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Edwin MacPhisto

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Posts posted by Edwin MacPhisto


  1. Come on, folks. The guy booking the show shouldn't have to be the one pushing comments into the double digits. Only half a dozen people have even posted on it, and the two who've said anything about the show in detail aren't even writing matches. Even a quick 5-minute note would be wonderful. That said...

     

    Comments for Duran!

     

    First off, don't worry: as far as I know, Comet is here for a good long run. I like the little change-up you do with your entrance, knocking the beer out of the woman's hands. It's a nice touch. One thought first of all: fire off a board promo between now and Lockdown. Short of what I've read in these last two matches and your stats, I have very little conception of who John Duran is and what makes him unique in the SWF.

     

    Big note #1:

    Duran quickly moves his body over CIA's to cover him for a cover early in the match, the ref paying close attention to the mat and immediately dropping to his knees to count the first pinfall of the match.

     

    It might help to run back through your match after you've written it and do some edits. There's a lot of repeated information here and just a few simple clean-ups can keep your flow moving more fluidly. It'll also save you words at the end of the day.

     

    Here's another question off that same quote: why *does* Duran go for the early pinfall? Comet calls him a fool and everyone'd tend to agree. Keep an eye out for things like that--just because we're used to seeing WWE guys go for pinfalls off vertical suplexes sans explanation doesn't mean it's the best thing here. A quick aside about how getting the first pinfall gives Duran the psychological advantage or challenges CIA to match him can do a lot for making the match seem more than by-the-numbers wrestling.

     

    You do a real nice job with CIA's first offensive burst right after--the bulldog, the playing to the crowd quickly, and the dropkick to the corner make for a compelling early sequence. Nothing too complicated, but all very effective and good for traditional face mayhem. Duran's repeated punches and then forearm to the face is another simple little sequence that I like.

     

    I would have liked to see a longer sell on the Michinoku Driver II after the dragon sleeper. You start it off very well with Duran being all stumbly and getting the desperation DDT, but he pops up so quickly afterwards that it makes me wonder what the point of the MD II was if we could have just gone straight to the DDT. A move that doesn't progress the match along somehow, tell part of the story, or pop the crowd in particularly notable fashion isn't really a move worth having.

     

    The Ultimate Sin tease into the piledriver, on the other hand, is excellent for exactly those reasons. Crowd reaction, starts CIA on the route to his demise. Add in the taunting afterwards, and Duran is becoming a savvy heel in this match--a good mix of dickery and pure power. The chokeslam is another goodie, and I think with just a bit more of a sell from the commentators and crowd reaction, I would have totally bought it as a near fall.

     

    I like that you didn't waste much time with the boring "elbows to the gut" transition out of the sleeper, and just had Duran shove CIA into a vulnerable position when the hold was going sour. The sunset flip counter I DID buy as a near-fall. Excellent work there. CIA's face comeback and showboating is also very well timed thereafter. Between that and the taunting, you're doing well with non-contact theatrics. As for the finish: I don't think you needed to have CIA kick out at the last second. It was a nice gesture, but don't worry about that sort of thing unless you happen to draw a match against the current world champ or you're in a heated feud. Him kicking out at the last second doesn't make him look strong--just incompetent--and it makes Duran's finisher look like it's barely enough. You'd be better off having CIA stumble up after the match and still get a rousing cheer from the crowd.

     

    So all in all: the match is a bit mired in basics and a few bad habits. Yet look at how much I wrote about it--I really enjoyed reading it, and you're doing a helluva lot more things right than wrong. My summarized suggestions:

     

    -Give us WF guys who haven't followed the JL much a board promo or a pre-match spiel that lets us see a little more of John Duran the character. Flipping folks off and being an ass is a good trademark, but I want to see more behind it.

     

    -Keep an eye out for stuff like the Michinoku Driver II not really syncing up with the rest of the match.

     

    -Play to your strengths for now: good, short sequences (CIA's first face offense, the Ultimate Sin tease/piledriver/chokeslam/sleeper sequence) and clever in-ring action (CIA playing to the crowd, Duran taunting).

     

    I think you'll also gradually want to get more adventurous. It was a good match, but like your PPV affair, a bit plain. I think your tourney match with JD is a good place to experiment a bit--his character can be taken as a tough-ass brawler, hardcore maniac, sick submissionist--he's got a cool moveset and you can really work with him in whatever way you want to try. Keep on truckin'.

     

    And that all only took me about 20, 25 minutes. See? Everybody can do it!


  2. This is a hard one because although Mike had more hits..... He's a freaking weirdo!!! Janet definitely has the sexiness factor as well as points for relative normalcy.

     

    Hmmm.... child molester vs. MTV icon?

    Psssh. "Wanna Be Startin' Somethin" alone earned him at least 5 years worth of Get Out Of Deviancy Free cards with me.


  3. Lestat vs. Angel

    --Angel's hair stands straight up and he's bloody stupid. Lestat'll take this one, possibly after a Spike run-in. That's the feud everyone wants to see anyway. Coming to the WB, this fall, Wednesdays at 9.

     

     

    Myers vs. Bates

    --Frost was right on here. Bates is gonna get owned, and it ain't gonna be pretty.

     

     

    Addams Family vs. Munsters

    --Don't fuck with Fred Gwynne. Munsters in an upset after the Addamses turn on each other. Should be great to see MC Hammer play the Addams Family to the ring, though--it's been too long since I've heard "Addams Groove."

     

     

    Lecter vs. Bill

    --Lecter is just too savvy. Bill's gonna get preoccupied trying to skin the ring girls, and Lecter's gonna bite his face off and hit his trademark moonsault for a win that should really push him up the card come next mont.

     

     

    Ash vs. the Evil Dead

    -Agree with Frost here as well. They'll tease a Dead win a lot, and some cowboys from old Brisco County Jr. reruns might do a run-in, but ain't no one kickin' out of the big boot/boomstick combo.

     

     

    Marital Strife Match

    --Dracula is a better team anchor, but Frank is gonna be tough to stop. It's a classic match of speed vs. power. I just hope the wives spend most of the time on the apron, because that hair-pulling catfight shit's gonna get old fast. Frank goes over here to set up a bigger blow-off in the future. Drac's gonna have to train a little harder to get past the beast.

     

     

    Cushing vs. Lee

    --Lee still has a career. Cushing got blown up in the Death Star. Drac turns the tide on Van Helsing.

     

     

    Vorhees vs. Freddy

    --Jason's propensity for restholds puts everyone to sleep, including himself. From there on out, Freddy gets a la majistral in the dream world, and Pinhead counts the 3. A real-world ref comes out, resets everything, but the dreamworld ref turns into a snake and eats him, and we've got a Dusty Finish and a DQ to end it and keep heat on everybody. Disappointing end to a largely impressive show, and a bit of a waste of Pinhead. He should be doing more than wearing the pinstripes. Get it? PIN-stripes? Oh man, I'm good.


  4. So, in a flight of idiocy, I watched all three Jurassic Park movies last night. Remember in The Lost World, the British couple on the beach at the beginning? The father is Robin Sachs, aka Ethan Rayne. Now we know why all the dinosaurs are such kooky hell-raisin' customers after all.

     

    I'm kinda interested in the game. I hear the first one was pretty solid. Anyone actually play it?


  5. Definitely drop a big speech, Spikelas. There's more than enough room for it, and the show'll be boring if there aren't any promos.

     

    My quick take on the show and what I marked:

     

    Very cool hardcore match from Mssr. Lucretia. It's built up very steadily--a match based almost entirely around strikes and weapon shots for the first 2/3, yet it doesn't come off as cheesy hardcore brawl. I'm not a hardcore fan, but between the streetfight and this you guys are making one of me.

     

    Sacred takes a close one from Judge. It's got some problems--a few of the spots are just weirdly contrived, and Sacred seems awfully stupid throughout a lot of the match, but the character calms down by the end and the finishing sequence is a thing of beauty. Judge remains the clear technical master, but Blackwell comes out the winner after a brilliant feint. Everyone should read this.

     

    The angle developments are cool. It's weird to see Wildchild with Ejiro, and I do hope he comes out of this with some improvements, but also still maintaining his highspot facedom. Wildchild the reluctant heel can only last so long. The segment involving Johnny certainly ratcheted that tension up a bit, and I would love to see a WC/Ejiro tag match against Johnny and an applicable partner. I also think this story will thrive well in the confines of the tournament, though I wish we'd have been able to include WC in it too.

     

    Mask vs. Mask was a bit disappointing in the aftermath of the PPV, but hey, the payoff is there now and the angle makes sense. Can't wait to see what Spike, the most veteran guy in the league now, has to offer now that he's shed the mask. Also very hyped about Annie--it's like both masked characters were them feeling out the fed again both IC and OoC, and now it's time for some hell-raisin'. These two could go very far in the tourney.

     

    Everything's quiet on the King/Mark front, but King's promo about the tourney keeps his presence alive. Hope for more on the next show.

     

    I also liked how most people handle Cyclone Comet. As long as you don't go overkill with the "I fight for justice!" and convoluted language, he's great. Also very funny to see Riley have to sort of slide into the play-by-play role. Solid show, that, even more importantly, seemed to have everybody writing.


  6. Live from VENUE WHEN IT'S NOT 4 IN THE MORNING HOO DIDDLY.

     

    SWF Lockdown for Wednesday, August 20th!

    Due time: 8PM EST

    Send to: Grand Slam!

    Your commentators remain Bobby Riley and Cyclooooooooooone Comet!

    Venue: The King-Dome, in Fargo, North Dakota! The Suicide King's personal arena is the venue for the tournament kick-off! King's ego will be in high gear for sure. Check, uh, this here link for some more Kingdome info.

     

    The road to Genesis begins here. Check out Storm for King's word on the matter. Get set for a 24-man, double elimination tournament. The winner takes on the SWF World Heavyweight Champion in the Genesis IV main event. We've trimmed some of the problems that plagued 2001's tournament and amped up the opportunities that made it great, so get ready. Tonight is the first round--12 matches. All parameters are the same:

     

    Word Limit: 5000

    Standard singles rules, with DQs and count-outs in effect.

     

    The JLers listed have not been bumped. This is a special opportunity for these guys to make their careers. If you do well in the tourney, we'll obviously take note. And if you make it to the end...well, then hats off to you. Everyone involved is encouraged to keep up angles and plan for Genesis accordingly. Remember, only one of you is going to be in the world title match at the PPV, which means that the rest should certainly keep your programs and character developments going. Now might be a good time to rock a board promo or two and really set things out. In any case, after this show and Smarkdown, people will be eliminated, tourney matches will be emptying, and the regular match schedule will be interspersed with the tourney. This opportunity is great, so go for it. Just have a backup plan!

     

    As for the tourney format: Winners fly into the winner's bracket, and losers drop down into the loser's bracket with one last shot to keep hope alive. But we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. For now: the opening round of the SWF Genesis IV Title Tournament.

     

    (I'll add descriptions in the morning. Many of these are random pairings, but you guys deserve a little setup.)

     

    Michael Craven

    vs.

    ???

    --Coming off a close gambit at the ICTV title, Michael Craven opens the tournament. Irate at coming so close to the title, he issued a special first-round challenge to whoever thinks he can take on the King of Nightmares. The call has been answered, but we don't know yet who's stepped up...

    Marker: Edwin MacPhisto

     

    "The Sacred One" Andrew Blackwell

    vs.

    Xcalibur

    --Blackwell, a former world champ, has got to be a favorite heading into this tournament. But Xcalibur himself pulled a win over Quiz on Storm. A hot match-up between two master manipulators, for sure...

    Marker: Edwin MacPhisto

     

     

    Nathaniel Kibagami

    vs.

    English Dragon

    --Nathaniel Kibagami is here, and Nathaniel Kibagami is very angry. English Dragon, the JL's resident bluebood Brit, has got one hell of a test ahead of him...

    Marker: Edwin MacPhisto

     

    Jay Dawg

    vs.

    "The Sinner" John Duran

    --JAY DAWG IS HARDCORE...and back. JOHN DURAN...is new! But he's 2-0 in the SWF. Can he take his winning streak to 3 with a victory over the old-school SWF mainstay, or will Jay Dawg be main eventing Genesis two years in a row (god help us)?

    Marker: Grand Slam

     

    Crow

    vs.

    Apostle

    --One's dark, brooding, and a bit crazy. The other is dark, brooding, and a bit crazy. My money's on the dark brooding crazy guy.

    Marker: Grand Slam

     

    Quiz

    vs.

    Mak Francis

    --Mak's proving to be a dominant ICTV champion, but here's a man who's got the rare match over on The Franchise. Quiz snatched the tag titles at Ground Zero, and this half of an II/DJ rematch should be smokin'.

    Marker: Grand Slam

     

    Danny Williams

    vs.

    Viktor Tarankov

    --The Red Rage, JL champion, is in the house...the house of Danny Williams. Watch those elbows, Vik. I hear they're a doozy.

    Marker: chirs3

     

    Dante Crane

    vs.

    Stryke

    --Markus Cirillo's running mate comes up against another Aussie. Unfortunately, we're going to have to the loosen the anti-AU glass ceiling a bit and let one of them through...

    Marker: chirs3

     

    Dace Night

    vs.

    Ejiro Fasaki

    --Hey now, this should just be awesome. Random brackets work out great sometimes. JL history, tag history, and a little bit of blood. It's the High Priest of Horrorcore vs. the US Champion, and it should be darn skippy if you ask me.

    Marker: chirs3

     

    CIA

    vs.

    Spike

    --CIA's still masked, but Atlas is revealed. Shockingly enough, beneath the white face was Spike, former IGNWF champion and the man behind one of the biggest upsets in IGN/SWF history. A history lesson: he became champ when no one expected him to, defeating then-dominant champion Rane in one of the fed's first classic matches. Spike'd certainly like to hang an SWF belt next to his old IGNWF title...but that was then, and this is now. CIA's gonna do everything in his power to stop this blast from the past.

    Marker: Suicide King

     

    Show

    vs.

    Aecas

    --Show is big and looks like Chevy Chase. Aecas is big and looks like motherfuckin' hell. It's hossariffic, and the ring's bound to shake when these two relative newcomers brawl it out.

    Marker: Suicide King

     

    And your MAIN EVENT, ending round one with a bang...

     

    Judge Mental

    vs.

    Annie Eclectic

    --Beezel shed "his" mask on Storm, revealing that he was, in fact, a she--the luminous Annie Eclectic. Under a man's masquerade, Annie was able to rise to the heights of ICTV champion. Can she become the first woman to carry the World Title? The spotlight is on for the Hardcore Queen's "official" return to the ring, but she squares off against Judge Mental, who pounded Sacred into pulp on Storm only to get faked-out at the last second and put down with the Cruel Fate. Can Judge get on the trail to the greatest singles title in the land, or will Ms. B show this old "friend" her true strength?

    Marker: Suicide King


  7. “Welcome back to SWF Storm and tonights MAIN EVENT! I’m Bobby Riley, your new and definitely an improvement over ‘Grand Slam’ Mark Stevens, play-by-play man, here to bring YOU the SWF viewer all the action along side… ugh, CYCLOOOOOOONE COMET!” The cape crusader smiles and nods his head. “Yes I, CYCLOOOOOOOONE COMET am here to bring some truth, justice and the American way, to our commentary both!”

     

    “Well, I guess I could run down the card for you as we’ve seen

     

    “Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to tonight’s SWF Storm MAIN EVENT!” Funyon stands center ring, microphone in hand, gaining everyone’s attention. “The following contest is the scheduled for ONE FALL and is for the SMARKS WRESTLING FEDERATION INTERCONTINENTAL TELEVISION CHAMPIONSHIP!”

     

    Suddenly the lights shut off, as a familiar cursor pops up on the SmarksTron. Keystrokes can be heard in the background, as someone, or something unknown to the viewer types:

     

    C:\>dir/SWF

     

    The distinctive sound of an Enter key being hit, can be heard, as a list is printed onto the screen by the cursor:

     

    Directory of C:\SWF\Superstars

     

    TheSuperiorOne.exe

    WatchMeExplode.exe

    VelvetHammer.exe

    OneManWreckingCrew.exe

    Franchisable.exe

    KingOfNightmares.exe

    HighPriestOfHorrorcore.exe

     

    The sounds of key strokes continue, as a new sentence is typed in:

     

    C:\>Run "KingOfNightmares.exe"

     

    The Enter key is hit again, but the screen stays, instead, the little cursor beginning to flash very brightly and rapidly for several seconds before...

     

     

    *BOOM!*

     

     

    A huge blast of blue and white pyro explodes, the smoke now lingering on stage starts to clear, as strobe lights pulse to the background beat of Saliva’s “King of My World”. As the first words kick in, the strobes cut out, a single spotlight light shines from the entryway, piercing through the smoke. The light illuminates the figure of The King of Nightmares himself, Craven’s body shadowing most of his front side. He stops to look at the fans, and quickly, he spins around twice, finishing by pointing to himself. After holding his pose for a second, he strolls down to the ring. The lights are now a deep blue, as some of the Craven Section fans bow down to him.

     

    ”The CHALLENGER,” shouts Funyon, “from Tampa, Florida, weighing in at TWO hundred and EIGHTY pounds, he is... ‘The King of Nightmares’... MICHAAAAAEL CRAVEN!!!”

     

    Mike enters the ring, hopping over the top rope and landing on his feet, with the US Title around his waist. He climbs the turnbuckle closest to the crowd, opening his arms wide and soaking in the crowd’s response, a chorus of heavy boos except for The Craven Section, as a white spotlight shines down upon him, casting shadows across his face. Mike then hops off the turnbuckle, walks across the ring hitting another corner.

     

    “This man is primed and poised for an ICTV run! Michael Craven went through not one, not two, but three other men to get this shot, by winning at our recent pay-per view, where my announce partner was fired… not that I care mind you.” Says Riley even though his voice betrays his REAL thoughts on the matter, as he tows the company line.

     

    Then Suddenly—

     

    “So do you wanna’ be a Franchise… And live large… A big house… five cars…”

     

    “And his OPPONENT!” shouts Funyon, as the wispy sounds of a digital xylophone echo throughout the arena; a deep background beat, cleverly created by violins, and slightly overshadowing the original background rhythm. As the opening lyrics from Mak Francis’ Rock Superstar remix continue to blare over the PA system, the crowd bursts out of their seats, in recognition of the all too familiar music!

     

    “The rent charge… Comin’ up in the world, don’t trust nobody… Gotta’ look over your shoulder constantly!”

     

    The SmarkTron flares up with a blue and white photonegative image of Mak Francis, which is followed by ‘The Franchise’ in large green lettering, flashing on the screen in time with the beat, interspersed with signature spots and clips of Francis’ trademark smirking pose.

     

    Funyon takes a breath, “From Philadelphia, Pennsylvania,” the crowd pops, “weighing in at TWO hundred and THIRTY-SIX POUNDS… the REIGNING, S-W-F, INTERCONTINENTAL TELEVISION CHAMPION…‘The Franchise’… MAAAAAAAAAK FRANCISsssssss!”

     

    After taking a few steps out and down the ramp, Mak tilts his shades down on the bridge of his nose, before smirking… looking left and then right, soaking up the crowds’ reaction…

     

    “I remember the days, when I was a young kid grownin’ up… Lookin’ in the mirror dreamin’ about blowin’ up!”

     

     

     

    *PWI-SHEW! PWI-SHEW! PWI-SHEW! PWI-SHEEEEEEW!!*

     

     

     

    He readjusts his shades with a smirk, before slowly strolling down to ringside and after walking up the ring steps, he cockily wipes his feet on the apron, giving a salute to the crowd, before entering through the middle ropes. Mak climbs the nearest turnbuckle and poses, as a wave of flashing lights go off. He steps down, and un straps the title belt, handing it over to Mark Hebner, who raises it into the air, to a loud pop, before giving it to a ringside attendant.

     

    “And if you’re looking for a hot wrestler Mak Francis is your man.” Says Comet afte checking his notes. “He could be called the superstar of the month, in fact, with his last singles loss coming to this man, he’s about to face, Michael Craven.”

     

    Hebner checks the defending champion and his opponent for concealed illegal objects and finding none, he signals for the bell. “There is the bell Comet and this one on one contest between the champion Mak Francis and challenger Michael Craven is underway!”

     

    *DING! DING! DING!*

     

    The King of Nightmares shoots at Mak’s leg, but he keeps Craven at bay, blocking with his hands and forearms, redirecting him towards the canvas. Mike, out of position, attempts to recover, but Mak is already driving through his own counter shoot, wrapping his arms around Craven’s legs, pushing through into a takedown, placing Mike on his back. The self proclaimed Franchise quickly scoots to the Nightmare’s upper body… but Craven, knowing what’s coming next, pushes him away and rolls backwards into a tuck. Mak, looks on and stands with a shrug, as Craven just wags his finger.

     

    “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.” says Bobby Riley, as Comet looks at the scene in wonder. “Explain nere-do well.” Riley is happy to impart his opinion on things. “Michael Craven just proved that statement, by knowing his opponent and his tendency to go for that juji-gateme. That’s heads up wrestling by the King of Nightmares.”

     

    The two wrestlers meet center ring, clashing in a collar and elbow tie-up. As they jockey for position, Craven, being fifty pounds heavier, imposes his weight on Francis, backing him up a step. Mak shifts and swats his larger opponents wrist to the left – successfully breaking the grapple, the Franchise ducks low and pops up high, latching on a side headlock.

     

    Francis quickly floats over top and around, one hundred and eight degrees, trying to snitch in a front facelock, but the King of Nightmares shifts and slides on top, in his own amateur waistlock, swiftly transitioning into a front facelock. “The front chancery or facelock, as it is called, can be a very potent maneuver if hooked in correctly—”

     

    “But it’s just a front facelock! A wear down move and not a very good one at that. I’d even say Danny Williams crappy surfboard is better than it, and that’s pretty damn bad!”

     

    “Not true, especially in citizen Francis’ case, being an former high level amateur wrestler, if my notes are correct, normally lends people to be excellent shoot fighters, in which that is a devastating hold. I believe Danny Williams and Jay Dawg are two prime examples of shoot fighters using the move, but it normally involves a body scissors, which Craven cannot seem to shift into against Francis. Because he probably understands what a devastating hold it can be”

     

    “It’s still just a front facelock, even after all that mumbo-jumbo you just said super dunce!”

     

    “Don’t push me Riley, or I may be forced to use my heat vision and make you more of a flamer than you already are…”

     

    At that, Riley shuts up and the self proclaimed Franchise quickly pushes himself and Craven up, not allowing Mike any time to reposition, as he twists and rotates out of the standing facelock, into an arm wringer. Mak quickly transitions, whipping his body down to one knee as he pulls the King of Nightmares into a deep arm drag!

     

    Mak tightens his kneeling armbar, causing Craven to grimace slightly on the mat. The self proclaimed Franchise pushes on the kneeling armbar some more, as Mike pats his shoulder and moves from his BUTT to one knee. Craven shifts a little more and powers his way up out of his crouch, only to have Mak, slap on a wristlock with one hand and push him to the mat. Francis applies more pressure by reaching through Mike’s bent arm with his other arm and grabs his arm applying the wristlock, while pulling upwards to apply more pressure to the elbow.

     

    “A keylock puts the Nightmare right back down to the mat.”

     

    The Nightmare keeps one shoulder up off the mat and counters out of the keylock, twisting into a hammerlock. Craven pushes on the hold, but Francis sits out and feels outs the hammerlock, looking and waiting for the right opportunity to counter.

     

    “The thing that makes Francis so good on the mat is his imagination when it comes to making a counter.”

     

    Mak reaches back; securing a one armed ¾ facelock, before flipping his opponent over his shoulder in a snapmare. Then the Franchise hooks on a headlock, just after Craven quickly turns into his body. The King of Nightmares first move is getting up to a knee, then a hunched standing position. Mike alters the two mens’ course, backing the self proclaimed Franchise up into the ropes, before taking a few steps forward, then attempting to toss him off and on his way – in vain as Mak Francis holds onto the headlock, stomping on the mat to prove he’s not letting go. But from the headlock Craven drops to one knee, asking Mark Hebner to check and see if he’s in a illegal choke. As this is happening Craven’s arm swiftly darts up and…

     

    *ding!*

     

    …Hits Mak low!!!! The King of Nightmares turns the low blow into a school boy, as the crowd boos the heelish act, not even counting along to give him the statifaction…

     

     

    ONE…!

     

     

     

     

     

    TWO…!

     

     

     

     

     

    T

    H

    R

    E—

     

    No! Francis gets a shoulder up, with a grimace on his face. Craven looks on slightly shocked, but in his heart he knew the match wouldn’t end that quickly. None of the others have. “Francis was one upping Craven at every turn so that vile villain used a low blow to turn the tide. Disgracefully!”

     

    Bobby looks on at the scene and feigns ignorance. “Really you caped cretin … cause my monitor went out… or something—yeah, uh, the monitor! That’s it! Besides Mak cheats all the time.”

     

    “Call me that again and there will be retribution…”

     

    Craven picks Mak up and lands a few strikes to the back and neck of a kneeling Francis, still stunned by the low blow, surprised at himself for kicking out. The Gulf Coast Hurricane grabs him and brings him to his vertical bases, then tosses Mak away in an Irish whip. The Franchise bounds back into the picture, and is quickly sent head over heels, by a knee to the solar plexus! Francis flips, holding onto his stomach, while Craven plays to the crowd assuring them that he is in full control of the situation! He picks Mak up once again, but this time Francis stuns him by parrying his punch and diving into the King of Nightmares.

     

    “This is degenerating into an all out brawl,” says Riley, “cool!” Comet concurs, as the fight continues. Craven and Francis quickly come together in a mauling like fashion, throwing all sorts of different strikes at each other, before tying each other up and twirling about the ring! Craven slides low and pushing the Franchise, directs him towards the turnbuckle pads. Meanwhile, Mak is hammering away on Mike’s neck with the point of his elbow, hoping to delay the Nightmares movements.

     

    Craven yanks Francis by the wrist in an Irish whip, forcing the Franchise to run the ropes. Mak returns—

     

    *Whiff!*

     

    —And ducks a ferociously fierce clothesline attempt from the hands of the Nightmare! Francis slides underneath the attack, meant to decapitate him and reaches back, pulling Craven, head first, down to the canvas, across his shoulder, causing him to hold the back of his neck in pain!

     

    “Hangman’s Neckbreaker,” says Cyclone Comet, as Riley looks on in concern for Craven. “That looked faster than a bullet and more powerful than the caffeine in P—” Riley quickly chimes in. “Nope—not gonna’ let you do it Comet! Phoenix Uprising and RX no longer exist, so no shilling of that product—anyways Francis scampers on his hands and knees into a cover, hooking the leg…”

     

     

    ONE…!

     

     

     

     

     

     

    TWO…!

     

     

     

     

     

    T

    H—

     

    No! Craven kicks out at two. Mak, not wanting to let his advantage dissipate, stands up and pulls Craven up with him to his vertical base, before reaching back—

     

    *Smack!* WHOOOOOOOOO!

     

    —And hitting a blistering knife-edge chop to the chest of the challenger! Mak rears back again, this time pushing Mike into the ropes, before—

     

    *Smack!* WHOOOOOOOOO!

     

    —Lambasting him with a second and final, for the moment, knife-edge chop! The last knife-edge sends Mike tumbling backwards into the ropes where Mak grips his wrist and yanks him away for an Irish whip – but Craven spins in the hold, stopping on a dime, before kicking the self proclaimed Franchise, doubling him over, leaving him wide open! The Gulf Coast Hurricane grabs a front facelock and hoists Mak into the air, as if for a vertical suplex – but Craven pauses, letting the blood flow slightly to Francis’ head, before draping him across the top rope, in a reverse suplex!!

     

    Mike quickly saunters over to the turnbuckle to his right and climbs, turning around and leaping off the second buckle, sticking his leg out! As Craven falls, his leg strikes Mak across the back of his dangling body, making him flop over onto the canvas, after some great athleticism from the King of Nightmares!!

     

    “A leg drop from the corner! We don’t get to see much of that from Michael craven on a regular basis. What innovation by the King of Nightmares here tonight!

     

    Mike leans down and yanks Mak up to his feet, from his knees, before grabbing him by the throat and leg, before pushing him over his head!! The crowd does actually marvel at the strength Craven shows at first, but immediately jeers him to make up for it, while he turns around, showing him off to each section! After he finishes the spin Mike drops Mak down and then back up in a bench press rep…

     

    …Allowing the self proclaimed Franchise to slide down his back!! “A—But Francis adjusts and counters!” Mike spins around quickly, but Francis is able to strike first with a toe kick that hunches him! Mak lines Craven up, lifting his chin for a nasty knife-edge chop!

     

    *Smack!* WHOOOOOOOOOOO!

     

    Craven holds his chest in pain, as he tilts his chin up again with his left hand this time for a—

     

    *Wham!*

     

    —Snapping right hand! Francis sets the Nightmare up for another knife-edge chop, which he ducks! The King of Nightmares follows up with a knife-edge chop of his own—

     

    *Smack!*

     

    —That backs the Franchise up, wincing at the pain! Craven follows up with a second blistering knife-edge chop, stunning his opponent with the strike!

     

    *Smack!*

     

    The last knife-edge sends Mak tumbling backwards into the ropes, allowing the King of Nightmare to grip his wrist and yanks him away for an Irish whip! Mak takes off for the opposite side of the ring and Craven stands tall, proud of reversing the trend of knife-edge chops! Francis hits the ropes and rebounds back towards the Gulf Coast natural disaster, who looks to be swinging for the fences with a forearm smash, that the self proclaimed Franchise, counters by racing forward, raising his leg for the high kick! The King of Nightmares eyes get as big as saucers, as Francis closes in… since Francis’ foot will definitely strike him, before he can hit his high powered forearm—

     

    “YAAAAKUZA KICK,” shills Comet, clearly excited and getting into the match, before suddenly, the camera cuts away and focuses on him. He turns and says in a completely different voice, “brought to you by Pepsi Max… Cause when you need a refreshing dr—”

     

     

    *Whooooosh!*

     

     

    “NO—No dice, you, superhero shill! Great awareness by my man Craven, who had Francis scouted.”

     

    —That Craven ducks! Mak looks perplexed as the Nightmare turns him around into a toe kick, hunching him over! Mike swiftly backs up into the near ropes and uses them for momentum, as he jump up scissoring his legs for the Craven kick—

     

    “HE’S GOT HIM!” screams Riley.

     

    *Whooooosh!*

     

    “NO—once again EEEEEEVIL is thwarted by good, Riley!”

     

    —That Mak avoids by standing up straight!

     

    “What is it just me or was that the obvious counter to that…” says a chuckling superhero, by the name of Cyclone Comet, just shaking his head at the scene. “You don’t need x-ray vision, like me of course, to see the Franchise standing up coming.”

     

    “SHUT the hell UP, Comet you’re just like Mark, you’re—you’re a damn MARK!”

     

    Francis loops behind the even more mystified Mike Craven, as he can’t understand how Mak countered! The self proclaimed Franchise grasps the champ about the waist and strugglers with his opponent, who is trying to break his grip, before popping his hips in a—

     

    *Thump!*

     

    “German suplex by the Franchise, but he’s not letting go…”

     

    “Is he going for Rolling Germans?” questions Cyclone Comet, having not yet seen Mak in the ring. “We better not see any Rolling Germans, damnit!” is the reply to his question, from Riley.

     

    *Thump!*

     

    Francis rolls up to his feet again, with the crowd cheering him on and secures a half nelson, quickly attempting to grab Craven’s wrist and complete the Million Dollar Exemption, for what could only be a Million Dollar-plex or maybe even a full nelson! Even the announcer are stumped at which one he is trying for—

     

    “If he gets that cobra clutch or full nelson on, he can complete his rolling suplex sequence that many have attributed to his win over Michael Craven at 13th Hour! If he hadn’t hit that head drop there is no way he could have locked Mike into the Cattle Mutilation!” Riley continues on his tirade, as Craven fights off the attempts at what is now absolutely an attempt at an Million Dollar-plex. “Plus in the past, Mike’s already proven he’s too strong for Francis to get the cobra clutch on! Francis has tried that move in every match they’ve had and never hit it! I doubt he’d do it this time!”

     

    —But Craven proves Bobby Riley right and is too strong for Mak, so he can’t secure the wristlock necessary! The King of Nightmares swings a back elbow and connects jarring the challenger! A groggy Franchise can only look on, as a second back elbow finds its mark and makes him break the hold! Mike swings around behind Mak and secures a waistlock of his own!

     

    “See I was right!”

     

    “It ‘twas a nice standing switch, Bobby.”

     

    Craven takes the dazed Francis up overhead and down to the canvas in a German suplex, but he doesn’t let go rolling back up onto his feet! He locks one half nelson in, searching for the second one to complete his full nelson!

     

    “The Chimera suplex sequence is one of the Nightmares best attacks. It could end this match, but hopefully Craven will just continue to drop Mak on his head until he injures another of Mak’s vital body parts—first his leg and now his neck.”

     

    Mak continues to try and fight off the other half nelson attempt with an elbow to the face, but it’s a losing battle because the hold is almost hooked in and neutralizes that attacks effectiveness. Francis grazes the side of Craven’s head with his elbow and realizing it won’t work, tries to headbutt out of the hold, but he can’t! He has no way out and the full nelson is almost locked in… but Craven has a flashback and shoves the self proclaimed Franchise away with a sudden jolt.

     

    “Explain, you mental midget,” questions the would-be superhero. “Why did that miscreant Craven, release that maneuver and hit the other one?”

     

    “Because this situation was eerily familiar of their pay per view, match. Mak, the dastardly crowd whore that he is, countered this hold with multiple low blows, after distracting—no, flat out fooling junior referee, Billy Choida, into looking the other way, TWICE!”

     

    “Ah I see,” says Comet, “well then that was a surprisingly smart move. Both men dropped bombs, aimed at their opponents’ neck, which are weak spots, after Mak took a decapitator and Craven took the Demonstar driver. It’s a wonder he’s even standing after what I’ve heard about the move and remember about this Silent character.”

     

    “Yes, it was.”

     

    Francis falls to the ground, hard, face first, eating canvas, while Craven points to his head like he’s figured out all of Mak’s little tricks… which he has… so far… the Mak attack, now up on his hands and knees, gets grabbed by the head – Mike slowly lifting him up, but Francis, rearing back, gets some separation after a scintillating knife-edge chop!!

     

    *Smack!* WHOOOOOOOOOOO!

     

    Craven, surprised by the sudden attack, is stunned and doesn’t have enough time to even attempt to cover up from a second knife-edge chop!!

     

    *Smack!* WHOOOOOOOOOOO!

     

    Mak doubles Mike over with a toe kick to the gut, then grabs his opponent by the head and hits a forearm strike to the side of it, further stunning him and following up with an elbow to the back of his neck – or would have if hadn’t latched both his hands around the Franchise’s neck, before sitting down on his knees and driving Mak’s chin into the top of his head!! Francis’ head snaps back and he blinks for a few moments, stumbling around, until Craven, from a dash, flips forward from behind and attempts to yank the Franchise down to the mat—no, Mak hardly has enough time to regain his wits, but dodges somehow, like he knew the move was coming, causing Craven to land on the mat back first! “Aha!” shouts Comet. “It was Craven who scouted the Yakuza kick earlier, by this Franchisable face—but, this time it’s Mak Francis who did the scouting! Turn a bout is fair play and all that jazz, eh Riley?”

     

    Craven pushes himself up from the ground, trying to quickly get to his feet, as Francis stands poised, waving him up. “Watch out Craven, you’re to young and beautiful to be dropped on your head!” Mike stumbles to his feet and gets whipped around, directly into a sharp toe kick! Mak locks on the front facelock and signals for a DDT, but the Gulf Coast Hurricane, regains his wits and uses leverage to well, lever the Franchise up over top in a—

     

    “Northern Light suplex!” squeals Riley, overjoyed at this new turn of events in the favor of the challenger. “Mak Francis’ DDT attempt is countered into Northern Light suplex, with a bridge for the pin, no less!” Cyclone Comet looks on in surprise. “A fiendishly good counter from that fiend Craven! He may have joined the forces of EEEEEEVIL, but he is still an accomplished SWF wrestler.” Hebner drops to make the count, the crowd counting along with him…

     

    “ONNNEEE…!

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    TWOOOOOOOOOO…!

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    TH—OOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHH!”

     

     

    Suddenly the crowd gasps, as Francis seamlessly kicks out, forcing the King of Nightmares to fall, and then bridges up and out of his pinning predicament, amazing most of the audience!! “He bridged out… I cannot believe this…” mumbles Riley, as Comet himself is impressed. “Francis must have the heart of a hero to bridge out of such a situation. Although, he has yet to prove that he has superhero like qualities.”

     

    The two grapplers’ stress and strain, rotating around each other twice with linked arms, each man trying to gain some sort of advantage… and finally, the Gulf Coast Hurricane gets Mak into a facelock, before cradling his leg and planting him back first on the canvas, in a Fisherman’s Suplex!!!

     

    “ONNNEEE…!

     

     

     

     

     

    TWOOOOOOOOOO…!

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAHHHHHHH…

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    —NOOOOOOOO!”

     

    Mak Francis finds the strength to break the cradle and fall out of the pinning predicament! The crowd erupts in cheers at this development, and the King of Nightmares, looks none to pleased about this turn of events. “That dastardly Craven was trying to humiliate Francis by pinning him with a variation of his own finishing maneuver, the Franchise Tag!”

     

    “That’s what makes Mike such a better choice for Intercontinental Television champ. He knows how to not only beat his opponent in the center of the ring, he embarrasses them for all to see.”

     

    Michael Craven grabs Francis by his neck and violently lifts the self proclaimed Franchise, visibly upset that he couldn’t get the pin with his ‘perfect’-plex, the crisply executed Fisherman’s suplex! The Gulf Coast Hurricane stands Francis up, face to face, before burying a knee deep into his rib cage. As the Franchise wheezes, gasping for any amount of air, Craven loops behind the champion and smacks Mak across the back of the neck with a meaty forearm, to incapacitate him! His opponent stands, stunned and shook-up, while he locks in a full nelson to the Franchise and then proving his power advantage, he lifts Mak up to his feet stretching his ribs!

     

    “Michael Craven must be looking for his Red Fusion, a power that at this stage in the match will spell the end for the Franchise!”

     

    “Francis needs to be as slippery as an evil criminal mastermind—” Riley turns to Comet, taking his eye off the action. “You mean Wilson?”

     

    “Or a dreaded, James Bond villain—”

     

    “You DEFINITELY mean Wilson…”

     

    “Or even—yes Bobby, you pontificating pedophile of little boys, Chris Wilson.”

     

    “I take offense to that… I don’t preach—or chase little boys! Damnit now you got me all flustered you cape wearing freak!”

     

    “Hey,” shouts a pointing Mak, reenacting his rouse from the Pay per view, “isn’t that the Goodyear blimp?!”

     

    Even a slightly surprised Michael Craven would have rolled his eyes at the rehash attempt…

     

    The crowd keeps there eyes focused on the ring…

     

    Except the Craven Section that turns and looks…

     

     

     

    But the most important thing is that Mark Hebner looks, having not been the official at their 13th Hour match…

     

     

     

     

     

    *Ding!*

     

     

     

     

    The Franchise removes his leg from in between his opponents’ and Mike hunches over some in obvious pain!

     

    “While I don’t agree with his tactics, Mak Francis did break the hold, and turn-a-bout is fair play.” Says Comet, although, unlike the crowd, he isn’t reveling in Craven getting hit in the nuts. “Although Craven is inheritently bad, so that nut shot was brought to you by Pepsi Max, for that cool refreshing taste, nothing beats a Pepsi Max!”

     

    Mak loops behind the hurt Craven and locks in a half nelson... securing his wrist, before tossing him head over heels into the canvas with the move he could NEVER hit, in all there matches... the Cobra clutch suplex! Craven falls toward the ropes, looking nearly dead, as Mak crawls over to him, turns him over and covers, with the crowd counting along...

     

    “ONNNEEE…!

     

     

     

     

     

    TWOOOOOOOOOO…!

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAHHHHHHH…

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    —FOOT ON THE ROPES!!”

     

    “OH MY GOD! HOW DID CRAVEN KICK OUT AFTER TAKING A DEMONSTAR ONLY A FEW SHOWS AGO! HE IS MY HERO FOR TAKING THAT COBRA CLUTCH SUPLEX!”

     

    “I must agree. Craven is showing extreme guts. I am quiet pleasantly surprised.”

     

    Mak can’t believe it, asking the ref again, as Craven crawls toward the corner looking for some kind of break to heal up his neck! But Mak is back on him quickly stumbling into the corner and starting up ten corner punches! The crowd counts along, as Mak punches away…

     

    “ONE!

     

     

     

    TWO!

     

     

     

    THREE!

     

     

     

    FOUR!

     

     

    FIVE!

     

     

    SIXXXXXX—OHHHHHHHH!!!111!!11!”

     

    Shouts the crowd in fear as lumbers forward and absolutely plants ‘The Franchise’ Mak Francis into the mat, stacking him up in a pin!! Hebner flies into position, as the crowd counts along, in fear of a title change…

     

     

    “ONNNEEE…!

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    TWOOOOOOOOOO…!

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAHHHHHHH…

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    —NOOOOOOOO!”

     

    Francis pops off his shoulders, much like in his Ironman with Danny Williams and falls over onto his belly. “DAAAAAAAAAAMN!” yells Riley. “Woooooo-boy, how did he kick out of that?” asks Riley. “Let’s see that again…”

     

    A split screen graphic occurs, the right side showing the replay and the other showing real time action. While the real time action just has both Mike and Mak, lying on there back and stomach respectively, as Billy Chioda looks on in too much shock to start his ten count, the SWF Replay shows—

     

    ========

    SWF Replay

    ========

     

    Mak stands atop the corner, balancing himself on the second buckle, as he punches away—when suddenly, Craven loops his hands around the Franchise’s legs and waist, before pushing him up and walking into a slight sprint, and then dropping him unceremoniously down to the canvas… WITH AUTHORITY~!

     

    ========

    End Replay

    ========

     

    ”Francis has true heart and determination!”

     

    “…I don’t see how he kicked out…”

     

    “HEART and DETERMINATION, you fool! Didn’t I just say that?”

     

    “Those are overrated. I think he paid off the ref. Hebner, did he pay you!” heckles Riley, as both men lie on the canvas, Mak staying on his stomach, breathing heavily and grimacing in pain, while Mike sits up and holds his neck, obviously aggravated from Francis’ attacks on his neck, not to mention, actually taking a friggin’ Demonstar Driver! Craven, still holding onto his neck, apparently not doing that much better than Francis at this point, starts to move and then he pushes himself up, backing into the ropes! Meanwhile, Mak has made it to a corner and still clutching his rib cage, uses the ropes, to pull himself up! Mak uses the corner as a crutch, as Craven walks over to him and tries to pull him out in an Irish whip, but the Franchise won’t let go off the ropes. Craven winds up and hits Francis with a—

     

    *Whap!*

     

    —Strike that allows him to complete the whip! Mak flies towards the turnbuckles on the diagonal and stops himself, slowing his momentum by leaping onto the second buckle. Mak turns around, as Craven comes charging in, but tries to stop!

     

    “Cross body by the Franchise—no, roll-through, ROLL THROUGH BY CRAVEN! KINGDOME COME BABY!!” shouts Riley, as the Gulf Coast Hurricane rolls through and stands, attempting to lift Mak into Fireman’s Carry! “Blocked!” counters Cyclone Comet, as Mak grabs Craven about the head in a front facelock, trying anything and everything to stay out of the ‘Kingdome Come’!! Craven powers through though lifting Mak up into the air for the ‘Kingdom Come’, but the Franchise has an ace up his sleeve and shifts his weight pulling Michael down into a DDT!

     

    “WHATTACOUNTER! Oh my! He’s not letting go! There it is folks!”

     

    “What? A grounded front facelock? How that going to do anything?!!”

     

    Craven shakes under the pressure, as Francis raps his legs around him in a body scissors taking away all movement! Mike attempts to power out, but after taking a Cobra clutch suplex and a Demonstar Driver, no matter how long ago it was… his neck is just too weak to stand up to the pain!

     

     

    TAP!

     

     

    TAP!

     

     

    TAP~!!!

     

     

    “The winner of this bout, by submission… … your REIGNING, SMARKS WRESTLING FEDERATION INTERCONTINENTAL TELEVISION CHAMPION… “THE FRANCHISE” MAAAAK FRAAAANCISsssssss!”

     

    Mak releases the hold and falls flat onto his back, as Craven rolls over and holds his neck center ring! Mark Hebner, as seems to be customary in Mak Francis match drapes the belt over the Franchise on the ground, as the crowd cheers. “What a great main event Bobby Riley. I must admit that Michael Craven put on quite a good showing here tonight, but in the end Mak Francis’ ability to adapt and pull out a brilliant counter won out.” Comments Comet, as the pain of battle is eched on both mens faces when SWF Storm comes to a close! “Well for, *sigh* CYCLOOOOOOOOONE COMET, I’m Bobby Riley and goodnight from SWF Storm!

     

    SWF Storm©

    A White Apple© Production


  8. As we come back from commercial break, we are treated to the dubious privilege of the Suicide King himself, in the middle of this very ring. King spins in place, making sure that everyone gets a good look at the undisputed Commish. The boos from all corners of the arena make it quite clear that the fans in attendance have an unblocked view of the egomaniac in action.

     

    Riley clears his throat nervously, "Welcome back! If you are just joining us, you missed a tremendous match between Andrew Blackwell and William Hearford that contained no questionable sexual overtones whatsoever! And now we are graced by the presence of our very own Commissioner who claims to have an important announcement. And before he begins, I would like to take this chance to say that I love my job, I love the Suicide King, and if my new partner knows what's good for him he will quickly learn to tow the company line!"

     

    Comet merely shakes his head with grave concern. "I know that I have been gone for a while, and that in my absence many things have occurred that would drive a good man to drink, but I truthfully find it hard to believe that the man before me has degenerated into such a human abscess, a lesion on the skin of humanity, a rotten, stinking, pus-filled example of villainy! And he used to be such a good boy too!"

     

    "Boy, you have been gone awhile. Anyway, his Royal Heelishness has something to say!"

     

    King idly taps the microphone once to get everyone's attention. "Now, if you don't mind?"

     

    Unsurprisingly the boos continue. King appears to be in good humor about it though, idly spinning his microphone from hand to hand in mock impatience. Eventually the heat dies down...

     

    "Good Mormons. Now, as you know our big yearly show is coming up, Genesis 4! And with my recent cutting away of some dead weight, we're poised to make a bigger splash than ever before! But this does raise some interesting questions, many of which I have seen posted on the reputable internet wrestling sites, right in between 'Triple H stole Baby Jesus's Milk' and 'Puroresu Would Be So Much Better If They Just Spoke English.' With the recent depopulation of the SWF main event, what will King do at Genesis? Who will face Strangler, assuming the monkey retains that long? TNT is injured, Flesher is on sabbatical, Frost and Thoth walked out!"

     

    "Well, in times of crisis in every federation, you don't look to the old guard for help, you look to the future! You look for the next big thing! Well, I'm tired of waiting for the cream to rise! Time to MAKE the freaking cream rise, I say!"

     

    "I am announcing tonight, that staritng next week you will witness the first round of a federation wide tournament to decide who will face the SWF champion at Genesis! The last tournament leading to Genesis led to the rise of such luminaries as El Luchador Magnifico and myself. I have every confidence that the winner of this one will go on to such lofty heights as well!"

     

    "24 participants, including 5 JLers who will have the chance of a lifetime, will compete against each other in a double elimination tournament. Sadly some of our standard mainstays such as TNT and Tom Flesher can't participate due to niggling injuries, and Wildchild and Va'aiga have other committments. But you will bear witness to a preponderance of pure wrestling talent, as everyone competes for a chance at the big prize! I had to fire the graphics guy earlier today, but if I hadn't a really cool bracket set up would appear on the Smarktron." King waves his hand dismissingly.

     

    "Double elimination, to insure that the real talent rises and the flukes fall! Federation wide, to give fair chances to everyone on matter whom! Singles matches for the purists! Elimination triple threats for excitement!"

     

    King opens his mouth as if to continue, but somethin appears to occur to him... "But perhaps I've said too much. If you want to find out more, you'll just have to tune in to the next show, won't you my obedient little couch monkeys?"

     

    With that, King casually tosses the microphone out of the ring and slides out under the ropes, accompanied by the heat that only several thousand Mormons can produce. Riley and Comet look at each other, each apparently unsure what to say. Comet finally opens his mouth, but before anything escapes the producer experiences a sudden precognitive insight and cuts away to a commercial break before Comet gets himself fired too...


  9. - Riley "And we're back folks with SWF Storm. I'm Bobby Riley and sitting next to me is-"

     

    - Comet "CYYYYYCLONE COOOOOOMET!"

     

    This instantly gets a wild response from the fans behind the announcing duo! Comet stands up on his seat and holds his arms out wide, as a giant fan is rolled into place by several indentured SWF servants. His cape flutters triumphantly in the breeze as Bobby puts his head in his hands and groans.

     

    - Riley "Oh lord, take me now..."

     

    - Comet "Now, now Mr. Riley, I wouldn't want you to leave before this next match. Pray tell Bobby, which fine SWF competitors will heed the call of battle next?"

     

    - Riley "Well, first we have "The Sacred One" Andrew Blackwell-"

     

    - Comet "Why, fellow regenerate, fair citizen Sacred? Huzzah! It has been too long since we've last crossed paths! This shall be a treat!"

     

    - Riley "Somehow Cyclone, I doubt you'll like what 'fair citizen' Sacred has become..."

     

    Almost on cue, the picture on the TV screen, SmarkTron, everywhere in the arena begin to distort, making strange noises, beginning to break apart... This continues as a familiar voice, deep, dark and incredibly creepy comes over the speakers and fills the arena, and everyone in it with a chill.

     

    "There is nothing wrong with your television set... Do not attempt to adjust the picture..."

     

    "I will control the vertical... I will control the horizontal..."

     

    "I am controlling transmission..."

     

    Our resident superhero announcer climbs to his feet and puts his hands on his hips, looking out amongst the crowd who jeer with their all at the man still unknown to Comet.

     

    - Comet "What is this? What villainy is afoot here this evening?! Who is this thorn in the side of justice?!"

     

    - Riley "That... would be our fair Mr. Blackwell, back, and better than ever!"

     

    - Comet "He has... strayed from the course of honour, of justice?!"

     

    - Riley "It's been that way for a long, long time my deranged friend."

     

    - Comet "The face of justice is not deranged my fair fairy!"

     

    -Riley "Wait... what-"

     

    - Comet "But this is most distressing, disheartening even! Though I must only past judgment until I witness his actions with my own two eyes, tonight!"

     

    The picture finally returns to normal, but the arena is soon bathed in darkness, until numerous spotlights at the side of the stage suddenly burst to life, and slowly turn to the entranceway. They cast an eerie glow on the Sacred One as he walks out to listen to his followers, and detractors. Andrew only smiles as the crowd gives him a verbal barrage, taunting him as much as they can as he walks down the ramp way, and into the ring, climbing to his feet in front of Funyon, who takes an uncomfortable step back under the gaze of Andrew Blackwell.

     

    - Funyon "The following match is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first, from Adelaide Australia. He stands 6 foot 1, and weighs in at 231 pounds. Ladies and Gentleman, please welcome, The Sacred One... ANDREW BLAAAAACKWEEEEELL!"

     

    Comet is visibly dumbstruck by the raucous response from the crowd!

     

    - Comet "What could Sacred have done to deserve such a negative reaction?! No, I must put this out of my mind and concentrate on this match, which reminds me... who will Sacred be facing in the ring, citizen Riley?"

     

    - Riley "Judge-"

     

    - Comet "Ah! A Judge of the peace! A bastion for justice in our fair legal system! Finally, someone who follows in my footsteps!"

     

    - Riley "... Mental. Judge Mental, William Hearford Comet, of the Magnificent 7! And a Magnificent specimen if I do say so myself, and I do! It's only a matter of time before Justice and Rule win back those tag team titles..."

     

    - Comet "Magnificent 7... those villainous scoundrels! Why would a Judge be mixed up in that dastardly group dedicated to mischief and mayhem..."

     

    - Riley "But, you see, it's a play on words. Get it? Judge - Mental... Judgmental-"

     

    - Comet "Absolute devils I say!"

     

    - Riley "Argh! You have the mind of a child!"

     

    Speaking of the Judge, his entrance is proceeded by an arena lit bright red, and the slow drum beats of Testify by Rage Against the Machine rumble throughout the crowd, causing them to shake in their little space boots. Climbing gradually to an eventual crescendo, the drumbeat becomes louder as the drums are struck louder, and a cymbal is struck...

     

    And then... silence...

     

    - Comet "A Judge...?"

     

    Before...

     

    "NOW TESTIFY!"

     

    Pyros EXPLODE at either side of the stage, kicking the song forward to the middle before none other than the Judge himself, William Hearford appears on center stage to a disgruntled and heated roar from the capacity crowd!

     

    - Funyon "... And his opponent! He hails from Royal Oak Michigan. Standing 6 foot 3 and weighing 242 pounds, ladies and gentleman, put your hands together for a member of the Magnificent 7, The Judge... WILLIAM HEEEAAARRRFFFOOORRRRDDD!"

     

    In his usual precise and deliberate manner, Judge Mental walks out from behind the curtain, simply smirking the fans who shout to him that his time is up, an over the hill hack. Knowing this to be untrue, Hearford continues walking in his confident stride, rolling under the bottom rope and into the ring, climbing to his feet, turning his back to Sacred and beginning to stretch for the upcoming encounter.

     

    - Riley "Both men fell victim to the unlikely victor in Michael Craven at Ground Zero, and the actions of fair and honest Judge Mental in that match prompted a challenge from the Australian!"

     

    - Comet "This man gives justice a black eye! This new breed of wrestler is one I do not like at all! Only few stand for good in these tumultuous times! But still, my loyalty remains with Mr. Blackwell, oh what fun we used to have with old Mercury, and Axis! Whatever happened to my giant Aussie friend?"

     

    Riley simply smiles and laughs, pointing in Sacred's direction.

     

    - Riley "That man, broke his leg in two."

     

    Funyon quickly slides out of the ring, afraid to stand between two dangerous rivals, who stand across from each other, each with a confident smile as the referee, Mark Hebner points to ringside...

     

    - Comet "That bothers me little, citizen Riley, I still pledge my support for the man who helped me in my fight for justice, no matter how long ago!"

     

    - Riley "... But, he broke his leg! It was disgusting, horrible, disgusting! How can that not bother you?!"

     

    - Comet "To tell you the truth citizen Riley, I did not like Axis all that much, though I am afraid to admit it. His obsession with 'Jews' and Pepsi max was bordering on insanity!"

     

    Behind Comet stands Axis, tears forming in his eyes before he balls his yes out and runs away in embarrassment.

     

    DING! DING! DING!

     

    And this match is underway! Though a slow, feeling out process is soon the order of the day as the two grizzled veterans of many a battle circle, feigning attack then withdrawing, attempting to find a hole in the others defense.

     

    - Riley "Though both are proficient technical wrestlers, Judge has FAR more experience from his many years in the business."

     

    - Comet "Oh, and as I know Bobby, if you turn your back on a man like him, he'll have you on the flat of your back in no time! I fear he may prove too much for Sacred too handle!"

     

    -Riley "But Blackwell does have one advantage, one tactic under his belt he can pull out if the time comes, and it may throw Hearford off his game, if only for a moment!"

     

    Suddenly, both men charge at each other and enter an elbow and collar tie up! Judge has strength on his side, but Sacred has his youth, and a stalemate soon arises, and both push each other away in frustration. Taking the clear and logical step he can think of, Blackwell attempts to take Judge's head off with a spinning kick! Hearford manages to duck this, and as Blackwell turns around William locks his arm underneath his opponents, attempting a hip toss... but it's blocked! Sacred spins in front of Judge until he's the other side of him with his opposite arm locked with Hearford's!

     

    That's blocked as well! Judge tries to same as Sacred, but Blackwell also manages to counter. With no room to move near the ropes, Sacred simply keeps his arm locked with Judge's but he then grabs him by the head with his opposite arm and throws him head first into the turnbuckles!

     

    - Comet "Neither man could out do the other with orthodox technical moves, so Blackwell does something completely unorthodox as he slams the face of injustice into the turnbuckles!"

     

    - Riley "Blackwell's entire style is unorthodox, but more often than not, we've seen it work."

     

    A few stiff forearms to the face later, Sacred Twists Hearford's arm around to wind him up, then whips the Judge across the ring into the opposite corner, with so much force he hits, and literally bounces back from the impact! Blackwell waits with open arms, kicking Hearford in the breadbasket before lifting him up with a vertical Suplex! The Aussie tries to bring Judge down on his shoulder with a Stunner, but Judge falls back behind Blackwell on two feet, slinking his arms around the Sacred One's waist!

     

    - Comet "Despite his age and his evil ways, Hearford is rather fleet afoot! Now he pushes Blackwell into the ropes..."

     

    But lunging forward, Sacred wraps his arms around the top rope to put on the brakes, causing the 42 year old to be flung back across the mat! Hearford rolls to his feet however, but is not quick enough to catch Blackwell before he leaps onto his shoulders and flips over, rolling the Judge up with a Hurricanrana!

     

    - Riley "And Andrew surprises him with the West Coast Pop! That literally came out of nowhere, and took Judge completely by surprise!"

     

    ONE!

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    TWO!

     

    But Judge pushes his legs out and Blackwell away from him!

     

    - Comet "Two count only! But Judge was clearly taken back by that sudden burst of energy from Sacred!"

     

    - Riley "That's the trick Sacred can pull out of the bag if he needs to. Judge would slowly work him over in a straight technical bout, so instead of risking that, he switches things off and uses a move high-flying oriented offence!"

     

    - Comet "I have to say Bobby, it certainly is a pleasure to see you so enthused and informative!"

     

    - Riley "Unfortunately, someone has to be level headed, of stable mind from time to time... but don't get too comfortable!"

     

    Judge rolls back to his feet in an instant, but is clearly confused, and literally on the back foot as he has to meet a charge from Blackwell. Hearford lowers his head, but Blackwell simply leapfrogs over the top of him and hits the opposite strands. As he returns, Blackwell attempts to leap around Judge, grabbing his arm at the same time, as the other is trapped between his legs! Hearford is awake to Blackwell's plan, and blocks the Crucifix Pin as he lowers his head and throws Andrew in front of him, unfortunately the Aussie lands on both feet!

     

    The spring in Sacred's step is shown again as he leaps up onto Judge's shoulders, attempting yet another Hurricanrana! Judge will not be taken for a fool two times in a row though, and grabs Blackwell's legs as he tries to flip over! All of a sudden, the Australian loves his weight forward and springs back onto Judge's shoulders, continuing to roll through, falling behind Hearford and trying to take him down with a sunset flip!

     

    No! Hearford manages to keep his feet! Sacred is in a precarious position, his arms still holding Judge by the waist with his arched back as he tries to keep his feet, but Judge soon puts a stop to that as he turns back around, grabs Blackwell around the neck in an inverted face lock and sits out with an Inverted DDT!

     

    ONE!

     

     

     

     

     

    TW!

     

    But Sacred kicks out!

     

    - Riley "Judge didn't get enough purchase on that move, it was more to quell the resistance from Blackwell."

     

    The Judge climbs back onto his feet, taking time to recover as Andrew slowly rolls back onto his feet, holding the back of his head from the hard impact. Suddenly, Judge takes a few steps towards the Australian, rearing back in the process...

     

    WHOO!

     

    And connecting with a knife-edge chop!

     

    WHOO!

     

    And another!

     

    WHOO!

     

    - Comet "Ooh! And the venomous hand of Injustice is struck across Sacred's chest like a fiery mistress of... of..."

     

    - Riley "... Injustice?"

     

    - Comet "Exactly! I'll convert you from the side of evil yet Bobby, and together, we'll fight the enemies of justice through the airwaves!"

     

    - Riley "... Mark only poked fun at the fact I was gay,

     

    Bobby suddenly turns around as the fans erupt.

     

    Riley - "Which I am NOT by the way! Ahem, but this, THIS, is much worse..."

     

    Justice backs Sacred into the ropes, and one Irish Whip later and Sacred is hitting the opposite ropes, making his return. Before Hearford can do a single thing, Blackwell explodes half way across the ring, striking him in the jaw with a flying forearm! Judge collapses to the mat, but rolls right back to his feet, but Sacred keeps the pressure with more forearms to the jaw! Judge rocks back, stunned by the sudden burst of blows, and Sacred takes advantage of this as he leaps onto Judge's shoulders, snapping him back down across the canvas with an Ankle Scissors!

     

    This snapping motion throws Judge's equilibrium off slightly as he rolls back onto his feet, staggering towards Sacred who kicks him in the stomach, and shoves him into a standing headscissors!

     

    - Riley "This is For My Fallen Angel! Judge is certainly on the proverbial back-foot as Sacred continues to pepper him with hit and run tactics."

     

    - Comet "Oh fair lady Anna, the lord works in mysterious ways... But I knew there was still a good and noble spirit in Sacred! And injustice is about to be taken for a ride!"

     

    - Riley "Are you going to call him that all night?"

     

    Try as he might, Sacred cannot make Judge budge from his spot! The crafty 42 year old has his arms locked around Blackwell's legs, holding him in place! Blackwell tries to heave Judge upward again, but Judge lands back down on two feet, and as he does, counters old school style with a back body drop!

     

    - Comet "And another counter from the veteran of Injustice! I admire his ability to counter in even the most dire of situations!"

     

    - Riley "Oh, the situation isn't dire quite yet Comet, but it might be now!"

     

    Blackwell whirls right back to his feet, off balance only a little, but able to keep his cool before bringing his arm back, spreading his fingers apart...

     

    WHOO!

     

    ... Lashing across Hearford's bare chest with a knife-edge chop!

     

    WHOO!

     

    Another vicious chop!

     

    WHOO!

     

    - Riley "It looks like Blackwell is trying to put as much power behind his chops as Judge had put earlier!"

     

    WHOO!

     

    - Comet "The open hand of justice will smite this evildoer back to the depths in which he came!"

     

    - Riley "... Blackwell is EVIL, Comet, not a bastion of justice. He's evil like Dr Claw, or Gargamele. Do you like Inspector Gadget? And the Smurfs?"

     

    - Comet "Don't be silly Bobby, those are fictitious characters! I still hold out hope for Sacred!"

     

    - Riley "Fictitious maybe, but so is A.C Slater."

     

    - Comet "... And?"

     

    - Riley "I dunno, forgot what my argument was."

     

    The final chop is one that's so hard; it knocks Hearford to the mat! He rolls back to his feet instantly, but Blackwell tries to knock him out for good with a running forearm! Judge ducks under this in the nick of time, and as Blackwell charges through, grabs him by the waist and underneath the leg, lifting him up and over with a back drop Suplex!

     

    But Sacred flips out like out resident SWF superhero!

     

    - Comet "A mark of a true hero, the ability to fly!"

     

    - Riley "And land safely back on his feet, no less... Ooh! And Blackwell nails Judge in the back of the head with a flipping dropkick!"

     

    The blow sends Hearford stumbling chest first into the strands, and they propel him back to Sacred, who lowers his head and grabs Judge, lifting him up... and bringing him down with a Back Drop!

     

    - Riley "Blackwell has sent a clear message to Judge; anything you can do, I can do better!"

     

    Blackwell stands over Judge, lifting his arms up by his legs and tucking his head forward, pressing himself forward and pinning Hearford down with the Kidou Clutch!

     

    ONE!

     

     

     

     

     

    TWO!

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    THHHHR!

     

    But Judge kicks out!

     

    Blackwell ears back onto his feet, taking Judge by the air and lifting him up, throwing him into the corner. The Australian tries to maul the Judge with forearms, but soon Hearford replies with a European Uppercut! No, two uppercuts! Blackwell fires a forearm, Hearford an uppercut, and finally the crowd cheer as they watch the two filthy cretin's trade stiff blows!

     

    - Comet "It's so good to hear the crowd finally cheer for something! To celebrate, I think we need some Pepsi MAX!"

     

    - Riley "That's you’re 10th tonight... you've mixed scotch into those haven't you?"

     

    - Comet "Don't be silly! A man of justice would never dare drink scotch! Tequila maybe, but never scotch."

     

    - Riley "... I think I'm beginning to see the picture. You're not insane, just a incredibly happy drunk."

     

    As Hearford attempts to thro another shot, Blackwell blocks it with his forearm and takes Judge by the hand, whipping him across the ring! But Sacred keeps hold of William's arm and brings him back with a short arm whip, before heading low and dropkicking Judge in the knee!

     

    With Justice doubled over and his arm still being held on to, Blackwell locks him into a front face lock, in the position for a Tiger Neck Chancre, but more importantly... the Cruel Fate! The crowd rises to their feet as Blackwell lifts his left leg upward, ready to swing in back and slam Justice down...

     

    - Comet "A move I know all too well! If he hits this devastating maneuver, it's all over red rover!"

     

    But before he can, Hearford suddenly twists his body around, grabbing Blackwell by the leg at the same time, taking him down to the canvas with a Dragon Screw!

     

    - Riley "Such an ingenious counter! Hearford caught Sacred by the leg as it was lifted, and took him down! Wait, what's he have planned now..."

     

    Keeping hold of the same leg, Hearford spins around, then takes Sacred by he opposite leg, dropping down onto his back and hooking his leg over the free ankle, locking on a figure four! A roar from the crowd is heard as Sacred cries out in pain, and Judge grits his teeth, trying to put as much pressure on as he can. Blackwell slams his palms on the mat, desperate to get away, but Judge keeps him in place!

     

    - Comet "A Figure Four of ultimate injustice and suffering! A Judge of the peace he certainly not be, and he won't hear fair Blackwell's plea's!"

     

    - Riley "Stop it you freak! Argh! Ugh, anyway! Judge begins to work on the leg already, just trying to slow Sacred down somehow, and it seems to be working like a charm."

     

    But alas, the hold is held for much longer, as Blackwell digs his fingernails in the mat and begins to turn himself over, despite Judge's best and toughest efforts. Hebner leans in closely as the two are now on their sides, and Sacred need only topple over an inch...

     

    And reverse the hold! Knowing his exact ring position though, Judge lunge forward and grabs the bottom rope, and Blackwell is forced to break the hold after Hebner's count of five! Judge breathes a sigh of relief as he uses the ropes to help him back to his feet, as Sacred climbs to his as well. He limps on his leg slightly, and Judge only makes it worse as he kicks his knee and lifts him up by the ankle, bringing it back down across his knee!

     

    - Riley "And now he can finally display his technical prowess as he attacks the left leg, using that opening to get himself back into the match."

     

    While Sacred hops on one leg, running his ankle and whimpering, Judge catches him and corals him, throwing his arm over his shoulder and gripping his belt, Suplexing Sacred over in one fluid motion with a sweet Snap Suplex! Judge rolls back over and into a lateral press!

     

    ONE!

     

    TWO!

     

    But Sacred rolls a shoulder from off of the mat! Judge takes Blackwell by the neck again and lifts him off the mat, lifting him up into a vertical Suplex! Judge, using his superior weight 'n strength, begins to spin around! But Blackwell gets free and lands back on his feet! He lands awkwardly though and clutches his leg, giving Hearford enough time to lock his arms around his waist, cross his arms over and lift him up, falling backwards...

     

    - Riley "Straightjacket Suplex! Simply beautiful move, done to perfection by the Judge! And he holds on with the bridge!"

     

    - Comet "Filthy knave! I ought to take matters into my own hands!"

     

    ONE!

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    TWO!

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    THHHHH!

     

    But Sacred rolls a shoulder from off of the mat! Keeping his waist lock applied, Judge rolls back onto his feet, attempting another Cross-Armed German! But Sacred blocks it by wrapping his ankle around the Judge's! Blackwell simply won't budge as Judge tries to heave him up and over, but his last attempt fails, and Sacred manages to break his arms free, taking Hearford by the head and using his own back to flip Judge over! But he lands on his feet easily! William hits a simple mule kick to double Sacred over, and pivots around, hooking arm underneath Blackwell's and pushing his palm into his face, screw up his handsome features.

     

    Riley Sighs.

     

    - Riley "Shame... Uh, I mean, Judge Hearford is ready for the closing arguments!"

     

    Before he can push Blackwell down to the mat however, Sacred knees Hearford in the gut and breaks away! He suddenly hooks his arm underneath Judge's and tries for the Spanish Inquisition! Hearford growls and knocks Blackwell away with a few well placed back elbows, and as Andrew stumbles away, turns around and charges with a lariat! But Sacred ducks the wild clothesline, and as he and Judge turn back to each other, the Australian connects with a Spinning Kick to the face!

     

    - Comet "Speaking of simply beautiful moves, that kick caught Hearford in the face! The evildoer goes down for the count once again! But I fear Blackwell put too much strain on that leg of his pulling that move out of desperation..."

     

    Into the cover now, and Hebner bangs his palm on the canvas...

     

    ONE!

     

     

     

     

     

    TWO!

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    TTTTT!

     

    No! Judge draws his shoulder from the mat and breaks the count! Blackwell groans, leaving Hearford immediately for the safety of the corner where he stamps his foot on the mat, trying to get some feeling back into the afflicted limb. The crowd grows tense as they wait for the next move, excited though they loathe both men. Blackwell's eyes look down at his leg, and then gaze upon Judge as he climbs onto his feet, revenge in mind as he begins to run towards the Magnificent Hearford!

     

    Sacred leaps into the air, catching Judge around the neck with his ankles! But Hearford takes Andrew by the ankles and yanks them from his shoulders, throwing the Australian face first onto the mat! He gingerly climbs back to his feet, but Judge takes him by the left leg with a simple face first take down to the mat. He circles around Blackwell, simply waiting for him to climb back to his feet, and as Andrew does, he applies a hammerlock and locks on a half nelson, throwing Sacred over his head...

     

    - Riley "Hammerlock Suplex! God that looked absolutely brutal! Working the knee gave Judge a foot hold into the match, and now it looks as if he's taking control!"

     

    - Comet "Evil can never take control! Sacred has plenty of fight left in him yet!"

     

    But the crowd climbs onto their feet collectively, sensing the end may be near as Judge hooks Sacred by the leg!

     

    ONE!

     

     

     

     

     

    TWO!

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    THRRRRRRRRR!

     

    NO! The Australian breaks the count and rolls away!

     

    Feeling superior and brimming with confidence, William Hearford stalks Blackwell, as just as Andrew places his hand on the second rope to help himself back up, Judge grabs him by the back of head and lifts him back up himself, taking him by the hand and taking him across the ring with an Irish Whip. As Blackwell returns, Judge lowers his head, catching Andrew by the legs and lifting him into the air...

     

    Slamming him down with a Spinebuster! As soon as Blackwell hits the canvas, Hearford hooks his arms underneath Andrew's legs fully, lifting the Australian from the mat slightly as he tries to push him forward.

     

    - Riley "Liontamer! Liontamer! If he locks his on, it's all over for Sacred!"

     

    - Comet "You dare speak those words citizen Riley?! An injured leg means nothing when you fight for truth, justice and the American way!"

     

    - Riley "...But he's AUSTRALIAN! And he's EVIL! Damn it, listen to me and put the Pepsi down!"

     

    The strain already takes it toll on Sacred who yells out, cursing Judge who simply smiles through his determined features, trying to synch in the hold even further, bending Sacred's back into impossible angles! Blackwell shakes his head as Hebner gets in his face, and even asks him to join the Experiment, but Hebner politely declines before asking him the question again.

     

    - Riley "Hearford is fiercely determined, he won't let another victory slip from his grasp so easily!"

     

    But before William can dig his knee into Blackwell's back, the Australian presses himself up from the mat with both hands, struggling forward as he tries to fight through the searing pain. The ropes are so close, but Judge won't let go!

     

    With one final lunge, Sacred desperately tries to clutch onto the bottom rope...

     

    - Hebner "Break it up Judge!"

     

    ... And he gets there! Hearford scowls as Hebner counts to five, before trying to pry the Judge away from the injured Blackwell! But Hearford simply lets him go and stalks Hebner, daring him to interfere again. Blackwell climbs back onto his feet, but Judge catches him with a European uppercut, and then another, before kicking the Australian in the stomach...

     

    ...Ducking underneath Sacred's arm and locking his arms around his waist, taking Blackwell over with a Northern Lights Suplex!

     

    RAHHHHHH!

     

    - Riley "Judge looks ready to finish Sacred off, hitting the first of THREE Northern Lights Suplexes!"

     

    - Comet "No! I cannot bear to see the forces of evil win on my first night back in this federation! Sacred simply MUST counter somehow!"

     

    But Judge wheels back onto his feet, and lifts Sacred back up, throwing Blackwell over with another Suplex!

     

    RAHHHHH!

     

    The fans are up and roaring as Judge slowly climbs back up for the Coup de grace, setting himself to lift Blackwell over one last time...

     

    ... But the Aussie holds his ground! Judge grumbles as he tries again, but with no luck!

     

    - Riley "How?! Does Judge not have enough energy left in him?! That's impossible!"

     

    - Comet "Sacred still has some fight left in him yet! Bless his noble heart!"

     

    Indeed he does as he attempts to lift Judge into the air from his current position, but this time, Hearford is the one who stands firm! Judge spins his body around and hooks his hands around Blackwell's neck

     

    - Riley "SURPSISE WITNESS! YES!"

     

    But Sacred shrugs Hearford away and pushes him into the ropes! Judge bounces back from them, clearly pissed off, he tries to knock Blackwell' head off with a...

     

    - Comet "LLAAARRRRIIIIAAAATTTTOOOOO! OF EEEVVVIIILLLL!"

     

    ... But Blackwell ducks under this, takes Judge by both arms and locks on a Double Chickenwing! Judge immediately drops to one knee to block the Narcosynthesis, but Blackwell has other plans in mind, letting his right arm go and spinning Judge around, lifting his leg into the air and swinging it back suddenly and violently...

     

    Nailing Judge with the CUREL FATE!

     

    - Comet "Haha! I knew justice would win out in the end! Sacred hits the Cruel Fate, and rolls into the cover!"

     

    Hebner makes the count, and the fans chant every time his hand hits the mat!

     

    "ONE!"

     

     

     

     

     

    "TWO!"

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    "THREEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

     

    That's it! The bell rings and the noise is deafening!

     

    DING! DING! DING!

     

    - Funyon "The winner of this match... The Sacred One, ANDREW BLLLAAACCCKKKWWEEEELLLL!"

     

    The Australian quickly rolls away, blood trickling from his nose and his leg aching like all hell, but the fans cheer for the hot finish, then suddenly boo as they realize who won, but Blackwell simply smiles, wiping the blood away as he walks back up the ramp.

     

    - Riley "Damn it! Judge was SO CLOSE! But Sacred's unpredictable nature was Hearford's undoing, and cost him the match! But this was a great match, and I hope these two cross paths again soon..."

     

    - Comet "For once I'll agree with you citizen Riley, but for now, we must go to a commercial break of JUSTICE!"

     

    - Riley "Seriously man..."

     

    - Comet "So sports fans, don't change that channel!"

     

    And we slowly fade out...


  10. Cyclone: "Welcome back good people to SWF Storm."

     

    Riley: "Do you have to keep doing that Comet?"

     

    Cyclone: "Of course I do, what better way to plug the righteous causes than by spreading the message with SWF announcing? "

     

    Riley: "Of god, why me. I get rid of Stevens, then this?"

     

    Cyclone: "Anyway, must focus on the matches. We've got a match going up pits one of the new Tag Team Champs against a former champ. I'm not so sure I like this whole Unholy thing this Dace guy is a part of..."

     

    Riley: "Good man Cyclone, just keep thinking that way!"

     

    Cyclone: "But if Quiz was anything to go by, with Show character can't be that good a guy."

     

    Riley: "Damn Superheros and their morals. Stupid people. Do you have to wear that mask while you're here as well?"

     

    Cyclone: "Of course citizen Riley, encase there is an emergency and I'm needed during the show. Quiet now, here comes Funyon the good man. "

     

    Funyon: "Ladies and Gentlemen, the following one on one match will be for one fall...."

     

    RRRRRAAAAAAHHHHH!

     

    Funyon: "Introducing first, from Tampa Bay, Florida, weighing in at two hundred and fifty two pounds ... representing the Unholy Trinity ... DACE 'HORRORCORE' NIGHT!"

     

    YYYYAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!

     

    Justifiable Homicide roars into life over the sound system as the ramp is covered by a cloud of black smoke, as the red lights flash across it. Walking through the smoke, Dace tags hands with his fans on the way down the ramp.

     

    Sliding under the bottom rope, he sprints across the ring and climbs the turnbuckles, throwing the horns to the crowd, as he cracks a smile at the image of Cyclone Comet sitting at the announce desk.

     

    Funyon: "His opponent, from Studio Three B, weighing in at two hundred and ninety nine pounds ... one half of the SWF TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS ... SHOW!"

     

    "Show Come On Down!"

     

    BBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOO!

     

    Come on Down kicks into life over the pa system, as the Wheel o Fortune board on the screen roles back to reveal Show. Then a sliding door pulls back to reveal the Chevy Chase look a like, mike in hand.

     

    Show: "Tonight's question is, whom is the loser here? I believe the answer is ... Dace Night!"

     

    The Wheel o Fortune rolls back again to show the words Dace Night.

     

    Throwing the mike away, Show strides down the ramp, Tag Title around his waist. Handing over to the time keeper, he climbs the apron and steps into the ring to face Horrorcore.

     

    Referee Nick Soapdish signals for the bell, as the two advance on each other.

     

    DING, DING, DING!

     

    Leaping the gun at the starting block, Dace throws his whole body weight forwards into a full force charge, in an attempt to Yakuza Kick Show's head into the seventh row, but the Game Show Player desperately scrambles to the side and backing himself into the ropes before bounding back.

     

    RRRAAAHHHHH--HHHHHOOOOO

     

    Slinging himself back from the ropes as well, Dace rushes back across the ring as Show comes towards him at a right angle, swinging his elbow forwards, but Night reaches out and grabs onto the Tag Champ before they collide and whips him off again across the ring.

     

    Spreading his arms, Horrorcore latches onto Show as he comes flying back, trying to launch him around and overhead with a Powerslam, but Show hammers his clubbing fists into Dace's back, then quickly clamps on a Front Facelock, grabbing a handful of Dace's tights drags him up into the air.

     

    BBBBBBOOOOOOOOOO!

     

    Kicking his legs to shift his body weight, Dace counters the Suplex, landing on his feet behind the Chevy Chase look alike. Quickly turning to his side, Night hooks an arm through Show's leg, pulling him backwards onto his shoulders.

     

    YYYYYAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!

     

    Riley: "Oh jesus no!"

     

    But Show throws his weight around, keeping his feet on the mat and force them to stand back to back. At the same time, they throw their elbows backwards towards each others heads which smack into each other. Rolling to the side, both men come face to face and push forwards into a collar and elbow.

     

    OOOOOOHHHHHHHHHH!

     

     

    Cyclone: "What? What about Jesus Riley?"

     

    Riley: "Nothing, just I thought Dace was gonna... never mind, it's not happening."

     

    Cyclone: "I'm really not sure if this Chevy Chase guy should be running around in the ring at all. It can't be good for his heart. The fans seem to like this Dace character as well. He seems the man to back."

     

    Riley: "You what? You can't go saying that about people Cyclone, that's how Mark go fired damn it."

     

    Shoving backwards from Show, Dace locks his hands around the Tag Champ's wrists and forces all his weight forwards, driving Show backwards and down over himself. Gritting his teeth, Dace simple over powers Show and forces him to bridge backwards with the leverage from the Double Wristlock.

     

    Kicking backwards, Night drives one of Show's legs out from under him, dropping him flat to the mat and follows him down, pressing his body weight across the Chevy Chase's shoulders to pin him down as Soapdish slides in for the count.

     

    ......ONE!

     

     

    RRRRAAAAAAAHHHHH!

     

    Violently shifting his weight into a body roll, Show flips over, carrying Dace over with him, locking his arms around Dace in a Back Mount. Digging his heels into the mat, Show drags Night up to his feet, clamping on a Rear Waistlock.

     

    Swinging a wild Back Elbow, Horrorcore tries to dislodge Show from his back, but the big man ducks, spinning the Hardcore Goth around and driving a boot into his gut, doubling him over. Locking his arms around Night's waist, the Game Show Player throws his weight backwards, carrying Dace over head to the mat with a Gut Wrench Suplex.

     

    BBBBOOOOOOOOOO!

     

    Cyclone: "Dace just over powers Show, trade off into a German Suplex attempted, countered and countered back into a Gut Wrench Suplex. Glad to see this is as exciting as the rest of the matches."

     

    Riley: "And these fans still won't get behind Show, even after that huge effort to win the Tag Titles. I'd get behind Show in a second."

     

    Rolling over, Show grabs a leg for the pin fall.

     

    ......ONE!

     

    Kickout!

     

    YYYYYAAAAAAHHHHHHH!

     

    Keeping a grip on Dace Night, the Tag Champ hammers his fists and forearms into Night's head, chest and back. Dragging Dace to his feet, Show snakes his arms around him, lifting the Goth's body into the air with a twist and slamming him down into the mat. Bouncing Dace off the mat, Chevy Chase pulls him straight back up, whipping him off across the ring towards the ropes.

     

    As Dace bounds back from the ropes, the Game Show Player cuts him down to the mat with a Clothesline. Not making a cover, Show hauls him straight back to his feet, looping his arms under Night's and locking them behind his neck in a Full Nelson. Slamming his elbow down into Show's arm, Dace breaks the hold and swings around into a Full Nelson on his own.

     

    Suddenly shifting his body weight before Dace can take advantage, Show rams himself backwards into the corner, squashing Dace's body between the turnbuckles and himself.

     

    OOOOOHHHHHHHHH!

     

    Cyclone: "Show incontrol, not letting Dace get an advantage, the crowd doesn't like this, they want good to triumph over evil!"

     

    Riley: "Comet, this isn't your damn movie set ok. Have some respect for the man's talent."

     

    With a grunt, Night releases Show's arm as the big man backs out of the corner, then grabs him by the back of the head instead, and before Show can counter, spins him around and slams his head into the top turnbuckle. Throwing himself across the ring in a full speed charge, Dace lets out a roar as he smashes Show's head full speed into the turnbuckles.

     

    RRRRRAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!

     

    Cyclone: "Ouch! That's got to hurt. I can already see Dace is a strong guy, and that's how he's got to take it to Show to win this one."

     

    Riley: "Come on Soapdish, you can let him do that, it's like using a weapon!"

     

    As the Tag Champ staggers backwards holding his head, Dace spins him around once more, driving a shoulder into his gut and locking his arms around Show's waist, sending him over head to the mat with a Bridging Northern Lights Suplex as Soapdish starts the count.

     

    ......ONE!

     

     

    .......TWO!

     

    Kickout!

     

    BBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

     

    Cyclone: "Interesting thing spinning Show around like that. If you'd just had your skull rocked that someone spins you around, it can't be easy to keep a track of what's going on and kick out."

     

    Riley: "I think you're reading just a little to much into that Cyclone. But nice try anyway."

     

    Rolling away from the kick out, Dace scrambles back to his feet as Show pushes himself up from the canvas. Surging forwards, Night tackles into Chevy Chase's mid section, Double Legging him, sending him straight to the mat. Straddling his chest, Dace starts to unload Elbow Smashes at Show's faces as he tries to cover up and scramble for the ropes.

     

    CRACK! CRACK!

     

    YYYYYYAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!

     

    Wrapping his feet around the bottom rope, Show yells out to the ref, as Soapdish spots it and calls for the break.

     

    BREAK!

     

    CRACK! But Dace continues to unload onto Show's face.

     

    ONE!

     

    CRACK!

     

    TWO!

     

    CRACK!

     

    THREE!

     

    CRACK!

     

    FOUR!

     

    CRACK!

     

    At the last moment Dace stands up and takes a step back from Show as he struggles up to his feet. The Tag Champ drags himself up with the ropes, shaking out his head, as Dace charges again, ramming into him full force with a Lariat that sends Show over the top rope and to the floor outside.

     

    Climbing through the ropes to the outside, Dace picks Show up, grabbing him in a rough Facelock and throwing his weight backwards, drags him down with a DDT onto the matting as Soapdish starts count..

     

    OOOOHHHHHHH!

     

    ONE!

     

    TWO!

     

    Riley: "What the hell is that mad man trying to do? Get himself dqed? You can't do that on the outside!"

     

    Cyclone: "It's called revenge Bobby. It's not the best thing in the world, but you have to make right those that wrong you. Just like my book says. "

     

    Riley: "..... ok..... sure...."

     

    THREE!

     

    Standing back to his feet, Dace grabs the nearest edge of the protective matting and peels it back, exposing the hard concrete under it.

     

    FOUR!

     

    OOOOOHHHHHHHHHH!

     

    FIVE!

     

    Riley: "Stop this now, Dace is gonna drill Show onto that exposed concrete floor!"

     

    Dragging the Game Show Player onto the concrete, Night forces him into a Standing Headscissors as Soapdish yells at him to get back into the ring.

     

    SIX!

     

    SEVEN!

     

    Locking his arms around Show's waist, Horrorcore tries to lift him up, but Show sandbags for all he's worth, before sending his body forwards, slamming Night back first into the ring apron.

     

    OOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHH!

     

    SMACK!

     

    EIGHT!

     

    Rolling him back into the ring, Show slides under the bottom rope just as the Referee reaches the count of nine.

     

    Cyclone: "There's a problem with revenge, some times it doesn't goes as you plan. You're better than him Dace, don't sink to his level, and just beat him fair in the ring."

     

    Riley: "I hope you're not implying that Show can't win this one. Because let me tell you that he's more than capable of winning this match up."

     

    Wasting no time once he's back in the wrong, Show goes straight for a on Dace, reaching his legs back and hooking them over the bottom rope, hoping Soapdish won't see them.

     

    ......ONE!

     

     

    ......TWO!

     

     

     

    ......1/4!

     

     

     

    ......1/2!

     

    Kickout!

     

    YYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!

     

    Cyclone: "That cheating bastard! Show had his feet on the ropes! And that doesn't get the win. Let that be a lesson to everyone that crime does not pay."

     

    Riley: "He was taking advantage of a situation damn it, like any smart person in the ring does."

     

    Show's back to his feet first, slamming Forearm Shots into Night's head as he tries to stand back up, the sneaking in a low knee the gut doubles him over. Clamping on a Front Facelock, Show snaps Horrorcore down into the mat with a DDT. Rolling over, he sits Dace up on the may, sitting behind him with his back to the ropes.

     

    Leaning backwards, Show wraps his legs around Night's ribs in a Body Scissors, raising himself up on his hands, trying to squeeze the life out of Dace Night, as Soapdish steps into position asking Dace if he wants to continue the match.

     

    Cyclone: "Show seems to be picking his chances a little bit hear and not going head to head, rather making moves to win right away. But Dace is just going for bloody."

     

    Riley: "Trust me, you have no idea about Dace and going for bloody. I'm sure you couldn't like him if you'd seen some of the things that psycho's done. I hope Show puts him back in his place, just like on the Pay Per View."

     

    Trying to forces his hands between his body and Show's legs, Dace struggles to break the grip of the legs around him, as Show just leans back and rocks from side to side, torquing on Night's body and trying to take the air right out of him.

     

    The ref kneels infront of Dace, asking him if he's ok or if he wants to give, seeing this Show reaches back and grabs the second rope behind him, using it to take all his weight and force more pressure onto Dace's body.

     

    BBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOO!

     

    Even through the added pain, Dace refuses to give up and tap out. Show releases the ropes and drops the mat, the shock running straight through him and to Night's body, compressing it even more.

     

    STOMP! STOMP! STOMP! STOMP!

    LET'S GO DACE! LET'S GO! LET'S GO DACE! LET'S GO!

     

    With the crowd behind him, Night makes an effort to fight his way out of the hold. As Show continues to rock from side to side to add pressure, Dace throws his weight to one side as Show rocks, rolling them both over with the momentum, and throwing his weight around again on the match, sends them both into the bottom rope in a tangled heap as the ref calls for the break.

     

    BREAK!

     

    YYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!

     

    Cyclone: "Once more, cheating doesn't pay, and I think Show's about to get some pay back!"

     

    Riley: "I wouldn't be so sure. Show was using that Body Scissors to wear Dace down and taken the fight out of him. Just to stop him so he and hit a big move and pin him."

     

    Once again Show is first back to his feet, quickly scooping Horrorcore up over his shoulders in a Fireman's Carry. Walking to the middle of the ring, Show throws him up and drives Night down, gut first onto his knee.

     

    OOOOOOHHHHHHHHH!

     

    Riley: "Grand Prize, and Dace just won himself the change to be pinned and lose this match!"

     

    Letting Dace flop to mat on his back, the Tag Team Champ hooks and leg and drops his weight across Night's shoulders for the cover.

     

    .......ONE!

     

     

    ......TWO!

     

     

     

    ......1/4!

     

     

     

     

    ......1/2!

     

     

    Kcikout!

     

    YYYYYYYYYAAAAAAHHHH!

     

    Dace manages to wriggle his right shoulder up to kick out, but Show isn't off his case, hauling him back to his feet, stepping behind Dace, he hooks a leg and his waist, Show drag him up into the and dumps him to the mat with a Backdrop Suplex.

     

    Riley: "What a lovely Backdrop. So nice... hey, where's the yell?"

     

    Cyclone: "I'm sorry? Show with a Backdrop, following that Gut Buster, trying to keep Dace down and out."

     

    Riley: "No yelling, finally! Cyclone, you do you know much I really do love you?"

     

    As Dace flops to the mat once again, Show makes another cover.

     

    ......ONE!

     

     

    .....TWO!

     

     

     

    .....1/4!

     

     

     

     

    ......1/2!

     

     

    Kickout!

     

    RRRRRAAAAAHHHHH!

     

    Cyclone: "Once more Show goes straight after the cover, but it's no good."

     

    Riley: "Come on, just pin him and get out of there Show."

     

    The Game Show Play drags Night back to his feet yet again, scooping him up over his shoulders with a twist. Spinning around, Show starts to dive side ways, looking to drop Dace on his neck, but the Hardcore Goth twists his body another way and gets himself to the safety of the mat infront of Show.

     

    CRACK!

     

    YYYYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!

     

    Following it by drilling an Elbow Smash into his head, knocking the big man reeling. Wrapping his arms around Show's head in a Front Facelock, Dace takes the near three hundred pound man over head with a Snap Suplex.

     

    Rolling back to his feet, holding onto the Facelock, Dace redoubles his gripe and lifts Show all the way up into the air, taking him back down to the mat with a huge Vertical Suplex.

     

    Cyclone: "That is strong, Show's almost three hundred pounds. Remember people, you can only be that strong is you stay in school and eat your vegetables."

     

    Riley: "I hope he pulls a muscle doing that. I really do"

     

    Once again rolling over, Night powers Show back up into the air, but this time, he throws his legs out, dropping straight down, causing Show to land on his neck with a crunch sound as the crowd explodes.

     

    RRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!

     

    Cyclone: "Now Dace is really in control, using all that power he seems to have with a Snap Suplex, Suplex and a nasty Brainbuster to take it to Show, this is how you win matches Bobby."

     

    Riley: "Just you wait. Show will have more tricks up his sleeve, just like every game show player always does."

     

    The force of the impact from the Sheer Drop Brainbuster throws Show's body back up into a sitting position before Horrorcore pulls him back down to the mat, driving all his weight across him for the pin fall.

     

    ......ONE!

     

     

     

    .....TWO!

     

     

     

     

    ......1/4

     

     

     

     

     

    .....1/2!

     

     

     

     

    ......Kickout!

     

    BBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOO!

     

    Show throws a shoulder off the mat, but Dace grabs his arm and uses it to drag him back to his feet, slamming knees into his mid section along the way, keeping the Game Show Play dazed and doubled over. Dragging him into a Standing Headscissors, locking his arms around Show's waist.

     

    Cyclone: "Dace could be looking for that Piledriver again. Is he going to make it this time?"

     

    With a growl, Night pulls Show's body up from the mat, and holding him vertical for a moment before sitting back to the mat, driving show's head into it, compressing his spine.

     

    YYYYYYYAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!

     

    Cyclone: "Piledriver! Dace scores with it this time, he had Show beaten down enough to get it, but will it be over now?"

     

    Rolling Show onto his back, Night makes another cover as the fans count along in a yell.

     

    ONE!

     

     

     

     

     

    TWO!

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    THR-NNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

     

    Just managing to get his shoulder up at two and seven eights, the Tag Champ kicks out yet again. Breaking away from Show, Dace steps back across the ring and drops into a crouch, slapping his weight elbow as Show staggers to his feet.

     

    CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP!

     

    Cyclone: "It looks like Dace is about to put Show's lights out."

     

    Riley: "What would you know damn it Cyclone? Come on Show, show him who's boss!"

     

    Breaking into a full speed run like a charging bull, Dace swings his elbow out towards the head of the Game Show Player, looking to knock it clean off his shoulders, but at the last second Show side steps and avoids the blow. Twisting around his heel Dace fires of a wild Lariat, but Show catches his arm, and sweeping Night's legs out from under him, drives him into the mat with an STO.

     

    BBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOO!

     

    Riley: "See, what did I tell you? Show's got the goods and he pulled them out when he needed them."

     

    Cyclone: "Show reversing the Running Elbow into an STO, but he still has to capitalise to win this Riley."

     

    On his hands and knees for a few moments, taking in gulps of air to get his head back together, Show pushes himself back to his feet, pulling Dace up with him. Forcing one of Night's arm through his legs, the Tag Champ locks the other one under his arm up and flips Dace up off the mat in a Pumphandle, positioning him over his shoulder.

     

    Riley: "Final Answer coming up, This one is over, forget about it."

     

    Frantically kicking his legs, Dace slides down Show's back to escape the move, and shoots his arms up into a Full Nelson, looking for a Dragon Suplex, but Show snaps his head back violent, smashing it into Dace Night's skull, forcing him to release the hold.

     

    BBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

     

    Making a half turn, the Game Show Player lifts Dace up into a Fireman's Carry, breaking into a run across the ring, but once again, Night kicks his legs, shifting his body weight and sliding off Show's shoulders, planting a boot into his gut as he does so, doubling the big man over.

     

    YYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!

     

    Underhooking both of the Tag Champ's arms, the Hardcore Goth looks to drive him head first into the mat, he pulls back, lifting Show up from the mat, but Show throws his body weight this time, managing to get his feet back onto the mat.

     

    Surging upwards, he breaks Dace's grasp and spinning behind him, slaps on a Rear Waistlock and snaps backwards, launching Dace across the ring with a Release German Suplex.

     

    BBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

     

    Cyclone: "Pumphandle Fire Thunder, no Dragon Suplex, no Running DVD, no Lifting Double Arm DDT, no Release German Suplex and both men are down!"

     

    Riley: "Hah, Dace might have dodged the Final Answer and the Sixty Four Thousand Dollar Question, but he couldn't escape that German Suplex, and that's going to be the end of it I tell you."

     

    Clutching at his head, Dace rolls back up his feet and glares across the ring as Show who slowly raises back to his feet.

     

    Riley: "No way! Dace can't get up that fast!"

     

    Once again charging like a raging bull, Dace throws every pounds his get into the run, throwing his leg out and slamming it into Show's face with an echoing smack, launching him off his feet and the mat.

     

    RRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

     

    Cyclone: "Yakuza Kick! Dace tries to take Show's head clean off with that move!"

     

    Riley: "No damn it. I'm never going to get away from all this yelling about Yakuza Kicks!"

     

    Standing over Show's body, Night pulls it up from the mat, wrapping his arms around Show's waist, locking them tight, then makes his usual sharp snap backwards, hold onto the Game Show Play and driving him neck first into the mat with a Dangerous German Suplex.

     

    YYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!

     

    Cyclone: "Dangerous German Suplex!"

     

    Riley: "It's not over yet Cyclone, I'm not letting it be over yet!"

     

    The Tag Champ crumbles to the mat, rolling side ways off his neck as Dace crawls over, but rather than making a cover, he grabs the back of Show's head, and drawing back his right arm, starts to pounds away.

     

    CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

     

    CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

     

    CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

     

    Cyclone: "Dace is just literally beating the hell outta Show with those Elbow Smashes!"

     

    CRACK! CRACK! CRACK

     

    Not even able to cover up, all Show can do is tap the mat, as Soapdish calls for the bell.

     

    DING! DING! DING!

     

    Funyon: "Ladies and Gentlemen ... here is your winner .... DACE NNNIIIGGGHHHTTT!"

     

    YYYYYAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!

     

    As the bell ring, Dace finally steps off Show, looking down at his already bruising, he turns away slowly, but not before flipping him the bird for good measure.

     

    DACE F'N' NIGHT! DACE F'N' NIGHT! DACE F'N' NIGHT!

     

    Riley: "My god, Dace just beat Show into submission. That can't be right. There will be words about this Comet, I tell you, there will be words."

     

    Cyclone: "It was pay back Riley. Besides, I've seen guys over the far east win matches by beating the opponents into Submission, why not here? It was legal after all."

     

    Riley: "But, but, it's just wrong damn it."

     

    Cyclone: "It seems to me that Dace wanted revenge, he got it."

     

    With Justifiable Homicide blasting out over the sound system Dace Night climbs out the ring and heads up the ramp towards the back, as Soapdish tries to revive Show in the middle of the ring.

     

    Cyclone: "Now citizens, remember you can't go around do that to people in real life, so just grab your milk and cookies and we'll be back right after these messages with more excellent SWF programming.

     

    Riley: "Uggghhh, someone pass me the sick bucket, please god give it to me."

     

    Fade out.


  11. Coming to his feet in the middle of the ring, Beezel stands dejectedly, trying to catch his breath. Leaning on the ropes in one of the corners, Atlas can’t help but smile at his victory – his dominance over another man. Standing as the winner of an enormous bet and desperately grasping to the last shreds of his identity, Sean motions for Beezel to take the mask off.

     

    Hanging his head in shame, Beezel makes no such move. Instead, he walks to the edge of the ring, the one by the commentary table, asking Funyon for a microphone. Lacuna Coil’s “Heaven’s a Lie” is promptly cut off as Beezel brings the microphone to his mouth.

     

     

    “I donned this mask to prove that someone like me could do anything," begins Beezel, in a female voice. "But what kind of role model can I be, hiding under a mask? I thought, if I proved myself first, then showed the world who I was, I could be accepted. But no, a friend showed me that I there is no reason to accomplish anything if I am to hide like this. Tonight, I am removing my mask of my own free will and doing so with dignity.”

     

    Silence falls upon the arena, with everyone hanging on every word.

     

    "Let it be known from here on forth! A promise.... no, a DECREE has come down in this arena!" yells Beezel, his... er, her voice cracking in excitement and exhaustion, "From here on forth, there is no more El Scorcho! Beezel is dead..."

     

    In one fluid motion, Beezel removes her mask, causing her hair to rise and fall back around her head, framing a face that hasn't been seen in quite a while. Finally revealed to the world, she cries out...

     

     

    "LONG LIVE THE QUEEN!!!"

     

     

    The jaws of everyone in attendance, everyone by Atlas’ drops to the floor as Annie raises her arms in respectable defeat, half-smiling, half-grinning proudly as se turns to face every side of the arena. Her hair swings from side to side as she turns her head, displaying proudly her true identity and gender.

     

     

    “Beezel is... Annie. Beezel is Annie. Eclectic. Former US, Hardcore, and Light Heavyweight champion... And apparently, former ICTV champ as well.” Says Riley.

     

    “I tip my invisible hat to Annie” Comet says. “She had everything planned out. Voice modulator, padding for muscles, apparently. It’s amazing that no one caught on sooner.”

     

    “Just the other day, she was talking with Alex Zenon about returning... You don’t think that’s who she was talking about when she mentioned a friend, do you?”

     

    “I’d bet your life on it, partner.”

     

    “Hey!”

     

    “Hey now, not that kind of partner, partner.”

     

     

    Motioning for a microphone as well, Atlas gets one from Funyon.

     

     

    “Congratulations, Annie. You pulled off a hell of a run there. And I gotta say, you put up a great fight. I underestimated you, and when we both didn’t show up in Omaha, I think we both knew why. You didn’t want the challenge of fighting a former world champion, and I didn’t want to face the shame of possibly losing to a woman. It’s understandable...”

     

    “But because King forced us here tonight, threatening us with our jobs, you and out and I came out, and together we put on a great show. Unfortunately, despite winning the match, I think I gave up a few too many valuable secrets, and I’m sure my esteemed former colleague, Cyclone Comet, already knows who he’s dealing with here. So, without any further ado, I, Sean Atlas, present to you the face of a man unseen around these parts for two years. A former World Champion and co-commissioner...”

     

     

    ...Removing the mask, he reveals a familiar but aged and damaged face...

     

     

    “SPIKE!”

     

     

    “I KNEW IT” yells out Comet.

     

    “SPIKE?” Riley asks. “The original Spike?! Not that little bitch from the JL but SPIKE?”

     

    “YES! Spike has returned to us!”

     

    “Unreal...”

     

     

    Spike struts in the ring, finally able to show himself to the fans, who do not know what to make of it. The old school die hard fans cheer and holler at the sight of the superstar, finally unmasked. The newer viewers, mostly those who joined when the federation was sold to the Smartmarks by IGN, hardly recognize him.

     

     

    “I remember losing to Spike once... long ago, when I was still active.” Riley says. “How did I miss all those obvious signs?”

     

    “You weren’t watching what I was, Bobby.” Comet replies. “As soon as he hit the Spiker, I knew something was up. The Nail in the Coffin just sealed the deal for me.”

     

     

    Spike walks closer to Annie, extending his hand to shake hers. Somewhat hesitant at first, Annie extends hers as well. Smiling at one another as flashbulbs go off, the two of them look each other in the eye, seemingly for the first time in full honesty. Suddenly, “I Get Wet” by Andrew W.K. hits the speaker sand Annie lets the handshake go. She limps to the edge of the ring, then goes under the middle rope to leave it. Walking up the ramp, she waves to the fans, smacking hands with several of them as she leaves the scene.

     

    The microphone still in his hands, Spike waits for the music to fade out before he begins to speak again. Once Andrew W.K’s lovely sone is gone, he talks once more.

     

     

    “You see, the story is, I had to come back like this. There was no possible way for me to return differently. We all know who’s in charge right now, and as a man who once held the same position as he currently does, it would be difficult for me to return without any problems That’s why I took the route through the Junior League. That’s why I didn’t let anybody know who I was, even the members of CC.

     

    I always wore my mask, booked my own flights, even watched over the production of my footage. All of it had to be done for me to be able to come ba--*ck-crack-bbzzzzttt*.

     

    Suddenly, the power to his mic cuts out and though his lips move, no noise is transmitted to the speakers.

     

     

    “Oh, no. Not another outage. What did Canada do this time?” Riley asks.

     

    “Nothing, Bobby. The lights are all on.” says Comet. “It’s only Sean’s... er, Spike’s microphone that’s out...”

     

     

    In the midst of confusion and questioning, the sound of a gunshot echoes through the Delta Center, followed by the heavy guitar riffs of “No Leaf Clover” by Metallica – Spike’s original and only theme. Drowning out whatever he had to say, it plays him out, forcing him to stand in the ring with no ability to deliver his message. Quickly and without notice, the camera fades out and cuts to commercial...


  12. “We welcome you back, ladies and gentlemen, to the greatest show on earth!” exclaims the esteemed Robert Riley. “SWF Storm! We’re in Utah tonight, where even I can get away with being me!”

     

    “The Ringling Brothers aren’t here, and Barnum and Bailey just stepped out, but we’ve got plenty of action left!” Cyclone Comet jokes. “Two masked men will put their masks, and therefore their identities, on the line and only one will walk away with his secrecy intact! This should have taken place at Ground Zero, but seeing as how both competitors were nowhere to be found on that night, The Suicide King has forced them both to compete tonight or else, lose their jobs.”

     

    “Who do you think they are, Cyclone? We’ve got a few bets going in the back, which sprung out some rumors. People are guessing that under one of the masks may be Andrea Montgomery, Chris Raynor, former XF9 members, some old Carnival guys... there’s word that one of them may even be former World Champion Pimp Daddy Sarp!”

     

    “I wouldn’t go that far, Bobby. For all we know, they might be people we’ve never seen before. Speaking as a masked man myself, I happen to think that one of these two may be someone new altogether! A straw dummy, perhaps? Especially that Beezel, whose voice modulator just might be a tape recorder...”

     

    “Somehow, I doubt that... Now be silent so Funyon can get the rules of the match down.”

     

     

    “The following match is a No-Disqualification, No-Countout, Mask versus Mask match set for one fall! While pins and submissions may only occur inside the ring, everything else goes! The defeated competitor must remove his mask and reveal himself, or his SWF contract will be terminated.”

     

     

    As the ring announcer ends his spiel, the voice of Rivers Cuomo echoes through the Delta Center

     

    “I'll bring home the turkey if you bring home the bacon..."

     

    A sheet of red pyrotechnics lights up the entrance aisle as fumes of smoke fill out the stage. The jagged metal and shattered concrete decorating the Ground Zero set rubble as flames ignite beneath them. The resulting smoke fills up the curtain area, but a discernable figure appears between it all, then steps out and confidently strides down the aisle of ruins and flaming wreckage.

     

     

    “Entering first, currently making his way to the ring from Phoenix, Arizona, weighing in at 205 pounds, also known as El Scorcho, please welcome... BBBEEEEEEEZZZZEEEEELLLLLLLLL!”

     

    The short man in a full bodysuit reaches the ring and rolls inside, under the bottom rope. Judging by his demeanor, Beezel seems focused, nothing but ready for the match at hand. His mask is strapped on tight, and his voice modulator replaced and fastened in under the red leather disguise. “El Scorcho” fades away as the lights return to their ordinary state. The normalcy is only for a moment however, as they dim down again, accompanied by another tune.

     

    The opening notes to “Heaven’s a Lie” by Lacuna Coil chime in, carefully played by a piano while a background of electric guitars slowly builds. A blinding white light shining from beneath the ramp grating flashes in accordance with the music. Nifty vacuum machines lining the sides of the entrance aisle suck in the smoke from Beezel’s entrance, giving off quite an impressive effect. Then, as the guitars grow, the song comes to a climax and just before the expected heavy bass drums blast the roof off...

     

     

    !*BOOM*!

     

    A colossal explosion goes off on the stage, leaving behind a thick plume of new smoke. The light from underneath the stage illuminates the haze as Heaven's a Lie enters its first verse. Inside the thick cloud of white smoke, the silhouette of a man appearsand once he steps out into plain sight, Sean Atlas looks up at the multitude of spectators, judging them with the dark, beady eyes underneath his mask. He walks down the aisle, slowly raising his head to look at the façade of Beezel in the ring...

     

    “And his opponent, making his way from Chicago, Illinois, weighing in at 240 pounds, the Masked Machiavellian... please welcome... SSSEEEEEEAAAAAANNNNN AAATTTLLLAAASSS!”

     

     

    Reaching the ring, Sean slides in, stands up and stares into the eyes of his fellow masked man.

     

     

    “Both men are in the ring and it’s time to see some sparks fly!” Riley notes “Let’s get it on, boys”!

     

     

    DING-DING-DING!

     

    Before the echo of the last bell sounds out, the masked men collide in the center of the ring! Beezel charges at his masked adversary but gets taken down with a stiff clothesline. He pops back up to turns back to Sean, but is once again taken down to the mat. Coming back up, he dashes at Atlas one more time as Sean does the same, but when Atlas tries a lariat, Beezel stops dead in his tracks and carries Sean over with an Arm Drag.

     

    Atlas gets back up and turns back toward Beezel, but this time lowers his shoulders a goes for a Spear... which Beezel leapfrogs over! Atlas runs smack into the turnbuckle, barely slowing down as he stops himself on the pads. Turning around to find the quick little masked guy, Atlas find him hanging in mid air, flying towards his head...

     

    And landing on his shoulders, then pulling back for a Hurricanrana! El Scorcho flips Sean to the middle of the ring where Atlas clumsily rolls to his feet, trying to balance himself as he looks for Mr. B once more... but this time Beezel dashes towards him and leaps in the air again, feet first... and hits a dropkick!

     

    Atlas falls to the canvas, rolling towards the corner opposite of the one her was so rudely pulled out of moments ago. He uses the ropes as he quickly snaps to stand, leaning back on the turnbuckle pads. But his speedy opponent is already on his way, hand-springing in mid-ring, then turns towards Sean with his back...

     

     

    “And gets him with the handspring elbow!” yells Comet. “A fast-paced start to this contest between masqueraders!”

     

     

    Atlas falls out of the corner and Beezel quickly flips him over and covers...

     

     

    ...ONE...

     

     

    ...TWO-NO!

     

     

    “I got to hand it to Beezel. He’s taking out all the frustration that’s been building up inside him all these months” says Riley “and it’s working pretty well. But you know how it goes... it’s only a matter of time before Atlas comes right back.”

     

    “That fiend? Never! I may not be up to date here, but I know that Justice shall always prevail!”

     

    “...I miss Mark already.”

     

     

    Beezel stands and regroups while Atlas staggers up, surprisingly winded early in the match. Taken by the hand by Mr. B, Sean gets whipped into the far ropes. Coming off, he dashes back towards Beezel, but runs into his outstretched leg. Doubled over, Sean stand in mid ring as Beezel sidesteps to the adjacent set of ropes, rebounds off and returns, taking Atlas by the neck and twists him down with a Spinning Neckbreaker!

     

    Beezel comes up and drags Atlas to his feet. Anchoring himself, Beezel takes Sean by the hand once more and whips him to the ropes... but as Sean approaches them he comes down, feet first, and baseball slides under the bottom cable to escape the ring.

     

     

    “What is he doing? Get back in the ring, criminal!”

     

    “Count-out is not in effect, Cyclone, it’s all good out here”

     

    “But surely he cannot win outside of the ring.”

     

    “True, but-”

     

    “Silence, queer quagmire! Beezel is airborne!”

     

     

    *SPLAT!!!*

     

     

    Soaring over the top rope like a parrot with propellers, Beezel crashes atop Sean Atlas with a beautiful plancha to the outside! Crushed beneath him lies Sean Atlas, surprised by the aerial assault form El Scorcho. Not letting up, however, Mr. B stands and assesses the surroundings, then takes Sean up and by his arm, whips him parallel to the ring, heading right for...

     

     

    *CLANK!*

     

     

    ...The steel steps! Atlas’s shoulder takes the brunt of the impact as he collides with the solid steel structure that refused to give way when met by the 240-pounder. He slouches in the nook of the steps when Beezel darts towards him, aiming his knee directly at the head of the Malevolent Masked Man, and just as he draws near, Atlas rolls out to the side... and Beezel slams directly into the steel!

     

    Flipping over the stairs after they so violently smashed into his kneecap, Beezel lands back-first near the commentary table. For the first time in the entire match, the crowd is forced to quiet down, their excitement halted by the sudden break in Beezel’s momentum. Sensing the moment of opportunity, Atlas quickly collects himself and lifts Beezel off the floor. Dragging him by the back of the neck, he approaches the corner post and...

     

    ...Clangs Beezel’s head against it! Rebounding off, Beezel backs away, clutching his skull as Sean holds on to him, dragging him near the commentary table...

     

     

    “Oh no, back away Sean. We don’t need this thing breaking now.” Says Riley.

     

    “That’s right! We’ve got a whole show left to do, you can’t take away our table!”

     

     

    But Sean only slams Beezel’s head against the edge of the desk, trying to do more damage to El Scorcho than El Table-o. After four or five blows to the head, Beezel resists, blocking the impact with his hand, but Atlas counters it by pulling him away by the legs, lifting him off the surface of the floor and pulling back, slamming Beezel face first on the padded concrete!

     

    Hostile boos are hurled at Sean as he struts around, leaving a downed Beezel on the ground as he approaches the timekeeper’s table. Pushing him and the bell ringer out of the way, Atlas grabs hold of the ring bell and pulls it up, bringing it to chest level as a vague grin appears under his mask.

     

     

    “What wrong is that wrongdoer planning to do with that thing?” Comet asks.

     

    “Unless he’s planning to start a fire drill, I would advise Beezel to get out of the way.”

     

    “From my above-average deductive abilities, it seems that Sean is placing a lot of focus on Beezel’s head and face.” Says Comet. “It’s pretty safe to assume that he’s doing exactly that right now...”

     

     

     

    As expected, Sean lurks behind the short masked man, hiding the ring bell at his side. He waits as Beezel stands up, using the commentary table for support as he makes it from one knee down to two feet planted. His back faces Atlas and is open to attack, though Sean refrains from moving just yet... that is, until Beezel turns his head and his eyes prepare to meet those of Sean...

     

    *DING!!!*

     

    “Atlas nails Beezel right in the kisser!” yells Bobby Riley.

     

    “That had to hurt the little guy!

     

    “Not really, Comet. Beezel’s got a voice modulator there that must’ve taken the brunt of the impact.”

     

    “Really...” CC thinks. “So is that what he’s choking on right now?”

     

     

    Reaching under his mask, Beezel pulls out moist pieces of plastic, all of them the remnants of his voice modulator. Drops of blood drip out from his mouth as he fastens the mask back up. Atlas, after fighting off the jeers from a very hostile crowd, turns his attention back to Beezel. Lifting the hurting combatant to his feet, Atlas rolls him into the ring and leans in for the cover.

     

     

    ...ONE...

     

     

     

     

    ...TWO...

     

     

     

    “His feet are on the ropes!” yells Comet.

     

     

     

     

    ...THR-NO!!!

     

     

    Sean rolls off Beezel and sits up on his knees. Rolling Beezel over onto his chest, Atlas stands up and places his feet around the body of the smaller masked man. Grabbing around his waist, Atlas latches on tightly, then gets him off the ground for a better grip and finally, with one powerful heave, tosses Beezel over his head and back down to the canvas with a Wheelbarrow Suplex!

     

     

    “Huge Suplex from Atlas... and he even keeps his hands locked in!” Riley exclaims. “He’s got quite a fire in his eyes tonight.”

     

    “Why are you looking into his eyes, Bobby?”

     

    “Because... uhm... To see if... he’s possibly... a straw dummy?”

     

    “...”

     

    “...Of evil?”

     

    “Evil! This Superhero won’t stand for it!”

     

    “No, you’ll sit for it. Now shut up and talk.”

     

    “...(perplexed-ness at the oxymoron)...”

     

     

    Rolling through after the impact with mat, Atlas stands up behind Beezel, his arms still locked around Mr. B’s waist. He shifts them though, locking on a Full Nelson with one and a Chickenwing with the other. As the sound of the last crowd reaction fades away, jeers no doubt, Atlas lifts Beezel again, carries him over his head and...

     

    ...SLAMS him into the ring with the Tequila Sunrise!!

     

     

    “A remarkable chain of suplexes by Sean Atlas here.”

     

    “I wonder if he can pull off another one...”

     

     

    After the TS, Atlas had to let one arm go, but kept a solid grip on the half nelson. Repeating what he did before, he stands up, takes Beezel with him and locks the half nelson in tighter. Using his other arm, Atlas swings around and covers Beezel’s facemask with his forearm, practically locking in...

     

     

    “THE KATAHAJIME CHOKE!”

     

    “The what-a-haji-who-me?” Comet asks?

     

    “THAT!” answers Riley, pointing.

     

     

    But Atlas struggles with it, Beezel’s strangely smaller size from the lack of a voice modulator preventing him from locking it in the way he had hoped. He struggles out of it, and in fact nearly escapes before Atlas takes him off the ground and bows back, brings him over and SLAMS Beezel down again with the Katahajime Suplex!

     

     

    “Atlas completes the trifecta, executing three Magnificent Suplexes in a row!”

     

    “That brute!” says Cyclone Comet.

     

    “He covers Beezel...”

     

     

    ...O...N...E...

     

     

     

     

    ...T...W...O...

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    ...T...H...NO!!!!!

     

     

    “Yes! He got his shoulder up. And to that, sir, I drink!” says Comet, pulling out a can of Pepsi Max.

     

    “What? Here did you get that?”

     

    “Lifetime Sponsorship Agreement. You know, the same deal you have with Hello Kitty corpora-“

     

    “SSSHHHH!!!”

     

     

    Standing up, faced by thousands of furious spectators, Atlas struts around, starting to motion the middle-fingered-cross again, but then realizes he’s among Mormons and changes his mind. Returning to Beezel, Sean pulls him up by the neck and gets him standing in mid-ring. Kicking him in the gut, Atlas gets Mr. B to double over as he steps over El Scorcho’s arm, setting him up for the Stepover Legdrop...

     

    But Beezel fights back, elbowing Atlas between the legs! Sean doubles over, clutching his jewels as Beezel spins him around, hooks an arm around his neck and falls back, driving Sean’s forehead directly into the canvas!

     

     

    “Justice has prevailed as Beezel regains control!” says the superhero.

     

    “By CHEATING!” complains Riley. “He elbowed Atlas right in his best feature!”

     

    “He... (suspicious stare) ...yeah. The rules are no-DQ. Therefore, Beezel did what was best.”

     

     

    Standing back up, El Scorcho pulls Atlas to his feet and takes him by the hand, whipping him to the far ropes. Sean bounces off, running quite awkwardly until he returns to Beezel... and is met by a roundhouse kick to the knee! Taken down to one knee, Atlas is vulnerable as Beezel darts toward the near ropes, hitting them at full speed as he rounds the path back, jumps at Atlas and in a beautiful acrobatic motion, hits a Shining Wizard!

     

     

    “Sir Beezel hits ‘Dousing the Flames!’” says Comet.

     

    “Around here, we call that ‘Dousing the Flames’ buddy.”

     

    “Well sorry Mr. Around-here-we-call-that-a-golden-shower.”

     

     

    The Shining Wizard takes Atlas down on his back, reeling in pain form the hard shot. Beezel instantly stands up though, staring at the hoard of cheering fans. Jumping over Sean, he runs to the side ropes, leaping towards the middle one with his feet. Holding the top rope for balance, Beezel jumps back, arching his back as he soars through the air, falling back down towards his fellow masked opponent, crashing down on him with a most wonderful Lionsault!

     

    The crowd lets out a glorious cheer as Beezel hooks the leg, anticipating a three count...

     

     

     

    ...O...N...E...

     

     

     

     

     

     

    ...T...W...O...

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    ...T...H...R...E-NO!!!!!

     

     

    The mutual sound of disappointment fills the arena as Beezel leans back, frustrated with his inability to finish the match off. He quickly flips Atlas over, however, laying him on his chest. Straddling him from behind (as Bobby Riley smirks) Beezel pulls back on Sean’s arms, placing him in a Camel Clutch. Working quickly, he sneaks one arm around as he uses the other to lock on a Chickenwing...

     

     

    “Triple C!” yells Riley. “We haven’t seen that since... since... what’s-her-name used it!”

     

    “Annie Eclectic?”

     

    “No, that can’t be it.”

     

     

    Beezel pulls back on the hold, arching Sean’s back as he pulls back with both extremities... Atlas uses his one free arm to try and knock Beezel off, but he just won’t give... Sean reaches forward, stretching towards the ropes, possibly not realizing they will not help him in a no-disqualification match...

     

    Beezel, meanwhile, refuses to give in, keeping himself steady while applying the hold, and applying it all too well... He’s forced to slide forward a bit as the much heavier Atlas manages to move himself forward a bit, inching closer to the edge of the ring... He grasps at the fabric of the mat, using whatever he can for friction to move himself... His feet help to push him forward, and move him ever closer to that elusive rope...

     

    “Almost there, Sean.” Riley says.

     

    “sigh...

     

    (Time Passes)

     

    ...sigh”

     

    “Almost there............ GOT IT!”

     

     

    But it does him little good as Beezel does not let the hold go, and the referee, practically powerless in this match, does not warn him... Instead, Atlas is forced to pull harder, tug on the rope with all the strength in his one arm... Trying to pull himself out of the ring, Atlas manages to get his body to lean over the edge of the ring, forcing Beezel into the ropes... More and more pressure... Until his one arm gives way, causing him to drop the hold!

     

    Atlas falls limply to the ringside padding, collapsing to the ground as Beezel curses himself for not getting the job done. He slides under the bottom rope, standing right next to Sean’s head. Pulling him up, Mr. B throws him against the announcer’s table, causing riley and Comet to scatter.

     

     

    “Hey, come on! It’s my first day on the job!” yells Comet.

     

    “Then you better move, because this thing isn’t too sturdy.”

     

     

    As Sean leans against the table, barely standing, Beezel back up, one-hops on his back leg and thrusts the other directly under the chin of the Masked Machiavellian! Atlas falls on the commentary table, not breaking through it as it does nothing to break his fall. Backing away, Beezel stares at Sean for a moment, then walks over to Sean to lay him the long way on the desk.

     

     

    “What is this masquerader planning, Bobby?”

     

    “I don’t know, Comet, but I’d advise you to move back. You don’t have a good track record against inanimate objects.”

     

    “You don’t mean...”

     

    “Oh yes, Comet. The Vending Machine.”

     

    “Oooohh, OOC ends NOW, baby!”

     

     

    As Cyclone thinks back to that unique match, Beezel backs away, hopping onto the ring apron. Using the ropes for balance, he turns himself around, his back facing the ring, his covered face staring down at Sean Atlas. The fans, sensing what is to come, leave their seats to the sound of hundreds of arena seats slamming back to their upright positions. But before they can charge up their one-time-use camera flashes and poke their buddy, who’s too busy looking down the shirt of the chick in front of him, Beezel leaps off the apron, somersaulting through the air, heading for the table with the back of his legs...

     

     

    AND HITS THE SOMERSAULT LEG DROP THROUGH THE COMMENTARY TABLE!

     

     

    “HOLY McCHEESE!” yells Comet. “Our table has turned to shards!”

     

    “And our masked men have become a pile of flesh and blood.”

     

    “A masked pile of flesh and blood, Riley. Masked.” Comet says, pointing to his own mask.

     

    “Right, right.”

     

     

    As the noise form the crowd dies down, Beezel slides off Atlas, both men cut up by the impact of the table. The suit work by Beezel is torn in the back, after hitting the table edge. Beyond the blood seeping out through it is a bare back, showing that underneath the mask and the fiery red suit is indeed a person, one who’s just as fragile as any other.

     

    Sean, meanwhile, tries to roll away from the wreckage, far as he can away from Beezel. But El Scorcho is adamant and focused, crawling towards Sea despite the pain. Taking him by the arms, Beezel stumbles up and begins to drag Atlas to the ring. Leaning on the apron, bending at the knees and pushing up, Beezel manages to pull Sean up to his feet, standing hi upright before pushing him under the bottom rope through which he escaped, and rolls him into the ring. Mr. B follows Sean into the ring, pushes him in deeper and collapses onto his chest, pinning his shoulders to the mat....

     

     

     

    ...O.....N.....E...

     

     

     

     

     

     

    ...T.....W.....O...

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    ...T.....H.....R.....E.....E.......NO!!!!!

     

     

     

    “He kicked out!” yells Riley!!

     

    “What a persistent evildoer! Don’t get me wrong, I don’t like the man, but he sure is impressive.”

     

     

    Beezel rolls off, angry not only at himself, but at the entire situation. Rolling into his chest, on one knee, then to one foot and finally to two, he stands up, trying to find a way to finish Atlas off. Suddenly, like a bolt of lightning on a Canadian power plant, an idea comes to him and he leans down to lift Sean to his feet.

     

    Standing back to back, Beezel slides under Sean’s arms, as if for a backslide. Confusing some of the spectators and even Atlas himself, Beezel starts to run forward, heading for the corner ringpost. Running up the turnbuckle pads, Beezel gets himself horizontal, then vertical, then gets into a downswing, dragging Atlas down towards the mat...

     

     

    But Sean escapes!!! Beezel comes down crashing on his chest at the failed attempt at a finisher!

     

     

    “That looked far too much like the Cyclotron, Bobby.”

     

    “Don’t stroke your ego, Comet. If my memory serves me correctly, what Beezel just botched was a Baja California Crusher, used by El Luchador Magnifico in the Midnight Carnival.”

     

    “Ah... dammit.”

     

     

    Falling to the mat safely, Atlas stands up in the corner, leaning on the turnbuckles after escaping Beezel’s elaborate move setup. He waits as Beezel gets himself standing, clutching his chest that took quite a lot of the impact when he fell. Then just at the moment of eye contact, not until he can see the whites of Beezel’s eyes, Atlas lunges forward, running directly into the midsection of El Scorcho as he takes him down with a massive spear!

     

    Killing the cheers from their spectators, Atlas stands up, somewhat rejuvenated and energized. He approaches Beezel, tugging on his head to get him to stand. Then, earlier than expected and in the definition of “out-of-nowhere”, Atlas busts out a kick to the gut, then grabs Beezel in a 3/4 facelock bulldog!!! Holding on to the neck, he starts to stand up...

     

     

    “Atlas is setting up the second part of the Short Fuse!!! This is a rarity above all others, Comet. Be privileged to witness it.”

     

    “I’m drooling like a Bobby Riley at Chip’n’Dale’s.”

     

    “Wahuh???”

     

     

    Atlas gets himself upright, holding Beezel in an inverted face lock, about to drop him to the canvas with an Inverted DDT... but doesn’t...? Instead Atlas quickly turns El Scorcho around, face to face, mask to mask, throws B’s arm over his shoulder, stretching out wit his own hand across Beezel’s chest. Bending at the knees, Atlas gets a bit of momentum and lifts Beezel off his feet, carrying him through the air over his head, and down to the ground, making a full 180 rotation...!

     

     

    “I’ve seen that before!”

     

    “What? That?”

     

    “YES!” yells Comet. “Someone has used that move before!”

     

    “...It’s just a Sambo Suplex you maniacal freak of justice.”

     

    “That’s not what he used to call it...” Comet says in a voice of suspicion... “Wait, he’s covering!”

     

     

     

     

     

    ...O.....N.....E...

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    ...T.....W.....O...

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    ...T.....H.....R.....E.....E.....E.....E....E......................

     

     

     

     

    NNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

     

     

    “HE KICKED OUT! BEEZEL KICKED OUT!” yells Comet.

     

    “...out of a SAMBO SUPLEX!” Riley replies, bewilderedly.

     

    “...out of a SPIKER!”

     

    “What?”

     

     

    Frustrated, tired, and seemingly upset by Beezel’s indefatigability, Atlas props himself up, dragging the prone body of Beezel with him. Pulling him to his feet, Sean walks Mr. B to the corner. Standing behind him, Sean lifts El Scorcho into the air and drops him onto the top rope, seated on the turnbuckle pad. He walks around, through the ropes and makes his way up the corner rope anchors, ready to sit opposite his enemy.

     

    Once there, Sean wastes no time in setting up what he hopes to finish Beezel off with. He stands on the middle rope, getting Beezel to stand upright. Ducking down, Sean slides his shoulder underneath Beezel’s arm. Then, with his other, hand, Atlas hooks one of Beezel’s legs and finally, pulls the five-foot-eleven combatant onto his shoulders...

     

     

    “What’s he setting up, Riley? What is that?”

     

    “That looks to be a top rope, possibly fatal, definitely match-ending, SAINT’S DEMISE!”

     

    “Great GOdreas, Bobby! That’s incredible!”

     

     

    Sean stands atop the corner of the ring, balancing over two hundred pounds of humanity across his back. Hardly moving, Beezel is powerless as Sean steps up onto the top rope, barely able to stand without falling. Fans seated at ringside stare, mouths wide open as they witness Sean’s balancing act, holding their breath until the moment of flight, of descent, and then, impact.

     

    Yet a sudden unanimous gasp cuts through the flawless aura, in reaction to a simple shift of mass. Sean leans forward, placing his foot on the adjacent side of the top rope as Beezel leans to his side, forcing Sean to tilt forward, his feet sliding out form under him, his shoulders giving way to the pressure, and his head getting caught under the arm of a slithering Beezel, who slides down to protect himself and brak his own fall, while driving the head of Sean Atlas into the ground...

     

     

     

     

    *!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!*

     

     

     

     

     

     

    “HOLY MOTHER OF THOTH!” yells an ecstatic Cyclone Comet. “BEEZEL JUST DESTROYED SEAN ATLAS!”

     

    “He reversed the Saint’s Demise into a very sloppy, but incredibly effective Burning Desire!”

     

    “This is it! Atlas is about to lose his mask! Beezel covers!”

     

     

    Plopping down across Atlas’ chest, Beezel makes the pin to save his identity and preserve his honor.....

     

     

    ...O.....N.....E...

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    ...T.....W.....O...

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    ...T.....H.....R.....E.....E.....E.....E....E??????????????????

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    ???????

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    NNNNNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!

     

     

     

    “HE GOT THE SHOUDLER UP! HE GOT THE SHOULDER UP! SEAN ATLAS CANNOT BE STOPPED!”

     

    “Who is he?! What is he?! How in the world is this match not yet over??”

     

     

    Cursing himself under his breath, Beezel rolls off his opponent. Ignoring the slim chances of it working and disregarding the risk involved, Beezel actually stands up, and walks to the corner. The sound of a shocked crowd has not died down when he starts to climb the turnbuckle, making his way to the top. The noise carries over into renewed excitement as thousands advance their camera film, charge up their flashes and prepare to witness history in the making...

     

     

    “It’s coming, Comet. I can feel it. I can taste it. I can smell it in the air!”

     

    “I smell it too, but that smell isn’t ‘it’. It’s you, and what you smell is the odor of one overexcited commentator, orgasm-ing at the sight of a match’s end.”

     

     

    Beezel makes his decision. Facing the ring, staring down at the motionless body of... someone, below him, Beezel bends at the knees and jumps... His feet leave the surface of the top rope and he turns, flipping himself over to aim at Sean with his back, putting all the weight he has into one moment of impact......

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    !*CRASH*!

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    And with a high, almost feminine cry of pain, hits nothing but the ring...!

     

     

    “HE MISSED!”

     

    “What in the world?!” asks Comet. “That’s my move! The Falling Star Bomb! That el=vildoes has stolen it form me!”

     

    “You imbecile, that’s the meteor Shower, Beezel’s finisher. He stole nothing form you!”

     

    “This is too suspicious Riley... Something stinks around here, and it’s not just you.”

     

     

    Breathing heavily, Atlas regains his breath after holding it to remain motionless. Barely able to pull himself together, he clutches the middle rope as he pulls himself up, heading right for the same corner that Beezel came down from. El Scorcho lies in the same spot Atlas did, face up, hardly moving after collapsing onto his curved back with so much force. More vulnerable now than ever, he can do nothing as Sean climbs up.

     

    Stepping one rope at a time, slowly and cautiously, Atlas gets himself to the top rope. He sits, crouching, waiting for the right moment to make his move. The noise filling up the arena is a strange mix of astonishment, support, motivation and simple excitement. Sean blocks it all out as he extends his legs, standing upright on the top corner like a statue on a bridge.

     

    Cool and collected, Sean lifts one foot off and takes a step to the side, inducing a gasp from the fans nearby... the takes another step, walking the top rope parallel to Beezel... Another step and finally a fourth is taken as he turns towards El Scorcho, bends and flies off, soearing towards the limp body of the man soon to be formerly known as Beezel, driving his elbow directly into his heart.

     

     

    “NAIL IN THE COFFIN!” yells Comet. “N-A-I-L! NAIL IN THE COFFIN!”

     

    “What the hell?”

     

    “Sean Atlas is not Sean Atlas!” discovers Comet. “He’s former IGNWF World Champion S-”

     

    “HE’S COVERING!”

     

     

     

    ...O.....N.....E...

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    ...T.....W.....O...

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    ...T.....H.....R.....E.....E.....E.....E....E.....E.....E.....E.....E!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

     

     

     

    “THAT’S IT!”

     

     

    DING-DING-DING!

     

     

    “He’s done it! Atlas won the match!”

     

    “But he’s not Sean Atlas! I mean he is, but Sean Atlas is Sp-”

     

    “Shut up, Comet! Don’t screw things up now. Atlas won, it’s Beezel that has to unmask!”

     

     

    Funyon takes the mic: “Your winner... SSSSEEEEAAAAAANNNNNN ATLAS!!!”

     

     

    “So who’s Beezel? Who’s hiding behind that mask?” asks Riley.

     

    “Let’s find out...”


  13. FADE IN

     

    Johnny Dangerous steps out of the office of the Suicide King and closes the door behind him. He reaches into his jacket pocket, retrieving a pack of Marlboro cigarettes, and places one between his lips. Returning the cigarettes to his jacket, Johnny pulls out a lighter and bends his head down slightly to light it, when suddenly…

     

    “YOU!”

     

    “Eh?”

     

    CRASH!

     

    Before Johnny can react, or even fully turn around, Wildchild streaks down the hallway, bearing down on the Secret Agent with the speed of a cruise missile, and tackling him into a nearby pile of electrical equipment!

     

    “Dis’ is all YOUR fault,” screams the Bahama Bomber, as he batters his former tag team partner with a flurry lightning-fast punches. “Your fault!”

     

    A crowd starts to form as various road agents try to break up the melee. Ejiro Fasaki and Judge William Hearford each grab one of Wildchild’s arms and pull him forcefully off of Johnny.

     

    The door to the Suicide King’s office begins to rattle fretfully as the disembodied voice of the SWF commissioner bellows from inside. “WHAT THE HELL’S GOING ON OUT THERE?”

     

    Judge Hearford cracks the door open and peers his head in. “Minor domestic disturbance, boss. Don’t worry; we’ve got it under control!”

     

    “See that you do,” barks King. “If I’m disturbed again, you’re ALL fired! Get me?”

     

    Judge nods. “We get you, chief!” Closing the door softly behind him, Hearford walks back over towards Ejiro, who is giving Wildchild a verbal dressing down for his behavior. “… absolutely not acceptable for any of my employees! And another thing, whatever animosity you may have for your former partner, you’re just going to have to choke on; Johnny has been declared ‘protected’ by the Suicide King, which means that as long as you’re working for me, you can’t lay a finger on him! If I even catch you near him, I’ll have to submit an adverse conduct report to King. So, unless you feel like losing your job some time soon, you’ll stay the hell away from him. Got it?”

     

    Wildchild looks back and forth between Justice and Rule, each staring back at him with smug looks on their faces. The Bahama Bomber’s pupils constrict as he bites down the urge to throw caution to the wind and attack both of them, but instead, simply spins around on his heels and storms off.

     

    Judge claps a hand on his partner’s shoulder. “Looks like you’ve got a problem on your hands, there.”

     

    Ejiro nods. “Indeed. It seems that young Dominic needs a lesson in humility. I’ll have to see what I can do about that…”


  14. Fade in from commercials. There is only a shred of silence before "Sinner" by Drowning Pool immediately kicks in, and John Duran comes out from behind the curtains.

     

    Comet: "Welcome back to SWF Storm, as we are ready to begin our next match!"

     

    Riley: "Hooray, yet another Flesher-less match next to you, I can't wait."

     

    Comet: "Cheer up, Mr. Riley! We have two fine athletes in this next matchup, with the SWF newcomer John Duran, hot off a debut win at Ground Zero going against one-half of International Incident, the Canadian Intelligence Agent, CIA!"

     

    Riley: "Watch me as I jump for joy, Superman."

     

    Funyon: "Ladies and gentlemen, this next match is scheduled for one fall with a 30-minute TV time limit! Coming down to the ring now, from Champaign, Illinois, weighing in at two hundred and sixty-five pounds, he is 'The Sinner'...JOHN DURAAAAAAAAAAAN!"

     

    Duran continues walking down the ramp, giving the usual middle fingers to the crowd before stopping near the end of the aisle and turning to face a young woman. This woman knows her stuff, however, and gives Duran the middle finger. "The Sinner" seems to laugh it off and walk away, but he suddenly turns around and knocks the cup of beer out of the fan's hand, inciting a riot of boos from the crowd as John gives the attractive girl a smug look.

     

    Comet: "That John Duran is a despicable man! How dare he treat that defenseless young woman like that? She's just a fan!"

     

    Riley: "Why don't you go down there and release your justice all over him, or whatever the hell you do"?

     

    Comet: "That's a good idea!"

     

    Riley: "No, no, stay here. Wouldn't want you to get fired, who knows who they've got waiting in line behind you."

     

    Duran gives the girl a middle finger before parting, stepping up onto the apron and going through the ropes to the opposite side of the ring, awaiting his opponent. The lights in the arena fade almost completely to black, as the beginning to "Can't Stop" by the Red Hot Chili Peppers begins to play. As the beat builds, strobes of light flicker about inside the Delta Center. The beat approaches its peak, as two large explosions rock Utah to its foundation, as the opening riff begins. CIA rises up from below the stage, making his way down the aisle, arms raised.

     

    Funyon: "And his opponent, weighing in at two hundred and forty-five pounds, hailing from Ottawa, Ontario, Canada...he is the Canadian Intelligence Agent...C! I! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYY!"

     

    CIA continues down the aisle, sliding into the ring and going to the nearest corner to get a pop from the fans, but Duran comes up from behind and gives CIA a clubbing blow to the back, as the referee suddenly snaps to attention and calls for the bell as this match is beginning early!

     

    *DING DING DING*

     

    Riley: "You have to respect that, Duran is a man who wants to get his business done quickly!"

     

    Comet: "He is a very unsavory fellow, though. How *dare* he attack another man from behind! Does this man have no honor?"

     

    Riley: "Well, doesn't it make sense? Duran is less experienced than CIA, so he's doing everything he can to make sure that CIA doesn't have that clear-cut advantage right from the opening bell."

     

    CIA comes down from the turnbuckle, stunned from the sneak attack before the bell by "The Sinner." The Agent turns around, but remains backed up in the corner as Duran lands a couple of right hands. John then grasps CIA by his right arm, tossing him into the opposite turnbuckle and charging after CIA, nailing him with a hard clothesline as CIA slams into the corner. Duran keeps the Canadian on his feet and boxed up in the corner, however, grabbing CIA's head and meeting heads with a headbutt.

     

    Comet: "This is most certainly the opposite of righteousness! CIA needs a sponge!"

     

    CIA is looking a little woozy from the headbutt, and Duran is put off as well, but it hurt CIA more than it hurt "The Sinner," as John brings up a knee into CIA's gut, doubling the agent over. John quickly locks on a front facelock, bringing CIA back into the middle of the ring and out of the corner, where both men can do potentially more damage. Duran asserts control of the situation, however, bringing CIA's arm over his shoulder and lifting the Ottawan up into the air, keeping him perpendicular from the mat before falling back and dropping CIA down with a textbook vertical suplex. Duran quickly moves his body over CIA's to cover him for a cover early in the match, the ref paying close attention to the mat and immediately dropping to his knees to count the first pinfall of the match.

     

    ONE...KICKOUT!

     

    Comet: "John Duran is a fool! What makes him think that he can get a pin so early in the match?"

     

    Riley: "Irony: You calling someone a fool."

     

    Comet: "That comment was unjust!"

     

    John rises up after the failed pin attempt, leaning down to pick CIA back up to his feet. Once CIA reaches a vertical base, he outsmarts Duran with a simple right hand to the jaw which surprises and staggers "The Sinner," to the delight of CIA's fans. Duran seems angered and attempts to clothesline CIA down to the mat once again, but CIA sees it coming this time and ducks it, going behind the confused Duran and landing a couple of forearm shots to the back of Duran's head, popping the crowd as the more experienced CIA goes to work on Duran.

     

    Riley: "He's not fighting fair! He should at least learn to fight face to face with Duran!"

     

    Comet: "It does not make sense to have a man fight with honor against a man who has no honor."

     

    Riley: "Oh, go save a cat from a tree or something."

     

    Duran remains on his feet as CIA backs off into the ropes, coming right back towards the hunched over Champaign native, wrapping an arm around Duran's head and running forward before falling to the mat, driving Duran face first into the mat with a bulldog. CIA is pumped up at this point, and neglects going for the cover in favor of bringing Duran back up to his feet by his jet-black hair. CIA turns his attention to the crowd for a moment, getting them juiced up as well, before grabbing Duran by his arm and whipping him towards the corner. CIA puts most of his strength behind this Irish whip, however. It shows, too, as Duran goes hard into the turnbuckle, staggering out, dazed and confused. CIA gets a nice running start and then dives down near Duran, extending his legs out and taking the legs of "The Sinner" out from under him with a low, low, low dropkick.

     

    Comet: "That's it, CIA! Show him how it's done!"

     

    Riley: "Aren't you going to talk about inevitable destructity some more?"

     

    With Duran down on the mat once again, CIA takes the opportunity this time around, performing a simple lateral press as the ref swings around to count the pinfall.

     

    ONE...

     

     

     

     

    KICKOUT!

     

    Duran took an early beating, but it doesn't keep him from kicking out after only one.

     

    Comet: "CIA should have hooked the leg, he would've had guaranteed a win by simply doing that!"

     

    Riley sighs as the action in the ring continues, as CIA appears to change his offensive methods, sitting Duran up and then quickly locking a Dragon sleeper onto John, getting a great response from the crowd, as "The Sinner" immediately begins to squirm against the Canadian's arm wrapped around his neck and head, putting pressure on John. The ref leans in to ask Duran if he submits, but Duran fights through the obvious pain and says loud and clear, "No!" Hearing this, CIA just decides to lock it on tighter, and this gets Duran moving towards what he think could be the nearest ropes.

     

    Riley: "Look at that ring awareness from Duran! He's going to reach the ropes!"

     

    Comet: "No! Submit like a real man!"

     

    However, Duran manages to stretch out a leg onto the bottom rope, as the ref asks CIA to break the hold. CIA seems disappointed, but releases the hold so he is not disqualified. CIA stays on the offensive, grabbing Duran by the hair and bringing him back up to his feet, quickly grabbing Duran's arm and sending him into the ropes with an Irish whip. As Duran rebounds off the ropes, CIA bends down waiting to toss Duran up and over, but Duran telegraphs it, stopping and bringing his boot up, kicking CIA in the shoulder. CIA stands up straight from the pain, and "The Sinner" makes sure to deal out some more damage, charging CIA and taking him down with a big clothesline.

     

    Riley: "Aha! I knew CIA couldn't keep it up for long! He may be experienced, but Duran has the strength!"

     

    Comet: "CIA just needs the strength in the heart to carry him through!"

     

    Riley: "Isn't that a lyric from a song?"

     

    Riley turns to look at Cyclone Comet, but Comet just shrugs. Going back to the action in the ring, Duran is delivering right hands to the head of CIA as the Canadian lies on the mat after the clothesline, the crowd booing Duran as he lays in shot after shot on the face of CIA. After five or six right hands from "The Sinner," Duran brings the masked man up to his feet, leaving him standing there, dazed and trying to sort everything out in his head as Duran goes into the ropes. As he comes back, he brings his right arm up, using his momentum to slam his forearm into CIA's face, knocking the man from the Maple Leaf country down to the mat once again. Duran gives the crowd a smug look of satisfaction, and then raises the two middle fingers up into the air again, getting the crowd to begin a little chant as Duran continues.

     

    "DUR-AN SUCKS ASS!" *clap clap clapclapclap*

    "DUR-AN SUCKS ASS!" *clap clap clapclapclap*

    "DUR-AN SUCKS ASS!" *clap clap clapclapclap*

     

    Duran seems to shrug these chants off as he goes into the ropes once again, getting a good running start before leaping up in the air near CIA's prone body. "The Sinner" extends out his leg and brings it down hard across the chest of CIA, the legdrop finding its mark and then some, taking the wind right out of CIA as he clutches his chest in pain from a big two hundred and sixty-five pound leg.

     

    Riley: "That's all she wrote, folks!"

     

    Comet: "Who is this woman who writes?"

     

    Riley: "..."

     

    Duran wastes no time in rearranging himself over CIA's body, draping his body across CIA's and hooking the near leg as the ref begins the pinfall count.

     

    ONE...

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    TWO...KICKOUT!

     

    CIA isn't quite done yet as he kicks out after the count of two, as the Utah crowd cheers, trying to get behind the Agent. Duran seems to be showing some signs of frustration as he sits up on his knees, looking at the ref with an incredulous look and giving him a little piece of his mind before grabbing CIA by his shoulder-length blonde hair again and bringing him up to his feet once again. Seemingly somewhat angered that he didn't get the pinfall, Duran slaps his hand across the throat of CIA, most likely looking to hit that chokeslam. However, CIA brings a boot up to counter it quickly, doubling Duran over. Duran snaps back up and tries to hit CIA with a right hand, but CIA blocks it and then spins around, crashing his heel into the side of John's head, bringing 'The Sinner" down to the mat as the crowd has something to cheer about again with CIA back on the offensive.

     

    Comet: "The first rule of being a superhero, Bobby: You can't keep a good man down!"

     

    Riley: "The first rule of announcing with me: Drink a nice tall glass of shutthehellup!"

     

    Duran is down on the mat as CIA goes to the near corner, teasing the Air Canada but only climbing to the second turnbuckle, taking aim and jumping off the middle rope, bringing his knee up as he slams it down onto Duran's face with a thump. Duran holds his face in pain, and the crowd seems to be gobbling it all up. CIA goes down to the mat and sits Duran up again, locking on that Dragon sleeper again, getting a bigger reaction than the last time it was applied, as Duran is quite a bit further away from the ropes than he was the last time.

     

    "YOU'VE GOTTA TAP!"

    "YOU'VE GOTTA TAP!"

    "YOU'VE GOTTA TAP!"

     

    The chant continues as Duran struggles against the Dragon Sleeper, slowly inching towards the ropes but making no real progress. However, Duran refuses to tap to the Dragon Sleeper, fighting against it to the best of his ability. As Duran nears the ropes once again, some of the crowd begins to boo, hoping that Duran's leg won't make it the rest of the way. CIA makes sure it doesn't, releasing the hold slightly so he can bring Duran back into the center of the ring. The crowd explodes with cheers, but the Canadian isn't done. He gets to his feet, and with some effort brings Duran up as well, groggy as "The Sinner" may be, as the move is essentially an inverted facelock at this point. CIA lifts up with all the strength he can deal out, lifting Duran up into the air and holding "The Sinner" up in the air for a few seconds as the cameras get their pictures, before CIA drops to the mat with John in between his legs, sitting out with the...

     

    Comet: "Michinoku Driver 2 Beta! I haven't seen action like this since Bad Boys 2!"

     

    Riley: "I thought that movie was mostly mediocre. It was alright."

     

    Comet: "Decent summer flick, indeed. Justice was served to the ticket payers."

     

    The crowd is absolutely jacked up as CIA pins Duran's shoulders down to the ground, the ref noticing that the Driver has been turned into a pin attempt, quickly sliding down and watching Duran's shoulders as he begins a three count.

     

    ONE...

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    TWO...

     

     

     

     

    KICKOUT!

     

    Duran took a nasty bump to the head, but he manages to bring his shoulder up just before the count of 3, with not a second left to spare. CIA does not seem taken off by this in the least, keeping his cool and figuring that he has this battle won anyway.

     

    Comet: "You know, I heard that CIA's relatives spent the night in the dark in Ottawa last night due to the big blackout."

     

    Riley: "You know...I don't care, Comet! ARGH! I'm almost tempted to encourage King to give Stevens his job back!"

     

    Comet: "Aww, you don't mean that, do you, ol' buddy, ol' pal?"

     

    Riley: "Blah."

     

    Duran holds his neck in pain from having constant pressure put on it all match from CIA, and CIA doesn't give "The Sinner" much time to think about what he is going to do about his neck, bringing a cloudy and dazed Duran up to his feet. Duran is barely able to stand, the blood still trying to return from his head after being cut off from the Dragon sleeper, as CIA backs up a few steps, taking aim at Duran's face and stepping forward, swiftly bringing his leg up as Duran snaps to life. The superkick misses its mark as Duran sidesteps to the left, facing the front side of CIA and quickly burying a boot into CIA's solarplexes, doubling the Agent over. Once again, the crowd boos, disgusted, as Duran seems to have taken control of the match once again. Duran locks on a front facelock and quickly drops down to the mat, slamming CIA's head into the mat with a DDT.

     

    Riley: "Now this is more like it! Gogo Duran!"

     

    Comet: "Justice is not being served!"

     

    Duran has seemed to extinguish CIA's fire from earlier in the match and has ignited one of his own, as he wastes no time bringing CIA back up to his feet and tossing him towards the nearest corner, and then backing up to the opposite corner, crouching down. Duran then begins charging quickly across the ring, driving his shoulder into CIA's gut with a big spear that looks like it could've split CIA in half if he hadn't supported himself on the ropes. Unrelenting, Duran begins to land hard lefts and rights to the body of CIA, staying crouched as shot after shot blasts into CIA's midsection.

     

    Comet: "No! Come on CIA! Summon the conviction inside of you to take down this evildoer!"

     

    To add insult to injury, Duran finally finishes and then goes to a vertical base, reaching out and raking his hand across the face of CIA, raking the Canadian's eyes to the boos of the crowd as CIA tends to his face. Duran backs away from CIA, but only to catch a boot in his gut. Duran puts CIA in a standing headscissors, wrapping his arms around CIA's waist as the crowd boos, thinking the Ultimate Sin is coming up. However, as Duran comes out of the corner, he lifts up CIA, holding him perpendicular to the mat for a few moments before dropping down to the mat and driving CIA's head into the mat with a big piledriver.

     

    Riley: "I'm not sure who's taken more bumps to the head this match, CIA or John Duran?"

     

    Comet: "This is a bump on the head to the TV viewer. They demand justice, I'm telling you!"

     

    Duran apparently wants to inflict more damage to the Ontario man, as he doesn't go for the cover, but instead gets to his feet, taunting CIA and telling him to rise up to his feet. The crowd boos as CIA slowly begins to make his ascent up to his feet, and Duran extends his arm out slightly, hinting at what is coming next. Sure enough, as CIA reaches his feet and turns around, he is greeted with a hand around his throat. Duran slings an arm over his shoulder, picking CIA high up into the air and holding him for only one or two seconds, bracing CIA's back before slamming him down with a huge chokeslam.

     

    Riley: "Cover! Cover! Pin him! Pin him!"

     

    Comet: "Justice!"

     

    Riley: "Do you have a fetish for William Hearford or something?"

     

    Finally, Duran decides to go for the pin, hooking the far leg while in the lateral press, the ref falling to the mat once again to count the three count.

     

    ONE...

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    TWO...

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    THREE!!!!! THAT'S IT! WHAT AN UPSET!

     

    ...

     

     

     

     

     

    NO! WAIT, CIA KICKED OUT!

     

    The crowd holds their breath wondering if CIA kicked out, and as the ref signals to the timekeeper that it was a two count only, the crowd erupts with cheers!

     

    Riley: "NO!"

     

    Comet: "YES!"

     

    Duran seems to be frustrated as he sits CIA up and locks on a sleeper of his own. Only this is your basic, run of the mill sleeper. Unfortunately, the twist in Duran's chokeslam left CIA right in the middle of the ring, and it's doubtful that CIA will be able to wriggle enough in the strong arms of "The Sinner" to make it to the ropes. Nevertheless, not wanting to be outclassed by a newcomer to the SWF, CIA fights with the experience he has in his favor. The crowd immediately begins to get behind the Agent, and John wrenches on that sleeperhold onto CIA, wanting the Agent to take a nice, long nap. However, CIA does no such thing, showing signs of life just as it seems he's beginning to fade and fighting against the sleeper, managing to get to one knee.

     

    Comet: "He's going to get out of that sleeperhold! He's going to make it back to his feet!"

     

    Riley: "No! Go to sleep, you stupid Canadian!"

     

    However, the Agent fights for all that he is worth, driving an elbow into John's stomach, trying to loosen the grip of the sleeper any way he can. Finally, to avoid further blows to his body, Duran adjusts his stance and pushes CIA into the ropes. CIA rebounds off the ropes and Duran bends down, grabbing CIA and tossing him over his back with a back body drop, but as CIA falls down to the mat, he manages to grab Duran's legs. Once CIA makes impact with the ring, the momentum of the back body drop backfires on "The Sinner," as he is sent backwards with a modified sunset flip.

     

    Riley: "WAIT, WHAT?!?! WHAT IS THIS?"

     

    Duran's shoulders are pinned down to the mat, so the ref naturally falls to the mat to count the three count, as the crowd counts along, ecstatic:

     

    ONE...

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    TWO...

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    THREE! WAIT, NO! DURAN KICKS OUT!

     

    The crowd can't believe that Duran managed to get an arm up after being caught in that surprise pinning combination from CIA. CIA gets to his feet, and Duran is shocked from the previous events, not quite knowing how to react. CIA does, however, as he hits Duran with a couple of right hooks to the face and the jaw. Duran is staggered by the gusto behind these punches, and the crowd gets on their feet as CIA does a little jig for the Utah crowd.

     

    Comet: "Here it is! Dance!"

     

    Riley: "NO!"

     

    The Agent leans back and pretends to swig a frosty cold beer.

     

    Comet: "Drink!"

     

    Riley: "NO!"

     

    Then CIA comes forward with a thundering elbow right to the skull of Duran, sending Duran crashing to the mat like a ton of bricks.

     

    Comet: "...Drop!"

     

    Riley: "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

     

    CIA riles up the crowd, raising his hands up and pointing out to them, acknowledging their cheers as he then turns to Duran. This time CIA is doing the taunting, waiting for "The Sinner" to get up so the masked man can finish Duran off.

     

    Comet: "I told you, Mr. Riley, the experience factor of CIA is too much to overcome!"

     

    As Duran begins to get to his feet, CIA switches his position around, positioning himself behind Duran. Once Duran reaches his feet, CIA takes his chance at an attack, locking his arms around the waist of "The Sinner." CIA uses all the strength he can muster, as he lifts Duran off the ground, leaning his weight back and tossing Duran over his head.

     

    BOOM

     

    "Oooh!"

     

    Duran's head impacts with the mat with a thud as the release German suplex connects, which can mean only one move is about ready to be unleashed on Duran. The crowd cheers as CIA rises to his feet and points to the corner nearest Duran's downed body, before going over to said corner and beginning to climb up.

     

    Comet: "Justice shall be served in the form of CIA's Air Canada! I love this move!"

     

    Riley: "Bah! That move sucks!"

     

    CIA scales up to the top turnbuckle, playing the crowd a little bit as everyone in Utah is on their feet, waiting to see the Air Canada unleashed. Finally, CIA turns his back to Duran and delivers, flipping through the air with a moonsault and twisting his body slightly, extending that elbow out as the cameras flash all around the ring.

     

    BOOM

     

    "Ohhhh!"

     

    "Boooooo!"

     

    Comet: "He missed! No!"

     

    Riley: "Yes!"

     

    The Air Canada connects, but not with its intended target, as Duran barely manages to move his two hundred and sixty-five pound frame out of the way, the point of the elbow just missing Duran's left shoulder. CIA lands on the mat and immediately feels the pain from missing the move, and the crowd doesn't seem to like this turn of events at all. Duran gets up to his feet, looking glad to have just barely missed the Air Canada, before signaling for the one and only Ultimate Sin.

     

    Riley: "Now this is action that I can appreciate!"

     

    Comet: "CIA has too much conviction, there is no way he can be hit with such an insult to superheroes everywhere in that Ultimate Sin!"

     

    Riley: "He's a sinner, baby!"

     

    Duran goes over to CIA, who still seems to be in quite the amount of pain after missing the high-risk move, bringing CIA up by his golden locks and quickly placing him in a standing headscissors, the crowd continuing to boo. Duran leans over, wrapping his arms around the waist of CIA and lifting CIA up into the air, extending CIA's arms out into a crucifix position. CIA struggles against Duran, trying to break free, but "The Sinner" silences him by tossing him up into the air, grabbing CIA around the waist again and coming down to the mat quickly.

     

    BOOM

     

    The Ultimate Sin connects, and the crowd is not enjoying seeing their favorite Canadian Intelligence Agent down on the mat. Duran extends his legs out, pinning down CIA's shoulders as the ref swings around to count the pinfall, the crowd not counting along, but mostly just booing along in disgust.

     

    ONE...

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    TWO...

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    THREE! KICKOUT! But it's too late!

     

    CIA manages to get a shoulder up, but the ref has already called for the bell, and Duran doesn't seem like wanting to wait around to see what CIA will do next.

     

    Funyon: "Here is your winner via pinfall, JOHN DURAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!"

     

    "Sinner" cues up again and Duran quickly escapes under the bottom rope, backing his way up the ramp, ignoring the fans boos and beginning his celebration.

     

    Comet: "This is a travesty! A fluke!"

     

    Riley: "That's no fluke, Duran's the real deal! In addition, he proved it! That's not even an upset, because Duran's got the talent!"

     

    Comet: "I'm tired of talking about this, let's move on. Geez, just when CIA was making a comeback, too."

     

    Riley: "Fair enough. We have a great match coming up in the main event tonight, even though Tom Flesher isn't in it. It's for the ICTV title, it's between Mak Francis and Michael Craven, but there's still a lot of show to go, so don't go anywhere, this is SWF Storm, LIVE!"

     

    Comet: "An injustice!"

     

    Riley: "We get it."

     

    Fade to commercials.

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