Thoth

I lived in San Jose area. It used to be the San Jose Arena. Then it became the Compaq Center. I am not wrong on this.

Yes. After the show went up at 5 PM PDT. I had nothing in my box regarding an extension.

It's an unusually cool evening in Anaheim, the effects of September and California seeming to cancel each other out. The show is done, the fans are gone, and the wrestlers are preparing for another erstwhile trek cross-country; a series of house shows before Lockdown. Alexander Zenon sits on the hood of a white Honda Civic, tiredly looking at the still setting sun. It's just after eight o'clock, and he shouldn't be out killing time. There are forms to be filed, calls to be made; more papers to be pushed. A menial and boring routine he's followed on end for months, and always handled as if it was the last time he needed to do it, even the first time he had to. Except, maybe this time... "Zenon... Zenon!" The unmistakeable voice of the Suicide King only seems to dampen the slight chill in the air. Alex sighs. He's been waiting for this. "Zenon, goddamn it, I've been looking for you all day," King growls, "you weren't in your office when I came and you haven't responded to my calls. What--" "My cell phone is off," Aelx replies, without even bothering to turn around. King scowls. "Well, whatever! I've got you now, and that's all that matters. What the hell were you thinking at Genesis? I bet you thought you were real smart pulling a fast one me like that, huh?" Zenon continues to look boredly at the sunset, acting as if King isn't even there, only serving to make him even angrier. "You stupid son of a bitch... Alex, you better pull your head from your ass because from your point of view everything looks like shit! You must WANT Kibagami to become commissioner after you, huh? I didn't forget that threat, and you can take it to the bank, I swear! You goddamn son of a bitch! You better give me one good reason why I don't fire you on the spot! If you started groveling at my feet for you job right now, I think I'd still kick you to curb!" Alex continues to look away from King. With a scream, he kicks a tire of the Civic. "Don't you ignore me if you know what's good for you, Zenon!!" Sighing again, Alex finally turns to face the King, swinging his legs over the fender of the car. "So you're done, then? I was going to let you finish first." "What the hell is that supposed to..." King snaps, before being silenced by Alex's hand. Zenon closes his eyes and runs a hand through his hair before he begins to talk. "King," he starts, "I never really wanted this job. I took it as a favour to Mark, even if we weren't really friends. I was apparently the last guy he knew well enough to trust with it. Edwin was missing, Raynor wasn't a good choice, Spark and Sarah were who-knows-where... you certainly weren't a option. "I left here the first time because I made a lot of mistakes. I couldn't handle Edwin being gone. I couldn't handle the Carnival leadership. I couldn't handle myself in the ring. I... couldn't handle Kibagami. I couldn't handle anything. Yeah, I guess was a fool for trying to think I could be commissioner of the league, but..." Alex shifts, opening his eyes. King still appears to be simmering. "What I did with Kibagami," Alex continues, "No apology could make up for. I didn't realize that until Mark came back. I panicked, I called slime like you to help me out, which is boggling, since objectively you might be worse than Kibagami. When Mark came back, and when I found out what he thought, I could've run away again, just bailed out from my responsibility for the third time, but I felt, for the first time, that I owed it to someone to stick around." King snorts. "Nice little solliloquoy. What are you getting at, Alex, or did that loss to Kibagami really rattle you that much?" Alex glares. "What I'm 'getting at', King, is this. When I came down as the special referee for that match at Genesis, and when I counted that pinfall against Tom, I think I atoned for more than few of my sins." "Aww," chortles the Suicidal one. "So you're redeemed now? Guess what, buster, I'm still going to fire you." Alex shakes his head, sliding off the car hood and moving towards the door. "What an exercise in futility. My letter of resignation was on your desk this morning, King. You've been wasting your time all day. And besides," says Zenon, as he unlocks the door to the Civic, "What would you know about redemption anyway?" King gives Alex a somewhat startled look as he backs away from the car, but shakes it off. "Yeah, well... good! I guess I'll see you [/i]later[/i], Alex," he chides, dripping acidic sarcasm. "No, King..." Zenon begins, stepping into the car. "I'll see you never" And before he can even respond, Alex slams the door shut. King backs away further, muttering curses under his breath, totally unable to revel in this half-victory and taking it out on an unfortunate nearby bottle as he heads back towards the arena. The civic pulls out of its stall, and not quite with a white hat, but white car and all, Alexander Zenon drives off into the sunset...

The Arrowhead Pond fades into view as SWF Storm begins to broadcast. Standing in the ring, microphone in hand, that salty snack treat, Funyon. “Ladies and gentlemen, please rise for the national anthem,” Funyon states and clears his throat in preparation. A strain of very familiar music rumbles over the speakers, but it’s not the anthem, but the fans are cheering anyway. “Oh let the sun beat down upon my face, stars to fill my dream I am a traveler of both time and space, to be where I have been To sit with elders of the gentle race, this world has seldom seen They talk of days for which they sit and wait and all will be revealed” As Funyon belts out Led Zepplin’s “Kashmir”, the SWF-Tron crackles to life, displaying the highlights and memorable moments from Tom Flesher’s career. “Talk and song from tongues of lilting grace, whose sounds caress my ear But not a word I heard could I relate, the story was quite clear Oh, oh. Oh, I been flying... mama, there ain't no denyin' I've been flying, ain't no denyin', no denyin' All I see turns to brown, as the sun burns the ground And my eyes fill with sand, as I scan this wasted land Trying to find, trying to find where I've been.” Boilermakers and bootscrapes. Yakuza kicks and Railgun suplexes. Palm strikes and the Cement Series. Ego Busters and Trips. Victories, titles held aloft, and headdrops, countless headdrops in a veritable “Best of: Tom Flesher” compilation. “Oh, pilot of the storm who leaves no trace, like thoughts inside a dream Heed the path that led me to that place, yellow desert stream My Shangri-La beneath the summer moon, I will return again Sure as the dust that floats high in June, when movin' through Kashmir. Oh, father of the four winds, fill my sails, across the sea of years With no provision but an open face, along the straits of fear Ohh. When I'm on, when I'm on my way, yeah When I see, when I see the way, you stay-yeah Ooh, yeah-yeah, ooh, yeah-yeah, when I'm down... Ooh, yeah-yeah, ooh, yeah-yeah, well I'm down, so down Ooh, my baby, oooh, my baby, let me take you there Let me take you there. Let me take you there” The music fades away, but an image remains on the SWF-Tron: A pair of Doc Marten boots. Funyon lowers the microphone and turns to face the entrance way. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! As the twenty-one pyrotechnic salute ends, Funyon slowly exits the ring as the SWF logo replaces the Doc Martens on the screen.

For one final time the camera returns to the Arrowhead Pond. It does not spin or observe the crowd. Comet: Welcome back Citizens! We only have a few minutes left, but I hear they are going to be a doozy… Riley: If this is who I think it is, I’m just going to puke… It focuses on the entrance stage just as the lights go dark… ::Crack!!:: The crowd begins to cheer and clap, knowing that the Heavy Hitter has finally arrived! As the bass and drums thump the lights around the stage flash in multiple colors. That's the way it begins - you try to behave, yeah, you try to fit in. Uh-Huh But when you rise and stand you find a lock-step march - no room for jazz. Then finally, the loud guitar riff hits and the lead singer of the Gone Jackals sings out “Born Bad!” Red and white pyro explode from either side of the curtain area and a bright white light bathes the audience in it’s glare. When their vision clears and the sparks have died away, they are rewarded with their hero, “Grand Slam” Mark Stevens standing front and center! I've been down. Yeah, I've spent some time downtown. I've covered sacred ground, soft and slow and round. I gave up. Yeah, I learned to give it up, thinkin' that's the final cut. But it turns out I was wrong He starts down the ramp as Funyon raises the ring mic to his lips… “Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome the Heavy Hitter… ‘GRAND SLAM’ MARK STEVENS!!!” Grand Slam works his way down the ramp, slapping hands with his fans all the way. Once to the ring, he rolls under the bottom rope, heads to the nearest corner and climbs to the second rope. He pumps his fist several times in the air as the crowd takes pictures, filling the ring with a strobe effect. Stevens reaches up and pulls his Anaheim Angles cap off his head and tosses it out to the crowd, giving someone a unique souvenir. I grew hard. Over time my scars toughed up. When gettin' even just wasn't enough, I had to choke my conscience off. I've come far. Yeah, I had to travel far. Peel through layers sick and raw just to taste and touch once more. Mark climbs down from the ropes and accepts the mic from Funyon. The crowd is still cheering him loudly, keeping him from using the mic. Finally, a smile on his face, Grand Slam walks calmly to the opposite corner and climbs to the second rope. Again, the crowd lights up the ring with flashes. Grand Slam fires them up a little then drops back to the mat. “Born Bad” fades out and still the crowd cheers, now rising to their feet. In the ring, Grand Slam is visibly moved; looking around the arena like it is his first time in a ring. He reaches up and wipes a tear out of the corner of his eye. He nods his head slowly, then raises the mic. “Thank you all. You have no idea how good that feels.” Another cheer rocks the house and Grand Slam must wait for it to quiet. “Ok… ok… As much as I would love to stand here and listen to your cheers all night, there is some business I have to discuss.” Once more there are cheers from the fans, but they taper off to a respectful silence quickly. “Last Sunday at genesis, I was part of a match that will go down in SWF history. It was a gathering of legends both past and present. And I was fortunate enough to be on the winning side of that match thanks to my partners Edwin MacPhisto…” Massive cheers for the Clown Prince of Flash and Panache rock the house which Grand Slam happily claps along with. “And Landon Maddix!” Again the crowd goes ballistic, cheering for the man who made the deciding pinfall over Tom Flesher. “Now as you all know, I was forced back into action a couple of months ago by the part owner of this Federation, my former friend, the Suicide King.” Boos, many of them, fill the air now. “I’ve been beaten within an inch of my life more times than I care to count since then, but it is almost over. Almost.” With that, a familiar haunting laugh echoes through the arena… ALL ABOARD AH HAH HAH HAH… Once more tonight, “Crazy Train” by Ozzy Osbourne blasts through the speakers causing the fans in attendance to start up another round of boos. Looking pleased with himself, the original Gambling Man, the Suicide King, steps out of the curtain and motions to the tech guys. “Cut the music… cut it! Mark Mark Mark… what am I going to do with you? You’ve been hanging onto this fallacy that you are almost out of my reach. You should have learned by now that I don’t limit myself to humiliating you in the ring. I plan to humiliate you utterly. I want these fans to think of you as a joke, as a worthless lump of flesh who couldn’t wina match by himself to save his life. As someone I personally destroyed. I’m not done yet.” “Doesn’t matter King. I’ve got one match left on my contract and…” “You think a little thing like a contract will stop me? Buddy boy, I can make sure that your pension is gone, that your medical insurance is cut off. I can make sure that every damn dime you have saved from every damn job you or that wife of your ever had is gone. You know it, I know it. And there is only one way to prevent it.” “And that would be?” “Why… You sign a new contract! I’m going to send you to every promotion we do business with, and you’ll guys nobody has ever heard of, guys that are hungry for the opportunity to make a name for themselves by destroying a former legend like you. Then, once in a while, I’ll bring you back up here, to the big show, and put you against a monster and you will lose. Pretty soon, every kid in the country will be laughing at you, calling you ‘Grand Scam’. The Internet will be all over you, calling you a fat-ass and a waste of airtime. And then, finally, I will have my victory.” “That’s a nice plan King. You’ve put a lot of thought into this. But you forgot one thing. I taught you everything you know, I mentored you back in Texas and I got you this job. If it weren’t for me, you’d still be selling underwear part time while you dreamed of being a professional wrestler.” “What’s your point Mark?” “My point is that I know you as well as I know myself. I know how your ego has grown these last few years, and I know how that tiny little brain of yours works. And finally, this once, I got the drop on you.” King looks a little disturbed, but covers it quickly with a chuckle. “You think so? Well then Mark, enlighten me. How did you finally get one over on the Suicide King.” “Did you ever read the contract for the match at Genesis. I mean, really read it closely? Like the part that talked about the stipulations if I won?” “There weren’t any stipulations…” “Oh yes there were. Buried very deep in the section about payoffs and bonuses there was a simple statement that you missed because you assumed you would win. You assumed that those things would never happen. Well your team lost. Mine won. And I have some things to take care of concerning my remaining match.” “What? No!” “Look it up King, and I’d suggest using a lawyer next time. I’d suggest a very good one, but that might be a conflict of interests since I sleep with her.” “Ha ha… fine fine… what do you get, a title shot?” “No King, I get to name the match, the opponent and the stipulation. Anything I want.” “This is…” “You and me King. One more time.” “I’m not ready, I don’t have my gear…” “Not tonight… not on Lockdown, or on Smarkdown or on Storm. You and me, one-on-one next month… at Ashes 2 Ashes!” The crowd is going nuts cheering Grand Slam on as King looks stomps around on the stage pissed beyond comprehension. “Fine, you want me, you got me. There are a million ways I can get the advantage…” “Not this time King. This time, there’s not going to be anyone to hide behind, no crooked refs, no excuses. Just you and me… at Ashes 2 Ashes… no rules.” “No rules? Mark, you have lost your mind. No disqualification is my kind of match! As your friend Landon might say… Cheat to Win!” The crowd lets loose on King with hate for stealing Landon;s catchphrase. In the ring, Grand Slam is leaning on the ropes closest to the stage. His voice has dropped to a near whisper and his eyes are burning with hate. “Winning? I never said anything about winning. All I want is a level playing field. I’ve been waiting years for this King. I’ve pictured this over and over. I don’t want just to win, I want revenge. I want payment for everything you’ve done to me and everyone I care about.” “Mark…” “No more words. You… me… one more time… one on one… at Ashes 2 Ashes…” Everyone in the area is quiet, hanging on the last word. King is finally speechless. It seems no one is breathing, waiting to hear what Grand Slam is going to say… … “HELL IN THE CELL.” The crowd goes insane as “Born Bad” kicks up once again. Grand Slam tosses the mic behind him and rolls out of the ring, never taking his eyes off King. For his part, the Suicide King decdes that this is a gamble he can’t win tonight and walks offstage and through the curtain. Grand Slam makes it to the stage and is cut off by security, all of them making sure the pain doesn’t start tonight. Comet: It’s set! The final showdown between “Grand Slam” Mark Stevens and his arch-nemesis, the dastardly Suicide King will be at Ashes 2 Ashes, and it will be a Hell in the Cell!!” Riley: All I have to say is King is going to destroy Grand Slam. Comet: I wouldn’t be too sure about that! But now it is time to go, but join us on Wednesday for Lockdown, where I am sure the repercussions from this will still be echoing through the SWF! Goodnight! The last camera shot is Grand Slam turning from the security and throwing a fist up in the air, firing the crowd up one more time. FADE

On one side of the dressing room sits the SWF World Heavyweight Title. On the other sits its current holder, the Straight-Edge Sensation. Toxxic sits slumped forward, elbows on knees, looking at the piece of gold he took from Johnny Dangerous at Genesis, and reflects. Johnny gave it his all on Sunday, Toxxic knows. It was a struggle and a half to wrest the title from the Barracuda’s clutches but he did it in the end... just as he promised. And when he won the belt for the second time, as he knelt exhausted in the middle of the ring, the Straight-Edge Sensation had broken down. For once, the walls he so carefully builds to keep the outside world away when he’s under the lights failed him. Not for long, certainly - but it happened. So what if the same thing happens in a match? If I suddenly freeze... or just lose it completely? Briefly, the recollection of a few weeks ago comes back. The weight of Justin Bowers on his shoulders just before he pulled the rookie forwards and down into the Dangerlust, and the odd angle of Bowers’ neck when he looked down at his body in the ring. I was angry then. Johnny had just pulled that upset out of his arse, and Bowers got in my way. Besides, Hearford should never have let him near me. But Toxxic knows that isn’t right. William Heardford III had done everything he could to talk Justin Bowers out of the match the Human Lightning Bolt had so rashly asked for, to the point of pleading with both Justin and Toxxic. The straight-edger had been in control for the majority of the match and could probably have stopped Justin’s brief run of offence without resorting to the measures he did. The question is, was his reaction instinct or spite? And Toxxic knows he doesn’t have the answer. But Bowers was gunning to take me out. He said so himself, in revenge for what we did to Hearford. Whether or not he could have done it, the intent was there. Another memory surfaces; the vague recollection of leaning exhausted against the turnbuckles at 13th Hour, watching as Nathaniel Kibagami fails to answer the ten-count in their Last Man Standing match. Kibagami was certainly trying to take Toxxic out, and he definitely had the means to do it, but then again Toxxic himself had gone into that same match with the sole intention of ending the River Dragon’s career. I promised I’d do that, too. I promised Nathaniel I’d end his career and remove him from my life. And God help me, I always keep my promises. Toxxic’s eyes are unfocused now, staring off into the distance. His conscience is clear on Kibagami’s count - from the moment they both stepped into the ring, only one man was walking out. They both knew that, Alex Zenon had signed the match knowing that, and it was a particularly inattentive fan who wouldn’t have known that. But now, only five days after seeing the totally unexpected return of Edwin MacPhisto - albeit for one night only - and hearing the speech the MacDaddy made, Toxxic has had to consider something that he never thought of before. Did Kibagami know that it was him who was going to take the fall, that in the end he simply would not be able to beat Toxxic again, no matter how hard he tried? Was the knowledge of what was going to happen some twisted way of atoning for Genesis IV, a final act for the Silent One’s career to mimic that of MacPhisto? Toxxic will probably never know. He didn’t have the history and the backstory with Kibagami that MacPhisto did with Raynor, or that Nathaniel did with Edwin. Their match wasn’t the culmination of a grudge held for years, or another chapter in a former friendship gone sour. It was simply him removing another obstacle from his path in the most effective way possible. Nathan was always looking back. That’s what stopped him, in the end - he didn’t bow out when the time was right because he was still fixated on the past. Then before he knew it, the future stepped up and took him out. I took him out. I can’t afford to make the same mistakes. I have the title, I’ve got Sean and Spike depending on me and I’ve got enemies - oh so many enemies - in the here and now. I will always move forward and face what’s coming. Toxxic stands up, picks up his title and stows the twenty pounds of gold safely in his trusty black holdall before stepping out of the locker room door. The rest of Revolution Zero will be waiting in the car park. But as he walks down the quiet, empty corridors, Toxxic cannot get one image out of his head. The sight of Justin Bowers being slowly, carefully loaded onto a stretcher as William Hearford III stands and watches with a look of powerless horror on his face.

As we come back from commercial break we immediately return to the announce desk and the smiling if somber pair of Cyclone Comet and Bobby Riley. "Citizens," Comet begins, "If you saw Genesis you know that an era came to an end here in the SWF that night. None other than 'The Superior One' Tom Flesher made a simple and powerful statement at the end of his six man tag by leaving his trademark Doc Martens in the ring." Riley looks up, any trace of a smirk absent from his face. "Love him or hate him, there is no denying that Tom Flesher has been the most dominant force in the federation for two years now. Well, even though some of us knew that he wanted to go out with a quiet dignity and let his legacy stand for itself we couldn't let that slide by. He has meant too much to this fed for too long." "Agreed, Robert. The locker room would have revolted if they didn't get the chance to tell the world what Tom meant to them and to wrestling in general. And as such the boys in the back and our stellar production team have been burning the midnight oil to try and make a tribute to Tom Flesher. We thinkn they just may have succeeded." "Ladies and gentlemen... Tom Flesher, in the words of his colleagues." We fade to black. The SWF logo appears and then fades again just as fast. Nothing appears on the black screen for a few seconds... but as the screen brightens the epic strains of Led Zeppelin's "Kashmir" can be hear building in strength. The raucous cheers of a capacity crowd can be heard junt under the music as the image itself becomes clear for the first time. It is the Superior One himself alone in the ring, one hand raising the SWF World Heavyweight Championship high into the air. The camera switches in quick succession to different images with different belts, but always the same wrestler... the SJL European Championship. The SJL World Championship. The SWF Light Heavyweight Championship. The SWF Cruiserweight Championship. The Tag Title. The US Title. The ICTV Title. And once more to frame the sequence, the World Championship a second time. As the camera fades once again, a familiar and appropriate voice begins the video retrospective. “Tom… there’s so much to say about Tom." Sitting on a simple stool against a plain background, "Judge Mental" William Hearford sits with a small smile on his face. "I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone with so much raw talent as him. I’ve been in this business for over 20 years and every time I saw him go into ring there was always something new that he was doing that I’d never thought of before. He really tried to live the idea of ‘The Superior One’; his matches were always the best, his pops and boos the loudest, his storylines the most compelling… everything he did, he made sure it was the best it could have been done. I don’t think there will be another like him in this business.” The grizzled veteran looks at the camera for a moment before the screen fills with images from the classic Magnificent Seven years, first the Chris Wilson version and then the Flesher-led Seven. "Tom's impact on the SWF was just something. It was something that had never been seen before, to be honest, and you know, it sort of pissed a lot of people off." The voice changes, becoming the unmistakable timbre of former world champion TNT, Taylor Nicholas Thompson! We fade in on him sitting on a similar stool looking earnestly into the camera. "Not too far into his career in the big leagues he replaced Chris Wilson as the leader of the Magnificent Seven, and it was the usual... people wanted to complain, and to rant on about how someone as new as Tom didn't deserve this and shouldn't be bumped up to so-and-so level this early... but I think everyone was just a little bit bitter because, well, he had enough talent to prove that he deserved everything that he got." The screen fills with shots of all those M7ers who went on to dominate the federation for so long, and in each shot the image of Flesher can be seen in the background... Frost. Danny Williams. TNT. Judge. Ejiro Fasaki. Sometimes the men are on the same side. Sometimes they are on opposite sides of the ring. Frequently they are both. But as the focus switches from those he fought with to those he fought against, one man stands apart. "There are no words to describe the kind of competitor Flesher was." The Mexican Sensation himself sits on the stool now, the one and only El Luchadore Magnifico! " Regardless of whether you loved him or hated him, you had no choice but to recognize his unmatched prowess in the ring. Tom Flesher took me to the limit every time I faced him, and I am proud to have called this man my rival." Images fill the screen of the epic contests between the two men. Flesher ekes out a win over the dominant Cruiserweight Champion! Magnifico spoils the King's Road for Flesher as he escapes with the World Championship! Magnifico looks straight into the camera as if Flesher were behind it. "Godspeed, Superior One." From Magnifico's smiling face we turn to a very familiar smirk indeed. Rivals of the past become rivals of the present as the camera homes in on the man who is so straight edge he just might cut you. He is your current SWF World Champion. He is Toxxic. "'The Superior One' Tom Flesher. Undoubtedly one of the most talented performers in our business today, or for that matter ever. A mat genius and excellent at working the crowd. A rightly-reknowned World Champion." Toxxic says all this seriously, with something that might be an inkling of a hint of admiration were this another man. "And one of my favourite people to have ever beaten cleanly in singles competition." Toxxic's grin widens at this one last chance to twist the knife... before nodding his head in a quick but genuine sign of respect. We fade into Hollywood Boulevard, Todd Cortez holding a microphone. "You know something, in this business, people can love you or hate you. Some people love Tom Flesher, and some people just loathe the man. However, no matter what side of the fence you're standing on, you have to respect what he's done. The titles, the controversy he's caused...when you're talking about a man who's done it all and then some, you're talking about Tom Flesher. When people come into the SWF, myself included, they look at the roster and Tom Flesher has always been the measuring stick. He's been the pinnacle of this company for a long time, and now it's time for someone else to step up and try to fill those shoes. We're not talking about an overnight sensation here...we're talking about a dominant individual, and one that the wrestling world is going to miss." Cortez passes the mic to Mike Van Siclen, who begins to speak himself. "Tom Flesher... Tom Flesher was a legend in my eyes, and I was lucky enough to step into the ring with him several times. I was the first person of many to lose a title to him, and he was the one who put me on the shelf for three months. In what appears to be our last match together, I got the win over him, and despite my record-breaking Tag championship reign, my SJL World championship win, I count the best moment in my career as the moment I heard the bell signaling that I beat Tom Flesher. So few people can say that they did that; that I can is a true achievement. Tom Flesher was one of the true greats in our federation, and Tom... it was a pleasure to share the ring with you." The present returns to the past one last time as we look upon the sometimes monstrous, but now serene countenance of one of Tom's most fearsome opponents. "Tom Flesher was the best wrestler I ever fought in this federation. I teamed with Fallout, I fought Erek Taylor, and I was even in a match with Edwin MacPhisto, but nobody ever challenged me like Tom Flesher did." The voice is unmistakable, even is the face weren't. The Boston Strangler, the man Flesher beat for his second World Title, has come to pay his respects. "I came back to the SWF to get the SWF Title away from him, and to get some belated revenge, but by the time I left the SWF, I had come to respect Tom Flesher. We fought each other so often, and so hard, that it was impossible not to be in awe of his skill. I may have lost the SWF Title to him, but if I had to lose the title, I'm glad I lost it to the best man I ever fought in the SWF. It won't be the same without you, Tom." The litany of champions continues in rapid fire succession, and this time the Secret Agent is at the altar! “Tom Flesher?” repeats Johnny, half smirking at the thought of the Superior One. “Well … he certainly was one cocky son of a bitch. The fact that he could back it up though – that’s what got my respect. And when you were in the ring with Tom, either on his side or facing against him, you knew you had to be at your best.” Johnny pauses just briefly and looks up at the cameras. “The legend of the Superior One will be a hard one for anyone to top.” The camera pans over a few feet to his left, before settling in on Johnny's former partner-in-crime and erstwhile tag buddy, the Wildchild! The Bahama Bomber nods in agreement. "ELM was de one who taught me dat a light-heavyweight could become a champion. Tom Flesher taught me dat a light-heavyweight could become a dominant champion. Flesher brought out de bes' in me an' everyone else he ever got in de ring wit'. He was like de dominant champions in other sports; everybody always brought dere 'A' game against him... an' he usually beat dem, anyway. Jus' bein' in de ring wit' him made people's careers, an' he helped make mine... Like de' song said, he is 'da man!" At Wildchild's prompting the background music of "Kashmir" switches to the frenetic beats of the Philosopher Kings' "I'm the Man." We see shots of Flesher's biggest wins interspersed with his greatest moments, moments that have shaped and defined the past two years for all SWF fans. Once the seizure-inducing sequence ends, the camera finds a man sitting in the stool who is certainly unaccustomed to singing anyone else's praises... "Tom Flesher, in my eyes, is simply the finest competitor to ever lace up a pair of boots. Period." Sitting in a sedate suit, the Suicide King looks genuinely into the camera. "This business needs bad guys the way fish need water. Without us, there is no conflict, no story, no reason to watch except for the most diehard of fans. Tom was the best bad guy we have ever had, present company included. And to top it all off, everytime he went out there the diehard fans couldn't help but love him as he wrestled circles around everyone." King looks into the camera. "The man was scary good. It was my one wish before he or I had to depart the SWF for different pastures that I got to be in the same ring with him. With or against, it didn't matter to me. Well, I got my wish and it is one of the highest honors of my career that I was able to participate in Tom's last match." King pauses for a moment before reaching up to clear his eyes. "The thought of an SWF without Tom Flesher frightens me a little, to be honest. I can only hope that all these people who were as inspired by him as I was have even half the ability, the desire, and the utter fearlessness to go out there and do some of what he did." King looks up at the camera, grinning. "But if you ever feel that huinger again Tom, you have my number. There are any number of jobs here that your keen wrestling mind would excel at." "We'll miss you." The camera switches again to the one man who just might understand. Someone else wrestled his last match at Genesis, albeit for different reasons. John Duran sits before us now. "Tom Flesher is one of the greatest to step into an SWF ring. His athleticism combined with his knowledge of all kinds of wrestling, whether professional or amateur, made him a force to be reckoned with. I must say that if there was one person I admired the most in this locker room full of losers, it'd be Tom Flesher." Duran grimaces at the thought of the men that he and Tom had to share space with. "If I could step in that ring again, I'd most certainly want it to be with Tom Flesher in my corner as a tag partner. He's set the standard for future SWF superstars who want to reach the pinnacle of this business, but I'm proud to say that there can never be another one quite like the Superior One." Injuries or life changes have forced many wrestlers to the sidelines here in the SWF. And of those who have come and gone before, no one knows that better than... "Big Tom...What can I say yo...Dat's my n**ga!" The Hville Thugg sits there in his own massive way, a gigantic grin lighting up his face. "We came up in difference eras of this fed, but I remember when he was comin' up, I was like...damn, he's gonna be big s**t. And, you can just look at his career and see what he did, and you can't help but be impressed. After I retired, I was always backstage and shit...doin' the road agent thing...and this man was always there workin' on shit, gettin' better...gettin' his game up. In the ring, you couldn't touch him...wit da mic, he was one of the best of his era. And no one ever minded gettin' their ass handed to them by him. Plain and simple yo, Tom Flesher is a bad mutha f***a!" HVT throws some sort of complicated urban handsign that probably means something. "You'll be missed my n**ga!" The video switches one last time, to a man who understands tributes perhaps more than anyone. "Over the last few days, I've put a lot of thought into what I'm going to say here tonight. I've scribbled literally pages of notes in between cities. Hell, I've recorded this twice already. I finally decided to keep it simple." "Grand Slam" Mark Stevens sits on the stool now, a very serious expression on his face. Maybe it's guilt at being partially responsible for Flesher's retirement. But that is neither here nor there! "There are three big parts to being a great wrestler. You have to be good in the ring and know how to put a match together. You have to be good on the mic and make the fans care about you or hate you. And you have to be a good guy backstage so the other boys will work with you and make your time at shows something more than just a day at the office. Tom has all three in spades. He's a true student of the sport and every single movement in the ring means something when Tom is involved." Stevens marks off the mental checklist of what makes a good wrestler before looking up at the camera with a smile. "I'm going to miss his attempts to convert me to puro. I'll miss my VIP access to his incredible backlog of wrestling tapes and DVDs while on the road. And I'll miss coming to the arena every day and not seeing Tom in the ring working on his match." Mark is silent for a moment. "I'm sure someone else will say it, but I'm going to anyways. From here on out, they will always talk about the 'Tom Flesher Era'. He really is the 'Superior One'. Congratulations kid, and enjoy your retirement." The image fades to black again, before filling with images of packed houses and roaring fans! Various announcers provide the soundtrack for this section as the screen fills with accomplishments and praises... "-in awe of his skill-" "-dominant champion-" "Tom Flesher has become your SJL European Champion!" "-'Tom Flesher' Era-" "-raw talent-" "-legend." "Flesher has done it! He is a TWO-TIME SJL World Champion!" "-utter fearlessness-" "-leader-" "Flesher has beaten Magnifico for the Light Heavyweight Championship!' "Flesher wins! He is the only man to have ever held the Light Heavyweight and Cruiserweight Championships!" "-bridge between generation-" "-the pinnacle of this business." "'da man!" "Tom and Frost are your new Tag Team Champions!" "-everything he did was the best." "-scary good." "He ties the record for most US Title reigns! Three, count 'em, three!" "-Superior." "Superior." "SUPERIOR." "'The Superior One' has beaten Perfect Bo and claimed the ICTV Championship for himself!" "-true student of the sport-" "-best bad guy ever." "Flesher wins! FLESHER WINS! Flesher has climbed the mountain and is now the SWF World Champion!" "-mat genius-" "finest competitor ever." "-the best." "-most talented-" "-best wrestler I ever fought-" "Strangler is down, and Tom Flesher has become a SWF World Champion for the SECOND TIME!" "-my friend." "-my rival." "-my enemy." "-my idol." "superior." "Superior." "SUPERIOR." The word echoes through the air. The camera focuses in on the scene that will forever define the end of this era. A pair of Doc Martens stand alone in the ring as a crowd pours out its respect for a man who gave them everything he had. "FLESH-ER!!! FLESH-ER!!! FLESH-ER!!! FLESH-ER!!!" Godspeed Tom. It's been an honor.

As SWF Storm returns from another promotional spot for Judge William Hearford’s day-time small claims court show, the Arrowhead Pond is plunged into complete darkness. An explosion of green pyro gives a reprieve from the gloom, and from behind the curtain steps Andrea Montgomery. “What on earth is she doing out here? She’s not scheduled to have a match!” Riley exclaims. “You dolt, Andrea Montgomery is most likely planning on informing us as to what Smartmarks Wrestling Federation championship belt or belts she wishes to make a challenge for,” Comet explains. “So? That doesn’t mean she should be out here, wasting my time. Can’t she just send Zenon an e-mail?” Riley questions. “You mean the same way that cabana boy broke up with you?” Comet replies. “No, that was an e-card,” Riley says. “Showed no emotion...” is all Riley manages to say before breaking down in tears. Andrea waves to the crowd, but remains on the stage, apparently waiting for something. That something of course being her music and an introduction. “Just a Girl” by No Doubt hits so Andrea figures one out of two isn’t bad and heads down the ramp, greeting fans on the way. “Ladies and gentlemen, ANDREA MONTGOMERY!” Funyon shouts, a bit flustered at having been caught napping. Andrea leaps onto the apron, grabs the top rope, and vaults into the ring. Drea turns around and makes a throat-slashing gesture, indicating to the people in the sound booth to cut her music, which they do. Andrea calls for a microphone, receives one from Funyon, and brings it to her lips. “Hello Anaheim!” Andrea pauses to allow the crowd to cheer their city before continuing. “I’ve never been the person to make long-winded speeches, and I’m not going to start tonight. My message is going to be as short as possible, because if you fine fans are anything like me, you’d much rather see wrestling than a monologue.” Andrea stops once more despite the crowd reaction not being overly loud. “I just want to briefly mention a man that I have a great deal of respect for. ‘The Barracuda’ Johnny Dangerous.” Now Andrea is forced to be quiet as the fans roar in approval of the former world champion. “Yes, I respect him on many levels. That respect I have for him makes what I’m about to say very difficult. As you all know, Johnny lost the world title to Toxxic.” TOXX-IC SUCKS! TOXX-IC SUCKS! TOXX-IC SUCKS! Andrea holds up a hand in an effort to quiet the crowd and continue on with her statement. “And as you know, I won a match at Genesis Five wherein I can challenge any champion for his belt, or champions for their belts.” Andrea stops once more as the fans cheer. “Now you might know why I said my respect for Johnny would make this so difficult for me to say. I believe that Johnny Dangerous deserves a rematch with Toxxic. After all, Toxxic got a rematch after Johnny beat him. But, I ask Johnny to wait to cash in that rematch, because I’m going to use my reward from Genesis Five to challenge Toxxic for the world title!” Andrea knows better to try and keep speaking with the crowd cheering, so she simply tosses the microphone back to Funyon, exits the ring, and heads back up the ramp. “What an announcement! Andrea Montgomery will challenge Toxxic for the world heavyweight championship!” Comet exclaims. “She could very well be the first female champion of the Smartmarks Wrestling Federation, a feat she nearly accomplished three years ago!” “Bah! She’s got no chance against the Straight-Edge Sensation. He’ll tear her to bits,” Riley states. “I don’t know. Toxxic used his speed to take the title away from Johnny Dangerous, and Andrea Montgomery is much quicker than Toxxic,” Comet points out. “No problem. Toxxic will just drop Andrea on her head a few dozen times and then we’ll see how much quickness accounts for,” Riley says. The crowd is still buzzing over Andrea’s announcement as SWF Storm once again fades to a commercial for Mitosa. Provides a long-lasting eleven day erection. Warning: May cause bleeding, detachment of penis, enlarged heart, projectile defecation, loss of motor function, swollen eyes, testicular rot, death, or upset stomach.

"Hey, this is Nathaniel and you’ve reached my voicemail. Leave me a message and I’ll get back to you whenever I have the chance. Thanks.” *Beep.* “NTD, where are you man?” The sound of Austin Sly’s voice floods out. He sounds anxious, but calm at the same time. “I know you’re on a vacation and you’ve got that whole honeymoon thing going for you, but I really need some advice. I’ve left you five messages in the fast few days, and I’m beginning to think that you’re ignoring me. Give me a call back as soon as you get this. Later.” Austin slowly lowers his cell phone from his ear before flipping it closed and shoving it down into his pocket. He exhales heavily while running his right hand back through his poorly dyed hair. His body language shows despair. Clap... clap... clap... The sudden noise breaks the serene silence of the scene, shocking Austin, who had believed he was alone, and causes him to turn on his heels defensively. The alarmed look on his face quickly fades away, only to be replaced by an angry sneer showing that he’s obviously less than amused by his new-found audience. He goes to speak, but he’s too slow. “Do you miss your man, Austin?” Danny Dagda’s Jersey antagonizing voice spews out. He forges a look of sadness and traces a tear falling from his eye. “What could possibly be so important that you’d need to interrupt a man on his very own honeymoon? You know NTD never liked pants before, and on a honeymoon…” Dagda begins but Sly cuts him off. Danny stops and cocks his head to the side with full attention while fishing out a cigarette. “My business is just that, my business. I don’t see why it’s any of your worry what I do with my own time, Dagda. You don’t have any ties to me or NTD,” Sly bites back. “But I’m just such a loving and caring guy, Sly,” Danny pauses and brings a cigarette to his lips. “Ha, I’ve made a rhyme. See I’m the ‘Good God’; I’m just perfect at everything. I can hop scotch to out box you.” Danny pauses and then reconsiders. “Or maybe I’m just getting some demented amusement from this… you know, like when you get entertained by car wrecks. That sort of thing,” He says as he lights the cigarette. With a shrug he inhales and blows it directly at Austin’s face not getting quite the reaction he’d hope for. “You want some entertainment?” Austin smirks to himself before continuing, “how about this, Dagda. I find it very entertaining that you’re almost an exact carbon copy of me when I first entered the SWF so many months ago. Cocky, egotistical, rude. All qualities that we would share if I hadn’t changed. How’s that sit with you?” Danny pauses and stares for a second. Then with a big grin he takes out the cigarette and bitterly rebuttals, “Please, stop, I’ll blush. I much rather take briberies than flatteries. For the record,” Danny says as if he’s getting bored, flicking his Zippo lighter. “I’m not trying to flatter you, Dagda. I would like you to consider this as more of a warning than anything. Keep acting like you’re the center of the world and someone will come along and smack that stupid little vision of yourself right out of your head,” Austin calmly states. Daniel Dagda stares right into Sly’s eyes before pausing. He lets the cigarette drop from his mouth and he puts it out. “Now enlighten me, Sly, who might that someone be? You...? Because I’d have to say you have more of an ego than Francis and Flesher’s lovechild if you think you can even touch me. I’m a prodigy, you’re a deadbeat, I’m the uprising star, and you are the falling star.” He makes a fist and reenacts his right fist rising and left fist plummeting. He steps closer to Sly for intimidation but it’s not successful. “Now are you going to shatter my ‘little vision’ out of my head or are you going to just sit there and bark?” He asks while his temper begins to waiver. “I never said I was going to, but I know I sure as hell can be the one,” Sly says as he boldly steps forwards and shoulder bumps into Dagda before walking away. “Better run and hide, Austy, because you’re going to get a colossal crash course in reality of superiority!” Danny pauses and chuckles. “I made more rhymes, damn I am good! Now where’s Levy hitting his bong because I could learn how to make couplets…” He takes the cheap shot as he walks away. -Fade-

"I don't take pleasure in ending people's careers..." "I'm not some demented freak..." "RAGE UNLEASHED! MY GOD, THE RAGE UNLEASHED!" "Disgruntled veteran..." "NOOOO...DEMONSTAR DRIVEEEERRR!!!" "Or obsessive champion..." "Not the...the... DAAAANGERLUST!!!" "No...I'm Landon Maddix." The face of the current SWF Intercontinental Television Champion (Yeah, I do still have it, remember. I mean...I didn't defend it at the biggest show of the year, but I am still champion. Mmm-hmm.) Landon Maddix appears in shot, and on the SmarkTron in the arena to cheers from the crowd. "I'm not any of those things and never professed to be. Well, except maybe obsessive champion. But, those days are over. I'm just...regular, plain ol' me. Landon Maddix. A little kid from the country, born and raised in a little place in South Dakota. Yet...it appears I've assembled myself a little 'rep' around this parts, amongst the roster, in the locker-room, amongst the staff and with the fans. The past never really goes away it seems. And, I think it's about time some thing got cleared up." Pause and a smile. "This reputation didn't just come from nowhere. I've done some rough things in my time with the JL and here in the SWF, I know that. Hey, believe it or not, when I first arrived in the JL people loved me. And not the 'you people love me, you just don't know it yet' crap I've been spewing in the past. I was what those in the know have deemed a fan favorite. I came into the company with a bang, beat Todd Royal and did some goofy stuff with baguettes and pies that I'd rather not go into right about now. All that though was before I started losing. I was young. I was naive. And I'll be damned if I didn't think losing a wrestling match was the end of the world as I knew it. I guess that's what winning your first 8 professional matches in a row. An ego, I think they call it. So, here I was, stuck in a rut. And along comes Todd Royal. I needed some sort of a boost, he provided. Naive little me, I grabbed onto his coattails like a baby grabbing on it's mother's teet and I clinged on with all I had." Stopping again, Maddix shakes his head with another wry chuckle as he re-takes in what he's talking about. "He gave me a pick-up. Suddenly, things were looking a bit more positive and before long the JL European and World Titles were mine. I'm not exactly proud of trying to blind Alan Clark, or the things I did to other JL wrestlers. But, at the time, winning was all that mattered. Then came the SWF and then came The Unnamed. Oh, and once they'd all gone, I had Chris Card approaching me looking to become my manager. And yes, I was still naive and yes I took the money." Maddix sighs. "So here I am now. Do I regret some of the things I've done? Oh yeah. I haven't even scratched the depths here of some things I've pulled in the past. And yet, I go out into the arenas...and you people are cheering me?" "YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!" "It's ironic really. See...yeah, I regret some things I've done. Who doesn't? I'm still a young kid though. And believe me...although a lot of my mis-conceptions are being altered, I haven't changed. I don't loath the fans anymore. But rest assured...I'm not going to be walking to the ring doing the conga, kissing babies and putting items of my clothing on children. I'm still...the same Landon Maddix. The same little ol' kid from the country. The same kid who has developed somewhat of a dependancy on other people when I'm out in the ring or backstage. I'm still the same kid who finds winning of the upmost importance. I'm still going to jab someone in the eye if I don't like the look on their face. Don't get me wrong, you people cheering me isn't going to make me go soft. I haven't changed. I'm still...Landon Maddix." With a smile, Landon stands up and begins to walk across his dressing room, the camera following him as he strolls over to a small leather sofa and slumps in to it, turning on the T.V as he does so. "With that out of the way...back to my original point. I didn't drag those clips up for nothing. I have a point to make. Yes, I'm still the same Landon Maddix. But I have never gone out into a wrestling ring with the intention of ruining or killing someone's career. I've been on the recieving end, believe me. Aecas knows that. But I've never set out to seriously force someone into retirement. Which is why it's such a surprise...that I'm actual happy that I've ended someone's career. Tom Flesher's." With little more than a flicker of emotion, Maddix reaches for the remote on the arm of the sofa...little more than a second before Megan Skye strolls over and steals it away. Maddix sighs, and then turns back to the camera. "Tom Flesher. He's gone. It's crazy to think that little more than a month ago I idolised Flesher. We were tag team partners, just as when he returned we were tag team opponents. Either way, I always had great respect for him. Until...he sided with The Suicide King. With that one, swift move I lost a lot of respect for him. And now I can plainly say I'm glad to see the back of him. And I'm glad that I was the one to put him into retirement. Not...not, in a grudging way. Oh no. I hold no grudge with him. But, I am glad that I put him into retirement because now the skittles are slowly falling. One...by one." Smiling, Maddix holds up all five fingers (well, four fingers and one thumb for all you scientists out there) on his right hand. "Alan Clark...DOWN! He won our last match, sure. But where is he now? At home." Down goes the thumb. "Chris Card...DOWN! He got one over on me, but I got the last shot in. And now where is he? At home." Index finger. "Johnny Dangerous...DOWN! Oh, he's still around. But he's not the World Champion anymore." Middle finger. "Tom Flesher...DOWN! I pinned his ass, and where is he now? At home." The...ring finger? "The Suicide King...DOWN! He said I wasn't worthy of the main event position I wanted. Until, of course, I pinned his golden boy and in the process got a win over King himself. And where is King now? You guessed it...at home, trying to think up some new scheme." Finally, down goes Maddix's little finger, leaving his fist balled up and pointing threateningly at the camera to emphasis his point. "So...what does that leave? Oh, you've guessed it... ...Toxxic!" Maddix spits out the name of the new SWF World Heavyweight Champion angrily, taking his fist back down to his side. "Sure, I'm predictable. 'Quick, Genesis is over. Challenge the new World Champion'. Toxxic, this isn't just about you. This isn't just about me wanting that title belt. This is about me proving to King, to my doubters and to the world that I can be an SWF World Heavyweight Champion to be proud of. I'm not just coming out here because I want a shiny belt...I already have one of those, I'm the ICTV Champion. No, I'm just sending you a message Toxxic. It may not be this week, it may not be this month. Hell, knowing King, I may even have to wait until Clusterfuck to even get a shot at the number one contendership. But Toxxic...I am after you. Sooner or later, something's going to break for me. Sooner or later King won't be able to deny me any longer. And then Toxxic... ...'strike'." With a chuckle, Maddix sighs and turns back to his T.V monitor nochalantly as the camera feed fades slowly out to black.

“The following broadcast may contain swearing, partial nudity and strobe lighting. It will certainly contain violence. It’s wrestling, what do you fucking expect?” FIVE... FOUR... THREE... TWO... ONE... SWF STORM IS ON!!! *BAM! BAM! BAM! BU-BU-BU-BU-BU BOOOOOOOOMMMM!!* “WELCOME GOOD CITIZENS, TO S...W...F... STOOOORRRRMMMMM!!” The fans packed into the Arrowhead Pond in Anaheim, California go absolutely wild as the lights come up, the pyros go off and the cameras go panning around the arena to focus on them in all their rabid glory! They scream, they shout and they hold signs high in the air, signs with messages such as ‘OMGZ FLESHER COME BACK!!’, ‘DAVID’S CROSS!!’ and several proclaiming ‘CARN-I-VAL!!’. “We’re in Anaheim, California,” Cyclone Comet yells above the noise, “and we are LIVE as we bring you the biggest after-show party in SWF history! Last Sunday at Genesis V the whole direction of the fed changed-” “-and jubilation and sorrow go hand-in-hand!” Bobby Riley cuts him off, visibly tearful. “Comet, I hope you realise what a sad day this is. Tom Flesher... has retired.” “Indeed Robert, you are correct,” the superhero says, for once sensitively not jibing his commentary partner about his attachment to the wrestling legend. “Tom Flesher, possibly the greatest match technician ever seen in the SWF, has retired after that mind-blowing 6-man tag match that saw the team of ‘Grand Slam’ Mark Stevens, Landon ‘La Cucuracha’ Maddix and Edwin MacPhisto - yes, I said EDWIN MACPHISTO! - defeat Flesher and his compatriots Chris Raynor and the Suicide King!” “It’s a sad, sad loss,” Riley sniffs, for once speaking the truth. “To think that after all this time, after all he and I have been through... still,” he continues, brightening up a little, “I suppose there is the fact that we have a NEW WORLD CHAMPION to console me a bit!” “Sadly true as well,” Comet sighs. “For those cheapskate Citizens who did not shell out for the Pay-Per-View I must regretfully inform you that Johnny Dangerous’ run at the top was short-lived, and it is my unpleasant duty to inform you for the second post-PPV Storm running that the new World Heavyweight Champion is-” -but Comet is cut off as the entire Smarktron whites out and all the lights in the arena hit ‘full’. For a moment there is only the faint sound of a needle scratching gently over vinyl. Then: ‘WEL-WEL-W-W-WELCOME TO THE REVOLUTION!!’ The crashing guitars of ‘Battle Ready’ by Otep kick up immediately and the mood in the Arrowhead Bowl turns hostile in half a second. The words hang heavy on the white screen for a couple more seconds as the California fans start to boo, then the screen starts to flicker and Revolution Zero’s slogan is replaced by images of its members dealing out merry hell on a democratic basis to the rest of the fed. *BOOOOOM!!* As the drums pick up and the bass kicks in lightning seems to spear down from the arena roof, striking the sound stage and causing red and gold pyros to shoot up creating yet more smoke in the already hazy atmosphere. “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” And through the noise and the smoke... “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” ...with smiles on their faces and gold around their waists... “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” ...comes Revolution Zero. “Ladies and gentlemen,” Funyon booms, “making their way to the ring at this time, accompanied by Jet and Marcus Washington; the SWF Hardcore Gamer’s Champion AND one-half of the NEW SWF Tag Team Champions ‘The Perfect Storm’ Sean Davis, his tag team partner and NEW Tag Team Champion ‘Hollywood’ Spike Jenkins and the NEW SWF WORLD... HEAVYWEIGHT... CHAMPION, the ‘Straight-Edge Sensation’ Toxxic. Together, they are... RRRRREEEVVVVOLUUUUUUUTIIIIOOOOONNNN... ZEEEEERRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOO!!” “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” The volume in the Arrowhead Pond is overwhelming, the hostility so thick you could cut it. Jet and Marcus Washington speed ahead of the three competitors like scouts ahead of a conquering army - and tonight, that is a good a comparison as any for Revolution Zero - but Sean, Spike and Toxxic are unhurried. They put all the effort in on Sunday; tonight they can afford to relax a little. Spike is grinning like a loon and acknowledging all the pretty ladies in the crowd, whether or not they smile back. The faint hint of a smile even touches Sean Davis’ usually stern countenance as the big man climbs into the ring, the ropes held open for him by a beaming Marcus Washington. Toxxic just looks around at the hate-filled faces on all sides and a malicious, knowing lopsided grin creases his face as he rolls into the squared circle. “Here they are,” Riley says with some excitement as Spike finally catches up with the others, “the new force in the SWF has really arrived now, Comet! Just look at all that gold!” Sure enough, Spike Sean and Toxxic stand back-to-back in a rough triangle shape in the middle of the ring, each holding a belt (or one in each hand, in Sean’s case). The chanting and heckling continues for a couple of seconds as they stand motionless - then, as one, they each raise their hands to the skies and proudly display the fruits of their labours as the camera flashes go off on all sides! SWF Hardcore Gamer’s Championship SWF Tag Team Championships SWF World Heavyweight Championship. “Oh, Zeus have mercy,” Comet groans as Revolution Zero continue to pose in the ring, “will someone please do something about this?” Someone does, although not the someone the masked superhero would have wanted. Toxxic finally lowers his belt and approaches Funyon to request a microphone, which the veteran ring announcer gives up to him. “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “Y’know, if I suck then what does that make Johnny Dangerous?” the straight-edger asks, looking around at the California fans. “JOHN-NY!” “JOHN-NY!” “Sure, chant all you want,” Toxxic continues, slinging the belt over his shoulder, “it won’t change anything. Let’s just get this straight though - even though you people don’t like us, you should at least respect Sean and Spike for pulling two wins out of three matches at Genesis. Sean not only defended that Hardcore Gamer’s Championship, but together they ended the run of the longest-reigning tag champs ever to dethrone Hollywood Boulevard!” “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “YOU ALL SUCK!” “YOU ALL SUCK!” The chants wash over Sean and Spike, but the pair couldn’t seem to care less. They have their titles, and they know that whatever the fans in Anaheim think they did what no-one has ever done before at Genesis. “Now,” Toxxic carries on, “I’ve heard some people suggesting that I may have gifted Johnny his brief title run simply so I could destroy him on the rematch, thereby ruining his confidence and any hope he may have had of cementing himself at main event status. Some people think I put the Open Challenge out there in the knowledge that our resident James Bond impersonator would jump at the chance. These people think that I didn’t want to give Johnny a run at the World Title at his own pace, but sucker him in and then knock him back down. “To these people I say... get a damn grip, morons.” “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “Johnny, I wasn’t playing games with you,” the Straight-Edge Sensation says, turning his attention to the back. “You did beat me fair and square the first time, even if you didn’t have to do anything to get the match but walk down that aisle and waste some oxygen. But the key to surviving at the top is consistency, and that’s something Genesis proved you just don’t have.” “What a character assassination!” Comet splutters. “Johnny Dangerous is one of the most reliable competitors this federation has, and for Toxxic to suggest that one loss cancels his record out is sheer sacrilege!” “If you ever want another run at this belt Johnny - well, I’ll be waiting,” Toxxic tells the absent Secret Agent. “I don’t think you’re first in line anymore though. I know that one wrestler in particular won herself a title shot at any belt she chooses, and to Andrea Montgomery I say - choose the World Title if you dare.” “DR-EA!” *clap-clap-clap* “DR-EA!” *clap-clap-clap* “Hah! As if she would!” Riley snorts. “I suppose Landon Maddix is going to fancy himself with this belt now he’s finished fiddling around with the old folks,” the straight-edger continues. “Mind you, I’ve got a little score to settle with him myself stemming from that time he decided that Mark Stevens wouldn’t benefit from a little head percussion with a steel chair - don’t be shy now Landon, because if you come near this belt then I’ll make you wish you were back home eating your mother’s lemon pie.” “LAN-DON!” *clap-clap-clap* “LAN-DON!” *clap-clap-clap* “It’s a time of opportunity,” Toxxic says, grinning lopsidedly into the camera. “We’re undergoing a period of change. All the old guns are dropping away. We’ve lost Flesher, we’ve lost John Duran, we’ve lost Janus, Danny Williams, Charlie Matthews is gone for good apparently...” the Straight-Edge Sensation stops for a second and his smile widens, “...hell, even My Personal Bitch known as Dace Night seems to have disappeared!” “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “HOR-ROR-CORE!” “HOR-ROR-CORE!” “Think about it everyone,” the now straight-faced straight-edger tells the roster, the fans and the world in general. “The old strata has gone. This is a chance like never before to forge yourself a new destiny. People are going to look back on this era in the SWF and see that this was when the Revolution got into full swing,” he gestures to Sean and Spike, “but each and every one of you has a chance to make a name for yourself whether you are with us or against us. “Just remember one thing,” the World Champion concludes, patting his belt. “The closer to you get to the top, the closer you get to this, that’s the closer you get to me. I’ll be waiting for you, and if you don’t think I’ll be ready...” The lopsided grin reappears as Toxxic stares into the camera, dark-rimmed steel-grey eyes seeming to bore into the lens. “... Prepare To Be Proved Wrong!” FADE OUT

Guess who now has free nationwide long distance?

The Smartmarks wrestling Federation presents... SWF LOCKDOWN, WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 8TH (GUILTY GEAR X2#RELOAD DAY!), LIVE FROM THE GUND ARENA IN CLEVELAND, OHIO! (5:00pm PCT, 8:00pm EST; check local listings) Send marked matches, promos, etc. to 5_moves_of_doom Opening Promo: Ace Lezaire PRE-GENESIS 6-MAN ELIMINATION MATCH Toxxic, “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins, & Ace Lezaire vs David Cross, Manson, & Dace Night With Genesis just around the corner, big matches are sure to happen on a special Sunday. But why can’t they happen now? Here’s one that will send the crowd home happy. Unless Spike wins and they get pissed and throw garbage. Just kidding Spike. You know I love you. Rules: DQ and countout apply. Survivor Series rules, tags and eliminations and all that. Word Limit: 7000 Send To: Suicide King ICTV TITLE REMATCH The Masked Man vs Landon “La Cucaracha” Maddix© This match is happening again, due to a lot of fourth wall stuff that telling you here would break the illusion that we’re all not really wrestlers. Rules: Singles match, DQ and countout apply. Word Limit: 6000 Send To: realitycheck MUTHA’ ****’N OLD SCHOOL MATCH Jamie Drazon vs “Grand Slam” Mark Stevens AWWWWW YEEEAAA, We kickin’ it old school up in this Geezy (Gund) fo’ sheezy with two people that knew how to rock it and roll it and they ain’t got to poll it to know it. Rules: Singles match, DQ and countout apply. Word Limit: 5500 Send To: chirs3 CRUSIERWEIGHT MATCH The Birdman vs Tom Flesher With Ryan Dustin On Commentary Ryan Dustin will join our dynamic duo and call this match. But will he be able to stay in his seat, or take an opportunity to soften the champion up? Rules: Singles match, DQ and countout apply. Dustin may write a match if he feels like it. Word Limit: 5000 Send To: chirs3 SUBMISSIONS MATCH “The Icon” Max King vs Todd Cortez Max King tunes up the band in preparation for Genesis, and he goes one on one with the Urban Legend. Rules: Submissionly only, no pinfalls. Word Limit: 5000 Send To: Suicide King SINGLES MATCH Mike Van Siclen vs Sean Davis This match was cancelled on Storm due to inclement weather. ...yeah. Let’s try it again. Rules: Singles match, DQ and countout apply. Word Limit: 4500 Send To: Thoth HARDCORE #1 CONTENDERSHIP MATCH Austin Sly vs Candace These two will face off in a hardcore match for a shot at that sweet title we used to call the Hardcore Gamer’s Championship, which was cool because I’M A HARDCORE GAMER, BABY. Rules: None, really Word Limit: 4500 Send To: realitycheck PLEASE WRITE A MATCH Bryan Levy vs Munich Please please please. Rules: Singles match, DQ and countout apply. Word Limit: 3500 Send To: Thoth

Yeah, I am an IDIOT.

I KNOW, exactly. I'm almost a year older than the kid.

I wanted to book something like that, but I had other booking requirements that prevented that. Remember the time the WWA had Jeff Jarrett, versus Randy Savage, but Macho pulled out at the last second, so they had Grandmaster Sexay come in instead? Yeah, make it work.

I'm playing it... RULE RULE RULE IT RULES OMG

The Storm has blown over, the show has ended and Alex Zenon, beleagered Commissioner of the Smartmarks Wrestling Federation, sits quietly behind a battered wooden desk signing off on the last few pieces of paperwork he has to take care of before he can leave the arena. Suddenly, his door opens and a large man shambles into the room and drops into the one chair in front of the desk. His face is a wreck. His left eye is swollen and blackened and there is a cut that is seeping blood on the outside of the orbit. His nose is swollen and bruised and there is dried blood caked in his moustache and goatee. His lip is swollen and cut and his forehead has a fresh bandage on it, pinpricks of blood starting to soak through. Through all of that, Z still recognizes the man. he is "Grand Slam" Mark Stevens, former Commissioner and fellow Carnie. Z: Mark... are you... GSMS: Ok? No Zed, no I'm not. I've been getting my ass handed to me for the better part of a month now thanks to King. Tonight was just the topper on the cake. Z: I already said I'm sorry. I wish I could take it back. GSMS: I know Z. You said that before, and I believed you then, and I believe you know. But there was something else you said... you said that you'd make it right. So now I'm asking... no, forget that... Alex Zenon, I am begging you to make it right. Z: What can I do Mark? My hands are tied, you know that. I may be Commissioner, but King is still my boss. GSMS: You have to play his game, play to his ego. You want to make this right Z? Z: You know I do. GSMS: Then listen to me. This is what I want... Fade out to the SWF Logo...

HERE WE GO!! SWF STORM IS LIVE AND BREWING!!! BADA-BOOM! BADA-BOOM BADA-BOOM-BOOM-BOOOOOOOOM!!!! BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!!!!! “Welcome, Citizens, one and all!” bellows the voice of the masked announcer, as the cameras pan over the sea of fans in attendance. Many of the fans have brought their signs displaying their love or hate for certain SWF Superstars, and while most of them flat out suck, a few catch the cameraman’s eye. “Flesher 2020”, “Spike carries Revolution Zero”, and a huge section dedicated solely to hometown hero Judge William Hearford. We are coming at you LIVE from the SOLD-OUT Joe Louis Arena, in the heart of Sooner Nation, and you are watching SWF LOCKDOOOOOWN! We have a stacked show waiting for all of you true believers, and bringing you all this exciting action will be me alongside my broadcast partner, Bobby Riley, and I am-” “-Oh God, not this…” “CYCLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONE COMET~!” BOOM! A final pyro rockets to the stratosphere and explodes, punctuating the masked announcer’s battle cry! “Jesus, I think it’s time I renegotiated my contract for some of that pyro,” mutters Riley. “That’s twice now that you got some!” “I get some every night, fair Citizen!” replies Comet, with a wide-toothed grin. “Anyway, you’ll want to be careful not to blink tonight as we have a very stacked, pulse-pounding, exciting filled show! Kicking it off tonight will be one of my new personal favorites-” “PREPARE TO BE PROVED WRONG!” Those familiar words burn across the Smarktron as “Rookie” by Boy Set’s Fire begins to pound from the speakers… “HA!” cackles Bobby. “How’d you like that timing, Comet!” “…Shut up, Heathen!” In almost record time for an entrance, Toxxic strolls out from backstage rather briskly. It’s obvious that he has something highly important to get off his chest tonight, and he hasn’t the time to waste! Nonetheless, message or not, the crowds boo with zeal~! Insults along with a few balled up popcorn bags are hurled towards the Straight-Edge Sensation, but not a single one hits. “Ladies and gentlemen,” bellows Funyon, “please welcome to the ring at this time; the “Straihgt-Edge Sensation”… TOOOOXXIIIIIC!!” “Pfft… Weclome,” grumbles Comet, obviously not glad to see the Straight-Edger as Toxxic slides into the ring and motions for Funyon’s microphone. The announcer complies, not wanting to see what a Caffeine Bomb is all about then scurries from the ring. Toxxic raises the microphone to his lips, ready to deliver his thoughts. “Well,” he begins, but before he can get much further the crowd fires up a chant: “TOXX-IC SUCKS! TOXX-IC SUCKS! TOXX-IC SUCKS! TOXX-IC SUCKS!” The Straight-Edger scoffs at these fans obvious ignorance, noting the section of Judge Mental devotees as further proof. “So, like I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted-” “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!” “Not much love from the fans of Detroit Rock City,” notes Comet. “It’s morons like you that encourage this kind of behavior!” snaps Bobby. “…and you call yourself a hero! Pshaw!” “The hell with it,” spits Toxxic, not in the mood to deal with these dim-wits tonight. “There is just one man I have something to say to right now, and that man is Johnny Dangerous.” “RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!” “JOHN-EE! JOHN-EE! JOHN-EE!” “Oh, shut up,” the Straight-Edge Sensation tells the Detroit fans, although without much rancour. “Johnny, “ he continues, “no doubt you’ve watched Smarkdown now and seen my involvement in your match. And right now you’re probably sitting backstage with your James Bond wristwatch, and your decoder set, and some invisible ink pen you got free in a packet of Cookie Crisp, and you want an explanation. Well, I think my actions need an explanation, so I’ll be only too pleased to give it to you.” “Toxxic is sounding reasonable, for him,” Cyclone Comet tells the viewers at home. “Enjoy it while it lasts.” “You see Johnny, I’d love to believe that you could go into a Hell In a Cell and beat Jamie Drazon. It would have made my life so much easier,” the straight-edger informs the Barracuda.. “But sadly, I couldn’t trust you to do that much. I knew, just as everyone here did, that it was too tall an order for you.” “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “Drazon’s an animal, Johnny,” Toxxic explains. “You might have stalled him for a while, but in that environment he was always going to rip you apart. The trouble is, I can’t allow that to happen while you hold my belt, because then it goes out of the loop. You beat me, I acknowledge that, but now I need to get my chance to beat you back. You didn’t earn your match, I gave you that title shot for free, sunshine. Now I’ve eliminated the current competition and given you the chance to do the right thing; give me the rematch I deserve.” “He only speaks the truth,” Riley says to his commentary partner. “A twisted version of it, perhaps,” Comet replies darkly. ‘JOHNNY DANGEROUS!’ “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “And now the World Champion is here!” Comet cries in delight as ‘After The Flesh’ starts to pump out of the speakers. “We’ll soon see what Agent Dangerous has to say about this!” Johnny strides out onto the entrance stage with his trenchcoat flying behind him. The Barracuda is backlit by the strobes, but he has no time for posing or playing to the fans tonight. Instead he marches down the ramp, already raising a microphone to his lips. “Toxxic, that mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble one of these days,” Dangerous tells the Straight-Edge Sensation as he gets to the ring. “In fact, it already has!” “YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “JOHN-EE! JOHN-EE! JOHN-EE!” The leader of Revolution Zero looks unimpressed with Johnny’s words, but the World Champion strips his trenchcoat off and unclips the SWF World Heavyweight Title from around his waist to hold it up in front of Toxxic’s face. “See this? This says I am the best wrestler in this federation. I am your World Champion, dammit, and I am not going to put up with anymore of your superior bullshit!” “You lost to Landon,” is Toxxic’s simple response. “Have you beaten Landon?” “I haven’t faced Landon. I was busy competing against main event talent.” Johnny cracks a brief smile at that - his recent altercations with La Cucuracha haven’t left him kindly disposed to the man from Huron - but he quickly regains his purpose. “Like it or not Toxxic, I beat you,” he tells the Straight-Edge Sensation, jabbing a finger at him, “and I want to know what in the hell makes you think that you deserve a rematch after all the garbage you talked beforehand.” “I knew I couldn’t trust you,” Toxxic smirks. “I knew you wouldn’t do the right thing and put the belt on the line against the man who gave you a free handout. Just like I couldn’t trust you in Hell In a Cell.” The smile disappears suddenly, and it’s Toxxic’s turn to jab a finger into Johnny’s chest. “Just like Wildchild couldn’t trust you when you were Wild & Dangerous. He carried you to those tag belts, but he couldn’t trust you to save him from Janus’ Hell Crush. He couldn’t trust you to save him from me, when I made him submit to win the ICTV Title back in the Tag Match From Hell. And he couldn’t trust you to save him when Mike Van Siclen broke his shoulder.” “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “Yeah, come on, boo your arses off!” Toxxic yells at the Detroit crowd. “That’s the guy you were cheering on Monday when Revolution Zero was whipping his team all over the ring! Christ, you people have short memories.” He turns his attention back to the seething Johnny Dangerous. “Johnny, I can’t trust you, these people can’t trust you, and Wildchild couldn’t trust you. You’re a bloody disgrace, a fluke and an embarrassment to the title.” The crowd noise is rising in the Joe Louis Arena, but Toxxic ignores it. “So if you’re going to chicken out and walk away in some desperate attempt to avoid losing your title, then please hurry up and do it because you’re wasting everyone’s time.” “Toxxic, have you ever heard the phrase ‘be careful what you wish for’?” Johnny asks the straight-edger. “But I know what you’re up to; you’re trying to make me angry so I’ll say you can have a rematch for this belt at Genesis. Well, I’ve got news for you - it’s not going to happen.” “He’s a coward!” Riley shouts as the Joe Louis Arena starts to buzz in surprise. “He’s scared to face Toxxic again!” “It’s not going to happen…” Johnny continues “…because I don’t need to be angry to give you a title shot, Toxxic! I beat you for this belt fair and square, in the middle of the ring! I know that you’re a good competitor, but don’t flatter yourself into thinking that I have any worries about facing you again with the title on the line!” “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “JOHN-EE! JOHN-EE! JOHN-EE!” “Then you’re saying that it’s me and you at Genesis?” Toxxic queries, his brow raised. “Johnny Dangerous versus Toxxic; the Barracuda versus the Straight-Edge Sensation for the World Heavyweight Title?” “That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Johnny replies levelly, “and once we’re there I’ll do what you couldn’t do - defend the title twice in a row.” The Barracuda smiles at Toxxic, convinced that he’s scored a point, but Toxxic is having none of it. “Well, I’ve got news for you sunshine,” the Straight-Edge Sensation fires back. “No world champion has successfully defended the belt on Pay-Per-View since Genesis IV. So the odds are in my favour - as if I needed any help.” “But guess what?” Johnny retorts. “It’s Genesis again, the biggest show of the year! Lightning can… and will strike twice, because at Genesis I will prove to you once again that I am for real and I… am better… than you!” “Johnny, the last person to retain that belt on Pay-Per-View was Tom Flesher,” Toxxic tells the Barracuda, “and you are no Tom Flesher. And even if you were, I beat Tom Flesher!” “And I beat you to win the title,” Johnny says calmly. “Did you have a point?” “Yeah, I’ve got a point,” Toxxic tells the man from Las Vegas. “…prepare to be proved wrong!” *CRAAACK!* “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!” “The villain!” Comet shouts in outrage. “Toxxic just super kicked Johnny Dangerous! What a sucker-punch from that despicable scoundrel!” “It was a super kick, not a sucker-punch,” Riley admonishes his broadcast partner as Toxxic leaves the ring smirking while he walks up the entrance ramp, “and it’s no different to what Johnny Dangerous did to Toxxic a few weeks ago when the roles were reversed!” “Robert, sometimes I despair of you-” “-only sometimes?” “-but nonetheless Citizens, we must continue with the broadcast,” Comet carries on as Johnny sits up in the ring, rubbing his jaw and staring after the departed Straight-Edger with venom. “It sounds like it’s official that Toxxic and Johnny Dangerous will be competing for the World Title at Genesis V, but we have an amazing card this evening as well and it will begin right after this commercial break!” FADE OUT

Toxxic delivers yet another stomp to the prone form of Grand Slam. Finally, after a good set of rib stomps, he winds up and delivers a hard toe kick right to the ribs of the Heavy Hitter. Comet: This isn't right! After the match these two had, it shouldn't end like this! Riley: The heck you say! This is exactly the right way to end it! Grand Slam needs to learn a lesson, and Toxxic is just the guy to teach it! Toxxic bends over and says something to Grand Slam, then stands up and makes a wiping motion with his hands as if to say "Lesson learned, and I wash my hands of it." The Straight Edge Sensation then turns and heads to the ropes, to bask once more in the hatred of the fans. Behind him, Grand Slam is crawling, dragging himself to the side of the ring. Once there, he motions towards the timekeeper's table. Funyon, eternally abused by ninety percent of the wrestlers here, nods his head, stands up and slides his chair into the ring to the Heavy Hitter! Riley: What the hell is he doing Comet? Funyon shouldn't help anyone! Comet: In the service of Justice, Funyon will help his friends! Grand Slam is one of the few guys here to treat our erstwhile ring announcer as more than a mike stand or a ring accessory! Riley: Two do-gooders helping each other cheat... what a message to send to the youth of today! Grand Slam uses the ropes and the chair to push himself slowly to his feet. Once there, he starts the long walk across the ring towards Toxxic, who is still standing on the second turnbuckle, arms out, palms flat, head hung low in one of his patented taunts of the crowd. On the outside though, the oft-neglected Jet is paying attention. In her crisp, clean voice, she yells out to Toxxic, causing him to turn just as Grand Slam gets within striking distance! Toxxic doesn't waste movement at all. In one fluid motion, he leaps off the ropes, twists in the air and delivers a hard, crushing blow with both feet to the chair, causing it to ricochet back into Mark Stevens' face! Riley: CLANG!! My God! I have been waiting for years to do that! Comet: Grand Slam is in bad shape Robert... that chair caught him flush on the face! The aforementioned chair flies out of Grand Slam's hands and lands outside the ring. Stevens, meanwhile, is staggering about the ring, both hands over his face. Toxxic maintains his superior, cocky attitude as he shakes his head, runs back, bounces off the ropes, runs and drops into the Soccer Slide, taking Grand Slam's feet our from under him! The big man falls flat on his back, both hands flopping out away from his face... Comet: Oh no! It looks like he may have broken his nose Robert! There's blood everywhere! Grand Slam rolls to one side to keep the blood from rolling down his throat as Toxxic pops up on the other side of him. Toxxic shakes his head, obviously annoyed and sad that his lesson needs to continue. He pulls back his foot... the crowd boos him lustily... he stomps down hard... right on Grand Slam's face! Comet: That's not right! Grand Slam may be seriously injured and Toxxic is continuing to lay in the punishment! Riley: I think it is pretty darn obvious how he feels about doing it though. It's too bad Grand Slam is too thick to have learned his lesson the first time! Comet: I think that villain feels just fine about it Robert! Toxxic pulls up his foot again... pauses dramatically for the crowd to boo him... then delivers another face stomp! But what he hears now doesn't please him! The boos are turning to cheers! He turns to look at the stage... And sees Megan pulling Landon Maddix out from behind the curtain!! He proceeds reluctantly, obviously tired and sore from his match, until he sees the massacre in the ring! He waves Megan backstage, then charges down the ramp towards the ring!! Comet: Maddix is here!! Landon Maddix is here to save Grand Slam!! Riley: Are you sure? Maybe he's just here to go after Toxxic! Or maybe he's here to pick apart the corpse! Toxxic kicks Grand Slam one more time for good measure, then settles in a ready stance, waiting for Maddix! Landon slides in the ring and pops to his feet... with the chair!! Comet: He grabbed the chair on the way in! Riley: That's illegal! He should drop that right now! Toxxic realizes too late that Landon has a weapon, and his dodge is just that much slower than Maddix's swing!! ::CRACK!!!:: Toxxic hits the mat hard, both hands on his head as the rest of Revolution Zero runs out from backstage, Jet screaming at them to hurry! Davis and Jenkins make it to ringside just as Maddix is winding up for another swing at their leader! Riley: Hurry you nincompoops!! As if they could hear him, Davis and Jenkins each grab a leg and quickly pull their fearless leader out of harm's way and help him, slowly, back up the ramp! Riley: Now we get to see Landon Maddix's true colors! In the ring, Grand Slam is struggling to stand while Maddix gives Toxxic the evil eye as the Straight-Edger makes his way out of the arena. Finally Maddix turns arouns, chair still in hand and glares at Grand Slam. The Heavy Hitter finally manages to get to his feet, attempts a smile at his savior, then extends his hand. Riley: Here we go! Grand Slam is going to get waffled with that chair again!! It is clear that Maddix is considering his options as the crowd starts to cheer, hoping to see these two men, bound by their mutual hatred of the Suicide King, becomes allies! Maddix looks around at the crowd and sees many pro-Landon signs. Grand Slam takes a shaky step forward, extends his hand again and says, "Thank you." Maddix nods, drops the chair, and clasps Grand Slam's hand! The crowd goes insane! The two gladiators stand there, locked in a handshake as the fans raise a cheer that dusts the rafters!! Riley: You have got to be kidding me!! Comet: Don't you ever get tired of being wrong Robert? Riley: One of these days, I'm going to get it right! One of these days I'm going to call a swerve and Bam! there will be a swerve! Comet: Perhaps someday, but for tonight we are all satisfied you are wrong as "Grand Slam" Mark Stevens and Landon Maddix appear to be on the same page! Thank you for joining us Ladies and Gentlemen... and we will see you on Wednesday for SWF Lockdown as we move one step closer to Rebirth on the Road to Genesis V!! Goodnight! The camera lingers in the ring as Grand Slam finshes the handshake, drops to his back and rolls out of the ring on his way to the back, leaving Landon Maddix to bask in the massive cheers and standing ovation he earned by his actions tonight. On his face, the camera catches just a hint of a smile... Fade...

We come back from commercials and the lights go out... there are several seconds of hushed silence that cause the crowd to become restless, but in spite of the clapping, talking, shouting and waving signs, they all know that it’s time for the main event. *CRACK!!* The crowd, simply put, explodes! The crack of a bat and the roar of the crowd announce Grand Slam! It quickly fades into the opening bass of "Born Bad" and the SmarkTron lights up with baseball highlights mixed with big spots from Grand Slam's matches while flashing the words "Grand Slam", "Mark Stevens" and "The Heavy Hitter". The various multicolored lights flash in time with the rhythmic bass until the guitars crash in... ’BORN BAD!’ *BOOOM!!* Abruptly the arena is flooded with bright white light while red and white pyro explodes at the top of the entrance ramp! When the smoke clears and everyone can see again, "Grand Slam" Mark Stevens is standing underneath the SmarkTron and the crowd erupts in even more cheers for the Heavy Hitter! “Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is tonight’s main event, and is scheduled for one fall,” Funyon booms over the roar of the crowd and Steven’s music. “Introducing first, from Lincoln, Nebraska; weighing 301lbs, he is the former SWF Commissioner... ‘GRAND SLAM’ MAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRK... STEEEEEEE-VEEENNNSSSS!!” As Funyon makes his announcement, the Heavy Hitter walks down the ramp slowly, savouring the cheers and pointing at various fans, slapping hands and keeping them screaming! Tonight, as the camera zooms in, he is wearing a Midnight Carnival baseball cap, and when the crowd sees this they cheer even louder, nearly drowning out his music! Grand Slam steps into the ring between the ropes and heads to a corner before climbing to the second turnbuckle, looking out at the crowd, and pumping his right fist into the air several times. This fires the crowd up even more and causes a flurry of flashbulbs to pop, illuminating the ring like a strobe-light! Before dropping back to the mat, Grand Slam flings his cap out to the crowd, giving some lucky fan a unique souvenir from the SWF, but once the cap is sent out and the music dies, his face becomes deadly serious. Grand Slam knows the scale of his task tonight, and he knows his opponent only too well. “Citizens, we have seen Mark Stevens in the ring against some very tough opposition of late,” Cyclone Comet says grimly, “but I find it difficult to believe that they can get much tougher than his adversary tonight, especially since Toxxic is well-known to detest our former Commissioner.” “I’m going to enjoy this,” Riley states simply, settling back in his seat. Riley finishes talking and the Smarktron screen goes white as the opening chord of 'Rookie' by Boy Sets Fire crashes out over the arena. The screen darkens and as it hits black the familiar slogan flashes up one word at a time in jagged white letters: 'PREPARE TO BE PROVED WRONG' As the guitar riff starts the black screen shifts and becomes the top of a spiky-haired head that raises and stares out with piercing grey eyes before a lopsided grin creases the right-hand side of Toxxic's face. The bass drum starts and clips of his matches flash up before moving onto footage of Toxxic taking Mike Van Siclen off a balcony and through a table, the devastating landing timed to coincide with the four blast of red pyro that climb the entrance ramp before the final, stagewide eruption as the main riff starts- *BAM-BAM-BAM-bap-BOOOM!!* -that signifies the arrival of the SWF's premier straight-edger! The smoke from the pyro starts to drift sideways across the arena, and Toxxic strides through with Jet at his side and the familiar lopsided grin on his face as he stares down at the ring where Grand Slam awaits. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “AND HIS OPPONENT!” Funyon bellows over the avalanche of boos that greet the straight-edger, “accompanied to the ring by Jet, from Nottingham, England; weighing 218lbs, he is the leader of Revolution Zero... the ‘Straight-Edge Sensation’... TOOOOOOXXXXXXXX-IIIIIIIIIIIC!!” Toxxic rolls into the ring and stands in the centre for a moment or two, then just as the first verse is about to begin he throws his arms wide, palms down, and each turnbuckle explodes with more red pyro! *bap-bap* *BOOOM!!* 'I never thought this could be me, I guess you never do until it's happening to you Like all the fun turns into shame And all the 'could-have-beens' rearrange...' Mark Stevens simply stares at the Straight-Edge Sensation, who flashes the older man a cocky grin before stripping his shirt off and passing it through the ropes to Jet. Matthew Kivell calls both men to the centre of the ring and starts to instruct them in the rules, but neither one seems particularly interested. Finally Kivell gives up, backs away and calls for the bell. *DING-DING-DING!* Mark immediately drops back, setting himself for a high-speed attack from the straight-edger, but Toxxic simply grins wider, then walks to the ropes. As Stevens looks on incredulously Toxxic sits down on the second rope and lifts the top one up, then beckons to the Heavy Hitter and motions to the entrance ramp! “What on earth is Toxxic doing?” Comet asks as Grand Slam simply looks bewildered. “He’s offering Mark Stevens exactly what he doesn’t deserve,” Riley says, “a way to keep his dignity by bowing out now before he gets taken apart by the Hot Commodity!” Mark is starting to catch onto the Straight-Edge Sensation’s meaning and his face reddens in anger. Toxxic continues to motion to the ramp, apparently in all seriousness... and Stevens loses his temper, striding over to the rookie and hauling him off the second rope, then starting to yell at him! Toxxic just stands and watches his former employer for a second, then- *SMACK!* -bitchslaps him! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Mark roars in anger and swings wildly at the Straight-Edge Sensation, but Toxxic easily ducks under the blow and dodges behind the bigger man. Grand Slam starts to turn to follow him, but Toxxic drives a basement dropkick into the side of Stevens’ surgically-repaired knee and the former Commissioner crumples sideways, hanging onto the ropes to prevent himself from falling while his face contorts in pain. Meanwhile the rookie heads for the far ropes, rebounding off them to pick up speed and heads straight back at the struggling Grand Slam at full speed before leaping into the air... ...but now Grand Slam does drop to the canvas, looking to evade Toxxic’s attack... ...and Toxxic balances on the top rope for a second and then backflips back into the ring, landing on his feet and flipping a V-sign at the prostrate Heavy Hitter! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “Well, Toxxic has certainly kicked his ego up into overdrive tonight,” Comet fumes as Mark starts to clamber to his feet, determined to get his hands on his cruiserweight tormentor. “I can’t wait to see Grand Slam Walk him Off!” “You know, Stevens should be more concerned about his heart rate than Toxxic,” Riley says with fake concern. “We don’t want him busting a blood vessel just getting up, do we?” Mark finishes getting to his feet, only to find Toxxic stifling a mock yawn at the time it took him! Truly angry now, Stevens lunges forward in an effort to grab the offending straight-edger and choke the life out of him, but Toxxic easily evades him again and slips behind him once more. However, no matter how angry he is Mark Stevens is still a quick learner and he doesn’t try to turn quickly this time; instead he allows his momentum to carry him on to the ropes where he turns and catches himself, only to see Toxxic getting up from another basement dropkick attempt that found itself with no knee to target. “GRAND SLAM!” *clap-clap-clap* “GRAND SLAM!” *clap-clap-clap* The Joe Louis Arena is coming to life in support of one of the SWF’s legends, and Mark raises one arm to acknowledge them without taking his eyes from Toxxic. The Straight-Edge Sensation cracks his neck from side-to-side, then nods in appreciation of his opponent’s quick thinking at evading the dropkick and moves in, apparently looking for a lock-up. Grand Slam’s face shows the scepticism with which he views this, but the knowledge that getting in close will allow him to use his considerable strength advantage means that he complies and lunges forward. Unfortunately for the Heavy Hitter Toxxic simply snares his right arm and uses his speed to go behind him and twist the limb up in a hammerlock. The pain of the move is increased by the fact that Grand Slam’s right elbow is the one which has a little ligament damage, and this may explain why Stevens is a little slow to use his greater technical expertise to counter out of the move. The extra second’s delay allows Toxxic to set himself, then he releases his grip and wraps his hands around Grand Slam’s forehead before sitting out with the Underkill! *WHAM!!* The back of Stevens’ skull crashes into the canvas and the former Commissioner grabs his head in pain as he struggles to rise back to his feet. He knows that Toxxic will already be setting something else up, but he doesn’t know what until a shape dives off the top buckle behind him and flies headfirst over him, trapping his head between its legs as it goes and taking Grand Slam over with a diving headscissors! The Heavy Hitter is rolled across the ring by the move and comes to rest in a sitting position, a predicament that he quickly tries to escape by twisting over onto all fours to push himself up- *SMACK!* -but Toxxic comes out of left field with a basement dropkick to the Slammer’s temple! Mark is knocked over onto his back by the force of the impact, and Toxxic scrambles to cover his fallen foe... ONE! TWO!! ...but Mark kicks out with authority, boosting Toxxic’s 218lbs clean off his chest! Again he goes onto all fours to try and push himself back to his feet, but this time Toxxic dives over his shoulders and brings him over with an Oklahoma Roll... ONE! TWO!! ...to no avail, as the Heavy Hitter kicks out again. Before Stevens can get up however, Toxxic is on him again and fastens a sleeperhold around the neck of the big man! “A curious choice of tactics by the so-called Straight-Edge Sensation there,” Comet muses. “Toxxic isn’t known for his technical expertise, and someone with Grand Slam’s ability could quite easily counter out of that...” Indeed, the masked man’s predictions are borne out in short order as it only takes a few seconds for Grand Slam to adjust his positioning in Toxxic’s inexpert grip and then use his leg strength to force his way up to his feet. Toxxic gamely hangs on, but Mark has the bit between his teeth now and he wraps his arms around the straight-edger’s waist before hoisting him up in a backdrop that drives his opponent’s back into the canvas! “YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “Christ, it’s only his first offensive move of the match,” Riley mutters, “no need to go crazy.” Mark shakes his head in an effort to clear it of the recent abuse, then focuses on the cruiserweight now laid out on the mat beside him. Grand Slam knows that he needs to soften Toxxic up for the Walk-Off, and quickly, but right now it would probably make more sense to damage his legs a bit and take away some of his speed advantage. With that in mind the Heavy Hitter gets up and takes hold of Toxxic’s legs, looking for the Figure-Four Leglock, but as he makes the first twist and leans down to apply it the straight-edger reaches up and grabs Grand Slam’s head to take him over in a small package! ONE! TWO!! Stevens kicks out again, but Toxxic immediately rolls away and scrambles to his feet to prevent Mark from attacking his legs again. Grand Slam is determined not to lose his advantage and charges at the Straight-Edge Sensation as Toxxic recuperates in the corner, but the rookie dodges to one side and Mark slams into the turnbuckles chest-first instead! Toxxic then grabs the rebounding former Commissioner and whips him across the ring to the far corner; however, halfway through Mark reverses the momentum and sends Toxxic in instead. It is the work of a moment though for Toxxic to vault lightly up to the top turnbuckle and come flying back at the Heavy Hitter, twisting in midair to deliver the diving clothesline known as the Role Reversal! Both men hit the canvas at the same moment and skid a couple of feet - then Toxxic’s legs coil up under his chin, and the straight-edger kips up explosively! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “Wonderful!” Riley exults as Detroit shits all over the leader of Revolution Zero. “Face it Comet, Grand Slam is getting owned by Toxxic in there!” “As long as Toxxic sticks to his high-flying game, I’d have to agree,” Comet sighs. “However, it was noticeable that the moment the rookie tried something more technical, Citizen Stevens was able to turn the tables.” “So Toxxic sticks to flip-flopping around the ring and avoids sleeperholds,” Riley snorts, “it’s not exactly complicated tactics, is it!” Grand Slam is struggling to his feet again, but Toxxic quickly grabs his opponent’s head and drives it down into his knee- *CRUNCH!* -before placing Stevens in a front facelock to complete the Sobering Thought with a DDT, but Mark desperately bridges backwards with a Northern Light Suplex! *BANG!* “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” ONE! TWO!! Toxxic kicks out but the straight-edger looks rather rattled and winded, and Mark doesn’t allow his opponent to get back up first by simply reaching round when still on all fours and dealing the rookie a hard right hand! Toxxic sprawls across the mat again and Grand Slam has time to rise to his feet, then bend down and lock both arms around the straight-edger’s waist from behind. Stevens hauls Toxxic to his feet in a rear waistlock, then bridges backwards and throws Toxxic over his head with a German suplex... *whump* ...but as he so often does, Toxxic flips through the move and lands on his feet! Mark struggles to rise back to a vertical base as the rookie charges back in- *WHAM!* -and not only succeeds, but catches the charging Straight-Edge Sensation and hammers him down to the mat with a good old-fashioned spinebuster! “GRAND SLAM!” *clap-clap-clap* “GRAND SLAM!” *clap-clap-clap* Mark blows out his cheeks - he still isn’t used to moving this quickly again - but he drops down to cover the rookie once more, and Kivell drops to make the count... ONE! TWO!! TH- -but Toxxic kicks out, and the Joe Louis Arena sits back down in disappointment. It’s going to take more than that to put Toxxic away, but Mark Stevens has an idea of what he can use. The Heavy Hitter pulls Toxxic back up to his feet... then places the Straight-Edge Sensation in a standing headscissors! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “WALK-OFF!” Comet yells in delighted anticipation. “Close your eyes and think of England, Toxxic!” But despite the impact of Grand Slam’s last few moves, Toxxic isn’t anywhere near battered enough to be taken out by a move very similar to one of his own, not to mention the fact that he has this lasting aversion to moves that involve a double underhook ever since his rivalry with Nathaniel Kibagami. So as Mark hooks Toxxic’s left arm up with his right one the rookie fastens his own right arm firmly around Mark’s left leg at the knee, hooking and pulling with all his might. Stevens staggers and reaches down to club Toxxic in the back, but Toxxic manages to squirm his other arm free from the Slammer’s grip as well and starts to stand, taking Mark’s left leg with him. Now without a solid base, Grand Slam wavers precariously for a moment before Toxxic sweeps his other leg away with his own, then grabs both of Mark’s legs and jacknifes over him into a pin! ONE! TWO!! TH- -but even though the breath has just been blasted from Grand Slam’s lungs, the Hall-of-Famer isn’t going down that easily and he kicks out again, although with less power than before. “Well Citizens, Toxxic certainly seems to be interested in going for the quick pin tonight,” Comet observes with some surprise. “I would have thought that he would want to make our former Commissioner suffer, but perhaps the humiliation of defeat is all he intends to inflict.” “There is no humiliation in being defeated by Toxxic!” Riley argues vehemently. “For shame, Comet!” Toxxic slips away through the ropes as Mark starts to get to his feet, and with his opponent having disappeared the Heavy Hitter can only turn on the spot, looking for him... unfortunately for Mark, he only finds Toxxic when the rookie springboards off the top rope at him, wraps his legs around Stevens’ head and takes him over with a hurricanrana! Mark lands on the back of his neck but the momentum of the move allows him to quickly rise back up to his feet, where Toxxic snares him in a rear headlock and drops to one knee, driving the other into the back of the Heavy Hitter’s neck! However, when Toxxic tries to haul Stevens up for the second part of the Detoxx Grand Slam’s weight and the high-impact moves dealt to Toxxic’s back foils him, and he is forced to let the former Commissioner drop to the mat somewhat anti-climatically. Nevertheless, Mark is still down and Toxxic steps through the ropes to the apron before raising three fingers over his head. “Toxxic is really using his speed advantage here,” Comet notes in dismay. “In fact, I’m not sure if he has stayed on the mat for more than about thirty seconds tonight!” “Why hang around trading punches with a hoss when you can fly through the air?” Riley asks. “Only heroes can FLY~! Robert!” “Shut up.” In an attempt to prove Cyclone Comet wrong, Toxxic vaults to the top rope... ...to the turnbuckles... ...and corkscrews back through the air into the Hangover, dropping one leg right across Mark Stevens’ throat! The former Commissioner spasms on the mat, and Toxxic hooks the leg... ONE! TWO!! THR- -but Stevens still kicks out, and Toxxic is starting to look ever-so-slightly frustrated. He deals with this by straddling Mark’s chest and beginning to rain down right hands, while Stevens vainly tries to cover up and Kivell first warns the inattentive straight-edger about the closed fist, then begins his count. ‘ONE!’ ‘TWO!’ ‘THREE!’ ‘FOUR!’ ‘FI-’ Toxxic ceases his attack just before the disqualification mark and rolls off his opponent, who is now bleeding from the nose. Kivell backs the rookie up and warns him about his behaviour but Toxxic blows the official off and advances on Mark Stevens, grabbing him by the head and hauling him up before firing off a standing dropkick to the former Commissioner that staggers him back into the corner. Without pausing the Straight-Edge Sensation charges in, leaping into the air to catch Mark with a leg lariat across the chest and neck and managing to land on the apron as he ricochets off the Slammer’s powerful frame. For his part Mark wobbles out of the corner, and Toxxic slingshots himself back into the ring from the apron to hook the Heavy Hitter around the shoulders and take him down with the Radford Roll! ONE! TWO!! THRR- -but Mark kicks out! “YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “GRAND SLAM!” *clap-clap-clap* “GRAND SLAM!” *clap-clap-clap* “GRAND SLAM!” *clap-clap-clap* Toxxic is looking less and less happy by the second, but he hauls Stevens up and whips the bigger man into the corner again, then charges in after him. Mark steps out and raises one boot, looking to catch Toxxic in the head, but the straight-edger ducks under the blow and springs lightly up to sit on the top buckle as he reaches the corner. Grand Slam turns and charges in himself, looking to surprise the rookie and knock him down to the outside, but Toxxic’s raised boot finds its mark (as it were) and the Heavy Hitter is knocked round 180 degrees by the impact. From there it is a simple matter for Toxxic to reach forward and apply a reverse headlock, then swing out of the corner and drive the back of Stevens’ skull into the mat with the Final Shine tornado reverse DDT! *BANG!* The Joe Louis Arena has been quietened very quickly, but the support for Grand Slam is palpable as Kivell drops to make another count... ONE! TWO!! THHHHHRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Toxxic is furious this time, and he pops back up to his feet to remonstrate with Kivell in no uncertain manner. The cockney official mouths back at the Straight-Edge Sensation, clearly not intimidated by this eyelinered twat from the East Midlands, and after a few seconds Toxxic flips Kivell the v-sign and turns back to his opponent to finish the job. Grand Slam has managed to push himself back up to one knee, his eyes unfocused... ...and as Toxxic reaches out for his head, the Slammer lunges forward and buries his shoulder into the rookie’s gut! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “Low blow! Low blow!” Riley shouts in outrage. “How can it be a low blow?” Comet asks incredulously. “He hit him in the stomach!” “I didn’t say how low!” Riley snaps. Toxxic is doubled over and wheezing, but even through his rattled skull Grand Slam knows he only has a few seconds. However, that veteran manoeuvre might have just bought him the time he needs... he rises to his feet and positions himself behind Toxxic, then threads his arms underneath the Straight-Edge Sensation’s into a full nelson position. Detroit has a good idea what’s coming next, and they rise to their feet in anticipation... *BANG!* Dragon suplex... “GRAND SLAM!” *clap-clap-clap* *BANG!!* Full-nelson drop... “GRAND SLAM!” *clap-clap-clap* *WHAM!!!* GRAND SLAM! “GRAND SLAM!” *clap-clap-clap* “GRAND SLAM!” *clap-clap-clap* “Citizen Stevens just hit the Triple Play!” Comet erupts in delight as Mark collapses sideways while Toxxic lies facefirst down on the mat, non-moving. “Those three moves can beat the toughest competitors in the business, and despite his relative lack of offence so far Grand Slam can surely win this now! All he has to do is cover Toxxic, and this could be over!” “Could be, Comet...” Riley says tensely, “could be...” Mark Stevens pushes himself back up to a sitting position and leans forward to roll Toxxic over onto his back. The rookie looks to be out, but Grand Slam’s veteran instincts kick in anyway and he makes sure to hook the leg before leaning into the cover to put all of his recently-gained weight onto Toxxic shoulders... ONE! TWO!! THHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! “He kicked out!” Comet gasps in dismay as the Straight-Edge Sensation just, just squeezes a shoulder off the canvas. “Grand Slam hit the Triple Play, but Toxxic still kicked out!” “‘Could be’, Comet, ‘could be’” Riley shouts, “not ‘will be’! Toxxic’s still in this, and you’d better believe that our fat, out-of-shape sleazebag of a former Commissioner is going to need something better than that to put him away!” Mark Stevens just look up in disbelief at Matthew Kivell, who shrugs and looks apologetic but can’t make his count faster even for a legend like Grand Slam. So the Slammer heaves a sigh, and starts to push himself up once more. It looks like he’s going to have to do this the hard way. “GRAND SLAM!” *clap-clap-clap* “GRAND SLAM!” *clap-clap-clap* Stevens takes Toxxic by the waist of his baggy trousers and lifts the dazed rookie up into a standing headscissors. The Joe Louis Arena starts to buzz again, thinking that they might be privy to the Walk-Off, but Stevens isn’t willing to risk that again; not yet, not until he’s quite certain that Toxxic won’t be able to counter out of it, because he hasn’t got much left and if Toxxic manages a reversal now it could be curtains. So he wraps his arms around Toxxic’s waist and hoists him up bodily, looking for a powerbomb, but at the apex of his trip Toxxic seems to come to his senses and begins desperately hammering right hands down at Mark’s face! The former Commissioner relaxes his grip, trying to shield himself from his opponent’s attack, and Toxxic abruptly ceases his assault to lock his legs tight around Grand Slam’s neck and snap backwards to send the Heavy Hitter skidding across the ring on his head and neck! “GRAND SLAM!” *clap-clap-clap* “GRAND SLAM!” *clap-clap-clap* The chants are still growing in volume but they’re sounding more desperate now, and as Mark struggles to pull himself up on the ropes he knows they have good reason to. Two years ago... hell, six months ago... he’d still have enough left in him to keep going at this point. But those days are gone, possibly never to return, and perhaps most importantly Mark knows that he doesn’t want them to return. He’s happy with his family, out of the ring. But nevertheless, he’s here, and he owes it to his legacy to keep trying. So ‘Grand Slam’ Mark Stevens rises to his feet one more time, turning to face whatever the world throws at him. *WHAM!* Which happens to be a European uppercut, courtesy of the Straight-Edge Sensation. *WHAM!* Toxxic’s lack of baseball knowledge means he didn’t appreciate the Triple Play all that much, apparently. *WHAM!* Stevens staggers back as another blow crashes into his jaw, and now Toxxic changes up his attack to something a little more quick-fire before Mark gets himself together and begins to hit back... RIGHT! LEFT! RIGHT! LEFT! ...the straight-edger steps back, flips the V-sign at Mark Stevens and whirls around on the spot to deliver the Discus Clothesline... ...and Mark slaps his hand around Toxxic’s throat before hoisting him off the mat for a chokeslam! “YEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-” *CRACK!* “-ooooooooooooo....” The Joe Louis Arena see Toxxic hoisted into the air, but then they see him lash out and kick Mark Stevens in the jaw. They see Steven’s grip slip as his arm jerks back instinctively, and they see Toxxic spin and twist in midair to take the Heavy Hitter over with an armdrag. They see his own momentum carry Grand Slam through the move, coming up to his feet while facing the turnbuckle, and they see Toxxic run past him, snaring him in a 3/4 facelock on the way. And they see Toxxic run up the turnbuckle and flip back over Mark’s head to finally come down behind him and drive his skull into the mat with the Intoxxication. *WHAM!!* Toxxic isn’t taking any chances. He hooks the leg, and rolls into the cover with everything he’s got. ONE! TWO!! THHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! *DING-DING-DING!* “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” The Joe Louis Arena is on its feet, and they are not happy at what they’ve just seen. Mark Stevens gave his all, but in the end the main triumphant was the last man that anyone in attendance tonight wanted to see with his hand raised in the air. “Grand Slam struck out!” Riley laughs in delight as Matthew Kivell raises Toxxic’s arm in victory while ‘Rookie’ blares out over the arena PA. “Toxxic gets his revenge, and what a glorious day this is!” “If Grand Slam had been in his prime, this match might well have ended differently,” Comet says sadly. “As it was- where’s Toxxic going?” The Straight-Edge Sensation has rolled out under the ropes and brushed past his girlfriend to approach the announcer’s position. Funyon hastily moves, and Toxxic picks up a steel chair which he folds up before re-entering the ring, and approaching Grand Slam. “Ah, the exclamation point on the evening,” Riley says. “How very fitting.” A dazed Mark Stevens has managed to roll over onto his front and has started to slowly push himself up. Toxxic stands over his fallen adversary, raises the steel chair high in the air and... *CRACK!!*[/b][/b][/b] ...brings it down on the canvas right in front of Mark Steven’s head. The noise causes the Heavy Hitter to jerk groggily back, and he looks up to investigate the cause. As he does so, he sees Toxxic looking down at him with a lopsided grin on his face and a thumb and forefinger held an inch apart, plainly telling the former Commissioner that he could have smashed his skull in... if he had chosen to. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “These people are booing!” Riley says in disbelief. “Would they have preferred that Toxxic had hit him!?” The straight-edger turns away from the Slammer and heads for the exit, having made his point... but Mark Stevens isn’t going to take an insult like that lying down. Rage gives the big man an extra impetus and he surges unsteadily to his feet before reaching out and grabbing Toxxic’s arm, spinning the rookie back to face him. Toxxic looks surprised that Grand Slam is back on his feet so quickly, but surprise quickly fades into a sneer as Mark begins berating the arrogant straight-edger. Toxxic’s response is lost in the din of the arena, but Mark apparently doesn’t like it and shoves Toxxic in the chest. The leader of Revolution Zero shoves back, making a far less noticeable impact on the heavier man, but Mark is really angry now and he draws back his right hand- *CRACK!!* -and this time, the chair doesn’t hit the canvas. Instead, it slams straight into Grand Slam’s right knee. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “CRIMINAL!” Cyclone Comet roars. “The match is over!” Toxxic isn’t done, and he aims for Mark’s head this time. *CRACK!!* Stevens hits the mat, and Toxxic simply throws the chair away and starts stomping the living daylights out of Grand Slam as Kivell calls repeatedly for the bell, with no effect.

“Welcome back, citizens, to SWF Storm!” It’s September the third, and the thousands of fans in the Joe Louis Arena in Detroit, Michigan, are acting like it’s Christmas! …unless they’re Jewish. Or Atheist. Or any other faith. But anyway. “It’s been a heck of a night here in Motor City,” Comet continues, “but there’s still two more action-packed matches to go!” “You know, Comet,” Riley chimes in, “I couldn’t be happier to notice that you decided to stop introducing yourself in that overblown manner.” “Good observation, Bobbo,” Comet replies, “but I figure that since I’ve introduced myself a number of times tonight, there’s no use in doing it again. But I digress. Bobbo, up next we have what should be a tremendous exhibition in competition.” “What, Maddix and Mask? Count me rather uninterested,” Riley harshly replies, “I mean, I respect Landon for not accepting Mark Stevens with open arms, and I respect The Masked Man…well, no, I really don’t. But hey, it’s a no-disqualifications match, so I’m hoping these two will be able to kill each other.” As the commentators continue to discuss the harsh nature of Riley’s words, Funyon steps into the ring and begins speaking. “Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is for the Smarks Wrestling Federation INTERCONTINENTAL-TELEVISION CHAMPIONSHIP! In this match, there will be NO disqualifications!” The lights go into a green strobe! A beat! Another beat! “OOH OOH OOH AHH AHH AHH!” The music is familiar…it’s Morris Day and The Time’s “Jungle Love”! The fans pop for the music of the Purple Rain/Jay & Silent Bob Strike Back co-star, but they’re confused as to why it’s playing…until a familiar, masked silhouette appears at the top of the ramp! “Introducing the challenger! From Craiova, Romania, but currently residing in Orofino, Idaho, weighing in at two-hundred and forty-three pounds, representing the URRRRBAN EMMMMMPIRE, he is THE MAAAAAASSSSSSSSKED MAAAAAAAAAAN!” Mask begins dancing to the music, and the fans pop enormously! He continues to strut his way down the ramp, and once he reaches ringside, he runs and slides into the ring. Once up in the ring he peels his jacket off seductively, throwing it into the crowd for the fans to catch and/or fight over. “PREPARE … FOR … LANDON!” WAAAAAAAAAAH! *DUM DUM!* Incubus’ “Megalomaniac” erupts through the Joe Louis Arena, and the Detroit crowd, well, they give a good-sized eruption of cheers themselves! Maddix appears at the top of the ramp, Megan Skye at his side and ICTV Title belt around his waist! He walks down the ramp with Megan, reaching the ringside area. “Now, introducing the champion! From Huron, South Dakota, weighing in at two-hundred and eighteen pounds and being accompanied by Megan Skye, he is the Smarks Wrestling Federation INTERCONTINENTAL-TELEVISION CHAMPION, he is LAAAAAAAAANDON ‘LA CUCARACHA’ MAAAAAAADDIIIIIIIIIIIX!” Skye takes a spot at ringside, while Landon leaps onto the apron, running the length of it and leaping onto the middle rope, holding his arms out for the enthusiastic crowd. He then leaps over the ropes and into the ring, where he removes his belt. He locks eyes with The Masked Man, and he doesn’t take his eyes off of him, even as he hands the belt to referee Jefferson Harding. Harding shows the belt to Mask, to Maddix, and to the live and television audience, before handing it to the timekeeper and calling for the bell! *DING DING DING* The two men take a few steps forward, the crowd’s anticipation growing with each step. Finally, they lunge forward, into a collar-elbow tie-up! The stronger Mask easily overpowers Maddix, forcing him against the turnbuckle until referee Harding calls for a clean break. TMM obliges, giving the champion breathing room. As Landon dusts himself off, Mask cracks his neck impatiently. Finally, Maddix charges forward, and Mask lunges for another tie-up, but Landon ducks under this lunge and wraps his arms around him with a waistlock. The champion struggles to keep the hold on, but all TMM has to do is stand still; he’s stronger than his opponent. Masked Fury decides, instead of trying to fight it, to run backwards, sandwiching Maddix between his 243 pound frame and the turnbuckle! The Masked Man moves to the center of the ring and charges back at Maddix, but the much quicker cockroach is able to turn facing the turnbuckle, leap up to the second rope, and vault backwards, performing a moonsault over the charging Masked Man and land on his feet! TMM turns around in befuddlement, only to have Landon wrap his arm around Mask’s head and drop to his knees, flipping his opponent over with a side headlock takedown, keeping the headlock in tight once they hit the mat! “And that sequence,” Comet begins, “just showcased Maddix’s new game plan – flashy style, with a hell of a lot of substance, too.” “Comet, I wouldn’t exactly call a side headlock ‘substance’,” Riley replies. It’s still much too early in the match to have a submission from a headlock, and Mask easily gets to his knees, and then back up to his feet. To escape the headlock, he fires two quick elbows into the gut of Landon, before backing up and firing him into the ropes. Maddix rebounds and TMM bends down, letting Landon’s momentum carry him UP and OVER with a BAAAAAAAAAAACK body drop…but Landon lands on his feet! The Sexual Maskosaurus hears this and spins around, swinging his arm for a clothesline…ducked! Maddix runs to the nearest ropes, leaps onto the second rope, and springboards off, spinning around and nailing Mask in the face with a flying forearm smash that takes him down! “MAD – IX! MAD – IX! MAD – IX!” “LET’S – GO – MASK! LET’S – GO – MASK!” “We’ve got dueling chants early on,” Comet helpfully points out. “I wish these fickle fans would just PICK someone,” Riley sighs, “you don’t have to be NICE all of the time.” The Masked Man quickly pulls himself up to his feet, but the ICTV Champion stays right on him, nailing him with a forearm to the face! A second! A third! With Mask woozy, Landon leaps high into the air and shoots his legs out for a dropkick…but TMM sidesteps it! As soon as the cockroach crashes onto the mat, Masked Fury drives his elbow deep into his sternum, and then mounts the champion, nailing him with hard right-handed shots! After a barrage/flurry/assortment of punches, Mask dismounts his opponent and then walks over to the ropes, stepping between them and exiting the ring. He marches over to the timekeeper’s table and grabs his chair out from under him, folding it up and pounding on it for emphasis. As Landon climbs to his feet, he sees Mask with the chair, and decides to use the weapon against him. TMM climbs onto the apron as Maddix bounces off of the opposite ropes, running full speed… *CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!* …right into an ENORMOUS chairshot from The Masked Man, who saw Maddix out of the corner of his eye! “Good GRAVY!” Comet exclaims, “That was one sick chairshot! MY head hurts after seeing that!” “You didn’t even have to SEE that to know it hurt,” Riley agrees, “I think the sound of steel meeting skull is still echoing!” The crowd gives a big “OOOOOOOOOOH!” to the chairshot, and even Mask looks surprised at the force, and at the champion lying motionless on the mat. He climbs into the ring and drops the chair, going over to Maddix and covering him for the first pin of the match! “ONE!” “TWO!” A KICKOUT! The Detroit crowd roars as Maddix escapes the near-fall situation. “Already a near fall this early in the match,” Comet notes, “we could be in for a HELL of a battle here tonight!” Mask brings Landon up to his feet, before grabbing his wrist and whipping him into the turnbuckle! La Cucaracha hits with such force that he stumbles out of the corner. However, TMM stops this by charging forward, lifting his leg up, and nailing a big boot into Maddix’s chest that sends him back against the corner. With the champ cornered, the challenger reels back and nails him with a knife-edge chop! *SMACK!* “WOOOOOO!” However, Mask shakes his head, realizing that a chop isn’t going to cut it. He instead pulls his arm back and nails a BIG right hand against Maddix’s forehead! And another! Another! Another! TMM hits the punches with such force and quickness, Maddix drops down onto his ass just to avoid anymore. Unfortunately, this doesn’t stop TMM, as he backs up to the middle of the ring and then charges forward, dropping down feet-first and hitting the champion with a baseball slide into his face! “Our Sexual Maskosaurus is being uncharacteristically…” Comet trails off, searching for a word. “Focused?” Riley finishes, “Comet, it’s obvious. He wants that Intercontinental-Television Championship, and with no disqualifications, he’s going to do whatever he can to win it.” Mask brings himself up and walks over to the used chair, kicking it over to the center of the ring. He then walks back to Maddix and brings him up, standing behind him and trapping him in a waistlock. Lining the champion up for a collision with the chair, TMM hoists him into the air and falls back with a Romanian Suplex…but Maddix is able to flip over and land on his feet! As Masked Fury gets to his feet and turns around, Landon is able to grab the chair… *CRAAAAAACK!* …and give Mask a taste of his own medicine with a HYOOOGE chairshot! Maddix throws down the chair just as TMM collapses forward, so he smashes his face right into it! To add a bit of insult to injury, Landon walks over to the corner, and then runs towards the downed challenger, leaping into the air with his leg bent and nailing a perfect knee drop into the back of Mask’s head, into the chair! Landon rolls through with the move, and then turns TMM over, covering him as Jefferson Harding counts! “ONE!” “TWO!” SHOULDER UP! “Maddix is doing the exact same thing,” Riley cheers, “and I love it! These guys know they’re going to have to beat pints of blood out of one another to win, so they’re ready to do it.” “LET’S – GO – MAD – IX!” *clap – clap – clap-clap-clap* “LET’S – GO – MAD – IX!” *clap – clap – clap-clap-clap* The Joe Louis fans are loud for the champion, who takes Mask by the head and brings him up to his feet. He stuns him with two forearm smashes, and then runs behind him, towards the ropes. On the rebound, he reaches out and grabs TMM’s head, flipping over him and slamming him face-first into the mat with the throwback! The move, on top of the chairshot and punches earlier, has already taken its toll on the champion, and he doesn’t climb to his feet, but instead rolls towards the ropes, under the ropes, and to the outside of the ring. With the help of Megan he gets to a standing position, and then lifts up the ring skirt, looking for a weapon...and producing a trash can! Inside the ring, Mask uses the ropes to pull himself up, but Landon reaches out and grabs his leg, pulling it out from under him and sending him face-down onto the mat. He then pulls the challenger by the leg out of the ring and onto the floor, before surprising him with a trashcan shot! *BAM!* This sends TMM stumbling backwards, allowing Landon to place the can over Mask’s head! The challenger stumbles around blindly, and Maddix brings him over to the ring steps. With Maddix on the second step, he traps TMM (well, the trash can) in a front facelock, before falling back and nailing a big DDT on the ring steps! *BANG!* “These two warriors are throwing psychology out the window!” Comet exclaims, “this has just turned into an all-out battle!” “’Just’?” Riley questions, “Comet, they’ve been at each other’s throats since the beginning. This is SO much better than I expected.” Mask simply rolls off of the steps and lands with a thud on the protective mats, but Landon stays on him, sending him under the ropes and back into the ring. The Sexual Maskosaurus gets to his knees and tries to pull the trash can off, but he doesn’t have enough time, as La Cucaracha reenters the ring and immediately runs forward, placing his boot on Mask’s knee and twisting his other leg around, nailing a shining wizard onto the trashcan! “OOOOOOOOOOH!” TMM falls back down to the mat and Maddix pulls the can off of him, pressing him down for a pin! “ONE!” “TWO!” “THR – NO!” The Masked Man gets his shoulder up, much to the delight of the fans. La Cucaracha wants to end this NOW, though, and he picks Mask up, dragging him over to the turnbuckle. He stands up on the second turnbuckle and wraps his arm around Mask’s neck, calling for the Crash Landon! With an explosive blast of enthusiasm from the crowd, Landon vaults off, spinning through the air and coming down… *CHING!* …right into a knee to the balls! With Maddix doubled over in sheer pain, Mask is slowly able to trap him in a front facelock, hoist him upside down into the air…and DRIVE HIM DOWN WITH THE CAUTIONARY TALE OF SEXUAL MASKOSAURUS!” The fans should be cheering. Instead, they’re booing. Loudly. “Bobbo, that’s Spike Jenkins! What the hell is he doing out here?” “I don’t care, Comet. He just made the match twice as interesting!” Spike slides under the bottom rope into the ring and goes immediately for the Sexual Maskosaurus, who is on his knees. Jenkins blindsides him with forearms to the back of the head, and then brings him up by the mask. Holding him by the head, Hollywood runs towards the nearest corner and drives Mask’s head into the turnbuckle. As the challenger stumbles back, Spike runs to the nearest ropes and, coming behind Mask, he leaps forward and grabs his neck, falling forward for the Bad Beat… …but he gets nothing but air, and he falls flat onto his back! “But Bobbo, Landon Maddix and The Masked Man were having a great fight, why did Spike feel the need to interfere?” “It’s simple – Mask is in the Urban Empire, Spike is in Revolution Zero. They hate each other. Spike is going to make Mask’s life a living hell, and cost him a title while he’s at it. Well, not right now. But he’ll recover from what just happened.” Jenkins hops right up to his feet, unshaken, but Mask is waiting for him, as he wraps his arm around Spike’s neck and executes a sleeper hold, before running towards the corner, running up the turnbuckle and kicking off the top, spinning around and slamming Spike down onto the steel chair with the tornado sleeper slam! “Incredible!” Comet exclaims, “Revolution Zero’s interference just backfired, and Spike just rode the Mask™!” TMM kicks Spike under the bottom rope and out of the ring, and then notices La Cucaracha stirring. Looking to put him away for good, Mask brings him up and stands behind him, placing him in an inverted facelock. From there, he grabs a hold of Maddix’s tights and hoists him up, upside down, going for the reverse Cautionary Tale of Sexual Maskosaurus! …but somehow, Maddix wriggles free of Mask’s grasp, dropping onto his feet harmlessly behind TMM! In an instant, Maddix laces one arm through Mask’s, trapping him in a half nelson before sweeping Mask’s leg out from under him, slamming him forward with a move known the world over as… “THE JOKER’S WILD!” Comet cries, “Landon Maddix just used the Suicide King’s legendary finishing move on The Masked Man!” “This is an OUTRAGE!” Riley exclaims, “this is one of the biggest acts of defiance against authority I’ve ever seen!” “It’s been done before, Bobbo!” “But not like this! Not with so much hatred between our illustrious Suicide King and the lowly Landon Maddix!” Maddix, meanwhile, rolls Mask over, hooking a leg as Jefferson Harding, and the Joe Louis Arena, counts the pin! “ONE!” “TWO!” “THREE!” *DING DING DING* “Megalomaniac” hits again, and the crowd erupts as Jefferson Harding helps Maddix to his feet and raises his arm in the air. “Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of this contest,” Funyon bellows, “and STILL SWF Intercontinental-Television Champion, LAAAAAAAANDON MAAAAAAAAADDIIIIIIIIIIX!” Now Megan Skye enters the ring, giving her cockroach a big hug. Landon looks a bit out of it, but as he’s handed his title belt, he holds it in the air and yells, “that’s for you, King!” “Of course, if our Sexual Maskosaurus hadn’t been distracted by Spike Jenkins, we might’ve had a new ICTV Champion,” Comet notes, “but either way, this is a controversial ending to a no-disqualification match.” “Rematch! I call for a rematch!” Riley cries, “That peon doesn’t deserve to be holding that belt. Actually, I don’t care who gets it, just take it away from him! He’s defaced the good name of the Suicide King!” “Well, up next,” Comet shifts, “Toxxic will try to take out a legend in ‘Grand Slam’ Mark Stevens. That’s out main event, and it’s up next on Storm!” *FADE*

An outside view of the Joe Louis Arena in Detroit, Michigan brings us back live to SWF Storm, as the fans cheer at the view of the building where the action is taking place. “Welcome back fans, we’re live here in Detroit, Michigan,” Cyclone Comet welcomes us back from the commercial break, “and we’re eagerly anticipating tonight’s main event! Toxxic and Mark Stevens, one-on-one in that very ring, Bobby!” “But that’s later in the show, folks, as right now we have an interesting match coming up featuring two big men.” “It’s no normal match, Comet, this match will come down to two moves! The Blunt Force Trauma and The Flatliner, belonging to John Duran and Nathan Xavier, respectively. The first man to hit their finisher will be the winner, and I must say that it’s about time that Xavier takes on an opponent that can actually lift him in Duran.” “If you ask me, Robert, the most interesting thing about this match is that Duran himself asked for this match,” Comet says with an incredulous tone. “The Flatliner is one of the most potentially dangerous finishing maneuvers in the SWF today, but more importantly, it focuses on the neck, and I think that’s the last thing Duran needs to happen to him after these recent strings of losses.” “Comet, I think this is Duran’s way of motivating himself. He knows that he absolutely has to win this match, or he might end up with his neck snapped off at the root!” “Duran has been in a rut lately, and his chances of getting that World Title shot he’s been after are looking less likely with every match that he fails to win! Nathan Xavier is certainly not the biggest wrestler in terms of popularity, but what Xavier lacks in popularity in the SWF, he makes up for with his massive size! It’ll be a task for Xavier to be lifted off the ground into Duran’s Blunt Force Trauma!” “I’m tired of talking, Comet, let’s just get to the ring and get this match started!” “Funyon is in the ring and he’s ready, so we’re certainly ready for this next matchup!” The camera switches to a view of Funyon, facing straight ahead at the camera that is slowly zooming in on him. “Ladies and gentlemen, this next match is a FINISHER match!” There are scattered cheers among the fans as Funyon continues. “The only way to win this match is to hit your own finisher, as has been designated before the match by the wrestler himself. No other move will end the match! There are no disqualifications, no countouts, and this match could end anywhere in this arena!” Some more cheers pop up among the Michiganians. “(Go To) California” by Rob Zombie begins to play over the loudspeakers as the crowd rises to their feet as the synthesized guitar riffs float out over the Detroit natives. Nathan Xavier emerges from the curtain, walking down to the ring and slapping hands with fans who stretch their arms out to touch the big man. “Introducing first,” Funyon begins again, “being accompanied to the ring by Sasha Edwards, he hails from Santa Clara, California and weighs in at three hundred and twenty-six pounds...NAAAAAAATHAN XAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAVIER!” The warm reception for Xavier continues as he steps up onto the apron and then enters through the ropes, raising his left hand in the air to show off his cast-iron chain that gets some more cheers from the crowd. Sasha applauds her husband, there at ringside to provide moral support for Xavier in the match. “Do you think he’ll use that chain during the match?” Comet asks Riley. “If I were Nathan Xavier, I’d be more worried about Duran using that chain on me! He’s not called The Notorious One for no reason!” “NO! NO! NOTORIOUS!” With that being said, Spineshank’s “Synthetic” kicks in and the warm reception turns ice cold in a matter of seconds, the fans stretching their vocal chords out to boo the former SWF World Heavyweight Champion as he emerges from the curtain, throwing two middle fingers in the air towards the Detroit crowd with a mean look on his face. The middle fingers, of course, come back in full force as Duran walks down to the ring. “And his opponent,” Funyon starts, “from Champaign, Illinois and weighing in at two hundred and sixty-eight pounds...he is THE NOTORIOUS JOHN DURAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!” Hands reach for Duran too, but only to show Duran their defiant middle fingers. Duran calmly walks past all of them, having said his peace as soon as he emerged from the curtain and now coming to wrestle and wrestle only. Seeing that Xavier suddenly has his back turned to place his chain in the corner, the Notorious One rushes into tthe ring, sliding under the bottom rope and then quickly getting to his feet, slamming his arm into Xavier from behind, starting the sneak attack before Ced Ordonez can even react in time to call for the bell! DING DING DING! “Xavier has an almost sixty pound weight advantage on Duran, so it’s no wonder that John went for the sneak attack to start this match,” Comet analyzes with a hint of pity for Duran’s actions early on in the match. Duran turns Nathan around to face the Notorious One and then begins to bury his big black boots into the midsection of Nathan, trying to kick him down as Ordonez orders Duran to get out of the corner or face the consequences. Meanwhile, Riley doubts Comet’s earlier comments. “I think it’s more complex then that, Comet. Duran wants this match to be over as quickly as possible, because the longer Duran spends in the ring, the more he puts his neck on the line. Every match could be his last, Comet.” “I never really thought of Duran’s cowardness that way, Robert, but the fact that Duran’s neck could...fail...at any moment is certainly a very true statement.” Duran finally heeds the referee’s warnings--however meaningless they are in a match like this--and brings Nathan out of the corner by his arm, and then forcing Xavier to the opposite corner. Nathan bounces off the turnbuckles and staggers towards the center of the ring, as Duran runs forward from the other corner, running forward and catching Nathan right on the chin with a running forearm, knocking the big man down to the canvas. As soon as the forearm hits, Duran comes to a stop, and then mounts Nathan, pounding away at his face with right hands as Referee Ordonez is once again forced to get in Duran’s face to tell him to get off Xavier. Duran obliges immediately this time, backing off Nathan and throwing his arms in the air as if to plead his innocence. “Citizen Duran is showing a little fury early on in this match, as he pounded away on Nathan there for a good amount of time before the referee was able to peel him off!” “John Duran is more determined than ever to bring down a victory, whether or not Nathan Xavier is the legitimate opponent that Duran needs to get his shot at the SWF World Heavyweight Title! And what is with this referee anyway? Doesn’t he understand that the only way to win this match is by hitting your finishing move? Did he not get the memo?” After being reprimanded by the referee for his mounted punching, Duran completely disregards Referee Ordonez’ words and wastes no time in getting right back on Nathan, grabbing the back of Xavier’s head and bringing him back to his feet. Once Nathan reaches a vertical base, Duran quickly buries a knee into the breadbasket of Xavier, holding onto his big frame and bringing him forward for another knee to the stomach as the Notorious One goes to work on the midsection. “What a marvelous idea, Comet! He’s working over that stomach of Xavier to get all of that wind out of Nathan’s system, making him more susceptible to any of the moves in Duran’s arsenal!” “John is more focused than I’ve seen him in awhile, I think he recognizes the stakes that he’s put on the line here in this match, a match that he asked for, no less!” A third knee brings Xavier down on all fours, and Duran backs away from the fallen body of Nathan, jumping in the air and dropping his leg across the back of Nathan’s neck, slamming him face first into the mat. “See, Comet, normally Duran would go for a pinfall here, but he knows that this match is only going to end when he wrenches that neck of Xavier with the Blunt Force Trauma!” “Yeah, we know the rules of the match, Robert,” Comet responds bitingly. Duran gets right back to his feet, feeling the need for some rare showboating, asking the crowd “What do you think of him now?” The fans had never truly ceased their booing, and it picks up now as they make sure that Duran can still hear fine with their deafening boos. The boos begin to turn to cheers, however, as the fans notice that Xavier seems to have effectively shake off the early attack from Duran, and is looking to strike some blood. “Duran, turn around!” Riley tries frantically to warn Duran of the three hundred plus pound surprise that will be waiting for him when he turns back around. “He was focused up to this point, and now he’s about to pay for finally losing it to heckle these fans!” Finally, Duran realizes that not all is how it appears, and he turns around...right into a hard knee into the chest from Xavier! The Notorious One gets a taste of his own medicine as he is doubled over, only to be knocked over by a clubbing blow to his back from Nathan! John gets to taste the mat himself as the cheers grow for Xavier, and a smile finally appears on Sasha’s face at ringside, cheering her man on. “Nathan understands all about the importance of putting your opponent down early in a finisher match, and he seems to be doing a good job so far,” Comet commends. “I guess one knee from Nathan goes a long way, eh Comet?” responds Riley, who is not the least bit impressed by the momentum turn. Nevertheless, Duran is the one who is face down on the mat. Xavier is not finished with him yet, however, and brings The Notorious One back to his feet, grabbing him by the hair and ignoring the referee’s pleas to not use the hair. Nathan delivers yet another knee strike to the abdomen, sending Duran back into the turnbuckles. “That’s the last place that Citizen Duran wants to be,” Comet assures the viewing audience. “Nathan has that devastating avalanche in the corner that has been known to just crush his opponents, and it would certainly do the same to someone who is even as big as one John Duran!” Nathan doesn’t try to crush Duran in the corner, but instead falls back and brings his right leg up, pushing his boot against the windpipe of Duran and cutting off his air as the referee is literally powerless to do anything about it. The crowd eats it all up, despite it being a very illegal move on the part of Xavier. “This guy is a fan favorite?” Riley asks in shock. “How can a fan cheer for someone who just brutally chokes out his opponents like that!” As if on cue, Nathan decides to show mercy and stop choking his opponent, as Duran wraps his hands around his throat and begins to hack and wheeze, trying to get some air back in his lungs after having it cut off by the sizeable boot of the big Nathan Xavier. Sasha approves of the choking of John, and is even more pleased when Nathan decides to move to something a little bit more legal, putting his hands on either side of the turnbuckle and ramming his shoulders into the breadbasket of Duran! “You’d think his weak point was his stomach by the way Nathan is just ramming those shoulders in there,” Comet notes. “Nathan really should be going for the neck, as that will take Duran down faster, but I think he’s just looking for some revenge right now for earlier in the match.” “What does Sasha Edwards see in that man! She doesn’t even share his last name! There’s something wrong with that relationship, Comet.” “Oh, don’t start anything now, Robert, we know that you wouldn’t do anything about it if she came on to you with a sign on her back that said ‘Do Me.’” Riley is taken aback by Comet’s frank comments. “I think I need to go pray.” While Bobby takes a look to the skies above, Duran is praying that the shoulder thrusts from Nathan will stop, which they finally do after a handful of crushing shoulderblocks incinerate the midsection of the Notorious One. Xavier begins to toy with the former World Champion, grabbing him by the back of his jet black hair and shoving him face first out of the turnbuckle, humiliating John as he falls face first again, unable to break his fall due to the wind-sucking shoulder bursts in the corner. “Citizen Duran is already sucking wind in this match, Robert! I knew that he had some time off after that 13th Hour, but you’d think he’d be used to these big guys roughing him up since his return against Grand Slam Mark Stevens mere weeks ago!” “It takes time to get back into the groove, Comet. By the time Duran gets his shot at the World Heavyweight Title at Genesis, he’ll be ready to roll against whoever is at the top of the mountain at that time. He beat Charlie Matthews, I think he can take someone the likes of Johnny Dangerous or...hell, even Toxxic!” Duran is showing signs of movement, but Xavier remains on the offensive, bringing John back to his feet once again and then bending down to lift the Notorious One of his feet, pressing him above his head! The crowd cheers wildly as they watch Duran flail above the strong arms of Nathan Xavier! “Citizen Duran is no lightweight, but you wouldn’t know it from the way that Xavier is absolutely manhandling him right now!” Nathan feels a little cocky and simply steps forward before dropping Duran behind him, landing face first again. This time, John rolls on his back to hold his pain-filled face in his hands, getting roughed up by the big man and perhaps thinking that he bit off a lot more than he could possibly chew, especially with the recent losing streak. Meanwhile, Xavier looks confident as he gives the thumbs up to the crowd and then to his wife at ringside, who is looking as cheery as ever with this recent surge of power taking down Duran. Nathan begins to pick Duran up to his feet again, clubbing him in the back with his big forearms when the Notorious One begins to put up some resistance, not wanting to be on his feet again for fear of what Xavier might do next. Before Nathan can get Duran to his feet again, John acts quickly and sends his arm low, WHAM! “OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” and sending an uppercut right to the lower nutsack region of Nathan Xavier! The crowd is very displeased at such a powerful man being outsmarted by Duran, but sympathize his pain as Xavier falls to the mat and Duran rises to his feet slowly, still holding his face in pain from taking such a punishment. “Sasha Edwards can’t be too happy about that,” Riley cackles, “I hope that they’re not planning on making babies anytime soon, because I think if they are, it might be time to whip out that raincheck! Either that or Duran can give her a little loving after the show if her man can’t satisfy her.” “Robert, that’s a terrible and unlawful thing to say! How can you wish such things to happen to Citizen Nathan?” “I guess I’m just a bad man, Comet.” After turning the pace of the match with that one blow to the Xavier family jewels, Duran learns from his lesson and doesn’t bother showboating, instead taking his aggression out of the pain in his face and stomping away at the back of Xavier’s neck; cold, calculating strikes that hit their mark everytime! “He’s trying to flatten his neck into a pancake!” Comet cries. “Are those pancakes any good out west in California?” Riley once again releases an evil chuckle. Duran moves from stomps to kneedrops, leaping in the air and slamming the knee on the back of Nathan’s neck, as some members of the crowd cringe at the sight of John’s kneecap contacting such a tender area. After a couple more kneedrops, Duran finally begins to bring Xavier to his feet, ignoring the loud jeers of the crowd as he holds onto Nathan’s head, turning Nathan’s and his body so that they both face away from each other, and then sits out quickly, slamming Nathan’s neck into the shoulder blade of the Notorious One, as the crowd continues to boo vehemently at the former World Champion. “And so begins the meticulous attack on the neck that Duran is now known for, Robert.” “I’ve been waiting to see this all night, Comet! The way he handles that neck with such precision, treating it as if it was a fine piece of china!” “...That he was trying to break into a million pieces.” “Right, right. Million pieces.” Duran swings his body around to the downed body of Xavier, quickly wrapping his hands around the throat of Nathan and beginning to clench his hand down on his throat, tightening his grip as Xavier wildly tries to break the choke, knowing that the ref can only plead with Duran to show some reason and realize that he cannot get a tapout in this match--not that he would get it in a regular match either, since the choking is most certainly illegal in every sense of the word. John gets a strange look in his eyes as he whips his head up and makes sure Sasha is watching him choke the life out of his husband, who is currently clubbing away at John’s back. Duran is driven to choke the hell out of Xavier, but a third blow to the back finally gets Duran to break the choke. Duran quickly bends down and brings the fiesty Nathan back to his feet, grabbing his arm and hurling the big man across the ring to the near ropes. Duran immediately moves forward, slamming his arm into the neck of Xavier with a clothesline and sending him right over the top rope, as Nathan falls in front of the announcing table! “Oh, and the action is going right out in front of us, as Duran has just dumped Nathan to the outside!” Comet...comettates (~) as the action begins to get closer and closer to his announcing position. “Remember, fans, this match can end anywhere! Duran can hit his finisher on the top of a car in the Joe Louis Arena parking lot, it doesn’t matter, because all it takes is that one move, Robert.” “That’s exactly right, Comet, that’s what makes this match so dangerous and yet so winnable for Duran! He knows hardcore; he doesn’t embrace it like he used to, but if Xavier’s going to get rough with him tonight, you can expect that he will be ten times as rough with the happy hubby.” Nathan having tumbled to the floor, Duran goes through the ropes and jumps off the apron, getting in Xavier’s face and talking trash at him for awhile as the camera gets in nice and tight on Duran’s face jawing with Nathan. Duran caps it off by slapping in Xavier’s face and then grabbing him by the back of the head and bringing him to his feet. When Nathan is finally up, Duran wraps his arms around him, but it’s not in a friendly embrace, as Duran quickly lifts Xavier up, turning swiftly to his right and dropping Xavier down rudely with a sharply quick belly-to-belly suplex, slamming Xavier down back first on the barely protected ringside area floor. John rises back to his feet after the move, craning his head around and noticing that Sasha is watching intently, hoping that his husband can find a way to fight back. The Notorious One and Sasha finally meet eyes, and Duran gets that strange look in his eyes again. Sasha’s eyes immediately widen in fear, noticing that she’s probably a little too close to Duran as she slowly begins to back away from John. However, Duran is advancing faster, and by the time that Nathan’s wife begins to move a little faster, Duran has already caught up, grabbing her by the hair! “Citizen Duran is a sadist!” Comet screams into his headset. “This is just unacceptable! He’s taken out Sasha Edwards’ husband on the other side of the ring, and now he’s going to do something terrible to Sasha herself!” “She should have never been that close, Comet,” Riley disagrees, “she is a very non-confrontational person, but Duran has no bones about roughing up this woman!” The crowd begins to heavily boo Duran as the Notorious One throws the thrashing Sasha into the ring! The crowd is in shock as Duran quickly follows, and catches Sasha before she can crawl her way out of the ring. John brings Sasha back to her feet, and then makes a throat-cutting signal with his finger, signaling that he’s going for the-- “BLUNT FORCE TRAUMA!” Riley squeals with glee, “this is going to be excellent, Comet! Watch this and observe as Duran ends the finisher match in his own way...on Nathan’s wife!” “Nathan’s not completely out!” is all Comet can say as he watches Xavier begin to crawl to his feet, catching his bearings as he looks over the apron and notices Duran assaulting his wife...and Nathan immediately springs into action! Duran goes behind Sasha to lift her up onto his shoulders, as Nathan pushes Funyon out of his chair and grabs that chair! Duran looks at the crowd showing their disapproval and then goes for the BFT... ..right as Xavier comes up and slams the chair into the head of Duran! “What the hell is that Neanderthal doing,” Riley yells. “Someone get that man into a straitjacket, because he’s gone nuts!” The chairshot echoes in the Joe Louis Arena as Duran crumples to the mat and Sasha runs away quickly, scattering under the bottom rope and returning to the corner of his man as quickly as possible, breathing heavily as she just dodged a bullet thanks to her quick-thinking--and extremely strong--husband. Nathan doesn’t relent, however, and continues to slam the chair into the body and head of Duran, swinging it up and down. CLANK CLANK CLANK The crowd is going apeshit as Nathan pulverizes Duran with the chair. “Someone get that monster off Duran!” Riley demands to no one. “He’s hit Duran with that chair more than a handful of times!” After eight shots with the chair after the initial blow to the head, Nathan finally tosses the chair aside, breathing heavily and having gotten the anger out of his eyes. Sasha still looks as scared as ever, but a hint of relief is crossing over her face. Nathan quickly grabs Duran and brings John up to a vertical base, before putting his skull underneath Duran’s chin, wrapping his hands over the Notorious One’s head and dropping down quickly with a jawbreaker as Duran’s neck is forced back hard, creating a whiplash effect as he stumbles back up to a standing position, holding his neck in pain and leaning against the ropes. Nathan then grabs Duran’s arm, pushing him against the ropes and then whipping him out... ...before bringing him right back in and slamming a clothesline into the neck of Duran, sending John right back down to the mat! As soon as Duran hits, he escapes the ring by rolling under the bottom rope, holding his neck in obvious pain as he walks around the ringside area, fans taunting him and throwing middle fingers at him. Nathan is unrelenting, however, as he leaves the ring and goes around to where his cast-iron chain is, grabbing that before advancing on Duran. He wraps it around his fist, looking to unload a punch right into the kisser of Duran as he rounds the final corner and comes face to face with Duran...well, at least soon, as Duran has his back turned to Nathan. The fans cheer and beg Xavier to just get it over with and suckerpunch Duran in the back of the head. “He’s got that chain, Robert, and he certainly knows how to use it!” “Duran has to know he’s there, Comet!” Riley says with a hint of doubt in his voice. “If he doesn’t, then he’s in for some serious trouble!” John finally turns around as Nathan comes forward, swinging his chain-covered right hand at Duran... ...but Duran ducks! “Yes!” Riley triumphantly cheers. Nathan’s momentum and his promixity to the ringpost sends his fist so far away from Duran that it crashes into the ringpost! THUD “OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Xavier’s hand immediately snaps back from the force of the punch and the immovable ringpost meeting. Sasha looks worried after the hand-to-post contact, but stays across from the action as she still looks scared straight from the earlier attack from Duran. Duran, meanwhile, rolls into the ring, keeping his eyes on Xavier as Nathan shakes the pain off his hand--and also the chain--and rolls back into the ring himself. Duran isn’t honorable enough to let Nathan get to his feet, however, and stomps away at his defenseless body as it enters the ring. Nathan is slowly getting to his feet, however, trying to not let the stompings affect him, so Duran runs across the ring, bouncing off the ropes and rebounding right back. Duran puts his arm up for yet another clothesline.... ...but Nathan stops him dead in his tracks by wrapping an arm around Duran’s neck, pushing him up into the air and sweeping out Duran’s left leg, dropping him down with a stalling STO! “RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” The fans are quickly rallying behind Nathan as Duran is showing no movement on the canvas. Meanwhile, Nathan signals that this is the end of the match! “Duran is going to face the Flatliner unless he comes to his senses soon!” Comet notes, getting excited to see if Duran’s losing streak will continue. The Notorious One is slowly getting to his feet, and Nathan speeds up the process by bringing him to a vertical base... ...right as Duran digs his fingers into Xavier’s eyes! The crowd immediately boos at the perfectly legal eye rake, as Nathan stumbles about, dazed at his temporary loss of sight. Duran grabs the near arm of Nathan’s and tries to whip him towards the turnbuckle...but Xavier reverses! The fans are excited once again as Duran slams back-first into the turnbuckle, and Nathan regains his vision and backs up to the opposite corner before charging forward! “He’s going for that big avalanche in the corner!” Comet happily decrees. “No!” Riley disagrees, but the inevitable is coming. Nathan is rumbling towards Duran, and finally looks to engulf him in the turnbuckle...but at the last possible second, Duran moves! Holding his neck, he manages to escape from the turnbuckle as Xavier leaps forward and slams himself face first into the top turnbuckle, immediately sending him backwards...right into the waiting arms of Duran! Duran bends over and grunts as he lifts Xavier off his feet and onto his shoulders! “YES! YES! YESYESYESYESYES!” Riley screams orgasmically as Duran hoists Xavier up for the Blunt Force Trauma! Sasha is begging for this match not to end this way, and Duran actually falters a step, almost dropping Xavier off his shoulders! “He won’t be able to hit it, Robert, his neck is going to snap!” “No it won’t, no it won’t!” Riley contends. Duran finally lets out a scream and then whips Nathan’s legs out from behind him and comes down hard onto his backbone. WHAM! “BLUNT FORCE TRAUMA! THAT’S IT!” Riley explodes as Ordonez turns to the ringkeeper and frantically calls for the bell to end this crazy match...and Duran’s losing streak. DING DING DING! The crowd is none too happy as Funyon announces the winner, still standing after losing his chair to the angered Xavier. “Here is your winner, the NOTORIOUS JOHN DURAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!” “What a convoluted sequence there at the end from both men,” Comet says, amazed. “Nathan was looking for the big finish but he just couldn’t get it no matter how hard he tried, and one final mistake allowed Duran to capitalize for good and hit that Blunt Force Trauma!” As Nathan leaves the ringside area with a still-bewildered Sasha at his side, Duran is kicking his legs up and down on the mat and holding the back of his head. “John’s in pain, Comet,” Riley observes from his commentating post, and the referee raises Duran’s hand, but John quickly yanks it away, putting it back onto his neck as the camera gets a closeup of his pained face. “Let’s go to break,” Comet quickly says. Sure enough, but too suddenly, Storm goes to commercial break as medical assistants rush down the aisle and slide into the ring to tend to Duran.

Michael Anderson is limping through the hallways of the Joe Louis Arena, leaning heavily on his cane for support, when he hears his cell phone go off. He comes to a stop in order to retrieve it from his pocket, and then flips it open before he continues walking. “Anderson here… yeah… well, it’s your own fault, taking him too lightly.” Despite the viewer only being able to hear one half of the conversation, one would assume that he is speaking to his client, the Birdman, who just lost to “The Real Deal” Ryan Dustin for the second straight time. “Now, you’re going to have to start back at the bottom of the ladder…” Anderson remains silent as he rounds a corner, listening to the voice on the other end. “Well, does anyone around here owe you a favor?” “…” Anderson almost stops short as he hears the other voice. “You want me to ask him ? Well, I’m on my way there right now, anyway, but are you sure you want me to ask him about that? I mean, you still want his help with the target, right?” “…” “But, I thought you wanted him to have plausible deniability when I asked him for help with the target,” says Anderson. “If I try to call in this favor, it’s probably not going to take him long to…” “…” “Alright, fine,” sighs Anderson. “I’ll come up with something. That is what you pay me for, I guess.” “…” “Yeah. Don’t worry about it,” says Anderson. “I’ll take care of it. I’ll go talk to Zenon as soon as I leave here.” “…” “I said I got it,” sighs Anderson. “Just make sure you get out of here without being seen… Yeah… I’ll let you know what Zenon says.” With that, Anderson stops walking, having arrived at his destination, and closes his cell phone before slipping it back into his pocket. “That kid is starting to become more trouble than he’s worth,” he mutters to himself, as he knocks on the door in front of him. It swings out, leaving the occupant obscured from the camera’s view. “Thanks for meeting with me,” says Anderson, as he walks into the room, closing the door behind him.

“Welcome back to Storm,” says Cyclone Comet. “And coming up next, we’ve got the Number One contender to the World Cruiserweight Championship, the “Real Deal” Ryan Dustin, taking on the Birdman in singles competition! Just last week ago on Lockdown, Dustin beat Birdman in a match to BECOME the Number One contender, and Birdman requested a rematch against the Real Deal, that’s going to happen here tonight!” “This match is crucial for Ryan Dustin,” says Bobby Riley. “He barely pulled off that win against Birdman last week, and he needs to win here tonight in order to prove that it wasn’t a fluke!” “He definitely needs a big win here if he wants to have any momentum going into his match with the Cruiserweight Champion,” agrees Comet. “He could get a big boost going into Genesis with a strong showing here tonight!” Inside the ring, Funyon stands holding the microphone, waiting to receive his cue from the speaker planted inside his ear. He raises the microphone to his lips and says, “Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall, with a fifteen-minute time limit!” LEEEET’S GET RETARDED… IN HEEEEEEEEERE! The Detroit fans become excited as the Black Eyed Peas “Let’s Get Retarded” starts playing: In this context, There's no disrespect, So, when I bust my rhyme, You break your necks. We got five minutes for us to disconnect, From all intellect, Collect the rhythm effect… Suddenly, the Birdman bursts from behind the curtain onto the stage, his costume having gray feathers, with a rust-red belly and a dark gray mask, symbolizing the colors of the Michigan state bird, the American Robin. He dances down towards the ring, slapping hands with the fans at ringside as he descends the ramp. “Making his way to the ring at this time,” says Funyon, “from parts unknown, weighing two hundred nineteen pounds, the BIIIIIRDMAAAAAN!” Birdman slides into the ring and pops to his feet, flapping his cloth “wings” as twenty-thousand fans begin chanting his name: BIIIIRD-MAN! BIIIIRD-MAN! BIIIIRD-MAN! BIIIIRD-MAN! “The Birdman doesn’t look any the worse for wear after his last appearance on SWF television,” notes Comet. “In fact, he looks just as happy to be performing for the fans as he always does!” “Then he’s an idiot,” replies Bobby. “If he had any brains, he would focus on winning this match and trying to climb back up the Cruiserweight rankings; if he loses to Dustin again, he’s going to have a long road to climb to get back up the ladder!” Birdman removes his hard plastic headpiece, revealing the matching mask underneath, and hands it to the attendant at ringside, along with his cloth “wings.” He begins to bounce back and forth on his feet nervously as the lights dim and his music fades out. Dirty Dog I'm, I'm a dirty dog I'm a dirty dog I'm, I'm a dirty dog Dirty Dog I'm a dirty dog Dirty Dog I'm an outlaw (I'm an outlaw) Quick on the draw (Quick on the draw) Somethin' you've never seen before (Never Seen) And I dare a motherfucker to come in my face I got somethin' chrome (I got somethin' Chrome) And I got it from home (I got it from home) And it ain't a microphone (Ain't it a mic!) And I dare a motherfucker to come in my face The Joe Louis Arena goes crazy as “Lapdance” by N.E.R.D. begins to play, signaling the arrival of Ryan Dustin. The Real Deal steps out onto the stage and into the spotlight, dressed as usual in his signature extended length red camouflage jacket. He crosses his hands in front of him in his signature pose and then holds them above his head at the top of the ramp before he begins to make his way down to ringside. “His opponent,” says Funyon, “from Carson City, Nevada, weighing in at two hundred twenty-eight pounds, the ‘Real Deal,’ RYYYYYAN DUSSSTIN!” Funyon walks towards the ropes and exits to the arena floor as the Real Deal makes his way to the ring. He walks up the steel stairs and walks across the apron, climbing onto a nearby turnbuckle and turning his attention towards his opponent in the ring, sizing him up with his self-made “picture frame.” “There he is,” says Comet excitedly. “The Number One Contender to Tom Flesher’s Cruiserweight Championship! He looks extraordinarily confident here tonight!” “Well, it’s amazing what a couple of wins can do for your self-esteem,” says Riley, as Ryan backflips into the ring. “A couple of weeks ago, Dustin looked like he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. But, you’re right, Comet; ever since becoming the Number One Contender to the Cruiserweight Title, he HAS been brimming with a quiet confidence. He even stands straighter! It’s like he actually believes that he has what it takes to upset the legendary Tom Flesher…” “Absolutely right,” agrees Comet. “… Even though he doesn’t,” finishes Riley. “Will you stop?” Dustin removes his jacket and hands it over the top rope to the attendant at ringside. He turns to face the Birdman as his music fades out, and referee Brent Dunn motions to the referee to ring the bell, signifying the start of the match: DING! DING! DING! “Bell’s gone,” says Comet, “and we’re underway!” Birdman and Dustin circle each other before locking up in the center of the ring. Birdy quickly gains the advantage, reaching across his body with his left arm and hooking it underneath Ryan’s left arm, before falling backwards as he snaps Dustin over with a quick armdrag! Both men get back to their feet immediately and begin to size each other up again. They meet for another lockup, and this time, Ryan takes the advantage, quickly shifting into a side headlock. Birdy guides the Real Deal towards the edge of the ring and uses the ropes to help him propel Dustin away from him and shoot him across the ring. Birdman leaps high into the air as Dustin bounces off the ropes, deftly leapfrogging him and immediately springing back off the mat the second his feet touch down, performing a “no-look” leapfrog reminiscent of Jimmy Snuka as Ryan rebounds a second time. Birdman takes a step towards Dustin, meeting him as he bounces off the ropes a third time, and hooks his left arm underneath that of the Real Deal’s… WHAM! … And jerks him through the air abruptly, sending him crashing to the mat on his back with a beautiful deep arm drag! “Birdman has gotten this match off to a good start,” notes Comet, as Birdy transitions seamlessly into an arm-wringer. “He’s trying to vary his attack up a little from the last time these two faced each other.” “It’s always smart strategy to keep your opponent guessing,” agrees Riley. “Even if it was probably done by accident, which is likely in Bird-brain’s case!” Birdman stands up and pulls Dustin to his feet. Still holding onto the arm wringer, the Bird shifts his grip towards Ryan’s wrist, and gives his arm one more good twist before leading him into a neutral corner. He gracefully leaps up to the top turnbuckle and begins to walk across the top rope while still holding onto Ryan’s wrist, stopping mid-way through and leaping back into the ring, landing in a seated position on Dustin’s shoulders. Suddenly, Birdman locks his legs behind Dustin’s head and arches backwards, snatching the Real Deal off the mat and sending him tumbling over the top rope… CRASH! … And down to the arena floor with a scintillating hurricanrana! “What an amazing hurricanrana by the Birdman,” shouts Comet. “He’s off to an amazing start this week!” “That should be a disqualification,” barks Riley. “He threw Dustin over the top rope!” “That was really more of a momentum move than him actually being thrown over the top rope,” replies Comet. “Besides, I think that the referee may be inclined to let it slide, since they BOTH went over the top!” Birdman climbs back onto the ring apron and waits for the Real Deal to get back to his feet before leaping onto the middle rope and then springing back off… SPLASH! … Flipping backwards as he crashes into Dustin with an Asai Moonsault! Referee Dunn begins his twenty-count as both men roll around on the floor: ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! “Birdman wasting no time taking the match outside,” notes Riley. “He may be feeling some desperation on his part to get the win here!” “Well, as you said, Robert,” replies Comet, “Birdman needs this win just as much as Citizen Dustin; perhaps even more so, as a loss here could send him back down to the bottom of the Cruiserweight rankings!” Birdman beats Dustin to his feet and rolls back into the ring, waiting on his opponent to return. EIGHT! NINE! TEN! ELEVEN! Finally, Dustin gets to his feet and begins to stumble back towards the ring. As he pulls himself onto the apron, Birdy runs to the nearby corner, leaping to the top turnbuckle, and waiting for Ryan to resume a standing position before leaping off the turnbuckle towards the outside of the ring… CRASH! … Crashing into the Real Deal and sending them both back to the arena floor with a death-defying corkscrew moonsault! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! “What an amazing maneuver by the Birdman,” shouts Comet. Once again, he puts his body on the line to try and do damage to his opponent!” “This guy’s a lunatic,” snaps Riley, as both men roll around on the floor. “He just took a dive from ten feet in the air down to the concrete floor, and for what? Just to do a little damage to Ryan Dustin? Now he has to worry about how much damage he just did to himself!” FIVE! SIX! SEVEN! EIGHT! NINE! Both men remain unmoving for several seconds, but Birdman is once again first to his feet. He staggers towards the edge of the ring and rolls underneath the bottom rope as the referee continues his count: THIRTEEN! FOURTEEN! FIFTEEN! Finally, Dustin rolls onto his knees and starts to crawl towards the edge of the ring. Hearing the referee’s count, he uses the ring apron to pull himself back up: SEVENTEEN! EIGHTEEN! NINETEEN! Before the referee reaches twenty, Dustin manages to pull himself back onto the apron, stopping the count. Birdman greets him as he tries to stand up, reaching over the top rope to pull him to his feet. The Bird then leads Ryan to the corner and slams his head into the turnbuckle! He climbs up the turnbuckles from inside the ring, and begins to pull Dustin up the turnbuckles from the outside. “Birdman looks like he’s setting Dustin up for a big-time maneuver,” says Comet. “If he hits whatever it is he’s going for, this match could very well be over!” Midway up the turnbuckles, however, Ryan begins fighting back, hammering Birdman with stiff Shotei to the chest until he falls off of the turnbuckle back into the ring. Birdy rolls backwards onto his feet, but before he has time to react… WHAM! … Dustin climbs all the way to the top turnbuckle and immediately springs off, diving feet-first into the ring and blasting Birdman in the chest with a spectacular missile dropkick! Both men get to their feet slowly, with Birdman appearing to have more energy as he approaches Dustin, but the Real Deal surprises him again, hooking him around the upper waist and popping his hips suddenly as he takes Birdy off his feet… WHAM! … And slams him onto his head with an amazing T-Bone suplex! “What a spectacular comeback by Ryan Dustin,” shouts Comet. “He’s survived the early onslaught by the Birdman and fought all the way back into this match!” Ryan pulls Birdman away from the corner and applies a weak pin as referee Dunn drops down to make the count: ONE! TWO! THR—NO! LET’S GO, BIRDMAN! LET’S GO, DUSTIN! LET’S GO, BIRDMAN! LET’S GO, DUSTIN! LET’S GO, BIRDMAN! LET’S GO, DUSTIN! LET’S GO, BIRDMAN! LET’S GO, DUSTIN! LET’S GO, BIRDMAN! LET’S GO, DUSTIN! “The crowd is very clearly divided in their support for these two fine competitors,” says Comet. “That was very nearly a big win by Dustin,” says Riley. “Now let’s find out how effective he is at going on the offensive!” Dustin pulls Birdman to his feet as he measures him for a wicked European uppercut! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! Dustin continues to lay into Birdman with heavy European uppercuts, hoping to soften him up for a critical blow, before hooking him underneath the armpits and snatching him off the canvas… SLAM! … And slamming him back down with a Sambo suplex. This time, Ryan hooks the leg as he applies a cover: ONE! TWO! THR—NO! … But Birdman again kicks out! Dustin pulls Birdman back to his feet and forces him into the corner, where he immediately climbs to the second turnbuckle and begins to hammer Birdy repeatedly in the face: ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FIVE! SIX! SEVEN! EIGHT! NINE! TEN! Dustin pulls Birdman out of the corner and allows him to fall to the mat before positioning him flush with the corner. Ryan then runs past his opponent towards the corner and leaps onto the top rope, bouncing twice before flipping gracefully back into the ring… SPLASH! … Crashing onto Birdman’s chest with his patented double-jump moonsault! “A Real Classic by Ryan Dustin,” exclaims Comet. “This could be enough right here!” Dustin applies a lateral press as the referee makes his count: ONE! TWO! THREE! NO! BIRDMAN BARELY GETS THE SHOULDER UP! The crowd begins to cheer Birdman anew, showing their support for his fighting spirit! “You’ve got to give credit to Birdman,” says Comet. “He’s a fierce competitor, and he’s not going to go down without a HELL of a fight!” “I don’t have to give that idiot credit for anything,” replies Riley. “If he wasn’t so obsessed with doing crazy maneuvers in the ring, he’d still be in control of this match!” Dustin stands up and pulls Birdman to his feet… BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! … When the crowd, who begin booing almost in unison, suddenly distracts him! Dustin looks around frantically, trying to discover the reason for their sudden animosity, when he spies a figure descending the ramp: “What the hell is he doing here,” barks Comet, as he notices ‘The Superior One,’ Tom Flesher, making his way down towards the ring. “Isn’t it obvious,” replies Bobby. “He’s come to scout his opposition! Not that he really needs to, as Dustin isn’t on Tom Flesher’s level, anyway, but he certainly has the prerogative as the champion. Besides, maybe if we’re lucky, he’ll grace us with his presence!” “Oh yeah,” says Comet sarcastically. “Lucky.” Dustin’s attention has been completely diverted towards the Cruiserweight Champion, following him with his eyes as he walks around the ring. “This is reprehensible,” growls Comet. “Tom Flesher has taken Citizen Dustin’s attention away from the Birdman; he’s totally disrupted the flow of this match!” Dustin leans over the edge of the ring and begins to bark at Flesher, demanding that he leave ringside, but the Superior One ignores him as he continues to walk around the ring, towards the announce table. Suddenly, Birdman crawls up behind Dustin, capitalizing on his distraction to hook the Real Deal around the inner thigh and pull him backwards into a schoolboy pin! ONE! TWO! THRE— KICKOUT! With a smirk over the near-fall, Flesher finally arrives at the announce table, where Riley has already risen from his seat and dusted it off, offering it to the Cruiserweight Champion. “Stand up, Comet,” he says. “Can’t you see that we’re about to be blessed by the presence of the World Cruiserweight Champion?” Comet, however, refuses to get up, and only glances briefly towards Flesher before turning his attention back to the ring. “We appear to be joined at this time at the announce table by the SWF World Cruiserweight Champion, Tom Flesher,” he says, without a trace of enthusiasm. Back inside the ring, Dustin beats Birdman to his feet and stuns him with another European uppercut before whipping him to the ropes, but he puts his head down as Birdman rebounds… CRACK! … And pays for it, as the Bird traps Dustin in a front facelock as he bounces off the ropes and twists around suddenly, driving the Real Deal into the mat with a swinging neckbreaker! “Why thank you, Comet,” Flesher says mockingly as he puts on a pair of headphones. “Isn’t this a wonderful night to watch two fine cruiserweights fighting tooth and nail?” “It certainly was, until you showed up,” snaps Comet. “Isn’t it enough that you’ve already almost cost Dustin this match?” “Hey,” barks Riley, coming to Flesher’s defense like a well-trained lapdog. “He didn’t cost Dustin anything! He didn’t even lay a hand on him!” Birdy pulls Dustin to his feet and steps behind him, locking both hands underneath his chin and placing both knees behind Ryan’s head as he leaps up and jumps backwards… CRACK! … Jamming his knees into the back of Dustin’s neck as he falls to the mat with a modified neckbreaker! “Both knees into the back of the neck,” shouts Comet, trying his best to ignore both Flesher and Riley. “That was almost like a reverse Bird-Breaker!” “Hey, take it easy,” says Flesher. “I just thought I’d come down to take a look at my next challenger in the ring, to see what I’ll be up against, and I have to say, I’m not very impressed so far!” Birdman gets back to his feet slowly and pulls Dustin up as well, trapping him in a front facelock before suddenly popping his hips the moment that he grabs onto Ryan’s leg… WHAM! … Taking Dustin over and planting him into the mat with a snap suplex! “Snap suplex by Citizen Bird,” says Comet, “and it appears that the Birdman may be looking to fly here!” Sure enough, Birdy rolls back to his feet and runs over to the edge of the ring, exiting to the ring apron and climbing to the top turnbuckle. For the first time in the match, Birdman makes his signature call to the crowd: Birdman: CAW-CAW! Crowd: CAW-CAW! WHAM! … Before leaping fearlessly off the top turnbuckle, and crashing down into Dustin with his patented suicide headbutt! “Bird Bomb,” exclaims Riley. “And he got all of it! I can’t see Ryan Dustin kicking out of this!” Birdman applies a lateral press, but fails to hook the leg as referee Hardcastle delivers the count: ONE! TWO! THRE— NO! DUSTIN GETS THE SHOULDER UP! The Detroit crowd begins to cheer wildly as Dustin kicks out of Birdman’s nonchalant cover “Citizen Dustin still has some fighting spirit,” proclaims Comet. “Well, it’s a good thing,” replies Flesher. “I mean, if I’m going to have to defend my title against this guy, I’d like to at least break a sweat; if he would have went down to a headbutt, he wouldn’t stand a chance against me… not that he will, anyway…” “Hah hah,” laughs Riley. “That’s a good one, Champ!” ”Why, thank you, Robert,” says Flesher. “Say, would you be a good man and bring me some coffee?” “Sure thing, Champ! Right away,” replies Riley, as he removes his headset and sprints backstage. Inside the ring, Birdman gets to his feet and makes his way over to the corner, where he climbs deliberately to the top turnbuckle as he waits for the Real Deal to recover. “Birdman returns to his favorite perch,” says Comet. “You never know what he’s going to do from up there!” Dustin gets to his feet, looking around for his opponent, but by the time he locates him, it’s too late… WHAM! … As Birdman leaps from the top turnbuckle and traps the Real Deal in a front chancery as he flies overhead, driving him down into the canvas with a spectacular flipping neckbreaker! “Spectacular Blockbuster-style neckbreaker by the Birdman,” exclaims Comet, as Birdy gets to his feet and begins to dance. “Citizen Dustin is down and out… But, why won’t he pin him?” “Because he’s an idiot, that’s why,” snaps Tom angrily. “This guy is an embarrassment to any self-respecting wrestler; I’m almost glad that Dustin won the title shot, just so that I won’t have to soil my hands with that cretin!” Birdy runs towards the ropes and begins to dance the Funky Chicken as he bounces off the ropes, hopping off the mat as he approaches the Real Deal… WHAM! … And drives a fistdrop into his skull! “Funky Funky Fistdrop by the Birdman,” shrieks Comet. “Birdman with a little bit of showmanship!” Birdman collapses over Dustin and applies another cover: ONE! TWO! THREE— NO! “Only a two-count,” shouts Comet, as Dustin barely gets the shoulder up. Birdman stands up and pulls Ryan to his feet, grabbing him by the wrist and whipping him towards the ropes. Birdy leaps into the air as he bounces off the ropes… WHAM! … But Dustin snatches him out of the air and spins around quickly on his heel, compressing Birdman’s spine against his extended thigh with his patented Atomic Drop/spinebuster combination! “The Bona-Fide Thriller,” cries Comet. “Ryan Dustin pulled that out of NOWHERE!” The Bona-Fide Thriller gives Dustin a few more seconds of recovery, which pays dividends, as he is able to beat the Bird to his feet and spring into action, swinging his leg swiftly off the mat… THWACK! … And nearly decapitating Birdman with a jumping sidekick! Birdman rolls out of the ring to recover and the Oklahoma faithful begin to cheer the Real Deal with renewed intensity: DUST-IN! DUST-IN! DUST-IN! DUST-IN! “What an amazing turn of events for Ryan Dustin,” exclaims Comet. “He appears to have once again survived the brunt of Birdman’s offense, and now has the opportunity to again put himself firmly in control of this match!” Dustin grasps onto the top rope as Birdman gets to his feet outside the ring and leaps out of the ring! SPLASH! … Sailing down to the arena floor and crashing into the Birdman with a sensational plancha! “That was an impressive maneuver,” concedes Tom, “but he’s going to have to be able to come better than that if he wants to get the better of me… why, thank you, Robert!” With almost comical timing, Bobby returns to the ring just as Flesher utters the word “come,” pushing a sterling silver coffee service, and serves the Cruiserweight Champion his coffee. “Two sugars,” says Flesher, as he looks warily at Riley. “No cream.” Meanwhile, Dustin, not one to resort to chicanery outside the ring, pulls Birdman to his feet and promptly rolls him back into the ring, sliding in behind him and applying a cover: ONE! TWO! THRE—NO! “Two count, only,” says Comet. “But Birdman is definitely fighting from the defensive right now!” Dustin pulls Birdy to his feet and stuns him with a Shotei to the chest before stepping to his side and grabbing him underneath the knee, lifting him off the mat… WHAM! … And falling backwards, slamming him back down with a teardrop suplex! Ryan floats over and hooks the leg as he tries to get the pin: ONE! TWO! THREE! NO! “I can’t believe it,” breathes Comet. “Birdman barely got the left shoulder up!” Dustin lays Birdman flat against the mat again and tries to get the pin a second time: ONE! TWO! THRE— KICKOUT! “Another kickout by the Birdman,” says Comet. “But, unless he can come up with another big time move, he’s not going to prevail in this match!” Ryan pulls Birdman to his feet and whips him to the ropes, and the Bird leaps into the air as he bounces off the ropes locking his legs around Dustin’s neck and swings around to deliver a flying headscissors… WHAM! … But the Real Deal counters the headscissors attempt, smashing Birdman with a tilt-a-whirl backbreaker! “Tilt-a-whirl,” comments Riley. “That could be the beginning of the end right there!” Dustin rolls to the edge of the ring and uses the ropes to pull himself to his feet, leaping onto the turnbuckles as he prepares to deliver his patented Star-Dustin Press! “Uh oh,” moans Comet. “He could be going for the Star-Dustin Press! He put Birdman away with this move last week, and it could very well spell doom for him once again!” Ryan flips backwards off of the turnbuckle, twisting as he flies through the air… CRASH! … But Birdman rolls out of the way just as he is about to land, causing him to crash into the mat! “He missed,” shouts Comet. “Well, of course he did,” snaps Flesher. “Just how many times did he think Birdman was going to let him beat him with that move? It’s called going too the well too many times, Comet. Even an idiot like Birdman is going to figure it out sooner or later!” “Yeah,” chimes Riley. “You tell him, Champ!” “At any rate,” continues Comet, “It’s anybody’s match at this point!” Dustin, still the slightly fresher man, beats Birdman to his feet and whips him into the ropes, leaping into the air as he rebounds to apply a Thesz press… CRASH! … But the Birdman dives to the mat, somersaulting underneath the Real Deal and popping to his feet behind him as Dustin crashes to the mat. Springing into action, Birdy, pulls Ryan to his feet and whips him into the corner, rushing in after him and leaping into the air as he approaches the corner… SPLASH! … To crash into him with the Stinger Splash! Birdman steps back and waits for Dustin to stagger towards him before doubling him over with a kick to the midsection. He hooks the outside leg as he attempts to lift him into his patented Bird-Breaker finisher, but the Real Deal blocks his attempts to lift him until he’s able to reverse it, twisting his and Birdman’s bodies around until their backs are to each other, while maintaining a hold of Birdman’s neck, and then suddenly rushing towards the corner… WHAM! … Falling to the mat as he nails Birdman with the REAL DEAL! “By Zeus,” shouts Comet, as he gets to his feet. “The Real Deal! That came out of NOWHERE!” Dustin rolls over and hooks Birdman’s leg as the referee drops down to cover: ONE! TWO! THREE! DING! DING! DING! Twenty thousand screaming fans leap to their feet and “Lapdance” begins to play again as referee Dunn motions to the timekeeper to ring the bell. Funyon rises from his seat at ringside to make the official announcement: “Here is your winner,” he says, “the ‘Real Deal,’ RYYYYAAAN DUSSSSTIN!” Dustin gets to his feet as the referee raises his hand in victory. “What an impressive victory for Ryan Dustin,” says Comet. “Nobody saw that Real Deal coming!” “That only means that he was lucky,” Tom says dismissively. “He won’t get that lucky against me when he has to face me for this fourteen pounds of gold!” With that, he rises from his seat and holds the World Cruiserweight Title above his head, which gains the attention of the Number One Contender. “If Ryan Dustin can hit Tom Flesher with that Real Deal neckbreaker, he could be the next Cruiserweight Champion! As it is, he proved to the world that his win over Birdman last week wasn’t a fluke, and now he’s got a great deal of momentum as he heads on a collision course with the Superior One! Does Ryan Dustin have what it takes to beat Tom Flesher? We may find out at Genesis! Stay with us, folks; we’ll be right back with more exciting SWF Action!” Dustin climbs onto the middle ropes, and stares outside the ring at the World Cruiserweight Champion, who stares back at him smugly as Storm goes to commercial.