Thoth

Okay, it's gone to hell.

does any grls hav a mic does any grls hav a mic does any grls hav a mic does any grls hav a mic does any grls hav a mic does any grls hav a mic does any grls hav a mic does any grls hav a mic FUCKING SHUT UP

Masked Man vs Johnny D is no longer happening, sorry to those involved. At least Z doesn't have to mark now.

Nice show today, fellas. Card for Lockdown up in a bit.

As we fade in from commercial, the camera focuses on the stage and the big Smarktron above. The lights darken and a flurry of pyro explodes! BOOM! BOOM! B-B-B-BOOOOM!! The Storm theme kicks up and the camera pans over the ecstatic crowd in Hartford. Funyon stands in the ring and addresses the crowd, "Laaaaaaaadies and Gentlemen!! The Smarks Wrestling Federation is proud to present to you tonight, S! W! F! STOOOOORRM!!" The crowd in the Hartford Civic Center goes absolutely wild, cheering obnoxiously for their favorite superstars. "Welcome to SWF Storm!" greets Cyclone Comet. Bobby Riley voices over as the camera sweeps over the excited Hartford crowd. As the shot pans around the Civic Center, signs stand out, including "Janus = GOLD", a huge "ToXXXic!" sign that spans four seats and is held by a group of darkly dressed goth chicks, and "Barracuda: Mission Failed" being waved around by a small kid wearing a Superiority Complex shirt. "Tonight we have an action packed line-up," spews Riley. The shot focuses on the commentator duo. Bobby's smile spans from ear to ear and he nearly bounces in his chair. "Main Event tag team action, Hardcore contendership tag team action, so many men in action!" "Hold onto your pants, there, Robert," stays Comet. The roaring crowd inside the Hartford Civic center begins to die down as the Storm movie fades away on the Smarktron. The camera also fades to black, and shows what the fans see on the big screen. A backstage shot appears, focusing on a door with a 'Sean Davis' plaque labeling it. In the lower left corner, the words 'EARLIER TODAY' show up, then die away. "Citizen Davis has his own locker room?" asks Comet, once again voicing over the video footage. "He's only making his debut tonight!" Riley answers him, "That does seem rather out of place, but maybe there's just something about this big, burly man that's special." The door opens and inside is a small, but private locker room. Inside, Marcus Washington can be heard chattering to his client. The words are intelligible for a moment, as the camera peers around the corner, his words clarify. "- going to mangle this Rob Gilbert, he's just a kid. Your exhibition didn't go over so well -" Sean Davis, the monster of a man, glances at Marcus. A building fury can be seen creeping into Sean's facial features. Washington raises his hands, an attempt to calm Davis down. "Now, Sean, you'll have a chance at Hunt. Focus on Gilbert, tonight. He's young, unexperienced, he was trained with the best money could buy, but you can't buy talent. He even bought himself a lawyer. That's just funny, Sean. Let him have a big head. His victory on Smarkdown must have been a fluke." Sean rolls his eyes and continues to spread oil over his bare chest. "I like how he told me he was going to," he raises one hand, crooking two fingers to signify 'in quotes', "send me on the pain train back to prison or some shit like that? I'm gonna whoop his ass, I didn't come here to play head games." Marcus shakes his head, "No, you didn't. We came here to win. I've been talking with some people, and we're aiming high. Aren't you ready yet?" Washington gives his friend an exasperated look with a head motion for him to hurry up. Davis rubs his shoulders with the oil, shaking his head at the attorney. "Just a minute, Marc. Why don't you meet me in the weight room, I've got to warm up." Washington throws his arms up in frustration and turns to leave the locker room, only to be confronted by the cameraman. "Hey! Get out of here! You don't have permission to be here." The picture cuts off abruptly, and then the shot returns to the Hartford Civic Center at present. The crowd is barely alive, just buzzing with idle chatter. These fans haven't seen Sean Davis, and couldn't care less. Most are asking who the heck he is. The camera focuses on the announce team. "Well, that was rude," says Comet. He appears taken aback, as if Marcus Washington had berated the caped crusader himself. "Oh, surely you've fought meaner demons in your sleep," jests Riley. He looks at his partner, 'you've got to be kidding me' written all over his face. Behind the team, Connecticut fans spasm at being in front of the camera. A beer is spilled, a couple signs shaken, and one uptight woman just sits there, not smiling, staring at the camera, as if it were the Devil himself. Cyclone Comet blinks at Riley, then nods. "Yes, Robert, I have." "Enough of this, Spandex Boy. I need men, in the ring. The sooner you stop talking, the sooner this will get under way." Comet looks aghast. "What?!" he exclaims! Riley makes a 'shh' motion at him, and the picture momentarily fades to black, then reveals the card for the evening.

The camera pans the Hartford Civic Center as SWF Storm returns from commercial. Fans are shown holding signs like “Much Less Landon,” “Jamie Drazon Lacks Character,” and the old favorite – a “Toxxic Shock Syndrome” sign featuring Toxxic’s head pasted above a crudely-drawn tampon. “Coming up next,” says Cyclone Comet, “we have a Tornado tag team encounter in which the ring will collapse under the aggregate ego of three of the participants – Tom Flesher, Landon Maddix and Toxxic.” “Yeah, but Jamie Drazon’s giant ass isn’t going to help the ring stay up,” adds Riley. “The simple fact is, there’s an overabundance of talent in this main event, and Jay Dawg.” “The two #1 contenders for Janus’s World Title square off, as well as the ICTV Champion and his most recent challenger, someone who’s dealt Tom Flesher a troublesome hand in the past! Let’s go to the ring.” The arena dims down to solid darkness. After a few moments, allowing the hushes and the comments to pass... Marilyn Manson's "Dope Hat" hits the speakers to a loud ovation. Drazon walks through the curtains, observing the crowd briefly, scanning what he can for his presence. He finally walks down the aisle slowly, making his way into the ring. “Ladies and gentlemen,” says Funyon, “the following contest is a Tornado tag team match! Count-out and disqualification rules do not apply, and the winning team is the first to score a pin or a submission! Making his way to the ring is the first competitor… from Vancouver, British Columbia, and weighing 243 pounds, the Hardcore Maniac… Jamie DRAAAAAAAZON!” Drazon enters the ring, barely acknowledging the crowd. “If there’s one thing to be said for Jamie Drazon,” says Cyclone Comet, “it’s that he’s a focused man.” “The drugs will do that to you,” agrees Riley. “And speaking of drugs…” The heavy guitars of Lostprophets’ “We Still Kill The Old Way” kicks in, and the words “Prepare To Be Proved Wrong” flash up one after another on the Smarktron, jagged white letters on a black background. The picture then cuts to footage of Toxxic taking Mike Van Siclen off a balcony and through a table with the Toxxic Shock Syndrome, the landing timed to coincide with... ‘GO!’ BOOOM!! ...the blast of red pyro announcing the arrival of the SWF's premier straight-edger! The Smarktron cuts to a shot of Toxxic's lopsided grin before moving onto other match clips such as hitting the Glass Jawbreaker on Aecas, clips of the all-show brawl with Insane Luchador and dropping Kibagami on his head with the Caffeine Bomb. “His partner, hailing from Nottingham in the UK, and weighing 218 pounds for a total combined weight of 461 pounds, he is the Straight-Edge Sensation… TOXXXXXXXXXIC!!!!!” As the main riff hammers out through the speakers Toxxic comes out towards the squared circle, visibly worked up for the match and accompanied by Jet. He stops a short distance from the ring, cracking his neck and talking to himself before rushing it, scaling a ringpost and making his crucifix symbol to the crowd. He tosses his shirt out to Jet, but doesn’t look as distracted as usual. Rather, he shares Drazon’s focus. “Toxxic is being given a chance tonight,” says Comet. “He’s only faced off against Tom Flesher once before, with Flesher gaining the duke with the help of then-Commissioner Mark Stevens. Now, with Janus’ title on the line in the future against both Flesher and Toxxic, the straight-edger needs to find a mental advantage. Will he be able to find it tonight? Only time will tell.” The arena goes quiet once again, and Toxxic and Drazon huddle in the corner. Funyon announces, “And their opponents…” The faint guitar riff beginning to "Megalomaniac" by Incubus starts playing in the background, and the boos are almost immediate. The boos and the song begin to pick up, and eventually drums join in too, before suddenly a booming voice appears over the P.A system... "PREPARE...FOR...LANDON!" ...WAAAAAHHHHH... *DUM DUM* "Megalomaniac" continues playing, as from behind the curtain steps Landon Maddix, stopping at the top of the ramp and thrusting his hands out to his side as the lights return back to normal. Landon turns back to the curtains as Megan Skye follows out from the back. They then walk down the ramp, with Landon leading the way, jawjacking with fans on the way down the ramp as he goes. "Well, at least it's only Megan coming out with Landon tonight." sighs Comet. "Only Megan!?!" "Well, he usually has half the locker room accompanying him." Landon leaps to the apron, before running across the apron and leaping up to the middle turnbuckle. Looking out at the crowd, Landon grins and holds his arms out to the sides before leaping over the top and entering the ring. The crowd voice their displeasure, as Landon removes his ICTV Title belt and raising it high in the air. "This shou..." "SSSSSSH!!" hisses Riley. *BOOOOOM!* An explosion of blue pyro and smoke lights up the arena, and Led Zeppelin’s “Kashmir” begins to blare over the speakers! The smoke clears, and Tom Flesher walks out in his blue warm-up suit. Next to him is Allison Onita, wearing her grey sweats and a blue spaghetti-strap tank. She escorts him through the smoke and they walk forward together, fireworks going off in the background. As Allison struts next to Flesher, the fans boo them both loudly. Tom simply shoos them off with a flick of the wrist, and the pair enter the ring together. They strike a pose, Flesher holding his chin and smirking, Onita curling up against him so close that it’s hard to tell where one stops and the other begins. The music fades, and Funyon begins his announcement. “Currently in the ring…” Flesher looks at the announcer and claps his hands sharply. Funyon rolls his eyes and reaches into his breast pocket, pulling out… An index card. Even as the fans begin to boo, Funyon reads the text of the card. “The convergence of the unrelated sometimes visits on the world levels of greatness which were previously unknown, and which may never be seen again. From the political genius of Henry Clay and John C. Calhoun, through the shared charisma of John Malkovich and Gary Sinise in ‘Of Mice and Men,’ to the steamy philosophical discourse of Jean-Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir, these combinations have bettered mankind. Tonight, this combination shall better mankind simply by existing as the union between two of the greatest geniuses ever to grace the squared circle. Flanked by the beautiful Megan Skye and Allison Onita, before you stands 423 combined pounds of shining perfection, the team of the reigning ICTV Champion, Landon ‘La Cucaracha’ Maddix, and the NEXT SWF World Champion… ‘the Superior One’ TOM FLESHER!” Flesher and Maddix bow in unison, prompting a huge boo from the crowd. Almost on command, they burst into a chant of “MADDIX SUCKS! FLESHER’S COCK! MADDIX SUCKS! FLESHER’S COCK!” “Oh, come on,” says Comet, rolling his eyes. “This is sickening.” “I can’t believe that you don’t appreciate great prose,” says Riley derisively. “Tom Flesher and Landon Maddix may well change the lives of some people in attendance tonight. Why don’t you acknowledge that?” “If your life can be changed by two egomaniacs acting as a tag team, I don’t suppose there’s much to say.” Allison strips Flesher’s warm-up off him, and Flesher and Maddix confer briefly about strategy before turning toward the center. Flesher makes an “okay” sign, and the official calls for the bell. *DING DING DING!!!* “The bell’s gone,” says Riley, “and this one’s underway!” As Riley once again earns his rank as Captain Obvious, Flesher and Maddix dive at Toxxic and Drazon, respectively, and hit stereo dropkicks to the knees! Toxxic and Drazon collapse in unison, and Flesher rolls toward Toxxic, grabbing him in a quick front headlock. Maddix starts toward Drazon, but the Hardcore Maniac gets up to his feet and glares at him. Landon backpedals, and Jamie charges at him… only to be caught with a back body drop over the top rope! Drazon collapses in a heap on the outside, and Flesher momentarily releases his headlock to point at Landon and golf-clap. Allison and Megan join in, and Maddix takes a quick bow. “There you have it,” says Riley. “Flesher and Maddix are running like a well-oiled machine already, whereas Toxxic is just outclassed and Jamie Drazon’s an idiot as usual.” As Flesher pauses to applaud Maddix, however, Toxxic shoots an arm up between Flesher’s thighs, hammering his testicles with a low blow! Flesher doubles over in pain as the Straight-Edge Sensation stands up and rocks him with a European uppercut. Flesher staggers backwards, caught off-guard. Landon starts over to help Flesher, but Drazon reaches up from the outside and grabs him by the ankle! Jamie Drazon pulls Landon Maddix out of the ring, while inside his partner whips Tom Flesher to the ropes. Maddix hits the concrete, and Drazon nails him in the back of the head with a lariat. Flesher, meanwhile, bounces off the ropes and leapfrogs over Toxxic. He sprints across the ring and rebounds again, but this time Toxxic catches him with a spinning heel kick that takes him to the mat! Drazon slides into the ring as Toxxic lifts Flesher back to his feet. “Despite the initial prediction that Flesher and Maddix would take the lead, it seems that Toxxic recovered well,” says Comet. “With a low blow! Sickening,” says Riley. “Simply disgusting. Is this the guy who brags and brags about not breaking the rules?” “This is a tornado tag, Robert. There ARE no rules.” Toxxic shoves Flesher back into the corner before walloping him with another European uppercut. Flesher shudders as Toxxic hammers him back, then whips him to the ropes. Flesher rebounds, only to be caught in the face by a stiff Thai roundhouse kick from Drazon! Tom falls to the mat, and the Hardcore Maniac covers him for ONE!!! But no more, as Flesher kicks out quickly. "FLESHER SUCKS! FLESHER SUCKS! FLESHER SUCKS!" The raucous crowd get on The Superior One's case, as Toxxic and Drazon confer briefly. Flesher pulls himself back up, and takes a kick from Toxxic. JD lays in with one of his own too, just for the hell of it. Both men grab Tom by an arm and send him into the ropes once more, but Flesher is able to hook the top rope on his way and bail out to the floor. "Phew. Smart move." Riley sighs. "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" The crowd fail to agree, judging it as cowardice. Tom could care less though, relieved that he avoided any impact. Around walks Landon to check if he's ok...as back in the ring, Jamie Drazon suddenly breaks into a run. Both Tom and Landon turn around at the same time, to see Drazon suicide diving over the top rope and wiping them both out!!! "YEEEEAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!" "Oh MY!" Comet bursts out. "Suicide Dive from Drazon!" The crowd erupt, as Drazon rolls off of the 'Dream Team' and begins punching the crap out of Maddix. Toxxic meanwhile rolls out of the ring, honing in on Flesher. Chaos ensues on the floor, as Maddix is scrambling away from Drazon, while Toxxic pulls Flesher up and throws him back into the ring. In rolls Toxxic, backing immediately into a corner while Tom drags himself up. Once he does, Toxxic moves in and drags his fellow number one contender into the centre of the ring, hitting another European uppercut. Flesher recoils and swings back with a trademark Shotei. But Toxxic has him scouted obviously, ducking that and running to the ropes. Around spins Flesher to meet him, but meets a crude soccer tackle to the shins! "Toxxic combining his two loves there...soccer and hurting people." "Which can be said for about 50% of the British population." sneers Riley. Tom slowly gets back up, as Toxxic sees the chance to end things quickly and hooks him for the Toxxic Shock Syndrome. However, Tom has Toxxic scouted too and is able to spin out the back. The Straight-Edge Sensation reacts slowly, giving Flesher time to ready himself and connect with an enziguri to the back of the head! Down goes Toxxic, as Flesher makes a cover... ONE! ...easy kickout for Toxxic. On the outside, the Maddix/Drazon brawl continues on...as Flesher pulls Toxxic up to his feet. A succession of Shotei strikes rock Toxxic back to the ropes, until his hand can take no more. At that point, Flesher grabs Toxxic and irish whips him across the ring. Rebounding, Toxxic attempts another soccer tackle, which Flesher is able to hurdle. Toxxic scrambles up, as Flesher hits a knee to the gut and pulls Toxxic's legs out from underneath him. He falls to a seated position, as Flesher positions a leg on either thigh of Toxxic and locks on some Wet Cement! "Great move by Tom!" drools Riley. "That'll stop those dumb soccer tackles." Toxxic feels the effects early, slumping into Flesher. However, on the outside Drazon sees the peril his partner is and rolls in to break the move up. Angrily Flesher unwraps himself from Toxxic, as Drazon lays in a series of boots. Landon Maddix is meanwhile laid up on the outside, unable to help. Both Allison and Megan are trying to check on him, but Drazon has knocked him loopy. Back in the ring, Drazon shoves Flesher into the corner and drives a shoulder to the gut, before pulling out and hitting a headbutt to the same area. Over walks Toxxic, cracking his neck to rid the Wet Cement effects. Seeing he's in trouble Flesher tries to beg off. *SLA - SLAP!* "WHOOOOOO!!" ...but for his troubles, he gets a double knifedge chop! "This isn't fair! Poor Tom is getting double-teamed!" "That's the way the cookie crumbles Bobbo." "Did I ask for your 'opinion'." "No, bu..." *SLA - SLAP!* "WHOOOOOO!!" Flesher takes a second double knifedge, before getting whipped across the ring. Flesher hits the turnbuckles as in charges Drazon, hitting a clothesline before throwing him back out. Tom can't stop himself, as in runs Toxxic with a clothesline of his own! Down goes Flesher, who looks totally shocked and tries to get out of the ring. Drazon stops him though and pulls him up, pushing him forwards into Toxxic's waiting arms... *SLAP!* "WHOOOOOO!!" ...for another chop. By now, Flesher's chest is turning a shade of red from these chops... *SLAP!* "WHOOOOOO!!" ...another from Toxxic certainly not helping his coloration. "This is surprisingly good teamwork from Drazon and Toxxic." comments Cyclone. "Despite their clear differences, they're doing a solid job of neutralising Citizen Flesher." Flesher drops to one knee, taking a kick from Toxxic on his way. Drazon meanwhile continues to direct traffic, asking Toxxic for a chance to deliver some pain. He complies by irish whipping Flesher forward...but The Superior One ducks another Thai Roundhouse and clamps on a sleeper. Toxxic sees it however and runs to the side of the two, hitting the ropes... *SMACK!* ...and nailing a stiff clothesline to the back of Flesher's head! Both Flesher and Drazon fly forwards, with Drazon landing throat first on the middle rope. Quickly Toxxic pulls up Flesher and aims a right hand, but Tom ducks and clotheslines Toxxic over the top...tumbling over with him, leaving Drazon in the ring. At which point, Landon Maddix finally rolls back into the ring. "Oh...how convenient." sneers Comet. "Landon re-emerges once everyone else is out of the way." "Hey, you can't argue with success." Noticing Drazon's position, Maddix snickers to himself before running off the ropes, hooking top and middle to swing with the... 6... 0... ...NO! Drazon ducks, leaving Maddix to swing back around harmlessly and look decidedly foolish! Landon regains his bearings quickly though, kicking Drazon in the gut and pushing him towards the corner. JD stops himself and charges back out, but Maddix ducks a clothesline and hooks Drazon for the Acid Drop... ...but Drazon is one step ahead again, 'catching' Maddix in mid-move and despositing him over the top rope... ...AND ONTO FLESHER AND TOXXIC!!! "YEEEEAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!" The crowd cheer, seeing Flesher, Maddix and Toxxic in a crumpled heap and only Jamie Drazon standing. "Oh no!" wails Riley. First to get up is Maddix, stumbling near enough for Drazon to drag him back into the ring. Quickly Drazon whips Maddix off the ropes, catching him coming back with a pendulum backbreaker. With Landon left arching his back in major discomfort, Drazon takes his time about backing into one corner of the ring and patting his thigh, to a pop from the crowd. "Here we go! Citizen Drazon is looking for the Yakuza Kick...or maybe even the Shining Black!" "And poor Landon doesn't realise it!" Slowly Maddix gets back up, reaching his knees and stopping due to confusion. Smiling, JD gives his leg another pat before leaving the corner... ...and falling flat on his face, thanks to a trip from Flesher! "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" Flesher turns and mugs to the crowd, as suddenly Toxxic comes into view, charging right at Flesher and spearing him down! The crowd pop for that, as meanwhile Maddix is perfectly fine and smiling. Near-strutting over to Drazon, Maddix slaps The Hardcore Maniac across the head before pulling him up. Drazon swings angrily with a right hand, but takes a rake to the eyes right back. Disorientated, he staggers towards the corner and promptly gets clotheslined back into the turnbuckles. Drazon staggers back out a little, straight into a Dropsault that drops him to a seated position in the corner. "Now THAT is the ICTV Champion." Riley says proudly. "And it looks like JD's gonna Get Licked..." Indeed, Maddix is busy running off the ropes, back towards Drazon and diving at him with both feet...and catching him with the Get Licked, bootscraping him with both feet and leaving him writhing in pain. Landon meanwhile lands on the outside of the ring, and poses for the crowd... *CRACK!* ...BEFORE TAKING A VILE CHAIRSHOT FROM TOXXIC!!! "YEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!" "Tha...that CHEATER~!" "He's not cheating. Like I said earlier, there are no rules to be broken." "Bu...but...that CHEATER~!" Maddix is laid out, so Toxxic turns his attentions back to Flesher. It just so happens that he's armed with a steel chair too though, and as Toxxic turns the corner... *CRACK!* ...HE takes a chairshot from FLESHER!!! "Ha, YES! Beautiful technique." beams Riley. "Your double standards disgust me." "And your superheroic standards disgust me!" Now Toxxic is laid out too...so Flesher turns his attentions back to Drazon. It just so happens that he's not armed with a steel chair, and neither now is Flesher as he tosses it to the side and rolls in. Taking Drazon up, Flesher hooks under his arms and sends JD crashing across the ring with a Railgun Suplex! As soon as JD lands, Flesher rolls back up and drags Drazon up for a seconds Railgun Suplex, hitting it with noticeable more ease than the first. Again Tom rolls through after the move and drags Drazon up... ...but this time Drazon knees Flesher in the gut, and snaps on a front facelock. As soon as he does though, Flesher reacts and charges JD back into the turnbuckles! From the shock, Drazon promptly releases, allowing Flesher to re-affirm his strategy and hit a third Railgun Suplex. This time though, rather than rolling over, Flesher sits up and golf claps his own efforts. "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" The fans obviously don't show him much respect but luckily for Tom's ego, Allison and Megan do. Finally finished clapping, Tom turns to Drazon and makes a lackadaisical cover... ONE! TWO! KICKOUT! "C'mon ref!" snaps Riley. He isn't the only one, as Allison Onita joins in lambasting the referee. Tom meanwhile remains calm and cocky, dragging Drazon up. A Shotei rocks The Hardcore Maniac...and a bitchslap pisses him the shizzle off~! Flesher promptly regrets his slap and tries to apologise... *SMACK!* ...only for a mouthful of palm to cut him off! "Palm strike from Drazon!" booms Comet. "I think Citizen Flesher may have awoken the Hardcore Maniac!" "Err...that's no problem..." Now Flesher is rocked, allowing Drazon to grab Flesher around the waist and throw him with an overhead belly to belly, rising the crowd to their feet! Flesher bounces right back up, unable to believe Drazon is trying to out-perform him, and stumbles forward into a lock and another belly to belly throw! "DRAZON! DRAZON! DRAZON!" Flesher staggers over again and Drazon predictably sets up for a third belly to belly...but Tom reads it like a pamphlet, and knees JD squarely in the balls! "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" Drazon doubles over, as Flesher locks on the front headlock and tries to take him down with a Cement Drop. But while he does, Toxxic has recovered and rolled into the ring with a look of pure fury on his face. Sensing that someone is infact behind him, Flesher releases Drazon and turns... ...just in time to duck a Toxxic superkick... *SMACK!* ...which connects perfectly, with his own partner's jaw! "SEE! I told you they couldn't get along!" "That was clearly a miscue on Toxxic's part." "We'll see..." Drazon stumbles backwards and eventually out through the ropes, to the floor. Flesher meanwhiles wheels the apologising Toxxic around and socks him with a Shotei before attempting an irish whip. Toxxic counters though, and pulls Flesher forward...stepping behind him as he flies forward and driving The Superior One down with the Underkill! The whiplash snaps Flesher's neck awkwardly, but more importantly gives Toxxic time to walk off and exit to the apron. Once there, Toxxic turns around and tries to get the crowd behind him as he leaps to the top rope... "MONDO!" ...from the top rope to the top turnbuckle... "AKIMBO!" ...and from the top turnbuckle towards Flesher... "AGO - GOOOOO!!!" ...and he LANDS the Triple Jump Moonsault! Surprising amounts of the crowd cheer the Straight Edge Sensation, as he remains on top of Flesher for the cover... ONE! TWO! THR... NO, MADDIX BREAKS THE COUNT! "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" "Oh, thank you Todd!" gasps Riley. "Thank you, thank you..." "Yeah, Tom Flesher better be thanking him too. Toxxic had him beat there I think!" Maddix is now bleeding from the forehead after the chairshot he took, but that just makes him more determined to beat Toxxic's brains in. Toxxic pulls himself up and turns to Maddix, who quickly hits a back elbow. A second rocks Toxxic long enough for Maddix to hit the ropes, and rebound with a flying forearm. And, just to show off, Maddix kips up and slaps Toxxic...to mass boos. "No doubt Citizen Maddix is a great talent. But that cockiness is..." "...what makes Tom Flesher so great? What made Ejiro Fasaki so great? What makes ME so great?" "Let's not get carried away." Backing off the ropes, Landon comes back and drops a Dangerous Kneedrop to the forehead of Toxxic, rolling through to be met... ...BY A CLOTHESLINE BY JAMIE DRAZON! "Wha...where did he come from!?!" Stunned, Maddix gets back up and looks around for Drazon, who has backed away into a corner but is now charging in... ...but Maddix ducks a Yakuza Kick, and Drazon crotches himself over the top rope! Quickly Maddix pounces with a series of clubbing forearms to the ribs. Drazon is too hurt to fight back, as Maddix turns to the outside and calls for something. Megan recieves and understands the call, quickly scurrying around and retrieving one of the chairs used earlier in the match and throwing it to Landon. He gratefully catches it, as Toxxic walks over. *CRACK!* ...and gets a reciept from earlier, with a chairshot over the head. Like a sack of potatoes he goes down, as Maddix turns back to Drazon and hands him the chair...which he half consciously takes. "What's this?" questions Comet. "Maddix is setting up for something here..." "Whatever it is, it doesn't look good for the 'Hardcore Maniac'." As Drazon continues to hold the chair, out of instinct rather than anything else, as Maddix meanwhile climbs to the apron. With a quick look to the crowd and a thumbs up to Megan, Landon launches himself to the top rope and goes for the springboard... *CRACK!* ...but Drazon flings the chair at him, reversing Maddix's course and sending him flying back over the top and out to the floor! "Oh NO!" "Drazon countered...and that may be the end of his involvement in this one!" "HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!" Megan and Allison can only look on in horror and gather around the ICTV Champion. Not for long however, as Drazon climbs off the ropes and strolls around the ring to inflict some more damage. In the ring meanwhile, Flesher is standing over Toxxic and looking out in worry at his partner as well. But eventually he shrugs that off, turning back to Toxxic and pulling him slowly to his feet. Toxxic is still a little dazed from the chairshot...something a swift, sharp Shotei won't cure. The Straight Edger falls back into the ropes, his eyes looking a little crossed, as Tom slams him with a European uppercut. "Man, Tom's doing Toxxic's moves better than Toxxic ever has!" "I thought you liked Citizen Toxxic." "Well...Toxxic is great and all, but he's no Landon Maddix and damn sure no Tom Flesher." "...you'll be cheering for him next show, I bet." The bounce of the ropes brings Toxxic towards the center of the ring, into a boot from Flesher and another European uppercut. Despite being stunned, Toxxic suddenly swings back and connects with a LEFT HAND! ...and a RIGHT HAND! LEFT HAND! RIGHT HAND! WIND U... ...Flesher cuts Toxxic off in mid-wind up with a knee and hooks him for a suplex. Summoning the strength he needs, Flesher hoists Toxxic into the air and leaves him hanging upside down. The stalling vertical gets some applause from the fans and none from Allison and Megan, who are busy watching Maddix worriedly while Drazon kicks the crud out of him. Eventually, after a good five seconds or so, Flesher turns chest to chest with Toxxic before driving him down with the Superiority Complex and cradling up the legs instantly. ONE! TWO! TH... NOTOXXICKICKSOUT!! "Toxxic with the kickout...that could easily have been all." "Nah, Tom's just wearing him down and teaching him a lesson. There's plenty of time to get the victory." Indeed, Tom doesn't seem too bothered about Toxxic's kickout. Instead he pulls Toxxic back up and hits another Shotei, the force of which buckling Toxxic's knees and dropping him back down to the canvas. Ever determined, Toxxic gets right back up though, only for Flesher to step quickly behind the Straight Edge Sensation and place him in a waistlock. Before Toxxic knows what's happening, he finds himself being thrown for a german suplex. Obviously Toxxic knows just what to do...but Flesher is shrewd, and as Toxxic predictably backflips out of the move he lands with legs splayed either side of Flesher's raised leg! "OOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!" "HA! Tom had him read like a book!" Toxxic holds his little Straight Edgers, as Flesher spins around and hoists Toxxic right up onto his shoulders. Unable to summon the energy and get free, Toxxic is left to await his fate...and gets DRIVEN to the mat with a Death Valley Driver! Toxxic's head bounces off the canvas, but he hardly has time to feel the effects before Flesher cradles him up tightly... ONE! TWO! TH... NOKICKOUTBYTOXXICAGAIN!! This time Flesher looks a little pertubed at the kickout, and questions the count with the referee. Back on the outside, Drazon and Maddix are no longer at ringside. In fact, they're in the crowd...brawling off into the mass of humanity contained in the Hartford Civic Center and exchanging right hands. Or, by 'exchanging', you could say 'Drazon is punching Maddix around like he's in a Mike Tyson preliminary fight'. So Toxxic and Flesher are free to settle their differences. Flesher now has Toxxic back up and backed into a corner, stomping away on his fellow number one contender. After six or seven kicks, Flesher changes tact and slams a Doc Marten viciously into the jaw of the Straight Edge Sensation. "Well, this match has boiled down to a one on one encounter it seems. Landon and Drazon have brawled off...possibly back to Zenon's office again, to pick up where they left of on Smarkdown." "So we've got the two number one contenders going at it. Maybe when Tom wins, he'll be sole contender." "Doubtful. That'd be too easy." A groggy Toxxic starts to stagger around the ring, his guard put up and ready to swing. Flesher has all the time in the world to line up Toxxic and charge in with a Yakuza Kick. However, Toxxic is able to duck that and run into the ropes with Tom in his sights. Slowly Flesher turns around and gets caught by Toxxic with a crossbody block... ONE! TWO! NOCHANCEFROMACROSSBODYDUH! Both men get back up, with Flesher booting Toxxic in the gut and irish whipping him towards the corner. The agile Toxxic has enough presence of mind and vault to the top rope...but Flesher has that scouted too and drops to the mat. But then again, maybe he hasn't scouted well enough, as Toxxic pulls the Brian Pillman fake-out and re-positions himself on the top rope. Slowly Flesher gets back up, pointing to his cerebral cranium and turns around, as Toxxic dives off the top rope and looks for a hurricanrana... "Watch out Tom!" ...but Tom powerbombs Toxxic, and tries to lock on the Superior Stretch. Frantically Toxxic kicks and squirms, eventually freeing a foot and slamming it into Flesher's jaw! He falls back, rolling through athletically but finding himself unable to capitalise. Toxxic meanwhile gets back up and charges at Flesher, aiming a spinning wheel kick his way. But Flesher rolls again, this time under the move sending Toxxic into the bottom rope which bounces him violently! "Man, what an offensive exchange. If I were Janus, I'd be pretty worried right now." "If you were Janus, that spandex number you're sporting would be nothing but an oddly shaped tanktop." Toxxic pulls himself up quickly, but he's in no condition to do anything. Flesher sees it, and charges at the Straight Edger... *SMACK!* ...and NAILS a Yakuza Kick, falling on top for the pinfall... ONE! TWO! ...KICKOUT! "Damn it!" "Toxxic is proving to be considerably resiliant tonight..." "Too resiliant." Tom gets up and angrily motions for Toxxic to do the same, possibly lining up another Yakuza Kick. Toxxic does get up, and staggers over close to Flesher, leaving him unable to get a suitable run-up...so instead, Flesher takes Toxxic down with an amateur style takedown, leaving him in perfect position to hook on the Superior Stretch Beta. However, Toxxic knows it's coming and back elbows his way quickly out. The elbows cause Tom to back off, holding his jaw as Toxxic gets back up and continues to move in, this time with front elbow strikes! "Oh, wait a second...Toxxic is firing up here!" Tom tries his best to cover up, but the elbows have their effect and after about ten or twelve of them, Flesher drops to his knees. Toxxic looks around the crowd and strikes his straight edge pose... ...but Flesher hits a headbutt to the gut, doubling Toxxic over! Quickly Flesher gets back up and looks to set Toxxic up for the Ego Buster...but suddenly stops, shaking his head and driving a succession of knees to the gut to further double Toxxic over. "Why didn't he go for it?" questions Comet. "Tom could have had the win right there!" "Don't doubt Tom Flesher. Never doubt Tom Flesher." Quickly Tom snaps on a front facelock... ...and hooks Toxxic's left leg. "OOOOOHHHHHHHH!" "He's...not. Is he!?!" The crowd don't quite know what to say or do, as Tom lifts Toxxic up into the air... "He's not...surely!" ...AND BRINGS HIM DOWN WITH THE CAFFEINE BOMB!!! "FLESHER HIT TOXXIC WITH THE CAFFEINE BOMB!" "Brilliant! Anything Toxxic can do, Tom can do better Comet. THERE'S your number ONE contender." Toxxic is out...perhaps from shock at being hit with his own move as well as the effects it brings. Tom meanwhile is grinning from ear to ear, as he slowly drops over Toxxic and makes the pinfall attempt... ONE! TWO! "Surely not like this..." THREEEEEEE!!! *DING DING DING!!!* "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" "Here are your winners...the team of Landon 'La Cucaracha' Maddix...and 'The Superior One'... TOOOOOOOMMM FLESSSSHHEEERRRRR!!!" Flesher grins wryly once more, rolling out of the ring to celebrate with Allison and a slightly worried looking Megan Skye. "I don't believe it. Tom Flesher beats Toxxic..." "With his OWN MOVE Comet! THAT'S how good Tom is. Not only are his own moves deadly, but he can hit everyone elses' too!" Reaching the bottom of the ramp, Flesher cockily makes the title belt motion around his waist and points to the still out Toxxic, as Storm fades... ...to grey. OMGSWERVEOFDA2004YOOOZ~!

SWF Storm returns from commercial break to a jubilant roar from the fans of Hartford, Connecticut! However, the view isn’t on the audience this time, instead the focus lies on the steel structure looming overhead, the ever deadly cage—gleaming magnificently as the lights pass over it. It begins to lower and another cheer erupts, and finally, we switch to the announcers table… “Welcome back to SWF Storm, Citizens!” greets Cyclone Comet. “It’s now time for our next exciting match of the evening, and it will be a cage match between the Dark Angel, Aecas and Johnny Dangerous. For the winner, their future will be met with a shot at the ICTV Title, currently held by the despicable Landon Maddix.” “Please, Comet, such slander is completely uncalled for,” says Bobby. “Landon Maddix is a proud Champion.” “But of course,” replies Comet, rolling his eyes. “At any rate we have just been alerted that the cage is ready—such speed our technical crew has! Let’s turn this one over to our esteemed ring announcer, Funyon!” A spotlight shines down into the ring, illuminating Funyon as he raises the microphone to his lips. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he says, “the following cage match will determine the number one contender to the SMARTMARK WRESTLING FEDERATION INTERCONTINENTAL-TELEVISION CHAMPIONSHIP! The rules for this match are as follows: In order for Aecas to win this match he must receive a pinfall, submission, or technical knock out—escape rules are not in effect for him. For Johnny Dangerous to win he must be able to escape over the top of the cage with both feet touching the outside floor—standard pinfall rules are not in affect for him.” He pauses momentarily to catch his breath and let the fans revel in the rather peculiar rules to this match. “A rather odd stipulation for this cage match indeed,” adds Comet. “One man has to escape the man inside the ring desperately trying to pin him. We could be in for the match of the night, Robert.” “Or we could be in for a total disaster,” replies Riley. “We have a raging psycho in Aecas versus Mr. Stunt Man himself, Johnny Dangerous. I’d be pleasantly surprised if these two can even remember the rules to the match.” “Introducing first… ” booms Funyon, just before the arena goes dark for several long moments, prompting the crowd to buzz with anticipation. Finally, an ominous graveyard bell tolls, which is met by a booming cheer! A deep voice picks up on the speakers, inquiring of the fans… "Are you scared?" “RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!” The voice seemingly separates in two, bouncing around the arena and hitting every wall before meeting back together to say: "He's here... " “RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!” And Amon Amarth's "Death in Fire" blasts out from the speakers as a lighting bolt flashes across the screen, highlighting Aecas on the Smarktron™ - a sadistic grin scribbled across his face! The arena is bathed in a red hue as thick smoke boils up from the entranceway, filling the air and carpeting the floor. Finally, a blood red spotlight picks out Aecas, standing deep in the depths of the smoke with his flick scythe clenched in his hand. “From Shrewsbury, England,” continues Funyon, “and weighing in at three hundred and fifteen pounds, he is… the Black Angel, AECAAAAAAAS!!” Aecas saunters down the ramp, makes his way around the ring towards the timekeepers table and disposes of his scythe. He heads into the ring as his music fades and the lights dim. A voice picks up on the speakers, whispering a name in a deep, sultry voice… “JOHNNY DANGEROUS~!” My Life With the Thrill Kill Cult’s “After the Flesh” immediately thunders out across the arena to a sensational pop from the crowd! On the stage a thick, white smoke begins billowing out, completely immersing the platform. Meanwhile, overhead on the Smarktron, clips of the Barracuda in action flash by – Johnny hitting a Sunset Flip powerbomb on Spike Jenkins from the top of a cage… Ace Lezaire trapped in his over-the-shoulder Boston Crab and tapping like a lunatic… a spinning heel kick to Mike Van Siclen’s dreadful skull! Johnny steps out onto the stage, completely submerged in the smoke and walks briskly to the middle of the stage where dozens of strobes fire off, partially illuminating him. Finally, after a moment of suspense, he emerges from the smoke, dressed once again in his Wild and Dangerous Olympic styled singlet. “And his opponent,” announces Funyon, “from Las Vegas, Nevada, and weighing in at two hundred and seventeen pounds, he is… JOOOHNNY ‘THE BARRAAAACUDA’ DAAAANGEROUUUUUUS!!” Johnny steps through the cage door and into the ring. The sound of the door slamming shut behind him catches his attention and he casually glances over his shoulder. “Once that cage door locks it won’t open again until after this match has been won,” notes Comet. “Johnny can not win this match by escaping through the door; he must go over the cage.” “After the Flesh” fades away and Johnny steps towards the center of the ring as Aecas steps out of his corner and progresses to the middle. Matthew Kivell, the inside official for this match, turns towards the timekeeper and calls for the bell. DING DING DING!!! Johnny and Aecas stay within a good distance of the other as they slowly begin to circle, seemingly hesitant to lock up. At least Johnny does. He glances all around the ring, studying the metal structure that separates him from victory, “-and the Barracuda is already putting that wheel of his into motion,” notes Comet. “Formulating a plan on how he can escape this cage like a true secret agent!” “Figures,” mutters Riley. “Johnny looking for a way out like a yellow-bellied chicken! What’s worse is that Aecas is just standing there and letting Johnny scheme up a plan. If I were him I’d be all over Johnny like stink on sh-” WHAM! Almost as if he were taking the advice of Bobby Riley, Aecas rushes into Johnny and unloads a solid smash of his fist into the Barracuda’s skull! Johnny stumbles back, caught by total surprise and the Black Angel gives chase. He swings once more, but this time Johnny is ready. he quickly ducks under the arm and takes off across the ring behind Aecas, hitting the ropes and springing back towards the Black Angel. Aecas barely spins around in time to see it coming, and Johnny slams his forearm into the Black Angel with a lariat! Aecas stumbles back a step. “Aecas is un-phased!” exclaims Comet, as the Black Angel remains standing and the crowd roars in excitement. Johnny’s eyes widen a mile… but then he quickly takes off across the ring once more. Again he hits the ropes, and again he comes charging back towards Aecas to once more attempt a clothesline… WHACK! Aecas explodes from his standing position and clubs the Secret Agent in the face, flooring him instantly! Another cheer escapes the fans as Johnny rolls to his feet and Aecas storms across the mat, but Johnny quickly jumps up, and LEVELS the Black Angel with a springing side kick to the chest! Aecas climbs back to his feet, clenching down on his fist as he does. Behind him Johnny goes for the ropes yet again and bounces back towards the Black Angel. Aecas quickly glances over his shoulder and sees the Barracuda closing in then jumps up, pivoting on his heel… WHOOOOSH! … and suddenly SWINGS for Johnny’s mouth, but Dangerous quickly ducks out of the way then spins on his heel, unloading a Roundhouse Kick into the Black Angel’s gut! Johnny’s foot rocks Aecas’ ribcage, taking the Black Angel’s feet at least an inch off the mat! As soon as Aecas’ feet touch back down, Johnny spins again, only this time in the opposite direction while dropping to the mat with a Russian Leg Sweep! WHAM! “A roundhouse kick followed by a Russian Leg Sweep,” remarks Comet, as Aecas slams into the canvas. “If I remember correctly Johnny used the same combination against Aecas the last time they had a match.” “Yeah…well, Johnny’s stark raving MAD if he thinks he’s going to go toe to toe with Aecas in some kind of a brawl here tonight,” Riley says. “I mean… they’re fools anyway, the whole lot of them, but Johnny really doesn’t want to get into a slug-fest with the Black Angel; he’d be signing his own death warrant there!” However, Johnny’s intentions lie no where near a slugfest. Instead he races off to the side of the ring and begins climbing the side of the cage. The crowd begins cheering him on, “-but I’m rather surprised Johnny’s making a break for the cage wall already.” says Comet. “Aecas is already getting back to his feet, there’s no way Agent Dangerous will make it out.” Johnny knows this all to well. He looks back and catches sight of Aecas charging in, and he quickly vaults off the side of the cage. The Black Angel stops and just stares in surprise, just in time for Johnny to smash him squarely in the chest with both feet! He hits so hard that he drives his opponent straight to the canvas with a tremendous thud! “What a hit by the Barracuda—he’s pulling out all the stops tonight to try and win a shot at the ICTV Title!” “Who wouldn’t,” replies Bobby, shaking his head. “I mean come on, here they are offering up a chance for one of these buffoons to square off against Main Event Landon, a future World Champion! Chances like that don’t usually happen to such unfortunate individuals.” “Less… unfortunate,” scowls Comet. “I’d rather think that these two both want to rid the federation of this plague to the Intercontinental-Television Championship name Citizen Maddix. After only a single defense, his reign is marred of heinous acts of betrayal to everything that means to be a champion.” “… What?” Locking in a quick arm wrench, Johnny pulls Aecas to his feet then twist the Black Angel’s arm around with an Arm Wringer. He gives a solid snap to Aecas’ arm, eliciting a cry of pain from the Black Angel! However, the surge of pain seems to do little more to Aecas then give him a good wake up call as he quickly spins around and plants his fist straight into Dangerous’ mouth, jarring his arm loose! Johnny staggers backwards, but then steps right back in while balling up his fist and then swings for Aecas’ head. Aecas sees the punch coming a mile away and quickly tosses a forearm up, blocking the punch! He fires back and socks the Barracuda right in the eye! An “OOOOOH!” escapes from the crowd as Johnny stumbles backwards with a hand to his eye. Aecas steps in, pulling the Barracuda’s arm back and unloads a series of punches into the Secret Agent’s skull! WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! “And Aecas is battling back with some ferocious right hands,” shouts Riley, as Aecas plows his fist into Johnny one final time and the Barracuda falls into the ropes. “So much for Johnny’s brains giving him the edge; Aecas brute strength shows that even a hulked up retard can win at this game!” Aecas grabs Johnny by the wrist and pulls him off the ropes, then whips him across the ring. Johnny hits the ropes and comes rocketing back towards the Dark Angel, who presents a Big Boot to the Barracuda… But Johnny sails underneath Aecas’ oversized foot, heading to the opposite side of the ring! Dangerous leaps to the second rope, and SPRINGS~ off, twisting in midair as he looks to land a cross-body, but Aecas spins around and snatches Johnny out of the sky to a huge roar of cheers! “Aecas looked like he was ready for that one,” notes Comet, “and now the fate of the Barracuda is in the Dark Angel’s hands!” “So much for you mind over matter philosophy, eh Comet,” snickers Riley. Johnny bucks and flails, trying to worm his way free, but Aecas quickly ends the struggle as he drops Johnny across his knee with a backbreaker, inciting a howl of pain from the Barracuda! A sickening smile dashes across the Dark Angel’s face, seemingly enjoying Johnny’s cry for mercy as he hauls the Barracuda back up… and SLAMS Johnny back down across his knee once more! WHAM!! “Ouch,” Comet winces at the impact. “Aecas is taking straight to Johnny’s back, and with the brute strength powering the Black Angel’s fuel cell it won’t take much for him to permanently shut down the Barracuda’s operation.” “Fuel cell,” Bobby quizzically repeats. “What… is he nuclear powered now?” After the second backbreaker, Aecas allows Johnny to pop off his leg, and flop to the mat. Aecas drops to his knees, pressing his palms into Johnny’s chest as Kivell slides in for the count. “Oh, and we have a cover,” shouts Bobby, “this could be it!” ONEEE!! TWOOO!!! NOOOOOOOOO!!!!! Johnny gets the shoulder up! “Almost,” says Riley. “If you’ll notice, Comet, there wasn’t much authority there behind that one; Johnny can’t last much longer at this rate… and this match has barely started!” Grabbing a handful of hair, Aecas helps Johnny back up to his feet and gives him a good sized kick to the gut, keeping the Barracuda subdued. Then, with a tight grip on Johnny’s wrist, Aecas viciously whips Dangerous across the ring, towards the turnbuckle, and quickly chases after him, looking to crush the Barracuda’s skull with his Yakuza Kick! But Johnny reaches out for the ropes on each side of the post and grabs on as he vaults himself into the air, and shoves off, landing directly behind Aecas as he storms into the turnbuckle only to find NOBODY HOOOOOOOOOOOME… WHAM!! … And Johnny plants a HUGE drop kick into Aecas’ back, knocking him into the ring post and down to his knees! “What a tremendous display of agility by Johnny Dangerous,” says Comet. “He caught Aecas by total surprise there!” “Right, sure thing, Comet,” Bobby says mockingly. “We’ve already seen where all that flipping around gets you; absolutely nowhere!” Johnny slides in from behind as the Black Angel scrambles to get back up, grabbing a good chunk of the Barracuda’s hair and pulling back on it…then SLAMMING Aecas’ forehead into the turnbuckle to a tremendous roar from the crowd! Johnny steps in and spins Aecas around, backing the Black Angel into the turnbuckle as he climbs to the second rope, then unloads with a series of right hands into Aecas’ dome! “ONE!” “TWO!” “THREE!” “FOUR!” “FIVE!” “SIX!” “SEVEN!” “EIGHT!” “NINE!” “TEN!” “Oh come on ref,” cries Bobby, as Johnny hops down from the turnbuckle, letting Aecas lumber face-first to the mat. “That was blatantly illegal… not surprising since it’s coming from the second biggest cheat in this federation next to Wildchild, but what’s it going to take for a referee to finally take action against all these cheap tactics!” “What are you talking about, Citizen Robert, have you been locked in a dungeon!? Wildchild’s been gone for quite a while now, and secondly… there are no disqualifications to a cage match.” Aecas staggers to his feet, stunned out of his mind. In the distance, Johnny quickly charges towards the far side of the ring, hits the ropes and comes rocketing back towards the Dark Angel! He draws his arm back, hoping that he has enough momentum built up to flatten his opponent with a lariat, but at the last possible second Aecas dodges out of the way. The Dark Angel then grabs Johnny by the back of his head and uses the Barracuda’s own momentum to sling him into the air… CRACK! …and Johnny sails head-first into the side of the steel cage! His skull ricochets off the metal framework and it throws his entire body back… and he crashes to the mat in a heap! The fans explode with excitement and begin chanting “AE-C-AS! AE-C-AS!,” which surprisingly brings a smile to the Dark Angel’s face. A smile that is quickly wiped away as Aecas snaps his head back towards his focus, Johnny Dangerous. “What a counter by the Black Angel!” marvels Riley. “Figures that Aecas would be the one to finally use the cage itself as a weapon. We couldn’t expect that same kind of genius tactics to come from Johnny Dangerous after all.” “I don’t think it was preconceived plan,” counters Comet, “but rather a split second decision that gives the Angelic Citizen some room to gather his bearings and regain control of this match—good reflexes if you will.” “Well, now that I think about it, Aecas would be doing pretty good by putting some serious trauma to Johnny’s head. If can’t climb the cage if he’s too dazed to even stand!” Comet just shakes his head. In the ring, Aecas moves in on Dangerous as he tries to climb back to his feet, quickly wrapping his hands around the Barracuda’s waist. He starts to lift, looking to smear Johnny’s body across the ring with a German, but now it’s the Secret Agent’s turn to put some reflexes into play. Johnny fires off an elbow, cranking it into the side of the Black Angel’s skull. The blow catches Aecas by complete surprise, forcing him to set the Barracuda back on his feet. But before Johnny can slip completely away, Aecas lunges forward, clubbing the Barracuda in the back with a double axe handle! A hollow thump rings out as Johnny grimaces in pain, and he bends forward to reach for his throbbing spine. Unfortunately, for Johnny that is, he leaves himself open and Aecas takes full advantage. He reaches around Johnny’s waist again and hoists the Secret Agent into the air… WHAM! Then slams Johnny neck-and-shoulders-first into the canvas with a German suplex! Aecas releases his hold and Johnny bounces off the mat then flops onto his face, landing in a heap. Wasting no time, Aecas scrambles over Johnny, rolling him onto his back as he covers for… ONE!! TWOOO!!!! NOOOOOO!!!!!! Johnny kicks out! The fans cheer ecstatically, but the Black Angel for one, certainly isn’t too happy. He clenches his fist as he rises to his feet, growing irritated of the Secret Agent’s refusal to stay down. Nonetheless, he pushes on. As Johnny unsteadily rises to his feet, the Black Angel snatches him by his neck and hoists the Barracuda off his feet like a rag doll. He holds him a good three feet off the mat for at least three seconds, “-and will you just look at the awesome display of power here!” marvels Comet. “That’s over two hundred pounds he’s holding up like it was nothing!” “Yeah, two hundred pounds of crap,” snickers Bobby. “I’m surprised he isn’t gagging yet!” Aecas finally pivots on the ball of his foot, and swings Johnny down towards the mat with a chokeslam… but instead of the canvas; Aecas offers up his knee and slams Dangerous against it! WHACK! “Chokebreaker!” exclaims Comet, as Johnny glances off Aecas’ knee. He rolls through the air like an F-16 spiraling out of control then crashes… and burns into the ring with a tremendous thud! Aecas quickly drops down over the Barracuda for a cover, and Kivell slides into place. ONE!! TWOOO!!!! NOOOOOO!!!!!! Again Johnny kicks out! Aecas pulls Johnny up to his knees with one hand then reaches down with his other to pull Dangerous the rest of the way up. Aecas pulls him up then thrusts Johnny’s head between his legs with a standing head scissors that will soon lead to an Executioner. The crowd knows the setup and they cheer ecstatically, and though his mind is cloudy, Johnny knows what’s in store for him and he struggles for his freedom. He manages to pull his head loose of the Black Angel’s legs then quickly… with an act of pure desperation, Johnny pumps his fist UP and straight into Aecas’ crown jewels! DING! “OOOOOOOOOOOOOH!!” “What in the hell was that!?” cries Bobby, as Aecas crumples into a fetal position on the mat. “Did you just see that, Comet, did you!? Johnny Dangerous just racked Aecas in the balls! Some hero he is!” “Yet when someone like Citizen Flesher or Maddix do it you condone it,” replies Comet, rather crossly. “Johnny did it out of pure desperation here. There is a huge difference!” Johnny makes for the side of the ring and hauls up the side of it. The crowd cheers him on, and he easily kicks both legs over to the outside and starts heading down the side. Inside the ring the Black Angel lumbers to his feet, reeling from the Barracuda’s attack. His groin is writhing, but he manages to focus long enough to witness Johnny scaling down the cage on the outside of the far side of the ring. He knows it’s over. There is absolutely no way he could stop the Secret Agent at this point as Johnny is halfway down the cage, and in seconds, both of his feet would be touching the ground. His eyes meet up with Dangerous’ and the Barracuda stops—dead in his tracks—and for a moment he stares back. “What’s this?” questions Comet. “A mutual show of respect between these two competitors!? Both men fought valiantly, and no matter whom wins they can both reflect back on this and be equally proud—this has been an incredible match!” Finally, Aecas lowers his head and drops to his knees. It’s over. Once again the Barracuda had slipped through his fingers. Johnny watches then glances down at the outside floor where a referee was standing by, waiting for his feet to touch and to proclaim Johnny Dangerous the winner… and then he looks once more into the ring. He’d be the winner, but had he HAD to pin the Black Angel it’d be far from done, and he knew it. He could feel it. He glances over his shoulder, the fans already cheering… and in the ring, a man is still not physically defeated. Damn. Johnny clenches his fist and takes one solid, deep breath… then begins climbing back up the side of the cage, headed to the top! The fans explode with excitement, the possibility of more action fueling their desire! Aecas looks up, completely expecting the fans jubilation to be for the Barracuda taking the victory, but his jaw drops when he catches sight of Johnny back at the top of the cage. “What in the hell is going on here!” roars Bobby Riley. “What the hell is Johnny doing? He had this match won and now he’s going back inside? He’s got to be the stupidest man to ever grace this federation!” “I can’t believe it either, Robert!” exclaims Comet, shaking his broadcast partner by the arm. “Johnny Dangerous has elected NOT to take the easy way out! He’s not going to leave until he can win in a way that he can be proud of! This match is still going to go on—He’s giving Aecas a second chance to win this match! Such intestinal fortitude the Barracuda displays!” Johnny drops back down into the ring and casually approaches the Dark Angel. Aecas rises to meet him in half bewilderment, half amusement, but he’d be a fool not to take Johnny up on his offer to continue this match. Slowly, they begin circling and the crowd goes utterly ballistic! Suddenly, the two come clashing together, locking up like true gladiators fighting for purchase with the winning bid easily going to the Black Angel. He shoves the Barracuda back and… WHAM! Aecas slams his fist into Johnny’s jaw, sending the Barracuda rocking on his heels! The Dark Angel rushes in, looking to take control, but gets a fist smashed into HIS temple! He staggers to the side and Johnny steps in, reeling back with his fist… WHAM! Again, Aecas gets the winning shot in, plowing his fist into Johnny’s skull! The Barracuda stumbles back and nearly falls flat on his back… nearly. Aecas quickly reaches out and grabs Dangerous by his wrist, just short of Johnny falling flat on his ass. He steps forward to whip him across the ring, but Johnny digs his feet deep into the mat and reverses, whipping Aecas instead… or so he had hoped. Like Johnny before him, the Black Angel quickly applies the breaks then whips himself around to pull Johnny in… WHAAAAM!! … THEN BLAST JOHNNY WITH A THUNDEROUS LARIAT TO AN “OOOOOOOOH!!” FROM THE CROWD! “What a hit from the Black Angel!” shouts Comet, as Johnny is plowed into the ring and lies there convulsing. “He’s making sure Agent Dangerous doesn’t pull anymore evasive maneuvers and sneak into the night.” “Oh, I’m sure Johnny’s kicking himself now,” snickers Bobby. “He had this match won and like a plum fool he comes back into the ring, hungry for more! It is stupid things like this that make me hate the Barracuda with a passion.” Aecas quickly cover for… ONEEE!!! TWOOOOO!!!!!! THRE-NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!! Johnny thrusts his shoulder up, “-and there wasn’t much authority to that!” shouts Bobby. “Aecas has broken his opponent down in a matter of seconds, and all he’s going to need is to put the icing on the cake and end this Secret Agent for once and for all.” Throwing out three fingers, Aecas tries to plead his case to Kivell, but the referee stands his ground, replying with two fingers instead. Knowing that it’d be a futile attempt to press the matter further, the Black Angel goes back to work on Johnny, grabbing the Secret Agent by the head and pulling him to his feet. He pivots on his heel and whips Dangerous across the ring. Johnny hits the ropes and rebounds, aimlessly headed back towards Aecas as the Black Angel rushes forward… KAAAA-RAAAAACK!! … AND ABSOLUTELY SHATTERS JOHNNY’S SKULL LIKE AN EGG AS COMET SHOUTS, “YAKUZAAAAAAAA KICK!” “I thought you were going for Johnny in this match,” questions Bobby. “I’m not rooting for anyone in particular,” Comet innocently replies, “I think I have fairly called this one down the middle.” Cheering rings out louder than it has all night as the Black Angel hovers over his crushed victim, breathing deeply, and seemingly pleased at his handwork. Finally, he drops down to his knees, and presses the palm of his hands into Johnny’s chest as Kivell slides in to count the Black Angel’s victory. ONEEE!!!! TWOOO!!!!!!!!! THRE-NOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!! “BY ZEUS, ODIN, AND HERCULES COMBINED!” shouts Comet, “Johnny gets the shoulder up… again! This man simply refuses to stay down! If you think that last kick out had no authority, than this one had about as much as a Security Guard!” “He’s a fool in my book,” spits Bobby. “It’d be wise of him to just end this and save himself further embarrassment or even worse yet… more abuse at the hands of Aecas! Johnny has got to be the dumbest f<bleep>ing idiot in this Federation!” “My word,” says Comet, simply aghast, “Do you kiss your mother with that mouth? Wait… Don’t answer that; I’m afraid of what the answer might be.” “Oh, shut up, Comet.” Johnny slowly gets back to his feet. Dazed still, the entire room is spinning around his head. Behind him Aecas motions for Johnny to stand up and face him. He notes that the chances off Johnny having any idea that he is standing behind him is slim to none. Hell, at this point he’d be surprised if Johnny could even tell you what day of the week it is, or what show he’s even on. He smiles at the thought then takes off for the near side of the ring. Aecas hits the ropes and ROCKETS off them, speeding back towards Dangerous like a runaway Mack 10! Johnny gains his senses just long enough to see the Dark Angel coming at him, all he can do is stand there and stare like a deer caught in the headlights. Aecas draws his arm back, and a split second before he can connect with another lariat, Johnny’s reflexes snap in! He ducks down and grabs the Black Angel’s shoulder with one hand and reaches between Aecas’ legs with the other and HAULS him over head, and… SLAMS him back-first into the mat! The ring quivers on impact and the fans leap from their seats, wildly cheering their hearts out! “ZOUNDS!” exclaims Comet. “The Barracuda just use the momentum of Aecas coming off them ropes to literally drill the Black Angel into the canvas—such expert timing by the Barracuda!” “Yeah, but both men are down!” shouts Bobby. “Johnny’s too shaken to get up and haul ass over the cage!” After a good five seconds of neither man moving, Johnny finally rolls onto his stomach and pushes up to his hands and knees. He sits there, desperate to recollect himself and get out of the cage. All the while promising never to go back inside again once he is already safely out of the cage. He gets back to his feet and glances over at Aecas. He too is starting to get back up, but Johnny knows that if he wants to win this match he’ll have to keep the Dark Angel from getting up. He races towards the Black Angel… CRACK!! … And Johnny jumps up, extending both feet out, and SLAMS them into the Black Angel’s face, dropping him back into the canvas, flat on his back! Johnny hops back to his feet and trails off, heading towards the nearest turnbuckle, and hastily climbs to the top with the fan’s enthusiasm rising like a hot aired balloon! “And now… Johnny’s going up top,” shouts Comet, “and he is in position for his DEATH FROM ABOVE~!” Though he appreciates the zeal of the crowd, he knows he can’t pay them their respects right now, not after the last time he tried this. Johnny quickly Moonsaults off the top… … Extends both feet out, just before coming down… WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAM!!!! … AND GRINDS BOTH FEET INTO AECAS’ CHEST WITH A MOONSAULT DOUBLE STOMP!! “DEATH FROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM ABOVE~!” calls Comet, “and what tremendous balance by the Barracuda to land without having to take a single step to regain it!” “That’s the same damn move he tried against Tom Flesher on Smarkdown,” recalls Bobby. “Only he hit it this time, and now he’s trying to climb out of the cage again.” In the ring Aecas lies perfectly still, the blow seemingly having knocked his lights out. At least Johnny hopes as he climbs up the side ever so carefully. The crowd cheers wholeheartedly and after a bit of a struggle, he makes it over the top of the cage. He carefully, but quickly descends from the top of the cage and hops down, both feet touching the floor. Kivell quickly calls for the bell, and the fans excitedly leap from their seats in celebration. DING DING DING!!! “The winner of this match,” bellows Funyon, over the roaring crowd, “and now… the number one contender to the S-W-F INTERCONTINENTAL-TELEVISION CHAMPIONSHIP… JOHNNY ‘THE BARRAAAAAAAAACUDA’ DAAAANGEROUUS!!!!” “Johnny wins!” cheers Comet. “And once again the Barracuda is the number one contender to the ICTV Title. He fell in his first attempt against the behemoth, Janus, but now he’s set to face Landon Maddix in his second attempt.” “Don’t forget that it took something short of death before Aecas finally stayed down,” Riley says. “Johnny’ll have to do MUCH better than that if he hopes to contend with the likes of Landon Maddix.” “Well, we’ll have to see about that. That’s another match for another time though. We have one more match still to come for THIS evening still.” “Oh, I can’t wait for these commercials to be over with,” moans Riley. “Our main event is up next. Featuring Tom Flesher, and Landon Maddix versus Toxxic and Jamie Drazon in tag team action! My cup will be overflowing with excitement!” “Overflowing with something, that’s for sure,” says Comet… As we: FADE OUT.

"Welcome back to SWF Storm!" The greeting voice of Cyclone Comet sounds strangely tinny in the air...probably because it's being recorded from a T.V monitor. The camera doing so pans away from the monitor, to reveal Landon Maddix sat casually in front of it...ICTV Championship belt placed over his shoulder and a can of Pepsi Max (obviously) in his hand. To the side of him stands ace reporter Benjamin Hardy, being all but ignored by Maddix which is nothing new. "Yes, welcome back...I'm standing backstage with the ICTV Champion himself Landon "La Cucaracha" Maddix, ahead of a match that very much interests him. Landon..." Hearing his name, Landon finally breaks from his comfort and turns his head towards Hardy. "In a few moments time, Johnny Dangerous and Aecas will be locked inside of a fifteen foot high steel cage to fight it out for number one contendership to your ICTV Championship. And, obviously you're interested in this match..." "Obviously..." "...do you have any thoughts on the match." "Should be a laugh." Hardy pauses, waiting for more of an answer from Maddix, but getting nothing. A long, awkward silence fills the air, until Hardy finally concedes defeat. "Ok...do you have any preference over who wins the contendership?" "Not really. I mean, let's face it Hardy...I'm the ICTV Champion. Everyone else is just a challenger waiting to be overcome. Aecas. Johnny. Doesn't bother me either way." "So, you really have no preference." "Well...look at it this way. Johnny Dangerous has already had his shot at the title. It was, what, a few weeks ago? Janus destroyed him. Janus CRUSHED him. Janus proved that Johnny Dangerous doesn't belong at this level. My level. He can talk all he wants about his little Carribean buddy's ambitions to be the ICTV Champion. He didn't win the belt Johnny and neither will you! I may not be Janus' height, Janus' weight or have Janus' power...but believe me, I will kick your ass if you get the title shot. See, it was MY ambition to be the SWF Cruiserweight Champion back when you had the belt. But I never got the shot. So I'll be damned if now you come running to me looking for a bit of gold and I give you it." With a sigh and a chuckle, Maddix lounges back into his chair and puts his feet up on a footstool sitting in front of the monitor, revealing some blatantly expensive Nike trainers...gold ones, naturally. "As for Aecas...did you watch the SJL Benny boy?" "I worked there..." "Really?" "I interviewed you a bunch of times." Shrugging, Maddix takes another sip of his Pepsi Max. "Meh. You can't have made much of an impression. Anyway...you'll know then what Aecas' record is against me. Poor. I've beaten him roughly three or four times. The only time he beat me was when he was JL World Champion, and even that was some ridiculous Weapons Match that I got forced into for someone's sick enjoyment. Well, you can bet that if the freak gets past Johnny that I WILL beat him again." "Onto tonight...of course, you'll be teaming with Tom Flesher in tonight's main event. Your opponents are Toxxic, who you've never faced in your career...and Jamie Drazon, who you faced on Smarkdown..." "And beat." "And beat, yes..." "In a Boiler Room Brawl." "Yes..." "Just making that clear." Raising his eyes, Hardy clears his throat to fill another silence which fills the air. "Your thoughts on that?" "Well, you have the ICTV Champion and the former two-time World Heavyweight Champion and a number one contender on one team. And on the other, there's the other number one contender, who happens to be a two-time ICTV Champion. Then...there's Jamie Drazon. I proved to the world that Jamie Drazon is a thing of the past. A has-been. Toxxic...I've no problem with him really. He's got that whole Straight Edge thing going, which I kinda admire. And there's no question he's a great wrestler. But just like his precious football team did against Portugal, he's gonna choke tonight." "Aren't you half Spanish?" "Yeah..." "Didn't Spain lose to Portugal too?" "...shut up smartass. If for some reason I'd ever want an opinion on a REAL sport like football, from a Yank, I'll ask for it. Tonight, I'm right where I belong Benny boy. The main event. I'm headlining and set to steal the show one more time. With Tom Flesher on my side...you could call us a 'Dream Team'. As for Toxxic and Drazon...do you really think they can get along? They're total opposites. And that's all the edge me and Tom need to get the victory tonight. Now if you don't mind, I've got an opponent to scout." Hardy nods and quickly takes his leave, while Landon lounges back into his chair...and the scene cuts back to ringside.

CARRY ON MY WAYWARD SONS… There’ll be peace when you are done Lay your weary heads to rest Don’t you cry no more… With these words come an impressive reaction, as we return to Storm with the challengers to the tag belts, Edward James and Ced Ordonez, stepping through the curtain! The crowd roars its approval, cheering for the duo as Funyon announces their arrival! "Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for ONE fall, and it is for the S - W - F WOOOORLD TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIPS! Introducing first, the challengers, at a combined weight of FOUR hundred and eighty-five pounds, the team of Ced Ordonez and Edward James, the WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY-WARD SOOOOOOOOOONS!" "WAY - WARD SONS! WAY - WARD SONS!" We cut over to Bobby Riley and Cyclone Comet at the commentary table, discussing tonight's match as the Wayward Sons go through their usual theatrics. "Bobby Riley alongside Cyclone Comet, live tonight from the Hartford Civic Center in Hartford, Connecticut, and we're getting ready for tonight's tag team title match between the Wayward Sons and the champions, Hollywood Boulevard." "Well, Bobbo," Comet says, "Alan Clark certainly got in Edward James' head Monday night on Smarkdown, and then proceeded to introduce Ced Ordonez as the newest member of his merry band. Tonight is our first REAL chance to see what sort of dividends Clark's shrewd decision-making will pay back!" "What I'm trying to wrap my mind around is how the Wayward Sons are getting this type of reaction," says a baffled Riley. "They simply are not that good, and Hollywood Boulevard is going to expose that tonight!" "And now," Funyon says, "...the CHAMPIONS!" Riley screams out with glee, "And it starts right now!" The melodic, laid-back and synthesizer-heavy opening to "This Is Your Life" by Switchfoot drops on the speakers, and the fans simultaneously stand up and boo as Mike Van Siclen saunters through the curtain, the SWF Tag Team championship slung over his right shoulder, still wearing a broad grin even after the devastating loss Monday night. Behind him steps Todd Cortez, kissing his cross and holding it up in the air, his half of the Tag gold strapped firmly around his waist. Van Siclen tonight wears ice-white tights, adorned with a silver MVS stencil on the right leg, and Cortez wears all-white Tajiri-style pants and a white wifebeater to match. "At a combined weight of four-hundred and sixty-seven pounds, they are the two-time and current tag team champions of the WORLD, looking to make their third defence tonight, this is the team of Mike Van Siclen and Todd Cortez, HOOOOLL - EE - WOOOOOD BOULEVAAAAAAAAAAARD!" "YOU GUYS SUCK! YOU GUYS SUCK!" Van Siclen simply points to his tag belt, grinning shrewdly as he climbs up the ring steps, stepping into the ring. Cortez follows suit, and the two hand their tag belts to referee Nick Soapdish before going to their corner to prep for the match. Soapdish hands the belts to a ring attendant, signalling for the bell... *DING DING DING* ... and this contest is underway! "Folks," Riley points out, "Edward James has faced Hollywood Boulevard in competition for the tag team championships once before, teaming with Alan Clark. Tonight, he teams with Ced Ordonez, and we'll see how that affects his strategy and performance tonight!" In the Wayward Sons corner, Ced Ordonez motions Edward James out of the ring, obviously wanting to start the match off by himself. Shrugging a bit, James steps out of the ring and onto the apron, grasping the tag rope and watching intently. Ordonez turns to the Hollywood Boulevard corner, peering at both Van Siclen and Cortez through his Gundam-esque mask and extending an arm, beckoning Hollywood Boulevard to "just bring it", much to the delight of the fans! Van Siclen waves Cortez out of the ring, and turns to Ordonez, a faint hint of a smile on his face. "Citizen Ordonez stepping into the ring first for the Wayward Sons," Comet notes. "...and as a result, Van Siclen will step in first for the Boulevard," Riley shoots back. "Van Siclen realizes that Ordonez is the more experienced of the two Wayward Sons, and he wants to counteract that by facing off with him." "Way to show some faith in your partner," Comet replies, a hint of sarcasm in his superheroic tone. Van Siclen eyes Ordonez, the two men staring down and circling a bit, feeling each other out, neither wanting to make the first move. Ordonez, eager to shake some of the rust off, bites first, and he charges Van Siclen, locking the Spectacle in a collar-and-elbow tie-up. The two struggle against one another for a while, and Van Siclen uses his weight advantage, shoving Ordonez off and into the ropes! The Bemani Cross Wizard hits the ropes, his speed showing as he comes flying back at Van Siclen and leaps into the air, looking to send Van Siclen to the mat with a cross body block, but Van Siclen catches him in midair! Van Siclen holds Ordonez there, his right arm holding Ordonez's neck while the other arm is between Ordonez's legs, holding the upper one. Van Siclen shifts Ordonez's weight around, lifting Ordonez's legs and placing them on his right shoulder, holding them in place and taking a couple of steps before jumping forward, driving Ordonez into the mat with a quick powerslam! Van Siclen gets to his feet, putting a boot to Ordonez's midsection and causing the Wayward Son to crumple into a fetus-like position on the mat. "Van Siclen with a crisp powerslam," Riley says, "taking control early in this match." Van Siclen turns away from Ordonez, looking over at the Wayward Son corner and motioning to Edward James to just fucking bring it. James, incensed, tries to step over the top rope, but referee Soapdish goes to block him! Smiling about making his own opportunities, Van Siclen rolls Ordonez onto his stomach, grabbing him by the spiky hair and dragging him over to the ropes. In the Wayward Sons corner, James begins screaming at Soapdish, trying to point out what Van Siclen is doing, but Soapdish (as all refs do) interprets this the wrong way and tries ever-harder to keep James out of the ring! Van Siclen chances a glance at the Wayward Sons corner, and he can see he has plenty of time, as James just keeps on bringing the distraction. Back to work goes Mike, as he grabs Ordonez's head, placing his neck Adam's-apple-first on the bottom rope. Van Siclen stands to his full height, nonchalantly putting his boot on the back of Ordonez's neck and stepping on it, grinding the Wizard's neck into the bottom rope! Ordonez struggles against the move, and in the Wayward Sons corner James gives up trying to explain, just grabbing the tag rope and sitting down in protest of Soapdish. Soapdish, satisfied by this move, turns around to see Van Siclen illegally choking Ordonez, and he dashes over to shove Van Siclen off of Cortez! "ONE!" "TWO!" "THREE!" "FOUR!" "FI --" Van Siclen backs off, holding his hands in the air as if to say "Yo, it wasn't me." Soapdish gets in Van Siclen's face, scolding the Spectacle, but Van Siclen waves him off, turning to his corner and tagging in Cortez. "Tag made to Cortez," Riley says. "But not after some ILLEGAL MANEUVERING BY VAN SICLEN!" Comet cries. "That's just sick and disgusting and evil! Zenon should be infuriated that his referees are letting this happen!" "Oh, Comet," Riley says sweetly. "I'm sure Zenon will deal." Cortez enters the ring, Ced getting to his feet and brushing himself off a bit. The Bemani Cross Wizard glances over at Cortez, and they both stare at each other for a moment before Cortez raises a hand up, calling for a test of strength. Ced looks around to the crowd and they boo back in response, but Ordonez likes his chances and raises his hand up to meet Cortez's. As both hands lock together, the Urban Legend brings his boot up towards the abdomen of Ced. However, Ordonez blocks the kick, shoving Cortez's leg back down to the ground before falling over to his right, bringing Quiz over with him as the Urban Legend ends up on the wrong side of an armdrag takedown! Todd snaps right back to his feet, charging Ced once again, but Ordonez just repeats the process, tossing Cortez over again with yet another armdrag! "Impressive showing from Ordonez here, the wily veteran showing how he can still dominate the newcomers," Comet comments, singing the praise of the former Bemani Cross Wizard and making Riley sick to his stomach. Meanwhile, in the ring, Cortez tries again, going after Ced. Ced bends over into a ready position, ready to armdrag Todd over once again, but Cortez surprises Ced by coming to a stop! Ordonez stands up stiff, but that's all he can do as Todd capitalizes on his element of surprise with a roundhouse kick that sends Ced to the mat. The fans boo Cortez as he grabs Ordonez, taking advantage of the match for the time being. Riley laughs at Comet before continuing his commentary. "No matter what, Comet, you had to know that Ced would have ring rust, and that's a prime example of it right there! Hollywood Boulevard is fresh! It's hip!" "Whatever, Bobbo. I'm still holding out hope on the Wayward Sons, because at least they aren't Citizen Mike Van Siclen!" Cortez doesn't let up on Ced, keeping him on the mat and stomping away at the fallen Ordonez, a move obviously picked up from Van Siclen. After a series of three stomps, Todd grabs Ced by his head, bringing Ordonez to his feet. Todd pushes Ced into a neutral corner, keeping Ordonez away from his partner and bringing his left arm up, catching Ced with a nasty forearm! Ced's head snaps over, and Cortez brings his right arm around, giving Ced another forearm to the face. Ordonez is in trouble as his chin is lifted up in the air, exposing his chest as Quiz chops it, lifting the chin again, chopping the chest of Ordonez once again, and then backing up out of the corner slightly before charging in with a huge avalanche! "Beautiful maneuvering by Cortez!" Riley boasts, "Using the maneuvers he learned from Van Siclen, Cortez is taking it to Ordonez in the corner!" Ced staggers out of the corner after being worked over, and Cortez grabs Ced, keeping him under the control of Hollywod Boulevard as both small men move to the corner. Cortez reaches out his hand and slaps it with the reaching hand of Van Siclen, as the Spectacle enters the ring. Cortez performs an arm wringer on Ordonez, keeping the Wizard under control, twisting his arm as Van Siclen moves in for the kill, bringing up a boot and slamming it into the solar plexus of Ced! Ordonez stumbles back, rubbing his head a little bit in an attempt to soothe the pain before drifting over to Van Siclen, who grabs Ordonez, locking him up in a collar-and-elbow tie-up! Ordonez, gets low, using the lower center of gravity against Mike, pushing the Spectacle back into a neutral turnbuckle. Quickly, however, Van Siclen latches onto the top rope, and Soapdish starts counting! "ONE!" "TWO!" Ordonez breaks the hold with little prompting, backing up a bit and charging at Van Siclen, looking for the avalanche - but Mike hits the mat and grapevines the Wizard's legs, sending him face-first into the bottom turnbuckle with a huge drop toe hold! The fans boo a tiny bit as Van Siclen stands up, brushing the hair out of his face and looking at Ordonez, who slowly gets to his feet in the corner. The look in Ced’s face says it plainly - you’re a dead one, Mr. Mike. “Van Siclen knocking Ordonez face first into the bottom turnbuckle,” Riley says, “giving Ordonez just enough rope to hang himself with! I'll tell you this, Comet, Ordonez has been touted as the smart-working veteran, but it's Van Siclen that's made smart maneuvers tonight!” "Possibly, Bobbo," Comet replies, rubbing his chin, "but I'll tell you this much, Citizen Ordonez's attacks are barely missing right now, and as Citizen Van Siclen wears himself out, those attacks are going to start connecting!" Ordonez steps out of the corner, wiping sweat off of his face as Van Siclen approaches him, and the two lock up again! This time, Van Siclen wastes no time, whipping Ordonez hard into the ropes! Ordonez hits them, coming flying back at Van Siclen and leaping high into the air, wrapping his legs around Van Siclen's neck and bringing him to the mat with a nasty hurricanrana! “OOOOOOOOOOOOOH!” "WAY - WARD SONS! WAY - WARD SONS!" A chant breaks out as Ordonez pops back to his feet, finally getting one-up on Van Siclen as Mike grabs his back in pain, obviously smarting from the hurricanrana. He gets to his feet as well, glaring Ordonez down and approaching him, looking to lock up for the fourth time - but Ced simply stares at him, charging forward and jumping into the air, cracking Van Siclen's skull with a nasty flying forearm! Van Siclen grabs his head in pain as Ordonez walks over to him, grabbing him by his long blonde locks and lifting him to his feet. "Ordonez FINALLY gets the advantage on Van Siclen," Comet cries, "and it looks like the Wayward Sons may take control of this match!" Ordonez grabs Van Siclen by the hair, bringing him over to the Wayward Sons corner and tagging in Edward James, who steps into the ring to a surprisingly decent reaction! James smiles as Ced holds Van Siclen in a half-nelson, and levels a nasty shot at Van Siclen's midsection, causing the Spectacle to double over harshly in pain. Ced steps out of the ring, smiling slightly as he prepares to let James do some dirrty work, to paraphrase Nelly. James grabs Van Siclen by the long blonde locks, lifting the Spectacle to his feet. Eddy J knees Van Siclen in the stomach, doubling him over, and then wraps one huge arm around Van Siclen’s neck to put him in a side headlock. James then turns, turning Van Siclen’s head with him to put the Spectacle into neckbreaker position. The Albertan Assassin pauses for a few moments, waiting to catch Van Siclen off guard before driving his neck into his shoulder - but Mike doesn’t like being caught off guard, and he whips his leg back… *CHING!* …catching Matthews in the nuts with a back kick! "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" The crowd lets their feelings for the maneuver be known as James lets go of the neck hold, clutching his genitals. Van Siclen whips around, going in front of Edward and planting a knee in James' stomach to double him over, and then wrapping one arm over his neck to put him into a side headlock. Mike holds up one arm, catching boos from the crowd like a lightning rod as the Spectacle cockily pauses for a few moments, before whirling around, grabbing James around the neck and driving him face-first into the mat! The crowd roars out in boos as James grabs his neck in pain, the blow obviously doing a fair amount of damage to the huge Albertan. "Van Siclen with the Code Red," Riley cries, "and he took the momentum out of James like THAT!" "Yeah, yeah, Bobbo," Riley says. "Anyone can CHEAT their way to an UNEARNED victory." James gets to his feet quickly, however, without the assistance of Van Siclen. As Eddy J looks for the challenger, he finds the man he’s looking for putting his head under his jaw! Van Siclen sets James up for the sitout jawbreaker, and looks ready to hit it when Edward reaches forward with his huge hands, wrapping them around Van Siclen’s neck! Mike moves back suddenly, trying to get away from the neckhold, but James lifts him into the air, throwing him down onto his back like a rag doll! The crowd roars out in cheers as Van Siclen struggles to his feet, grabbing his back in pain. "James reverses the sitout jawbreaker!" cries Comet. "He's showing that anger, just like Alan Clark told him to!" In the Wayward Sons corner, Ordonez cheers James on, as Cortez begs for a tag and James grabs Van Siclen, planting a huge knee into his stomach to double the champion over. As Van Siclen bends over, practically begging to be suplexed, Matthews reaches up with his huge, ham-sized fist, violently driving his fist into the small of MVS’ back! The crowd actually cheers the move, a "LET'S GO ED - WARD!" chant begins to form as Van Siclen falls to the mat, reaching out to the Hollywood Boulevard corner and looking for the tag! "That some people call that a move disgusts me," Riley notes. "It gets the job done, Bobbo!" "On the subject of 'getting the job done'," Riley says softly, a sick smile on his face, "I hear that it’s become rather popular for pregnant women to drive their fists into their stomach, much as James just did to Van Siclen." "Citizens, I don't think I like where this is going." "Yes, they call it the ‘Instant Miscarriage’." "…Christ almighty, Bobbo, that was vulgar, and nigh inappropriate to boot." James, quite on fire now, grabs Van Siclen by the hair, lifting him to his feet. The big man grabs Van Siclen around the neck, going to the side of the champion and grabbing Van Siclen’s inside leg. James lifts Mike up, looking for the backdrop - but Mike backflips at the apex of James' lift, landing on his feet behind the big man! Thinking quickly, Van Siclen plants both of his hands into the Albertan’s back and shoves him into the ropes! James comes back hard… and runs right into a high dropkick from Van Siclen, right to the jaw! The challenger hits the mat hard, grabbing his neck in pain, as Van Siclen lifts him right back to his feet. Van Siclen grins a bit, backing away from James and eyeing him, as the big man shakes the cobwebs out and begins watching Van Siclen as well. Van Siclen grins cockily, stepping forward and offering up his arms for a collar-and-elbow tie-up. James, now knowing his own power and knowing that he holds a significant advantage, gleefully locks up with the Spectacle, grabbing his arms. "If you’re just tuning in you probably think Van Siclen is downright crazy!" Riley calls. "Offering to tie-up with a man who has four inches and fifty pounds on you is NOT sound strategy, ESPECIALLY this late in a match!" "This is an absolutely disgusting act by Citizen Van Siclen," Comet says, "deliberately trying to make Citizen Edward look like a fool!" The two struggle a bit, each trying to gain the upper hand, but the fresher and more powerful James does, using his immense power advantage to force Van Siclen into a neutral turnbuckle. James backs off a little bit, then charges in, looking to pancake Van Siclen against the turnbuckle with an avalanche - but Van Siclen is just too damn coy for that, as he turns in the buckle and drives his shoulder into James’ sternum! James stumbles back, and Van Siclen quickly hops up onto the second rope, measuring Eddy J before leaping off, putting his best foot forward and right into Eddy J’s face with a huge missile dropkick! James hits the mat hard, but he gets right back to his feet, seething and looking to take out some of his frustration on Van Siclen! "Van Siclen looking to humiliate James," Riley says, "and so far, one could say he is succeeding!" "This isn't right, Bobbo," Comet says. "Van Siclen is just taking advantage of James in there, and it's not right, it's not fair to Edward!" James stalks Van Siclen, looking to mow the Spectacle down, but Van Siclen holds his ground, offering up his arms once more for another collar-and-elbow tie-up! James moves in for it, but Van Siclen ducks underneath, going behind James and wrapping him in a rear waistlock! Van Siclen holds James there for a few moments, ducking a couple of wildly thrown elbows thrown by James in an attempt to escape the hold before moving up to a front headlock on the big man! Van Siclen holds James’ head in place, bringing high knees into his face to a round of boos from the crowd! James winces in pain as Van Siclen’s knee cracks against his face once! Twice! Three times! Van Siclen holds James in the headlock some more, grinning smugly as he moves back to a rear waistlock, grabbing James’ inside leg and lifting him up and over with a huge backdrop suplex! Van Siclen quickly gets to his feet, looking down at James with contempt in his eyes and pointing up the ramp. "Just go home, son." "We saw Van Siclen do this the last time these two teams locked up!" Riley calls. "We saw Van Siclen dominate James just like this, we saw Van Siclen tell James to go home, and right now it's happening again!" "Well, last time Citizen James curled up in a ball and gave up," Comet says, "but I think he'll behave differently this time!" Indeed, the situation looks different right now as James gets to his feet, a look of pure unadulterated anger in his eyes as Van Siclen, seemingly oblivious, offers his arms up to James for yet another collar-and-elbow tie-up. James is absolutely furious, and he gets to his feet and charges forward, laying Van Siclen out with an obliterating lariat! "OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!" "WAY - WARD SONS! WAY - WARD SONS!" Van Siclen hits the mat hard, twitching a little bit but very obviously out of it as James looks down at Van Siclen, a bit confused. He grabs Van Siclen by the hair, but from the Wayward Sons corner Ordonez screams at him to "MAKE THE PIN!" So James does. Referee Soapdish counts, and the crowd counts along! "ONE!" "TWO!" "THREE! NO!" Van Siclen JUST gets the shoulder up, and James gets to his feet, bending down to grab Van Siclen and lift him up as well when... *CRACK!* "JESUS CHRIST ALMIGHTY!" Out of nowhere comes Todd Cortez with a HUGE superkick on James, that echoes throughout the building! James crumples to the mat in a heap, and Soapdish whips around, shoving Cortez and yelling at him to get out of the ring! Cortez obliges, hopping outside to the floor and running around the ring as Van Siclen, seeing James' felled body, makes the pinfall attempt, the furious crowd yelling for James, and for Van Siclen to lose, and just expressing their anger! "ONE!" "YOU GUYS SUCK!" From the Wayward Sons corner, Ordonez tries to enter the ring, but Cortez grabs him by the leg, pulling him to the floor! "TWO!" "WAY - WARD SONS!" Backstage, Alan Clark is watching his proteges... "THREE!" ... lose again. *DING DING DING!* "This Is Your Life" starts up again as Ordonez and Cortez brawl on the outside, Van Siclen barely alive on the inside but pushing himself to a sitting position, shaking the kinks out of his head once more as referee Soapdish hands him his half of the SWF Tag Team championships once more. "Ladies and gentlemen, YOUR winners, and STILL the SWF TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS... HOLLLLLLYWOOOD BOULEVARD!" "The Boulevard wins again!" Riley crows. "That may be the case, Bobbo," Comet says, "but you must admit that had Cortez not BLATANTLY CHEATED, James would've finished Van Siclen off!" "That may be the case also, Comet," Riley says smugly, "but for the second time in a row, the Boulevard has gotten the better of Edward James! Certainly, these two entities will lock up again..." "...and next time," Comet says, "I am certain that James will come out on top!" In the ring, Van Siclen clutches his tag team gold, and Cortez slides in as well, helping Van Siclen to his feet. The two men celebrate, the Tag gold clutched in their arms as we... FADE OUT.

“Welcome back, citizens, to the July 2nd edition of SWF Storm!” Comet’s voice rings out over the deafening crowd, as SWF Storm explodes back onto the airwaves! The crowd inside of the Hartford Civic Center in Hartford, Connecticut, is collectively more excited than a furry in a pet store, as the camera pans around them and finally goes down to ringside, where Cyclone Comet and Bobby Riley sit. “We’ve had a thrilling night of action,” Comet testifies, “and it’s only going to get hotter, Bobbo! I can’t wait to watch citizens Tom Flesher and Landon Maddix team up to take on Toxxic and Jamie Drazon! That’s a dream match, Bobbo!” “And I can’t wait to go back to my hotel and watch Assablanca, with Hump-hrey Bogart. Comet, the truth of the matter is simple; Jamie Drazon is the weak link, and he’s going to be destroyed. Flesher and Maddix are a dream team, for god’s sake!” “Well, Bobbo, whatever you say. Up next, however, we have The Masked Man, our Sexual Maskosaurus, defending his newly won United States Championship against the man he defeated for it, Alan Clark. Clark has found new focus lately with his Wayward Sons, a group that closely resembles Butch Cassidy’s Hole in the Wall Gang!” “Yeah, if Butch was a half-retarded, incompetent wrestler that made the hicks in ‘Deliverance’ look civilized, and Sundance was a has-been referee whose greatest accomplishment was in an arcade.” “What about Edward James?” Comet asks, not amused, but curious. “Etta Place.” “You’re awful.” “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,” Funyon finally calls out, “the following contest is scheduled for one fall, and it is for the Smarks Wrestling Federation United States CHAMPIONSHIP!” Kansas’ “Carry On My Wayward Son” hits, and the Hartford crowd cheers wildly! The self-proclaimed leader of the Wayward Sons steps onto the ramp, and begins walking down towards the ring, focus etched on his face! “From Long Beach, California, weighing in at 225 pounds, representing the Wayward Sons, this is ALAAAAAAAAAAAAAN CLAAAAAAAAAAAARK!!” Clark slaps some fans’ hands as he reaches the ringside area, climbing up the stairs and stepping through the ropes, into the ring. “And his opponent…” With that, the lights go into strobe mode and “Misirlou” hits, the fans recoiling with a negative reaction as the United States Champion appears at the top of the ramp. “From Craiova, Romania, but currently residing in Orofino, Idaho, weighing in at 243 pounds, he is the S-W-F UNITED STATES CHAAAAAMPION, he is THE MAAAAAAAASSSSSKED MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!!!” Mask coolly walks down to the ring, holding his briefcase, the US Title belt out of sight. He places the briefcase down and jogs up the steps, slingshotting over the ropes and into the ring! He removes his sports jacket, revealing the title belt strapped to his waist. He removes the belt and hands it to referee Nick Soapdish, who displays it to both Clark and Mask, who both nod. Soapdish holds it up to the crowd, before calling for the bell to begin the match! *DING DING DING* Masked Man, with a confident grin behind his mask, approaches the center of the ring, and Alan Clark quickly follows suit. TMM lifts his left hand up in the air, calling to his opponent with the international symbol for the test of strength. The wayward son obliges, and the two lock both of their hands together in a Greco-Roman knucklelock! The two begin their ultimate strength test, but before anything can come of it- *WHAM!* -Masked Fury lifts his knee up, right into Clark’s gut! Alan doubles over and the Hartford fans jeer, but TMM quickly holds onto the advantage by clubbing a forearm shot down against the back of his opponent’s neck, and then shoving him back against the turnbuckle! Masked Man proceeds to fire off hard punches to the face of the former champion, rocking him back against the corner with each blow! “Our Sexual Maskosaurus is taking the advantage early,” Comet points out, “undoubtedly trying to dispose of his opponent before it gets messy. He wants to hold onto that title, and he wants to do it quick.” “Believe me, Comet,” Riley replies, “Mask is in no way like Clark. I mean, Clark partook in a sixty minute match to win the title, and lost it on his first defense. Mask isn’t a twit; he knows what he has to do to keep the title. Even if it means a little bit of cheating here and there, he’ll do it to win.” TMM grabs the dazed Clark by the head and pulls him out of the corner, but then turns him around, going right back and slamming his opponent’s head into the turnbuckle! The wayward son recoils back, and Masked Fury holds onto his head and rams it back into the turnbuckle a second time – no! Clark puts his hands out against the ropes and blocks it, before shooting his leg back, connecting with a kick to TMM’s left knee! This surprise blow causes the champion to stumble back, allowing Clark to turn around and dish out some punishment. He rears back, slapping against Mask’s dress shirt with knife-edge chops! *SMACK!* “WOOOOO!” *SMACK!* “WOOOOO!” This suitably stuns the champion, allowing Alan to grab TMM by the wrist and whip him into the ropes. Off the rebound, Clark drops down to the mat and scissors Mask’s ankle with his legs, sending him down face-first to the mat with a drop toe hold. Clark quickly gets to his feet and grabs Masked Fury by the legs, turning him over onto his back. He then focuses on the left leg, twisting around and dropping the point of his elbow right into his opponent’s knee! The Masked Man hollers in pain, and Alan gets up to his feet, dropping ANOTHER elbow onto the knee! The challenger gets to his feet again for a third elbow, but Mask is able to escape Clark’s clutches by shifting all of his weight to one side, and then quickly rolling to the other, rolling away from Clark and under the bottom rope, out of the ring! “Clark is taking an approach similar to Masked Fury’s,” Comet states, “going right for that knee to set up the Wrath of Clark. He obviously wants his title back, and he’s not being paid by the hour.” “Funny you should say ‘by the hour’, Comet,” Riley gleefully states, “because it took an hour for Alan Clark to win the United States Championship, and one whole match to make it all worthless.” “Bobbo, if at any time you’re ready to stop harping on that and focus on the match, let us know.” “ONE!” Nick Soapdish wastes no time in beginning the obligatory ten-count, but Masked Man pays no attention to it as he leans against the guardrail, nursing his knee. “TWO!” Clark, meanwhile, is not about to win by count-out, because he wants that title, and boy, he wants it bad! “THREE!” …so, Alan goes between the middle and top ropes, and onto the floor! TMM notices this immediately, and begins moving away from Clark as quickly as possible, resorting to a light limp. Clark, the much fresher of the two, is able to jog and chase Mask, so Masked Fury resorts to sliding back in the ring to continue the match. He hustles to his feet, and as Clark slides back in with him, he drops the point of his elbow down on the back of his opponent’s head! Successfully stunning the wayward son, Mask gets to his feet and brings Clark with him, sending two hard right hands into his skull. TMM then traps Alan in a front facelock, taking a hold of his tights and, in one swift motion, he snaps back, flipping his opponent over and onto his back with a quick suplex. Fluidly, Masked Fury holds onto the facelock and turns onto his stomach, turning the pressure up to a whole new level with this grounded front facelock! “You want some input, Comet? I’ll give you some input,” Riley snipes, “see, I’m going to tell you how deliciously smart the Masked Man is. Do you remember how Mask beat Clark on Lockdown?” “Yes, Bobbo, a reverse, inverted Cautionary Tale of Sexual Maskosaurus brainbuster.” “Very good, Comet!” Riley commends, condescendingly, “now, that isn’t the kind of move you just shake off, like Clark did to the Rage Unleashed. See, Mask knows that, and he’s gonna squeeze Clark’s head until it pops like warm champagne. It’s weak enough already.” “LET’S – GO – CLARK!” “LET’S – GO – CLARK!” The fans in the Hartford Civic Center become vocal, cheering for the wayward son and against the evil Romanian. The Masked Man can only grimace menacingly at the fans, as he continues to keep a tight front facelock on Clark. Nick Soapdish gets on his knees and checks on him, but Alan obviously (obviously!) refuses to quit. He begins flailing his arms about, trying to keep from losing feeling in his limbs. With the Connecticut crowd’s increased clapping and stomping, though, the ADRENALINE~ courses through Clark’s veins, and he rises to a knee! Mask gets to his feet to hold off his opponent’s new found energy, and once Alan regains his footing, TMM releases the front facelock and drives the tip of his elbow into the back of Clark’s neck once, twice, and thrice! Mask takes a step back, proud of his work, but is surprised when Alan nails a stiff kick to his knee! *CRACK!* Alan then rears back, hitting a punch right into TMM’s face! Another kick to the knee! Another punch to the face! The wayward son takes Mask’s wrist and shoots him towards the ropes! Masked Fury rebounds, and Clark swings his leg around for a roundhouse kick…no, the champ sidesteps it, and kicks Alan square in the gut, with his good leg! With his opponent doubled over, the Sexual Maskosaurus runs to the parallel ropes and, letting his momentum carry him, he grabs a hold of Alan’s head and twists around, falling down to the mat with a spinning neckbreaker! As soon as they hit the mat, TMM floats over on top of Alan, pressing down for the first pin of the match! “ONE!” “TW – NO!” Nick Soapdish calls off the fall, as Clark gets his shoulder up before two is even registered. “I’ll say this much about the US Champion,” Comet begins, “he’s tenacious; tenacious like a fox. Despite the dubious means in which he won the title-“ “DUBIOUS MEANS?!” Riley cries, outraged, “that’s OUTRAGEOUS! It was a fatal four-way match, Mask caught Clark off-guard, and drilled his head into the mat. Nothing out of the ordinary, Comet; it was all within the rules. Don’t call it dubious just because Clark wasn’t watching his back.” Comet sighs. Inside, we all do. “What the hell does that mean?” Riley asks. Nobody knows. The Masked Man, annoyed but not frustrated, brings Clark back up off of the mat, and stands behind him. He positions his head under Alan’s arm, and takes a hold of his torso, lifting him up for a back suplex…but the challenger uses his quickness to flip OVER Mask’s shoulder, landing behind him on his feet! Before TMM even realizes what has happened, Clark grabs Mask by the back of the, well, mask, and runs forward, falling down and smashing Mask’s face into the mat with a face crusher! With his opponent subdued, Alan runs to the nearest ropes, and as he comes back, he leaps into the air, legs extended, landing across Masked Fury’s own legs with his back, in a senton splash! “AL – AN! AL – AN! AL – AN!” The Hartford fans are again enthusiastic, cheering for the wayward son. Masked Man cries out in pain over his knees, but expecting the oncoming leg onslaught, he smartly rolls towards the ropes, holding onto the bottom one for dear life. Clark advances despite this, but referee Nick Soapdish holds him back, much to the chagrin of Alan, and the fans. Masked Fury slowly rises up, on the opposite side of the ropes, on the apron. Once he gets to a standing position, Clark rushes in, ducking a Masked punch and trapping his opponent in a front facelock, preparing for a vertical suplex over the ropes and back into the ring. However, as Alan begins lifting, Mask pivots around and drills his elbow into the back of the wayward son’s neck! Clark releases the hold, allowing TMM to take him by the head and run towards the turnbuckle, driving his head right into it! With Clark against the turnbuckle, the Sexual Maskosaurus quickly walks over to the turnbuckle and climbs over it, before trapping Clark in a front facelock. With that, he lets out a loud, heinous battle cry: “I AM KEYSER SOZE!” …and leaps off the turnbuckle, twisting around and spiking Clark’s head into the mat with a tornado DDT! “The Cyclone Complex!” Comet cries, “but again, our Sexual Maskosaurus takes the cheap way out of an Alan Clark offensive flurry!” “Alan Clark’s offense IS offensive,” Riley replies, “the guy can’t even keep a hold on his opponent long enough to keep an advantage. Mask is going to keep milking that psychological advantage until he’s declared the winner.” “Bobbo, what is your opinion on what Mask just shouted?” “I’m going to go watch ‘The Usual Suspects’ again and look for his cameo.” Mask again crawls over on top of Clark, and Nick Soapdish drops down to count the pinfall! “ONE!” “TWO!” AND A KICKOUT! Without skipping a beat, Masked Fury sits Clark up and wraps his arm tightly around his opponent’s throat, squeezing the life out of him, as well as applying pressure to his neck, with a chinlock! “MASKED – MAN – SUCKS!” “MASKED – MAN – SUCKS!” “Despite the relative, well, boringness of this move,” Comet notes, “it’s serving its purpose in wearing down Citizen Clark and giving Mask time to rest his body and, specifically, his knee.” “Boring or not, Comet, it’s smart,” Riley replies, “I mean, who cares what the fans and a guy in a leotard thinks, just do what’s going to win you the match.” Soapdish drops to one knee and asks Clark if he wants to quit, but the wayward son lets out an emphatic ‘no!’ (actually, it’s more like a muffled ‘mmprh!’) Again, Clark begins flailing his arms out and about, and the Hartford fans begin clapping in unison, but TMM tries to downplay this, squeezing in tighter with the chinlock and moving down to the mat…no, Clark refuses to go down! He plants his hands against the mat and holds fast, eventually turning and rising up to his knees! Not about to go through the same old, same old as last time, Mask simply lets go of the chinlock at this point, steps back, and swings his leg forward, punting Clark RIGHT in the FACE! *SMACK!* “SHIIIIIIIIIT!” Unfortunately, Mask used his injured left leg to kick. Clark falls down to the mat, but so does the Masked Man, clutching his left leg and spouting off obscenities, some in English and some in Romanian. Clark is the first to get up, removing his hand from his face and revealing a bloody nose. Nevertheless, he walks over to a corner, which he leans against and waits for TMM to get to his feet. Mask proves to be not as intelligent as before, walking right into Alan’s clutches. Not literally, as he more or less stumbles into them. Seeing the challenger in the corner, Masked Fury views this as an opportunity, and fires off a right hand…which is blocked. Clark easily shoves the arm away and drops down, pulling Mask’s left leg out form under him and sending him to the mat with a single leg takedown! “Now,” Riley calls in anticipation, “I can’t wait to see how Clark blows this advantage. That is, if you can even call it that. A fluke takedown? He won’t even be able to do ANYTHING with this.” “You’d be surprised, Bobbo,” Comet chimes in, “Citizen Clark can be a very crafty worker, making the best of a situation out of nothing.” “Get off his dick, Comet, you’ve seen him in this match. He’s out of it!” With Mask down, and with Mask’s leg in his possession, Alan Clark tries to, well, make the best of a situation out of nothing. He holds onto the leg and flips forward, rolling over TMM’s body and possibly tearing his hamstring apart! Masked Man lets out a mighty cry, but Alan rolls through with it and gets up to his feet, again taking a hold of Fury’s leg and bringing him up by it. TMM now stands on one leg, and, unlike the old-hat ‘one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest’, Mask decides to STAND UP for his rights and KICK things off, leaping into the air and shooting his right leg out with an enzuiguri… DUCKED! Alan still holds onto the leg, but as TMM kicks his leg back with a mule kick, Clark decides to let go and step back, causing Masked Fury to land face-first on the mat. The wayward son drops to the mat and traps him in a waistlock, bringing him up to a standing base…no, Mask performs a standing switch, wrapping his arms around Clark in a waistlock of his own! He fluidly arches back, flipping Clark up and over with a *Romanian* Suplex…but Clark rotates a full 360 degrees, landing on his feet, unbeknownst to the Sexual Maskosaurus! Alan quickly lunges forward and downward, driving his shoulder into Mask’s left knee, dropping him to the mat with a chop block! “You want to talk about losing advantages,” Comet turns the tables, “Mask just blew a perfectly good opportunity to rebound, and he got even more pain in his knee to go with it!” “You just wait,” Riley shoots back, “that neck’ll come back to haunt Clark, I tell you. All the wear and tear on his neck, from Janus or from the Iron Man match or from Mask, is going to come full circle and lead to his downfall.” “Bobbo, please, speak of something besides the usual anti-Clark and pro-Sexual Maskosaurus banter!” “Hey, you asked me to analyze the match. I’m analyzing till I can’t anal no more.” After reversing and taking advantage of another one of the Masked Man’s suplexes, Clark moves over to TMM’s lower body and stomps on the knee twice, before reaching over and grabbing his head, pulling him up to his feet. Alan utilizes a front facelock and takes a hold of the left leg, lifting Mask up as if to execute a fisherman’s buster, or the vaunted High Noon fisherman’s knee crusher. However, this time it’s Masked Fury doing the suplex reversal, as he shifts all of his weight, bringing himself over Clark’s shoulder and out of his clutches, onto the ground behind him! He takes a millisecond to regain his bearings, and then captures Clark in a waistlock, arching back and, this time, completing the Romanian Suplex! The wayward son lands right on his lower neck, and he lets out a cry of pain. Mask, meanwhile, rolls towards the ropes and gives himself time to recover. “Again,” Comet points out, “Masked Fury executes a move that both harms Clark and gives him time to recover. This match has been so back and forth, though, it’s difficult to keep up with what’s going on!” “Difficult, yeah, if you have ADD,” Riley snipes back, “say, Comet, you see that girl in 42A? I think she’s flashing us!” Mask uses the ropes to pull himself up, and seeing Clark on the mat, he runs (well, he kinda limps) towards him and then focuses all of his weight on his knee, dropping it onto Alan’s forehead! TMM grabs Alan by his mullet and brings him up to a standing position, and then simply shoves him against the corner. Masked Fury goes all Barbara Streisand (the way he was, get it?) on the wayward son, targeting the head with right-hand shots to the wounded area! To cap it all off, TMM rears back… *SMACK!* …and slaps the taste out of Alan’s mouth! No, apparently that didn’t cap it all off, as he backs up a few steps, and swings his leg around, hitting a BIG roundhouse kick to Clark’s head! *CRAAACK!* “FUCK!” Romanians aren’t quick learners, apparently. Yes, Mask again used his left leg to kick Clark, and as a reflex, he falls backwards, onto the mat. Desperate to get some recovery time, he rolls under the bottom rope and to the outside of the ring. “Well, Bobbo, whether Citizen Clark knew it or not, he targeted the right knee of the Masked Man!” “Comet, he targeted the left knee.” “…I meant the *correct* knee,” Comet replies, rolling his eyes, “the left leg is the dominant leg of this Romanian, and if he doesn’t think about it, he’ll use that leg, harming himself in the process! You have to give him props for that.” “Really don’t.” “ONE!” Soapdish again begins his count-out, keeping this contest fair and rectangle. Mask limps over to the timekeeper’s table, pulls a chair away from timekeeper Rex Ruthor…and sits down in it. “TWO!” Clark is still dazed in the corner, and he does not even realize that the champion is on the outside of the ring, taking a free breather. “THREE!” Mask reaches over the table and steals a bottle of water away from the timekeeper’s table, chugging it down and not looking concerned at all with Soapdish’s count. “FOUR!” “This isn’t right!” Comet cries, “The Masked Man is just going to sit through this count out, and keep his title the cheap way! Citizen Clark isn’t even going to get a fair rematch after all!” “FIVE!” “Oh, it’s completely fair,” Riley replies, “and, in fact, Clark’s fault. If he hadn’t knotted up his opponent’s knee, Mask wouldn’t be *completely* incapacitated on the outside!” “SIX!” Clark stumbles out of the corner, and hearing Nick Soapdish’s count, he realizes what’s going on! “SEVEN!” Alan isn’t about to win on a technicality (and thus not win the title), so he hurries between the ropes, onto the apron. TMM sees this, and tells the wayward son to “bring it”. Clark leaps! Mask moves! “EIGHT!” …no, Clark faked the jump, and Mask moved, allowing Alan to precisely aim his leap as he drives his fists down, nearly THROUGH TMM’s head with a double axe handle smash! “NINE!” And, again noticing the count, Clark takes Mask by the head and slides him under the bottom rope, coming back in with him. “Now it appears as if Citizen Clark might be benefiting from this,” Comet announces, “he caught Mask off guard and took over with a low-risk maneuver!” Not waiting another second, the wayward son brings Mask up to a standing position and reaches down for the left leg, but TMM sees it coming and snaps backwards, out of reach, before slugging Alan’s face with a hard right hand! The blow shocks and dazes the challenger, allowing Masked Fury to take Clark’s own right arm and twist it around his neck, before TMM leaps down and pulls the wayward son HARD onto the mat with an arm-wrench neckbreaker! “Here’s some Lineage for ya, Comet,” Riley cheers, “that was the move that Masked Man’s great grandfather, Muztev Nyiregyháza, used to defeat Ho Min-Chou Ahn at the Battle in Manchuria during World War I! Now, Mask is going to use it to retain his title against Clark here on Storm! Glorious day!” Mask quickly covers Clark, hooking his leg as Nick Soapdish counts! “ONE!” “TWO!” “THREEEENOOOOOOOOOO!” Clark gets the shoulder up, and the fans explode! “LET’S – GO – CLARK!” “LET’S – GO – CLARK!” Mask is furious, but ready, and he brings Clark up to his feet forcefully, before applying a front facelock and grabbing Alan’s tights, lifting him upside down into the air, vertically, for the Cautionary Tale of Sexual Maskosaurus! …but now it’s Clark’s turn to shift HIS weight and drop down on his feet, behind Mask! Before he can do anything, however, TMM hones his senses and simply reaches back, surprising Alan with a ¾ facelock and leaping forward, nailing Judge Mental’s Surprise Witness, and his Masked Avenger neckbreaker! GODDAMN IT, NO! Alan Clark, using his ring position, reaches his right arm back and clutches onto the top rope as Mask leaps, and he brings nothing but air down with him in the move! “Citizen Clark has just foiled our Sexual Maskosaurus’ plans for both of his finishing moves! This is incredible!” “I can’t believe he can do anything after that neckbreaker,” Riley blinks in disbelief, “that would’ve taken a lesser man, let’s say Edward James, out of the picture completely!” Mask hits the mat, but he quickly gets to his feet to meet Clark again. The wayward son is waiting, however, and he quickly applies a facelock and gets TMM into a fisherman’s suplex position, before swiftly lifting up…and falling back down, driving Masked Fury’s left knee into the mat with the High Noon knee crusher! The Sexual Maskosaurus howls in pain, and Clark effortlessly pushes Mask onto his back, like a football jock taking advantage of a drunk virgin bitch! Instead of slipping it in, though, he twists it around (eww...), spinning around Mask’s leg and crooking it with the other leg, falling back and applying the WRATH OF CLARK! “THE WRATH OF CLARK!” Comet exclaims, “that’s Alan Clark’s deadly submission maneuver, and he’s ready to make our Sexual Maskosaurus tap out!” “Mask can hold out!” Riley cries, “his legs have the strength of ten bulls, man! Win one for the Gipper!” TMM squeals like a pig, but he looks back and notices that the ropes aren’t *that* far away! “YOU’VE – GOTTA – TAP!” “YOU’VE – GOTTA – TAP!” He extends his arms out every which way, but sadly, they come up just inches too short! He tries to scoot on his back, but Alan Clark sits fast, not allowing Mask to budge! TMM can’t take it anymore! He lifts his hand up off the mat! IT STARTS COMING DOWN! IT’S STILL GOING DOWN! JESUS CHRIST, IT LOOKS LIKE HE’S GOING TO TAP OUT! CALVIN MURPHY WAS INDICTED ON SIX COUNTS OF SEXUAL ABUSE! IT HITS THE MAT, but in the form of a fist! Mask POUNDS the canvas, and pulls himself just one inch, before reaching… AND GRABBING THE BOTTOM ROPE! “He did it!” Riley exclaims, “I knew he could! Bless ya, Mask, now just hold out and keep your title!” Mask holds onto the rope for dear life, as Soapdish forces Clark to relinquish the hold. TMM slides over to the corner and pulls himself up using the turnbuckle, until he’s resting against it. Clark happens to be in the opposite corner, and when he sees Masked Fury in this moment of weakness, he decides to charge forward! Mask puts his boot up, but it’s the left one, so Clark keeps charging! BUT THE ROMANIAN GREW A BRAIN! At the last possible moment, TMM puts his left leg down and lifts his right leg up, catching Clark square in the face with his boot! Alan staggers back, allowing the Masked Man to grab him by the back of the head, move towards the turnbuckle… *BAM!* …and ram his wounded head into it! *BAM!* Again! *BAM!* *BAM!* *BAM!* “This is getting out of hand!” Comet cries. *BAM!* *BAM!* “Lucky seven!” Riley exclaims, rubbing it in to Comet. Lucky seven indeed, as Clark looks nearly concussed, and Mask, not about to let this match go on any longer with the shape his leg is in, applies a front facelock, hoisting Clark into the air upside down and falling forward, SPIKING HIS HEAD ONTO THE MAT WITH THE CAUTIONARY TALE OF SEXUAL MASKOSAURUS! “LET’S – GO – CLARK!” “LET’S – GO – CLARK!” Mask collapses on top of his foe, and Nick Soapdish drops to count the pin! “ONE!!!!!!!” “TWOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” “THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” *DING DING DING* “Darn it!” Comet lets out, “Citizen Clark had the match won, and Masked Man had to resort to…well, brutality, to win the match!” “A win’s a win, Comet,” Riley replies, “it doesn’t matter how you do it! Mask outsmarted the wayward son…AGAIN!” “Ladies and gentlemen,” Funyon announces, as “Misirlou” begins again, “your winner of the match, and STILL S – W – F UNITED STATES CHAMPION, THE MAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSKED MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!!!” Soapdish takes the belt from Rex Ruthor and hands it to Mask, who still lies on the mat clutching his knee. With the help of Soapdish, he pulls himself up to a standing position, takes the belt, and THRUSTS it into the air! The Hartford crowd, of course, jeers, but Mask is not even bothered. He crawls under the ropes, grabs his briefcase, and limps up the ramp, to the backstage area! “Well, like it or not,” Comet adds, brokenhearted, “The Masked Man is still our United States Champion. Alan Clark put in a hell of an effort, and the Wayward Sons have NOTHING to be ashamed of.” “Sure they do! They suck! And coming up after the break, Hollywood Boulevard is going to collectively kick the other 2/3 of the Wayward Sons’ asses. Carry on indeed, suckers!” Comet sighs.

Somewhere in the back of a Hartford Civic Centre, a locker room door slowly swings open and Ben Hardy nervously steps through with Gus following in. Looking around, Hardy sees Dace Night sitting to one side of the roomer, watching TV. Hardy: Ermmm, Dace, we’ve got an interview scheduled with you for right now. Spinning his chair around, Dace flashes a devilish grin and waves Hardy in. watching Hardy slowly move across the room, Dace taps his foot and takes another swig of whatever he’s drinking. Somewhere, Pepsi Max marketers wonder why Extreme Goth’s don’t like their product. Dace: So Hardy what did you want to talk about? No need to look so worried either, Kayin’s busy with the ladies. Don’t even thinking Ben. Hardy: Yes, of course not, I wouldn’t. I wanted to ask you what you thought at Commissioner Zenon’s decision not to book you again and also to suspend Janus even though he’s the World Champion. Hardy tries to keep and straight face and not sweet in his usual fear as Dace leans forward, his face darkening and his grin fading away. Dace: Well, Zenon can do what the hell he wants to. I think he wants me to cool off after what’s happened with Janus recently. I think he’s doing the same to Janus, just with a bigger fridge. I don’t know if it’ll work. We’ll probably just come back with even worse ideas of how to hurt each other. Hardy: There are already has two contenders to his World Title. I’m not suggesting this is why, but are you going after him in hopes of gaining a title shot yourself? And I have to ask about the safety of other people and SWF staff. Dace: Well, I’ve cleared a lot of stuff off my mine recently. Yes, I do hope to try and get a title shot from this. But also, once again something has to be done about Janus. You have to think, Tom Flesher and Toxxic just want the World Title. But do they care about stopping the monster? As for people’s safety, security know they’re fair game to use, that’s why they have hazard pay. For other people, it won’t go that fair. Hardy: I see. I’m not sure how happy Zenon might be with that Dace. Is fighting an enraged monster the best way to deal with him? And what about Kayin in all of this? Dace: Hardy, if Janus comes within a hundred feet of her, she’ll gut him like a fish. Not to mention he’ll be in jail for a very, very long time. But if Janus needs treatment, only way he’ll take it is knocked out cold. But Hardy, I think that’s all I have to say about this. Now, I have a show to watch. Waving Hardy away, Dace turns back to the TV, his face still dark as Hardy backs away and bolts through the door. Leaning against the closed door, Hardy looks up the camera and smiles. Hardy: Well, I’m alive. But I think I’ll stay far away next time him and Janus are back on the card. Fade out.

"Oh man I feel like we are at a Pay Per View with this next type of match-up," begins Cyclone Comet, "we have a Survivor Series, Three-Man tag team matchup here with the winner being eligible for the upmost prestidge of fighting against your reigning Smarks Wrestling Federation Hardcore Champion, Ryan Dustin." "Ha, I just can't wait to see that stupid penguin get attacked!" starts up Riley already prepared to bash some face wrestlers as he sits awaiting this next event, "I just want to see someone like Martin "Big Country" Hunt or the "Icon" Max King walk away with this win.." Riley is cut short as suddenly, all the lights dim in the sold-out arena. The crowd pops open like a shook up can of soda as "BRR It's Getting Cold in Here!" is heard followed by blue lights that switch on "UNLEASH THE FURY!". "You would think this guy is in some sort of boy-band, it's just ridiculous the ovation he is receiving here! I mean Christ's Sakes he is in a penguin suit...::pauses and looks on in disgust at Petey's entrance as Comet applauds Petey:: "Barrom Hero" by Dropkick Murphys kicks up over the PA system and every member in the crowd is on their feet, tipping their glasses, taking pictures, and cheering for the Irish jigging Petey that walks down the run-way as confetti rains from the ceiling. Petey stops to slap hands with a little five year old who was lucky enough to obtain front row seats. Petey runs and slides on his belly under the bottom rope and slides all the way to the ring where he stands up and dances some more for the already roaring crowd. Funyon: "Ladies and Gentle, our next match-up is scheduled to be in a Survivor Series, three-man tag team fashion, entering first, for team number one, Petey the Irish Penguuuuuuuuuuuuiiiin" ::Funyon is hardly heard over the deafing crowd as suddenly Hank Williams Jr. "A Country Boy Can Survive" blares over the sound system..the crowd instantly converts from cheering to boos as Martin Hunt walks out wearing a black shirt exclaiming in big, bold white letters "Connecticut Sucks!" Martin struts a little on the ramp-way mocking the Penguin's Irish Jigging as he drinks from his Bud Light bottle that he has carried with him. Coming down the ramp way, a sign exclaiming "SLY IS THE ONE AND ONLY CRUISERWEIGHT" is advertised in Hunt's view as Martin grabs the sign, rips it in half, and spits in the teenage boy’s face before walking away and chugging the rest of his beer. Big Country laughs at the boy’s irate father who is trying to get over the guard rails and dish out equal payback for the quick spit in the face. Martin shrugs it off and follows his booing entrance into the ring as Funyon announces his arrival.. Funyon: “Teammate number two for team one, Martin “Big Country” Huuuuuuuuunnnttt” As Funyon finishes Martin’s entrance, more boos are heard as Martin throws his glass bottle at the feet of Petey signaling his bitter resentment of teaming with a mascot looking wrestler. To counter-act the on-going boos that flood the Hartford Civic Center, “Gimme Shelter” by Rolling Stones kicks up to silence the boos with a more approved entrance of Munich who saunters out from behind the black satin curtains. A good solid ovation is heard as Munich walks down the steel ramp way and heads towards the ring, where he looks cautiously over at Martin and slowly ascends the stairs, ducking between the ropes. “And the final member of team one, Muuuuuuuuuunich!” Funyon finishes the first teams entrance as Munich takes off his black shirt and stretches in the ring, Petey stretches beside him in a playful manner as Martin shakes his head at his partners, leaning on the ropes in an almost anti-team manner. “It’s appalling to be teamed with a wanna-be Artic mascot and a Texan Munich,” Riley claims after doing his best to be aware of his favorite heels. “Martin should be in a whole team by his self; these guys are just going to hold him down.” “Hold him down? If anything these guys will show him the right way to wrestle, they will teach him respect and dignity, two qualities that Hunt didn’t pay for with his fraternity dues!” states Comet as he begins with a speech on good versus evil. “That’s the problem with this federation, not enough people are man enough to step up and fight for what’s right in this world, thankfully we have Petey and Munich here to be of some service in ridding this place of villains..” Comet is cut off as Kelly walks out from behind the curtains; the fans begin chanting “SLUT SLUT SLUT” as Kelly begins down the run-way shaking her head at disbelief to the crowd and voices her opinion to a few lucky crowd members. Kelly ducks between the ropes and grabs the microphone from Funyon’s hands. Kelly: “Now we all know the great Icon Max King doesn’t need any form of team mate what-so-ever in this next so-called event.. :pauses to wait for the boos to die down some: Max will dominate and destroy anyone in his path, whether it be a stupid looking penguin, a fraternity brother, a Texan, a self-proclaimed “King of Old School”, or some kind of rejected band member. :pauses once more as the boos are even louder than Kelly talking herself: “This lady is great, everytime I see her I get excited” “I thought you didn’t like girls..:curious stated:” “Hey I just know I like her because that means one thing, THE ICON IS COMING!” Kelly: “Now letme introduce to everyone here, the man you pay money to see, The ICON MAAAAX KIIIINGG!!! “Superstar” by Salvia blasts out over the boos, as Max King walks from behind the curtain, with a smirk the length of Kelly’s legs. Max walks down the ramp and ignores the raving crowd which is almost sick with disgust at Max’s entrance. Max crawls through the ropes that Kelly holds open for him and leans in a corner as Kelly gets a quick kiss in before leaving the ring. Funyon grabs his microphone and begins with the next man for team number two. Funyon: “And the second man on Team Number Two,” The lights dim as multi-colored strobes begin to flash with “Snap Your Fingers, Snap Your Neck” by Prong begins in the background over the speakers. The crowd gives a mixed reaction as Manson emerges from beneath the curtains and heads straight down to the ring and rolls into the ring. Manson looks at Max King who is just laying in his corner staring Manson down as Funyon finishes.. “MAAANSSSSOOOON” “And the final man for Team Number Two, HEATH BLLLLACCCCKK!” “Out Ta Get Me” by Guns and Roses plays as fans give another mixed reaction. A few people even looked a bit confused over exactly who Heath is as out walks Heath Black with his wife Kelsey by his side. Heath enters the ring as Kelsey stands by the ring next to Kelly—Kelly moves immediately away from Kelsey and cheers her man the Icon on as the bell signals the start of the match as Petey and Max King begin the match. ::DING DING:: “Man THE ICON will demolish that stupid penguin” states an already excited Riley over the sight of Max. “He may be able to eliminate Petey but he still has two other guys to eliminate before he can even begin to think about winning this. The righteous path of heroes shall prevail over the corrupt ways of Max.” exclaims Comet as Petey and Max lock-up. Max and Petey instantly lock-up as Max throws Petey in a quick head-lock. The head-lock is then followed by a quick solid punch to the top of the frosty head of Petey, as the penguin tumbles backwards. The Icon laughs and flexes his biceps before tagging in Manson and immediately heading behind the ropes. Manson looks unaware of the tag as Petey runs and knocks Manson down with a big stomach bump. Manson falls as the crowd cheers Petey on. Petey jumps up and drops a penguin-flap of an elbow drop down to the sternum of Manson. “I am not sure why Max King got out of the ring that quick, I mean you would think all the talking Kelly did for him that he would have no problem facing Petey” starts a puzzled Comet as Riley quickly puts the match into perspective “This match is all about endurance and stamina, sure Max could easily defeat Petey, but instead he would rather save his strength and power until he is ready to pounce on the already tired combatants, that way he will have the upper hand.” Manson gets off the mat as Petey is running towards him, well hobbling towards him from the bulkly penguin suit. Manson seizes the moment and grabs Petey in mid-flight to deliver an almost expert-like scoop slam. Manson grabs Petey by the head off the mat to shuffle him towards his corner where he tags in Heath Black. Both Black and Manson pummel Petey with forearms to the back to have the penguin slump down on the mat just before Manson climbs back out of the ring. Black side kicks Petey in the head and goes for a quick rookie cover.. ONE! TWO! TH.. Petey is saved by Munich who has run into the match and knocked Black off of the oversized penguin. Munich picks up Black by his grungy hair to deliver a huge chop that is heard around the arena. Soapdish throws Munich back outside the ropes as Petey continues the slapping on Black’s chest with a right flipper and fin of his own.. SLAP! Petey grabs the dazed Heath, and throws him into a turnbuckle as Heath grabs the ropes and leans on the pad for a breather to regroup from the attacks. Petey in the other turnbuckle dances and prepares for a Artic Splash in the corner as he runs full speed towards Black before jumping in the air and connecting with a big full penguin splash in the corner. Black falls to the mat as Petey goes for a quick cover.. ONE! TWO! Manson attempts to run-in before Max King pulls the legs out from under his own team mate. Manson hits the mat face first and looks in horror as Black becomes eliminated by Petey’s pin. THREE! “One chump down, now if we can get that damn penguin out of here..” starts Riley “I feel like I’m stuck in Billy Madison where Adam Sandler is chasing after that hallucinated penguin.” “Petey may be one of the only few heroes left to defend the Smarks Wrestling Federation, how dare you bad-mouth him” defends Comet of a fellow super hero. I just can’t believe the audacity behind Max King’s tripping of Manson, his own team mate.” “Kelly warned that he didn’t need anyone, and I think it was an accident, Max wouldn’t do anything like that” The referee is helping Heath out of the ring as Petey goes to tag in Martin Hunt. Martin looks at the outstretched flipper, and reaches down towards his boot as Petey looks own awaiting a tag. Martin pulls out a shiny object and decks Petey in the face, then quickly throws the object to the mat outside just as the referee turns around. Manson gets up from the mat and pushes Max King down from the apron to the outside, turning to see the knocked out penguin laying on his back, beak up at the sky. Manson drags the man by the right leg over to the center of the ring where he quickly goes for a cover. Munich and Hunt are arguing in their corner as Munich jumps over the rope to save Petey.. ONE! TWO! THREE! Munich is too late as Petey becomes eliminated by Manson. “Brillant!! Just Brillant! I knew without a doubt that I wasn’t the only one tired of that man’s antics. They were better off firing Dill.. err that Penguin than giving him a contract here,” states Riley as he covers up for his almost blundering mistake of giving away Petey’s identity. “I can’t believe Martin just did that, he is no better than Max King. Just when you think someone is starting to switch boats and fight against evil, BANG! Martin surprises everyone and lays out Petey.” “What a blatant sign of a ruthless nature, someone should educated Hunt on the proper rules and conduct of this federation.” Munich and Manson lock up as the crowd begins chanting “BULL-SHIT BULL-SHIT BULL-SHIT” to Petey’s departure from the ring. Manson throws Munich to the ropes and nails him with a spear that takes both men to the ground. Manson climbs on top of Munich to place him in a tendon-pulling arm bar. Munich pounds the ground for support as he tries to fight the vicious hold. Munich obtains a few cheers as he fights Manson’s hold back and brings both men to their feet. Munich throws a quick elbow to Manson’s exposed ribs that brings the hold to an end. Munich grabs Manson by the neck and gets a running start to deliver a swinging neck breaker. Max King is on the apron turned around talking to Kelly as Manson’s arm extends and slaps Max across the chest. The referee signals that Max is the legal man as he turns around and is surprised by an oncoming clothesline that knocks him to the outside of the ring, banging his lower back on the guard rail. Munich follows the sailing Icon’s body to the outside as Manson regroups in the corner holding his neck from the recent move. Kelly becomes aware that her man is down from the surprise attack, quickly takes off her heel pointed shoe and sneaks behind the approaching Munich. Munich picks up the slouched over King and begins placing him on his shoulders in preparation of a fireman’s carry. The referee begins the count, ONE! TWO! Kelly, now completely behind Munich, raises back and bashes her heel into the skull of Munich, causing Munich to fall forward releasing King out of the fireman carry-like hold. King smiles at Kelly as he picks up Munich by the hair, making sure to pull for extra enforcement. Max finally gets Munich up only to knock him back down with a leaping round house kick to the jaw. Munich sails to the floor seemingly to be unaware of any of his surroundings. THREE! FOUR! FIVE! “Get him Max! Get him!” chants Riley already fired up about a heel dominating the match, “I knew women were good for something.” “Women are a fair beautiful species; they should be loved and cared for, not used as help to cheat your way through a match,” claims Comet as he stands by his pillars of good. “This match would be a totally different story if Kelly hadn’t intervened with her heel!” “She is just preparing the Icon for his Hardcore Championship match that is coming up.” While the acting proceeds outside the ring, Manson begins climbing the top of the ropes. He faces the attacking King as Munich lays motionless on the ground getting planted by multiple knee drops. Manson waits for just the right moment as he crouches in preparation of a surprise drop kick that awaits King, in retribution for the earlier leg trip “accident”. King gets up and turns towards the ring to prevent a count out as Manson jumps off the top rope and sails in the air towards King. Manson’s legs and arms are flaring through the air like a misguided missile, completely missing King and landing on his right knee outside the ring. Hunt is in the ring smirking at the grimacing Manson, who holds his right knee in agony over the sudden push from behind by Martin. Martin lets a laugh escape his smirk as he pats himself on the shoulder for pushing Manson off the top ropes causing him to hurt his knee to the outside. SIX! King climbs into the ring as Martin slowly retreats towards his corner before climbing back over the top ropes. Munich raises with his hands and arms in a push up like maneuver attempting to regain his feet after a nasty heel shot. SEVEN! EIGHT! Manson, disorientated, grabs Munich’s leg and drags him towards the guardrail using him as a crutch to stand back up on. NINE! Munich stands back to his feet with a hurt Manson who continues to hold his right knee. Munich runs and slides into the ring barely escaping the count out. Manson hobbles to his corner, struggling to make it up to the apron. In disbelief, Max seems shocked of Munich’s arrival as Munich approaches placing the two in a lock-up. King wins the lock up and grabs Munich into a headlock that seems to be held too high and tight, but is quickly followed by multiple fists to the top of the injured head. The referee sees the unsanctioned move and breaks it up as Max springs off the ropes and nails a dazed Munich with a running bulldog. Munich’s head bounces off the mat causing him to hold the top of his head that is ringing like a Japanese gong. Max goes for the cover.. ONE! TWO! THREE! NO! A last second KICK OUT! Munich barely gets his shoulders up as Max angrily stomps away at Munich’s ribs and eventually leads to the head. The referee once again breaks up the ferocious kicks as Munich sits up on the mat, only to be knocked down by a running and flipping neck roll executed almost with perfection by Max. “That is got to be all for Munich, the ref needs to call this match for bleeding and disqualify him before he infects The Icon!” “He is only bleeding from that illegal use of women’s shoes and then multiple dirty holds that are against policies. If anything, Max should be disqualified from this match up!” The two announcers battle out their perspectives of the match as Max King cockily walks to his injured team mate Manson and slaps him across the chest, constituting a tag. Manson grimaces in pain as he tries to get into the ring with his injured knee that slapped heavily against the pavement. Munich remains on the mat, dazed and confused as Manson slowly hobbles his way. Munich, suddenly aware of another attack, begins crawling inch by inch towards his corner as drops of blood trail from his head. Hunt sees the oncoming tag and backs away from the apron as Munich is left abandoned by his team. “These guys are just disrespecting their team mates; they are kicking their own man while he is down. It just isn’t right!” angrily states Comet as he becomes disgusted with Hunt and King’s avoidance of helping out their partners. “Hey they are just watching out for what matters the most, ha themselves! These guys are great, what a well-planned strategy let the others wear each other out as you sit back and await the final man.” Munich turns around and is met with a veteran-like eye gauge that is quickly followed by a drop kick. The drop kick is everything left in Manson’s legs, as they give way and slap Munich right in the head atop the spot where the heel so rightfully decided to “bite” him. Munich stumbles over the outside of the ropes, saving himself from falling to the outside. Wait! Hunt is on the outside and pulls Munich down by the tights to the outside of the ring and DDTs him to the floor. Munich’s body lays motionless except a twitching leg that moves from the sudden attack and constant head poundings. Small drops of blood have collected around the impact point on the floor where Munich’s head connected as the referee begins the ten count.. ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! Hunt climbs to the ring and knows it is his time to fight, no more hiding as he immediately begins kicking the downed Manson who can no longer stand the pain of his right knee. FIVE! SIX! SEVEN! Munich, still lays on his back, is seen slowly crawling on the mat towards the ring as Martin begins stomping away at Manson’s right knee. Munich has his hands on the apron now and pulls himself up to his feet where he takes a breather after all the crawling. The crowd gets behind him… ”MU-NICH” “MU-NICH” “MU-NICH” EIGHT! NINE! The crowd support isn’t enough as Munich falls back to his knees holding the back of his head. TEN! Munich is eliminated from a count-out as Martin drags Manson to the center of the ring and runs off the ropes and jumps in the air to drop a huge “Country Style” knee to the wounded right knee of Manson. Manson screams in pain as the referee checks the injury only to get brushed off by Manson. “We are down to only three competitors, well only one true competitor as Martin and King seem to be turning on their own team, pulling out every card necessary in order to win this match,” exclaims Comet as he seems to still be cheering for the veteran of Manson. “Give it up will ya, Cyclone. Martin is clearly pinpointing that right knee and will have Manson eliminated in merely a matter of minutes. No man can withstand that much pain, not even your precious Manson.” Almost reading Bobby’s mind, Martin continues to attack the right knee and places Manson in an all-out stretching figure four that sends Manson wailing in pain. As the referee checks in on Manson, Hunt sits up from the hold and begins punching the knee close-fisted to ensure special emphasis. The blistering punches and screams of pain cause the referee to break the hold and warn Martin about the sadistic nature of violence he is displaying. King looks on from the side as he watches Martin flip Manson’s body over making him face down. Hunt stares down King as he grabs Manson’s legs and curls them up, lacing them between his own legs before placing Manson in a Boston Crab. Manson’s face is now beat red as he yells in horror at the terrible move Martin has placed him in. Almost instantly Manson taps out becoming eliminated by Martin’s long legged Boston Crab death lock. The referee motions for Max to enter the ring while paramedics place Manson in a wheel chair and wheel him out of the arena. “And then there were two,” starts Riley “two of the greatest up and coming wrestlers that this federation has to offer.” “I don’t know who is the lesser of two evils between these two, but from what I have witnessed tonight it seems that there may not be any hope left in this match,” as Riley states confused over the recent passing of events. He realizes their may be no good left in the ring and takes off his headset in disgust. King climbs into the ring and begins a stare down with Martin as the two encircle one another, plotting on who will have the first move. Martin goes in for a leg tackle but gets blocked by a ready King. Max kicks Martin down to the mat only to be surprised as Martin easily comes back to his feet and right back in Max’s face. Max meets him with several cocky slaps and chops to Martin’s chest, but the favor is returned with some fellow slaps from Martin as the two exchange slaps, the crowd gets into the action with “WOOO” chants behind every slap. Slap. “WOOO”. Slap. “WOOO”. The slaps eventually lead to Max backing Martin into a corner, as King bashes his elbow to the temple of Hunt who is maintained in the corner. King spins and sidekicks the ribs of Hunt causing him to bend over and rub his side as King cockily backs away and flexes his arms towards the crowd. Martin sees an opportunity and shoulder blocks King in the back to take him down off his feet as Hunt immediately follows up with an aggressive rear chin lock. Max struggles to escape the hold but immediately pokes Martin in the eyes to release the hold, as both men rise to their feet and lock up in a grapple. Martin wins the grapple and slings Max into the ropes as Max spring boards back at flying speeds only to be carried up in the air and dropped back down onto Martin’s knee as Hunt performs the “100 Proof” knee drop that sends Max flying back to the mat on his back. Hunt goes for a quick cover.. ONE! TWO! THR No, Max kicks out in the nick of time as Martin begins choking him on the mat. The referee counts out a five count as Martin holds a vicious grip around the bulging neck of King before releasing it and then grabbing Max by the hair to pull him up. Hunt immediately sends the confident Icon sailing back down to the mat with a strong upper cut, as Hunt begins flexing and taunting Max King, the self-proclaimed Icon. “Man these guys are great, Cyclone you are witnessing history in the making, the rebirth of REAL athletes, the beginning of a new era in SWF!” exclaims an over excited Riley as his two favorite stars duke it out. “More like the beginning of an end..” starts Comet as he is quickly cut off by Riley’s heel-like bragging. “You need to realize, Comet that the main reason your guys and precious penguin are out of this match is due to the fact that they have no character, no real skill, and have no real ability. Just look at these two! They are the best!” Max King leg sweeps Martin down to the mat ending his parade of taunts as Max follows up by several sternum busting knee drops that seem to literally knock all the wind out of Martin Hunt. Max pulls Martin up by his curly hair and drops him back down to his knees with a swift forearm to the back of the head. Max grabs at the color of Martin’s shirt and pulls him up to a standing position before locking him up and lifting him into a superplex like maneuver. As Max goes to land the superplex he suddenly shifts his weight in mid-air and lands on top of Martin and stays on for a pin, landing a perfect Superb Plex. ONE! TWO! THRE! No, a last second kick out as Martin struggles for survival. Max King is easily frustrated and pounds on the mat a quick hard three counts signaling to the ref to step his count up a little bit. Max grabs Martin by the shirt again and lifts him up as he prepares to finish Martin off with a King Buster. Max grabs Martin from behind and reaches his arm around Martin’s head and goes to hook a leg as he lifts Martin vertically above him. Martin suddenly slips out and flips behind Max to escape the near finisher. Martin in turn surprises Max with a strong sleeper hold that could spell the end for Max King. Martin has the hold locked tight as sweat beads around Max’s forehead and his eyes become dilated from the pressure around his head. Martin grunts and keeps the move in tact as he awaits Max’s tap from the “Black Out” submission move. The ref checks on Max and holds his arm up to see if he is still awake.. ONE! The arm drops down with no movement of force behind it.. TWO! The arm drops again as if it has no life at all.. THRE- NO! The arm shoots back in the air as Max struggles to escape the violent sleeper hold.. Martin feels Max’s weight shifting and decides to quickly drop Max with a Sleeper-Drop and just drops Max down to the mat. Martin goes for the cover.. ONE! TWO! THREE! NO! Kelly has come to the rescue and placed Max’s right boot on the bottom rope making the pin broken up. Martin stands up argues with Kelly on the top of the apron as Max King slowly rises to his feet preparing to attack a distracted Martin. The Icon runs off the ropes and sets up for a clothesline to send Martin out of the ring, but suddenly Martin ducks at the last second, as Max clotheslines Kelly to the outside. Max is shocked as he leans over the ropes and tries to help Kelly out and comfort her from the accident he has made. Martin in turn, crouches behind Max and low blows him with a hard upper cut that causes Max to stumble backwards holding his crotch. Max stumbles right into Martin, as Martin grabs his head from behind and sets him up for the “Sweet Southern Comfort”. Martin lifts the Icon off the ground and slams him down hard in a reverse DDT that seems to land awkwardly on Max King’s neck. Seeing his successful finisher, Martin rolls King into a pin, grabbing a handful of tights for extra reassurance as the referee starts the pin.. ONE! TWO! Kelly is making her way into the ring to break up the pin but it is too late. THREE! Martin moves and Kelly ends up hitting the laid out Max King with her tiny elbow, as Martin rolls out of the ring and throws his hands up with both middle fingers in the air. “Oh no, is Kelly and Max alright?” wonders Riley as Comet quickly starts “What about your beloved Martin? I think he surprised everyone by escaping Max King two times in those last final minutes of the match.” “Surprise!? He knew what Max was doing all along; he out-smarted the Icon and came away with a win that will lead him into his rightfully earned contendership. I just hope Max and Kelly are able to recover.” The match ends with Martin strutting out of the arena, up the steel ramp way with “A Country Boy Can Survive” blaring over the PA System as numerous boos are heard. Max King and Kelly both exit the ring with their arms around each other consoling one another of the costly mistakes they made towards the end of this match as the screen fades out and the show cuts to commercials.

"Welcome back citizens to the Smarks Wrestling Federation premiere primetime show, SWF Storm! Here as always to call the action with me from ringside is the Robin to my Batman, Bobby Riley!" "Hey! What's that supposed to mean?" "And I am, of course, Cyclooooooooone Comet!" The masked announcers pushes on with introductions despite his partner's objection, "the fans here in the Hartford Civic Center in Hartford, Connecticutt are electrified and we hope everyone watching from the confort of their home is equally ecstatic! We're one match into the evening and getting prepared for what should be and interesting bout." "Woah... Robin to your Batman? What do you mean by that?" Riley becomes rather defensive. "Are you trying to say that I'm less important than you? That I'm just some pleasant little side attraction that people get when they come to see you? Listen you little masked freak, I'm nobodies side-show! I'm Robert Riley, damnit!" "Woah there Bobbo! Don't get so uptight, it's just a joke! Besides, I thought you'd be happy with Citizen Sly's match coming up next." Comet keeps trucking along with his commentary, "speaking of our next match, it's sure to be of much interest to both the SWF patrons watching and for the stars in the back lockerroom here tonight! In this very ring before our eyes two newly crowned champions will square off representing their respective divisions. And while there will be no actual titles on the line, some people may argue that this will decide the pecking order for their divisions." "Indeed, Comet. Tonight we see the learders of two very different divisions with two distinct sets of rules collide when Ryan Dustin, representing the Hardcore Gamers division, takes on Austin Sly, who will be representing the Cruiserweight division. This is sure to be an interesting match and I'm sure it will have an interesting outcome to match!" Riley turns to face Comet before he continues on, "now I'm going to go ahead and step out on a limb before this match even starts and pick Austin Sly to win this tonight. Even though I like the guy and think he's a great champion, I'm just picking him because this is a straight singles match and not a hardcore match. This is closer to the enviroment that he's used to being in than making the transition from hardcore to singles." "You seem to be under the impression that Citizen Dustin can just wrestle hardcore matches when he is, in fact, quite good in all kinds of matches. I've been dually impressed with this man since he joined the roster just about two months ago. I think he has a bright future here in the SWF!" "Obviously you haven't been watching the bumbling fool that I've seen. Lets be honest with each other here Comet, we both know that Ryan was lucky to have walked out of Smarkdown with the Hardcore Gamers title. Now he comes into Storm to face a man who is perhaps one of the hottest in the federation! I think tonight we see what this man is really made of." "I'll agree with you there Riley," a reasurred Comet states, "but I think we see what everybody is made of every single night! Funyon is in the ring so it looks like it's about time to get this match underway!" The arena lights turn a dark cooling shade of blue to signal the imminant arrival of the Austin Sly. The sound of an accoustic guitar playing a hard, driving riff floats out over the arena but it is almost drowned out by the fans showing their loathe for the Cruiserweight Champion. Austin emerges from behind the curtains with his title belt strapped around his waste. He makes his way to the edge of the stage to do his prematch stretches before NTD ever appears from the curtains behind him. They both begin to make their way towards the ring as Funyon makes his first announcement. "Ladies and gentlemen, the following match is a singles match and is scheduled for one fall! Making his way to the ring first from St. Louis, Missouri, weighing in at two hundred and thirty pounds and accompanied to the ring by Smarks Wrestling Federation legend NTD, he is YOUR REIGNING Smarks Wrestling Federation Cruiserweight Champion... AUSSSST--IN SLYYYYYY!" The house lights drop, causing a small mummer to escape from the crowd. The low key, but upbeat beginning of "Lapdance" by N.E.R.D. starts to fill the arena. Brillant strobes of white, yellow, blue and red, flash about the arena, bathing the crowd in a mutli-colored hue in time with the beat, whose moderate base line begins to kick up, until, the vocals drop... I'm an Ouuuuut-law! Suddenly, a bullet flies through the picture, causing the image to shatter like glass. A single spotlight flashes across the stage, waving back and forth in time with the hip-hop beat... Quick on the draw -- Quick on the draw... Something you never seen before -- never seen... Centering on a lone spot... And I dare a muthafucker to come in my face! And as N.E.R.D’S ‘Lap-dance’ continues, it draws Ryan Dustin to the stage, through the curtain, facing the crowd – arms folded across his chest – while in a casual lean; his red cameo jacket fluttering from an unknown undercurrent. After a pause, Dustin makes his way to the ring, interacting with various fans by placing them in his 'picture frame'... "And his opponent," adds Funyon, after a short pause. After a pause, Dustin makes his way to the ring, interacting with various fans by placing them in his 'picture frame'. "Making his way to ringside—from Carson City, Nevada, weighing in at two hundred and twenty-eight pounds, he is YOUR REIGNING Smarks Wrestling Federation HARDCORE champion, he is the Real Deal... RYAN DUSSSSS--TIN!" announces Funyon, while Dustin slaps hands with a few fans. Ryan reaches the ring, climbing up the outside of the turnbuckle, he poses once again, sizing up the Cruiserweight champ, by placing his hands in the form of a 'picture frame' again. Then Ryan, as if waiting for a cue, turns to the near side crowd, nodding his head to the beat... "It's so real! How I feel!" ...before backflipping into the ring, giving the fans a little flourish for their buck. The crowd responds to that with a sizable pop, as Ryan disgardes his jacket and glasses, then stands at the ready in his corner, as his music fades into the background. "Citizen Dustin, definitely one for a little flash and panache, but coming up against as you called him eariler, 'a man who is perhaps one of the hottest in the federation!'," Cyclone pauses, letting the innuendo speak for itself, "you have to wonder if he's serious enough for a match of this caliber." Comet says the words, but his mouth doesn't quiet agree with them, causing him to frown. After all, he did witness that Hardcore title match last week. "Yeah... not serious enough." Comet's words take the bite right out off Riley's next taunt about Dustin. His reaction to the ending of the Hardcore match playing in his head. "Whatever, Comet. Referee Eddy Long is asking for the bell and this match is underway!" Long turns to the time-keepers table and waves his hand three times, signalling for the bell. DING-DING-DING!!! Both men turn the proverbial circle, finally crashing together and grappling for position -- or they would have, because while Dustin moved forward for a tie-up, Austin, ever the sly opponent, lowers his shoulder and wraps his arms around the Real Deal's midsection, barreling forwards. As he lifts Dustin off his feet, Austin powers forward, showing rare power for a Cruiserweight. Ryan looks shocked as he is banged unceremoniously, back first, into a neutral corner. Dustin attempts to get some seperation, letting loose a forearm blow to the back of his would be agressor, but Sly is in complete control of the situation and as Ryan looks to hit a second blow, the Cruiserweight champ rears back and buries his shoulder deep into the Real Deal's exposed rib cage! "Austin Sly taking the fight to the Hardcore champion, Comet! He don't back down from nobody!" says Riley, his moment of weakness, just moments ago, all but forgotten. Sly pulls back again, pausing for only the briefest of seconds -- and hearing a sharpe gasp from Dustin -- before exploding forward with another tackle to the Real Deal's stomach. Austin doesn't waiver in the least, rearing back again and again, as he continues his, so far, single minded assault on his opponents' ribs and back. "Indeed, the Cruiserweight champ, continues to bury shoulder after shoulder into the mid-section of citizen Dustin, who is at his mercy, for the moment." Ryan wheezes out, as Sly last shoulder actually lifted him up into the air and off his feet! "Merciful Magnolia, Ryan Dustin is--counter!" shouts Comet as takes an actual step back and charges forward for the hardest tackle of them all, but he lets up on the Real Deal for a moment to do so and that's all the time Dustin needs. Ryan Dustin springboards himself over the hunched from of Austin Sly, using the bottom cable as a trampline, and the top ropes for support. Ryan springs overhead, as Sly hits the nothing but air and Dustin rolls down his back, yanking at his opponents thighs and pulling him down in a... "Cover! Sunset Flip!" shouts Comet, as Ryan struggles to hold down Dustin, while Eddy Long dives into position. ONE! TW--No! After a slight pause, Sly rolls through the pin fall attempt and ends up in a kneeling crouch directly in front of a defenseless Real Deal. Austin flashes a solid gold grin and lunges forward, crushing Dustin's face with his foot. Dustin head snaps back from the stiff shin kick that blasts him directly in the face and blinks in pain, as Sly stands tall, taunting Ryan and the SWF crowd. "He just knocked Dustin loopy, Comet! The HARDCORE champion looks like a prize fighter that just got his bell rung!" "We knew this would be a tough match for Dustin, but who would have believed it'd start off like this..." says Comet, while Riley raises his hand, as if to say 'knew it all along'. "But citizen Dustin has proven he can comeback at anytime, and hopefully, he'll receive another oppurtunity to do just that." Sly grabs Ryan by the hair and yanks him up to his feet, pulling him to the center of the ring. Austin takes his time, hefting Dustin up and dropping him down in a pendulum backbreaker – but he doesn’t just drop him, instead, placing his elbow across Ryan’s throat and pushing down in a modified Bow and Arrow backbreaker! Eddy Long counts for a break, reaching four before the Slyest wrestler around, shoves Ryan off in a heap. Austin stands and executes the deadly one foot cocky pin – a mask of indifference, showing how much he believes he is above his 'hardcore' opponent, evident across his features. BOOOOO! “The SWF citizens don’t like that one bit, Robert!” "They don't need to like it, Comet." quips Riley, in response, as Eddy Long heads over to count the cover. "And if they did, Sly still wouldn't care." on the outside NTD cheers on his charge. ONE! TWO--No! The Real Deal won't go down to the cocky pin, shrugging the foot off of his chest. Sly, not one to let up on his advantage, grabs Dustin by the hair again, and brings him up to his feet. Austin, after hitting two knee strikes to the rib cage, grabs his arm, sending him away in an Irish whip, but the Real Deal is thrown so quickly that he can't even take the fall into the corner with his back, crashing sternum first into the top most turnbuckle! He holds on though, slumping slightly from the attack, but Austin charges forward, using his opponents back as a crash pad. "Citizen Sly has been very focused here tonight, but if the Real Deal could just string some offence together..." states Comet, trailiing off as Ryan yelps in pain, as Austin explodes forward with another tackle to the Real Deal's back. The number of attacks keep mounting up, as Sly attempts to take out Ryan Dustin. "Austin Sly is making a point here tonight, Comet. And that point is that no old joke, who pulled a one hell of a rabbit out of his hat last show, in a hardcore match..." says Riley, mumbling the last part, "can beat the fastest rising wrestler in the SWF today." Sly turns Dustin around and slaps him across the face! The Real Deal responds with a forearm to the face, taht stuns Sly for a second, but he whips around and halls off on Dustin with a slap so hard it forces spit to fly from the Real Deal's mouth into the crowd. "And that point is of total and complete, disrespect." notes a giddy Riley, as Austin grabs Ryan's arm, sending him away in an Irish whip, but once again, the Real Deal is thrown so quickly that he can't even take the fall into the corner with his back, crashing sternum first into the top most turnbuckle! This time though, Dustin cannot hang on and stumbles out of the corner backwards. Sly loops in behind him and lifts him up for a Belly to back suplex--no, Ryan flips out over the top and out of the Cruiserweight champion's grasp! The crowd rises to it's feet, as Sly attempts to react, turning around as quickly as he can, swinging wildly with a back elbow, but Dustin ducks and laces his arm about the waste of Sly, lifting him up and bringing him back down to earth, faster than Landon Maddix finishes... or so I've heard. Austin's eyes scrunch up in pain, as he bounces atop the knee of his opponent, who barely pauses before sending Sly flying back first to the canvas, with a quick, yet not so dirty, spinebuster! Sly twitches on th emat in pain, clearky stunned by the quickness of the attack, and Dustin takes advantage, going for the win by continuing to hold onto Sly's legs and flipping over top in a jack-knife pin) "Dustin proving once again that he's Bonafide thrilla--into a cover!" ONE! TWO! THRE--No! On the outside NTD looks on in horror. His student has lost control of the match and even the crowd can feel it, those people who didn't stand for the Bonafide Thrilla, move out of their seats as Austin pops up to one knee, still feeling the ill affects of the pin combonation. NTD grabs the Hardcore title and makes his way back towards the ring. But Dustin has a second wind, and has already leapt into the air, swinging his leg out and across the head of his opponent!! Crack! The crowd comes alive at the first real offensive stand by the Hardcore champ, while Austin's eyes glaze over and he falls to the mat in a heap once again, this time face first! NTD jumps onto the apron trying to distract the ref, while Dustin lands on one knee and scrambles into a textbook cover, shooting a half nelson and hooking the far leg for leverage! Ryan looks to Eddy Long, who ignore NTD as he starts the count... "Leaping Enzuigiri!" shouts Comet. "Maybe this'll do it!" ONE! "Austin'll kick-out." TWO! "Kick-out, Austin!" THREE--NO! The crowd groans as Austin Sly's shoulder pushes it's way out of Dustin's grasp. Sly rolls over onto his belly and pushes himself up to his knees and Ryan, going on instinct now, hops over top and snitches him into an Oklaholma roll stacking the Cruiserweight champs shoulders to the mat, one last time!! NTD hops down off the apron and yells out in shock trying to get the refs attention, but he fails. ONE! "Does he have him this time?!" TWO! "He's got him!" THREE! ... NOOOO! Austin breaks the pin once again, causing the crowd to let out a heart-felt moan. "Citizen Dustin, was this close to ending the match, Robert." Ryan looks to Long, as Austin signals NTD over trying to get the belt. Ryan asks to check if its three, while Austin grabs the title belt from his mentor. "Look at this, Robert. After a wave of near pins, it's clear that citizen Sly is going to take the low road out of this match. Citizen Dustin brought the fight right back to him, so he's going to steal this match with a cheap belt attack." NTD runs around to the other side and jumps up onto the ring apron to distracts the ref, but Eddy Long kicks him out to a loud cheer from the crowd. As they begin to sing him away from ringside, the crowd lets loose a loud boo at Austin Sly stalking Ryan Dustin, title belt in hand! Ryan turns... CRACK! ...And gets plastered with the Hardcore title!! Just as Eddy Long turns around from kicking NTD out of the arena... DING! DING! DING! Ryan hits the mat like a ton of bricks, while Sly just grins, not caring in the least that he was caught in the act by referee Eddy Long. He yells at his mentor to bring him the Cruiserweight title, as he stands talk over the Real deal. "The winner of this match by disqualification... RYAN DUSSSSST--IN!" NTD makes his way back to the ring, as Sly stands over his fallen opponent, holding the Hardcore title and giving Eddy Long the brush off, as he beckons for his title. Dustin stirs on the mat slightly, as NTD brings the Cruiserweight belt into the ring. "What's Sly going to do?" ask Comet. "He's already lost the match. What does he have to gain from staying in the ring." "Respect, Comet. He's going to show Dustin that he should respect, a true wrestler. And a true division. The Cruiserweight Divison!" Ryan pushes himself up to his hands and knees, while Eddy Long signals for the bell again. Sly doesn't care and neither does NTD as he takes the Hardcore title from his student and gives him the Cruiserweight belt. The Real Deal, never one to lie down, struggles to his feet... CRACK! And promptly gets put back down!! In ring, the battle is over, but a war may have possibly begun. The crowd rains down boos, iriate at NTD and Sly, who now holds both belts and smiles at the camera, his mentor at his side, over a fallen Ryan Dustin. And the last image we see before fading to black is that of Austin Sly, grinning like the evil bastard he is, holding two belts, like both belong in his hands.

Fade in from black. The arena lights are already lowered. The first five rows of fans closest to the stage almost jump back from the wave of heat that follows the streak of pyrotechnics that shoots from the ceiling and explodes at the stage. An ominous clap of thunder follows. A line of flames alights along the edge of the stage, as if the blaze was set by the bolts of lightning. The buzz from the crowd intensifies minimally as "Headstrong" by Trapt kicks up over the loudspeakers. Circlin', you're circlin', you're circlin' your head, Contemplating everything you ever said, Now I see the truth, I got a doubt, A different motive in your eyes and now I'm out, See you later. I see your fantasy, You wanna make it a reality paved in gold. See inside, inside of our heads, yeah, well now that's over, I see your motives inside, Decisions to hide. Back off, I'll take you on! Headstrong to take on anyone! Sean Davis steps onto the stage. The large lineman stands almost six and a half feet tall and is broad in the shoulders. His muscular upper body glistens, even in the dimmed lighting. The line of flames bordering the stage also plays visual games on his biceps. Davis wears dark blue tights, a bolt of lightning down the left side. The Perfect Storm stands on top of the stage, giving the crowd a cursory glance. He looks behind him as Marcus Washington, P.A. joins him. The attorney sports a crisp, dark gray suit and tie. He stands about six inches shorter than his client. Marc adjusts his glasses and motions Sean forward. The two walk down the ramp, a blue spotlight illuminating the way. In the ring, Funyon raises a microphone to his face, pausing for effect. "Our first contest tonight is scheduled for one fall!" he booms to the crowd. "Entering first, from Jacksonville, Flooorida, weighing in at two hundred and seventy pounds, accompanied by Marcus Washington, he is the Tropic Terror, the Temptest, the Perfect Storm, SEEAAAN DAAAVISS!!" The fans give a small ovation as Sean climbs the steps and enters the ring. Marcus maneuvers around the ring, standing caddy corner to the announce table. He claps for Sean and yells in encouragement, "Let's go, Sean!" In the squared circle, Davis nods acknowledgement as he pulls his arm across his chest, stretching his shoulder out. He paces a slow circle around Funyon and the referee as he switches arms. "Sean Davis, all-star defensive lineman for Florida State, honors student with a major in Science of all things, then his life spirals down hill with the accusation and arrest for beating a man into a coma," relates Bobby. The camera focuses on the commentators, Bobby with a smile on his face and Comet with a look of concern. Riley continues, "With the hiring of Marcus Washington to defend him, Davis is released on a technicality, but I bet he learned a lot from his two and a half years in prison." "The gleam in your eye is so very unsettling, Robert," counters Comet. "Citizen Davis has repeatedly protested his innocence. Justice has fuzzy lines and there's definitely some blur in this case. Commissioner Zenon has certainly lost all train of logic in hiring Citizen Davis. Someone's going to get hurt!" "Oh, the fun!" exclaims Bobby. The lights in the arena rise to their normal brightness. "Headstrong" fades from the loudspeakers and is quickly replaced by "Serial Thrilla" by Prodigy. Damage destructor, crowd disrupter Youth corrupter, everytimer Yeah, damage destructor, crowd disrupter Mainliner, everytimer Taste me, taste me Succumb to me, succumb to me Taste me, taste me Succumb to me, succumb to me Serial thrilla, serious killa Serial thrilla, serious killa Serial thrilla, serious killa Serial thrilla, serious killa Rob Gilbert makes his entrance, Mitch Duncan close behind. Gilbert makes his way directly to the ring. He's dressed in tight orange shorts and a white golf shirt, orange boots with a white 'G' on the sides finish the ensemble. A dark brown jacket rests on his lanky shoulders. As Rob strides to the ring, he pulls his jacket off and offers it back to Mitch. The trainer slash bodyguard takes the jacket and folds it over his arm. Removing the jacket shows that Gilberts' elbows and knees are protected with black pads, his wrists are also taped. Rob grabs onto the bottom rope and pulls himself easily onto the apron. Duncan quickly gets onto the apron and adjusts the ropes so that Gilbert can enter the ring. Funyon backs into a corner as Sean heads his direction. Davis pauses in the opposite corner, eyeing Gilbert as he enters the ring. The announcer holds the microphone to his face, "And his opponent, from Chappaqua Falls, Neeew York, weighing in at one hundred and sixty-five pounds, accompanied by Mitch Dunncan, the Lady Thrilla, ROOOB GILLLBERT!!" The fans in Hartford give Rob a bit more heat than they did to Sean Davis. This is only his second appearance, and many fans have the same notion as Marcus Washington, that his win against veterans Munich and Manson was a fluke somehow. Funyon exits the ring quickly as he feels the intensity radiating off Sean Davis. Rob Gilbert looks over his opponent and stays back. "What a mismatch this is," starts Bobby Riley. The camera focuses momentarily on the announce table. Cyclone Comet nods at his partner. "Sean Davis outweighs 'Robzilla' by a hundred pounds, has six inches on him, and has the football background to boot. Gilbert's going to do a lot of running in this match, I figure." Comet agrees, "Yes, Robert, Citizen Gilbert is outmatched, but he does have more experience in the ring and handling the pressures of the common crowd." "So is this crowd uncommon?" "We are in Connecticut, Robert," quips Comet with a chuckle. His mask seems to brighten as the bell rings. DING! DING! DING!! "Here we go!!" The referee backs away from the two competitors. Gilbert bounces on his toes as he circles, keeping his distance from Davis every time he tries to advance. Outside the ring, Duncan shouts a warning at Washington, "Keep your distance, slimeball!" Marcus blinks and raises his arms, appealing to the crowd, "What did I do? What did I do!?" He looks back at Mitch, pointing a finger at him, "I'll get you for defamation!! Watch your mouth!" The crowd begins to boo as Rob continues to dance around Davis. BOOOOORING! BOOOOOOORING!! "The fans aren't giving any leeway tonight!" shouts Comet! "They want some action!" "So do I," chimes Riley. Davis lunges at Rob, but Gilbert just slides to the side and regains his space. The Perfect Storm advances again, but just like last time, Gilbert evades. "That's the way!" Mitch can be heard complimenting Rob. "Find the opening and exploit!" BOOOORING!! "Don't listen to them!" shouts Marcus to Davis. "Bait him! Bait him!!" In the ring, Davis can be seen shaking his head, but he stops in the middle of the ring and raises his arms straight out. His pecs and triceps flex as he stands there, silently inviting Rob Gilbert to come in and make the first blow. Rob stops in one corner and glances down at Mitch Duncan. His trainer shakes his head 'no,' obviously advising against accepting this particular invitation. "Just get in there," suggests Riley. "Comet, there is going to be a match between these two, right?" Comet answers, "Well, yes, Robert. As much as I don't like a stagnant match, Citizen Gilbert is playing this smart." "Finally, Gilbert moves in to meet Davis, and gets socked in the head!" comments Riley! The fans cheer for the action as Sean drops Rob to the flat of his back with a punch to the jaw. Gilbert looks up in shock and scrambles out of reach as Sean stomps a boot where Rob's head used to be. He quickly gathers his feet under him and darts out of the way as Sean attempts a clothesline. Rob recovers and whirls to Davis, sending a few quick punches to his midsection. The linebacker bends only slightly before inhaling deeply and straightening to face Rob. Davis attacks with an overhead punch, but again, Gilbert dodges the swipe. He twists and throws a kick to Sean's midsection. Davis doubles a bit more, but just straightens and faces Gilbert a third time. "Get out of the corner!" Mitch implores! Gilbert takes a look at his surroundings and notices that he is indeed cornered. Davis charges for a clothesline, but Rob falls back to the mat and rolls out of the ring. Sean grabs onto the top ring ropes and kicks at the bottom rope, his rage coming through. "Come on!!" he shouts down at Gilbert! "Davis!" Marcus calls to Sean, waving him away from Mitch and Gilbert as they look to take advantage of their two to one situation. The referee also interferes and Sean turns, pacing back into the middle of the ring. He faces Gilbert and doubles over, resting his hands on his knees in wait. "Stalemate!" exclaims Cyclone Comet. "How about just stale?" asks Riley. He shakes his head and sits back in his chair. "Gilbert needs to grow some balls, and I have a hard time believing he's not fully equipped! Have you seen his shorts?" "No, Robert, I can't say that I have," Comet slowly replies, giving his partner a sidelong look of hidden disgust. It's really not hidden that well. Gilbert strides to meet Mitch, leans in and asks quietly, "What do I do?" The ring microphones barely pick up the conversation, but viewers at home are treated to the advice from Duncan. "You're gonna have to hit and run. Duck and weave. Or bust him in the nuts, whatever comes first." Gilbert nods. "Okay," he answers. "Get the ref, I'll do what I can." The two break huddle as the referee begins counting Rob out. "One!" Gilbert takes in a deep breath in preparation for his second entrance into the ring. "Two!" "All right, already!" he shouts at the referee! He slips into the ring and quickly pops to his feet, ready to defend against anything Sean might bring to the table. But Davis simply remains in the center of the ring, hunched over and waiting for his opponent. Gilbert relaxes slightly and walks a circle around Davis. Sean straightens and turns, acting as the hub to Rob's rim, keeping his eyes focused on Rob. BOOOOOORING!! BOOOOOOORING!! Mitch bursts into action, jumping onto the apron as he heckles Sean Davis. The Perfect Storm glances over at the trainer, then snaps his gaze back to Rob. Gilbert freezes in his tracks, his surprise attack abruptly halted. A guilty grin crosses Rob's features. The referee strides over to Duncan and admonishes him, demanding that he get off the edge of the ring. Noting that the ref's back is turned toward him, Gilbert darts toward Sean, but ducks under his clothesline and turns quick, dropping to his knees and bringing a forearm up into Davis' crotch! BOOOOOOOO!! Sean doubles over and falls to his knees, a hand holding his privates as they scream in agony. "Cheat! Cheat!!" Marcus yells as he waves emphatically at the referee. "Do your job!!" Washington power-walks around the ring and raises his fist at Mitch. He opens his mouth to berate the trainer, but quickly snaps it shut when Duncan drops off the apron and approaches the smaller attorney. Marcus holds his hand up to keep the bodyguard off and pleads, "Hold on, now." Mitch stops in his tracks and gives the lawyer a smug grin. "That's what I thought," he says snidely to Marcus. "Defiler of rules!" bursts Comet. The camera remains focused on the ring as Gilbert lands a kick to the side of Sean's head. Davis careens to one side, and hits the mat. Rob's eyes light up with golden opportunity, and he also drops to the mat, driving his elbow into Sean's ribs. The Lady Thrilla is up quickly, landing a quick series of stomps to Sean's sore midsection. A final kick pushes Sean onto his back, arms splayed as his stomach muscles beg for oxygen. Gilbert gives the Hartford crowd a thumbs up and a smirk as he struts to the corner closest to him and climbs to the top. "It's time to play Stun the Seminole!" Rob shouts to the crowd. The fans react with mixed laughter and booing. Gilbert smacks the underside of his elbow, declaring his next course of action. In the next instant he's in the air, flying down toward Sean Davis.. "Flying elbow drop! Can he connect?!" asks Riley. Cyclone Comet answers, "Yes! Yes! Citizen Gilbert has landed the flying elbow drop!" Rob hooks Sean's leg. The referee rushes toward the competitors and drops to all fours, smacking his hand on the mat with each count.. ONE! TWO! Shoulder up! Gilbert looks surprised and mutters at the referee. The ref just stands back and watches as Rob grabs Davis by the chin and the back of his head, helping him to his feet. Rob keeps Sean bent over slightly and hooks a leg around Sean's. "Two count for the first pinfall attempt of the night!" comments Cyclone Comet. Riley mentions, "I think the referee should just count all night." If only the fans at home could see the look on Comet's face. "Uh," he stammers. "Citizen Davis.. counters a failed Russian leg sweep from Citizen Gilbert!" Sean rolls behind Rob, interlacing his arms in Gilbert's. Davis pulls back on the full Nelson hold, to the point of lifting Gilbert into the air. Rob kicks in a feeble attempt to escape. Sean steps out with one leg and brings Rob's tailbone slamming onto his thigh! Rob's eyes cross and he stands straight as a board for all of three seconds before listing to one side and falling over. He then spasms like a fish out of water, his hands covering his aching backside. Davis moves toward Gilbert, but is stopped by the referee. Sean presses forward, but again the ref denies him, stating that he needs to make sure Rob Gilbert is okay. Davis rolls his eyes and takes a few steps back, just waiting. "Citizen Gilbert appears to be in a lot of pain after that Atomic drop," states Comet. The camera focuses on the announce table. A slight look of concern crosses Comet's face, while Bobby is smiling and trying to get a better look at the fallen Lady Thrilla. "He's hurt his bum!" cries Riley. "I could-" Comet cuts him off, "I know what you could do, Robert. Let's not get into that tonight, okay?" Bobby pouts. The cameraman pans over to ringside, where Marcus Washington is shouting and pointing at Davis. "You keep an eye on that Gilbert! He's likely pulling a fast one! I got Dunc-" SMACK!! BOOOOOOOOO!!!! "Mitch just leveled Washington with that cold, hard steel chair!!" exclaims Riley! Comet spews, "That vile upstart!" Riley continues, "And now he's entering the ring! Sean, look out!!" Davis turns his attention from Gilbert as he hears the distinct sound of chair impact. All he sees is a black object closing in on his forehead at an alarming pace. SMACK!! BOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! "Sean Davis has just been leveled! Mitch Duncan has created a wide open opportunity for his fledgling, Rob Gilbert!" screams Bobby! Gilbert continues to feign injury while Mitch makes his way out of the ring. Duncan gets to the floor and sets up the folding chair, right at ringside! He plops into the chair, eliciting laughter from the first few rows of Connecticut fans. Mitch folds his arms and watches as Gilbert suddenly jumps to his feet. The referee blinks, visibly confused. Rob just smiles and makes his way to the top rope. The referee turns around and appears stunned to see Sean Davis flat on the mat. He turns his gaze to ringside, where he sees Marcus also flat on the floor. Then the ref whips his head to eye Mitch Duncan, who just sits there as if nothing was wrong! "Why Commissioner Zenon continues to employ these incompetent buffoons never ceases to amaze me!" proclaims Comet! Riley immediately defends the referee, "They only have eyes in the front of their head, Comet. Give them a break! I'd like to see you get in there and do an outstanding job day in and day out!" Cyclone nods at his partner, "I bet I could, Robert. My super-senses would prevail!!" Gilbert ascends the corner and stands to face the crowd. He jeers at the crowd and thumbs himself in the chest, "Let me tell you, my poor friends, this is why I'm called Robzilla!! The Lady Thrilla!" He raises his arms to the booing crowd and vaults backward into the air.. ..Davis rolls out of the way. Gilbert belly flops hard on the mat, his target just out of reach. He grabs his stomach and curls, an obvious look of pain on his face. Sean lies on his back and stares at the rafters as he takes deep breaths, pulling himself back together. "One!" "Mitch looks like he doesn't know what to do!" reports Riley excitedly. "Two!" "And Citizen Washington is still out cold from Citizen Duncan's attack earlier!" "Three!" Sean rolls over to his side and then sits up halfway. Gilbert kicks his leg against the mat. "Four!" Davis ascends to his knees, then all the way up to his feet. He shakes his head to relieve the dizziness that still fogs his brain. The referee gives up his count as Sean heads toward Gilbert. The Thrilla gets to his knees, then finds himself being catapulted backward as a sizeable force grabs him around the neck. Rob doesn't fall back, however, but instead, Sean Davis lifts him into the air, his large hand gripping Gilbert's neck with ease. It isn't more than a second before Gilbert finds gravity playing a large role in this match, as Sean chokeslams his opponent viciously onto the mat! The ring vibrates with the ferocity of Sean's wrath! Gilbert cups the back of his head, still in pain. Davis wastes no time. He pulls Gilbert up by a handful of hair. Sean grabs up Rob for a scoop slam. He holds Gilbert vertical. Two, three seconds.. SLAM! Sean drops to his BUTT, forcing Gilbert back-first onto the mat with another ring shaking maneuver! "Falcon Arrow by Davis! The Storm is unleashed! Seek shelter!" cries Bobby! Davis moves for the cover.. ONE!! TWO!! THREE!! NO! Gilbert barely gets a shoulder up! The referee shows two fingers to Sean and then to the timekeeper. The crowd cheers, willing the match to continue. "Citizen Davis ALMOST had this match won!" exclaims Comet! "Rob Gilbert showing his colors with this one," states Bobby, his voice relaying a grim tone. Davis pulls himself to his feet, then trains Gilbert to do the same as he guides him to his feet. Sean keeps Rob bent over, though, and easily positions Gilbert's head between his legs for a standing head scissors. A movement catches Sean's eye and he looks over at Mitch Duncan. The trainer has a cold look on his face, and appears ready to climb into the ring. He already stands on the apron, and is only seconds away from darting between the ropes. A small, stripe-shirted man stops him. "Not allowed in the ring!" admonishes the referee. Mitch points toward Davis, "He's! He's using an illegal choke hold!" The ref waves Duncan off, and waits to make sure he jumps of the apron. Mitch scowls as he begins pacing. Davis returns his attention to Gilbert and bends down, wrapping his dark arms around Rob's waist. "Citizen Duncan reprimanded by the referee for attempting to interfere. See, Robert?" asks Comet. "They are good for something." Riley retorts, "Good for nothing!" In a smooth, easy motion, Sean lifts Gilbert off his feet and swings him onto his shoulders, powerbomb style. Rob sways forward, then a little to one side, but Sean keeps him steady. Davis locks his fingers together for added force and then bursts into motion! He projects Gilbert downward to the mat and absolutely piledrives his upper back into the ring!! The momentum of the powerbomb folds Gilbert over like a rag doll! "Jacknife powerbomb!" shouts Riley! "That was the ugliest powerbomb these masked eyes have ever seen!" says Comet! Davis drops to his knees and leans over Gilbert, he hooks a leg. As the referee slides down to start the count, Sean turns his head, more than aware that his opponent is down for the count. Now he watches Mitch Duncan, the warning evident in his eyes. ONE!! TWO!! "Sean Davis, looking for a debut win!" Riley cries! THREE!! DING!! DING!!! DING!!! The crowd erupts into mixed cheering and booing! Mitch Duncan throws his arms up in failure! The referee tries to grab Sean up for the victory presentation, but Davis just rolls Gilbert aside and gets to his feet. "Your wiiinnnerrrr, SEAAN DAAAVISSS!!" announces Funyon. Trapt's "Headstrong" blares over the speakers as the picture fades to black.

I marked MVS vs Dustin, and Dustin turned in a whizbang of a match, that's very reminiscient of an Edwin/Kibs/Thoth style story-match, but with commentary better than I could do, etc. etc. 88 words over by my count (I use AppleWorks, not M$ bullshit), but I think you can go well above Hardcore Title.

My computer is on the fritz, so I'm on a loaner. The show lacks descriptions, but I think you can make it work. (Z's note: All fixed by MEEEEE~! All matches are singles matches unless noted) SWF LOCKDOWN - JUNE 23rd Due Date: Wednesday, 8pm EST Venue: THE KINGDOME in Fargo, North Dakota. I urge someone to dig up the history on the Kingdome, just so I don't have to/the joke gets explained. Send Shit To: 5_moves_of_doom Main Event Non-Title Bout; Special Guest Referee Dace Night vs Janus Special Guest Referee: Tom Flesher Dace and Tom fought for weeks to decide the rightful number one contender to the SWF World Heavyweight Championship, but in an ironic twist, Dace will be the first one to face Janus (in a non-title setting, naturally). However, just to be fair, Tom has been asked to mediate this competition. After all, if neither of them have anything to lose, what's the harm? Rules: Standard singles match. Tom may write if he wishes. Word Limit: 6000 Send To: chirs3 Cruiserweight Title Match Austin Sly vs Johnny Dangerous Johnny defends the crusierweight title against Austin Sly, who's been... well, Austin Sly as of late. But hey, Johnny's a fighting champion and he'll take all comers, and Austin is a more than capable opponent. Fight! Rules: Crusierweight rules. Word Limit: 5000 Send To: Thoth Submissions Match "Deathwish" Danny Williams vs Mike Van Siclen Three times a champion, and three times having lost the belt, Danny Williams is in very, very elite company. Unfortunately, neither of his title reigns have inspired the sheer dominance that El Luchadore Magnifico's or Rane's did, and Danny is very, very uhappy about that. In a chance to blow off some steam, the ever ready MVS laces up to face Danny in a submissions match which seems tailor made for the former champion... Rules: Submissions match. First person to make their opponent give up is the winner; there are no rules otherwise. Word Limit: 5000 Send To: chirs3 USJL Title Match Alan Clark vs Aecas vs Todd Cortez vs Masked Man In an epic Iron Man match, Alan Clark finally unsurped Landon Maddix for the USJL title, finally ending their long-standing feud. So, it seems only fitting that his first defence be an epic as well. He takes on four hungry competitors in the Black Angel, the Urban Legend, and... Sexual Maskosaurus... Rules: First pin wins. Word Limit: 5000 Send To: 5_moves_of_doom Toxxic vs "Hollywood" Spike Jenkins Toxxic beat Nathaniel Kibagami at the PPV, so you'd think he'd be set to face someone a little more prestigious than Holly, here... never the less, that's what's tabled, so this should be interesting. Word Limit: 5000 Send To: realitycheck Hardcore Title Contendership Ryan Dustin vs Munich vs Manson Manson challanges Annie's record for most returns to the SWF, and he's welcomed back with a contendership match and Ryan Dustin and Munich. Yeah... Rules: First pin wins. No rules otherwise. Word Limit: 4000 Send To: Suicide King Heath Black vs Martin "Big Country" Hunt Two n00blets. They rock each other's sox! w00t! Word Limit: 3500 Send To: Thoth Max King vs Petey The Irish Penguin I'm not even going to TRY to summarize Petey, so forget it. I'll just say he's facing another new guy here in, thankfully, a singles match. Word Limit: 3500 Send To: realitycheck

God, I AM the worst booker the SWF ever had.

I forgot to change the stip, sorry MVS. Marker add. PARA PARA is awesome. It is awesome love-love dance energy.

We fade in to a startling close up of a fiery blue eye, gradually pulling out into all of Danny Williams’ torso is revealed. Despite suffering a devastating loss, there appears to be no absence of confidence in the three time Champion. Tanned and oiled up, the hulking former Champion is quite the psychical specimen. Evidently consciousness of the camera, Williams appears to be constantly flexing as he growls at the viewers... “Last week, the Hell Machine nailed my shoulders to the canvas for the 1-2-3, taking the World Title that I worked so hard to win. At the 13th Hour, Janus was the better man and there’s no denying that. But though the dream is dead, I’m still alive! I’m not gonna run away and hide again, oh no. So I’m here to tell you now Janus, that I’m staying right here! I’m gonna train harder, I’m gonna get stronger, and than I’m gonna come after ya! And when that time comes, I’m gonna summon all the power of my fans, hoist your 360 pound ass onto my shoulders and drive you straight into the earth with the biggest Powerbomb the world has ever seeeeeeeeeeeeeeen!” With a final snort, Williams holds one final pose for the camera, exposing every swollen muscle in his compact frame.

The air outside the Bradley Center in Wisconsin is rather cool, but there's a sharp nip to it that would make almost anyone shiver. Standing outside in this cool air, in the lit carpark, is none other than the venerable Ben Hardy and his cameraman Gus. He's waiting impatiently, rubbing his arms, and from the arena faint boos can be heard as a familiar car pulls into the arena. The door swings open and a pair of black boots hit the ground. Despite being champion, the Hell Machine still drives an ancient looking bronze Torana, too. As he straightens to his full height, he has the ICTV title over his shoulder, the World title around his waist, and his kit bag over his other shoulder. "Janus! Janus! If we could get a word with..." Without a word, the big man brushes past Hardy and continues his walk towards the building. Undeterred, the little interviewer bounds after him, at least until the giant suddenly turns to look down at him. "What, Hardy?" "We...I....uh....we just wanted to hear....your thoughts.... on your...win." Hardy stammers. "I don't have time for this now. But if you want to know my thoughts on winning the title..." He stares into the camera, as if staring at every SWF superstar in the locker room, his red eyes burning with the anger everyone knows the Hell Machine has deep down. "All I have to say is.... I won...bitches." He spins on his heel, not even looking at Hardy. And stalks into the Bradley Center, his trenchcoat flapping behind him. The poor interviewer rubs his arms and looks at Gus, who looks back at him, and then at the camera. "Well...back to ringside, I guess..." Fade out.

Our scene fades in on Ben Hardy, standing in front of the SWF Storm backdrop and next to Mike Van Siclen and Todd Cortez, collectively known as Hollywood Boulevard. Cortez's tag championship is fastened firmly around his waist, while Van Siclen's tag belt is slung over his left shoulder, and his Hardcore championship is slung over the right. The gold glints, shining into the camera, and Van Siclen adjusts his belts a bit as Hardy begins to speak. "Ben Hardy, here, alongside the World Tag Team Champions, Hollywood Boulevard. Guys, you're coming off of an incredible Casino Floor Brawl against the team of John Duran and Crow, in which you narrowly retained the tag championships. How does it feel to come into tonight having dispelled a lot of doubts about your second reign?" Hardy holds the mic up in front of Cortez. "You wanna talk doubt, Ben?" asks Cortez. "The only doubt there was was in the minds of the haters. The wanna-be's. What they didn't realize is that Hollywood Boulevard was just a time bomb waiting to go off. Yeah, we got into the mix pretty quick once I got here, taking those belts and having to deal with Aecas and Janus and Wild & Dangerous. Then we got thrown a curveball and went our own ways for a few shows, and that's cool, I've got no beef with that. Now that we've got the belts for a second time, everyone's on our case again. This time they're saying that we're just the big fish in a small pond. They say that the tag division ain't what it used to be, and I'll admit, that's true. That's why it's open season on these belts. Anyone who wants us, anywhere, anytime. You think we were worried about the Casino Brawl? Hell no, Hardy. A fight like that is right up my alley. Mike held his own too, save for his whining over that suit of his, right partner?" Van Siclen snatches the mic away, muttering that "Well, it was a nice suit." He clears his throat, and then... "Yeah, Ben, a lot of people said that this match was going to play into the hands of the hardcore stylings of Crow, and the experience of the wily veteran John Duran, and it boggles my mind because when it comes to hardcore stylings," Van Siclen nods to his Hardcore championship, "I'm the champ. And when it comes to wily vets, Ben, I've been here for four damn years. John Duran can keep saying that he's some seasoned veteran, but there is not a single soul in this federation that can outthink me." Van Siclen casually tosses the mic to Hardy, who continues. "You spoke about your Hardcore championship there, Mike, and during your recent run you defended it twice. A lot of people don't realize that you went 6-2 in the last cycle, an impressive feat for someone who had been written off for so long." Mike grabs the microphone again with a grin on his face. "Yeah, I had a pretty impressive run there, didn't I? But I... we... lost steam towards the end of the month, and because of that we had to stop the bleeding somehow, and the Casino Brawl was the perfect way to do that. As far as I'm concerned, we've got a clean slate right now, and I want to take both of these belts into Genesis V." Van Siclen tosses Hardy the microphone once more. "Mike, you had mentioned wanting to become the first-ever quadruple champion. Have you lost sight of that dream in recent weeks?" Van Siclen grabs the mic once more. "I don't think so, Ben. After the loss to Landon for the USJL belt -- one match that I really wanted to win, mind you -- I've been seriously trying to reevaluate my focus. Number one on my list, no matter what happens, is keeping hold of the World Tag Team championships. Everything else comes number two to that. If an opportunity to win the USJL, or the ICTV, or the Cruiser, or even -- God willing -- the World title, yeah, I'll take it, but right now my focus is on the two belts I already have. I want to establish myself with these before branching out even more." Mike casually hands the microphone back to Hardy, who turns to the Urban Legend, Todd Cortez. "Now, Todd, you have had your share of shots at singles gold in recent weeks as well, with varying success. Do you think we could see both members of Hollywood Boulevard become double champions in the future?" Hardy sticks the mic in front of Todd. "Without question. There's no doubt in my mind I'd have that Cruiserweight belt, but the matchmakers figured they'd cater to the champ and have him take me on in a match that his partner had experience with. That gave him an edge, sure, but why didn't they put Johnny in a match catered to MY strong points, huh? It's one of those things that make you go hmmmm, Hardy. Maybe it's jealousy, maybe it's the rep that my man Mike has built for himself, but you know, Hollywood Boulevard will forge ahead as a team. Mike Van Siclen will rise above his detractors, and Todd Cortez will continue to be the rookie phenomenon that got the world talking. These boys can go out and say that their records are immaculate, that they can't be stopped. Dace Night, John Duran, Johnny Dangerous, whatever, whoever. Ain't nobody on the street gonna be impressed with a guy who was able to hit five moves from the top rope. They're gonna be impressed with the guys who have the balls to get all up in the face of their opponent, then smash it in with a right cross. I'm not going to settle for second best, I never have, and I never will. Neither will Mike here. Think of it as the California Gold Rush of 2004, and we're just two prospectors looking for our take." Hardy takes the mic back. "Thanks, guys, and congratulations on the victory on Sunday. I'm sure we'll see you in the ring on Lockdown." Cortez nods, leaving, and Van Siclen follows... but he steals the mic from Hardy, a smile on his face. "Thanks, Benjamin, and you'd best get used to complimenting me -- I'm going to be a double champion for a long time." Van Siclen drops the mic, walking out, and Hardy is left helpless as we fade to black...

The screen flicks back to the image of the Storm crowd in Milwaukee, as the sound of the crowd is shattered as a warning alarm screams into life and flashing red lights glare around the arena. “Uh oh, looks like are new World Champ is about to come out and say a few things. Better batten down the hatches Comet. And don’t try anything stupid, I don’t think you insurance covers this sort of monster.” Sneers Riley over the sound of the alarms. “Robert, if no one else steps up then I’ll step up again. Someone has to fight this monsters, no matter what. I’m a Superhero and you just can’t sit back all the time. Sometimes you have to dust off the boots, good idea or not.” Comet replies slowly. [sTATUS: RELEASED!] Consumed with memories... That preceded today... Given a chance to bereave... Life that's slipping AWAY! Revive all my fears! Revive wasted tears! Revive void within! Revive once again! JANUS SUCKS! JANUS SUCKS! JANUS SUCKS! JANUS SUCKS! JANUS SUCKS! JANUS SUCKS! JANUS SUCKS! JANUS SUCKS! Resurrection booms out through the arena as Janus stands at the top of the ramp, surrounded by smoke and pyro. With the ICTV Title over one arm and the World Title over the over, Janus glares out at the crowd as he slowly marches down the ramp, ignoring the fans. “Ladies and gentlemen, failing from Sydney, Australia, at seven foot two and three hundred and sixty pounds, this is the SWF ICTV and SWF WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION …. THE HELL MACHINE … THIS IS JJJAAAAANNNNUUUUSSSS!” Booms out Funyon before bailing out of the ring, looking like he wants to live. Stepping up onto the apron and over the ropes, the Hell Machine stands with both titles over his trench coated shoulders, stooping down a moment to pick up Funyon’s mic. Looking through red eyes to the fans, Janus slowly shifts to the centre of the ring, before bringing up the mic and starting with a voice that rumbles like a land slide and soon quiets the crowd. ”Well, you don’t have much to say now do you. Less than me even. I crushed you hero like a bug. I take the title from him and now it’s mine.” Janus pauses for a moment and slides the ICTV title off his shoulder and into his huge hand. “Speaking of which, now I have the prise title, I don’t need this any more. I’m the World Champion and this is not worthy of me.” Janus throws the ICTV title down onto the mat before spitting on it. BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! FUCK YOU JANUS! FUCK YOU JANUS! FUCK YOU JANUS! FUCK YOU JANUS! FUCK YOU JANUS! “Janus just SPAT on the ICTV belt!” Comet yells, almost indignant with rage. “How can he do that to a title, any title at all even? This monster can’t be allowed to get away with things like that! “Well, he just did Comet. I don’t see any of those chickens in the back coming out to mouth off to Janus now. The belt was his, he could do what he wanted with it. But now he’s worried about the World Title. Good luck to anyone, even Tom Flesher, that wants to take it away from him.” Riley answers, with a half smile, half serious tone. “So to anyone that wants the World Title. They can come and try. I’ll squash them just like Danny Williams and leave them just as worthless as this belt!” Throwing down the mic, Janus stamps on the ICTV Title as he exits the ring, stepping back to the floor and striding up the ramp under a literally hail of boos, jeers and even thrown objects as security holds back the front row of fans. WE WANT TERRENCE! WE WANT TERRENCE! WE WANT TERRENCE! WE WANT TERRENCE! WE WANT TERRENCE! “Now, we have to wonder who will step up to the challenge of stopping Janus. Right now, even I’d rather have Tom Flesher as the Champ. And can even the Superior One stop the Hell Machine? Who else is going to set up to stop him?” Questions Comet. “No one, that’s who!” But as Janus reaches the top of the entrance ramp, a round of white pyro explodes from the ramp as Hero rips into life. Pausing form a moment, Janus watches the entrance way with an odd look on his face. RRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Dace Night comes flying out of the entranceway, followed several seconds later by a stream of SWF security guards. Leaping at Janus before the Hell Machine can react, Dace slams an elbow into his jaw and starts to wail on Janus, battering him with lefts and rights. Dropping the World Title to the ramp, Janus throws his head back in a yell and punches Dace full in the face with a Knuckle Bomb, sending him stumping backwards into the line of security guards. “It’s Dace Night! It looks like he’s had enough of Janus’ actions and he’s come out to settle it right now!” Comet yells out. “So someone called the White Night, he’s about to get his ass handed to him again! This is gonna be great. First Flesher and now Janus.” Riley shoots back happily. Throwing himself clear of the security staff, even dropping one of them to the ramp with a stiff elbow, Dace launches himself straight back at Janus, taking another Knuckle Bomb just to answer back with a flurry of elbows. DACE! DACE! DACE! DACE! DACE! DACE! DACE! DACE! The team of security guards swamp around the brawling pair, dragging them apart like trying to separate finger cuffs. Even as dozens of guards try to hold them back, the two strain towards each other, exchanging words and trying to land another blow. It takes almost every man there to drag the Hell Machine away and even as they do so, he throws several of them away before turning towards the back. “You’re not going to get away with this anymore Janus, I’m going to stop you. You’re going to have to fight everyone and I’m waiting for you Janus. You’re got a lot of shit to answer for asshole!” Dace screams out as the security team drag him off to the side of the stage. Much to the rage of the fans. BBBBBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! “Did you see that, the so called White Night just assaulted the World Champion! How can things like this happen around here?” Riley cries indignantly. “I think Dace has had enough of Janus’ actions and he’s looking to do something about them. Title shot or no title shot, a lot of bad blood is running again between these two.” Comet notes as the image fades out.

As Storm returns after a commercial break, the Milwaukee crowd are busily booing their heads off...as during the course of the break, they have been graced with the always commanding presence of Chris Card and his girlfriend Natasha. Both of whom seem to be in a pretty good mood tonight, with the suited and booted Card holding the NOT QUITE AS MYSTERIOUS AS THE MASKED MAN'S BUT STILL MYSTERIOUS NONETHELESS~! black briefcase with a sense of great importance. "Welcome back to Storm..." Cyclone Comet eventually greets us. "And, as you can see...Chris Card is in the ring ready to address this crowd. For what reason we're not sure, but I'm sure it may have something to do with La..." "Ladies and gentlemen!" Chris Card suddenly booms, cutting off Cyclone and garnering the crowd's attention. "Tonight is a very, VERY special night for all of you people. It is a rare occurence for many people to be in the presence of greatness. Few people can say they saw Ali in the ring. Few people can say they saw Mark McQuire with a bat in hand. Few people can say they've seen Tiger Woods at the tee. Few people can say they saw Hulk Hogan at his peak...Bret Hart at his peak...Ric Flair at his peak. But even fewer can say they've seen actually seen a star be born. Even fewer can say 'I was there the night Ali stepped into a boxing ring for the first time' or 'I was there when Michael Jordan first put on the Bulls jersey'. Tonight ladies and gentlemen, you can thank your lucky stars...because YOU are about to be graced by a star which is rising faster than even my bank balance." Card affords himself a laugh towards parts of the crowd and Natasha joins in...the fans obviously not privy to the obvious inside joke, deciding to boo rather than laugh. "Yes...tonight, you people will be treated to a once in a lifetime experience. The birth...of a star. So stand up...grab your cameras and your phones...if you're watching at home, press the record button right now. And allow me...to introduce you to THE FUTURE! The future of the SWF. The future of this business. The future SWF World Heavyweight Champion! Ladies and gentlemen, I give you... LANDON! LA CUCARACHA! MAAAAAADDIIIIIX!!!" "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" "PREPARE...FOR...LANDON!" ...WAAAAAHHHHH... *DUM DUM* "Megalomaniac" by Incubus hits around the arena, only just audible over the boos that promptly fill the air from the fans, as Landon Maddix steps out from behind the curtain...decidely lighter after his loss at 13th Hour, both in the bodyweight he must have lost through exhaustion and the many pounds of gold he no longer has. What is most odd about him though is the expensive looking designer shirt and pants he's wearing, the new Rolex watch on his wrist...and a beaming smile on his face!?! "Here comes the FORMER USJL Triple Crown Champion..." observes Comet. "Don't start that Cyclone. This man went through the most grueling match in professional wrestling at 13th Hour, and he personally checked himself out of his hospital bed just to be here tonight." "I don't recall hearing about that..." "Oh, it's true...Chris Card told me so." "And I suppose he only checked himself out so he could free up a bed for an old woman with hooping cough, or something 'heroic' like that." "...no. He just wanted to be here tonight." Continuing his walk down the ramp, Landon still looks smug despite the various chants of "Alan Clark", "You Tapped Out" and "Landon Sucks" that muddle together to form a mumble of discontent. Behind him is Megan Skye, wearing a pretty expensive looking bracelet to go with her usual clothes...most of this new money source obviously not finding it's way to her yet. Slowly Maddix reaches the steps and climbs gingerly up them, grimacing slightly as he bends down to enter the ring. "What a gallant guy Landon Maddix is." sighs Riley. "To be here with such excruciating injuries is a sign of what a true embassador to this company he is." "Let's not go over the top now." Megan follows up the steps, as Maddix shakes hands with both Natasha and Card, with the boos intensifying as soon as the music halts moment later. Card holds out his microphone for Landon, who takes it with a nod of thanks and steps into the center of the ring. "LANDON SUCKS! LANDON SUCKS! LANDON SUCKS!" "Ahem..." "LANDON SUCKS! LANDON SUCKS! LANDON SUCKS!" "A - HEEEEEMMM!!!" "LANDON SUCKS! LANDON SUCKS! LANDON SUCKS!" Finally realising he's not going to get any respect or silence from the crowd, Maddix sighs and resigns himself to the background noise. "When I was a little boy...I asked my mother...what will I be? Will I be...pretty? Will I be rich? And...perhaps to no surprise, she said to me 'Que Sera Sera.' Whatever will be, will be. She was a Doris Day fan I guess. But, at this moment in time, so too am I...because those lyrics have meaning to me. I'm only twenty years old...but right now, I know that I AM pretty. I AM rich..." "SHUT THE *bleep* UP! SHUT THE *bleep* UP! SHUT THE *bleep* UP!" Maddix stops and frowns at the interruption, while Card and co try to silence the crowd. "You people are probably pretty happy right now that I'm no longer the USJL Triple Crown Champion..." "YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!" "Well...'Que Sera Sera'. Alan Clark beat me at 13th Hour. Me and Alan went SIXTY minutes...the ultimate gut-check. We gave every ounce of energy that we had to win that match, and although he won the match, we BOTH survived. Yes, I would have liked to have the final say in our rivalry. I would have liked to still be holding my titles. But Alan...here's the deal. I gained a LOT of respect for you after what we went through. But when it's all said and done...you may have won the match and the unofficial series...but I won the war. See, at the end of the day, as far as the taxman is concerned, two of those belts you hold still belong to me. They were given to me by SJL officials. They're still MY property. The only reason I'm not in Commisioner Zenon's office right now, demanding a rematch for my Triple Crown...is...the man to my right." Maddix points to Card to boos from the crowd, as Chris does his worst impression of someone with modesty. "It goes like this Alan. You have the Triple Crown. And I am not going to go right back after those belts. In the future...who knows? 'Que Sera Sera'. But for now, you can have your moment in the sun my Wayward Son. Truth be told...I've outgrown those belts. Holding them was the greatest honor I've had in this company, and they are very important belts don't get me wrong. But as Chris Card has made perfectly clear to me, they're just not the belts that are right for me. You may have won the match. But I'M the guy who's going up in the world. Ain't that right Chris?" With a smug grin, Landon passes the microphone to the smiling Card, who drops his shades to the bottom of his nose and looks out to the crowd. "You are certainly right. You see...a few weeks ago, I told the world that I was looking for the future of this industry to mentor and give the benefit of my experience. I scoured the ranks of the SWF. From Cortez to Clark, Lezaire to Luchador, Dace to Dangerous...I scouted every single superstar in this company, from the barrel scraping enhancement talent to the number one contenders and former champions. To be honest, it was a tough decision deciding who would best benefit from and appreciate the advice of a legendary figure such as myself..." "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" "...until that is, I sat back with the boys watching the Sixty Minute Ironman Match at 13th Hour. And while certain members of the locker-room were sitting around drinking, talking and gambling...I sat and watched a MASTER at work. Through that the course of that hour, this man made up my mind for me. No offence to Alan Clark...you wrestled one hell of a match too, but you're not World Championship material. This young man next to me is." "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" "Well, the fans don't agree." notices Comet. "They should do." snaps Riley. "That's Chris Card doing the praising! That's better than praise from Ceaser himself!" "In this young man...I see a younger version of me. A man who knows what it takes to win. Someone with superior ability. Good looks. Charisma. A fine lady on his arm. And most importantly of all credentials. No other SJL World Champion was JOBBED in the way he was, by having the company fold around him. If not for that, I have every confidence that he would have gone on to be the GREATEST SJL World Champion in history. That's why I've invested the money, time and effort into making the Landon Maddix you see before you...the FUTURE SWF World Heavyweight Champion. The FUTURE franchise player in this company. Simply put...the FUTURE of the SWF!" The crowd murmur in disagreement, as the microphone is passed back to Landon who is on the verge of blushing from the shameless ego trip he's being treated to. "Thank you Chris. And might I say, what an honor it is to be associated with someone such as yourself." Comet vomits over the front row, as Card holds his hands up in thanks. "And with you guiding me along, it's only a matter of time before I begin to go after the World Heavyweight Championship. I do know my limitations though. I'm not going to go rushing into a challenge for the title like I did with Charlie Matthews. Oh, no. This time, I'm going to be smart. I'm going to bide my time and work my way up the ranks, climbing the ladder until I earn the shot." "Translation...he's scared of Janus." sneers Comet. "SHHHHH!" Riley angrily hisses. Looking around the crowd, Maddix's eyes lock on an 'Alan Clark- 60 Minute Man' sign...sneering at the fan holding it, before continuing. "But...with Chris Card Enterprises managing my affairs...I can guarantee that that won't take long. So...'Que Sera Sera'. If Zenon wants me going after the Cruiserweight Title, 'Que Sera Sera', because I am the single best Cruiserweight in this company...and Lil' Johnny Dangerous doesn't stand a hope in hell of beating me without his Carribean meal-ticket carrying his sorry ass!" "BOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" "If Zenon wants to put me in matches with Danny Williams, 'Que Sera Sera', because let's face it...who HASN'T beaten the roided up Japanese wannabee in the past few months?" "BOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" "Hell, if Zenon decides it best to book me in matches with Toxxic...'Que Sera Sera', because as much as I admire the limey bugger, I will defeat whoever is put in my path. David Blazenwing. Spike Jenkins. Crow. Aecas. Tom Flesher. Dace Night. I just don't care. 'Cause this is my time! My era! My destiny! Look in this ring... Megan Skye. Natasha. Chris Card. And the FUTURE of this industry. Look at this SWF, and realise... ...The Odds...Are Against You!" Boos fill the arena again, promptly joined by "Megalomaniac" blaring over the loud speakers as Landon casually flips the microphone over his head and reaches out to Card...the two men engaging in a firm handshake and a jolly good chuckle, as Megan and Natasha stand applauding. "Look at that sight." gleams Riley. "Glorious!" "It's sickening. They were one step off of 'Oooh, I love your hair' at one point!" Card and Maddix turn to the crowd and raise each other's arm in the air to more jeers from the crowd...but they simply laugh it off, as the entourage leads the way out of the ring. "Nothing wrong with mutual appreciation." "I might have known you'd enjoy the manlove." sneers Comet, shutting Riley up abruptly. "Folks, we've got plenty more talking on the way so don't move from your seats. We'll be right back..."

(The fans in the Bradley Center are going nuts as the camera pans down through the fans frantic to get their airtime. But the camera wastes no time at all as it wheezes by the throngs of fans- just to zoom in right at Comet’s mostly masked face). Comet pinches a part of his uniform. “See this short, balding, and stocky guy in these huge glasses came to me and said, ‘you know, cotton breathes easily, can you imagine being more comfortable so you could battle evil villains while they sweat in their spandex?’ So I thought it’d be a good idea if it was mostly cotton but some wool for heat in the winter- but it shrunk after I wished it,” Comet whines as the camera backs away a little bit revealing Cyclone Comet in his usual uniform- that seems two sizes too small. “Luckily I should get a new one before the actual show starts…” Riley snickers. Comet, being rather edgy, snaps back. “Oh hush Riley don’t make me tell about the time you came to the Christmas party and was wearing the same outfit as Ann Onita!” Riley opens his mouth then shuts up. He pauses before saying, “I warned her I was going to wear that…” “Anyway fans we have a very special surprise for you! We are going to see an amazing, truly amazing, match up!” Comet promises. The arena buzzes with excitement. “Yes we have a new recruit that seems very promising! But first he must go through a grueling Gauntlet!” Riley stares at Comet in surprise then reads his papers. “Oh yeah… but really he’s doing this to kill time and become a roadie…?” Comet hushes Riley. “Anyway we have collected over sixty of some our most memorable talent! Some of these classics include wrestlers back before the Minor League or Junior League was even heard of!” Comet says and the fans cheer loudly. Riley pauses and looks up at Comet then reads his paper again. “Uh, Comet, is this right?” Comet leans over and glances at it. “Oh yes! This gauntlet is VERY special, not just because of the unique talent but due to the rules! Wrestlers will enter at a totally random time interval and can range from one to eight wrestlers per entrance! There is no disqualification however once you’re eliminated you MUST head to the back. Eliminations come from any of the following- pin, submission, first blood, knock out, being sent to the outside of the ring, and not getting down to the ring within ten seconds!” Riley sighs. “We keep our standards low.” Raising one hand high and then moving his other below the table. “Oh so insanely low...” “Very low indeed, how else would Blazenwing come back otherwise?” Comet agrees. “Ladies and gentlemen- this is a 66 man gauntlet! There is no disqualifications but eliminated wrestlers must go to the back or being escorted to the back- eliminations come from pin, submission, knock out, being sent to the outside with both feet, and not getting to the ring within ten seconds!” Funyon’s voice booms. Silence falls over the arena and blankets the fans as they wait for the entrance- “Bbbbuuuuuurrrrrrrr, it is bloody cold in here!” A voice with a thick brogue says. The fans all cock their heads to the side in confusion. Suddenly bagpipes begin to blare and “Barroom Hero” by Dropkick Murphys starts up! The fans can’t believe it as they cheer their little hearts out as confetti shaped like penguins descends upon them! At the entrance ramp green, white, and orange pyro explodes everywhere. “Hey! I know who this is!” Riley cries out. The SmarkTron hums to life and two penguins are shown waddling until one of them slaps the other into the water! “UNLEASH THE FURY!” A loud, rowdy Irishman cries out. “Face down in the gutter won’t admit defeat- those clothes are soiled and black… he’s a big, strong man with a child’s mind… don’t you take his booze away, hey!” Now with no clue how to react the fans just watch the entrance ramp. “It’s Tim Dillon!” Riley shrieks. “No Robert, it’s not. The SWF didn’t want to spend money on new entrances,” Comet explains with a shrug. Suddenly the new hopeful employee leaps out- His face is rather pale with a bit of a blush to it, few scattered freckles around his nose, long blonde hair that’s shaggy near his eyes and those eyes definitely are unforgettable! The fans stare in shock as they realize that the familiar Irishman is wearing a huge, overstuffed penguin costume that completely engulfs his body expect for his face and near his knees! “That’s Tim Dillon!” Riley screams. “Robert, it is not!” Comet snaps. “He even has the khaki cargoes with shamrock patches sowed on Comet!” Riley protests. Nobody knows how to react as the man runs, well waddles, down the entrance ramp. He stops midway and throws his rather short fins into the air! But this causes his hands to break through the costume and he mutters a Gaelic obscenity. “He just spoke Gaelic, how can it NOT be Dillon?” Riley demands. Comet gets frustrated with his partner. “Robert! Stop it!” The wrestler dressed as a penguin stops at ringside and begins to Irish jig before rolling into the ring! Funyon is standing in center of the ring just totally bewildered and at a lost for words. “…Introducing from Limerick,” He pauses and shuts his eyes. “From the South Pole- weighing in at a disclosed weight… PPPPPEEEETTTTTEEEYYYYY THE PPPPEE” But the Penguin shuffles over and whispers something into Funyon’s ear. “Oh sorry- he is PPPEEETTTEEEYYYYYY THE IRISH PPPPPPPEEENNNNNNNGGGUUUIIIINNNNNNN!” Funyon’s voice booms. ”See Robert, it’s obviously Petey the Irish Penguin!” Comet says. Pete, or Petey, stands tall in middle of the ring, ready for a fight! Suddenly an obnoxious buzzer goes off and two men come sprinting down the aisle! The fans can’t help but to laugh as a third one comes jogging down already winded. “Why it’s Brahma Bull and MBASK!” Comet says as the two nearly slide into the ring. The third, obese and blushing red with exhaustion man gets to his stomach and rolls down the aisle! The laughter keeps going as the third man is identified. “That’s HamSauce!” Riley blurts out. The Brahma Bull hits the ring first and charges at Petey! But the Irish Penguin puts his dukes up in the classic “Fighting Irish” pose before launching a right hook! The Bull reels back and Petey turns his attention just to him! But behind him MBASK scoops the Penguin up around the waist! He tries to go for the lift and the drop but the talented Petey uses the momentum and kicks up his feet from the mat, flipping over through MBASK’s clutches and standing behind him on his feet! The opponent turns around to see a dazzling white grin on the Irish penguin’s face- CRACK! MBASK reels back from a quick elbow strike with such velocity that somewhere Danny Williams approves! He continues to be flailing backwards before he suddenly hits against the ropes. He gets charged at by the Penguin then dumped over with a clothesline! DING! DING! DING! “First eliminated- MBASK!” Funyon proclaims. Meanwhile on the outside HamSauce is disoriented on the apron from rolling, prepared to get into the ring. From behind the Brahma Bull tries to jump Petey! “Watch out Petey!” Comet cries. But the wily penguin from the South Pole can feel what the Bull is cookin’ and he throws back his rather constricted wings (arms) and clutches a hold of the Bull and snapmares him over all the way past the top ropes! DING! DING! DING! “Eliminated second- The Brahma Bull!” Funyon declares it official. “He seems very promising, doesn’t he Robert?” Comet asks while being impressed. “That’s because he is Tim… whiskey drinkin’, Irish jiggin’, Gaelic ramblin’ DILLON!” Riley cries as if this is getting under his skin way too much. Comet rolls his eyes. “Robert, you are so paranoid. There’s no way you could even remotely connect Petey the Irish Penguin and Tim Dillon!” HamSauce enters the ring only to be bombarded with Petey swift punches! “You think Citizen Petey learned boxing? He seems to know really how to throw down,” Comet says. The fans can’t help but to love this guy- “PETEY” The chant begins and is drawn out while it gets louder. Caught up in the moment Petey folds his wings (arms) over each other and begins to Irish jig! The fans explode into laughter and cheers as the overstuffed Penguin knocks HamSauce with a dropkick! The monster known to devour entire KFC stores is flipped over the top rope and lands smack down on his gut on the cement! The arena literally trembles and fans are thrown out of seats, drinks are knocked over, the poor, innocent popcorn vendor sent to the floor. “My God I think that was just about a 10 on the Richter scale!” Riley yells. He pauses as he barely saves his purple coffee mug from spilling. “Does it even go that high?” The aftershock dies down and Comet has to straighten his costume again. “Zeus curses this new uniform… oh and maybe Citizen HamSauce’s gut broke the fall for him.” Petey cautiously peers over the top rope to see if HamSauce even stirs, slowly but surely he gets up. Shaken the man waddles up the entrance ramp, much like Petey waddled in, ashamed of himself. “Eliminated third and nearly collapsing the arena- HamSauce!” “AT-KINS DI-ET” The fans chant and rapidly clap to. Suddenly the obnoxious buzzer goes off again and suddenly “Come As You Are” by Nirvana kicks up in middle of the song! “Pre-show glitch, sorry folks,” Comet admits. “I swear that I don’t have a gun… no I don’t have a gun….” The fans all look to the entrance and hear dry heaving sobs. “Is somebody crying? Somebody in need, need to be rescued!” Comet leaps up from his chair and his uniform splits from his collarbone near the small of his back as he slowly sits back down in embarrassment. “No I don’t have a gun... no I don’t have a gun…” The guitar solo starts but suddenly is interrupted by a shotgun blast! “Holy shit! Oh shit, I just said ‘shit.’ Oh wait- it’s before tapings just a trial run. Fuck! Balls! Shit! Damn! Poopyhead!” Riley giggles as Comet gives a swift slap of justice to the back of Riley’s head! There’s an awkward silence as everybody sits there silently until an SWF employee jogs up and whispers to Comet. “…Well apparently Grunge has been, uh, eliminated due to the ten second rule…” Comet coughs. “…That was deliciously ironic,” Riley admits. “Eliminated fourth- Grunge!” The loud obnoxious buzzer rings again and the opening riff of “Smells Like Teen Spirit” hits! “It’s Iceman!” Riley cries. Iceman comes sprinting down the ramp at top speed with a battle cry and a barbed wire wrapped kendo stick held high into the air! The jeers come pouring in as Iceman slides into the ring and rolls up! He charges right at Petey the Penguin who cautiously backs away without backing down from the fight! Iceman swings wildly and he misses, nearly clocking Kivell in the head! Again the stubborn jobber swings and rips right through the penguin’s chest! A huge slash as Iceman laughs like a maniac and Petey slowly looks down at the gash that now streams out with fluff. In disbelief he slowly touches the wound and pulls out a little chunk of fluff in the palm of his hand. “Oh that’s so disgusting…” Comet nearly barfs. “It’s Tim Dillon! Human! Dressed as a penguin! He bleeds! He does not fluff!” Riley shouts. Petey the (Irish) Penguin stares at the piece of carnage in his hands, and then balls his hand into a fist. Looking up at Iceman with such a fierce look he nearly sends Iceman whimpering away with soiled pants. His face scrunches into pure fury. Comet whispers slowly with excitement, “Yes… do it Petey!” “SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSQQQQQQQQQUUUUUUUAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWKKKKKKKKKK!” Petey charges at full speed letting punches so hard and fast fly that Iceman can’t even groan in pain! A right hook collides with his mouth which causes blood and teeth to fly, a jab shatters his nose, and he drops the kendo stick and stumbles to the nearest turnbuckle. He tries to seek sanctuary and slumps over as Petey grabs the barbed wire kendo stick. Slowly he drags back the weapon, aiming right at the bending over Iceman, back turned… before- SWOOSH Everywhere fans just can’t believe what they see and they wonder if there was more blood here or in Damnation In a Box. “…Did I just see a man get impaled with a barbed wire kendo stick shoved right up his anus…?” Riley questions. Comet would make the obvious joke here but it’s insanely hard to not be fixated on the sight as poor SWF employees quickly gather the mess and spray down the mat, rubbing the blood off. “…Holy shit…?” The fans chant in doubt. Even Petey is in disbelief but a good two-step Irish jig smoothes everything over! DING! DING! DING! “Eliminated fifth- ICEMAN!” “Well at least we never have to see his crazy bumps again…” Comet shrugs. “Ah not until we get rid of Insane Luchador, Spike, Dace, Aecas, Janus, and Jay before we are void of that…” Riley retorts. The obnoxious buzzer goes off again and this time the entrances are loaded! “Whoa, we just hit eight guys entering at once!” Comet proclaims. Quiet Death, Brian Bowers, Johnny Rotten, Bonecrusher, Fosta, Sean Casey, Juggalo Joe, and Hammer all come running towards the ring! Johnny Rotten slides in first and charges at the (Irish Penguin), tackling him down! The other seven hit the ring and pile on top of Petey! Kivell can’t see through the shuffle and therefore cannot make a safe count. “Dog pile on Tim, or Petey!” Riley yells. “PETEY” The chant kicks up again and the fans can’t help but to cheer as Petey the Penguin rolls out from underneath the wrestlers. He casually stands up and watches them all continue to pile on the canvas. Quietly he hangs his arms underneath the apron and pulls out a large, metal snow shovel! He strikes as he leaps over the pile and scoops Joe and Hammer up! Quickly he dumps them out and then lifts up Bowers and Quiet Death. The fans are in hysterics as Petey the Penguin shovels his opponents out of the ring casually! A scoop, some heavy lifting, and a dump is all it takes to eliminate the two! “Well Petey the Penguin has great shovel technique… must be due to all the snow he shovels down in the South Pole,” Comet says. Next are Sean Casey, Fosta, and Bonecrusher! Again all are dumped over the top rope and Petey drops the shovel out with him. He walks towards Johnny Rotten who is, oddly enough, dry humping the canvas. “…What the hell?” Riley simply asks. Rotten looks up in disbelief at the lack of male orgy. He stares up at Petey the Penguin who is staring at him with a look of confusion with a hint of disgust. Rotten scrambles to his feet and the two competitors collide in a grapple! Rotten begins to whip Petey the Penguin towards the ropes with the eliminated wrestlers who are being pried away from getting revenge on Petey the (Irish) Penguin by SWF workers. But in the ring the momentum is shifted and Rotten finds himself speeding at the ropes! Meanwhile on the outside Death has grabbed the shovel and swings blindly at the ring as security tugs him away! The metal shovel smacks Rotten right on the crown of his head and sends him crippled to the mat. Petey chuckles in disbelief of his luck as he slowly walks up to Johnny, towering over him. Slowly yet somehow politely he uses his foot to roll Rotten out of the ring! DING! DING! DING! DING! DING! DING! DING! DING! DING! DING! DING! …DING! DING! "Fuck it." “What the hell?” Riley asks at the odd bell ringing. “I’m pretty certain the bell ringer’s arm is tired,” Comet says. Funyon sighs. “The next eliminations- those eight guys!” Petey walks to center of the ring and just shakes his head as the buzzer goes off again. “Where’s the star power in this, I mean really!” Riley complains. Suddenly Spark and Hellfire come running down the aisle. “This could be a legitimate challenge for Citizen Petey!” Comet insists. Not feeling generous at all Petey charges and the second Hellfire finds himself on the apron he finds himself flying back! Meanwhile Spark leaps up and trips on the apron, falling back first onto the cement! “Or not,” Comet mutters. DING! DING! DING! DING! DING! DING! “Eliminated fourteenth- Hellfire and fifteenth- Spark!” Again the buzzer blares and everybody’s attention turns to the entrance. Suddenly a Dashboard Confessional song hits and Petey the Penguin can’t help but to crumble to one knee as if in extreme pain! “So terrible music with whiny lyrics is like Tim’s kryptonite!” Riley proclaims with an evil laugh. Matt Myers steps out to soak up the cheers from the fans… but there are none. His hair is dyed purple and spiked in every direction, eyeliner, and a sad look on his face. The enthusiastic Myers feels his heart plummet and he slowly walks down the ramp. Petey stands up again and stares while Matt Myers sniffles and whimpers. “My God, is he crying? Because that’ll make that make up run really easily,” Riley says. Myers throw out the straight edge symbol but it only draws more jeers. “This is like watching a non-successful, non-talented Toxxic!” Riley insults. Matt holds in his tears and rolls into the ring standing up and staring at Petey. His lower lip trembles as he slowly asks, “Petey, what is it worth?” The (Irish) Penguin takes a step back before giving a quizzical look at Myers. “I mean nobody likes me…” Myers says. “Oh not two suicides in one match,” Riley sighs. Petey nods in agreement with Matt who slowly leans up against the ropes. “FIGHT YOU PANSY!” The crowd chants as Petey can’t help but to smirk. “I’m just a washed up failure…” Myers lets a few tears flow. Petey gives a face of concern and steps towards Matt. He flinches as the (Irish) Penguin places one exposed hand on Myers’ shoulder. The heavy Irish accent is clearly heard. “Matt.” He mutters some Gaelic. “Just one thing to say… hey! Head up, don’t ya’ go embarrassin’ your bloody image!” Myers lifts his head and looks at Petey the (Irish) Penguin with teary eyes. “Cheer up you fuckin’ emo child!” Petey shouts. CCAAARRRRR-MOTHER-FUCKING-THIS-BEATS-EDWIN'S-WILSON'S-AND-TOM'S-PALM STRIKE-AAAAAAAACCCKKKK! Is the immediate response as Myers is sent flipping to the outside! DING! DING! DING! “The sixteenth elimination… MATT MYERS!” Funyon yells while Myers sobs heavily. Petey pauses and sighs before busting into an Irish jig until the next buzzer rings! “Something is familiar about that Citizen Penguin… but I just can’t quite make the connection…” Comet says with suspicion. “You can dance with you want to!” Comet groans. “KFC, KFC IS IN THE HOUSE!” Riley screams with sarcasm. Fans everywhere groan as the eight KFC members come strutting down the ring! DING! DING! DING! “Next eight eliminations- KFC!” The members halt dead in their tracks and look at each other in confusion. Two scrawny SWF workers begin to walk up the ramp to explain that KFC is gone because, quite simply, they have no chance. The KFC fumes with rage and Ted Flink sets a bad example of a leader by nailing one worker with his wooden cane! Kernel McJabbid then clotheslines the other done and this allows KFC to come swarming to the ring! “They’re like herpes, they never go away! May stop and not show up for a few years but then, BOOM!” Riley exclaims. Ted Flink pauses as he sees a rather enraged Petey the (Irish) Penguin in middle of the ring glaring at the ML stable. He sends Henry and the Big Nosed Nerd first both armed with tin ovaltine cans! “Are they still advertising for that crap?” Riley asks. “I hope not, we don’t encourage that in the SWF,” Comet says. He looks into Riley’s coffee mug. “Hey, isn’t that the new PEPSI MAX II?” “Yes, Comet, it is! Oh but with half the calories.” Riley hypes. “Oh yeah?” Comet acts interested. “Same great taste!” Riley says as he takes a swig and smacks his lips. Petey watches the two pathetic losers enter the ring and hold the tin cans high. The Big Nosed Nerd tosses one at Petey, who ducks under it as it zooms by. At the announcer’s table an ovaltine can collides with Riley’s coffee mug! “God damn it!” Meanwhile on the outside the remaining six KFC members scramble to get the steel folding chairs! Ted Flink has to resort towards Funyon’s chair next to the announcer’s table. “God I lost my endorsement because of that nerd!” Riley fumes as he stands up and walks towards the old man Ted. “Now Robert don’t you go interfering!” Comet insists as he leaps out of his chair again. Thus tearing half majority of his chest’s uniform. But inside the ring Petey the (Irish) Penguin charges at The Big Nosed Nerd who stands there cowering in the corner! One dropkick nails The Big Nosed Nerd right in the face as blood splatters as if this was a Quentin Tarantino film! The rest of the KFC stable watches there big nosed friend flop over onto the cement and Kernel McJabbid snatches the limp body before hauling ass to get away. Steel chairs dropped and a Big Broken Nose Nerd being dragged before they make their escape to a laughing Petey the (Irish) Penguin. Meanwhile Flink is staring at Riley who suddenly whips out with a vicious bitch slap! He snickers as Ted Flink hops the rail and runs away only to get harassed by fans. Riley walks back mumbling as Comet tries to use paper clips to fix his uniform. Riley glances at Comet’s chest and stomach. “Man you really let yourself go, you know that?” Finally rid of the KFC stable the obnoxious buzzer is heard again! ”Robert, please,” Comet begs. “No really Comet, you’re sagging more than Janet Jackson!” Riley squeals. Suddenly a whole band begins to play a catchy ragtime tune and everybody is snickering while wondering who’s going to be emerging from the entrance ramp. Soon an old man begins to come down the aisle and there are only a few fans able to recognize the man. “Why it is that vile Simon Flare!” Comet yells. Petey the (Irish) Penguin just laughs and waves his wing (arm and hand) in the universal “Just bring it!” fashion. Flare responds with a cocky smirk and he begins to jog down to the ring! “Old school versus new school, I love it!” Riley says. But suddenly Simon Flare stops in his tracks and his eyes bulge wide before he suddenly grabs his chest and falls to one knee! “Oh come on!” The heavy Irish accent chimes in. “What the squawk is going on with this match?” “Medic, we got a man down with a heart attack!” Comet cries out. “Hell does he need mouth-to-mouth?” Riley asks with interest. Everybody watches apathetically as Flare swarmed by paramedics and loaded onto a stretcher. Soon it hits the ten second mark- DING! DING! DING! “Eliminated twenty-fifth from the match… SIMON FLARE!” Petey the (Irish) Penguin can’t help himself as his arm wiggles into his body soon revealing a silver flask with a gold chain! “That’s Dillon’s flask! That is the EXACT one, I swear!” Riley exclaims in fury. “Robert don’t be silly, Tim Dillon’s flask had his family crest on it!” Comet chuckles. Instead the flask has a taped up piece of paper with a huge “P” written in black sharpie. “You know, only sharpie could make such a visible mark!” Comet says and he pulls one seemingly out of thin air. “I couldn’t fight terror and evil villains without my sharpie! I’d feel naked without it!” “Only an Irishman can make up so much bullshit!” Riley quips back. He glances at Comet again. “Besides you ARE nearly naked.” Comet shrugs. “Yeah it’s pretty cold in here…” Riley glances down. “Yeah it’s a bit nippy in here but we BREAST not go there!” He begins to crack up and slap his knee. But something catches his attention. Petey the (Irish) Penguin takes a swig out of the flask and makes a small face before trying to speedily put it away- causing his “penguin family crest” to fall off and slowly float to the canvas. He scrambles to pick out the paper. “Comet, damn it, look at the flask now! That’s Dillon’s family crest!” Riley nearly goes ballistic. But by the time Comet goes to look the buzzer goes off and Petey has reattached the “P” onto the flask. Riley bangs his head against the desk. “Robert as a co-worker and friend, I want you to calm down.” Comet demands. “It’s so obvious Comet!” Riley whines with his head hung low in disbelief. “I am not on crazy pills! Petey the Irish Penguin is Tim Dillon!” “Robert, do the nice men in the white suits have to come take you away again in your ‘special jacket’…?” Comet slowly asks. Before Riley can respond the sound of a want-to-be Bob Marley fills the arena. “Oh-ho, we don’t want no war, no more blood (oh yeah man) Keep the peace and there won’t be carnage floods! (Go stand up and go for peace) Just light up the peace flower! Use the Mary Jane power! Oh-ho man, stand up! Tell the man he fucked up! Oh-ho man we don’t want dead in our streets No more troops to fight in the streets to might! Oh-ho man this could be the end Every man left to fend- For their rights Stop the fights! (The fights)” “That song is very touching… but isn’t it ironic that he wants peace but he’s fighting…?” Riley points out. “Yes but who is this fair Citizen?” Comet asks. Suddenly a Jamaican man walks out with bongo drums calmly tapping on them while swaying his head to the song! “Why that’s Jack Beatnik!” Comet exclaims. Petey the Penguin allows the hippie to saunter his way down giving a few coughs due to a bit too hard hits on that new pipe. He stops mid-way and burps up a little cloud of smoke and just smiles contently as he places the bongos down carefully and rolls into the ring. The two foreigners make eye contact before they charge and the two attempts to grapple. But Jack dodges around it and smacks Petey with a vicious kick into his back! He hits the ground and rolls forwards while trying to regain his balance. Petey the (Irish) Penguin turns around to see Jack charging right at him! He frantically grabs the turnbuckle behind him and rips off the top pad- dropping to the ground and using his legs to drop toe hold Beatnik right into the exposed steel! The pacifist finds himself a victim of a rather cheap tactic and a victim by more bloodshed caused by that damn Man himself! Jack’s forehead is cut open and now the Beatnik slowly rolls out of the ring, snatching his bongos. DING! DING! DING! “Eliminated twenty-sixth… JACK BEATNIK!” He mumbles about Petey before he pulls a joint out of his pocket. “That’s not legal!” Comet cries out. “Yes it is, bloodshed means elimination,” Riley says. “No I mean the usage of that ‘mary jane’ or ‘hash’ or ‘janga!’” Comet proclaims. “Whatever floats his boat,” Riley says as he shoots up his fist into the air. “Fight the man, Jack, fight the man!” In the ring the (Irish) Penguin stands tall in disbelief just how easy this match really is. Again that obnoxious buzzer rings and out comes the one and only, thankfully, Payne! Fans shrug indifferently as Payne charges down the aisle and is ready to leap into the ring- “Oh hey, some poor fair citizen lost his balloon!” Comet points out as a shiny, red balloon floats right by Payne’s face. “Best match ever! Best match ever! Best match ever! Oh, hey, balloon! Hehe, come here Mr. Buuuuuhhh-llllloooooonnnnn!” Payne shrieks like a child as he chases after the astray balloon as it barely passes ringside Payne looks up with his arms desperately trying to grasp this shiny object until- SMACK! “Ouch! Payne just eliminated himself by running head first into the steel ring post!” Riley yells then pauses and realizes the hilarity of it all. “Buwahahahahahahahahahaha!” “It’s not THAT funny Robert, I’m sure Payne forgot his medication…” “Hahahahahahahahahaha! BUUUUHHHH-lllloooonnN!” Riley can’t stop cracking up. “Robert, stop. It’s really not that funny,” Comet says. Riley glances at his half-naked partner. “You’re right, but I’ve milked every nipple joke I could squeeze into the commentary!” “This is like being fifteen years old all over again,” Comet mutters. DING! DING! DING! “Eliminated twenty-seventh… A.D.D. BOY, PAYNE!” Petey stares down at Payne who is knocked out cold and being dragged by SWF employees up the entrance ramp as one of them returns the balloon to a little kid dressed up as Aecas! “Aaawww, that’s so adorable!” Comet says in response to the gothic little kid. Again the loud buzzer rings while Petey rolls his wings (arms) trying to get warmed up for a legitimate competitor shows up next… “Thunder… aaaahhhh…. Thunder!” …Or not. “Well, uh, it’s Thor. Hurray,” Comet says disappointed. There’s a bit of a commotion backstage as we hear whiny yells of, “No! I demand a title shot! Not some jobber spot!” Reluctantly Thor is pushed out into the spotlight. The Norse God has apparently really let himself go as he has a five o’clock shadow that even George Michaels would have to sell. Not to mention his usual muscular body now has rolls of fat and his long blonde hair looks as if he hasn’t showered in years. “Oh God, is that your armpits Comet or has Thor not showered in a long, long time?” Riley asks while pinching his nose. “Why Robert, it hurts that you accuse me of that! I’m wearing ‘Old Spice- High Endurance’ the pure sport blend! It lasts all night long when I need to last all night long, if you know what I mean!” Comet winks. “…The one day I forget my puke bag there’s been a sodomizing with barbed wire kendo stick, Comet half-naked, Thor smelling like every old hippie and mallrat put together and now…” Riley begins. “But Robert, the staying power of this deodorant is truly remarkable but what’s even better is how great it smells! Lasts all night long when I work out,” Comet says with another product plug. “…If working out means watching old videos tapes of you versus Neilsen of the Jungle in that Hell In a Cell match, then yes, you work out all night,” Riley jeers. “It was a good match!” Comet snaps back as he glances at his flabby, exposed chest. Thor turns back around and tries to walk backstage but again the SWF employees shove him back out. He spits on the entrance ramp and yells, “I’m too good for this, damn it! That’s it! I’m out!” “Who is he? Axl Rose? I mean, come on, he’s just as washed up and whiny!” Riley demands because Petey the (Irish) Penguin has even wormed his way into Riley’s heart. But now instead of SWF employees coming out Spike Jenkins is now airborne! He nails Thor with a spear that sends him back into the guardrail! The two with their old grudge begin to duke it out! Spike Jenkins easily gets the advantage and smacks Thor’s head against the guardrail. He laughs as a confused man stands up and looks around, seeming rather pale. “Doesn’t that man resemble Ronald Reagan…?” Riley asks. Everybody around him notices as the man slowly shakes his head. “Where am I? Who am I? Why am I at a wrestling show?” The distraction gives Spike the time to pull out an insanely large glass bong! “What is wrong with their generation Robert? I mean really, they’re all hoodlums!” Comet cries out as he sees another illegal object. “I’m more curious how he fit that big bong into his baggy pants… oh and hey, at least we know who hooked up Beatnik,” Riley says. Jenkins smashes the bong after his ex-arch nemesis and then grabs him by his hair, dragging him offstage. DING! DING! DING! “The twenty-eighth elimination… THOR!” “Thank God the ‘ten second to get to the ring’ part was thrown in last moment,” Riley says with relief. Petey the (Irish) Penguin is now just casually Irish jigging in center of the ring figuring he didn’t travel this far to not break a sweat. The obnoxious buzzer goes off again and three former SJL nobodies come charging down the ramp! “…Who are they?” Riley asks. “Okay one of them is Citizen J.T. Playa, I think…” Comet starts to identify. Petey stops the jigging and cocks his head to the side as he also has no clue of whose he’s ready to face. “Okay the other is Kojack and the last one is John Stark!” Riley finally realizes. The three all slide into the room at the same time before charging at Petey! The (Irish) Penguin ducks under a clothesline attempt by John Stark! J.T. Playa with his pimp cane swings at his opponent, only to catch the back of Stark’s head! But Kojack is able to grab Petey the Penguin from behind and quickly lift him up for the backdrop! But Petey is able to flip over again and lands on his feet behind Kojack, bringing his leg straight into Kojack’s crotch from behind! Everybody winces but Petey’s comment is priceless, “Oh right in the shamrocks!” Kojack slowly drops to one knee with his eyes scrunched and mouth half opened. Petey the (Irish) Penguin then leaps out at J.T. Playa! He snatches a front facelock while Stark retreats to recover in the corner behind the rest of the competitors. Petey grabs a handful of those shiny pimp pants and lifts him into the air before easily edging his way over to the ropes! Petey gives a “heave-ho” before dumping J.T. Playa to the outside with a released vertical suplex! DING! DING! DING! “The twenty-ninth elimination… J.T. Playa!” “We really did make this a bit too easy, didn’t we?” Riley asks Comet who slowly nods. Petey turns around with a smiling creeping across his face but he suddenly sees Stark charging right at him! Petey freaks out and drops down in perfect timing while John is within reach and he grabs both of his arms! Tugging him down to the canvas the (Irish) Penguin places Stark on his feet ready to spring- then sends him flying over the ring with a monkey flip! John Stark is sent soaring and that pesky law of gravity brings him down with his back smacking against the steel barricade so hard it gets moved out of place! “Ouch!” Riley can’t help but to exclaim. “PETEY” The chant kicks up again. DING! DING! DING! “The thirtieth elimination… JOHN STARK!” Petey the (Irish) Penguin does a cute little jig in celebration before turning around and seeing Kojack just laying on the mat on his back, crying! He squawks in confusion but suddenly gets an idea, vaulting onto the top turnbuckle! “Hey! Penguins can’t fly!” Comet yells. “But Irishmen can!” Riley protests. “They can also get wasted and write awful poetry!” But Petey proves Comet wrong as he leaps off with a Moonsault while twisting his body in an amazing visional! Fans everywhere erupt into cheers and lights bulbs flash off everywhere as Petey the (Irish) Penguin connects with a corkscrew Moonsault! “He just hit the ‘penguins can too fly!’” Comet says while glancing at his sheet. He lies there for the cover! “ONE!” “TWO!” “THREE!” DING! DING! DING! “The thirty-first elimination is Kojack!” Again an SWF employee finds himself kneeling down and whispering into Comet’s ear. “No, I heard waxing the chest would hurt,” He mutters then shakes back into reality. “Apparently folks I have to be the bearer of bad news… there was a shocking, freak forklift incident backstage. So the follow competitors have been eliminated- Reason, Suicide, Shadow, SOS, Basketball ASA, D-Red, Heat, and Goldeneye,” Comet says. “…How about that?” The bell ringer doesn’t even bother. “The thirty-second through forty-first eliminations- Reason, Suicide, Shadow, SOS, Basketball ASA, D-Red, Heat, and Goldeneye!” “Well I’m sure they’ll be missed… by somebody, somewhere,” Riley says. “Robert! That was not very tasteful!” Comet scowls. “Ah, come on. A little dark humor for you guys, I mean where would Marilyn Monroe be right now if she was alive?” Riley asks. “…I don’t know, Robert, what?” Comet is afraid to ask. “Clawing at the lid of her coffin,” Riley snickers. Petey the (Irish) Penguin can’t believe his luck and actually takes a seat in middle of the ring while reaching inside to pull out a cigarette where it’s dyed green. He casually lights it and soon begins to puff away. “Oh sure, set a bad example for the kids. Smoking is dangerous, wrong, and naughty! Just say no, Citizens!” Comet says. “But if you must smoke I heard that Frost is coming out with a cigarette brand too!” Riley says. “Smooth and rich or mellow, it’s delightfully delicious! Take a drag or be like Ash and be stuffed into a bag!” Again the annoying buzzer rings off and there’s silence as there’s not even a stir near the entrance ramp. “Wait, apparently citizens we have a dilemma going on backstage! Apparently three of our workers are on a rampage and are knocking out the rest of the jobbers, err, employees!” Comet shrieks. The SmarkTron comes to life and backstage a cameraman cowers behind a crate- watching Toxxic, Jay Dawg, and Danny Williams are seen tearing the poor, unlucky competitors to pieces! Toxxic smashes a punch bowl over Cutthroat’s head then nails Adonis with a punch… crushing his ‘precious’ nose. “What does Toxxic have against them?” Riley asks. “Apparently somebody spiked the punch and he flipped,” Comet says. “Spiked it with what?” “Whiskey,” Comet says. In the ring Petey the (Irish) Penguin gives a smug grin with a “whoops” face. Jay Dawg launches Lost Soul into the wooden crates in the corner after already being pummeled to oblivion. Meanwhile Toxxic and Danny continue their sprees as JD chokes Lucky with a urinal puck! “It’s a massacre, it’s a massacre!” Comet cries. “What’s Jay Dawg pissed about?” Riley asks. “Somebody called him a ‘jobber,’” Comet replies. Finally Danny is just knocking out the final jobbers with vicious elbows while wearing a red and yellow bandana. “What are you going to do, brotha’?” He screams at Leo and Hybrid who both get knocked silly. Soon the jobbers’ bodies are just scattered strewn as each wrestler storms out in an opposite direction. “…I think they just got rid of the rest of them?” Comet says with uncertainty. “Looks like a battle field out there but at least this match is over… and you can put on a freaking’ uniform,” Riley says glancing at Comet. “My god dude it’s really not that cold in here!” Suddenly past all the beaten competitors one man stands tall. “Why it’s Cardboard Comet!” Comet proclaims. But Jay Dawg suddenly pokes his head around the corner, chomping the cardboard figure’s head off! Comet shrieks out loud like a girl who just saw a mouse. “How insanely cruel and disgusting that was of Citizen Dawg!” The bell doesn’t even bother chiming and Funyon gets on the microphone, “YOUR WINNER OF THIS GAUNTLET…” But an SWF employee cuts him off. “Ahem, all those backstage knocked out have been eliminated!” “Well that must mean there’s one more person!” Comet reasons and suddenly he flips over the back of his sheet, staring at two sticky notes. He mumbles it out-loud. “Guys don’t mess up we’ve decided to put this in the actual TV taping slot and the newest addition to the match is…” Comet looks up from the paper. “Who is it?” Riley demands. “I… don’t… believe… it…” Comet says. “No wonder he wanted to televise this, it’s the one and only-” I said Hallelujah - to the sixteen loyal fans-ah For getting down on your motha’fuckin’ knees- RRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH! Every single fan is off their seats and staring at the entrance ramp! “Holy shit! Holy shit!” Riley just cries in repeat. The lights go out and the cheers just simply can’t get any louder! “Edwin’s back, we’re on live, we’ve seen sodomizing with barbed wire kendo sticks, we’ve seen it all but now Edwin’s here!” A spotlight hits on the entrance ramp and indeed there is the red flowing trench coat, wild hair, the two different colored eyes, the unforgettable face… … That’s shrunk about twenty times Edwin’s size! “Adorable Edwin, the Mini-MacPhisto is charging down to face off Citizen Penguin!” Comet squeals as every fan has no clue how to react. The midget version of Edwin MacPhisto runs down the ramp and lets his trench coat free as he slides into the ring, hopping to his feet! He charges at Petey the (Irish) Penguin and quickly leaps onto his foot! Petey yelps as Adorable Edwin begins to smack the (Irish) Penguin around with punches! Suddenly there’s a one-two slap and a nut shot and the fans can’t help but to nearly die at the sight of a midget Cocktail O’ Shame! “My God he’s quite feisty,” Riley says. Adorable Edwin leaps into the air and clutches the top of Petey’s head with a dragon sleeperhold! Petey freaks out as Mini-MacPhisto is attempting to hit the classic dragon sleeper leg sweep but he’s too short! The (Irish) Pimping Penguin reaches his arms behind him and clutches onto the Mini-MacPhisto before tugging him off! He holds him high above his head as Adorable Edwin’s blood rushes to his head. Petey the (Irish) Penguin then switches the hold as Mini-MacPhisto finds himself laid out behind Petey’s neck while staring up at the ceiling! “No way, don’t do it Petey!” Comet cries as he knows what’s coming. Petey then does the hop to the side as he lets Mini-MacPhisto slide! BAM~! Hitting the BURNING HAMMER~! “Tux’s Takedown!” Comet cries. Petey checks to make sure his opponent isn’t crushed into oblivion and he hooks the leg. “ONE!” “TWO!” “THREE!” “No! He got the shoulder up!” The fans begin cheering for watching the Mini-MacPhisto casually roll back to his feet and simply crack his neck to each side. “…Maybe his head didn’t even hit the canvas?” Riley wonders. Petey the (Irish) Penguin stands up and towers above Adorable Edwin before using a knee to knock him down! But quickly he does a kip-up and uses the momentum to swing his leg up and connect with another Galatea special! The damage has definitely been done as Petey can’t help but to wheeze and turn his back to Mini-MacPhisto in pain! Adorable Edwin makes the most of it as he clutches Petey’s arms outwards and drops to the mat letting Penguin rest on his back. Then with one swift movement he spikes Petey down with the spiked backslide! Comet can’t help but to laugh. “How did that just happen?” The pin’s already in place- “ONE!” “TWO!” SPLAT! In utter confusion the fans all see Petey laying on top of Adorable Edwin, who’s been crushed by all the weight! Flatten like road kill the Mini-MacPhisto has gives up! DING! DING! DING! “YOUR WINNER OF THIS GAUNTLET… PETEY THE IRISH PENGUIN~!” This time “Ice Ice Baby” kicks up as the dazed Adorable Edwin and Petey shake hands! Then the (Irish) Penguin can’t help but to hoist the incredibly tough impersonator on his shoulders! The fans go nuts as the two parade around the ring in a victory lap, before Petey trips! “Ouch! Well we have to cut to a commercial break, don’t miss it!” Comet says. “Yeah go put on that new costume too,” Riley says. ~STARWIPE~

The camera now cuts to the back, where we see a young, and lovely looking tall red-haired woman in a business suit standing in front of a locker room door. "Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Kelly Connelly...future manager extraordinaire. You people are in for a treat tonight, as you're going to be introduced to the next generation of wrestler. A man who will take this company by storm, and will become the next mega-star in NO time. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you..."THE ICON" MAX KING!" The door behind Kelly now opens, showing a handsome man with black hair in very expensive looking clothing and a smug look on his face. Kelly smiles to Max, and then gives him a kiss on the cheek now. Max looks out to the cameraman now, tipping his sunglasses down just a bit to look before talking. "No, do not adjust your sets people, we ARE this good looking. What you are seeing here is perfection in motion. And now, that perfection has made it's way here, to the SWF, and it's about time this place got some REAL talent around here." "You see, I've been looking around at the so-called talent here, and with very few exceptions, there is no one really here that can actually be called a TRUE talent. For the most part, the only people you have here are wrestling school dropouts who couldn't work a decent match if their lives depended on it. But that's where I'M different." Kelly moves her hands into a "revealing" pose, ala one of those Price is Right girls, as Max holds his hands out to his side. "I have all the tools needed to give the SWF something to notice. I am one of the elite few people that has looks, skills, and class. But, I also have generosity. You see, Vince McMahon has called me up for a good 3 years now, each time he begs me to come to his 2-bit federation and give it a severe kick in the ass. However, I saw this league floundering, struggling to stay afloat...struggling to keep the people entertained...and I decided to be nice enough to offer my amazing talents to help boost it." Kelly giggles. "Isn't he the greatest? SWF wrestlers, you better be ready. Because when The Icon starts wrestling here, he's going to out class, out move, and out style ALL of you. That's not just a prediction...that's a fact." Max nods. "Come on Kelly, let's go there. I think that we've given these people enough of a preview for now." With that, Kelly and Max walk back into the locker room, holding each other close as the door locks behind them.