, it’s a ladder match. Huzzah. Rules: …It’s a ladder match. C’mon, figure it out. Two Badasses Kick Eachother’s… Uhm, Badasses! Janus vs. Nathanial Kibagami Nathan is awesome and everything, and he’s aiming really high who-he-wants-to-kill-wise, but he sure does lose a lot!! Hopefully by booking him up against an unstoppable monster… well, who knows what we’re trying to achieve!! Make us proud and win, Kibsy!! Rules: Again, normal singles match. Man is this card gimmick-free or what. Feuds Abound In Tag Team Action!! ”The Superior One” Tom Flesher and “Notorious” John Duran vs. “Grappler” Charlie Matthews and Ann Onita Don’t we all love Pay-Per-View hype? There’s so many things going on here between these four… well, if I explained it all, your head would explode, and – well – this is a new shirt. The PPV is coming up… who will be going in with the upper hand?? Rules: Standard Tag Rules. Yeeeeah.

Tom Flesher sits in his locker room on the small couch in front of a coffee table and a ring monitor. He wears a long-sleeved Superior One rugby shirt and a pair of jeans, and leans forward. He props his elbows on his knees as he pulls a Camel Turkish Royal from the pack in front of him. “Ann Onita,” he says as he lights the cigarette, “I’m not sure if you know what happened on Lockdown. Maybe I should clear up a few things.” He takes a drag on the cig, exhaling a cloud of smoke. His cold blue eyes show no emotion, and his face is stone. He doesn’t look ashamed of himself, or particularly proud. His tone is even, and despite his usual touch of arrogance, he seems to be totally devoid of feeling. “First of all, Ann, is the most glaringly obvious point. You weren’t carrying your weight. I know that and you know that. The fans knew that. Allison knew that. They could tell as soon as we got into the ring. I was the one doing all the work, Ann. You remember what it was like working out together before the matches. You didn’t have the work ethic you needed to keep up with me, and so I had to take charge and up the intensity in the practice room. I had to coach you on timing and how to work in a tag team, and you resented me for that. When we got into the ring, you insisted on wrestling your own match, and I suffered for it.” Tom takes another hit off his cigarette. “When we lost to Maddix and Royal, I knew things were going to get worse before they got better. If you’d just listened to me and to Allison, you wouldn’t have gotten caught.” Flesher ashes his cigarette into the ashtray, then leans back. He crosses his arms across his chest and continues in his measured tones. “I thought I’d give you a second chance. I know that I’m good enough to take Janus and Aecas singlehandedly, and I assumed you’d be able to deal with a rookie and a guy who’s never quite been able to get off the ground. You proved me wrong again, Ann. That just goes to show the old saying… fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. I could tell early in the match that you were going to fool me again, but I stuck it out until the last minute. I could see it in your eyes when you were trying to tag out to me that you didn’t really mean it, Ann, and that’s why I walked out on you. You hit one Drop Kiss and think I’m going to go in there and clean up after you? That’s just bad policy, and you know it.” Flesher drags again, exhaling another cloud of smoke. He continues staring at the camera. “But I knew right from the start that this wasn’t going to work out. You’ve never made an effort to forget what happened in the Magnificent Seven, I understand that. I know that you felt like I treated you as subhuman, when I was just trying to motivate you. You thought I was somehow treating you as less than a contributing stable member, when I treated you just as well as I would have treated Judge, Ejiro or Fugue if they’d pulled the kind of crap you did. As it was, Ann, they were the valuable members of the stable, and so they got rewarded. If you can’t see past that, I’m sorry, but I can’t be expected to compensate for your inabilities.” “It’s unfortunate what’s happened to us, Ann, but you can’t blame me for it. It was your fault we lost each of those matches. It was your fault you didn’t get top billing in the Magnificent Seven. It’s going to be your fault that Charlie Matthews gets a check in the Loss column tonight.” Flesher takes one final drag, then carefully stubs out his cigarette in the ashtray. “You have no one to blame but yourself.”

From the cold, clinging chill of Iowa to the endless sun and perpetual warmth of California, the SWF's travel schedule could catch even the most veteran members of the federation's staff by surprise. But a jarring trip from the dull midwest to the brightly coloured neon distraction of Cali was not an unwelcome one. Long beaches of glittering golden sand, fast cars, fast women, red hot temperatures and red reflections of firey sunsets on the gentle waves of the ocean. Everyone loved California. "I hate this fucking place," snarls Alex Zenon, loosening his tie and unbuttoning the collar of his white shirt from within what will be used as his office inside the Arena in Oakland. Even within the enormous concrete structure, Zenon can still feel the infernal heat. A New Jersey boy thorugh-and-through, it's almost impossible for him to comprehend THESE tempratures at THIS time of year. Trying his best to block it out of his mind, Zenon returns his attention to the files set up on his makeshift desk. Match contracts, medical reviews, copies of the staium rental forms, a few letters from White Apple and Noble Gas television... nothing unusual, but never the less another daunting pile of paper that must be waded through before the day is out. Zenon knows what he needs to do, and yet... he finds himself drifting back to that one folder, that one file, that one little piece of paper. Tiredly reaching out for a dossier and opening it, Zenon pulls a contract out from within, and sighs. That's all it is, really. Nothing more than a single, thin print of paper. But it might as well be made out of stone, because it is unbreakable. Untearable. Unbearable. Sadly, almost with a kind of regret, Alex's eyes drift to the matching scrawl at the bottom of the document. Next to Nathaniel Kibagami's unusually neat, simple and clean signature is Mark Stevens' impressive, wavy autograph. To think all that stops him is a miniscule amount of ink is just... **knock knock** The sound of someone knocking on the door frame of Alex's office snaps him out of his moping. Miserably, the commissioner turns on his heel and murmurs, "What is... oh." He pauses upon making eye contact with an unmistakable Asian face. "Annie..." With half-grin on her face, Ann Onita greets Zenon with a, "Hey, Alex." "I... I--come in! Sit down! I didn't think anyone would be here today," says Alex, trying to sound as friendly as possible while brushing a few folders off the long chair facing his desk. "Mainly because I didn't think anyone really knew I was here, heh." "Well, I called your secretary," Ann begins, as she steps inside the tiny office and takes a seat. "She told me that you'd be in here for what's left of the day, so I figured I'd drop by. Cute redhead, by the way. Nice choice," adds Onita with a wink. "Well, she's really Mark's secretary," Alex replies, leaning against his desk. "I don't he was really interested in her looks when he picked her out or whatever--more like... typing ability." Ann raises an eyebrow at Alex, who decides it may be best to change the topic. "Anyway! What do you want, Annie?" "Awww... can't an old friend drop by and say hi to someone she hasn't seen in months?" Alex pauses for a moment, and takes good, long look into Ann's eyes. She gives him a confused look as his face softens a little, and then... Alex sighs and shakes his head. "No. No, you can't... that's not what you want. I can tell." Ann blinks at Zenon's speech, and then shrugs. "Alex, that's not... really true. I've never come to the commissioner asking for anything in my career. Stubby, King, Mark; it hasn't mattered." Ann smirks. "I'm the hardcore queen, boy. The only help I've needed with my problems are through a steel chair or a wooden cane." Alex's demeanour lightens again, seemingly genuinely believing Ichiban's words. "Alright, Annie. But you have to be here for something." Onita pauses, and then inspects the floor for a few minutes. "Yeah, well... this isn't really my problem, y'see. It's about Allison, Z." Alex flinches at being called "Z," but he tries to ignore it. "Your twin sister, right?" "Yeah," Ann nods. "Look, it's just... you know, it's just watching her. She's getting too close to Flesher, Alex; it bothers me. I mean, surely you've noticed..." Alex nods as Ann trails off. "Yeah, alright. So are you worried about how that could interfere with you?" "What?" mouths Annie, taken aback. "Hell no, Alex! Gods, why would I be worried about what my sister could do to me? I'm worried about what Tom could do to her! You know that bastard's a lying, slimy, manipulative..." Ann regains her composure, trailing off. "What I mean is, you saw what he did to me on Lockdown. You know what he's done in the past. Hell, Alex, you might know Tom's ins and outs better than anyone besides Frost." Alex mutters something... uncivil under his breath at the memtion of Frost's name, getting a light chuckle from Annie. She continues, "Anyway, what I want your help with is... keep Allison away from Tom. Well, actually, keep Tom away from Allison until I can figure out some way to show her that he's creep through and through." Zenon's face falls as Annie says this, and he scratches the side of his head irritably. "Like do what, exactly?" sighs Alex. "It's not like I can put a restraining order on Tom or something." "No, but you can handcuff him!" shouts Ann. "You can't stop him from getting close to her outside the arena, but within the shows... you could put him on probation. Tell him to keep on the other side of the arena, or get tossed out! You could threaten to have his match results thrown out if he gets near her! Trust me, Alex, I can keep an eye on Ali, and--" "Annie," Alex grumbles, now sitting in his desk chair and propping up his head with his hand. "That's ridiculous." "Not it's NOT," pleads Onita. "Tom has a plot, Alex, and it INCLUDES swallowing up Ali whole! She's... she's a little naive, Alex, and Tom knows it. She's going to get hurt, and I need to do everything I can to stop it!" "Uh-huh," drones Alex. "And exactly what evidence do you have of ANY of this? Wildchild could live on the top rope for months and still not get as many cheers as Tom's gotten since Genesis. Yeah, so he's been a dick lately, but he's oozing self-confidence. He always has. What the hell is there to suggest he's going back to the guy who headed up the M7?" "Oh, I dunno," Ann begins, acidic sarcasm dripping off her words, "Maybe the fact he WALKED OUT ON HIS PARTNER LAST SHOW DURING A TAG TITLE MATCH? Maybe the fact he left me in to get kicked around for the WHOLE thing? The fact he wouldn't so much as try to let me tag out!?" Ann screams, holding up her hands. She breathes heavily for a few moments, before something dawns on her. "Alex, you... you booked that goddamn match, didn't you?" "Yeah, I did," Alex starts, leaning back and folding his arms. "On the advice of your sister, no less." "WHAT!?" "She came in to talk to me after Storm, and she told me that she had already talked to Tom, and he was perfectly willing to let that one loss slide and try another tag match, preferably for higher stakes. She said that you were harbouring some petty resentment to Tom from the past. She didn't know why, but she knew that was sometimes your nature, and you'd probably get hot about it and make sure she wouldn't be able to ask me for this. She said that Tom was 'very cordial' and willing to work through the fact you let him get pinned in the last match. She said that eventually you'd come around, and work together to make big waves." Gripping the ends of her armrests, Ann seethes with anger. The fact that her sister had... and that Tom could... taking a deep breath, Annie opens her mouth to speak. Very carefully. "And. Alex. You took her word... and didn't tell me anything... knowing FULL WELL that Tom and I were vicious enemies in the past?" "I've seen nothing to suggest that Tom is reverting." Annie twitches. "That... is... such bullshit! Goddamn it, Alex! I... I don't BELIEVE THIS! I can't believe you let... that Tom's let... ARGH!" Ann slams her hands into the chair, and faces Alex with a desperate expression. "You know Tom, Alex. You know what he does... how can you be so blind? Have you let Kibagami completely consume you?"Alex's eyes narrow as Onita continues. "Fuck, Alex, I'd even trust Kibagami with Ali before I'd let Tom get to her!" "Now THAT is bullshit!" Alex snaps. "Kibagami would've run through your sister the first chance he got, if he could've been fucking bothered. I know Kibagami, and I know Tom, and I know you, Annie. You want Tom neutralized, and there's no two ways about that! You hate Tom, and Tom is getting in the way of what you're owed..." Ann opens her mouth to protest, but Alex cuts her short. "I have the fucking papers right here from Stevens, so don't bother trying to argue. If you can get by Tom, you've got clear sailing into that main event slot you could never get to, and the world title that's been LIGHTYEARS away from your grasp!" "But Alex--" "NO!" booms Zenon, jumping out of his chair. "None of this 'but Alex' shit! You think that I'm going to swat down the winningest man in SWF history for you? You think I'm going to push aside the biggest star we may have EVER had just because we were in some shitty, two-bit, 'couldn't get fuckall accomplished' mockery of the Midnight Carnival together? Or because you scored some cheapass victory over that Maori dickhead and think that's worth it!?" "Alex, I--" "I have a set of verbally sickening, pysically fellating prima-donnas telling me they're the best group in this fed and deserve all the accolades I can give them, and some shallow, pretentious straight-edge cocksucker saying I'm getting in his way because his ass got jobbed to the same seven foot schitzophrenic FREAK who's telling me to watch where I step or loose my whole fucking foot and a drugged up, strung out, fucking psychotic lunatic ALL breathing down my neck and telling me how to run this fucking railroad!! I have given them NO FUCKING QUARTER and you expect me to give you some kind of assinine special treatment on grounds you can't even BEGIN to motherfucking justify because... we're friends?" "..." "NEWSFLASH!!" Alex screams. "EDWIN MAC-FUCKING-PHISTO COULD WALK THROUGH MY DOOR, DEMAND A TITLE SHOT... and you know what? I think I'd tell him to fuck off!!" Alex pauses, breathing raggedly, and then gives Annie a scornful expression. "And... and what do you figure I'm going to say to you, huh?" Ann remains deathly quiet, rather shocked by Zenon's outburst. Running a hand through his hair, he drops back into his seat, trembling with anger. Onita shakes her head, and spits out, "So that's how it is, eh, Alex?" Obviously frustrated and angry at Alex, she sighs and asks, "Just tell me one thing, then. Why in the gods name are you taking my sister's words over mine, Zenon?" Alex raises up his head, strands of hair draped over his eyes. "Because... Allison has nothing to gain." "I see," Ann says, quietly. With a sad, angry look, she stands up and stares at Alex. "I still don't think Tom's changed... but you have, Alex." "Yeah," murmus Alex, nodding slighty. "Yeah... leave, Annie. Just get out." And without one more word, Ann Onita turns and walks out of the office of the interim commissioner. Unremorseful, unapologetic, and unbashedly, his eyes follow Annie out of the room... and then settle back down onto the contract that he'd been so fixated with before she came. Back down to those two names. ~FIN

Blah blah good promo blah blah thoughtful analysis blah blah interesting notation blah blah Z's commented, now go get your 130 hits. I couldn't think up much more to say. Sorry. It IS a good promo, the premise being done I don't know how many times before hand aside. A much needed interior look at Kibagami's current mindset. Hooray for most things. -Z

No, actually. The arena name really is The Arena in Oakland. It's where the Golden State Warriors play. -Z

And Knowing Is Half the Battle? G... I... JOE~! I admit, that's all I really wanted to comment for. That said, good promo--Cortez has CHARACTER! HUZZAH! The honourable warrior thing is nothing new, but it does have an interesting dynamic paired up with the superficial and egotistical Van Siclen. It's doubly interesting 'cause, y'know, they kinda' went out and won the tag titles in their first match. It's thricly interesting because there's a reasonably lively tag division for this kind of storyline to flourish in. You remember that thing we had about a year ago? Where OAOASTers would come in and have ridiculous success in the SWF? Yeah. Don't expect that to stop here. -Z

That notation on Aecas isn't wrong. Aecas has been owed a rematch since the last PPV, but on the advice of Toxxic, I was to save a rematch until Battleground. The thing is, both of them forgot about that. EDIT: Also, just because I'm head honcho doesn't mean I need to mark every main event... -Z

^^Trust that man. He taught me everything I know about editing. Strangely, it was a class about teaching people everything he knew period, and that took up most of the 47 minutes. Line editing has the power of the gods embueled within it. Never forget that. I hacked 900 words off a match once. -Z

Well, why not have the announcer's talk about it? Personally, there's logical grounds for a thrown-together team to tag and have it just 'click,' but it wasn't played up well enough in this match, I don't think. If you had layed on Clark's tagging history a little thick, and if the match had a stronger tag aspect overall, I think it would've worked. You could've even included the two of them botching something because of their inexperience together and using it as a point for building drama. That would've been kinda' cool, actually. I think it was having Coy and Clark come out to the same music that threw me off a bit, though. That's pretty misleading as to how 'new' Clark and Coy are to tagging together, imo. EDIT: So, this thread now has 19 replies. I think when the losing match thread has more than double the comments the show has, it's time for us to switch prioritieeeeeeesss... -Z

Right, I didn't word that correctly. What I'm really trying to say there is that the tag aspect wasn't focused on enough for those four guys. This is where the build up, pay off thing in tag matches that are based on singles feuds really should've been implimented, because there was just too much Duran vs Grap and Landon vs Clark (the latter more specifically) for a match where they weren't facing directly. The other guys in the match weren't mixed in well enough, so to speak. -Z

Alright, comments for Rando/Grap/Coy, which Rando has been asking for over the last little while. I'm gonna' come out and say that this was another one of those cases where one team was pretty clearly the best of the two, and no-one really 'lost' the match for themselves. I always feel the need to point out whether or not this is what happened, because it lets everyone understand what parts of their writing needs improvement. When you write something that ends up costing the match for you more than your opponent beats you, there are ISSUES that need to be addressed. If you're simply outwritten, it's a jagged little pill, but it's mostly a case of minor tweaks that need to be done. I think the cheif thing that bothered me about the Unnamed match was... well... it didn't gel that well. I think it could've used a good once-over edit at the end, just to cover up the discrepancies between Coy, Clark and Grappler. This is always a big problem with tag matches, because if they aren't seamless, they don't read well, and if they don't read well, it's a huge blow to winnability. Outside of noticeable prose and commentary differences, the wrestling was pretty OK, but nothing really spectacular. It did have a problem where, at times, it just didn't flow like a proper tag match should, though. There was too much focus on the individual matchups (Landon/Clark, Grap/Duran), and there just wasn't enough tagging. That extremely long stretch of Clark vs Landon was just... bad. Overlong, and it definitely took away from the match more than it added to it. This is a personal opinion, but I believe when you're writing tag matches that feature singles feuds like this, you should work build-up and pay-off type internal storylines, which add a nice dimension to the match, instead of tossing Landon and Clark against each other at the first oppertunity and letting it ride for 2000 words. This definitely all echoes the sentiments that the match had a New Coke effect. You tampered with the formula for the worse, even if people thought it tasted good at the time. Something else worth noting is that I didn't like the finish very much. Seemed generic and a little anti-climatic, all things considered, even if I felt that Grappler's was the best written third of the match. To me, the finish is the most important part of a match, and it can really win or lose something. A fantastic finish makes an average match into a good one, a good one into a great one, and a bad finish turns chicken soup into chicken shit, to quote Va'aiga. I also didn't understand why Coy and Clark were so comfortable teaming together--I know I've heard Rando talk about teaming up with Ejiro at some point down the line, but I had no idea anything had ever taken place in storyline. Seeing them come out together seemed a little out of place, unless I've missed something. Anyway, there you go. My take, my reasons, and some notes for future stuff if I'm marking. Bon appatite. -Z

About the only time I'm ever gonna' get on the heat list, and I'm in Mark's shadow. Mumble, grumble... -Z

SWF Frequently Asked Questions (Revised and updated, Wednesday, 27th of December, 2006; ver 3.6) IDIOT'S GUIDE TO JOINING THE SWF! EXECUTIVE SUMMARY 1. Read this page, top to bottom... without fail! 2. Using correct grammar and a neat style, fill out the SWF Stats Template on this page. Be original. Send them to Toxxic (Toxxic) or Landon (King Cucaracha) and wait patiently for a reply. You may be required to alter your stats. If not, proceed to step 3. 3. Post your stats in the stats thread. Do not do this before you’ve been approved! 4. Watch the cards. If you're booked in a match, write for it or we'll be asking why you joined. --- Welcome to the Smartmarks Wrestling Federation! If you are new to e-wrestling, reading this section is imperative. Even if you are familiar or even experienced with e-wrestling, you should still read this as it contains the valuable information you need to be successful in this federation, which is a bit different from any other fed we're familiar with. So yes, read it. Yes, read it. You heard me. This is the Smartmarks Wrestling Federation Frequently Asked Questions document. It’s an idiot's guide to who we are and what you have to do to join. If you don’t read this before joining... you’re either a retiree returning or just plain silly. Read on. Okay... so who are you guys, anyway? The SWF is one of the more popular e-wrestling federations on the internet. It is a match-writing/angle-driven federation, where writers create their own storylines and write competitive matches to further their place on the card and to further their angles. Well over 200 people have joined since its creation in October 2000. In fact, I couldn't give you an accurate number, there’s been that many people. The roster got so big that we were forced to create subdivisions and lesser leagues for the people who wished to be involved with the SWF. This resulted in two leagues; the JL (Junior League) and the ML (Minor Leagues). Neither league exists anymore as they are no longer needed. October 2000, eh? Not bad. Where does this fed trace its roots to? Back in the day, there was the IGNWF message board. You see, we were a part of IGN.com, basing ourselves on their board system. Unfortunately, the boards went completely subscription-only. With over half the roster without Insider, the fed was thought to be dead. However, thanks to a contact with Jeremy Botter, TheSmartmarks was nice enough to take us in. Regardless, this was where everything took place. At first there was no board. The IGNWF was a small federation based on IGN’s WWF board. It got started by Jayson G - the author of the legendary Scoop Slam Post. The subject line said "I haven't done this here yet so I'll start..." and in the post he said "*Scoop Slam*" It started a mass brawl among the posters, spawning a huge thread that somehow managed organize itself into staged matches. Eventually, the newly-dubbed IGNWF got their own board and things skyrocketed from there. In the first few days of the board's existence, the stats post (people who wanted to join put their stats there) went up to 30, then 50, and now it's lost in the annals of history. However, Jayson had a brilliant idea - split the fed into two. Have one main fed (IGNWF) and a minor fed (IGNJL). The idea was accepted and the IGNJL was made. Soon after, the IGNJL got too big as well. Therefore, we had to split it into two halves, the IGNML and the IGNJL. After rash of retirements by WFers and JLers, the ML was removed, because it was no longer needed. The rosters were merged back into the IGNJL. The SWF and SJL federations went strong for a long time, producing some excellent classes of match-writing students, but then tragedy struck. The influx of new wrestlers dwindled and basically stopped, and this coupled with the numerous retirements that occurred during this period turned the federation upside down. Unfortunately, it was decided that the SJL was no longer needed. The remains are still available to view, with title histories and big events pinned in the forum, so have a gander. Moving on, we are now the single federation, the SWF. We are still the same match-writing/angle driven federation with numerous highly talented people... and we want you. Join us. You know you want to. OK, I understand now. So, how do I go about joining up? If you are new, visit the profile of Toxxic, who can be found in the 'Forum Led By' section when you enter these boards. He is a long-serving member of the fed, currently juggling the roles of writing and co-booking the fed with Landon (King Cucaracha), an even longer-serving member. Once you are viewing his profile, send him a private message. In the message send him a completed stats form, filled out vertically. That is, your character’s moves are not in one long line, rather they are listed one under the other. Example: That’s how you want to do it. It should go without saying, but use proper grammar as well. It makes an impression, so don't bother applying if you're not going to make an effort. If you have any questions, feel free to PM Toxxic - he'll be happy to answer them for you, give your stuff a read-through and provide suggestions. The stats template is listed at the bottom of this document. Do not fret! Toxx will soon get back to you and tell you if you're in or not. Once he does, and only once he does, post your stats in the stats thread on the Smartmarks Wrestling Federation board. From there, wait patiently until the card for the next show is posted. During your wait, it is highly encouraged that you make yourself known to the SWF community and become a part of the clique. You can do this by going to this thread and downloading the chat script and then joining chat! Post a thread in the community board, as well. Help us know you! Alright, I've sent my stats in, I've been approved, and the next card is up. What now? Naturally, note your opponent and refer to the stats thread to find their specifics. Adhere to the stipulations, if there are any, detailed for your match in the card. There should also be a "word limit" and a "marker" attached to every match. The word limit is the MAXIMUM amount of words that a specific match can contain. ‘Newbie’ matches are usually around 3000 words. This may sound like a bit, but once you get the hang of match-writing, you'll realize this is hardly enough to construct a simple match. Feel free to turn in something below this, but understand it will affect the quality of your match - we're used to longer, more involved matches and descriptions. When you finish writing, send a private message containing your match to the listed "marker." Markers are the people who read through the competing matches to choose a winner. They are always experienced federation veterans and have a good sense of the various things that make a good written match. I see... I'm kind of confused. I've never been in a e-fed like this before; could you explain match-writing in more detail? It's actually a very simple premise. The federation is, basically, a creative writing contest. Using the character you've created and using the stats from your opponent's character, you write your own wrestling match. Essentially, you write out longer and more detailed action scenes from literature, using the stats you've created for your character and the stats that your opponent has made up. The spots, the finish, the story you tell... granted, this is limited by the characters and the match stipulation, but how you go about plotting your own matches is up to you. The match-writing competition is the heart of the fed and thusly important to constantly improve on. I shouldn't have to explain the actual details of writing a match, but if you're still a bit lost, refer to any of the recent SWF shows. You should understand what the match-writing aspect is after you have read a show through. Of course, a lot of the matches would be written by experienced veterans but don’t worry, you’re not expected to be that good at the beginning! (If you are, congratulations.) Often, new writers are the subject of constructive criticism in comments or losing-match threads. Try not to take this too personally - the vets are just trying to help you improve. Often, people object to the match-writing system on the premise that a writer can treat his opponent like a jobber. Understand that one-sided matches tend to be boring - if you write a match like that, it doesn't stand a very good chance of winning. Interesting. Does this fed include any additional RP (role-playing) aspects, like most e-feds? Yes. Although matches are the main competitive part of the SWF, the fed is driven by angles. We refer to RP's as ‘Promos’ around here and unlike writing matches, they aren't necessary to do to stay part of the fed. However, promoing is recommended, as it’s how angles/storylines/character progression/et cetera is done. Anything from interviews, locker room conversations, backstage confrontations, attacks on other wrestlers (provided you have their permission), a speech, vignettes, a challenge... whatever style comes to mind. And, of course, the locales of your promos are completely up to you. Lord knows bar/pub/tavern promos are a staple of this fed. Anyway, there are two ways to have a promo seen - post it on the SWF board or have it included in the next show. If a board promo, make sure to entitle the post "PROMO: <title>", so that everyone knows it's a promo. There is no word limit on promos, but it’s recommended that they at least be 400 words. If they're shorter, you should generally go with the second option and send the promo to whoever is posting the next SWF show, making sure to specify where in the show you'd like it placed if you have a preference. Much like writing matches, if you're having trouble with promos, just read some of the other ones that have been posted. I'd like to run an angle with someone in the SWF. How do I go about doing this? Simply get in contact with them, via private message, chat or AIM, and explain what you'd like to do. I would classify anything as big as a feud or as small as an appearance in a promo/match run-in an "angle" that requires permission from a person to use their character. They should get back to you with a yes or a no and you can work out further details from there. Simple angles and feuds don't require clearance from the WF bookers, although we would prefer if you keep us informed of anything you plan to do, so we can book the shows more efficiently and effectively for everyone. How are tag matches written? Unless specified somewhere on the card, tag matches are to be written together with your partner. As in, they should write about one half of the match, and you should write the other half. If you’d prefer a more interactive style, organise a time for you both to be online at the same time and write it together. Contact them right after you see the card so you can work out the details. I'd like a specific kind of match against a specific person on the next show. How do I get it? Send a private message to either Landon or Toxxic and explain to them what match stipulation you'd like and against who. They should be able to fulfil your request for the next card. If not, I’m sure they have a reason and they should get back to you on that. What is the show schedule, anyway? We now have a new schedule, the necessity of which was dictated by, among other things, the members of the fed growing older and having less spare time... we are aiming to run two shows a month, and we intend to try and find out if people will be available for the shows before we book them to ensure we get a maximum return. If no-one can manage a certain time period, we don't have a show then. Simple as. Consider it a Ring Of Honor-like schedule, if you will. Who books what? It's the British Invasion... after a long and proud tradition of Americans, Canadians and the odd Australian being in charge of the place and contributing to the running, Toxx and Landon are now joint head bookers. They come up with the card between them, so either one can be approached for any booking purpose. I can't write for the next show/I need to take an extended break. Who do I tell? If you can't write a match for whatever reason, private message your match marker and let them know ahead of time. (Please turn in something if you can - even if it's a half-written match, tack on entrances and a rollup finish. A bad match still beats a double no-show.) If you need to take an extended break from the fed, private message Toxx or Landon. As stated above, we're trying to ensure everyone who gets booked is available, but a "don't book me until further notice" will save time instead of "can you be booked?" "No" exchanges taking place every two weeks. Help! I keep losing my matches! What can I do to try and start winning? Everyone goes through spells where they can't seem to buy a win, don't worry. Firstly, politely private message your match marker and ask them how they came to their decision on your loss, making sure to ask them for feedback on how you could improve. They should get back to you soon with suggestions. You can also post in the losing match thread, which is sometimes started after every show (you can start it yourself!), and ask for feedback from people there. SWFers shouldn't have a problem giving you a few pointers. Lastly, read other SWF matches. Learning from what others do is, without question, the easiest way to improve. Keep in mind when asking for feedback that the markers are doing this with their free time, just as you're writing with yours, and that they've been through the same things. A little tact goes a long way, whether you're the writer or the marker. So, is there anything else to do in this fed besides writing matches? Naturally. There is a Community/General board at the top of the SWF forum index. This is where all of the conversational topics (amongst other things) are posted to keep SWF forum clean of off-topic threads and focused mainly on federation-related things. Don't be shy about joining in on the conversation or introducing yourself, even if you’re brand new to all of this. As I mentioned earlier in this FAQ, we also have a chatroom! Click here to access the thread that has the link you’ll need to download the official SWF MiRC script. There's almost always someone in chat, regardless of the time of day. If not, there are instructions in the thread to attract people to chat. Alright, I think I've got everything, now. Anything else I should be aware of? Here are some basic rules... 1. Only write matches you’re assigned to. This goes without saying, but sometimes, just sometimes, stupidity gets the better of us. (This doesn't just mean 'Don't write matches for someone else.' Only write the match you're assigned to write, even if it's a straight singles match and you'd prefer it to be hardcore. If you and your opponent both want a change in the stipulation, agree on it and tell your marker. We'll be happy to change it for you.) 2. If you do not want to be part of the SWF, don't post messages about how much you think it sucks. Keep your opinion of it to yourself. 3. Don't get too crazy. The old IGNWF used to have midgets fighting at McDonald's... so try to stay away from that and keep it in the ring. 4. Have fun, but make sure you don't stop anyone else's fun. We don't want anyone leaving the SWF due to badgering, so try to keep personal comments to yourself. 5. Be Original. Don't use "If you smell..." as your catchphrase. Try to come up with your own material. Also be realistic. Don't be "Hardcore Extreme Guy" or something like that. Try to portray your character in a real way. If you use a hackneyed gimmick, be ready for criticism and high standards - it's nearly impossible for someone without experience to write the Rock's gimmick and make it enjoyable. 6. When sending matches to your marker, carefully title it "Axis vs. Charismatic Kev - Kev's Match" or something legible and obvious. Stuff like "my match" just doesn’t cut it unless you're especially charming and witty, or have been around long enough to strut around like you own the place. 7. Don't send the bookers a private message with "hey” in the title. When sending them a private message, make sure what you want is carefully put into the title. For example, if you want leave, put "Leave of absence" in the title, not "Hey Landon". This is not because Toxx and Landon are cranky, it's just easier to go back and find the details of your leave of absence notice (or whatever) if it's marked as such in the PM box. 8. Show up for your matches! If you can’t for whatever reason, let your marker and your opponent know about it! No showing and not providing reason does not put you in favour with the markers and the bookers, mainly because your marker will be waiting for your match instead of out drinking beer, in getting laid, or in his basement playing video games. 9. The federation is not a slave-driving place. We tried that, it stopped working after a while. We all have time constraints, be it work or college or school or being a drug-addled rockstar. The point of the fed now is that you write WHEN YOU WANT TO WRITE, but that you let us know when you want to write beforehand so we don't book you and then get nothing! So if you want to come in and write a match but can't make the next show, that's fine. If you're a veteran who wants to return for a one-shot every couple of months, that's fine too. Just let us know so we don't end up with a show full of holes. 10. This is the most important rule... ...enjoy yourself! This is meant to be fun. Have a blast, people! Stats Template Ok, now that you've read the FAQ, you are allowed to see this beautiful piece of a template! Below is the SWF Stats Template you should submit if you'd like to join. FILL THIS OUT WITH CARE! If your grammar is very bad or the template looks untidy, you will not be accepted. (We're a writing fed. Make a good first impression.) Obviously, delete the huge descriptions seen here. Stat's Points Guide A bit confused about what the stats mean? Here is a rough outline, using the numbers so that you can more easily imagine exactly what those stats mean... if you're anything like me, you might be sick of being suplexed by guys with a ‘1’ strength. Keep in mind this is a very rough outline and there is room for interpretation. This is not canon, nor is it official rules; the stats are more of a guide. Strength: 1 - Here we're talking the level of an untrained manager, ref, or valet. Someone like... Kelly Kelly. 2 - Here are the majority of women wrestlers, as well as many male wrestlers. Examples would be Candice Michelle, or some of the smaller cruiserweights like Paul London - minimum strength to do a suplex well. 3 - Here is the low end of average strength for wrestlers. CM Punk. Maybe an imposing woman like Beth Phoenix. 4 - Here we get into a really strong female, like Chyna, or an average strength male wrestler, like the Miz. 5 - Here we have the guys who can do the occasional big power move and look sort of scary. Say, HHH, John Cena, etc. 6 - We begin to get into the realm of the big men now. Many BIG moves. People like Tomko. Or true female freaks like Amazing Kong. 7 - Sickeningly strong small guy, or average big guy... Snitsky, Abyss. 8 - Strong big guy... Undertaker. 9 - Sickeningly strong big guy... Brock Lesnar. 10 - The biggest, baddest and strongest... combines leverage with being freaking huge... Big Show. Speed: 1 – Slug... is painful to watch. The Great Khali. 2 - Still in the realm of the large men, but able to move, maybe even climbing to the top rope. Big Show. 3 - Low end of average speed... somebody who can move, but doesn't often. Say, HHH. 4 - Average, but capable of some acrobatics, might go over/through the ropes occasionally... . A lot of female wrestlers. Taker. Samoa Joe. 5 - Acrobatics begin to show and can do some high risk moves well. End of trail for agile big men... Sean O'Haire, or Lesnar when he could actually hit the SSP. 6 - Fast! Better be a cruiserweight... some springboard stuff... Shane Helms, Lita in her younger days. 7 - Faster! Springboard moves are no problem! Jericho, Jeff Hardy. 8 - Yowza!!! Suicide springboard here we come!! Rob Van Dam, Sabu. 9 - Which way did he go? Super Crazy, Sonjay Dutt 10 - What can't you do? Rey Mysterio Jr... before his injuries. Jack Evans. Dragon Kid. Vitality: 1 - Can't even work a whole match... Mae Young. Remember her? 2 - Weak. Average valet level... Torrie Wilson, Stephanie McMahon. 3 - Low average level and can work a whole stipulation match... Trish Stratus. 4 - Average stuff... can do a Last Man Standing Match. Chris Jericho. 5 - If you want an Ironman match, you'd better be at least this good. Bret Hart, Shawn Michaels, the Rock, HHH. Or, can chain wrestle obscenely well. Kurt Angle pre-injury. 6 - Presented as tougher than dirt, but will still go down to a finisher... Finlay. 7 - Wrestles hardcore all the time and doesn't mind it at all! Say, Undertaker... capable of brief bouts of no-selling. The ring bell doesn't hurt. Brock Lesnar. Goldberg. 8 - Can you say Mick Foley? Sure you can. Masochist... can take a hellacious beating. These days, Superman Cena. 9 - Seemingly impervious to pain, can continue without higher brain function. Terry Funk. Hulk Hogan during a Hulk-Up. 10 – A no-selling bastard... Kane, back when he debuted. The bastard took three tombstone piledrivers! Now, we'll have to go with the SWF's Nathaniel Kibagami. Charisma: 1 - Ew. What's that on your face? Acid burns? Do you know English? Steve Blackman. Abyss, when he speaks. 2 - Farthest you can get without talking. Old Kane. Umaga. 3 - Minimum babe charisma. Beth Phoenix (who can't talk for shit, but might get a slight diva pop). Low average wrestler charisma. Snitsky. 4 - You have some merchandise and can talk when you get the mike. Gregory Helms. John Morrison. 5 - You have a cult following, even if it's just for your ring presence and ethics. LAX, Santino Marella 6 - People love you and they don't know why, or you're instantly hateable. Carlito, Brother/Bubba Ray. 7 - You have thousands of Jerichoholics. Jericho. So over, it's scary... Angle. 8 - You are the Game!!! HHH. Fantastic acting ability. William Regal 9 - People love you, or hate you with a passion normally reserved for Hitler. Stone Cold. Yes, still. Vince McMahon. 10 - You own the fed. The Rock during a comeback. -- If you have any more comments, questions or inquiries not presented in this FAQ, private message Toxx or Landon. This guide was originally written by DT_Spike of the IGN boards. It was revised by crusen86, and had parts contributed by emilvandro. It was revised yet again by realitycheck. It was then revised by Crowe (07/04/2004) due to outdated information and the removal of the SJL, edited repeatedly by Tom, and updated October 2007 by Toxxic.

Hmm, interesting. I would like to note that yes, indeed, Tryst is back with us for however long he stays again this time, but I believe Merc wanted it as an every-other show deal for a little while. Tryst is such an odd character, and yet, whatever little background was ever written for him seemed... depressing. Maybe he's truly mad, but maybe he's just loney, or lost out in the middle of no-where for reasons he doesn't want to explain. And Stillwell is fascinating too, because much like Tryst, there isn't a whole lot known about him. There's so many possibilities here... I really hope that with this return, you take the oppertunity to explore as many as you can. I love your prose, btw. It's subtly different from just about anyone else's I've ever read in the SWF. -Z

The Smartmark's Wrestling Federation presents... SWF STORM FOR APRIL 9TH, 2004! *LIVE* FROM THE *SOLD OUT* JOE LOUIS ARENA IN DETROIT, MICHIGAN! (5:00pm PCT, 8:00pm EST; check local listings) MAIN EVENT SINGLES MATCH, NON-TITLE Charlie "Grappler" Matthews© vs "Deathwish" Danny Williams SPECIAL GUEST COMMENTATOR: "The Notorious" John Duran And now, if you will, a dream match. Although it is non title, the most impressive and winning champion since Tom Flesher faces off against one of the most accomplished technical wrestlers in SWF history, and a former champion at that. What more needs to be said, other than the man Grappler is on a collision course with shall provide his esteemed insight on the contest? Danny Williams vs Charlie Matthews. Let's git it on. Rules: Standard singles match. Duran may write if he so desires. Word Limit: 6000 Send To: realitycheck ICTV TITLE BOUT STRAP MATCH Toxxic© vs Janus Ah, the pains of being a double champion. Toxxic has steamrolled all competition for the last two months, and that ain't gonna' change anytime soon. On Storm he faces the on remaining member of the Trinity that he hasn't defeated--the hulking behemoth Janus. Not that any match against a man over a full foot taller than you would be easy, but with the re-emergence of Janus' unstable alternate personality, Toxxic's got a lot to watch out for... also, who IS this deadlocked beauty that continues to assist Toxxic in matches? What is her connection to Mr. sXe? And what about scarecrow's brain!? Rules: Both men are connected at the wrists by a single leather strap about 12 feet long, and the winner is whoever touches all four of the turnbuckles despite having to drag their opponent. No-DQ, no countout, obviously, but that is by no means an invitation to go hardcore. Word Limit: 5500 Send To: realitycheck TAG TEAM MATCH Ann "Ichiban" Onita/"The Superior One" Tom Flesher vs The House of Todd There are ood things going on with the Superior One lately. If disrespecting your opponent's and being acting like a general prick is odd, anyway. Never the less, he faces off against the same woman he abused two shows ago for a tag match against the House of Todd, whom actually picked up a "W" last show! With Duran's help, but hey, progress. Rules: Standard tag match. Remember the tag ropes! Word Limit: 5000 Send To: Grand Slam MYSTICAL MYSTERY MAN MATCH SINGLES MATCH, NON-TITLE Alan Clark© vs ??? The mystery man returns, and this time he turns up on Alan Clark's doorstep. Just what we need with Alan: More anomalies and strange happenings. There isn't much to be told about this match, naturally, although I will say this: Alan ain't gonna' like this opponent ONE BIT. Rules: Standard singles match. ???-guy, send your statsizzle to Clarkdizzle. Word Limit: 5000 Send To: Suicide King HARDCORE MATCH Dace Night vs Insane Luchadore The hardcore Tour de Force for these two guys continues, as both of them have been in extremely vicious matches lately. Of course you know, this means they had to lock horns eventually, and in the enviroment they know best. It ain't DIaB, but by gum, it's still going to be a knock-down-drag-out-no-holds-barred-pull-no-punches-so-put-yer-nose-to-the-grind-and-Katie-bar-the-door-gangland-massacre! Daaaas right. Rules: What? Word Limit: 4750 Send To: 5_moves_of_doom USJL TITLE BOUT TRIPLE IMPACT MATCH Stryke© vs Edward James Yeah, I know, they faced once before a few shows ago, but hell. No-one wrote, but this time Eddy J is coming off a win and Stryke has a title! IT WILL BE DIFFERENT, OH YES! Plus there's a fun stip, just for the fuck of it. Rules: Funyon has a card on his person which he will read off of before the match starts. On it is a move, sans something generic such as a whip, punch, kick or clothesline, which must be preformed three times to be declard victorious. Word Limit: 4000 Send To: Grand Slam SINGLES MATCH Johnny Dangerous vs Aecas Johnny Dangerous faces off against Aecas, one half of the team that robbed Wild & Dangerous of the SWF tag titles! Johnny's no stranger to big, tough bastards, and Aecas is no stranger to squashing little guys such as Johnny like flies, so this should be a pretty good one. Rules: Standard singles match. Word Limit: 4000 Send To: chirs3 SINGLES MATCH Jacob Helmsely vs Austin Sly Somtimes, they don't need much explanation. Mainly because there's not much to be said. Jacob Helmesely returns after a brief haitus, and has his eyes trained on bigger and better things--better than he's ever achieved in his long career. Time to get crackin', then, and what better way to start then against rookie newcomer Austin Sly? Rules: Stanard singles match. Word Limit: 3500 Send To: Thoth (Send shit to Thoth)

Okay... there we go. Show has been edited because like a moron, I missed two promos and had to sort it all out. Blah. Anyway. As they say in show-biz, that's a wrap. Again. Card will be up eventually. Again. Give me some time. Good show, blah blah, lots happened, blah blah, READ AND COMMENT. I mean, if I did, you should. -Z

(As seen on the SWF internet radio show SWF LIVE immediately following the show) After the show has ended and the fans have left for home, an unseen SWF cameraman is walking through the halls backstage. John Duran comes around the corner, and his eyes light up at the sight of the cameraman. “Boz, over here.” Duran motions to the man behind the camera, and begins to walk away as the camera follows him. Duran stands at the corner, watching carefully as the camera moves closer to the Notorious One. John finally moves away from the corner after a moment, and the cameraman whips around the corner himself, getting a shot of none other than Charlie Matthews! The Grappler seems packed and ready to head out of the arena, but Duran comes up from behind and clubs him in the back with his forearm! The grunt from Grappler echoes in the small corridor as Duran grabs Matthews by his jacket and rams the Grappler headfirst into the wall! Charlie ricochets off the wall with a sickening thud, and then falls on his face! The Notorious One stomps away at the fallen body of the SWF Champion. “You mother*BEEP*er,” Duran mutters under his breath as he turns Grappler over and pounds on him--the camera moves around and reveals that Grappler is bleeding from the forehead, more than likely after getting slammed into the wall. The pounding of Charlie finally comes to a finish, and Duran is breathing hard as well as Matthews as Duran leans down to get in Charlie’s face. “When you crossed my path in the SJL, Charlie, your clock started ticking. You never knew it, but for every one of your wrongs, the seconds disappeared.” Duran pauses, sneering in the face of the Grappler, who is helplessly bleeding on the concrete floor. “Time’s up, Charlie. You’ve gotten this far, but it’s all over.” “You see, Charlie, it’s all about time. When the time is right, I will take you out. And it won’t just be for the first time. I’ll make sure it’s the last time.” To add insult to injury, Duran growls his last words and then spits in the face of the Grappler! Duran gets up on his feet and walks away, as the camera remains focused between Grappler’s bloody face and Duran walking off into the distance, the camera fading to black.

"Knock, knock," Mark Stevens calls out, opening the door to Alex Zenon's office. Automatically, Zenon adopts a defensive position, and then slides into his chair. "Oh, thank god, it's only you this time." "Heh... guess I was wrong about no-one bothering you today. Sorry, Alex," Mark apologizes, that lopsided grin returning to his face. "It's alright, I guess, Mark. You don't get to be pulled in both directions by the two major factions of the federation, and then have the world champion and his biggest rival come storming through your office every day," says Alex with a grin. "Welcome to the job, son!" Mark laughs. "Anyway... I finished up the stuff I couldn't get onto CD in time for you taking the job, so here," Mark sets another stack of folders onto Alex's desk, on top of the very few that remained for him to look over. "Great, and I was nearly finished, too..." "Well, don't worry," chimes Mark, dismissively. "This was all stuff that I had to do myself anyway. Just go over it so you're familiar; it's all set in stone. And actually, I would like to point out that the next show was already preliminarily booked before this, so I'm afraid you don't get to put anything together yourself until Lockdown." Alex shrugs, "I guess that's no big deal." Mark looks around for a minute, thinking, and then looks back at Alex. "Well!" he exclaims, slapping the palms of his hands against his side. "I think that just about covers it. Now, I have to run, since my flight is..." Mark pauses, checking his watch. "DAMN, in twenty-six minutes! I'll out of here, Alex! You know where I am if you need me for anything!" With that, Mark grabs a briefcase and waves Alex off, then burst out of the office and starts jogging down the hallway. Alex shakes his head, and then grabs the folder on top of the short stack. The camera gets a close-up on the label, which reads "NEW CONTRACTS." Zenon reads over the paper on the top, flips the page... and then does a double take. He flips back and stares intently at the page, a shocked, angry look coming over his face. "No. This... this can't be right," he mutters, in some kind of disbelief. He continues reading, the expression on his face continues to darken. "No..." "Goddamn it, NO!" Alex screams in frustration, slamming the the folder close and pounding his fist on the desk. Leans over, bracing his head with his hand, still in total shock, anger, and disbelief... ...as we fade to black.

The Continental Airlines Arena is the sight of tonight’s episode of SWF Smarkdown, and after a full night of action-packed matches including an appearance from Street Fighter Blanka, the crowd is getting worked up again for the big six-man tag that is the main event tonight! And if the crowd is ready, then of course Funyon is ready, as he is poised in the center of the ring to announce the six participants who will be stepping into the ring! “Ladies and gentlemen,” announces Funyon, “this next match is tonight’s MAIN EVENT!” The cheers from the fans interrupt Funyon for a moment, and then continues. “And it is a six-man tag team match scheduled for one fall!” The view of the New Jersey arena turns to black and white, and a storm is brewing on the SmarkTron as the first few notes of Bon Jovi’s “Wanted Dead Or Alive” crawl out from the speakers and float over the crowd. “We’re back on SWF Smarkdown and we’re diving right into the main event, citizens,” Cyclone Comet points out as Alan Clark steps out from behind the curtain, the storm sounds fading. “This is going to be a doozy of a six-man tag match, Robert.” “It looks like the Commissioner Mark Stevens is really digging, Comet,” Bobby Riley speaks of the newly-stepped down Grand Slam--for the moment, at least. “He can’t figure out a way to beat the Unnamed, and now he’s thrown together three people with no experience together at all!” “And three very different wrestlers at that, Robert. It’ll be interesting to see how they work together.” “Introducing first, weighing in at two hundred and twenty-five pounds and hailing from Long Beach, California…ALAN CLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARK!” With his guitar in tow and dressed in all white, Clark continues down the ramp, handing off his guitar to a ringside crew member and then rolling under the bottom rope, raising up on his bare feet and turning to the SmarkTron, waiting for his partners with a calm look on his face. Without any musical warning, Coy West steps back with his black hair slicked back into a ponytail, an intense look on his face as he debuts his new look in the SWF. “His partner, from Atlanta, Georgia and weighing in at two hundred and fifty-three pounds…WILD…COY…WESSSSSSSSSSSSSST!” The fans cheer Coy even with this more intense look, and obvious lack of redneck-ness. “Citizen West is a man on a mission,” Comet recognizes the changes that Coy pointed to in his opening words to start off Smarkdown. “He has shed his old image and is now ready to take a big step forward with a victory over the Unnamed!” “Then he’s in for quite the disappointment, Comet, because the Unnamed is a well-oiled machine under the guidance of John Duran! They’re one man short but just as strong, if not stronger!” Once Coy reaches the bottom of the ramp, he loses the hat, tossing it into the crowd as an unseen fan reaches two hands up to snag the memorabilia. Coy leaves his denim vest on as he enters the ring, immediately turning to test the spring of the ropes as he gives a glance over at Alan Clark, nodding and joining him in the corner. And then the lights go out! “THIS MONSTER LIVES!” “Here we go!” Comet announces excitedly. “Some Kind of Monster” by Metallica thunders from the speakers, and the fans jump to their feet and cheer wildly, as the single spotlight shines on the front of the entranceway…from behind the curtain, one man fills the spotlight…the one and ONLY SWF World Heavyweight Champion! The crowd is ecstatic to see Charlie Matthews, and the Grappler is looking just as intense as ever. “And their partner, weighing in at three hundred and one pounds, from Kansas City, Missouri. He is THE S-W-F HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION OF THE WOOOOOOORLD…CHARLIE…GRAPPLER…MAAAAAAAAAAAAAATHEWS!” The fans’ cheers are never ending for their hero as the lights slowly fade back on in East Rutherford, the spotlight fading from view as various fans reach out to touch Grappler at the base of the ramp, their straining fingertips falling just short. Charlie steps up onto the apron and enters the ring, showing the title to the crowd as they roar with approval. Even Coy and Alan cannot help to look at the gleaming golden belt high in the air, held taut by the Grappler. “That title belongs to the Unnamed, Comet!” Riley declares to no answer. Charlie hands the belt to a ringside crew member, and turns to talk with Coy and Alan about the upcoming match. “Finally, it’s time for us to see the real wrestlers!” With that said… “WHOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!” “WHOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!” The fans match the roaring of Derrick Green with their hateful jeers as Sepultura’s “Bullet The Blue Sky” pounds out over their heads. “BULLET THE BLUE SKY! BULLET THE BLUE SKY!” Landon Maddix and Todd Royal lead the way with Megan Skye, emerging from the curtain first and followed closely by Duran, who looks to be seething, immediately locking his eyes on the champion in the ring. “Look at that, Comet! The three of them are coming out TOGETHER! This is a unit, they are three men combined into one FORCE!” “I get it, Robert, we all get it,” Comet finally speaks to shut up Riley. “And their opponents, weighing in at a combined weight of six hundred and ninety-eight pounds, being accompanied to the ring by Megan Skye…TODD ROYAL…LANDON LA CUCARACHA MADDIX…AND THE NOTORIOUS JOHN DURAN…THEY ARE THE UNNAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMED!” “Robert, I wonder, what is James Matheson doing these days?” “Well, I spoke with John Duran earlier today and he told me that he is keeping Matheson backstage to protect him from any further attacks from our oh-so-honorable champion Charlie Matthews. And I can’t say I blame him! Matheson was attacked not once, but twice by the SWF champion in a matter of weeks!” The crowd, conditioned to Duran’s antics, immediately begins to flash their middle fingers at him from their seats, but the Notorious One is behaving himself tonight, pointing over Landon, Todd, and Megan, right at Matthews and saying some words unheard by the camera and drowned out by the heavy metal behind him. “The tensions are high,” Comet warns, “and I shudder to think what will happen if Duran and Grappler are in the ring at the same time during this match!” “That’s easy,” Riley scoffs, “Duran will simply crush Grappler like he would if the Commissioner would actually grant him a shot at Grappler’s belt!” The three men and Megan stop at the base of the ramp, and Coy yells over, assumedly at Todd, who he’s not too pleased with. There is a pause for a moment, and then the three men move over to the corner diagonal the three good men, all of them stepping onto the ring apron and conferring. “Now we’re finally going to get started,” Riley says. The other corner has already agreed that Alan Clark will be starting the match, and after a moment, Todd moves into the ring after some encouragement from Megan Skye. The referee makes sure that everything is in order and then turns to the timekeeper, calling for the bell. DING DING DING “The Unnamed, facing off against three of our greatest,” Comet recognizes the star power of Matthews, Clark, and West. Todd and Alan stare down each other for a moment and then begin circling the ring, the ref staying on his feet to make sure he doesn’t interfere with the two wrestlers in the ring. Finally, Clark and Royal converge on each other, locking up. Both men look for leverage, and Todd quickly takes the arm of Clark and turns it behind the singer, twisting the wrist of Clark as Alan jumps and attempts to counter to no avail. “Todd Royal with the early advantage,” Riley speaks like it was the obvious thing to happen. Todd turns to the nearest ropes and sends Clark into them, pushing him in the back as Clark hits the ropes. On the rebound, Alan hurdles towards Todd, and Alan doesn’t see the boot fly towards his shin, connecting as Clark is stinted in his run, doubling over and almost falling to one knee, but barely able to keep his balance after the shin strike. Todd moves to the right of Alan, clenching his hands together and raising them in the air before bringing them down across the back of Alan, powerfully driving the guitar strummer down to the canvas with a double axe handle! “This is just beautiful, Comet,” Riley praises the early work from Todd in the match. “Royal is an excellent wrestler, there’s no doubting that, but he doesn’t quite have the conviction that Clark does, nor the sense of justice!” As Alan attempts to get back to his feet, Royal grabs Clark by his left arm, taking him to the Unnamed corner and slapping hands with Landon Maddix. The fellow member of the House of Todd steps through the ropes and the referee tells Royal to go out of the ring, but Todd is slow to answer that demand, as Landon aims carefully and drives a well-placed boot into the arm of Clark, as Todd finally leaves the ring to the boos of the crowd. “Now we get to see the Disciple himself, Landon Maddix!” Riley is very much geeked for the appearance of La Cucaracha. “Interesting strategy from the Unnamed as they appear to be going the quick tag route, and it looks like they’re going to try and isolate one man in the Unnamed corner!” Landon continues to pound away on Clark with right hands, the crowd already sick of seeing the Unnamed in control as Alan staggers back to the center of the ring from the right hands landing from Landon. The LBC rocker can’t reach his feet until Maddix finally puts Alan in a front facelock, smiling to the crowd--who are booing their hearts out at Landon, and Maddix finally swings his body around, moving Alan around with him and slamming down to the mat with a swinging neckbreaker! “Textbook swinging neckbreaker from Citizen Maddix as Clark looks to be in trouble early!” After hitting the neckbreaker, Landon quickly turns over to cover Alan, hooking the leg as the referee falls to the mat for the first pinfall of the match. ONE… TWO-KICKOUT! The fans cheer as Clark shoots a shoulder up just after the count of two, breaking the pinfall. Maddix sits up on his knees and rises to his feet, grabbing Clark by his near-shoulder length hair on his way up, bringing the west coast native up to his feet with him. Landon moves back to the Unnamed corner, reaching out for Duran’s hand and getting it as the jeers from the crowd explode into near deafening levels for the Unnamed leader as the Notorious One steps through the ropes. “Woohoo!” Riley screams, “here comes the man! This will be the man to bring the SWF World Heavyweight Title back to the Unnamed, no matter how long it takes!” Landon leaves the ring before the referee is stirred into a hissy fit, and Duran enters the ring, taking a glance at Charlie Matthews before landing a right hand into the forehead of Clark, staggering him again as history seems to be repeating for Alan. However, instead of moving to the center of the ring, Duran grasps Clark’s hair and moves over to the other corner. “What is Citizen Duran doing now?” Comet wonders out loud, “does he realize that that is not his corner?” Duran stays a safe distance away from the Grappler, but shows the champion the dazed face of Alan Clark, his brains slowly being scrambled from the beating he has been taking from the Unnamed. Matthews is incited and puts one leg into the ring before the referee turns him back, telling him to stay in his corner. With the ref preoccupied, Duran blatantly closes his fist and aims carefully, jamming it right between the eyes of Clark as the crowd is extremely angered. Riley cackles as he watches all of this. “I can’t help but laugh, Comet! Clark is getting his ass handed to him!” “I wouldn’t count Alan out, Robert.” Comet responds, “I’ve seen very few competitors with as much heart as Alan Clark.” “Or as many personalities…” Riley offers. Grabbing Clark by his increasingly longer hair, the Notorious One swings his opponent in front of him, grabbing a front face-lock and smirking as he tosses Clark’s arm over his head. Lifting the wrestler-turned-musician off the mat, Duran falls backwards, crashing to the mat with a vertical suplex. Clark’s eyes glaze over a bit as he quickly attempts to crawl to his corner, but Duran grabs him by the waist band and lifts him back off the mat, dragging Alan back into the ring- staying away from the champion while isolating his opponent. As the crowd lets loose a barrage of jeers, Duran pulls Clark to his feet. “I’ve rarely seen one team dominate another so convincingly straight out of the gate.” Comet exclaims, reflecting on the early portion of the match. “I told you.” Riley brags in response. “It’s because the Unnamed are a well oiled machine, and their opponents are operating from three different playbooks!” But as Duran lifts Clark into a standing position, Alan’s second wind blows in. Wrapping his arms around the Notorious One’s arm and leaping up into the air, Clark hooks his opponent’s other arm with his ankles, attempting to bring Duran down with a crucifix. The crowd initially cheers, but when Duran holds his ground, the cheers fade into disappointment. “And the big man, not going ANYWHERE!” Riley crows, just as Coy West parts the ropes, charging into the ring. Leaping into the air, West kicks out his legs and dropkicks Duran in the face, toppling him to the mat, and assisting his partner in a crucifix pin. The crowd erupts as the referee hits the mat. ONE! TW…..NO! KICKOUT! “The first real show of cohesive teamwork there by Clark and West!” Comet cries, as Duran rolls out of the pin attempt. “And it gets a near-fall on the leader of the Unnamed!” “Yeah, but that ‘amazing show of teamwork’ wasn’t exactly legal, Comet. And now Captain Redneck is getting a talking to from the ref.” Riley responds, as the official backs West sternly into his own corner. With the ref distracted, Todd Royal darts into the ring and grabs Clark by the ankle, dragging him back to the Unnamed’s corner. As Duran rolls out of the ring, Landon Maddix claps his hands together, feigning a tag, and allowing Todd to take over on Clark again. “Now THAT’S teamwork, Comet!” Riley gushes. “That’s cheating.” Comet responds matter-of-factly. Scooping his old nemesis off the canvas, Royal flashes a grin at the crowd and drops to one knee, draping Clark across his knee with a backbreaker. Instead of releasing Alan, however, Royal grinds his forearm into his opponent’s neck, holding him in the painful position. Sneering at the crowd, and at West, Royal spits forcefully into Clark’s face. BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! “Todd Royal, obviously still harboring some resentment toward Alan Clark.” Comet points out. “If you remember, it was Clark who defeated Royal to end Todd’s second reign as SJL champion.” “I didn’t watch the SJL..” Riley trails off, before exploding in emotion. “Todd in Heaven look at THAT!” Riley’s joy is due to Landon Maddix charging the ring to assist his partner. Springing off of Alan Clark, La Cucaracha leaps into the air and drives his knee into the face of Charlie Matthews and knocking the champion off the apron! “An amazing athletic move from Citizen Maddix, to be sure,” Comet concedes, “but it’s just another example of nefarious tactics from the Unnamed.” Dropping Clark from his knee, Royal stands up in the Unnamed’s corner, jawing with Coy West as the referee escorts Maddix from the ring. As West plants his finger in Todd’s chest and shakes his head, Clark dives through his opponent’s legs, making the tag to the Wild one. YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!! “NO!” Riley screams in disbelief. “Alan Clark with the tag to Coy West! We could be seeing the tide FINALLY turning away from the Unnamed!” As Comet pours on the praise, West steps through the ropes with fire in his eyes. A shocked and angry Royal unleashes a left hand, but Coy blocks, blasting Todd in the face with a punch of his own. A second attempt by Royal is blocked, and West peppers his opponent with two more jabs, before spinning around and flooring Todd with a discus punch. As the crowd erupts, the Unnamed pour into the ring. “Coy West is a Texas Roadhouse-afire!” Comet roars, as Duran and Maddix hit the ring to defend their partner. West ducks a clothesline from Duran and clocks Landon with a forearm shot, as the crowd pops louder with each step Coy takes. Duran turns to face the fiery everyman, but just then Charlie Matthews steps back onto the apron, sending the Notorious One skidding from the ring. As West dumps Maddix as well, the crowd breaks into cheers. “COY!” “COY!” “COY!” “COY!” The match settles down as West peels Royal off the canvas and sends him hard into the turnbuckles with an Irish whip. Todd staggers out of the corner, but Coy follows him in, slamming him back into the buckles with a charging clothesline. Royal slumps in the corner, and an angry West mounts him and begins to fire away. “ONE!” “TWO!” “THREE!” “FOUR!” “I don’t know what Coy’s problem is with Royal.” Riley ponders, “the man is our Todd and Savoir!” “FIVE!” “SIX!” “SEVEN!” “EIGHT!” “Coy West grew up in the American Bible Belt.” Comet responds as the crowd continues to count. “He sees Royal as an insult to his upbringing and his lifestyle. Coy is a god-fearing man.” “NINE!” “He should be a TODD-fearing man!” Riley responds, laughing at his own pun. “TEN!” West jumps back down to the mat and steps aside, as Todd tumbles out of the corner and sprawls out on the canvas. As Royal rolls over onto his back to catch his breath, Coy hit’s the ropes, springing back into the ring and dropping an elbow across his opponent’s chest. Calling the ref over to him, West hooks his opponent’s legs for the cover. ONE! TWO! NO!! “Royal summons the strength of Todd to kick out!” Riley erupts as Royal slips out from under his opponent. “But you have to feel the momentum shifting in the favor of West, Clark and Matthews,” Comet responds, as West reaches over to make the tag, bringing in the World Heavyweight Champion. “And HERE comes the Grappler!!” The crowd erupts in cheers as Charlie Matthews steps into the ring and grabs Royal by the head, snapmaring him back to the canvas before the champion drives his knee stiffly into the neck of his opponent. The Grappler shoots a glare into the Unnamed’s corner, and John Duran immediately takes a step back, nearly kicking Megan in the head. “John Duran certainly seems apprehensive about getting in there with the champ,” Comet observes. “For all his talking after matches, the Notorious One seems in no hurry to actually make contact with citizen Matthews.” “You’re insane, Comet.” Riley responds, as Matthews goes back to work on Royal. “Duran simply slipped on that slick ring apron. Someone should really take a look at that. It could kill someone…” As the champion lifts him off the canvas, Royal slugs him in the gut and doubles him over. Desperately, Todd hooks him around the neck and rolls to the mat, attempting to pin Matthews with a small package. The Grappler rolls through, however before a one count can be registered, and blasts Todd with a kick to the head. Lifting Royal off the canvas, Matthews steps behind his opponent and drapes Todd’s arm over his neck. Wrapping his large arms around Royal’s chest, Matthews lifts his opponent off the canvas, dropping to one knee and dropping Todd with a big atomic drop. Todd staggers forward briefly, before Matthews grabs him around the head and bulldogs him into the canvas. “GRA-PULL-ER!” “GRA-PULL-ER!” “GRA-PULL-ER!” “The crowd is firmly behind our World Heavyweight Champ!” Comet yells over the cheers of the crowd. “And it looks like Matthews’ team has finally gotten on the same page!” Pulling Royal off the mat and sending him into the ropes, Matthews ducks his head for a backdrop. Instinctively, Todd jumps into the air and leapfrogs him, sprinting to the opposite ropes as the Grappler spins around. The champion snarls and raises his arm for a clothesline, but Royal desperately rolls into him, blasting him with a Koppu kick. OOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! “Royal with a huge rolling kick to take down the champion!” Riley raves, as both men begin to crawl to their corners. “Todd bless that man! He can do anything!” With Matthews clutching his head, Royal takes a deep breath and lunges for his corner. His intended target, John Duran, immediately drops the tag rope and steps to the floor, however, causing Todd to face plant in the corner. Dazed and scowling, Royal turns to tag in Maddix as the champion slaps hands with Alan Clark. “Thank Todd Duran dropped down to tie his shoe right there. He wouldn’t want to walk into an encounter with Matthews with his shoe untied.” Riley rambles, as the crowd buzzes for the impending confrontation. “But apparently Matthews ran to make the tag as soon as he thought Duran was coming in anyway.” “You’re delusional Bobbo.” Landon Maddix and Alan Clark step simultaneously into the ring, and both stop short. Each man’s face breaks into a sadistic smile, and within seconds they’re on top of each other, trading fists and forearms as they roll on the mat. “This confrontation has been a long time coming!” Comet yells, as the men struggle to gain an advantage. “Clark and Maddix have been itching to destroy each other for weeks now, and they're finally going face to face!” Maddix wraps his hands around the cruiserweight champion’s throat and attempts to strangle the life out of him, but Clark drives his knees into his opponent’s chest and rolls him over. As the crowd stands to get a look at the competitors, Alan rolls over again, sending both men falling through the ropes and onto the concrete. As the men hit the floor, Maddix rolls off his opponent, and springs to his feet. Clark scrambles up after him, but Landon dropkicks him in the knee, sending Alan sprawling onto the ring mats. With a cocky smile on his face, Landon rolls back into the ring, drawing boos from the rabid crowd. “Smart move by your next Cruiserweight Champion.” Riley says as Maddix plays to the crowd. “He drew Alan out of the ring, and then left him laying out there.” “You have to wonder if maybe it’s too early for Clark to re-enter the match.” Comet responds. “He has had time to recover, but he took a hellacious beating at the hands of the Unnamed earlier in this match.” As Maddix distracts the referee, Megan Skye circles the ring, running past Alan and booting him in the face. As the crowd jeers, Skye flashes an innocent grin, and Clark pulls himself up to the ring apron. Turning his attention to Clark, Landon’s expression suddenly turns serious again. Maddix motions at Clark to “bring it”, but when the rocker charges, Landon simply smiles and makes the tag, bringing John Duran back into the match. “Brilliant strategy by the Unnamed, just playing mind games with Alan Clark.” Riley gushes as the groups leader steps over the ropes. “I’m just glad Duran got that shoe problem worked out…” Comet replies sarcastically. The Notorious One smirks at Clark as his steps into the ring, but Alan immediately pounces, unloading forearm shots to Duran’s face! Each strike rocks Duran back until he is pressed up against the ropes...just out of Todd Royal's reach, as he tries to stretch the tag rope to make a tag. Clark grabs hold of Duran by the arm and irish whips him across the ring, before crouching down in preparation for The Notorious One's return. However Duran is able to put the brakes on before reaching Clark, and smashing Clark in the face with a knee lift! Dropping down, Duran hooks the Cruiserweight Champion's outside leg for the cover... ONE! TWO! ...KICKOUT! Quickly Duran drag Alan from the mat by the hair, grabbing Alan and irish whipping him in the direction of a neutral corner. The force of the whip causes Clark to hit the buckles and recoil from the impact, as Duran finds some nimbleness and charging towards Clark. He sees John coming though, side-stepping and causing Duran to crash into the corner. "Citizen Duran shouldn't be trying speed-orientated moves against a cruiserweight...much less the Cruiserweight Champion!" "Speed-orientated moves?" Riley questions. "All he did was run towards Clark!" " ... " Taking a number of steps back, Clark stops to glare across at Landon Maddix, before charging forward...springing off his hands as he cartwheels towards Duran, before leaping into the air... *SMACK!* ...and almost breaking Duran's jaw with a VICIOUS kick! "One Hit Wonder!" Comet instinctively yells. "What a show of agility from the Cruiserweight Champion!" Clark backs away from the corner, as meanwhile Duran staggers away from the corner, clearly groggy. As he then slowly collapses back into the buckles, Alan smiles and points towards The Grappler on the apron, to an eruption from the crowd... ...but before he can make a tag, Landon Maddix runs into the ring and wipes Clark out with a clothesline! "BOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" Quickly Landon retreats from the ring, as Duran now has time to crawl to the Unnamed corner and tag in Todd Royal. Todd shoots into the ring, pulling Clark off the mat and drilling him with a BIG forearm smash. Another connects, buckling Clark's legs from the impact...as Todd takes a step back, and smacks Alan with another shin strike. A quick step takes Royal behind Clark, where he throws Alan's arm over his head and takes Alan up for a Blue Thunder Powerbomb...but, in mid-air Clark manages to squirm from Royal's grip, and counter with a hurricanrana!!! "Gorgeous counter!" Comet again yells. "Would you at least TRY and be impartial?" Riley whines in response. "Bwah! If you're ever looking for a definition of irony, that was it." Slowly Todd begins to crawl towards his corner, as Clark is on his own way to his team's corner too. As the race is on, suddenly John Duran conveniently spots a dis-respectful fan in the crowd, and leaps from the apron to have words with him. That leaves Landon Maddix to receive the tag... ...as the tag is made on the other side... ...AND HERE COMES THE GRRRAAAPLEEERRR!!! "RAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!" The World Champion steps into the ring with the man he beat on Lockdown to stay that way, and quickly wipes him out with an effortless clothesline. Landon staggers up, and gets gorilla pressed into the air by Grappler...who waits for Todd to walk over, before tossing Maddix onto 'his Todd'. Meanwhile, as Duran continues to stay clear of the ring, Coy West has seen enough, storming around the ring to where Duran stands before unloading with right hands on the Notorious One! "All hell is breaking loose Bobbo...and it's no surprise considering the combustible elements in and around the ring!" Quickly Alan Clark comes back into the ring, taking Todd and himself out with a big clothesline over the top rope. That leaves Landon in the ring with the fresh, and INTENSE~! World Champion! Despite the pain he's in, Landon gets to his feet...to be met with a stiff boot from Matthews. As Maddix doubles over, the champion quickly steps to the side, wrapping his arms around Maddix's waist and lifting him vertically into the air...showing off his superior strength before finally dropping back with a gutwrench suplex! However, rather than give his opponent a reprieve, Grappler keeps hold of his grip and pulls Landon from the mat. Popping the hips Grappler takes Landon over with a second big gutwrench suplex... ...but pulls Landon up for a THIRD time, with the gutwrench grip still locked in. Frantic elbows are thrown by Maddix, but there's no escape from Matthews...who pulls Landon up in the gutwrench. Keeping him hanging over the mat, Matthews looks around the crowd...before bring Maddix back down across his now bent knee! "Gutbuster by the champion..." Comet calls out. "He's just having his way with Maddix." Keeping Landon across his knee, Grappler notices Alan Clark climbing to the top rope and holds The Disciple in place. Eventually Clark reaches the top, before springing off and dropping a leg across the back of Landon's head! Matthews, the legal man, flips Landon over and makes the cover... ONE! TWO! ...DURAN PULLS GRAPPLER OFF!!! "BOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" Angrily, Grappler turns to the outside, where Duran stands innocently...before rolling out, causing Duran to flee! The chase goes on around the ring, until Duran ducks around a corner...allowing Todd to leap from the apron, and wipe out Grappler with a crossbody! Unsurprisingly Duran takes advantage by putting the boots to Grappler, as Clark now rolls into the ring. "John Duran had better find some guts and soon if he ever wants to become the World Champion!" Comet says in disgust. "What do you mean!?! He's putting the boots to the champion. That takes guts!" "He was running away from Matthews until Todd helped! Is...is your monitor even on?" "It's on...just...not on the same channel as yours..." "It's wha...why has that guy got handcuf...oh God!" As the Riley and Comet show continues on the outside, Alan Clark now stands over Maddix in the ring. Slowly The Disciple begins to pull himself up, but as he gets to his knees and spots Clark over him, quickly he begs off. Clark simply smiles, before slamming his boot into Maddix's jaw! Scurrying away Landon looks for a reprieve, but instead finds himself backed into a corner with Clark firing away with right hands immediately! Luckily for Landon, Todd Royal is alert...rolling into the ring and pulling Clark away from his Disciple. However, Clark's right hands continue, now rocking Royal! "Alan Clark has ERUPTED!" Comet again shouts in delight. The numbers game eventually catches Clark, as Landon attacks from behind. Now Landon and Todd double team the Cruiserweight Champion with punches and forearms...until Coy West rolls into the ring, and starts to help out his partner. Duran and Matthews are STILL brawling on the outside, which has almost turned this match into a tag match. West and Landon brawl in one corner of the ring, as Clark backs Royal into the opposite corner. With a quick look, Clark and West whip their adversaries across the ring... ...both of them colliding in the center of the ring!!! "GRA - PULL - ER!!! GRA - PULL - ER!!! GRA - PULL - ER!!!" The crowd are now behind Matthews, as he has taken over on Duran with right hands, which are causing the Notorious One to back away from the World Champion! Meanwhile, West and Clark are planning something in the ring...with Todd and Landon staggered, both West and Clark charge forwards towards them. Landon hits the deck however, and takes Todd down with him, but West sees it and stops. Clark doesn't though, and as if it were a bad cartoon, Clark collides with his team-mate and takes him out with a clothesline!!! Realising his mistake Clark quickly checks on West... *DING!* ...but gets a lowblow from Maddix, before being thrown from the ring and HARD to the floor! "See, that's what I'm talking about...teamwork. Coy West has said he's after anyone with power...including his partners. And Clark is a goof. There's no teamwork there, and it is about to cost West." West quickly regains his feet, and is met with a series of kicks to the chest by Maddix. However West is eventually able to catch one of those kicks and pull himself and Landon out from the corner. Landon swings with his free leg looking for an enziguri, but West ducks that and boots Maddix HARD in the back of the head. Now Todd Royal charges at Coy, but he's able to counter with a backdrop...causing Todd to land on Landon! Todd quickly gets up, as Coy grabs him and tosses him over the top rope... ...AND ONTO DURAN AND GRAPPLER!!! "OH!" Comet bursts out. "Everybody's down...except Coy." "And Landon!" Landon pounces, catching West in the back of the head with a forearm, before backing into the corner and leaping to the middle rope. But Coy sees him, and deftly fires his elbow into Maddix's gut before yanking him off the ropes and to the mat! As Maddix gets up, Coy looks to the crowd and runs his thumb across his throat, causing the crowd to cheer wildly and jump to their feet. "SLING - SHOT - SU - PLEX!" *clap clap clapclapclap* "SLING - SHOT - SU - PLEX!" *clap clap clapclapclap* "SLING - SHOT - SU - PLEX!" *clap clap clapclapclap* Coy looks to give the crowd what they want, as he hooks Landon in suplex position and raises him in the air. Bringing Landon's feet down across the ropes Coy looks for the slingshot part of the move... ...but Todd has now leapt onto the apron, and grabbed a hold of Landon's feet...holding them down across the ropes in a desperate attempt to save his Disciple. Angrily Coy releases Landon, and grabs hold of Todd under the arm, hiptossing him back into the ring. A big clothesline follows...as does a second, before Coy grabs Royal and pulls him into piledriver position. Sensing trouble, Megan hops to the apron and distracts the referee... *CHING!* ...LOWBLOW BY TODD! "Damn it! Todd Royal with a lowblow...and why am I not surprised!" sneers Comet. "Maybe it's because you always think the worst of people." "Is it any wonder, when Todd does that to people?" As Coy doubles over holding his little Coys, Todd finds the strength to hoist West off his feet and into a spinebuster position. Suddenly Coy starts to fight back, drilling Todd's head area with right hands. Across the ring Clark tries to re-enter the ring to provide further help, but gets knocked off the apron by Maddix...who quickly jogs over to where West is mounting his comeback, and nails him with a right hand. Another connects, but still West is fighting...so Maddix grabs West's head, pulling it down until it's at the right height to lock on a front facelock... ...and drop West down, with the Converting The Sinner!!! "They hit it!!! Todd and Landon convert that redneck sinner baby!!!" Riley wails, clearly in hysterics. Coy is seemingly out, and with Clark not much better off, and Grappler busy with John Duran on the floor, Todd is free to roll on top of Coy and hook the desperate cover… ONE! TWO! GRAPPLER IN FOR THE SAV… THREEEEE!!! “Damn it…” mutters Comet. “Grappler was just too late!” “A convincing win for The Unnamed…no less than I and their legions of fans!” Riley beams, ignoring his partner completely. “Here are your winners by pinfall…THE UNNAAAAAAMMMEEED!!!” Landon pulls Todd up from the cover, and quickly out of the ring as Grappler closes in but doesn’t get his hands on either man. Meanwhile Megan helps the recovering Duran to his feet, and helps him over to his victorious comrades. “Grappler’s woeful form continues…” Riley beams yet again. “…but better yet, Todd proves why he is the Almighty yet again. It’s so great to be me right about now!” “I’m sure it is…Citizens…we’ll see you on Storm.” As Comet’s distained voice fades away, so does Smarkdown…with another worryingly pro-Unnamed ending as the last view.

Alex Zenon leans back in his comfy chair in his less than comfy office. In the period of one match, the stack of folders and papers on his desk has lessened somewhat, with a small, presumably completed pile to the other side of him. At the moment, the interim commissioner has his feet up on his desk, and is currently looking over a comic book. "Oh, Akaimet, I still don't understand why they put you in a suit," he mumbles, flipping a page. It takes a moment for Zenon to realize that some sort of shadow has fallen over his reading light. Alex tips the comic downward to look over his desk. And then he looks up. The behemoth Terrence 'Janus' Bailey clears his throat. "Um... can I help you?" Alex intones. "Mr. Commissioner," Terrence rumbles. "...Furfire?" Alex blinks, and then realizes Janus is talking about the comic in his hands. "Oh... yeah. It's my neice's favourite." "Sure," Bailey nods, grinning slightly. "Right, now really. What can I do for you... Terrence, yes?" "Good to know you're more associated with me than Landon." "Yeah, well... you were at least in the JL when I was still active. I was actually told by Mark to read your file before I looked at anyone else's," Alex states. The anti-heel machine's expression, which wasn't terribly friendly to begin, falls a little. "Really?" "Yes..." Alex begins, tepidly. "You're the only wrestler on the roster who has a full psychoanalysis along with his medical. I imagine that was probably part of the reason." Terrence's eyes narrow as he regards Alex, who is beginning to look uncomfortable, but decides to get to his point. "Well... anyway. If you've read my file, I'm sure you understand why I'm here." "To brey on behalf of the Trinity, I presume?" "I resent that comparison," says Terrence, coldly. "Never the less, yes. If you wish to call meeting the commissioner so that we can come to an understanding on our points of view 'breying'." "I don't suppose you saw me speaking to--" "I did," Bailey interrupts. "It's good to know that you don't intend to play favourites, but... in this business, words like that hold little meaning. I'm undestandably skeptical. You see, the Trinity and Mark Stevens had an understanding. He didn't always appreciate our... somewhat morbid methods of dealing with enemies, but he knew why we did it. He knew why the fans liked it. He respected us as competitors, and we respected him as a man of his word." Pulling his feet off his desk, Alex cups his face with one hand, returning Terrence' even stare. "And... you want to make sure I have the same kind of qualities, no?" "Perciesely," says Bailey. "What's more is that Mark... wouldn't have gotten his job if it weren't for the Trinity, if it weren't for Dace winning a three way at Genesis." Alex frowns. "So is that what this is really about? Are you saying that Mark owed you something? That because I'm commissioner now, that I owe you something?" Terrence looks at the little man in the chair below him with the almost derisive look on his face. He licks his lips, and suddenly... bursts into a grin. "Mr. Zenon... what did you think of my profile?" "I think... you're a man I should be very wary of." "Afraid of?" "Maybe." Janus' face darkens as he leans in across the desk. "Good." "Look, Terry, if you're trying to intimidate me..." Alex trails off, obviously intimidate me. "Intimidate you? Absolutely. Rest assured you aren't speaking to 'Terry' anymore," Janus growls. "He might be willing to be diplomatic with you, just because you're the commissioner now... but I don't like you. I don't like your attitude. I saw what you said to Maddix, and there is no doubt in my mind that you regard me... us, and the Trinity, the same way you look at the Unnamed. You don't take us seriously, and you would rather not concern yourself with the ones we have. You claim to be unbaised, but you're merely ignorant. You have an agenda, Zenon. No-one should doubt this." Alex shivers. "Don't make accusations when..." The fire in giant's eyes silences him. "Don't play defense when you know I'm right, Zenon. I also know that if I was even five inches shorted and fifty pounds lighter you'd be making light of this, just as you did with Maddix." There is a long pause. As Zenon uneasily stares Janus in the eyes, a look which the hulking man returns. Slowly, he moves in closer, until Zenon and Janus are only seperated by inches. "I am not Landon Maddix," Janus whispers. "I am not a paper tiger." Suddenly, Janus pulls his face away, and murmurs 'remember that' as the look on his face softens considerably. Looking somewhat regretful, he runs a hand through his hair. "Thank you for your time, commissioner." And as the giant stalks out the room, Alex Zenon breathes. Sighing disdainfully, he decides it might be best to get back to work on some papers. "Why... do I feel like taking this job may have been a mistake?" he mutters, as we fade out.

The arena is silent except for the murmuring of the crowd, but that quickly changes a massive wall of blue and silver pyrotechnics fires up all across the stage, Cypress Hill's "How I Could Just Kill A Man" kicking into action as Stryke steps out onto the stage wearing the USJL Title belt! The crowd rise to their feet in boos, Stryke quickly heading down the ramp to the beat and climbing up onto the ring apron. The Australian pauses to look out into the crowd, and as the chorus hits Stryke steps to the second turnbuckle and raises his arms to the crowd, further drawing their ire as Funyon commences the introductions. ”Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall. Making his way to the ring, from Sydney, Australia, and weighing in at 217 pounds, the USJL Unified Champion… STRYKE!” Stryke hops over the top rope and into the ring, casually leaning back on the ropes as he waits for his opponent. “And his opponent…” The lights dim, and for a moment, everything is quiet. Then, as the SmarkTron lights up, and the guitars begin to vibrate through the arena, the fans leap to their feet! They begin to roar with approval as the Philosopher Kings’ “I Am The Man” rocks out through the arena, accompanied by a burst of blue pyro. The SmarkTron breaks into the video. Ego Buster! SUPERIOR ONE Boilermaker! AWARD-WINNING Ego Trip! MAIN ATTRACTION Logical Disconnect! THE MAN The fans continue screaming, some cheering and some booing Flesher. As the smoke clears from the entrance, the Superior One steps out from behind the curtain, prompting another huge pop from the crowd. He stands on the platform in his warm-up suit, folding his arms across his chest and smirking in a self-satisfied manner. He stands there for a few seconds, and is rewarded with a spraying backdrop of white pyro that reduces him to a silhouette. He continues walking, finally entering the ring. “From Buffalo, New York, and weighing in at 231 pounds, ‘the Superior One,’ TOM FLESHER!!!!!” Flesher nods, strips off his warm-up and stretches out as Eddy Long calls both competitors to the center. DING DING DING!!!! “And this one’s underway,” says Bobby Riley. “Flesher and Stryke, two of the SWF’s eldest statesmen, are competing once again.” “Again?” asks Comet. “Have they faced off before?” “Eh,” Riley shrugs. “I’m not sure, so let’s say yes.” Flesher starts off the match in a low crouching stance, telegraphing a coming leg attack. Stryke circles around, trying to avoid the attack he can see from a mile away, but Flesher shoots in and snags his ankle anyway! Stryke posts one hand on Flesher’s head and quickly slips his leg up and out, swinging it away from the Superior One’s hands. He pivots with one foot on the mat and reaches down, locking Flesher in a front facelock. Tom stands up, trying to get into better position and fight his way out, but Stryke quickly spins out and takes Flesher to the mat with a swinging neckbreaker! Stryke covers him as he hits the mat, but Flesher kicks out before Eddy Long can make a count. “Tom Flesher tries to take control,” says Bobby Riley, “but Stryke is ready for him and counters the low single into a swinging neckbreaker.” “Of course, Stryke isn’t about to get an early fall on someone like Tom Flesher, and so the match will continue in the continuing pursuit of…” “I thought we had an agreement about using the J-word, Comet.” “I would do no such thing. After all, it’s the catchphrase that sells t-shirts.” As Tom Flesher starts to get to his feet, Stryke quickly hops to a vertical base. Flesher moves in, angling for position, but Stryke ducks under his arm and sprints across the ring. Caught by surprise, Flesher quickly turns around, only to see the Sydney native flying at him with a dropkick! Tom staggers backwards and into the ropes, where another well-placed dropkick sends him tumbling to the outside! This draws a cheer from the crowd, always happy to see action. Flesher quickly gets to his feet as Stryke grabs the top rope with both hands and slingshots over it. Flesher looks up, but doesn’t have enough time to avoid the plancha as Stryke falls down toward him! The fans cheer the high-risk maneuver as Stryke gets up, dusts himself off and grabs Flesher by the straps of his singlet. He rolls the Superior One back into the ring, then follows quickly after. He pulls Flesher to his feet and lifts him off the mat, then sits out before hammering Flesher to the mat with a scoop slam! Stryke hooks one of Flesher’s legs, and Eddy Long counts ONE! but no more, as Flesher kicks out and rolls to his stomach. “Stryke nails the sit-out scoop slam, but only gets one,” says Bobby Riley. “The USJL Champion came into this match with a head of steam,” says Comet, “and seems to be capitalizing on that as he dominates the early portion of the match. Flesher, on the other hand, is unable to buy a break, as he toes the line between the white of goodness and the inky black of evil. As it stands, he seems to be a dovish shade of grey, and we shall see which side develops in this encounter.” Flesher sits up, as Stryke backs away and measures him for another attack. Tom gets to his knees, and Stryke charges at him, throwing a low enzuigiri! Flesher ducks, though, bellying down to the mat as Stryke overextends and lands on the mat! Flesher gets up, shaking out the last few minutes of beatings. Stryke gets onto his hands and knees, but Flesher nonchalantly boots him in the face and sends him back to the mat. Once again, Stryke tries to get up, but the annoyed-looking former World Champion simply stiffs him in the face with a Doc Marten once again as he tries to regain his bearings. “Look at that killer instinct,” says Riley admiringly. “Flesher doesn’t give a damn about his opponent. Not in the least.” “Of course, that could be because he’s delusional,” Comet replies. “After all, Flesher has shown an aptitude for self-aggrandizement the likes of which have never graced an SWF ring before.” “And you are…?” “Cyclooooooooooooooooooone COMET~!” shouts the color man. “Point being?” “Never mind.” Flesher cracks his neck and appears to be ready to fight again, just as Stryke gets back up. Tom turns around and unloads a stiff kick to the thigh of his opponent! Stryke’s leg shakes as he catches the full impact unexpectedly, but the Australian maintains his balance. Flesher casually whacks him again, nailing him in the meat of the quadriceps muscle with the steel toe of his combat boot. This time, Stryke’s leg shakes a little more, and he drops to one knee. Flesher takes that as a sign and charges toward him, nailing him with a short-range Yakuza kick and putting him on the mat. Flesher covers him for ONE!! NO! Stryke kicks out! Flesher rolls his eyes and slams a forearm down across the bridge of Stryke’s nose. He grinds the bone of his arm across Stryke’s face and once again goes for the fall. Eddy Long counts ONE!! TWO!!! NO! Once again, Stryke kicks out. “Flesher gets one, then two, but can’t seem to finish the job,” says Riley. “And once again, we have concern that Tom Flesher has lost something in the translation,” says Comet. “Perhaps his espousal of the darker side, as with his attack of Allison Onita last week, has led him to corrupt. Absolute power does, after all, corrupt absolutely.” “I don’t know, Comet. You were the one who said last week that there wasn’t really anything wrong with hitting Allison with that chair,” says Riley. “Besides, we saw Flesher bump into both of the Onitas this afternoon, and Allison wasn’t angry at all.” Stryke tries to sit up, but Flesher whacks him with a palm strike that puts him back on the mat. From there, the Superior One grabs his opponent by the right leg and drags him to the center. He spins around, applying a spinning toehold to Stryke’s right leg, and before the Australian can counter, bars the left leg and falls back into a figure four leglock! The fans pop as Flesher tightens the hold, and Stryke struggles to reach the ropes! “Fans,” says Cyclone Comet, “we’re sorry to have to do this, but we need to take a commercial break! We’ll be right back!” Riley raises an eyebrow. “What the he-?” === The camera zooms in on Michael Craven, sitting at a desk, scowling and eating a bowl of peas. “Craven’s frozen peas,” he growls. “Full of Cravenosity and green pea-ness.” He pauses. “Wait, that’s terrible. I quit.” He gets up and walks away. “I wish I had a beard,” he murmurs as he walks offscreen. “This bit’s just not as good without the French fry caught in the beard.” === As the camera returns to Smarkdown, Stryke is leaning in a corner, his back to the turnbuckles. Tom Flesher is standing in front of him and alternately whacking him with kicks to the thigh, palm strikes and backhands. Stryke tries to fight his way out and attempts to block the strikes, but simply can’t keep up! Eventually, a well-placed kick to the left quad takes Stryke’s leg out from under him once again, and leaves him sitting in the corner. The fans begin to cheer as Flesher grabs the ropes for balance. “And here we have a prime example of the darkening of Flesher’s tendencies,” says Cyclone Comet worriedly. “His actions in the ring are blackening like an overcooked piece of steak, and as we all know, a well-done steak is as good as leather.” “What the hell are you talking about?” asks Riley, truly perplexed. “Oh, it’s vital to security and crimefighting. You wouldn’t understand it.” Completely disregarding the discussion of steak and leather, Flesher lifts his boot off the mat and plants it in Stryke’s face. Then, with all the force he can muster, he scrapes the sole of the boot across Stryke’s face! The USJL Champion convulses in pain and tries to cover up, but Flesher kicks his hands down and scrapes his face once again with the sole of his boot! The fans cheer the callous attack as Flesher kicks Stryke in the face one final time and then executes a third bootscrape! He steps back and begins a golf-clap, and the fans go absolutely wild! “Regardless of the dovish coloring of Flesher’s hawkish tendencies, it seems that the fans are still beholden to him,” Comet notes. “Sadly, they may be chasing a rainbow.” “I thought we had an agreement about using that phrase.” Flesher reaches down and grabs Stryke’s hand, lifting him to his feet. He starts to whip Stryke across the ring, and the Australian quickly regains his momentum and hits the ropes. He bounces up to the middle rope and arches back, nailing Flesher with an Asai moonsault! He lands on top, holding Tom for ONE!!! TWO!!!!! NO! Flesher gets a shoulder up, but is still slightly stunned. Stryke stands up, grabbing Flesher by the head and putting him in a standing headscissors. He reaches down, threading Flesher’s arm through his legs for a pumphandle. The crowd reacts, but before Stryke can lift Flesher up for the Low End Theory, Flesher executes a quick forward roll! He stands up, hands locked with Stryke’s, and pulls his opponent into a short-arm palm blow! Stryke collapses to the mat, and Flesher covers him for ONE!!! TWO!!!! THR- NO!!!! Stryke kicks out! Flesher lifts Stryke back up and drops down, going for a low single leg, this time grabbing for the right leg! Stryke once again drops back, avoiding Flesher’s grip and swinging the right leg back. This time, though, Flesher pivots on the mat and picks Stryke’s left knee, lifting the leg off the mat! In a flash, he stands up and hooks Stryke’s head. Quickly, he arches back, locking his hands and executing a picture-perfect fisherman’s suplex! ONE!!!! TWO!!!!! THREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DING DING DING!!!! Just after the bell, Stryke kicks and breaks the cradle! Flesher, though, has already won the match! He rolls out of the ring and raises his arms, showing his win for all to see! “Tom Flesher snags a flash pin in this match against Stryke,” says Bobby Riley. “If there’s one thing that’s clear, though, it’s that Flesher is more than willing to focus on kicking the crap out of anyone who’s smaller than he is.” “Will that include another face-off with Ann Onita, or will Flesher merely be making a run at the Cruiserweight Championship?” asks Comet. “Only time,” he says, “will tell.” === The show fades out, and a commercial fills the screen. “From the left, I’m Paul Begala,” says the balding midget. “And from the right, I’m Tucker Carlson,” says the mop-topped, bow-tied commentator. “We hope you’ll join us on CNN’s Crossfire every day at 4:30, where you can watch me continually assault Paul Begala like so.” Carlson picks up a steel chair and slams it over Begala’s head. Begala collapses to the chair, murmuring, “I wish James Carville was here.” “And now,” says Carlson, “back to clubbing baby seals. ~fin~