Thoth

“Helllooooooo fans! This is the one and only CYCLONE COOOOOMMMEEEETTTT sitting at the commentary desk with...” Comet stops and looks at his co-commentator. “What?” is Bobby’s simpleton reply. “...” “Oh, right... with Bobby Riley! And we’re bringing you some GREAT wrestling action here tonight!” half-heartedly yells Riley. “Ah no, Robert! You do not seem very interested tonight, is something the matter?” “..wait, what!? You actually believe I’m interested at any of these shows? I’m just here because I’m too lazy to get a real job.” “This is real job,” says Comet. Bobby shakes his head, “Maybe for you, but you’re not the one being driven insane by a spandex-wearing idiot every four, five days.” “Ha! I’ve seen what you wear under that suit, Roberto!” “...how?” queries Riley. “...duh, superhero...” As always, the commentators start to bicker about everything except the upcoming match. However... “HHEEEAAAARRRR ME NNNNOOOOOOWWWWWWWWW!!!!!” ...gives the crowd a clear indication of who is coming out to wrestle first! The lights flicker in a brooding red light as screens at homes around the world become distorted with picture noise. The lights and noise stops as the darkness goes black again... and a spotlight appears in the middle of the stage. Standing amidst the light is Crow, the Antichrist Superstar with his wings spread and head cocked back. The crowd cheers wildly for their beloved superstar. “Hear me now! Words I vow! No fucking regrets!” Crow drops his arms and turns around to face the crowd. A cigarette is as always present, the BUTT resting gently between his lips. He reaches into his pocket, pulls out his zippo and smiles as he slashes the zippo back and forward across his pants. ”Fuck these chains! No god damn slave! I will be different!” The Antichristian Phenomenon lights the cigarette in his mouth and proceeds to stride forward. After his second stride he throws the still lit zippo behind him onto the stage and an eruption of fire goes off! The crowd cheers wildly as the flames rise up to two metres in height! “Just hear this reception for the Antichrist Superstar!” shouts Cyclone. Bobby is clutching at his ears, “No, I really don’t want to! Why, oh WHY, can’t these guys ever pick some good music!?” I'll stand here defiantly! My middle finger raised! Fuck your prejudice! Crow begins to walk down the aisle with a face made of stone - frustration clearly evident. “Citizen Crow hasn’t been flying through the SWF with grace recently, it’s obvious, Bobby, that his injuries have had a rather large affect on his ability to get it done in the ring,” wisdoms Comet. “Well, duh!” mocks Bobby, “Try feuding with a man who is psychotic, one foot taller and one hundred pounds heavier than you... it’s not a recipe for good living.” Riley muses for a moment as Crow strides up the steels steps and enters the ring, “From being forced to watch his matches, I have noticed that he’s lost a certain edge... like, he’s unable to take as much punishment as he used to be able to.” “Hmm, indeed, that is true,” says Comet as he thinks, “I also noticed in his loss to Tom Flesher he lacked a lot of spirit and fire. The tables match would have to be his lowest point since returning... getting eliminated by Spike Jenkins after taking very minimal punishment.” Bobby Riley smirks, “Of course, it’s true, I said it. It would seem that Crow’s body is tired and I wonder how it’ll go against Insane Luchador here tonight.” Crow cocks his head in every direction to gather a sense of his surroundings before walking his way over to his corner. It’s here he smokes and waits... ... “The Gauntlet” kicks up and begins to roar through the arena speakers. Pyrotechnics of an array of colours explode all across the stage as graffiti showers the crowd. “Oh, it must be a special occasion, Robert.” “Of course it is, Comet. It’s a hardcore match... no wait... it’s a GOREcore match!” dryly adds Bobby, “That has to be the cheesiest thing I’ve heard this side of Blind Guardian.” And the Insane Luchador walks out to a huge pop! “Well I had just got back from a break from the fight, I was weighing in heavy but still feeling alright!” ...and gets even bigger pop when he goes back behind the curtain to get his cart of weapons! Oh dear, this is going to be a bloodbath! IL then throws his arms into the air to milk the cheers. After a minute of this, he finally strides down, slapping hands and pushing his cart. He places it next to the ring apron and grabs a singapore cane before rushing into the ring and starting shit with the Gothic Avian! *DING DING DING!* “AND HERE WE GOOOOOOO! This fight of valour and justice is proudly brought to you by the people at Pepsi Max...” Rickmen takes a swing but hits nothing but air as Crow ducks under and swings around to lock on a rear waistlock. IL ain’t gonna let that happen and cocks his head left, following up with a Singapore cane shot to Crow’s head! The bird stumbles back into the ropes, but regains his sense just in time before getting clobbered by a charging madman! Crow bends down and launches IL over the ropes... but no! Rickmen lands on the apron, grabs a hold of his opponent’s head and snaps it across the ropes! The Antichrist Superstar is jettisoned forward, allowing the Insane Luchador to step up onto the rope and fly across the ring with his legs in position! ... ... and he nails Crow with the swan dive dropkick! “Insane Luchador has taken the charge early and completely blown away the Gothic Warrior!” exclaims Cyclone Comet, “If this continues, I don’t see Crow winning this match.” The connection sends Crow spilling over the ropes and to the outside. Insane Luchador milks the crowd for a moment, long enough to allow his opponent to stumble back to his feet, prior to once again showing us his aerial skills. Running, jumping and flipping forwardly over the ropes he flies... ...and straight into the concrete floor! The Antichrist Superstar jumped out of the way just in time! “Ooooh! Well, that wasn’t very impressive for a guy who calls himself insane, and more laughably, a ‘luchador’... ahaha,” “It happens to the most heroic of us all, Robert.” “Ha! I never stuff up, I’m so great!” egotistically shouts Bobby. “...you locked your keys in your car today.” “Shut up!” Crow looks to take advantage of this situation and so, he hastily wrenches IL up and locks an arm. IL crashes back-first into the railing as the bird charges and flips into the air, throwing an arm out to catch him across the neck! “360 degree clothesline!” Both have spilt into the crowd, however, the Gothic Warrior is the first man up and... he feels a little sadistic. Hardcore environment, motherfucker! “Oh dear, looks like Crow is going under the ring the pull out some toys!” shouts Comet. Bobby looks at his co-commentator and mocks, “Not those kind of toys, Comet!” Funnily enough, Crow pulls out the first “toy”... which just happens to be a Cyclone Comet Action Figurine! The crowd cheers loudly, and the cheers become even louder when the Antichrist Superstar begins to play with it... only to ditch it at the fallen Insane Luchador! “...I guess you were right, Bobby,” replies Comet. Crow is more successful when he goes under the ring this time... as he pulls out the weapon he made fucking famous in the SJL... the FUCKING GLASS LIGHT TUBE! He swings it around like a cricket bat as he moves towards his prey. Insane Luchador is standing now and is fully aware of what is coming his way... but he doesn’t care, he simply tells his opponent to... “FUCKING BRING IT!” ...and so, the Antichristian Phenomenon does! He swings back as he charges forward... and SMASHES the light tube into millions of little pieces across Rickmen’s chest! But wait! IL ain’t going down, in fact, he’s fucking standing in the same position... laughing! He’s fucking laughing! “That’s superhero strength!” exclaims Comet, obviously impressed, “Insane Luchador is standing his ground after having a light tube smashed across his chest! Amazing!” Bobby Riley is quick to reply, “But look, he’s laughing! Goddammit, how do these psychos get into this federation!?” IL smugly looks at his opponent as the blood starts to stream down his chest, “There was a time, when you could receive this kind of punishment and still stand. Not anymore though, hey Crow?” Crow gazes into Rickmen’s eyes and sees a challenge. He jumps back into the outside area and grabs another light tube from under the ring. He then walks back into the crowd area... and hands the light tube to Rickmen. “Stick me, you cunt.” Without hesitation, the Insane Luchador reels back the light tube... and brings it forward with devastating velocity! ... *SMASH!* ...the light tube is smashed across the bear stomach of the Antichrist Superstar! The connection causes Crow to grunt loudly and clutch at his stomach! He stumbles backwards and looks down at his stomach... pieces of glass protrude from within his skin. “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh!” he cries before falling to his knees on the outside! The crowd has reached is in a state of confusion - a mix of cheers and boos fill the arena. The Insane Luchador stands tall over his opponent... and looks down. “You’re weak,” states IL. Crow stops clutching at his stomach and stares up at Rickmen. “That’s right, you weak son of a bitch. Get the fuck up!” shouts the Insane Luchador as he grabs a bunch of Crow’s hair and wrenches him back to his feet. Following this, he grabs a hold of Crow’s head with his other hand, gets a run up and launches Crow into the sea of people! You have never seen people scatter so quickly... and this of course, makes for a much more awkward and brutal landing for the Gothic Warrior! His body is wrecked upon the sea of empty steel chairs! Insane Luchador walks over to Crow and picks up a chair... he raises it up into the chair and brings it down! ... NO! Crow rolls out of the way! *CRACK!* is the sound of steel chair hitting the concrete on the outside. IL feels the shimmer throughout his body and drops the chair, thusly allowing the Antichrist Superstar a moment of advantage. Crow jumps up onto his feet and spins around... ...nailing DAS WUNDER KICK! Rickmen is sent flying back into the guardrail! Crow rushes forward and spears Rickmen over the railing and into the outside area! It’s time for some more violence! The Antichrist Superstar pulls out a table from under the ring and tries to set it up, but out of nowhere, is booted in the stomach by a lighting fast Luchador. Rickmen grabs hold of Crow’s head and slams it intro the table! He does it again! And again! And again! Repeat ad-nauseam until the Insane Luchador applies a front face lock and DDTs his opponent into the thinly-padded floor. “You thought that WEAK Wunder Kick was gonna put me down, Crow?” mocks Rickmen. IL leans over the railing and asks a fan for a chair. Of course, he gets one from an eager fanatic, but instead of saying “Thank you!” he turns around and starts unleashing a barrage of sickening chair shots to Crow’s stomach and back! *CRACK!* *CRACK!* *CRACK!* *CRACK!* *CRACK!* “When will you realise that you are a shadow of what you used to be.” He throws the chair on the ground and wrenches his opponent onto the table. Have a chop to the chop for good measure, Crow! The Gothic Warrior is dazed and tries to regain some sense as Rickmen runs over to the cart he brought to ringside earlier and shuffles around for a quality weapon. ... He’s pulled out the big guns. Five. Fucking. Light Tubes. “Oh yes! More light tubes! Maybe this match will finally get interesting,” gleefully says Bobby. “This doesn’t bode well for Citizen Crow and I’d advised him to gather all his superhero powers to stand up and fly away,” Comet commentates, “However, in this state, I think only a true superhero like myself has such an ability.” Cyclone Comet is correct, Crow can’t fly away and is only now starting to realise what’s going on. Insane Luchador holds the light tubes up in the air to a huge pop from the crowd, jumps up onto the apron and walks over until he is parallel with table. Crow’s eyes widen as Rickmen lifts one light tube into the air and jumps off the apron! IL brings the light tube down as he falls and SMASHES IT ACROSS THE ANTICHRISTIAN PHENOMENON’S CHEST! ... He doesn’t stop there as he jumps back up onto the apron, grabs another light tube... AND DOES THE SAME FUCKING THING! ... AND AGAIN! “Goodness me! This is terrifying, Citizen Crow has glass shards sticking, literally STICKING out of his stomach!” cries Comet, seeing the valour disappear in the Gothic Warrior. “Ahahahahaha! This is sensational stuff, Comet!” evilly laughs Robert. Two lights tubes remain... and the Insane Luchador has the perfect use for them. Firstly, he moves the table into an appropriate position, parallel to the ring apron. Room is necessary. Secondly, he places the light tubes across his weakened opponent’s stomach and picks up the chair he threw on the floor earlier. “This is the end for you. It’s sad, I used to respect you for never, ever giving up and having a huge masochist streak. Oh well, I guess you are a pussy.” After verbally insulting the Antichrist Superstar, IL steps up onto the apron and jumps onto the top rope. Bunching his legs, he presses the chair against his stomach and springboards off – flipping backwards two-hundred-and-seventy-degrees! .. . THE INSANE LUCHADOR CRUSHES THE TUBES WITH THE CHAIR AS HE CONNECTS WITH AN ASAI MOONSAULT THAT BREAKS THE TABLE AND CROW IN HALF! “HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!” “It’s wreckage! Absolute wreckage! Citizen Crow is not getting up from that!” yells Comet. “Well...” Bobby Riley begins, “This has been a whitewash, hasn’t it? Insane Luchador has completely dominated Crow, and I remember back in the SJL when Crow stomped all over IL in a match. This just goes to show, as I said, Crow has lost the edge and does not belong in the ring anymore.” The momentum of the move has caused the Insane Luchador to roll off of the Antichrist Superstar and so, he doesn’t get the pin automatically. Instead, he opts to clutch at his stomach and attempt to decrease the pain for a minute... wouldn’t you? I mean, come on, Crow is done for! Eventually, Rickmen drapes himself over his opponent... ONE! . .. ... TWO! . .. ... .. . THHHHHHRRRNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! The crowd erupts in a frenzy of cheers as the Antichristian Phenomenon, Crow, KICKS OUT AFTER TAKING A HHHUUUGEEEE MOVE! RICKMEN CAN’T BELIEVE IT AND TRIES TO PIN CROW AGAIN! NOO! IT’S NOT GONNA HAPPEN! He tries again and again! But no! Not happening, son! Insane Luchador swears loudly as he struggles to keep pinning, but every time, Crow kicks out! “...I’m not a pussy, you fucking cunt!” shouts the Antichrist Superstar. Insane Luchador stands up, looks down at the already rising Crow, and realises that he is in a world of FUCKING SHIT. Rushing to a certain section of the ring, he reaches and under and pulls out the really big fucking gun – A GLASS TUBE COVERED TABLE! He quickly sets it up close to a corner of the ring, turns around and rushes back to where Crow was lying. ... However, when Rickmen gets there... he notices that Crow... is not lying there anymore! Confused, he looks around. He’s not around. Where is he? “Has Crow used his superhero powers to disappear?” asks Comet. “No, he hasn’t. See, there he is... standing right behind IL with a pane of glass.... hey, what!? He’s got a pane of glass!” Crow was hiding under the ring and came out when the opportune moment presented itself... he’s not behind the Insane Luchador and is ready to take him out. “Hey Andrew,” says Crow, prompting IL to turn around, “...I still have my fucking masochist streak!” Upon completing his sentence, the Antichristian Phenomenon lifts the pane in the air... AND SMASHES IT DOWN ON RICKMEN’S HEAD! “Robert, Citizen Crow just showed this Insane Luchador what the true meaning of valour is!” “No, he didn’t... he just broke a goddamn window over the guy’s head,” teases Riley. Insane Luchador falls onto his knees and clutches at his head... “You used to be able to take this!” shouts Crow as he kicks IL in the face prior to wrenching him up and rolling him into the ring. On the inside, Crow lifts Rickmen up and shouts “I am not weak!” while he unleashes a flurry of punches and kicks upon the Insane Luchador. Crow whips his opponent into the ropes and waits for him to come back. IL comes back and feels the force of a devastating Wunder Kick to the stomach! He’s doubled over and Crow applies a front face lock, grabs the pants and heaves him up – prepped for the Natural Born Chaos! ... .. . NNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! INSANE LUCHADOR FLIPS OUT THE MOVE AND LANDS BEHIND! He quickly applies a rear waistlock and drives Crow towards the ropes, in an effort to roll back into a reverse pin... but the bird grabs the top rope! He turns around and charges forward, nailing a low dropkick to Rickmen’s face! The shot sends blood flying off the Insane Luchador’s head, but he gets up almost immediately... only to be whipped into the corner that just happens to be dangerously close to the glass light tube covered table on the outside! The force of the whip causes Rickmen to flip into the turnbuckles and end up on the apron outside! He’s stunned as to where he is! Crow rushes over to IL and starts unleashing the fury of his punches! Cyclone Comet is watching intently, “Citizen Rickmen is dangerously close to falling back onto that table!” No! Crow pulls him back to the ropes and smashes his head against the turnbuckle. The Gothic Warrior now, decides to take action... ...he applies a strong front face lock and ascends to the top rope. Sitting on the turnbuckle, facing towards the outside, Crow musters all of his left over strength and heaves the Insane Luchador into the air! Rickmen is upside vertical in the air and kicks his legs wildly as Crow somehow manages to step up on the top ropes... and says... “I am NOT a shadow of my former self... I am the same man. I am the motherfucking Antichrist Superstar.” ... .. . HE THEN JUMPS INTO THE AIR AND FALLS BACK, DRIVING HIMSELF AND INSANE LUCHADOR’S HEAD THROUGH THE GLASS LIGHT TUBE COVERED TABLE AND INTO THE COLD, MOTHERFUCKING FLOOR! “HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!” “Oh my goodness, Robert! Crow has just defeated both himself and Insane Luchador at the same time! What a move! Justice! JUSTICE! JUSTICE!” screams Cyclone Comet at the top of his lungs. He’s up on the commentary table now. Bobby Riley is shaking his head, “Gah! Terrible move! Now there’s going to be no winner... they’re both dead!” For a moment, the referee thinks that might just be the case and checks on both men. ... .. . CROW’S ALIVE! And with his last ounce of strength, after being humiliated, insulted and fucking battered, he lifts his arm into the air and places it over the chest of the Insane Luchador Andrew Rickmen. The referee jumps onto the floor... ONE! . .. ... TWO! . .. ... .. . TTTTHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! *DING DING DING!* “And your winner... as a result of pinfall.... THE ANTICHRIST SUPERSTAR, CRRRROOOOOOWWWWW!” The crowd erupts with cheers as the medical team rushes down to the wreckage by ringside. It’s a mess. Cyclone Comet claps, “Oh, what a performance. Crow ended up serving Insane Luchador the dish he so rudely ordered! The dish of justice!” “...” Bobby tries to find the words, “...that has to be the worst analogy EVER.” “Delivered promptly, while piping hot and with a side of glass shards, Robert,” adds Comet. The medical team slowly pulls the Antichristian Phenomenon out of the wreckage, but he pushes them off and gets up himself, albeit struggling and clutching his wounds. “Sigh...” Bobby groans, “Nevertheless, I must say that Crow did ‘serve’ it up to Insane Luchador at the end there. Andrew Rickmen threw down the challenge near the beginning with the glass light tubes and promptly took control of the match... but Crow took the moves IL gave him and then fought back! He took the gauntlet and threw it back at Rickmen, so to speak. I said during the match that he doesn’t belong in a wrestling ring anymore because he’s lost the edge... but now, I think he’s regained it.” Crow pulls a cigarette out of the deck that was just thrown at him and lights it. Nothing better. “Indeed, well that just about wraps it up for this match, but stay tuned, as there is more wrestling coming your way, including Nathaniel Kibagami versus the SWF World Champion Danny Williams! Keep watching!” says Comet as the screen fades to commercials on the image of Crow walking up the aisle, smoking a cigarette... and standing victorious.

It's Friday night. It's live. It's Storm! And it seems Commissioner Zenon is feeling in a patriotic mood tonight, as rather than the typical 'flash, bang, boom!' pyrotechnical opening to the show, ring announcer Funyon is in the ring. Equally likely, Zenon forgot to get the fireworks. Either way Funyon is ready to kick the show off with his own sort of bang...which is probably cheaper than the fireworks anyway. So it's all good. "Ladies and gentlemen..." Funyon's voice booms in it's typical manner. "...would you please rise for the playing of our National Anthem!" "Dirty Dog I'm, I'm a dirty dog I'm a dirty dog I'm, I'm a dirty dog Dirty Dog I'm a dirty dog Dirty Dog" "Err...last time I checked, this wasn't our National Anthem." mumbles Cyclone Comet, who has had the sense to take his hand away from his heart and sit back down at the announce desk. "I told you MTV was a bad idea." tuts Riley, who had sat down the moment the camera stopped pointing at him. Confusion fills the rest of the arena, with those who had just risen to their feet either sitting back down, or remaining standing to throw their abuse at the man who emerges from behind the curtain moments later...who unsurprisingly is Landon 'La Cucaracha' Maddix, complete with his newly acquired USJL Championship belt around his waist...and his hands behind his back. Megan Skye emerges behind moments later, but keeps out of the grinning Maddix's way, as he takes his right arm from behind his back, revealing... ...a title belt!?! Confusion again takes over the crowd, as Landon brings his left arm from behind his back... ...to reveal a third title belt!?! "What the...blazes?" Comet mumbles, still shocked over the interruption. "Are those the..." "SJL European and World Titles belts?" Riley cooly asks, as if he knows something everyone else doesn't. "Why, I do believe they are." "Why the hell has he got them?" "You'll see..." Landon strolls to the ring, as if there were nothing remotely odd about him suddenly having three title belts, while the fans boo him mercilessly as ever. The boos don't show any signs of dying down, as Landon and Megan reach the apron where Landon throws in his two handheld belts, and hops onto the apron before helping up Megan and opening up the ropes for her. Quickly he enters in after, the huge-ass grin on his face growing wider and wider by the second seemingly, as he takes the two belts again and raises them in the air, which gets a bunch more jeers. Funyon is still standing in the center of the ring meanwhile, dumbfounded at the interruption's timing and that his moment in the spotlight has been ruined. Or maybe not, as Landon walks over to him and reaches into his jeans' pocket, passing Funyon a card. Funyon gives him an odd look, but is encouraged to speak by both Landon and Megan...and with nothing else to do, he shrugs and looks at the card. "Ladies and gentlemen...please welcome the SWF USJL... ...Triple Crown Champion!?!" Landon nods to Funyon who seems a little confused, but carries on regardless, as Landon breaks into a pose that shows all three of his belts off. "...LANDON...'LA CUCARACHA'...MAAAAADDIIIXXX!!!" "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" With his introduction taken care of, Landon doesn't need Funyon around, so grabs the microphone off him and basically tells him to hit the road, which he promptly does. By now, "Lapdance" has died down which allows Landon to raise the microphone, ready to address the crowd... "LANDON SUCKS! LANDON SUCKS! LANDON SUCKS!" ...who clearly do not wish to be addressed. Still, Landon is nothing if not determined, and waits for the chants to calm down before continuing. "Thank you." Landon sighs, with much sarcasm. "It seems no matter how much my luck changes...the lack of respect from you ingrate fans will remain the same. But that doesn't bother me anymore. So you might as well save your breath booing me." "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" ".....Fine, whatever. I'm not out here to listen to your 'opinions' of me, because believe it or not I have more important things to worry about than that. Incase you hadn't noticed, I finally have SWF gold. It took a few months, sure. But like the saying goes...all good things come to those who wait. I survived losing to Sacred. I survived Wildchild beating me. I survived him and Johnny Dangerous beating me and Todd. I survived Charlie Matthews defeating me in my first World Title shot. But that's all in the past, because now I am FINALLY the SWF USJL Champion. Oh, and incase you hadn't noticed..." Landon smiles smugly, before looking at both of the JL belts in his hands. "...I seem to have a couple more belts than the average champion around here. Call me crazy, but I decided that after all I've been through to finally call myself a champion, I deserved more than just the one piece of gold. And seeing as I actually OWN the JL European and World Title belts that you can see me modelling...I thought, 'Hey, why not.' Just like when I saw Funy over there about to sing the national anthem. I thought about coming out here, and realised 'Hey, why not. After all, I'm the USJL Champion.' Seeing as I own these two belts, it's only natural that I should show them off. Of course, I wasn't going to do that until I had this third belt to complete the set. Now that 'Oy' Coy West finally stepped aside and let someone with a...as he would say...'bootlick' of talent take the belts, I've dusted off these belts. For those of you out there with short memories. Or, judging from the looks of you, half a brain." "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" "He has a point." Riley agrees. "Look at that one over there. While God was handing out brains, she must have been busy raising her inbred children...or something." "For those of you..." Landon continues. "...I remind you that I was the last ever SJL World Champion. Not to mention the last ever SJL European Champion. And of course, once that company was thrown into the ground and covered over in metaphorical dirt, the executives of the company said to be that I deserved the belts more than anyone else, and that I should keep them...as a momento. Now I thought about selling them on e-Bay, make a little cash. But then I realised that these babies would come in handy someday. And sure enough, they have. Right now, you are looking at the USJL Triple Crown Champion. You know...Japan has Kawada and Muto and Vader, who they stole from us. But as the American Triple Crown Champion, you've got ME! That's not the best bit though. Unless somebody decides to give me ten thousand dollars for each of these here belts, I'm going to be the ONLY USJL Triple Crown Champion. I own two of these belts. The third one, I just plain deserve to have..." Suddenly, Landon is cut off in mid speech, as the lights suddenly snap off leaving the arena shrouded in darkness. The crowd do their usual 'Oh my, the lights have gone out, let's scream' bit...which lasts until the SmarkTron suddenly lights up with just one message on it... "2 - 2" ...before that cuts, and the lights begin to come back on. Landon however isn't waiting around to continue his speech, and is hurriedly scurrying up the rampway, dragging Megan Skye behind him by the wrist as he goes. "An abrupt ending...wow, God really does like me." Comet chuckles. "Don't jest about things like that. Poor Landon, our USJL Triple Crown winner...the man who makes Jumbo Tsuruta look like David Blazenwing, the man who makes Stan Hansen look like Spike Jenkins...he comes out here to celebrate his hard fought victory, and to proclaim himself the US's Triple Crown champion. And someone decides to interrupt him... ...and by the way, it's Todd, not God." "Well, all I'll say is give me Keiji Muto over Landon Maddix any day." "Fine...but don't blame me when the guy spits his beer in your eyes...COMMERCIAL!"

SWF Lockdown Wednesday May 5th! Venue:Richmond Coliseum in Virginia! Due Date: 7 PM EST. Send promos, marked matches, booking requests, etc, to: 5_moves_of_doom. MAIN EVENT SWF CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH Danny Williams vs John Duran Danny has been patient, and now he faces the new world champion. Nothing else to it. Just raw energy and power. Rules: Standard match, DQ and Counout apply. Word Limit: 6000 Send to: realitycheck Todd Cortez vs Nathaniel Kibagami Kibagami made some boasts about being the next world champion. He’ll face Todd Cortez, who may be a diamond in the rough. Rules: Standard match, DQ and Counout apply. Word Limit: 5500 Send to: Thoth OFFICE BRAWL #1 CONTENDERSHIP TO THE USJL TITLE Landon Maddix vs Austin Sly vs Stryke vs Insane Luchador vs Jacob Helmsley We need to shuffle some papers. So here is what will be done. These guys will be in the SWF offices, and stacks of paper will be present. If you are put through a stack of paper, you are eliminated. Winner gets a shot at Coy and his USJL belt. Rules: See description. No DQ. Word Limit: 5500 Send to: chirs3 Ann Onita vs Dace Night Ann’s sister deserted her for another man. Distraught, she looks to take out FEMININE RAGE on Dace Night. Rules: Standard match, DQ and Counout apply. Word Limit: 4500 Send to: Thoth HARDCORE CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH Jimmy Liston vs Mike Van Siclen They’re gonna bleed! Rules: Do what now? Word Limit: 4000 Send to: Suicide King Alan Clark & Coy West vs Janus & Aecas Crazy tag partners that can’t get along! The Trinity is no more, but these two have the belts. The match is non-title. What... could... possibly... happen?! Rules: Standard match, DQ and Counout apply. Word Limit: 4000 Send to: Grand Slam Crow vs Tom Flesher Tom’s got a new bitch. Crow has a bitch, I think, but I can’t remember. Maybe she’s dead. Or not. I dunno. Crow does a lot of drugs. Rules: Standard match, DQ and Counout apply. Word Limit: 4000 Send to: 5_moves_of_doom Spike Jenkins vs Tryst THEY TOOK OUR JOBS Rules: Standard match, DQ and Counout apply. Word Limit: 3500 Send to: Suicide King

Bitch that's what you GET for ripping off the Clan. Nah, just kidding. Trinity was a good thing.

I changed it to chirs3 so nyah. It's elimination rules. And damn you for adding tags, Zed. I was happy beating the system.

The arena is quiet, and the fans are starting to wonder when Funyon is going to enter the ring and thank them for coming. However, just as things have been silent for one moment too long… BOOM! An explosion of blue smoke and pyro lights up the arena as the opening rhythms of “Kashmir” echo over the crowd. The fans immediately begin booing as the lyrics begin. “This is quite possibly the last thing I need right now,” says Cyclone Comet with a groan. “This has been a stressful night already, and now we have to see…” “Tom Flesher,” beams Bobby Riley, “and Allison Onita!” Sure enough, the curtain blows to the side, and Tom Flesher walks through. Following at his side, half a step behind, is Allison Onita. Flesher wears his standard blazer, dark jeans and blue open-collar shirt, while Allison is dressed less modestly in a low-cut black top and a stylish navy suit. He has a cigarette in his mouth, and as the smoke from the explosion clears, he finishes lighting it and takes a drag. With a smirk, he takes a microphone from the commentary table, and the music fades. “Well, well, well,” he says, smarm absolutely dripping from his voice. “It’s so nice to be back here in Chapel Hill. I’m happy to see each and every one of you here, so excited to see the aftermath of Battleground… and I know who you’ve been waiting to see all… night… long.” As the fans boo, Riley can be seen wiping a tear from his eye. “It’s so nice to see him back to his old self,” he whispers. “I know some of you are wondering what, exactly, went down at Battleground. You’re wondering why Allison did what she did…” The fans boo. “… what effect that had on the match…” Louder booing. “… and, most of all, just how long Allison and I have been planning this. The fact is…” As Flesher tries to start his new thought, the fans drown him out with their booing. Soon enough, a chant breaks out. “YOU SUCK COCK! YOU SUCK COCK!” Allison grins and looks at the floor. Flesher takes a drag on his cigarette and, with a sly grin, blows a cloud of smoke above his head. Calmly, he continues, “You’re damn right she does… because the fact is that as long as Ann Onita’s been trying to sneak this little minx around the back, she’s been stopping into the back room at night. It took a while… because, as we all know, Allison has never been quite the same since her stint with the Clan. It took a while for things to develop. But she knows now… Oh, she knows that I would never, ever, ever treat her as badly as he did.” He smirks, takes another hit, and blows out another cloud of smoke. “I’m not just another charismatic man who makes Allison Onita swoon. Oh no,” Flesher says with a grin. “This? This is real.” The fans boo louder and louder, the “YOU SUCK DICK” chant continuing, and the picture fades. === SWF Storm, April 30, 2004. © Noble Gas Television. All rights reserved. The Smarks Wrestling Federation: “Raising workrate by typing faster.”

SWF STORM NOW! BOOM! BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM! The thunderous sounds of the opening fireworks to introduce SWF Storm get the crowd on their feet and cheering loudly, as the fallout from SWF Battleground begins! “Welcome everyone to SWF Storm!” says Cyclone Comet, introducing himself and his partner. “This past Sunday we were treated to a great event in SWF Battleground, and tonight is the night that we find out where we go from here!” “The most important thing is, Comet,” Bobby Riley begins, “that we have a NEW SWF World Heavyweight Champion!” “And that is ‘The Notorious’ John Duran, who defeated Charlie Matthews in an absolutely hellacious match at Battleground! Duran has been given some time to recover, but--“ NO~ NO~ NOTORIOUS! Ironically, Spineshank’s “Synthetic” interrupts Comet and the man the superhero was just referring to immediately makes his entrance, coming through the curtain as the fans rise to their feet and assault the Notorious One with boos! The new SWF World Heavyweight Champion is wearing his title belt proudly over his shoulder, resting on his “SIN TO WIN” t-shirt. “Speaking of the champion, Citizen Duran is on his way to the ring right now!” “That’s World Champion Duran to you, Comet!” John is not in tights, instead opting for the blue jeans as he continues down the aisle, receiving plenty of middle fingers from the angry fans, their hero having fallen just a few days ago to the Blunt Force Trauma. Duran steps up onto the apron and then goes through the ropes, going over to the other side of the ring and requesting a microphone, getting one and then turning towards the center of the ring. “Ladies and gentlemen,” Duran begins, mocking Funyon, “I present to you the new S-W-F World Heavyweight Champion!” “BOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “And I suggest all of you get used to it!” More boos from the crowd, as such an event seems unlikely at this point. “These fans don’t appreciate the heart that Duran put into his match with Charlie Matthews,” says Riley with anger towards the disrespect. “And Duran did win the match without any of his Notorious Tactics™, but the fact of the matter is that the fans just despise John Duran with every inch of their being!” Duran continues. “Just over a year ago today, I faced Charlie Matthews, David Blazenwing, and Leo Breslin in a four-way elimination match for the S-J-L Television Title.” There are small cheers at the reference of the somewhat popular minor league institution, as Duran moves on. “Today, I stand before you not a man who has just been defeated for the Television Title, but a man who has won the SWF World Title on the biggest stage of them all!” “And, indeed, against the biggest opponent of them all. I was considered the underdog going into my match at SWF Battleground, and understandably so: If I had beaten a guy so many times without him beating me, I’d consider them an underdog too!” “Unfortunately, the favorite in that match is now NOT here tonight!” The crowd explodes into boos, and Duran just smiles. “John is absolutely right,” Comet confirms, “Charlie Matthews suffered some injuries after the Battleground match with Duran and is not expected to be back for quite some time!” “Good riddance,” Riley snarls. “But I’m here, and all I have to say is this: It is true, I cannot hide from the fact that I have lost matches in the past. I have lost plenty, I have won plenty. But now? Now I am at the top of my game!” “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “Duran certainly is the head honcho,” says Comet. “And right now, there’s not a man in the S-W-F who can beat me!” Duran’s words are swallowed whole by the amazing amount of boos that are being thrown at the champion, who continues to smile, looking very cool and cocky with the shiny gold SWF World Title around his waist. “Duran speaks the truth,” Riley confirms, “he has risen over all to the top of the mountain, and there’s no one that will take him down!” Suddenly, fog begins to billow on the entrance. Some fans are already freaking out as the SmarkTron crackles with static, those sounds joining the opening notes of Nevermore’s “The River Dragon Has Come.” When the song’s sound changes… BAM! …the Dean Smith Center fills with a bright white light! The fans explode, cheering already even though they wouldn’t be able to see their own hand in front of them right now, let alone the man about to make his appearance. The burning ankh comes through the white light… Today, the warning came in the flood… The vocals begin, and the lights are reduced to a normal level…as Nathaniel Kibagami steps out through the curtain and the thick fog! “RAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” The crowd’s reaction speaks volumes, just as loud as their negative reaction towards Duran. In the ring, meanwhile, Duran’s grin has faded and has been replaced with a stone face. He doesn’t show it, but down deep, Duran likely recognizes that he bit off more than he can chew with his comments. “It’s the River Dragon!” Comet recognizes the man who scored a victory over Alex Zenon at Battleground. “Fresh off a battle where he ASSAULTED our interim commissioner!” Riley spits with contempt. The Silent One briskly walks down to the ring, ignoring the fans’ outstretched hands, wanting to touch The Slaughterer, up close and personal in Chapel Hill, North Carolina. The music surges forward as Kibagami slides into the ring, rolling to his feet and walking towards the nearest turnbuckle, seemingly ignoring Duran in the center of the ring--for the time being. Nathaniel stands on the turnbuckles, holding his arms out in the crucifix position. The song begins to die down, and Kibagami hops off the top rope, turning to Duran finally as the crowd’s cheers continue. SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT... SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT... The cuts along his forehead and the bruises on his face are far from healed, but the fire behind the Slaughterer’s eyes still burns – he’s clearly incensed by something, and he’s about to let John Duran know what it is. “Did I just hear you right? I couldn’t have heard you right.” Kibagami does not take a step towards the champion; he doesn’t need to. “I thought I heard you say, ‘there’s not a man in the S-W-F that can beat me’. And that...that would be the worst thing that could’ve come out of your mouth tonight.” Kibagami takes two steps back and leans against the turnbuckles, seemingly unconcerned with Duran’s presence, coolly indifferent to the chanting of the fans. “I’ve lost more matches than you’ll ever win, Duran, but the fact remains that there isn’t a man alive today I can’t best in the ring. I spent seven LONG months in rehab before I returned for Battleground --“ SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT... SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT... “ – and I proved to everybody in New Mexico and everybody watching at home that I am still the Slaughterer, still the Silent One, still the man that put the fear of God in the Midnight Carnival, still the man that bested Edwin MacPhisto!” Kibagami eases out of the corner and slowly approaches John Duran – the champion carefully maintains a poker face as the River Dragon advances. “I have been in this business for fourteen years, and the John Durans of the world affect me about as deeply as the Randy Turners do.” Duran flinches at the mention of his deceased friend, but he does not back away as Nathaniel comes face to face with him. SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT... SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT... Kibagami looks at the World title slung over Duran’s shoulder; he taps it gently. “You enjoy yourself today, Duran. You wrestled a good match at Battleground, and you deserve this title. For now.” The Silent One backs away slowly, towards the ropes. “But remember this: nobody can stay champion forever.” Kibagami flashes that eerie smile that has given pause to so many. “And you’ll lose that belt sooner rather than later if you ask for challenges you aren’t ready to accept.” The River Dragon drops the microphone, but remains in Duran’s face for a few extra moments, looking intensely into the champion’s eyes. Duran refuses to show emotion, though, and Nathaniel turns away, “The River Dragon Has Come” playing again as the Silent One leaves the ring. “An unexpected appearance from Nathaniel Kibagami to start off the show,” Comet summarizes. “Unexpected and unwelcome!” Riley adds. “If this is a sign of things to come, Robert, the rest of tonight’s show could be very interesting!” “It can’t get much worse than this show of disrespect towards the champion!” Kibagami has already briskly walked up the ramp, heading through the curtain as Duran clenches his fist, trying to keep his emotions to himself as we fade to commercials.

*knock-knock* Alexander Zenon looks up from his desk, away from the contracts, touring schedules and the lavish expense claims of Austin Sly. The interim SWF Commissioner sits back in his chair, wincing at the pain that shoots through him, and gestures to the seat opposite. “Sit down.” A title belt lands on the mass of paperwork, the words “Intercontinental-Television Champion” clearly visible on the silvery surface. Zenon sighs - the work had been very boring, but he’ll have lost his place now - and glances over at the man sitting in the chair opposite. “Did you want something?” Toxxic stares back at the Commissioner, noting the bruises, the barely-healed cuts - and most noticeable of all, the difference in the eyes. On Zenon’s first day of work the man had been eager and confident, almost cocky, to the point of very nearly shrugging off a thinly veiled threat from Terrence Bailey. After a week or so Zenon’s manner had changed completely, to the point where he had completely lost his temper with Anne Onita, one of his oldest friends, or so the straight-edger had heard. And everyone had seen the look in Alexander Zenon’s eyes when he had come out to attack Nathaniel Kibagami after callously unleashing Janus on him. But now the former ‘Littlest Carnie’ looks... tired. Empty. Beaten “You look worse than I do,” Toxxic comments, absent-mindedly rubbing the blue plastic of his neck brace. Zenon’s face contorts into what might have been a smile, if the smiler had been sucking lemons. “I’m hoping you had a better reason to disturb me than to toss insults my way,” he growls. “Otherwise I might just misplace that note saying you can’t wrestle for two weeks.” Zenon leans forward, placing both hands on the desk. “But don’t tell me, let me guess; you want revenge on the man who put you in that?” he asks, pointing at the neck brace. “No.” “No?” “You heard me,” the Straight-Edge Sensation replies. “If I could shake my head, I’d be shakin’ it. So Aecas put me in this; big up for the Freak of the Opera. No, I wanna stay as far away from him as possible.” “Why’s that?” Zenon asks, his curiosity momentarily piqued. “You beat him before.” “Yeah, I beat him before,” Toxxic confirms. “I made that bastard bleed at From The Fire, and I took his damn Hardcore Gamer’s Title off him. But the thing is, when you fight the Trinity you don’t just fight one of ‘em. Sure, I can beat Aecas. Yeah, I can beat Dace Night. I’m pretty damn sure I can beat Janus if I get a match that don’t involve me haulin’ his three-hundred-and-whatever-pound carcass around the bloody ring - but what I can’t do is take on Aecas one show, then Dace the next, then Janus the show after that, then two of ‘em together in a tag match... you just can’t do it.” The straight-edger slumps backwards. Now his eyes, normally burning with barely-controlled anger, almost mirror those of the man facing him across the table. “I’m tired, Zenon,” Toxxic says, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’ve been on every damn show since I joined this company, and it’s taken me less than three months to end up in hospital. And now...” “Look, if you’re saying you want a reduced schedule-” Zenon begins, a sneer starting to crawl over his face. “No!” Toxxic snaps, sitting bolt upright in his chair again. “This is what I do. And I’m not gonna let Aecas stop me, I’m not gonna let you stop me, and I’m not gonna let me stop me.” He slumps back again, the momentary anger fading. “But I’m tired, of...” “Of?” Zenon prompts, still trying to figure out why the straight-edger is in his office. “This whole bloody circus!” Toxxic replies, his natural state of irritation surfacing again. “We’re grown men - and Annie - who fight each other for a living! And people can talk about mutual respect and crap like that but when it comes right down to it our job consists of beating the shit out of each other, and that ain’t exactly a good basis for workplace relations.” He gestures vaguely. “Case in point, Battleground. Aecas is knocking seven kinds of crap out of me in the ring, and I’ve got my supposed tag team partner Liston on the outside, pinning Mike Van Siclen for my HGC belt. Partnerships and teams, they only work as long as there’s a goal for both men to aim at. After that, forget about it, you’ve been left to get dropped on your head by a bleedin’ psychopath.” “OK, I’m getting lost now,” Zenon admits. “You want a match against Liston for the Hardcore belt?” “Nope,” Toxxic replies, shaking his head. “I never wanted the damn thing in the first place, but Stevens booked the match and I always give the matches everything.” He looks up at Zenon, and the two men make direct eye contact for the first time. “I’m tired of this shit. I’m tired of trying to ice-skate uphill. I can’t trust anyone else, ‘cos they’ll just stab me in the back when it suits ‘em. I can’t trust you either - but I reckon I can trust you more then them.” “What are you saying?” Alex asks, completely taken aback by this statement from a man whom he considered an arrogant asshole. “You had a match at Battleground,” Toxxic says, apparently ignoring the question. “Against Kibagami. And we all saw how it went.” “Get to the point,” Zenon tells him, eyes narrowing. “You couldn’t beat him,” Toxxic points out bluntly. “You’ve never been able to beat him, but even when Alan Clark the Psycho Hippy, me, and the damn Hell Machine had all softened him up for you, you still couldn’t get the job done.” He spreads his hands. “I could beat him. I have beaten him. I can beat him again. I don’t give a shit about anyone else in that locker room, ‘cos I know I can’t trust a single one of ‘em.” The straight-edger points at Alex. “You want someone taken out, do us all a favour and don’t make us watch you try it yourself. Get me to do it. I don’t care who I face or how I face ‘em. All I want is to wrestle the best - and beat them, until everyone knows that I am the best.” Alex sits back and stares at the man sitting across the desk from him. Then he looks down at the silvery mass of the ICTV Title sitting on the desk in front of him. Then he looks back up at Toxxic, a question on his lips. “And why have you changed your tune so suddenly?” Zenon asks. “Last I remember, you were storming out of this office cursing me for not listening to you.” The right side of Toxxic’s face creases up in a grin - but there is no humour there. “You booked a match; Kibagami vs Terrence Bailey,” the Straight-Edge Sensation says quietly. “You deliberately unleashed the evil, psychopathic side of the biggest man in this federation simply because it would help your little crusade. I don’t know how much you know about Janus, Zenon, but from all I’ve heard and all I’ve seen he is at least as dangerous as Silent ever was.” Toxxic pauses for a moment to let that statement sink in, then continues. “I don’t know what Mark Stevens will think of your actions when he comes back, and I don’t care; he and I didn’t get on anyway. But if there’s the choice of working with someone who will set Janus loose, or possibly getting hit by the collateral damage... well, I know where I’d want to stand.” The grin sneaks up a little further. “Besides, it might just be that you need someone to clean up your mess.” Alex continues to stare at the straight-edger for a moment, then his gaze returns again to the ICTV belt. Abruptly the Commissioner appears to make a decision, picks up the belt and drops it in Toxxic lap. “I’ll think about it.” “You do that,” Toxxic tells him, slinging his belt over one shoulder and making for the door. “As long as you remember, Zenon; if you ever end up stabbin’ me in the back... well, you won’t need to worry about what Grand Slam is gonna say.” With one last humourless smirk the Brit walks out of the office, closing the door behind him. Zenon stares after him for a second, then turns back to his desk and starts sorting through the papers once more. “I’m not worried about what Mark is going to say,” he tells Austin Sly’s expense account angrily.

“Hey, Mike…” Our camera fades in on the In Crowd locker room, where Mike Van Siclen sits, unwrapping black tape from around his wrist. He looks up to see his tag partner, Todd Cortez, entering the room with a subdued look on his face. Van Siclen quickly runs a hand through his hair, pushing the thick, sweaty black-and-red mane out of his eyes and looking at the Urban Legend. “Hey, Todd,” Mike says. “What’s going on?” Todd takes a seat on the bench next to the Spectacle, whose breathing is heavy, with no shirt on, merely his long black wrestling tights. Cortez speaks once more. “Way to pound on Liston out there.” “Heh, thanks,” Mike says, unusually subdued. “Pity it was non-title, though… let’s see if that interim guy can be a bit kinder to me on Lockdown.” “Good luck with that,” Todd says. “Mike… about the whole In Crowd thing.” “Yeah?” “I don’t really think that I’m a very accurate representation of what the ‘In Crowd’ would be. I don’t have good looks, and I’m not the smartest guy in the bunch – I’m a fighter. I’m not ‘in’.” Van Siclen eyes Todd carefully, eyeing him up and down. “So you don’t want to be the In Crowd anymore.” “No, I don’t.” Van Siclen gets to his feet, walking away from Todd, a bit of anger obviously in his movement as her turns back around on Cortez. “You know what, I brought you into this fed, man. You wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for Scott getting his goddamn… whatever broken, and now you want to bail on me?” “No, no, Mike, you’re misunderstanding me. I don’t want to bail on you, I just think that our team needs to be… repackaged.” “What’s wrong with the In Crowd?” “Mike… it doesn’t fit who we are. I’m just a guy from the streets, and you’re this flashy, showstopping guy. You’re In Crowd material, maybe, but I’m not, and if we’re going to be a team we need something to reflect both of us.” Mike nods slowly. “So, what do you suggest?” “Well… I was hoping you would help with that. I’m not really the name guy, I’m just a fighter.” Mike feels his chin, unsure. “Hmm… how about ‘The One Night Stand’?” “No.” “Vicious and Delicious?” “It’s been done.” “Savage Garden?” “…no.” “The Alley?… no. I’ve got it. Hollywood Boulevard.” “Hollywood Boulevard?” “Yeah… see, I’m the superstar, you know? Hollywood, that represents me, and how awesome I am. Hollywood’s like the golden city, and after a month or so I’m going to be covered in gold. As for Boulevard, that represents you – from the streets, one tough mother, you know? Hollywood, Boulevard – man, we’re Hollywood Boulevard.” “Well, I can live with that. Second… music.” “What’s wrong with Popular?” “Nothing, but it’s not really us… we need something slower, less cocky, more focused.” “Slower, less cocky, and more focused? How about… um… ‘Still Fly’?” “No, that’s too… goofy.” “… are you insulting my musical taste, Cortez?” “Everyone else does, Mike.” “Point.” “Anyway, I was thinking ‘This Is Your Life’ by Switchfoot.” “But… it’s Switchfoot.” “Yeah?” “…eh, if you gave into Hollywood Boulevard, I’ll give into Switchfoot. But dammit, if I find something better by Wednesday you’d better believe I’m stopping your ass from giving anything Switchfoot-related to the production guy.” “Okay, Mike.” “Okay… so, now we’ve got a new name, new music… but we’re still gonna kick everyone’s ass. Right, Todd?” “You’d better believe it.” FADE OUT.

Returning from a commercial break, SWF Storm is back on the air...and as the show returns, already in the ring is the SWF's largest rookie Edward James, who with his entrance already taken care of during the break is busy preparing himself for his upcoming match. As he continues to warm up, meanwhile, we can go longer without dropping in on Bobby Riley and Cyclone Comet at the announce position. "Greetings Citizens, and welcome back to Storm..." Comet beams. "I am of course CYCLOOOOOONNNEEE COOOMMMEEEEET...and...with me is Bobby Riley." "Thanks for putting me over buddy." sneers Riley. "No more than you deserve...anyway, onto more important discussions. It's now time for a little wrestling...and as you can see, in the ring is Edward James. James is still looking to kick-start his career with a big win. And his opponent tonight also had a rough time at Battleground...that being Landon Maddix." "The less said about that the better I think..." "Oh, of course. How could we talk about a loss by 'the golden boy'?" "He's not 'the golden boy'...he's The Disciple...get it right, because that's what you're paid to do." "What?" "Get things right. Bring up boring, pointless information, call the action and generally be afraid for your anal passage with me telling a bunch of jokes. Don't you READ your contract?" ..... "Can we just go up to Funyon? Now? .....Please?" It looks as if Cyclone will get his wish, as suddenly the lights go out which is the catalyst for N.E.R.D's "Lapdance" to begin to pump through the Dean Smith Center...prompting the Chapel Hill crowd to voice their displeasure at who's on his way. Stepping out from the back, there's no cocky stride or crowd riling actions from Landon Maddix...only a focused look and walk, as he strides down the aisle. A little way behind him is Megan Skye, she too not in her usual smug mood considering the condition of 'her Todd'. "And introducing...accompanied to the ring by his 'Perfect 10' Megan Skye and representing The Unnamed. From Huron, South Dakota...weighing in at two hundred and ten pounds...LANDON..."LA CUCARACHA"...MAAAAADDIIIX!!!" Landon slides into the ring, not bothering to open the ropes for Megan as is usually customary...instead, she quickly scurries around to the corner, whilst Landon strides over to James and gets up in his face. Or at least he would be, if he had a stepladder. Or stilts. But still, Landon shows no fear and simply glares up at James. Seeing both men ready to begin the match already, assigned referee Ced Ordonez quickly calls for the bell... *DING! DING!* ...which is promptly rung. "We're underway..." Comet needlessly points out. "...Landon Maddix is not wasting any time here tonight...showing no fear of the monstrous rookie." "Why should he? This goof has all the talent of...well...you!" "Don't doubt the talents of a superhero my feminine friend." "Edward James is a superhero!?!" With the match officially underway, Landon takes a step back from the imposing frame of James and beckons him on, still showing no fear or intimidation. James too is fearless, reacting to Landon's request by moving in on The Disciple, lunging forward at him... ...but Landon ducks under James' sprawling arms, and scoots behind him. Slowly Eddie J reacts and turns around, where Landon is waiting with a quick boot to the gut and one quickly after into the knee. James shrugs both shots off, but Maddix perseveres and fires another boot to the bigman's gut which has little effect. Again Landon nails James with a boot...and again it has no effect on James, who is only being angered by Landon's offense. "Oh...no..." mumbles Riley in shock. Landon too is worried now, as James is still standing tall...but in his pig-headed determination, Landon fires another boot at James. However this time James is waiting, and catches the boot which leaves Landon awkwardly hopping on his one standing foot like an ostrich trying to fly, seemingly bringing James some humour. Furiously Landon yells something at the bigman, before preparing to swing with his free leg...but before he can, James pulls him in by the leg and wipes The Disciple out with a leaping clothesline! Reeling, Maddix hurriedly scurries from the ring and to the floor, where Megan rushes over to console him. "Well, The Disciple has made a less than impressive start here Bobbo. Not one of his strikes has registered on James, and he's nearly been decapitated by the rookie monster." "I...I don't know what to say." Riley stammers, still in shock. In embarrassment, Landon slides back into the ring immediately, and squares up to James again. James effortlessly pushes Landon away, only back a step or so though as Maddix stops himself and charges again. James is waiting, and raises a big boot which Landon baseball slides under. Not wasting any time in getting back up, Landon pulls himself up and charges again...but James sidesteps, causing Maddix to harmlessly run into the ropes and providing him with much embarrassment. As he turns back around, Landon is clearly fuming as James shrugs his shoulders mockingly at his opponent's mistake. "Landon mindset seems to be off tonight." observes Comet. "He may very well have taken James too lightly." "His mindset's off because Alan Clark nearly crippled him last week!" Riley snaps back. Both men walk back into the center of the ring, with James loosening up his arms as he goes in preparation for a lock-up... *SMACK!* ...but as he lunges forward, Landon reaches up and slaps James across the face! Edward recoils from the blow with his hand to his cheek, as suddenly Maddix sees an opportunity and lunges at the rookie with a flurry of right hands across the head which manage to drop him to his knees. Once there, James finds the strength to reach out and punch Maddix in the gut to buy himself some time. The blow does more than that however, as Maddix stops and doubles over holding his gut whilst the now angered James pulls himself up to his feet. Taking Maddix by the hair, Edward drags him over towards the corner and effortlessly tosses The Disciple face first into the top turnbuckle...waiting for him to rebound before drilling him with another leaping clothesline! Maddix groggily tries to sit-up straight away, but is pushed down and pinned... ONE! TWO! ...kickout. Quickly Landon tries to roll from the ring, but is halted by a pull of the tights by Edward and dragged back in. Up comes Maddix with James still holding him by the tights, spinning him around as he reaches his feet and promptly irish whipping Maddix towards the turnbuckles. James follows straight in, but Maddix places his hands on the ropes and pushes himself up and over James, who only just avoids crashing into the buckles. As Landon lands, he runs off towards the other corner, but Edward does the same so Landon tries the float over again... ...but this time, James stops just short and turns to the side, catching Maddix on his shoulders as he comes back down! Frantically Maddix tries to scurry free, but can't do so as James turns back towards the ring and quickly brings Landon crashing down to the canvas with a BRUTAL death valley driver! "OOOOOOOHHH!!!" "Oh my!" booms Comet. "Edward James upgrades to a DVD...playa!!!" "Wha..." James drops down to the side of Maddix again, and makes another cover... ONE! TWO! ...NEARFALL! "The rookie is being smart here, going for a pin after every high impact move in an attempt to gain victory." points out Cyclone. Despite kicking out, Landon is still knocked silly from the DVD and can't seem to get up. In the meantime, James has backed off the ropes, and comes back looking to drop a big elbow...but Landon is able to scoot out of the way, and James hits nothing but canvas! Remaining down, James holds his elbow, whilst Landon takes a backstep and flips through the air... ...but misses the Standing Star Press, as James moves out of the way! Both men get quickly up, but Landon is left doubled over while James grabs him under the head and legs, picking The Disciple up and dropping him gut first across his knee. Again James drops down, and into a lateral press... ONE! TWO! ...two count. James drags Maddix back up again, throwing him towards the corner once more where Landon stumbles into the buckles. James meanwhile has backed up to the opposite corner, and now charges across the ring towards Landon looking to avalanche him in the corner...but only succeeds in running into a raised boot. As Edward staggers back, Landon quickly hops up to the middle rope and beckons James on whilst boos ring through the arena. "Crash Landon, Cyclone! He's setting him up! Now we'll see how good this rook is..." Slowly James begins to shake off the codwebs, and stagger towards Landon who is waiting to lock James up. The rookie eventually staggers over, and gets hooked... ...but James jabs Maddix in the ribs, causing him to release the rookie from the shock. James takes immediate advantage by grabbing Landon's head and pulling it down, before taking the arm and hooking it over his head. Landon cannot free himself, as James suddenly falls back and snap suplexes Maddix off the rope, driving him to the mat with impact. "So far Eddie J is looking mighty impressive Bobbo." beams Comet. "Well when Landon wins, you'll get a plate with some word on it and a knife and a fork..." "We'll see abou..." "Wha...what I'm trying to say is, you'll have to eat your words." "I guessed that, yes." As Maddix lays flat out holding his back, Eddie J is planning out his next move. Dragging Maddix up once more, the rookie grabs Maddix by the side, lifting him into the air before bringing him down across the knee with a hard backbreaker. Again James makes a cover... ONE! TWO! ...shoulder up. Undaunted, James flips Maddix onto his front and DRIVES a knee into Landon's kidney area, leaving it there while pulling back on Maddix's head as Ordonez drops down to check on Landon. "Modified camel clutch, and James' domination continues." points out Cyclone. "This is an impressive performance." "Phff!" responds Riley in typically eloquent fashion. "He's facing an injured man. Of course he's in control." As the pain begins to set in, Landon starts to claw out for something to grab, Ced having to push his arms away to avoid getting grabbed himself as meanwhile Megan watches on in worry. Just to be a bastard, James decides to change his grip to a crossface, putting even more pressure on Maddix...until Megan cannot take anymore, and hops to the apron in clear view of James. Angrily the rookie releases Landon and moves in on Megan, who freezes in fear...and gets grabbed by the hair!!! "YEEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!" "NO!" wails Riley. "UNHAND HER!!!" With a slight grin, James starts to ball up his fist and looks out to the crowd for encouragement, as Ced is desperately trying to pull him away. Eventually he does so, and Megan drops harmlessly onto the apron where Ced begins to check on her. James meanwhile turns back towards Landon, grabbing him by the hair and pulling up the Dis... *CHING!* ...LOWBLOW BY MADDIX! "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" "Well, it took long enough...but Landon resorts to cheating. Why am I not surprised?" bemoans Comet. James doubles over and holds his little rookies, as Landon quickly turns onto his back and slams his boot into James' head which staggers him back. Still James is up though, so Maddix scampers up and runs off the ropes, coming back with a flying forearm... ...BUT GETS CAUGHT!!! "YEEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!" With Landon in his arms, James smiles and begins to walk around the ring picking his spot...before hoisting Maddix up, and dropping him down with a backbreaker! Keeping Maddix in his arms, James again picks Landon up and again brings him down across the knee, before pulling him up a third time. This time, Eddie J walks forward a step before looking to launch Maddix over his head... ...but Maddix spins out in mid-fallaway slam, catching James in a reverse front facelock and beginning to choke away at James while wrapping his legs around the bigman's waist! "DRAGON CLUTCH!!!" Riley erupts in glee. "What a counter!" "It was indeed a fantastic counter...and now Citizen James is in trouble!" With the two hundred ten pounds of La Cucaracha hanging from his neck, James is fading fast but defiantly trying to walk himself towards the ropes. Landon meanwhile is leaning back with all his might, trying to take James down to the mat where he would have more leverage...but for now, Eddie J is staying up. And he's almost near the ropes too, so Landon is forced to pull back on the head even more to try and stop him. Eventually James stops in his tracks, his arms going limp as Ced is watching on closely...and finally decides it's time to check James. Taking the arm, Ced holds it aloft as dramatically as possible... ...and it drops. "ONE!" Ced takes the arm again, holding it up again before letting it go... ...and it drops again. "TWO!" "YES!" Riley screams. "YES!" Maddix screams almost at the same time. With James seemingly slumping further into himself, Ced turns to the timekeepers table and warns that it may be nearly time to call for the bell... ...but suddenly James is out cold, collapsing to the mat... ...AND CRUSHING LANDON UNDERNEATH HIM!!! "OOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHH!!!" "Well...the good news is, Landon took James down. The bad news is...well...he took James down." observes Cyclone. "Very astute..." Holding his ribs, Maddix rolls around on the mat in pain, as meanwhile James lays flat out, near unconscious. However,. Landon quickly gains his bearings and drops an arm across James… ONE! TWO! ...SHOULDERUPBYJAMES!!! "WWWWWWHHHHHEEEEEEEEYYYYYYY!!!" Landon despairingly questions the count, but Ced re-iterates that it's two. Angrily Maddix gets up, and lands a couple of boots on James before backing away and climbing out to the apron. Boos greet him, so Maddix holds his arms to the side to mock the fans before continuing on and climbing up to the top rope. "Landon's going to fly here...his best course of action Bobbo, for sure." As Maddix reaches the top, Eddie J is reaching his feet but staggered...giving Landon time to steady himself on the ropes before diving off, and launching himself at James with a missile dropkick, which connects to the BUTT of the jaw and knocks James down! Quickly Landon dives into a cover... ONE! TWO! ...KICKOUT! "Another nearfall, and Landon looks to be getting frustrated..." "Of COURSE he's getting frustrated Comet! This glorified jobber should be packing his bags and calling a cab by now!" This time Landon has had enough, getting right up in Ordonez's face and providing him with a few choice words, while James remains on the mat recovering. "Go on Landon...hit him!" yells Riley. "His move nearly broke your neck, after all!" "It was Alan Cla..." "It was Ced's MOVE! HIT HIM!" Ced brandishes Landon two fingers, but Landon shoots right back with one of his own...and no prizes for guessing which one! "KILL HIM CED! KILL HIM CED! KILL HIM CED!" Hearing the chants, Landon points out to the crowd and encourages Ced to do just so, but Ced shakes his head... ...SO LANDON SHOVES ORDONEZ! "OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHH!!!" "Oh my...I wouldn't do that if I were Citizen Maddix!" Comet states. "Ced still knows how to detatch someone's spinal column, I'm sure!" Ordonez is just about managing to keep his composure... ...as meanwhile, James is back up and spins Landon around into a right hand! Another right connects...and another...and another, knocking Maddix down! Quickly Maddix pops back up, but gets grabbed by James who irish whips him forwards, only for Maddix to reverse. James hits the ropes...and suddenly has his leg tripped by Megan from the outside! Angrily he turns around and points down at Megan, but meanwhile Landon is sneaking up behind him. As James turns back around, Landon swings out for a superkick... "SWEET DISCIPLE MUS..." "DUCKED!" ...but James ducks, and waits for Landon to wheel around before catching him under the arm... ...and hitting a T-Bone Suplex!!! Maddix bounces off the mat, as James hooks the leg... ONE! TWO! SHOULDERUP! "Only two again! Edward James with countless nearfalls on the last ever JL Champion here tonight!" gasps Comet. Quickly James pulls Maddix up and grabs him by the arm, but Landon spins behind before he can grab the other one, kicking Eddie J in the ribs. Slowly he turns around, as Maddix spins around and aims at James with a roaring elbow...which James blocks with a boot to the arm! Maddix clutches his arm as James takes a step back and goes for the leaping clothesline...but Maddix ducks that, and catches James with a back kick as he turns. Grabbing the arm, The Disciple goes for a irish whip, but James stops it and sends Maddix into the turnbuckles instead. Following in, James goes for the avalanche but Maddix raises his boots...but James manages to stagger away from his reach. Slowly he turns back, but Landon isn't content to wait on James...instead leaping off the middle rope, hooking James on the way and spinning him around... ...WITH A FLYING CRASH LANDON!!! "Crash Landon...I think!!!" erupts Riley. James is out cold, as Landon drapes his arm across him... ONE! TWO! THREEEEE!!! *DING! DING! DING!* "I'm an outlaw... Quick on the draw..." "Lapdance" hits, to boos from the crowd as Landon rolls off James and out of the ring where Megan greets him with a celebratory hug. "Well...Landon eeked out the win here tonight..." "He 'eeked' out nothing. Another dominating victory for The Disciple..." Slowly Landon and Megan begin their walk to the back, Landon's arm held aloft in victory as they go. "Your winner of the match...Landon...”LA CUCARACHA”…MAAADDIIIX!!!" Landon and Megan reach the top of the ramp, raising each other's arm while Edward James watches on in the ring with a despondent look on his face. "Well, we've got to go...so let's leave the happy couple to their love-fest, and we'll see you real soon..." ...and we fade away to commercial.

He checks his watch. He's on-time. He jiggles his breifcase. It's all in there. He tugs on the edge of his suit jacket. It's clean and pressed. He listens to his shoes as they echo, stepping on the cold pavement. They're polished. Alex Zenon walks through the lower levels of the arena, having entered through the back like always. It's all so routine; what he's become accustomed to over three weeks or so of the same job. Yet, it all seems so out of place today. Everything appears to be happening underwater. He should not be here, and yet... he is still -- "Commissioner!" His throught train is derailed at the sound of a shrill, almost surprised voice. Ben Hardy and Gus run from down the hall, a camera, as always, perched on Gus's shoulder, a mic gripped in one sweaty hand of Ben H. "Co... commissioner," Hardy repeats, out of breath. "It's... well, it's uh..." "A surprise?" inquires Zenon, arching his brow. "Well... well, kind of, Mr. Zenon," says Ben, taking a deep breath and standing up straight, forever immitating the best journalistic poise he knows. "There have been rumours that Mark Stevens would be taking back the reins from you tonight -- and also that he is very displeased with your preformance in his --" "I have heard nothing from Mark," states Alex, glacially. "Really? That seems very out of character for --" "I have heard nothing from Mark. Christ almighty, do you need me to illustrate it or something?" "Uh... uh, no, no," says Ben, backtracking as the commissioner restarts a surly march into the arena. He jogs lightly behind him. "It's just that it doesn't seem like Mark would... well, after Battleground..." Ben trails off, realizing that Zenon's not going to give him an inch. "Er... nevermind. Well, actually, speaking OF Battleground, Mr. Zenon, may I have your thoughts on your match versus Nathaniel Kibagami?" Zenon stops cold. He turns around to meet Ben. "What?" "Well. I... your opinion on the loss, sir. Please." "My opinion on the loss. My opinion on the loss..." Zenon repeats, quietly. "My opinion... I wish Kibagami the best of luck in all his future endeavours and I really hope he can go out and achieve his dream of winning the world title," says Zenon, sweetly as he can. "You... you what?" Ben blinks, stupefied. "Really?" "OF COURSE NOT!" Zenon barks, forcing Hardy and Gus to take a step back. "What kind of motherfucking question is that!? 'What do I think about the loss'? Stupid, Ben. That's so STUPID! I think the loss is complete bullshit! I can't fucking[/i stand it! God Jesus..." Hardy flinches and, with a grimace, decides to soldier on. "Yes, but... well... even if at the end of the match it looked like... you know. You... gave up." There is a moment of extremely uneasy, extremely wary silence. Trembling, Alex leans in, fire literally seeming to burn in his eyes. Ben swallows and closes his own. "Hardy... as long as I've been here, you've been everyone's personal bitch. There are bondage queens who've seen less ass whippings than you have, even if we factor in the Cat O' Ninetails. You've had your fucking teeth kicked down your throat by everyone from David Blazenwing," Zenon snarls, advancing on Hardy, "to the Exploding Chicken," he takes another step, making Hardy shrink, "to fucking Jamie Bjork." Ben H cringes as Zenon puts himself within inches of his face. "Do you have any idea what says?" "N... no?" Alex shakes his head. "Of course you don't. Rest assured that, at least, I'm not going to add one more name to the list of people who've taken the piss right out of you. But rest assured that I don't do that because I pity you," says Alex, forcing a smile. "So... why --" "I don't do it because I CAN FIRE YOU!" Zenon screams, causing Gus to fall down. "Now let's get three things straight. Yeah, I'm still commissioner today. I'll still be commissioner by the end of tonight, and you know what? I'll the still be the fucking comissioner tomorrow! I still think Kibagami can go fuck himself! And I STILL haven't heard anything from Mark Stevens! Now do your boss a favour and PISS. OFF!" Alex spits, shoving Ben away and sending him stumbling backwards, tumbling over Gus's prone form. With a mutter of profanity under his breath, Alex turns tail and continues his stalk into the arena, aggrivatedly pulling a cell phone out from within his suit. Immediately, his face joins Gus and Ben on the floor. There is one unread message in his voicemail. And one very familiar number.

The crowd lets out a raucous cheer as SWF Storm comes back on the air in the Dean Smith Center, in North Carolina! The camera pans around the arena, picking up the thousands of roaring, cheering fans. They're all eager to see the fallout from SWF Battleground, and equally eager to see just what will happen on the show that has become a regular occurence. Panning around one more time to catch a full view of how packed the arena is, the camera begins to swing down towards Bobby Riley and Cyclone Comet. "Helllllooo citizens and fans, I'm CYYYYY...." He's cut off by the lights dropping, and fog billowing out of the entranceway. The overexcited superhero quietens down, and Bobby Riley mutters a cursed "And I thought this show would be good" as red laser lights trace their way through the fog. Absolute silence reigns as the fans hold their breath... "LET FREEDOM RING WITH A SHOTGUN BLAST!" *BOOOOOOOM!* A huge explosion of red pyrotechnics erupts on the stage, and the fans roar once more as Machine Head's "Davidian" explodes out of the speakers! The fog ripples and twists, and stalking through it come two figures. One giant with a belt over his shoulder, and one slightly smaller individual with no belt. The Black Angel and the High Priest of Horrorcore, Aecas and Dace Night. Funyon makes the honourary announcement. "At a combined four hundred and sixty seven pounds! One half of the SWF Tag Team champions, and the leader of the Unholy Trinity! The Black Angel Aecas, and the High Priest of Horrorcore, Dace..." The crowd never, ever, misses its spot. "FUCKING!" "Night! Together they are two thirds of the UNHOOOOOOOOOOOLY TRIIIIIIIIIIINIIIIIIITY!" As the two walk down the ramp with "Davidian" roaring in the background, the fans pick up their favourite chant. "TRIN-I-TY!" "TRIN-I-TY!" "TRIN-I-TY!" "Listen to this crowd, Robert! They're completely in love with the Unholy Trinity!" "Duality, Comet. Where's the third man?" Robert smirks. "I see your point, but still. Dace Night is a respected wrestler, and Aecas won the tag team titles back on Battleground along with his partner, who is...oh." Aecas rolls under the bottom rope, and Dace steps over them as the sound of "Davidian" begins to peter out. The chants for the stable he inherited from Danny Williams ring in the High Priest's ears, as he tosses the metal sign in the air. The Black Angel thrusts his fist into the air, garnering another round of cheers, and before either of the commentators can get a word in edgewise, Dace lifts the microphone in his hand. "I'd love to talk with you all...but we have business to take care of instead! YOU know who I mean!" he growls. "JANUS SUCKS!" "JANUS SUCKS!" "JANUS SUCKS!" "That's right." Dace continues to growl in his gravelly voice. "The Hell Machine is back, and we need to know WHERE he stands. GET OUT HERE!" The crowd's chants turn into loud boos as the arena lights drop out again. Stacatto bursts of red light flash, in time with the low and ominous buzzing of an alarm. Through the red flashes, fountains of blue pyrotechnic rise on either side of the ramp, showering it with azure sparks. The booing continues even as the words that blur on the Smarktron resolve into the ones so familiar to fans around the word. [sTATUS: RELEASED!] Consumed with memories... That preceded today... Given a chance to bereave... Life that's slipping awaaaaay! With Fear Factory's "Resurrection" in the background, the stage curtain sweeps aside, and the familiar figure of the Hell Machine stalks out! He lifts his arms high into the air to thunderous boos from the crowd, red eyes gleaming. And clutched in one huge hand is the other SWF Tag Team title. As he stalks down the ramp through the fountains of blue pyrotechnics, each goes out as he passes it. "And at three hundred and sixty pounds! He is the other half of the SWF Tag Team champions! The last third of the Unholy Trinity, the Hell Machine....JAAAAAAAAAANUUUUUUUUS!" Revive all my fears! Revive wasted tears! Revive void within! Revive once again! Shrugging off his huge trenchcoat as he reaches the bottom of the ramp, the Hell Machine doesn't bother to fold it up neatly. He rolls under the bottom rope and rises to his feet, standing across the ring from the High Priest and the Black Angel. With a wordless roar, he punches both arms into the air, and blue pillars of flame explode from the turnbuckles! The lights come back up as the sound of "Resurrection" fades out, and the crowd doesn't even boo or chant. They're watching the ring, as Janus tucks his tag belt over his shoulder, and motions for a microphone. They wait, as the Hell Machine lifts it to his lips. His voice is soft, almost gentle - yet filled with angered loathing. "I despise you all." Riley snickers. "I think I like him..." Comet frowns. "Your sense of injustice is stunning, Robert." "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!" "SILENCE!" the Hell Machine roars at the fans, before turning his eyes to his 'stablemates'. "Where do I stand, Dace. Where DO I stand? Let's get one thing clear, right off the bat...I'm not your FRIEND. I'm the enemy of all...the monster they couldn't stop on Battleground." "You lost the ICTV title" Dace fires back. "And you won the tag belts. That means you're part of a TEAM." "With HIM" Janus snarls, pointing at Aecas. "Not YOU. Don't cross my path and I won't have to kill you. Touch the scars on your face, 'High Priest'. I can do much, much worse...", he pauses at the disturbing smile on Aecas face, and stares with an even glower at the other seven footer. His fellow tag team champion. "If you think Gabriel can handle me, by all means let him know. I know they call me psychopath, but how do you explain your actions on Battleground? It was you, not I, who nearly broke Toxxic's neck. You let your bitter obsession nearly cost us ALL the gold." Riley cackles. "See, Comet! It isn't Janus' fault at all, its Aecas'!" "You feared Citizen Janus as much as else that night, Robert. He was truely more menacing, but he almost seems... to keep it in control until he lets loose..." Aecas' smile dissolves into a frown as he stares at the Hell Machine, who continues to address his 'friend' and partner. Slowly, the Black Angel steps forward, taking the microphone from Dace. The High Priest of Horrorcore watches as Aecas stands nearly toe-to-toe with the Hell Machine, with just enough room to lift his microphone. His voice is a cool, knowing murmur. "Nathaniel Kibagami." "That was different from Toxxic." the Hell Machine growls back. "No different from your actions the show before Battleground." "And what does that..." "Nathaniel Kibagami." "He is..." "Nathaniel. Kibagami." the Black Angel repeats, slowly, with a faint smile. The crowd reacts as well. "SIIIIIII-LEEEENT..." "SIIIIIII-LEEEENT..." "SIIIIIII-LEEEENT..." "SIIIIIIIIILENCE!" the Hell Machine roars, his voice loud enough to make the microphones crackle with feedback. The crowd IS impressed by the angry expression on the monster's face, but the Black Angel continues to stand with a slight, almost mocking smile. Voice dripping with venom, Janus leans forward, bloody red eyes boring into dead white. "I was going to say I had mutual respect for you..." he growls. "But by mocking me with his name..." The Black Angel cocks an eyebrow, and then the Hell Machine plants a massive microphoned fist into his face, sending him stumbling backwards. The microphone crackles with feedback as it breaks, and Janus throws it aside. "...respect can get F<bleep>ED, and I'll show you a REAL monster!" he roars. But as he storms forward, the Black Angel roars off the ropes and sends the Hell Machine crashing to the mat with a brutal, BRUTAL looking Decapitator! Dace lunges into help his partner, and the two Brits lift Janus up while peppering him with forearms and elbows. But the seven footer knocks Dace away with a harsh Knuckle Bomb, and just slams his other fist into Aecas' chest! Wrestling moves forgotten, the two monsters simply start to punch the hell out of each other as the crowd roars! "RRRRRRRAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!" "Citizens Janus and Aecas are simply trying to beat each other down, Robert! This could put the tag titles in extreme jeopardy!" "There is NO way two partners like that will work together, Comet! Come on, Janus! Kill him! KILL HIM UNTIL HE'S DEAD!" Gaining the advantage, Janus slams a huge headbutt into the Black Angel's skull, and whips him into the ropes. As he spins around however, he sees movement out of the corner of his eye. He turns...to take a YAKUZA KICK from Dace Night, who falls onto his back and rolls out of the ring afterwards! Teetering on his feet, the Hell Machine shakes his head and turns towards where he whipped Aecas... ...ONLY TO GET GORED INTO NEXT WEEK BY THE BLACK ANGEL! Aecas doesn't even STOP as he crashes into the seven foot monster, sending him crashing into the mat. He doesn't stop there, dragging the Hell Machine back up and off his feet, before SMASHING him back down with a Chokebreaker across one huge knee! Rolling out of the ring with his tag title in tow, the Black Angel lifts his arms up above his head, turning his eyes to the High Priest of Horrorcore. Dace retreats up the ramp, yelling something at the ring, and he points at Aecas, shaking his head and cutting a hand across his throat. "Trinity's dead!" Dace roars over the cheering fans. "Watch your back, Aecas!" The Black Angel nods and lifts a hand in farewell as the High Priest of Horrorcore heads backstage. Aecas then turns his eyes back to the ring, and lifts his eyebrows slightly. In the center of the ring, Janus is sitting up, and not holding his chest at all. The dead white eyes of the Black Angel lock again with the bloody red of the Hell Machine. They speak, but the camera doesn't pick up what they're saying. Instead, it just keeps focused on their glares...and then pans to the tag belt over Aecas' shoulder, and its partner on the mat next to the sitting Hell Machine. The Unholy Trinity has met its end... and can two monsters such as these men co-exist to defend the title they both hold? "We'll be right back after commercial, Citizens and fans. It seems the Unholy Trinity is finished, and heavens know what will become of the tag titles!" Comet frowns. "Well, we know one thing, spandex boy." Riley grins. "What's that, Robert?" "These two are going to KILL each other..." The camera lingers, on the unbroken, steady staring between the Hell Machine and the Black Angel, as we fade to commercial.

Currently the SWF's busiest man, Benjamin Hardy is once again in the backstage area with his trusty microphone held to his mouth...and as the camera pans to the side from Hardy, we see that he has caught up with Landon Maddix, who is busy lacing up his boots in preperation for his match later on. A hefty scowl adornes Maddix's face, as he finishes up his right boot, and begins on his left without even acknowledging Hardy's presence. "I'm here in The Unnamed's locker room..." Benjamin begins, regardless. "...with Landon Maddix, who is preparing for action later on tonight. And...there's no sign of John Duran, or Todd Royal for that matter...the feeling in this room is rather subdued. Still getting over the post Battleground party, eh Landon?" Landon promptly stops lacing his boot, and glares up at Hardy. "Party!?!" The Disciple snaps. "Yeah, well...seeing as John Duran won the SWF Heavyweight Championship, I assumed that your subdued mood was down to a...well, a hangover." The glaring look from Landon has now become one of dis-belief, as he stands up from the bench he had been sitting on and casting his confused look upon Hardy. "I don't GET hangovers!" Landon again snaps. "Oh, well...I'm sorry...I just assumed..." "That we had a party? Oh, yeah...what a party it was. Boy, we painted the town red!" "Yeah?" "Yeah...what with Alan Clark damn near spiking me through the ring on Friday night, and with my Todd sustaining an injury during Battleground...we had a WHOLE lot to celebrate!" Benjamin realises he's put the proverbial foot in the proverbial...well...'it'...and tries to stammer out an apology, but doesn't get too far before Maddix cuts him off again. "Are you really that stupid Hardy? Yes, John Duran won the SWF Heavyweight Championship, which is cause for celebration of course. And I'm elated for him. But as much as The Unnamed is a unit, we are also seperate. Todd Royal doesn't feel like celebrating after what Coy West did to him. He's out indefinately Hardy. On the shelf. My Todd is hurting. Thus, I don't feel in the mood for celebration either...especially after what Alan Clark did to ME. He tried to end my career. He tried to put me on the shelf. He tried to drive me through the ring like a damn tent post with that Ordonez Tempest Driver, and he enjoyed doing it. He may have been able to celebrate. I couldn't. I'm an injured man!" "Well, injured or not...tonight you are being forced into a match with the rookie Edward James..." "My Todd..." Again Hardy stops, this time confused at to Landon's partly scathing response. "How in the HELL did you get this job?" Landon snaps. "You've stepped into my locker room while I'm preparing for a match, and not only succeeded in pissing me off royally...but you've also managed to ask two questions, each other as uniformed as the other. I'm not being FORCED into anything Benjamin Hardy. I ASKED for this match with Edward James tonight...well...not Edward James...but I asked for a match tonight. You see, tonight I'm going to prove to Alan Clark that although he technically beat me..." "Technically?" "Shut up. Technically he beat me. But in actual fact, he failed. That's right...he FAILED! Just like he always does. He didn't make me doubt Todd's power as he said he would. He didn't break my neck like he tried to. And he DIDN'T put me on the shelf like he attempted. He FAILED. All he did was make me stronger. I'm going to prove that tonight, by taking James Edwards, and showing him what it's like to step in the ring with a bona-fide superstar. Tonight, I will prove that there is no stopping this runaway train. And in the meantime, I hope Alan Clark is watching this and I hope he'll be watching my match..." Suddenly Landon turns away from Hardy, taking the microphone with him as he glares into the camera instead. "Alan...if you think this is over between you and I...you're dead wrong. This is just another beginning. If my memory serves me correctly...you and I currently stand at two-two in singles competition. Now, I may be the only one who thinks this, but in my opinion this confrontation needs a winner. I'm not the kind of guy to settle for a draw. I know you want to prove you're better than me too. Now we're two and two, I think we need...a rubber match. To settle this once and for all. Don't you go worrying yourself Clark...once I get done with Eddie Gay tonight, I'm going to find out just who's running this show this week and I'm going to come up with a few ideas. See...I think we need a fifth match, but I also think it needs to be done on MY TERMS. So...you'll be hearing about that very soon. Until then, you just concentrating on getting all the boasting you can done...because after I get us our match, there will be nothing for you to boast about. NOTHING! Nobody gets the last laugh on Landon Maddix. Not you, not anybody...especially not you. Now I suggest you leave Hardy..." Ben hesitates, which causes Landon to sigh in frustration. "Now!" "Err...you...you have my microphone." "I'll FedEx it to you...just get the hell out of here." Not wanting to find out what the consequences of staying are, Ben quickly scurries off...at which point Megan Skye appears in his place. "Can you believe that guy?" exclaims Landon. "What an idiot." "Totally." agrees Megan. "Cute ass though..." Landon glares up at Megan, who realises what she just said and smiles meekly. "Excuse me?" "Relax...I was just kidding. Besides, there's only room for one cute ass in my life." Landon sniggers, and goes back to finishing off his bootlaces...and once done, he stands up and begins to walk away...only to stop, and turn back to Megan. "You...you meant YOUR cute ass, right?" "Maybe." Again Landon sniggers, before turning and walking away...Megan watching him, or at least a certain part of him (*wink wink*) before following on after her charge.

I can't believe nobody has recomended Bobobo~bo Bo~bobo yet. That's the best fucking show ever.

SWF Favorite Writer(s): Fallout. Seriously. That guy never lost, pretty much. Remember his streak? Anyway, I liked Nekura, Silent. I liked Fury's early stuff. Favorite Promo(s): Rise And Fall of Chrissy Stardust, anything G0R0 did. Favorite Match(es): I love the match I wrote against Silent in the ML, the HIAC. I also love the Johnny Rotten match which was written at 4 AM. Great stuff. Favorite Stip to Write: Hell In a Cell. My Biggest Accomplishment: Winning the SWF title in my second match back from my comeback. I Regret That: I didn't make the Clan as big as I could have. I Wish: Nekura was still around. Also that you people still cared about the audio show. Dream Matches Involving Yourself: Me versus Suicide King, one on one, where we finally write against each other. Dream Matches: Toxxic versus Fallout, I've Become Most Friendly With: Annie, Renegade, Zed, Kibs. I Hope: When I do make my return, I tear ass. Personal Name (First name works, last name if you don't care): Ted Polak Single: Nope, got a girl I've been dating for about a month. Have Most Trouble: Being understood; I'm really out there. Favorite Things to Do: Game... and... game, I guess. Most Recent Accomplishment: Destroyed a compsci midterm. Most Recent Failure: Failed the next midterm. Favorite Bands: Ayumi Hamasaki, Sparta, Seatbelts, Move, Vicky Vale, Minibosses, Kumi Koda. Favorite Book: Cryptonomicon by Neal Stephenson Favorite Movie: The Big Hit (I'm fucking serious, this movie is genius) Favorite Actor: Gordon Liu One Song to Listen to On Repeat: Dearest (Implication Dub Mix) - Ayumi Hamasaki One Item You'd Save During A Fire: My Computer Something You Want to Get Into To:Step up my game in Street Fighter one more notch and play the big tournaments. Biggest Regret/Mistake: Letting people walk over me for years and years. Biggest Turn On: Women who game. Biggest Turn Off: Said women saying they game, but mashing the fucking buttons like fucking little kids. If You Died and Went To Heaven, What Do You Want God to Say: "You win." How About Going to Hell, Devil says: "You win."

Aw geez... that's depressing. Wildchild hung it up, you know.

Goddamn, it's stuff like this that makes me feel like a n00b.

I love right in the middle, when all the kids start acting like Brock Lesnar coming off the top rope.

Thank you for making my job easy.

Above Average... Mike Sanders? OH MY GOD! MIKE SANDERS IS IN THE SWF!

The BCW was my way of getting Ced to come out of retirement. It's no secret that the moment I'm done with CC, whenever that may be, I'm in no hurry to stop, but whenever that time comes, I have stats ready to go for a new character. And maybe you'll think he's like me, maybe not, but it's a side I definitely want to show.

There are no exclamation points. They all seem bored.

The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation presents... SWF LOCKDOWN FOR APRIL 14TH, 2004! *LIVE* FROM THE *SOLD OUT* SEC TAYLOR STADIUM IN DES MOINES, IOWA! (5:00pm PDT, 8:00pm EDT; check local listings for cock) OPENING PROMO: Tryst MAIN EVENT TRIPLE THREAT TAG TEAM MATCH FOR THE WORLD TAG TEAM TITLES Janus & Aecas© vs Tom Flesher & Ann Onita vs Mike Van Siclen & Todd Cortez Who is Todd Cortez? And why does he have a title match in his debut? And what the crap is he doing with Mike Van Siclen? What the hell is anyone doing with Mike Van Siclen? Can Tom Flesher and Annie Onita get along? Why all these questions? Do the tag champs care? Rules: Triple threat rules, first pinfall or submission wins. You CANNOT tag out to any corner, you can only tag out to your own partner. Word Limit: 7000 Send To: realitycheck Danny Williams vs John Duran Danny Williams pinned the World Champion in Storm’s main event. That’s something Duran needs to do at the next Pay Per View if the wants the title for himself. But there’s a thing as testing your mettle, and seeing if you have what it takes. It’s gut check time for the leader of the Unnamed, as he tries to beat the man who beat the man he needs to beat. Word Limit: 5500 Send To: realitycheck Nathaniel Kibagami vs Toxxic Toxxic’s hot streak is over, and so is his ICTV title, now around double champ Janus’s waist. In his first match since defeat he faces Nathaniel Kibagami, who is pretty much probably going to kill him being he is so pissed off. A loss to Alan Clark is something he cannot put up with. Rules: Singles match, DQ & Countout apply. Word Limit: 5000 Send To: Grand Slam CRUISERWEIGHT TITLE MATCH Alan Clark© vs Johnny Dangerous Johnny finally gets his shot, as Clark rides an amazing wave of momentum with a win over returning Nathaniel Kibagami. Rules: Cruiserweight rules. Word Limit: 5000 Send To: Suicide King HARDCORE MATCH Crow vs Dace Night Crow’s back! And what better way to welcome him than with a situation he’s quite familar with. Dace Night. Hardcore rules. Rules: None, baby. Word Limit: 4500 Send To: 5_moves_of_doom USJL TITLE MATCH Stryke© vs Coy West vs Todd Royal Todd and Coy have targetted each other and Stryke beat Coy for the title. There’s your backstory. Word Limit: 5000 Send To: chirs3 BONUS MATCH FOR AN SWF CONTRACT “La Sensation Senegalaise” Said vs “El Hombre Sin Cara” Maskarade Austin Sly vs Insane Luchadore Newbie versus veteran AMAZING BATTEL!!! Rules: Singles match, DQ & Countout apply. Word Limit: 4000 Send To: Grand Slam Landon Maddix vs Tryst With the Unnamed in his corner, does Maddix stand a chance of losing to Tryst? Rules: Singles match, DQ & Countout apply. Word Limit: 4000 Send To: Thoth Send promos, marked matches, etc. to 5_moves_of_doom

OMG INVASION MAKE SWF LOOK WEAK THOUGH BECAUSE OAOAST IS THE HOME PRODUCT DEEZ NUTS~

WestSYEED