chirs3

Only manatees.

Wasn't me. When cards currently under construction go up in the CC folder, Tom likes to add a bit of flavor to them.

Done and done. Check yo inbox, Pete. Anyone else got any requests? I've got plenty of time to kill here.

I thought it was some bizarre term for druggie as well. Never heard of a droogie before.

I totally knew that. Just testing you. You passed. C+.

Nemesis vs. MVS has been edited in.

Significant pieces are still missing (roughly, oh, 60% of the show), so I suppose it's postponed. Lockdown card will still be going up tonight, though, as I don't want to cut down the writing time for it anymore than it has been. Apologies.

Consider it done. Only, you know... not yet.

“We’re back,” says the Suicide King, “and we’re ready for the main event.” “That entrance was amazing,” Mak says. “I didn’t even know Landon could ride a unicycle.” In the ring, Sexton Hardcastle quickly checks Landon for foreign objects. He turns toward Flesher, who glowers at Maddix as Hardcastle runs his hands over Tom’s kickpads, then checks his wrist tape and his heavily-taped left thumb. Finally satisfied that neither man has a foreign object, Hardcastle calls for the bell. DING DING DING!!!! Flesher and Maddix square off in the center of the ring. As Maddix smirkingly whacks Flesher on the forehead, the Cruiserweight Champion lunges at his ankle, looking for a low single-leg takedown. Maddix quickly evades Flesher, kicking his leg back and leaving Tom without a grip. Flesher pauses for a second, then throws a stiff uppercut straight into Maddix’s crotch! “Good lord,” Francis cringes. “Did you see that?” “See what?” says King, audibly wincing. Referee Sexton Hardcastle warns Flesher, cautioning him not to continue attacking Landon illegally. Flesher, for his part, shoves the official to the side and throws Landon into the corner before chargin in and hammering him with a running Yakuza kick! Landon, stunned by the attack, slumps down in the corner as Flesher nails him with a palm strike to keep him quiet for a few minutes. “I’ll tell you,” says King, “Flesher is NOT happy that Landon and Toxxic stole those Tag Team Title belts from him and Grappler. He’s hell-bent on revenge tonight.” As Landon starts out of the corner, Flesher is waiting in the center. He grabs the slightly disoriented Cockroach and arches back, throwing him to the mat with a Railgun suplex! Instead of covering him, though, Tom grabs Landon by the head and pulls him back up to his feet. He whips Landon to the ropes and then backs up. “He’s not going to...” “Oh, I think he is,” says King. As Landon charges at Flesher, Tom reaches out, grabbing him around the ribs and arching backwards. He throws his Cruiserweight challenger over the top rope with a second Railgun suplex, letting him go at the high point and then dropping him onto the concrete with a SPLAT! Immediately, Sexton Hardcastle calls for the bell! DING DING DING!!!! As Flesher scowls down at the pile of Maddix, Funyon makes his announcement. “Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of this match, by disqualification... LANDON MADDIX!” The crowd pops for the technical winner of the match, and after a moment, Funyon says, “However, still your Cruiserweight Champion... TOM FLESHER!” The crowd goes wild, booing Flesher, who stays in the ring. James Matheson hands him his Cruiserweight Championship belt, and he slings it over one shoulder, still staring daggers at the barely-moving Maddix. “What the hell is Flesher thinking?” says Francis. “He walks in here, hits Landon below the belt, and then suplexes him over the top rope? He knows that’s a DQ in cruiserweight matches!” “Flesher doesn’t care about that tonight,” King replies. “He’s just pissed, and he’s taking it out on the man who took his Tag Team Titles away. I’ll tell you, I would NOT want to be Michael Stephens come Genesis.” As the camera stays on the visibly fuming Flesher, we fade. -=-=-=-=-=- SWF Storm, April 18, 2006. © Acid Rayn Productions. All rights reserved. The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation: “Raising workrate by typing faster.”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation presents... SWF STORM! Live, Friday, August 18th, from the MTS Centre in Winnipeg, Manitoba! (7pm PST, 10pm EST; check local listings) (Send all promos/marked matches to chirs3) -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- THE MAIN EVENT - CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH "The Superior One" Tom Flesher © vs. Landon "La Cucaracha" Maddix © -> Oh. My. God. Two Skinny White Guys pulled out a HEEEE-Y-UUUUUUUUGE win on Smarkdown, finally snaking the titles off of Tom Flesher and Charlie "Grappler" Matthews! While this would put anyone in a foul mood, the fact that Peters is now immediately granting Landon his his Cruiserweight Title shot must be putting Tom right over the edge! Will this be enough motivation for Tom to retain, or is this level of frustration exactly what La Cucaracha needs to take him down? Tonight, while their respective tag partners take a well-earned show off, these two showcase Cruiserweights will rock our world, and the title will be on the line! Rules: Standard, with Cruiser addenda. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- SINGLES MATCH "The Divine Wind" Akira Kaibatsu vs. MANSON~! -> The maybe/maybe not champion Akira Kaibatsu will be put to the test tonight against the newly motivated MANSON. Is the fire under Manson's ass just warming up, or is it just embers, about to go out? Good lord. I apologize for that. Seriously. Rules: Standard singles. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- SINGLES MATCH Amy Stephens vs. Jimmy the Doom © -> Jimmy the Doom, YOUR NUMBER ONE CONTENDER! Not as shocking as you might think, as he has come fairly close to big titles wins in the past - in fact, he's wearing one right now! Mike's got the night off, after a hard-earned victory, so Jimmy will be warming up against One Skinny White Guy's loud mouthed foul mannered sister, Amy Stephens! Rules: Standard singles. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- SINGLES MATCH Nemesis vs. Mike Van Siclen -> One newcomer who HAS managed to get something going is Nemesis - he picked up a big win over Pierre, and now he sets his sights on the returnee whose return has been somewhat less than stellar. Can Mike Van Siclen bring his career back on track, or will Nemesis pick up another win and get that much closer to something... awesome...? Rules: Standard singles match. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- SINGLES MATCH "Hollwood" Spike Jenkins vs. "The Ace" Pierre Donette --> With Bruce Blank taking the night off, and the results of Blank vs. Akira still unknown, what is a booker to do? That's right - STALL! Newcomer Pierre Donette hasn't gotten much going lately. Let's see if he can turn it around against the Impatient IN Title Contender, Spike Jenkins! Rules: Standard singles match. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- OPENING PROMO: J3 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

"Wu-Tang Clan comin at ya!” “Watch ya step kid…” “Watch ya step kid…” “Watch ya step kid…” The crowd jumps to their feet as “Protect Ya Neck” by Wu-Tang Clan hits and Akira Kaibatsu walks out moments later to the adulation of the fans. He wastes no time at all, immediately heading to the ring, from time to time tugging on an elbow pad or running a hand through his hair as he walks down. “Ladies and Gentlemen, the following is a singles match scheduled for one fall! First, hailing from Sendai, Japan, weighing in tonight at one hundred and ninety-five pounds… ‘THE DIVINE WIND’ AAAAAKIRA KAAAAAAIIIIIBAAAAAATSSUUUUU!” “And out comes Akira,” says Mak over the screaming crowd, “who after an unsuccessful International Title bid on Smarkdown is determined to get back on the winning track versus MANSON, who seeks the same after consecurive losses to Nemesis and old tag partner JJ Johnson.” “Fat chance. MANSON beat him hardcore styles some time ago, he’ll do the same here.” Kaibatsu heads up the ring steps and through the ropes he enters, going to his corner and beginning his warm-ups as the lights drop. The arena sits dark, silent as a guttural, distorted and disturbed, almost demonic warbling plays over the speakers, bringing the crowd to its feet as tension in the arena builds and seconds pass... ...then a final growl kicks “Scientific Remote Viewing” by Cephalic Carnage into full gear, as the lights flare up and seizure-inducing strobes rapidly pulse. The crowd jeers MANSON as he throws aside the curtain and enters the arena, the hood of his robe obscuring his visage as he pauses at the head of the ramp, looking over the sea of humanity before heading down the aisle. “And his opponent, hailing from Denver, Colorado, USA, weighing in tonight at two hundred and thirty pounds… MMMMMMAAAANNNNNSOOONNN!” He undoes his belt as he heads up the steps, letting his robe hang open and entering through the ropes. Immediately turning toward his corner, he ascends the turnbuckles and flicks off his hood, then slowly raises both arms and flashes the horns to the crowd. He takes a moment to bask in the lights and camera flashes, taking in the atmosphere, then hops down, placing his robe over the post and warming up. “Let me remind everyone, these two are not strangers. Johnson and MANSON defeated the Asian Underground consisting of Akira Kaibatsu and his now rival Michael Cross for their Tag Championship, not to mention MANSON defeating Kaibatsu for the Hardcore Title Number One Contendership.” *DING DING!* The bell rings as MANSON and Akira emerge from their corners, eventually coming into a lock-up. Kaibatsu is easily overpowered as MANSON pushes him about the ring, eventually breaking in favor of a side headlock. Clasping his hands together, he attempts to squeeze Akira’s cranium, who forces him off with a push to the ropes. He bounces off and knocks Kaibatsu to the mat with a shoulderblock, and as he stands, he puts on the headlock once again. “Headlockresu by MANSON early, perhaps knowing it would be difficult to keep up with the Divine Wind should he get going.” His arm around the neck, he snaps Kaibatsu over and onto the mat with a hip throw, forcing him onto his back and keeping the headlock on. However, Kaibatsu gets to his feet and with the assistance of a few rights to the kidneys, he manages to loosen the grip and push MANSON off into the ropes once again. MANSON comes back toward Kaibatsu, who this time catches him with a dead on European uppercut. The Bull staggers back as Kaibatsu heads in, striking him with another uppercut and forcing him into the ropes. He grabs MANSON by the wrist and attempts the whip, who reverses and sends Kaibatsu hurtling into the ropes instead. He finds himself caught in MANSONosity’s mighty grip, albeit momentarily as he soon finds himself being thrown overhead with a belly to belly! “Railgun by MANSON, easily tossing Kaibatsu clear overhead.” “That’s the explosive power and strength of MANSON right there and Akira will have to deal with it all night at this rate!” Kaibatsu stands and immediately catches a knee to the stomach by MANSON. He lurches over, hanging on to the ropes, then is shot back up by a kick to the chest by MANSON. Pulling him off the cables, MANSON wraps his arms around Kaibatsu’s frame once more, trapping an arm, and begins to lift, looking for a belly to belly slam this time, but Akira drives an elbow into his clavicle. MANSON drops Kaibatsu, who hits him with an uppercut, knocking him down to the mat. He begins to stand immediately, as Kaibatsu hits the ropes. His opponent hunched over, Kaibatsu rolls over his back, grabbing his arm on the way down and armdragging him clear out of the ring! “A float over armdrag on MANSON, tossing him out of the ring, now what does Kaibatsu have planned?” MANSON comes to a stand in front of the announce table, as Kaibatsu holds a fist up and pats his elbow pad as the fans begin to chant. He charges toward the ropes, bouncing off and heading toward MANSON… “A-KIR-A!” “A-KIR-A!” “A-KIR-A!” “A-KIR---“ However, MANSON lunges out of the way, leaving Kaibatsu laying as he crashes against the announce table! “Akira went for the suicide uppercut, hitting hard out in front of us, but he gets nothing as MANSON avoids it!” “Not only is MANSON strong, he’s smart. Kaibatsu should’ve known better than to try at this point on someone like him!” MANSON’s eyes turn toward a chair on the outside, and smiling widely, he stands and snatches it, and with a clang, closes it shut. As Kaibatsu stands, MANSON stalks toward him, but the Divine Wind manages to get up a kick to the stomach. MANSON drops the chair slightly, allowing Kaibatsu to step in with another uppercut, freeing the chair from his hands. Kaibatsu grabs on an attempts a whip, but MANSON holds his ground and reverses, sending him directly into the ringpost! “KAIBATSU INTO THE POST!” “YES! KILL HIM!” The Bull lifts the deadweight Kaibatsu off the mats and rolls him back into the ring, just as Kivell was about to count both out. He slides in and goes for a cover… ONE! TWO! THR—NO! Akira’s arm hangs lazily in the air as MANSON quickly gets to his feet and pulls him up. Holding him by his head and an arm in a facelock, MANSON brings knees up into the abdomen, causing Kaibatsu to go down as soon as MANSON releases. Waiting for Kaibatsu to stand, MANSON tugs on an elbowpad, and as soon as he does, MANSON brings his arm forth, looking for the Lariat, but Kaibatsu ducks. He comes back with a chop to MANSON’s chest, causing him to reel back. He hits another chop, as MANSON goes back further and into the ropes. A European uppercut causes his head to rock back, as Kaibatsu pulls him off the ropes, but instead of attempting the whip, he goes behind MANSON with a hammerlock, then pulls him back out front, face to face, and taking him down with a clothesline! “CRASH AND BURN BY KAIBATSU!” The Sendai native keeps the hold on and picks MANSON back up, and after placing the arm around his head, he lifts him up. For a few seconds which seem like an eternity to MANSON he keeps him up there, but it soon ends with a brainbuster, spiking MANSON’s head into the mat!” “And now the stalling brainbuster! Cover!” ONE! TWO! KICKOUT! Kaibatsu allows MANSON to stand, and as he gets to a knee, he attempts to step up onto the knee and unleash a shining gamengiri, but MANSON ducks under the leg. Popping up onto his feet, MANSON grabs hold of him from behind, lifts and drops him behind with a backdrop suplex! Kaibatsu bounces off the mat, as MANSON grabs hold of his legs and attempts to step in between, but he kicks him off and away, disallowing the set up for the Curbstomp. “A reversal of the shining gamengiri allows MANSON to regain control, but the Curbstomp is avoided for the time being!” Kaibatsu comes up and lunges forward, smashing MANSON’s jaw with the European uppercut, but MANSON comes back with an elbow to the face. Kaibatsu lands a chop to the chest, but MANSON then casually rakes Kaibatsu’s eyes. The blinded Akira is helpless as MANSON takes him down with a high knee to the face, then once he hits the mat, MANSON lifts him up and across his shoulders with a fireman’s carry. He throws Kaibatsu off, dropping him down across both knees! Kaibatsu bounces off, grabbing his abdominals, as MANSON heads after him and picks him up once again. “FIREMAN’S DOUBLE KNEE GUTBUSTER! He’s in grave danger if MANSON can follow up!” He stands as MANSON stalks after him, but Kaibatsu gets up a chop to the chest, knocking MANSON back a step. He comes forward again, this time spinning and looking for a roaring elbow! However, Kaibatsu slaps MANSON flush across the face, putting a stop to that, but not the other, as MANSON comes back with a spinning back elbow, catching Kaibatsu in the jaw. With his back open, MANSON grabs and lifts Kaibatsu up with an inverted facelock, but the crowd doesn’t get to see the end result, as Akira goes up and over behind MANSON, preventing the possible end. “Spinning elbow to the jaw, but MANSON cannot capitalize, as he tried to put the nail in the coffin but couldn’t.” “With MANSON it’s only a matter of time, Mak.” Kaibatsu steps in front of MANSON, grabbing hold with a three-quarters chancery. He attempts to go up the ropes, looking for the Divine Wind, but MANSON has it scouted, as he fights Kaibatsu off and shoves him onto the ropes, sitting him on the top. Reaching over Kaibatsu’s shoulder once again, MANSON grabs him by the head in the inverted facelock and lifts him up, pulling him back into the boundaries of the ring with the other hand on his tights… and SPIKES HIM ONTO HIS HEAD WITH AN INVERTED BRAINBUSTER!! “I don’t know what to call it as of yet, but it’s for sure an inverted brainbuster and Kaibatsu is down!” “I told you!” ONE!!!! TWO!!!! THREE!!!!! *DING DING!* “Your winner by PINFALL… MMMAAANNNNSOOOONNN!” booms Funyon, as MANSON rolls away from Kaibatsu. “Throwing Akira into the post helped, but a win is a win...” “Kaibatsu should’ve learned to never fuck with the MANSON.” “Enough. Up next, Tom Flesher defends the Cruiserweight Championship versus Landon Maddix in our main event, so stay tuned…”

Storm returns from a commercial for US Government-brand freedom: 'Desire freedom from oppressive dictators and the like? Don't worry, you'll be getting some US Government-brand freedom at some point in time, maybe, but don't hold your breath or anything' and shows a bustling hallway. Storming down the hallway is Jimmy the Doom, Lois the Unethical right behind her man. Jimmy glances at each door as he passes, and finally comes upon the only one that really matters, the one that reads "Joseph Peters". Jimmy barges in, ignores the harrumphing secretary, and practically kicks down the SWF commissioner's door. "Damn you people, don't you ever fucking knock!" roars Peters. "Several of quietings belonging for you," mutters Doom. "You just didn't tell me to shut up in my own office, did you?" questions Joe. Doom doesn't bother to answer, but instead wipes a smear of blood off his forehead and glances at it. This proves to be a mistake, as Jimmy nearly begins retching, but manages to hold back his Doomtopian spew. "Wanting...Skulls...with...nowness...Crimson...punch," Jimmy says. "Can you fucking translate for this idiot?" Peters asks, turning towards Lois. "He says he wants the Crimson Skull right now," Lois says. "Out of the question. There's no way I'm giving up something this big with Genesis around the corner," Joe replies. "Bagged to shittery," Jimmy mumbles. "Justings for safetyness my own on none attackations, to being without Skull, Heff, matched inning of run?" "You need to just keep a blackboard with you and write this shit down, because there is no way I understood any of that," Joe states. "Jimmy wants to know if you can at least prevent the Crimson Skull or Heff from attacking him until Genesis, especially as it pertains to interfering in matches, because he doesn't want to lose a match or a belt due to a run-in," Lois the Unethical explains. "Hey, this is Joe Peters you're talking to. What do you think?" "Not for having beened much obviousness." "What did he say?" Peters asks. "What? Oh, uh, he said that if you're taking responsibility, it's obvious what the outcome will be," translates Lois. Snickering slightly, the Doomtopians take their leave of Peters, leaving him to wonder how innocent that last statement was. As they walk to their dressing room, Lois turns to speak to Jimmy. "I guess we need to start checking the druids before the match at the very least." Jimmy nods, and the Doomtopian duo begin eating noise from rough, wooden troughs as Storm fades to something else.

FADE IN *SIGH* Mike Van Siclen opens the door to his locker room after an unreasonably difficult match with the newcomer Nemesis. “Fucking greenhorn almost broke my nose,” he thinks to himself. “Where’s the JL when you really need it? They don’t pay me enough to get potatoed by some fucking newb!” He stumbles over to the bench and sits down heavily to begin taking off his boots… THUMP! … And smacks his head against the concrete floor as he skids backwards off the Crisco-covered bench! “Very funny, smartass!” Van Siclen mutters to himself. Eventually he picks himself up and heads into the shower. “A hot shower is just what I need to get these knots out of my shoulders… I’ll deal with Wildchild later.” Van Siclen tosses his clothes behind him as he staggers into the shower. FIVE MINUTES LATER… AAAAAAAAAAH! Everyone in the hallway turns in shock as Mike Van Siclen storms out of his locker room, soaked to the bone and wearing nothing but a towel… … And with freshly-dyed aquamarine skin and hair. “I’ll kill him!” roars Van Siclen, his eyes wide with rage. “I’m gonna (bleep)-ing kill him!” Van Siclen storms off, soaking wet, in the vicinity of Peters’ office… As we: FADE OUT

Storm returns from a commercial for something distinctly Canadian, perhaps spaghetti or maybe koala bears, and the dead whale from Smarkdown (What? It was some quality camera work. Besides, the Blank boys like it around so they can point their fingers and say "Least we don't smell as bad as that." Of course, Bruce sometimes sits all by himself in the locker room, whipping himself with an extension cord, also known as the Blank family's formal belt, and lamenting that he can't stink worse than a dead whale.) pans around before settling on Mak Francis and the Suicide King. "Welcome back to Storm, live from Winnipeg!" beams the Franchise. "Judging from the fatty-fat fat-fats, it should be called Winnipig," replies King. "Oh, come on, King, most of the people here aren't any bigger than the porkers you bang," Mak points out. "I am totally going to loosen the screws on your wheelchair later tonight," King says. "Anyway, we've got a bit of an impromptu match scheduled, as Jimmy the Doom is set to take on Amy Stephens. It seems that Joe Peters wants to see how the Hardcore champ and newly-awarded number one contender to the World title, Jimmy the Doom, handles himself against a member of the Stephens family," Mak says. "Of course, it's not the talented member, however Peters would be stupid to throw Jimmy the fucking Doom to Toxxic. So, basically, I'm saying that I'm surprised Peters hasn't already thrown Doom to Toxxic." A command of "Cease all noise functions, humans!" as the blasting opening of "Blitzkrieg Bop" by the Ramones fires up, leading to a cheer from the crowd. After a few seconds Amy comes out onto the stage with a can of Stella Artois in her hand and charges down to the ring. "Ladies and gentlemen, the following match is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first, from Nottingham, England, she weighs in at one hundred, seventy-one pounds, the Punk-Rock Princess, AAAMEEEE STEEEPHENS!" Funyon roars. Amy climbs to the second buckle, raises her lager and leads the crowd in a chorus: “HEY! HO! LET’S GO!" “HEY! HO! LET’S GO!" “HEY! HO! LET’S GO!” “HEY! HO! LET’S GO!” As Joey launches into the first verse proper Amy drops down to the ring again, takes a few pulls from her lager and then puts it down on the apron before getting ready for the match. "This Canadian crowd is pretty fond of Amy Stephens," Mak notes. "Maybe she reminds them of Elizabeth II." "If the Canucks want a British queen, they should look at Michael, not Amy," King says, then adds in a hearty "Oooh!" "Dude, you can't 'ooh' yourself. You fail," Mak replies. Suddenly, the lights go out, and the sound of marching feet fills the arena. A single word bubbles up and grows louder with each footfall as the chanting, marching druids near the ring. "DOOM!" "DOOM!" "DOOM!" "DOOM!" The lights snap back on to reveal the ring completely surrounded by hooded druids, but this is a SWF ring, and it doesn't give up despite being outnumbered. What the hell am I talking about? Boots Randolph's "Yakety Sax" brings things back to reality, and the first couple of Doomtopia, Jimmy the Doom and Lois the Unethical emerge, Jim's title belt folded and held firmly in Lois's grasp. "And her opponent, being accompanied by Lois the Unethical, hailing from Doomopolis, Doomtopia and weighing two hundred, thirty pounds, he is the current Hardcore champion and number one contender to the World title! The Straight-Bread Sensation, JJIIIMMEEE THE DOOOOM!" Funyon bellows. Jimmy makes his way down the ramp, a bandage covering his forehead acting as reminder of his last two brushes with The Crimson Skull and Heff. The Straight-Breader reaches the first druid when a steel pipe slips from the druid's sleeve, and the cloaked figure wheels around to bash Doom in the face! EFFIGY! Jimmy stumbles back, and the hood is flipped off to reveal Heff! The evil assistaint raises the pipe a second time and nails the Hardcore champ square on the forehead! INVIDIOUS! "Oh, God damn it!" shouts Mak. "You've got to love his determination! And, look, he's using an actual weapon, not a rock," King points out. "I think that makes it worse," Francis mutters. Amy starts to exit the ring, perhaps to help out her opponent, but a swarm of security guards scramble over the barricades to pull Heff away, while several more rush down to take over for their colleagues during the scuffle. After a minor struggle, Heff is hauled away, clutching his bloody pipe, while Jimmy slumps against the barrier, bleeding profusely from his head. "Uh, fans, we are going to take a quick commercial break so that Jimmy the Doom can be evaulated to see if he'll be competing tonight," Mak says. "Come on, this guy can take a lot worse, I know, I've seen it! He's indefatigable," King says, busting out a fancy ten dollar word. Mak simply stares at his commentating partner, trying to use context clues to figure out the definition of 'indefatigable' (As any good teacher will tell you to do when encountering a foreign word). "Are you telling me you don't know what indefatigable means?" King asks. "Not being able to be fat?" Mak offers. "Swing and a miss," King mutters. ----COMMERCIAL BREAK TIME!---- The commercial opens on a middle-aged man, wearing a gray suit, standing in front of a nice oak desk. "Are you old, or kind of gross? Have you been assaulted either mentally, emotionally, verbally, psychologically, or physically, especially by a mime? Have you or a family member been victimized by snakes on a plane or train, in Spain or Maine, in the rain, or near David Blaine? Do you need to know a good place to get a burger in the greater Orlando area? If so, call me, Bob Loblaw, attorney at law, and let me lob a law bomb for you! The number is 262-562-5291, that's Bob-Lob-Law1," Loblaw says. A small banner appears at Bob's waist, displaying the following message: Bob Loblaw's Law Bomb Lobbing Law Firm (262)-562-5291 (BOB)-LOB-LAW1 ----END COMMERCIAL BREAK!---- “Welcome back from the commercial break,” Mak Francis says, “and after that disgusting and unnecessary attack by Heff we finally have a match underway here, although Jimmy The Doom may be wishing that we didn’t.” “I certainly am,” Suicide King mutters, “who thought this would make good TV? I don’t blame Heff for trying to help our viewing figures by eliminating this from our schedule.” “Well, Doom has made it clear to the referee that he’s still prepared to compete, so they‘re going at it,” the Franchise reports, “but I don’t think Jimmy will find a very sympathetic opponent in Amy Stephens.” “And justifiably so,” King snorts, “if he’s still willing to wrestle, she’s within her rights to take him apart. It’s his choice.” The cameras have now panned to the ring which shows Amy with the much taller Doom in a headlock. However, Jimmy fires off some elbows into the padded ribs of his opponent (padded with more Amy), then pushes Stephens into the ropes. The Punk-Rock Princess rebounds and collides into Doom with a shoulder block, a move that causes neither wrestler to fall back to the mat. This result clearly doesn’t please Amy and she heads for the ropes again, this time rebounding and swinging an arm for a clothesline - however, Jimmy ducks (not an easy feat, given their size difference), then pops up behind the startled English girl and grabs a rear waistlock before hoisting her off her feet and dumping her down with the corkscrew Germna suplex known to Doomtopians the world over as the Jimmy-Plex! *COPROLITE!* Doom shakes his head groggily on completion of the move, then piles on top to make a cover… ONE! TW- -but Amy kicks out! Jimmy doesn’t waste any time in grabbing Amy and bringing her back up to a vertical base, then fires off a Hand of Doom to the girl’s throat before delivering a front snap kick that catches Amy right on her chin and sends her down again. Doom once more goes for the cover… ONE! TWO!! …but Amy kicks out again! “King, to me it looks like Jimmy may be trying to get the match won quickly,” Mak speculates, “he’s got to still be feeling that pipeshot from Heff, and he probably figures that the longer this match goes on, the more chance there is of him getting worn down.” “Possibly,” King hedges, “but I’d say that if he’s thinking that way, he’s stupider than I thought. Amy Stephens is as tough as Margaret Thatcher, and Jimmy would be better off putting her in a resthold until he feels better. Thankfully he’s not going to make the match quite that dull. But anyway, Amy’s not going to go down quickly.” “Unlike Megan Skye.” “Word.” Jimmy’s offensive still seems to be rolling along as he brings Amy up and Irish whips her into the turnbuckles - however, he takes too long setting up the 73.5267.1094Q80.16 and Amy dodges out of the way, causing Jimmy to crash into the buckles, then headbutts the back of her opponent’s skull! Jimmy staggers away clutching his head where Heff hit him, but Amy doesn’t seem much better off as the Doom’s legendarily hard head outlasts even her notoriously thick skull! However, she has better luck with the spinning Polish Hammer she lands immediately afterwards, then pumps one arm in the hope of starting a crowd chant. She’s partially successful. “LET’S GO A-MY!” “DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!” “LET’S GO A-MY!” “DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!” “Who’s Amy Doom?” King asks, looking perplexed. Jimmy gets back up again but Amy grabs him behind the head, jumps up and then falls back to drive his face into her knees upon landing with the Facebreaker. Jimmy staggers backwards clutching his face, his beautiful face while Amy gets to her feet, then charges at him and drives him to the floor with a Lou Thesz press complete with punches to follow! Referee Soapdish makes the five-count and Amy complies by breaking, then goes to the turnbuckles and climbs to the second rope. Jimmy starts to rise and Amy, showing great daring for her, comes off with a second-rope clothesline to the lanky Hardcore Champion, then makes a cover! ONE! TWO!! …but Jimmy kicks out! However the Straight-Breader seems rather dazed and Amy perhaps figures that it’s time to try and take this match home - accordingly she slaps her right leg to signal for the Vodka Kick and as Doom gets to his rather unsteady feet she bounces off the ropes ready to leap up and kick him in the back of the head… but Jimmy scoops her off the mat and dumps her back down again with a TILT-A-WHIRL INVERTED ATOMIC DROP, BITCH~! *PERAMBULATE!* Amy staggers backwards and Jimmy boots her in the gut, then delivers a DDT! He then rolls the former Hardcore Gamer’s Champion over onto her back and makes a cover… ONE! TWO!! …but Amy kicks out once more! Jimmy grabs the Punk Rock Princess and brings her up to her feet, then applies an armwringer… but not just any armwringer, no. Because this one leads to a knee to the (fairly substantial) gut… then one to the head… “He’s setting up for DOOMSDAY, King!” Mak exclaims. Sure enough, Jimmy fires a few kicks into the back of Amy’s legs and brings her down to her knees, then whips his foot towards her head… *wsssshhhhh!* …and Amy ducks, not only evading the blow but also causing Jimmy to pumphandle himself as he comes down astride the arm that is still holding onto Amy’s! Stephens keeps hold of the Doom’s trapped limb and heaves upwards, forcing Jimmy to do an impromptu forward somersault to avoid being cut in half by his own arm, then releases her hold on her opponent and runs for the ropes. She rebounds and leaps into the air, looking for a running diving headbutt… but Jimmy rolls aside! Amy hits her head on the mat and gets up to her knees cursing while the Doom rises back to his feet… at which point a SWF security guard wheels around to face the ring, clambers over the barricade, scoops up a stray chair, and slides inside the squared circle, revealing… “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “It’s the Crimson Skull!” Mak yells in alarm as the big masked man charges at Jimmy the Doom, “Jimmy, turn around!” Too late. *CLANG!!* The Doom goes down, but Skull isn’t satisfied and raises his weapon for another blow! *CLANG!!* “This is not necessary!” Mak roars, “first Heff and now this!? Get him out of there!” *DING-DING-DING!* Regular security doesn’t seem too eager to wade in and remove the monstrous Skull - Amy Stephens, on the other hand, is always up for a fight and has slipped out of the ring to grab her own chair, then comes back in. The Crimson Skull sees her using his EvilVision™ and turns to face her… …then laughs a booming laugh. “HA HA HA HA HA! HA HA HA HA HA! HA HA HA HA HAAAAAA!” [“I feel like I’m watching the end of a Thundercats episode,” Suicide King mutters.] Crimson Skull, still laughing, puts his chair down and climbs out of the ring (not taking his eyes from Amy, mind - he may be an evil supervillain but he’s not that stupid), then starts leaving up the entrance ramp. Meanwhile security group around him in a sort of shame-faced way while Nick Soapdish checks on Jimmy The Doom and Amy shouts foul insults from the ring. “The Crimson Skull’s campaign of terror continues,” Mak Francis says, “and as yet we don’t know where it’ll end! We’ll be back after these commercials!” STARWIPE~!

Funyon ”Ladies and gentlemen I have been instructed to ask you all to please rise for the singing of the Russian National Anthem” Mak: “What the hell?” Funyon stops for a moment, looks around the ring and realizes that it’s empty, then he looks down at his cue cards, flips through them to find the right one. When he returns to the one that has the introduction for the Bolsheviks written on it he stops, then he flips it over to find the actual introductions for tonight written on that side. After a silent curse at the cheapness of Joseph Peters Funyon proceeds to do his job, the only job he actually does, he gets paid to just announce the participants and then the winner after each show, about once a week with no other responsibilities. No wonder he gets death threats 2-3 times a week from guys who want that job Funyon: “Now please stand up and give the man who describes himself as “Flesher-lite” the proper ovation he deserves” BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!! Mak: “Flesher-lite? Does that mean he has a battery up his ass and lights comes out of his mouth?” King: “You’re thinking of a Flashlight Mak. I think he’s referring to Tom Flesher” Mak: “Wouldn’t he be a Flesher-Heavy them? Seeing as he weighs like 30 pounds more” King: “Don’t ask me I just work here” ¤ OUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUEEEEEE ¤ King: “Ah crap I thought they wouldn’t find me in Canada” ¤ OUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUEEEEEE ¤ Mak: “King? King? Get out from under the desk” ¤ OUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUEEEEEE ¤ King: “Not until the police are gone” When sirens stop assaulting everyone’s ears and The Team takes over that assault but belting out a stunning lounge lizard version of “Hyphy Juice” the Suicide King comes out of hiding from under his desk, it’s just Mike Van Siclen and not the Mounties out to get King. Funyon: “Introducing first, from Harrison, Illinois home of the world’s biggest hairball. Here is a man known all over the world as part of Hollywood Boulevard and has held numerous titles in the SWF it can only be MIKE VAN SICLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEN!!!” Mak: “World’s biggest hairball?” King: “Ignore Funyon he’s been hitting the sauce again. By the way fans this will be the SWF’s very first “POP UP WRESTLING” match” *POP* “The Suicide King is right you know” Mak: “It’s a little something to help the fans at home appreciate all the subtle nuances of Mike Van Siclen and Nemesis.” King: “It’s our way of pretending that MVS and Nemesis HAVE subtle nuances” Van Siclen goes through his elaborate pre-match ritual of crossing himself, kissing his fingers and then pointing towards the roof of the MTS Center. *POP* Mike Van Siclen has been advocating roof safety for years as the official spokesperson for the “don’t let the roof cave in on you during a wrestling match” foundation With bold strides the awesomeness of Mike Van Siclen increases as he walks along the rows and rows of fans who all want to be him but just don’t have his knack for stirring up shit or getting small men from the Bahamas suspended unfairly. Mike decides to grace the fans at ringside with a close up of a REAL man to brighten their lives, to say that he was looking at the first 4-5 rows to see if he can spot a Wildchild somewhere is a scurrilous lie! *POP* “After returning Van Siclen has not had much luck against non-cardboard opponents After making sure that his arch-Nemesis isn’t at ringside (Wait a minute, gimmick infringement!) Mike steps into the ring the way only an arrogant prick can, he should know because he is one and he enters by rolling under the bottom rope and sitting in the corner while waiting. He doesn’t have to wait long as the Professor soon appears much to the displeasure of the Canadian crowd. BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-Squared King: “The crowd is getting down right mathematical tonight!” Mak: “I hate it when they do that, soon we’ll have them chanting linear equations and all hell will break loose.” SINE, SINE, COSINE, SINE TWO-POINT-FOUR-ONE-OH-NINE!! Professor Attenborough stops dead in his tracks, he’s a professor of archaeology and scientology he loathes math! *POP* “William Attenborough wanted to get into acting but there are currently no plans for “Grumpy Old Men 3” Professor: ¤Sigh¤ “You know I was going to let you off the hook and say that we were busy punishing the people of Winnipeg for moving to such a cold, frigid barren wasteland” BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-Cubed Professor: “SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP!!” A-SQUARED PLUS B-SQUARED!! A-SQUARED PLUS B-SQUARED!! The professor just stands there looking totally confused, he doesn’t realize that the proper response to that chant is “C-SQUARED” Professor: “Alright, fine I’m leaving and then you can just watch Elk and The tear this guys apart again” YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!! ELK RULES!! THE RULES!! King: “We seriously have to get out of Canada” Professor: “Oh you like that? Well in that case: Mike Van Siclen for failing to beat Elk you must be punished – I call upon NEMESIS!! *POP* “Calling on Nemesis without Hubris is bad form” ¤ BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoommmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm ¤ *POP* “I realize that the concepts of Nemesis and Hubris may not be well known to most Americans, don’t worry all it means is that “The Big man is about to kick ass” that’s all you need to know.” ¤ Rattle, rattle, rattle ¤ King: “Is that your knees rattling in fear Mak?” Mak: “Hell no” King: “Oh right, the whole paralyzed thing” *POP* “Mak Francis actually has a little bit of feelings below the waste now, he can move his big toe to the beat of “We will Rock you” but doesn’t like to let on in case Spike Jenkins is watching” The pyrotechnics go off without a hitch and without setting the arena ablaze allowing Nemesis to step through the smoke without having to worry about the sprinkler system going off all around him. AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH IT’S A GIANT SKELETON HELP!! King: “Someone hasn’t been watching our TV shows lately” *POP*”It was this guy” (Arrow to a guy 3 rows behind Mak Francis who just about peed his pants when the illuminated Nemesis came out looking like a mythological monster) The lights slowly return to the arena revealing that it’s not actually a skeleton but the 7’5’’ Colossus AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH IT’S A BIG ASS GUY HELP!! *POP*” Same guy again, he doesn’t get out much but strangely also doesn’t watch a lot of TV.” King: “Congratulations we’ve just found the most annoying fan in the world” Mak: “It’ll be interesting to see Nemesis fight someone a bit closer to his size, so far he’s only really taken on Cruiserweights” *POP* “Mak Francis is trying to get back to the subject at hand, bless his cotton socks” King: “Not by much Mak, yeah Van Siclen is a bit bigger and yeah I think he may have held the Hardcore title or something.” Mak: “Yup if I’m not mistaken he took it out for a cup of coffee” After seeing just how big Nemesis actually is Mike Van Siclen has gotten up on his feet and is looking a little worried, maybe he thought that it was a camera trick of CGI magic or something but now that he’s face to – eh – chest with Nemesis he realizes that it’s not, Nemesis is a big brick shithouse ¤ RING-A-DING-DING ¤ *POP* “Manson invented ringing the bell.” Mak: “Here we go, this should be a very interesting match” King: “Oh yeah I’m sure it’ll be a technical marvel the likes we haven’t seen since Karl Gotch was around” Van Siclen spots the camera man pointing the camera straight at him as he looks up at the big man, feeling confident, cool, calm and collective Mike flashes a grin and then does the “Pistol finger” at the camera to show that he’s got this whole thing under control. ¤ Decent Pop ¤ Feeling invigorated by the decent pop he just got Mike decides to grab the bull by the horns (not literally he can’t reach Nemesis horns) and gets in the first shot of the night. And the first shot is a Forearm, so all those of you that had “forearm” in the pool collect your winnings now. The forearm doesn’t look like much of a winner for Mike Van Siclen as Nemesis hardly even flinches as Mike Van Siclen strikes him mid-chest. Bound and determined to do better than he did against The and Elk Van Siclen rears back and strikes Nemesis once with little to no reaction from Nemesis. King: “Ehhhh Mike? You may want to break out something a little more high impact than that” Mike agrees and unleashes the deadly, the devastating, the horribly horrific ¤ Slap ¤ Bitch slap! *POP* “Contrary to popular belief the bitch slap wasn’t invented on the TV show “Dynasty“ Van Siclen just grins after he struck Nemesis right on the cheek, the big man even has a hand up to his cheek just to show how devastating the bitch slap was. Then he replies with one of his own, only he’s not very up on “bitch slapping etiquette” so he retaliates with a gigantic overhead chop that strikes Mike Van Siclen right between the eyes And there ain’t much room there I can tell you ¤ CHOP ¤ RADIUS OF AN ELIPSE!! King: “What?” Mak: “Don’t ask me I had a Wrestling scholarship” After taking a monster hand to the head Van Siclen staggers around the ring, rubber legged like his name was Gumby. When Gumby Van Siclen staggers close to Nemesis he fires off yet another huge chop to the top of Mike’s head with a similar rubber legged result in tow. The third chop finally knocks Van Siclen down, as the might spruce, or maybe the larch he falls looking like 2 little midget lumberjacks chopped him down. *POP* “You know I never wanted to be the guy that writes pops ups for music videos and wrestling matches.“ King: “Being on the ground is a bad place to be when you’re in there with Nemesis” Mak: “I can think of one worse” *POP* “I, I wanted to be a LUMBERJACK!!“ Just to help Mak prove his point Nemesis drops a gigantic elbow on Mike Van Siclen, well not JUST to help Mak prove a point also to hurt Mike of course but it does so nicely underline the point Mak was trying to make that the worse position to be is UNDER Nemesis King: “Oh I got an even worse point than that” *POP* “Leaping from tree to tree as they float down the mighty rivers of British Columbia! The Fir! The Larch! The Redwood! The mighty Scots Pine“ Nemesis stops for a moment and looks at Professor Attenborough as they try to figure out what position is worse than being under Nemesis. Then the good professor uses his genius level IQ and figures it it, with a snap of the finger ¤ Snap ¤ And then a point of that same finger ¤ Point ¤ The Professor points up in the air with a grin. *POP* “The plucky little Aspen! The great limping rude tree of Nigeria!“ Nemesis picks Mike Van Siclen up by the throat and the tights, his hand may be NEAR the crotch but let it be known that at no point during his lifting of Mike Van Siclen does Nemesis touch wiener! He’s all about beating people up, not groping them inappropriately. Once Nemesis extends his arms and Mike Van Siclen is like 8 feet up in the air the Suicide King smiles and nods King: “Told you so, there was a worse place to be” Mak: “Then the WORST place ever has got to be-“ *POP* “The smell of fresh-cut timber! The crash of mighty trees!“ Mak looks at the professor who just stares at him blankly at first but then realizes what Mak just said. While grumbling something about lazy announcers and stupid pop up guys he nods to Nemesis. The big man takes two steps backwards while still keeping Mike pressed over his head until he’s up against the ropes. King: “I think you’re right” Mak: “Thank you” *POP* “The smell of fresh-cut timber! The crash of mighty trees!“ Mike doesn’t thank Mak Francis however as Nemesis drops him backwards over the top rope straight to the floor after a good 10 foot drop. It’s at this point in time that the professor is glad that Nemesis isn’t a Cruiserweight and thus doesn’t have to worry about disqualified. Actually that’s not true, he’s always been glad that Nemesis isn’t a Cruiserweight, then he wouldn’t be able to toy with his opponents like this. *POP* “¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ “ Van Siclen proves to be a resilient bastard besides from being a Flesher-Light as he doesn’t stay down on the mat for long after the drop. He gets back to his feet, staggers around the ring making sure to look really hurt as he adjusts his knee pad. *POP* “Sorry about that, we have found the problem and fixed it, we now return to our regular feature“ The professor urges Nemesis to not waste any more time than we’ve already wasted tonight and get Van Siclen back in the ring. Nemesis obliges by reaching over the top rope, grabbing his opponent by his blonde locks before pulling him up on the apron. Once he’s up there Mike Van Siclen bitch slaps Nemesis once more, grabs the big man by the horns (he can reach them cause Nemesis is bend over you see) and then throws himself off the apron like the ring was the Titanic and all the life boats were already in the water. GIGANTIC HOT SHOT!! *POP* “bitch “ *POP* “that’s enough of that, you were fired“ Not even a big man like Nemesis is immune to having his throat snapped down on the top rope and he does the mandatory gagging and choking stagger as Mike gives the camera a swift wave before entering the ring again. With Nemesis in such a vulnerable position Mike knows he has to make the most of it, that he HAS to hit something high impact very likely to take the big man down. He reaches down into his bag of tricks and finds his favourite hold. Mike rushes in, throws himself down as he wraps his legs around Nemesis’ right leg DROP TOE HOLD!! - - - Attempt *POP* “The drop toe hold has never won anyone a match but Mike Van Siclen came close once and thus keeps using the move“ Nemesis just stands there, feet firmly planted on the ground as Mike looks like a total idiot trying to force the big man off his feet like that. Well Mike doesn’t look like a total idiot for long, he’d NEVER do that so he releases the drop toe hold - - - - attempt and instead ratchets the impact up even higher by poking Nemesis in the eyes. Mak: “What’s next? He’ll pull down his pants and give him a purple nurple?” King: “It’d be a green nurple in this case” *POP* “In some countries the “Purple Nurple” is called a “Sheriff Star”: useless factoid #127“ But there are no nurples to be purpled tonight, Nemesis is not getting de-pantsed instead he’s about to be hit with 263 pounds of raging fury and underachievement as Mike Van Siclen hits Nemesis with THE BIG LARIAT!! ¤ LARIATO ¤ On Smarkdown the 220 pound Pierre Donette couldn’t get Nemesis down with a single lariat and on Storm Mike realizes that just because he’s got 43 extra pounds on him it doesn’t mean that HE can take down Nemesis with a single Lariat either. *POP* “I’m always confused, when is it a “Lariat” and when is it a “Clothesline”? And don’t get me started on a “Steiner-line” either” Mike goes to the corner the furthers away from Nemesis, obviously looking to put some distance between the two so he can build up a bit of momentum before hitting the Colossus once more. Sadly Van Siclen isn’t the fastest guy in the world and 3 extra steps doesn’t make him run that much faster, in fact he’s not even fast enough to duck under the steamboat sized boot that Nemesis raises in the air ¤ HUMONGO BOOT ¤ Sending Mike Van Siclen to the ground faster than a slut at a beach party. IRRESISTABLE FORCE TIMES 410 POUNDS EQUALS TROUBLE!! *POP* “Strangely enough that’s not the weirdest thing chanted at a wrestling event in Canada“ With Mike Van Siclen down Nemesis takes the Professor’s instructions to “just fall on the fucker” literally as he raises his hands in the air and then falls forward splashing down on top of Mike Van Siclen in a giant splash. King: “It might not have been the pretties move in wrestling but it’s working” Mak: “He could have crushed Mike’s ribs!” *POP* “If injured in Canada the SWF wrestlers would not benefit from the Canadian health care system as the federation insurance states that they must all be flown back to the states to be attended to by Dr. Jack Kivorkian. That’s what happens when you pick the cheapest healthcare service“ 1!!!! ………2!!! …………………Nope!! Either Van Siclen raise his shoulder or Nemesis sneezed but either way the count is broken and the match continues. *POP* “Fun Fact: record for most “Near falls” in an SWF match, 273“ As Nemesis gets up he slaps the claw on Mike Van Siclen’s forehead and then hoists him up in the air, holding him there for a moment like a total tool to give Mike a chance to knee Nemesis in the head. However Mike doesn’t seem to be a traditionalist and forgoes the kneeing of the head by being generally more concerned with trying to escape the claw hold. Only one other way to escape it then And Mike doesn’t know it, nor will he learn it now as Nemesis slams his opponent into the canvas with a mighty thud! *POP* “Originated during the Ancient Olympic games the Grecco-Roman Claw Slam has been a favourite of Greeks everywhere for centuries“ After getting to his feet Nemesis has no problems in leaving them once more as he plays “Hop on Pop” with Van Siclen playing the unfortunate role of “Pop” tonight as he receives the Colossus Drop GRAVITY IS A BITCH!! GRAVITY IS A BITCH!! GRAVITY IS A BITCH!! *POP* “AMEN!“ After the senton there is nothing left to do but remain on top of Mike Van Siclen as the referee gets down on his knees to count 1!!!! ………2!!!!! …………………3!!!!! ¤ DING-A-LING!! ¤ Funyon: “The winner of this match NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEMEEEEEEEE (Catches breath) SIS!! *POP* “Nemesis is now in line for something “Awesome”“ Mak: “Nemesis made it look easy out here tonight” King: “When you’re that big Mak everything is easy, except flying on an airplane.” *POP* “You know what else is awesome?“ *POP* “LUMBERJACKS!!“ Mak & King: Oh hell!! Thankfully we’re sent to a commercial break before the Pop-Up Mania drives the viewers away.

“So, Michael…” Joseph Peters looks up from his paperwork at the SWF World Heavyweight Champion sitting opposite him. However, any hopes that his cheerful smile may be returned shatter on the stony expression of the Englishman. “You see, I’ve brought you in here to ‘clear the air’ as it were,” Peters says, still smiling gamely, “because I’m aware that we may inadvertently have hired someone with some sort of ‘history’ with yourse-” “Can it, Peters,” the Sensation growls, “you’re talking bollocks. I know you hired Gabe because you know about our history. The smug bastard told me himself, said that you thought a match between us could be huge.” “Would you believe me if I told you that I said that because I could see him becoming big in this sport and you’re pretty much our top-drawing star at the moment?” Peters asks. “Take a wild guess.” “I’ll put that down as a ‘no’ then,” Joe sighs, then puts down his pen and looks the Englishman square in the eye. “Look, it’s like this. Everything in this business is around marketing and presentation.” “Everything?” Stephens asks, raising an eyebrow. “Everything that matters,” Peters responds, waving his hands to dismiss all other factors, “that’s why Nemesis goes out there wearing a black bodysuit with a green skeleton on it, why we don’t give away top-quality matches on free TV often - just enough to whet the appetite - and hey, even why you get pyro in your entrance. The trouble is,” the SWF Generalissimo continues, “you present us with a bit of a problem.” “Yeah?” “Yes,” Peters says. “Right now you draw, but you had your dramatic, out-of-nowhere comeback and instantly got involved with Landon Maddix, the man everyone loved to hate. Now you have the World Title, and that belt has got so much prestige that anyone holding it draws. But what happens when you lose it?” “You tell me,” Stephens says, although he clearly doesn’t like the turn this conversation has taken. “Well, for starters you’re English, and that’s never helpful,” Peters explains, “then there’s the fact that you’re best remembered for injuring and retiring a couple of popular wrestlers, you’re a little too handy with the put-downs even for the guys the crowd like, like Zyon… and to be honest,” he continues, “you’re not even as exciting to watch in the ring as you were. Without that belt, and without someone the crowd can hate for you to go up against, I’m seeing ticket sales dropping off. So I took action.” “You took action,” Stephens repeats. “As in, you hired a fucking mentalist just out of prison, prison for frickin’ manslaughter, and set him after me. The guy’s got three sixes tattooed on the back of his neck and has already broken the leg of a guy called Karl Winter, Peters - didn’t that give you a clue as to his mental state?” “I assure you, Gabriel Drake has had a full psychological assessment before being permitted to work in the SWF,” Peters says haughtily, “and if you have any proof that Drake was behind that unfortunate incident in Philadelphia, please lay it before the correct authorities. In the meantime, whether or not he ever actually progresses above curtain-jerking and makes it into the same portion of the card as you, the sight of this apparently-demented individual who… well,” he says reflectively, looking at the World Champion, “he doesn’t look any worse than you… anyway, no-one will take his garbage seriously, everyone will know he’s got some unfounded grudge against you and you’ll still be sympathetic. The crowd will be behind you, you’ll sell tickets and merchandise, we all make money.” He spreads his hands and smiles beatifically. “Everyone’s happy.” “Right, right,” Stephens says slowly. “Trouble is, I think there’s one thing you’re missing.” “Which is?” “It ain’t an ‘unfounded grudge’,” the World Champion says, getting to his feet, “you should’ve done a little more digging, Joe. Asked around a bit.” He turns and heads for the door. “See, Landon hated me for what I nearly did to him, but we both know that ‘nearly’ means fuck all. Besides, he wanted that match last year, he came up with the stipulation, yadda yadda yadda.” Stephens looks back over his shoulder and fixes Peters with his steel-grey eyes. “Gabe didn’t ask me to do what I did to him. I helped take away four years of his life, and a lot more besides. Now, I’m prepared to accept that he might be putting a slightly subjective spin on things, but when it comes down to it…” he sucks his breath in through his teeth, then exhales slowly, “…when it comes down to it, if he decides to share… I don’t know who the crowd will be cheering for.” Michael Stephens walks out through the door, away from Joe Peters and memories of his past. Peters, meanwhile, looks down at his notes again. “…we can work around that,” he mutters, noting as he does so that Stephens never asked about what Gabriel Drake’s psychological assessment showed. After all, the SWF employed Janus. Insanity, obsession, a tendency for random violence… none of these things have stopped people from working in the SWF. In the end, it’s all about the money. And, Peters reflects, looking at how Michael Stephens’ drawing power jumped after the Kibagami match… well, he’s a bigger star now than Kibagami was. So if someone was to knock him off, just imagine the gates they’d pull afterwards. Peters is acutely aware that his stars will have a limited shelf-life; Michael Stephens has already walked away once, and has enough money to do it again any time he chooses. He has taken, all through his career, from those above him and around him, to get where he is today. It would really be a waste if he decided to leave before he gave something back.

SWF Storm fades back into frame from the prior segment. The Canadian crowd inside the MTS Centre light up as the cameras cut down to the commentating team. “SWF Storm is on the air!” shouts Mak Francis, “The showed opened up with ‘The Canadian Dream’ JJ Johnson and we also had the debut of a new star, Ultimo Phantasmo! “And later on tonight, Tom Flesher squashes the cockroach!” “Or will Landon overcome the former World Heavyweight and Tag Team Champion and become the SWF Cruiserweight Champion?” “No, he will not!” King says with a stonewall grin. “But up next,” Mak says as he looks down at the schedule, “…Damn it.” “IT’S A SPIKE JENKINS MATCH!” “Sadly.” “Spike Jenkins takes on newcomer, ‘The Ace’ Pierre Donette! Lets go to the ring!” The camera cuts to the middle of the ring, where Funyon stands all snazzed up as usual. Holding a microphone in one hand, he makes the announcement. “The following contest is scheduled for one fall, with a twenty minute time limit! First, making his way to the ring!” White sparks shoot out of either side of the entrances ramp as "La Marseillaise" (The French National Anthem) plays. Donette walks from the back with a French Flag that he'll wave patriotically on the ramp before trailing down to the ring. “Coming to the ring…weighing in at a total of Two Hundred and Twenty-eight pounds…hailing from Marseille, France…he is ‘THHHHHHHHHHHHHE ACEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE’ PIERREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE DOOOOOOOOONETTTTTEEEEEEEEEE!” Once at the ring, he carefully enters through the ropes as to not desecrate the sanctity of the flag, and then stands in the middle of the ring to wave it a bit longer before handing it off to the ring crew for safe keeping. “AND HIS OPPONENT!” booms Funyon. Every light in the arena goes to full power as the Smarktron whites out. For a moment the only sound is that of a needle scratching over vinyl... And then *BAM* The heavy drumming of Norma Jean’s “Creating Something Out of Nothing, Only to Destroy It” blasts through the arena as the lyrics pierce the ears of everyone listening. “Like bringing a knife to a gun fight… Like Bringing A Knife To A Gun Fight… LIKE BRINGING A KNIFE TO A GUN FIGHT!” Bright white lights begin flashing at the entranceway. As the growls hit the crowd, Spike walks out wearing a black “Still Remains” hoodie, the hood covering most of his face. Spike drops down to one knee, leaving one arm to hang to the ground, while the other is firmly placed on his knee. After a few moments, Spike raises both arms into an “X”, symbolizing his Straight Edge life style. Spike rises to his feet and begins to make his way down the isle towards the ring. “Coming to the ring at this time…weighing in a total of two hundred and twenty pounds…hailing from Hollywood, California…representing the country of Cambodia…he is ‘Hollywoooooooood’ Spiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiike Jeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeenkinnnnnnnnsssssssssssssssss!!!” Spike makes his way completely around the ring and rolls underneath the bottom rope. He continues rolling until he hits dead center in the middle of the ring. Spike rises to one knee and resumes the position he was in at the top of the entranceway. One arm hanging to the ground, the other placed on his knee. Finally, Spike rises to his feet. He quickly peels off the hood, releasing his blonde, dyed hair free. He puts his arms together, forming an “X” across his chest, again promoting his Straight Edge life style. “Pierre is going to have his hands full tonight as he goes one-on-one with the motivated, number one contender to the International Title, Spike Jenkins!” “Pierre is a prodigy, King. He is a very talented youngster looking to climb the ladder of the SWF.” “‘The Ace’ is coming off a hard loss to Nemesis on Smarkdown…lets see if he can gain some momentum here.” Both competitors stand in their corners. When the referee is ready to begin, he signals for the bell. *Ding Ding Ding* “And this match is underway!” Both men shoot out of their corners towards each other in the center of the ring. Spike drops down, hooking Ace’s right leg and tripping him backwards to the mat. Jenkins jumps to his feet, still holding onto the ankle and looking to take advantage right away from the single leg takedown. Pierre tries to wiggle free, kicking at the hands of Jenkins, forcing him to release his grip. Spike calmly backs away, allowing Pierre to get to his feet. “Single leg takedown by Spike who wanted to follow it up with his patent chain-wrestling, but Pierre fought him off!” Both men circle around the ring, meeting in the center once again. They lock up in a collar-and-elbow tie up. ‘The Ace’ quickly moves forward, holding onto the wrist and Jenkins and spinning underneath it, twisting it into an arm wrench. Spike yelps in pain as he grabs at his shoulder. Thinking quickly, Jenkins rolls forward onto the mat, popping up into a sitting position on the mat as wraps his legs around Pierre’s left knee and forcing him to the mat with a drop toe hold! Jenkins quickly floats over, landing on top of Pierre and locking him in a front face lock! “Nice takedown into a front face lock by Jenkins!” Pierre sits up onto his knees, pulling Spike up as well. He prys at the fingers of The King of Cambodia, breaking the front face lock. Latching on to one of his opponent’s wrists, Donette spins out from underneath Spike, pulling on the arm with an arm wrench! Pierre twists the arm behind Spike’s back with a hammerlock, applying pressure to the shoulder of Jenkins! “Great mat work by the rookie, King.” “Yeah, yeah.” “He is really keeping up with Spike, who is the self-proclaimed master of chain-wrestling.” Spike turns to his side and sits up. He climbs up to his feet with Pierre still attached to his arm with the hammerlock. Jenkins lures Pierre into the center of the ring and quickly ducks backwards underneath Pierre and reversing the hammerlock into one of his own! Pierre struggles to get out of the hold, but Spike refuses to let go. Using his free hand, he goes underneath Pierre’s other arm, placing it on the side of his neck. Releasing the hammerlock, Spike floats forward underneath the arm and stepping up in front of Pierre, locking his other hand around the other side of the neck and locking in the World Famous Cravat! “Here we go again with the cravat’s…” Mak Francis sighs. Spike tears at the neck, coercing Pierre’s neck in a certain direction. Pierre, once again, tries to break free from the hold by tearing at the fingers. He breaks out of the hold, but grabs a hold of Spike’s wrist and ducks underneath it, ripping at the shoulder with another arm wrench! Spike clutches his shoulder as Pierre pulls at it. Spike grabs at Donette’s fingers and pulls apart the hold he has. Using his other hand to grab the wrist, Spike twists underneath the arm, locking in his own arm wrench! Pierre looks to counter it, but Spike pulls him in quickly. Releasing the arm wrench, Spike wraps his arms around the neck in another cravat! Pierre struggles to break free, but Jenkins keeps the hold intact. Not finding a way to counter out of it, Pierre drags Spike towards the ropes and places one foot out onto the apron. The referee charges over and forces Spike to break the hold. Releasing the hold, Spike backs away slowly, hands in the air as he innocently walks across the ring. Pierre steps out from the ropes, holding his neck, complaining to the referee. “Welcome to the SWF,” begins the Suicide King, “Home of the cravat.” Jenkins cockily grins as Pierre steps away from the ropes and both competitors begin to circle the ring again. They lock up with a collar-and-elbow tie up, both struggling for the advantage. Pierre claims it, though, as he locks in a side headlock. Jenkins tries to squeeze out for a few seconds to no avail. He pushes Pierre back into the ropes and pushes him off, sending Pierre across the ring. Pierre bounces off the ropes and hurdles back towards Jenkins, taking him down with a shoulder block! Spike hits the mat hard, momentarily stunned. Donette sees this as an opportunity and charges into the ropes parallel to Jenkins. Bouncing off them, he comes flying back towards Spike, who jumps to his feet. Leaping into the air over the Frenchman, Spike lands on his feet after the leapfrog. Turning around to keep up with the pace, Spike charges straight into an arm drag takeover! Both men hit the mat, but quickly jump to their feet. Jenkins again charges only to be taken over with another arm drag! Again, both men get to their feet and again Jenkins charges into an arm drag! This time, Pierre holds onto the arm, keeping it locked in an arm bar with Jenkins on the mat! “Fast paced action by two of the world’s finest cruiserweights.” “Pierre working over that arm of Jenkins, what could he be setting up for?” “Well, after his loss to Nemesis, I’m sure Pierre has some things in mind to get the upset over Spike!” Pierre lifts Spike up off the mat and pushes him back into the ropes. He Irish whips Jenkins off the ropes. Spike bounces off the ropes and comes charging back towards Pierre who catches him under the arm with a hip toss…but Jenkins uses his momentum to flip forward, landing on his feet! Pierre, taken by surprise, tries to keep his advantage, but Spike flips him over onto his back with an arm drag takeover! Both men get up, this time Pierre charges towards Spike, who takes him over with another arm drag! Spike keeps a hold on the arm, tearing at it with the same arm bar Pierre just had on him. “Spike Jenkins showing the new guy how to work the mat!” laughs King. “As much as I hate the guy, you can’t expect to get in the ring right off the bat with Spike Jenkins and try to out wrestle him. It just isn’t going to happen.” “Spike Jenkins sent a message earlier to the SWF International Champion, Bruce Blank. Something Blank has not taken kindly to.” “Jenkins is next in line for a shot at the International Title, but feels that Bruce Blank might overlook him,” Mak begins to rant, “Hopefully, he isn’t doing the same here tonight with Pierre!” Jenkins tears at the arm, forcing a small gasp of pain from Pierre. Donette shoots his legs into the air, looking to counter the hold. He wraps his legs around the neck of Spike and pulls him off the arm bar and into a head scissors! Spike gags for air as Pierre applies pressure. Spike twists over to his side, freeing his throat from the leg scissors, but still having his neck trapped. Spike leans forward, balancing on his head and using his hands for support. Donette sits up, keeping his hands up to protect himself from Spike falling over onto him…but Spike pulls his legs in and shoots them back out, ‘dolphining’ out of the head scissors! With Pierre still sitting there, Spike leaps into the air and drives both of his boots into the side of his opponent’s head, dropkicking Pierre and snapping his head back into the mat! “One of Spike Jenkins patent signature moves,” shouts Mak, “He used that same move on Akira Kaibatsu in their Returning Contestant match on Lockdown a week ago!” Spike stands on one knee, posing for the crowd as Pierre rolls around like a fish out of water clutching his face. Spike rolls him over onto his back and goes for the first pin fall of the match. ONE!!! TWO!!! TH---NO! Pierre kicks out! “Close call for the King of Cambodia and the Number One Contender to the SWF International Title!” Spike climbs to his feet, lifting Pierre up with him. Snapping his boot into the gut of Pierre, doubling him over, Spike pulls him into a standing head scissor. Underhooking both arms, Spike nods to the crowd as he leaps into the air, bringing Pierre up with him and driving him face first into the mat with an Endwell! “Endwell!” Spike turns Pierre over, driving his forearm into the face of the Frenchman as he covers him. ONE!!! TWO!!!! THREE!!!! *Ding Ding Ding* “Here is your winner… ‘Hollywood’ Spiiiiiike Jennnnkinsssssss!” “Spike picks up another win with the Endwell!” “Will that be the move to end Bruce Blanks International Championship reign? Time will tell!” [FIN]

BANG! BANG! BANG! Without waiting to be greeted, or even acknowledged, Mike Van Siclen bursts into SWF Commissioner Joseph Peters’ office. “You’ve got to do something about this!” demands Van Siclen. Peters glares at him blankly. “I beg your pardon?” “He glued my locker shut!” barks Van Siclen. “Who did?” “Wildchild did, you idiot!” roars MVS. “He super-glued my locker shut; I’ve got to wrestle in twenty minutes!” “I’m sure that you can find someone from arena maintenance to help you get in,” replies Peters calmly. “Otherwise, you can talk to wardrobe and get a replacement outfit for the evening.” “You’re joking, right?” asks Van Siclen incredulously. “Tell me you’re kidding; I’m not wearing a used pair of tights; there’s no way… And quit trying to change the subject! What are you going to do about Wildchild?” Peters smirks at Van Siclen, not even pretending not to be enjoying his misfortune. “Mister Van Siclen, Wildchild was suspended after Ground Zero; to the best of my knowledge, he hasn’t been seen by any SWF personnel since we left the Q.” “Well then, somebody must have snuck him in here!” insists Van Siclen. “He put his initials on it, just like he did when he wrecked my Six-Four!” “What exactly are you proposing that I do, anyway?” “I… I don’t know, but it better be something!” MVS angrily pounds his hands on the desk. “I’m a star; I don’t have to take this from him, and I don’t have to take it from you. Don’t forget that I own you, Peters… you’d better (bleep)-ing do something!” With that, Van Siclen spins around on his heel and storms out of the office, walking obliviously past SWF road agent Michael Anderson, who reaches into his suit coat pocket and fishes out his cell phone: “Yes, it’s me; he just left the office; you’ve got about thirty seconds to get out of there.” He then closes his phone and slips it back into his pocket before leaning against his cane as he limps off in the other direction.

Yeppers.

Feel free. I doubt anyone else did.

Seriously - I leave, and the freaking Birdman returns?! Too awesome. All but Blankira are accounted for at the moment, and I have good reason to believe it shall be accounted for... soon... And a real insert generic Jim Ross term here of a Main Event. Yeehaw! Card under construction. Be up soon.

Donez0r.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation presents... SWF STORM! Live, Friday, August 18th, from the MTS Centre in Winnipeg, Manitoba! (7pm PST, 10pm EST; check local listings) (Send all promos/marked matches to chirs3) -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- THE MAIN EVENT - CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH "The Superior One" Tom Flesher © vs. Landon "La Cucaracha" Maddix © -> Oh. My. God. Two Skinny White Guys pulled out a HEEEE-Y-UUUUUUUUGE win on Smarkdown, finally snaking the titles off of Tom Flesher and Charlie "Grappler" Matthews! While this would put anyone in a foul mood, the fact that Peters is now immediately granting Landon his his Cruiserweight Title shot must be putting Tom right over the edge! Will this be enough motivation for Tom to retain, or is this level of frustration exactly what La Cucaracha needs to take him down? Tonight, while their respective tag partners take a well-earned show off, these two showcase Cruiserweights will rock our world, and the title will be on the line! Rules: Standard, with Cruiser addenda. Word Limit: 5500 Send to: Evolution -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- SINGLES MATCH "The Divine Wind" Akira Kaibatsu vs. MANSON~! -> The maybe/maybe not champion Akira Kaibatsu will be put to the test tonight against the newly motivated MANSON. Is the fire under Manson's ass just warming up, or is it just embers, about to go out? Good lord. I apologize for that. Seriously. Rules: Standard singles. Word Limit: 5000 Send to: Ace309 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- HARDCORE MATCH JJ Johnson vs. Kerry Staunton -> Kerry Staunton spilled coffee on JJ Johnson, then beat him out for a Shampoo Commercial. JJ's stood all he can stands, and he can't stands no more! Rules: NO RULES! Word Limit: 5000 Send to: chirs3 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- SINGLES MATCH Amy Stephens vs. Jimmy the Doom © -> Jimmy the Doom, YOUR NUMBER ONE CONTENDER! Not as shocking as you might think, as he has come fairly close to big titles wins in the past - in fact, he's wearing one right now! Mike's got the night off, after a hard-earned victory, so Jimmy will be warming up against One Skinny White Guy's loud mouthed foul mannered sister, Amy Stephens! Rules: Standard singles. Word Limit: 4250 Send to: hhh6294 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- SINGLES MATCH Nemesis vs. Mike Van Siclen -> One newcomer who HAS managed to get something going is Nemesis - he picked up a big win over Pierre, and now he sets his sights on the returnee whose return has been somewhat less than stellar. Can Mike Van Siclen bring his career back on track, or will Nemesis pick up another win and get that much closer to something... awesome...? Rules: Standard singles match. Word Limit: 4500 Send to: Longdogger_Pete -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- SINGLES MATCH "Hollwood" Spike Jenkins vs. "The Ace" Pierre Donette --> With Bruce Blank taking the night off, and the results of Blank vs. Akira still unknown, what is a booker to do? That's right - STALL! Newcomer Pierre Donette hasn't gotten much going lately. Let's see if he can turn it around against the Impatient IN Title Contender, Spike Jenkins! Rules: Standard singles match. Word Limit: 4250 Send to: hhh6294 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- OPENING BOUT Ultimo Phantasmo vs. Ced Ordonez --> NEWCOMER, MOFO's! We snatched UP away from a rival federation - not with promises of money or fame, but with a black bag over his head. But who cares about that? He's here, and that's what matters! Tonight, he debuts against the eternally-awesome Ced Ordonez! Rules: Standard singles match. Word Limit: 4000 Send to: chirs3 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- OPENING PROMO: J3 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- NOTES: As always, if you want a match or stipulation added, request it in this thread and see if you have a taker. Any and all typos/errors/inconsistencies can be blamed on my stomach. Gurgle.

Blank vs. Akira to be edited in in FIVE... FOUR... THREE... TWO... ONE... GO GO GO!

“It’s time for the main event,” Mak Francis exclaims, “and King, you’ve gotta believe that this is going to be one of the free TV matches of the year; three former World Champions and the current World Champion, the current Cruiserweight Champion and his number one contender, and to cap it off it sounds like the Cruiserweight Champion might now be the number one contender for the World Title… and they’re all competing for the Tag Titles!” “All smells a bit Kliq-y to me,” Suicide King sniffs. “Look who’s talking.” The aura of tension in the Rexall Place is palpable. Everyone knows that they’re about to see four of the SWF’s top athletes go head-to-head. Funyon slowly walks up the steps to the ring and steps through the ropes, then prepares his microphone… “YOU’VE GOTTA FIGHT!” *BUM-BUM!* “FOR YOUR RIGHT!” *DUM!* “TO PAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR-TAY!” “TO PAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR-TAY!” “What the hell is this?” the Suicide King says, looking around in astonishment, “no-one in the SWF uses this music… do they?” It seems that they do, because the Smarktron is flashing up images of two rather familiar looking athletes; familiar because they are, respectively, the former and current SWF World Heavyweight Champions… and they’ve just made their way to the top of the entrance ramp. “YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “What the hell are they doing coming out to this?” King asks, appalled, “wasn’t Lostprophets bad enough!?” “Ah King you’re just jealous, it’s the Beastie Boys!” Indeed, striding down the ramp with the cheers of the Canadian crowd echoing around them come the challengers; Landon Maddix, trenchcoated as usual and with a cocky smirk on his face as he flicks his blonde hair from his face, followed closely by Megan Skye. On the other side of the ramp is his tag team partner - and as of Lockdown, they really did start to look like a team of sorts - and former mortal enemy, Michael Stephens; the Englishman looks more focused than Landon, but also grimmer. He doesn’t smile as much these days. Bringing up the rear with a can in her hand is his younger sister Amy. “And why are the women out here?” Suicide King asks, “just here to make trouble and screw Tom and Charlie out of their tag titles, I’ll bet!” “Megan could be, quite possibly,” Francis agrees as Megan climbs up and holds the ring ropes open for Landon while Michael Stephens rolls underneath, still doing a good job of ignoring his tag team partner. Meanwhile Maddix whirls into the ring, soaking in the (general) good-feeling of the crowd. “However, I’d suggest that Amy Stephens is out here because Flesher and Matthews gave her a spike piledriver a couple of months back, and she won’t be one to let that go easily.” ‘Fight For Your Right To Party’ by the Beastie Boys has now started to fade out and the entire audience looks up to the entrance ramp. They know, they just know that the Tag Champions will have something ‘special’ lined up for them tonight, and although they’re dreading it they have a morbid fascination. The lights drop. There is a faint rushing sound that gradually rises until it becomes recognisable as the sound of waves… of the sea… “Oh God no…” Mak says, wishing he could raise his hands to bury his head in them. A flute is now audible playing a delicate, haunting melody… and suddenly gets overridden by the scratchy, nails-on-a-chalkboard voice of James Matheson as he appears at the top of the ramp: “Skinny and white you most certainly are,” he sneers, “and if you’re the best the SWF tag team division has to offer then I’m going to recommend that my clients start buying trousers with a couple of extra inches on the waists to accommodate the belts that will most assuredly be theirs for a very long time… but now,” he continues, “allow me to introduce, hailing from CANADA~!, at a combined weight of 535.9lbs, YOUR SWF World Tag Team Champions, ‘Edmond’ Tom Flesher and Charlie ‘Albertasaurus’ Matthews!” ‘ Every night in my dreams, I see you, I feeeeeeeeeeeeel you, That is how I know you go on…’ As Celine Dion’s ‘My Heart Will Go On’ continues to play, there is a faint rumbling sound and out of the entrance way comes what can only be described as the prow of a ship. And there, standing at the very tip of the bow with their arms outstretched are the figures of Tom Flesher and, behind him, Charlie Matthews. ‘Far across the distance And spaces between us, You have come to show you go on…’ “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “What a sight,” King sighs, “and because it’s Tom and Grappler it’s inspiring without being disturbingly homoerotic.” “It’s terrifying,” Mak Francis says as the Tag Team Champions climb down from their perch and make their way towards the ring. Thankfully they’ve declined to dress in appropriate clothing for their re-enactment of the most famous scene from ‘Titanic’, and are instead clothed in Canadian hockey jackets with the customary hockey sticks. Because no-one can be Canadian without a hockey stick. ‘Near, far, wherever you are I believe that the heart does go on… Once more you open the door And you’re here in my heart And my heart will go on and on…’ Flesher and Matthews climb the steps to the ring apron, whereupon Matthews carefully wipes his feet before stepping through the ropes. Flesher strips off his jacket and gives his ‘fans’ a cheerful thumbs-up… before wincing in pain and cradling the heavily-strapped thumb. “Ah, what a trooper Taamo is,” King sighs, wiping away a tear as Celine Dion fades out, “he’s going into this match injured Mak, I hope you realise his dedication to the cause?” “His thumb’s not injured,” Francis snaps, “and if it was, it’d only be through repetitive stress injury from repeatedly and deliberately thumbing his opponents in the eye, and that strapping’s only going to make it nastier.” *DING-DING-DING!* Charlie Matthews rolls his arms and gently eases his neck around, loosening up before stepping towards the middle of the ring while Flesher takes up his place on the apron. Meanwhile, the team of Maddix and Stephens still seem to be having difficulty working out which one should start the match until Landon looks up and sees the hosseriffic Matthews advancing. Just like he did against Rageheart, and just like against the Doomstroyer, La Cucaracha turns around to give his partner the honour of starting against the big man on the opposite team… but this time Michael Stephens catches his arm. And holds up a clenched fist. “The team could be breaking down already,” Mak Francis says in some concern… but no, because Stephens is merely demanding a game of rock paper scissors. ONE TWO THREE DRAW!! ‘Awww!’ Landon groans as his scissors are blunted by Mike’s rock; he looks up hoping for a best of three but a chuckling Stephens has stepped out to the apron and left Landon to it. Muttering to himself, the Spanish-American turns around, still looking mournfully at the two extended fingers that are causing him to start the match… and nearly bumps into Charlie Matthews. Grappler raises his hands, mockingly inviting Landon in for a lock-up. Landon looks down at his two ‘scissor’ fingers again… then reaches up and jabs Charlie in the eyes! “YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “CHEAT!” King thunders with righteous fury, and indeed Matthew Kivell does warn Landon about his nefarious tactics, but La Cucaracha is more interested in giving Tom Flesher the bird as a little payback-by-proxy for the eye-jabs he suffered in their Cruiserweight Contendership match before Ground Zero. However, the young Dakotan quickly gets himself back on track and grabs Matthews by the hair, then starts firing kicks into the big man’s face! *WHAP!* *WHAP!* *WHAP!* *WHAP!* *WHAP!* Once finished Landon doesn’t stop there, as he takes Matthews in a quick front facelock and spins to one side; it’s an effort to get Grappler’s much larger frame to follow him, but when it does the big man comes crashing down feeling the effects of the swinging neckbreaker. Landon doesn’t even go for a cover; instead he pops back up and heads for his corner where Michael Stephens has his hand extended, and with the tag made the World Champion vaults up to the top rope, then comes off with a fistdrop that connects squarely with Grappler’s forehead. “It’s blasphemy!” King snarls, “this entire match will now be tainted with Landon’s cheating ways!” “Oh, give it a rest,” Mak sighs as Stephens, playing by the rules as ever, neglects to use any underhanded tactics on his bigger opponent and instead brings him up to a sitting position, then slips behind him and applied a seated double-leg nelson, “Landon didn’t do anything that Flesher and indeed, Matthews won’t do to him given a chance; I’m not saying it’s good, but it’s understandable. And now they’re working a solid strategy by immediately targeting the neck of Grappler.” “Cowards,” King hisses. Charlie Matthews is considerably bigger than most men Stephens generally applies the double-leg nelson to, and it’s entirely feasible that he could power his way out. However Landon hasn’t quite finished playing yet, and he walks up to Charlie to scrape his boot across the big man’s face once… …twice… …three times… …and with James Matheson screaming about the five-count, Maddix bounces off the ropes and delivers a basement dropkick-style bootscrape to Matthews before rolling out under the bottom rope to avoid a possible DQ! With Flesher looking on sternly from the apron, Michael Stephens releases his hold and brings Grappler down to the mat, then makes a cover… ONE! TW- -but Matthews kicks out with authority, getting his hands under Stephens and actually pushing the much smaller World Champion clean off him! ‘LET’S GO CHAR-LIE!’ ‘LET’S GO CHAR-LIE!’ However, Tom’s attempt at starting a chant doesn’t go down well, and with Grappler trying to rise to his feet the Englishman grabs a front facelock, then without hesitation whips his right arm around and down to smash Matthews’ face back into the canvas with the Unfinished Business! *BANG!* “Stephens and Maddix certainly starting out at a high speed here,” Mak comments as the World Champion gets back to his feet and tags Maddix, who hops up to the top rope, “it’s probably the best way to deal with a lumbering hoss like Grappler…” …and Maddix comes off with a diving enzui-headbutt! La Cucaracha doesn’t come off very well from the landing either, but Matthews has clearly been hurt and with Stephens urging him on the Spaniard rolls his big opponent over onto his back, then makes a cover… ONE! TWO!! …and Charlie kicks out, although not quite with the same authority as before. He still has plenty of juice to start getting up though, and Landon backs off to get ready to take a run at him. When Matthews approaches a vertical base Maddix runs for the ropes… …and Flesher, who has quite innocently decided to take a wander along the apron, suffers an involuntary muscle spasm that causes his knee to come up into Maddix’s back. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” The Canadian crowd let the Superior One know what they think of him, but the damage is done; Landon’s forward momentum has turned into an unbalanced stagger, and it’s simple for Matthews to lash out with an extended right arm- *WHAM!* -and lariat him nearly out of his boots! “That was retaliation on Tom’s part,” King snaps before Mak can speak while Flesher protests his innocence to Matty Kivell, “Landon cheated, so that was legal!” “I’m not sure-” “I am! Ask Matheson, he’s a lawyer, he can prove it!” Michael Stephens is staring in despair as his chances of winning the tag titles with a partner he was just starting to gel with take a sudden turn for the worse. There is hope for a second because Matthews falls to one knee after the lariat, but only for a second; then the big man shakes some of the cobwebs off and rises back to his feet before grabbing Landon’s feet and towing the dazed Dakotan over towards the MatFlesh corner. Flesher reaches out and tags himself in off Matthews’ back, and this seems to be a signal for Charlie to start spinning on the spot; however, the big man still has a hold of Landon’s feet and as he starts to spin Landon leaves the mat. The Giant Swing does save him some friction burns, but unfortunately leaves him completely open to- *SMACK!* -catching a basement dropkick to the face, courtesy of one Thomas M. Flesher. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” The combined yet opposed momentums of Giant Swing and dropkick work to create a whole rich world of possibilities of pain and little tweeting birds circling one’s head; however, Flesher doesn’t give Landon a chance to sample such delights uninterrupted and covers him, ramming his forearm into Landon’s face as he does so. ONE! TW- -but Landon’s a tough customer and he kicks out before two; Flesher seems mildly offended by this, and takes an opportunity to jam his left thumb into Maddix’s eye while La Cucaracha is still on the mat. Landon rolls away clutching his face and Kivell confronts Flesher about it who, predictably, denies all knowledge even of his own thumb and of Landon having a face, let alone any meeting of the two. “That makes no sense,” Francis says, “I mean, Landon was down and Tom didn’t have anything to gain from that thumb to the eye - what was the purpose of it except pure spite?” “I agree,” King nods, “it had no purpose. Since we all know that Tom never does anything without a purpose in the ring, logically he didn’t actually do it, and Matty Kivell should stop making baseless allegations.” Flesher has taken another option which is simply to ignore the referee, and this he does with the consummate ease of long practice. Accordingly he pursues Maddix across the canvas and grabs a front facelock as La Cucaracha gets up to his knees, then sprawls down completely to the floor before firing a knee up into Landon’s head. The Spaniard’s body jerks from the impact and Flesher hits a couple more for good measure, then looks up and gives Michael Stephens a cheeky wink. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” The World Champion is doing a good impression of indicating through his facial expressions that why should he care if Tom Flesher knees Landon Maddix in the head a few times, and indeed in most cases that’d be true, but in this situation both Flesher and Stephens know that the Englishman needs his partner. Stephens hasn’t failed in a title challenge yet, and for that record to be maintained he needs Landon up and running. However, Flesher still has the front facelock on… …and as he mockingly reaches up to wipe a nonexistent spot of sweat from his brow, Flesher’s jaunty smile suddenly disappears as Landon grabs the one arm remaining around his head and rolls out to the side, extending Flesher’s limb before twisting on the mat to apply a grounded armwringer! “He may not be a mat genius, but you can’t let up on Landon Maddix,” Mak Francis notes, “he’s resilient and resourceful, for all his faults.” Flesher curses himself for his showboating and resolves to fix it quickly; he pushes himself up to get some space to work in, then executes a quick forward roll to release the pressure on his arm. Maddix is slightly dazed still and doesn’t have the mat instincts to dive on for a cover immediately in any case, allowing Tom to twist up and grab for a side headlock with his other arm, then roll on the mat and take Landon over his hips and down again, this time onto his back. “FLESH-ER SUCKS!” “FLESH-ER SUCKS!” Flesher hasn’t even stopped moving; he releases the headlock and brings Landon up to a sitting position, then threads his left arm underneath Landon’s right and locks on an abdominal stretch. The Cruiserweight Champion looks around at the crowd with a tight grin on his face, pleased with his rescuing of the situation, but he momentarily forgets one thing; he can no longer see Michael Stephens. *SMACK!* “Cheap shot!” King snaps as the World Champion delivers a basement dropkick to the back of Flesher’s head to break up the submission and allow Landon to topple to one side as Tom grabs his skull, “so much for obeying the rules there, hey Francis?” “Anyone will jump into a tag match to save their partner,” Mak Francis argues, “and he has five legal seconds to be in that ring at the same time as Maddix.” “And Tom has five legal seconds to apply a choke. Fair’s fair!” “Nothing’s fair about Tom when he’s in this mood,” the Franchise declares as Flesher grabs Landon in a rear waistlock before La Cucaracha can take advantage and make it to his corner. Flesher drags Landon up to his feet and looks over his opponent’s shoulder towards where Michael Stephens has stepped out to the apron again. The Superior One raises his eyebrows, as if asking whether Stephens really wanted him to stop the submission… …then bridges backwards, hurling Landon from his grasp with a release German suplex that dumps the Spaniard on the back of his neck and sees him finish up in a crumpled heap near Charlie Matthews’ feet! *BANG!* “A textbook German there from Flesher, and things aren’t looking good for Landon,” Mak Francis states, “he’s as tough as they come-” “-actually, I’d wager that Tom is a good 50% tougher,” the Gambling Man chimes in. “-but against this team he’s going to go down quickly unless he can get to his partner,” Francis finishes, glaring at his co-announcer. “Get to his partner? Dream on, wheels,” King sniffs, “the teamwork of Flesher and Matthews is as beautifully choreographed as a performance by the New York Ballet Academy.” A stranger comparison has possibly never been made, but Tom Flesher feels he’s made his point and walks over to tag in the tutu-less Charlie Matthews to continue the match. However, on the way Tom accidentally grinds the heel of his boot down over Landon’s face, bringing a warning from Kivell that the Cruiserweight Champion summarily ignores. Grappler steps over the top rope and then walks over Landon… but by ‘walking over’, we mean he plants one foot on Maddix’s chest and steps up, then steps down again. Then wipes his boot off on the canvas. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “I’m getting sick of this,” Francis says, “Tom and Charlie are a good, talented team - why the dirty tactics and cheap offence?” “Why not?” King replies, kicking back and putting his feet up on the announce desk. Matthews reaches down to pick up the gasping Maddix and hoists him to his feet, then engulfs his opponent in those huge arms. However, this is no gentle hug from the big man… no, it’s the dreaded BEARHUG~! “BORRRRR-ING!” “BORRRRR-ING!” The Canadian crowd start chanting almost immediately, surely before their boredom thresholds can really have been reached; not that Charlie cares, because he knows this strategy will work. Landon struggles but he’s being held fast by a man much stronger than he is. However, Tom Flesher is a little impatient at times and so, seeing that Matthew Kivell is busy asking Landon whether he wants to submit, the Superior One starts to undo the turnbuckle covering on the top buckle of his corner. Kivell is oblivious, but Matthews sees his partner at work and decides to capitalise - even as the crowd continue to chant their derisive comments Grappler hoists Landon off the mat and charges forward without a great deal of speed but with a hellish amount of momentum- *BANG!* -to slam Maddix’s back against the exposed steel! Landon cries out in anguish and Matthews grabs him again, then twists around to plant the Spaniard into the canvas with a side belly-to-belly suplex that shakes the very ring! He then hooks Maddix’s leg and makes a cover as Kivell dives to count… ONE! TWO!! …Landon kicks out, but as the referee’s attention is distracted Flesher quickly starts to reattach the turnbuckle cover. Kivell looks up and sees him, jumps to his feet and begins barking terse instructions for Flesher to back away from the ringpost, then directs a member of the ring crew to reattach the pad. “Too late Kivell,” Francis sighs, “he wasn’t loosening it, he’d already taken it off!” “This is why Flesher is your God.” “What, because he can put one over on Matthew Kivell?” Francis asks in sheer astonishment, “come on, that would make Danny Dagda the Messiah.” Matthews brings Landon up with about as much effort as Landon himself would need to pull a five year-old up, then grabs a rear waistlock. However, rather than try for an inverted bearhug or something equally devastating(!) Grappler slips his head under Landon’s left arm and hoists Maddix into the air, then dumps him back down again over one extended knee with an atomic drop that jars the smaller man’s spine. “LET’S GO LAN-DON!” “LET’S GO LAN-DON!” Michael Stephens looks around in bewilderment, but yes, it’s happening. Whether through association with him, an identification with the underdog or simply sheer hatred of Matthews and Flesher and their faux-Canadian ways, the crowd are starting to get behind Maddix. Mike shrugs, and starts thumping the turnbuckle. Time to go with the flow. “LET’S GO LAN-DON!” “LET’S GO LAN-DON!” However, the chants don’t seem to be doing any good at the moment, as Matthews reaches over and tags Flesher in before grabbing Landon’s hair and hauling him upright. Kivell complains, but quickly starts delivering a five-count as Flesher heads for the ropes and bounces off them, then accelerates towards the woozy Maddix that Grappler is still holding up… *CRACK!* “YAKUUUUUUUUUUUUZA!” Suicide King shouts gleefully as Flesher does his best to obliterate Maddix’s face, “I hope Landon’s saved some money, because I hear facial reconstructive surgery doesn’t come cheap!” “Unlike Megan Skye.” “Word.” Flesher pulls up after the impact and waves to the crowd happily, then places one boot on Maddix’s chest and instructs Kivell to count the pin. ONE! TWO!! TH- -but Landon kicks out! Flesher sighs and drops to make a more traditional cover… ONE! TWO!! TH- -but Landon kicks out again! “LET’S GO LAN-DON!” “LET’S GO LAN-DON!” Flesher rocks back on his haunches and tuts, giving Landon an opening to turn onto his front and start to crawl towards his tag team partner - Flesher isn’t going to allow that though, and he mounts Landon’s back, then tugs his opponent’s arms back over his knees to apply a Camel Clutch. “BORRRR-ING!” “BORRRR-ING!” Flesher looks around as if he can’t quite believe what he’s hearing, while Charlie Matthews looks, if anything, jealous! However, despite the pain that’s wracking Landon’s frame and which is clearly visible on his face Tom clearly can’t bear to think that he’s depriving his ‘hometown fans’ of anything less than top wrestling action, so with a smirk he shoves Landon’s head downwards and rolls forward into a Gedo Clutch pin. ONE! TWO!! TH- -but Landon kicks out, sending the Superior One sprawling forwards. Flesher gets up not too many feet from where Michael Stephens is standing on the apron… and the Cruiserweight Champion spits in the face of the man he might be challenging at Genesis! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Stephens is of course incensed, and he scrambles through the ropes to get to his opponent. Flesher turns away laughing as Kivell dashes forward to restrain the World Champion… and in that moment when the referee’s distracted, Landon Maddix does what Landon Maddix does best. He cheats. *CHING!* “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Tom Flesher goes from a confident stride to a knock-kneed crumple with optional bulging eyes, and the crowd goes from sitting on their hands to jumping up with delight! Landon watches as the Superior One topples forwards, then the Spaniard starts to wearily crawl towards his partner with hand outstretched. He’s five feet away… …three feet away… …and Tom Flesher grabs his ankle. “YES!” Suicide King shouts, “not even Landon Maddix’s despicable, heinous cheating ways can put Tom Flesher out! He’s still in the game Francis, and he’s still up to the challenge!” Sure enough, Flesher has enough of a grasp on Landon to prevent him from making the tag, for all the fact that Stephens is trying to go-go-gadget-arms. However, Tom doesn’t have enough left in the tank to do much else at the moment, a fact that James Matheson has noted. The scrawny manager jumps up onto the apron in a neutral corner, bellowing at Matthew Kivell about Maddix’s dirty tactics, and as the referee is tied up Grappler gets into the ring and makes his way to Flesher, then takes hold of his partner and tows both him and Landon over to their corner! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Kivell turns around to see Matthews, once more back on the apron, making a tag with the prone Flesher and stepping into the ring as the legal man. The Superior One doesn’t release his grip on Landon’s leg until Matthews has taken a firm grip on the scruff of Maddix’s neck, at which point Tom rolls under the bottom rope to be alone with his pain. “That’s good teamwork, cutting the ring off like that,” King smiles. “Cutting it off illegally!” Mak snaps. Matthews doesn’t care, of course; he brings Maddix up and hoists the smaller man up over his shoulder, then points towards the centre of the ring to signal for a running powerslam! However, as he starts forward Maddix kicks his legs, trying to unbalance his monstrous opponent… and he slips out backwards! “LET’S GO LAN-DON!” Matthews stops, rather ponderously admittedly, and turns around to try and get a bead on his opponent. Maddix doesn’t bother launching an attack and tries to dart past the big man to get to his corner… …but Charlie fields him and wraps him up in a bearhug! “BORRR-ING!” “BORRR-ING!” Grappler squeezes with all his might as the fans chant and it seems to Landon that he can almost hear his ribs creaking under the pressure. Kivell moves in, ready to call for a submission as Maddix’s tortured torso takes yet more punishment and La Cucaracha starts to droop. “BORRRR-ING!” ‘C’mon Landon!’ Megan shrieks from ringside… and Maddix’s eyes suddenly focus. He’s not taking this shit. Not twice in one night. “YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “He biting him!” Mak Francis exclaims as Charlie Matthews suddenly staggers back, under assault from an unexpected quarter. The crushing arms suddenly start trying to remove Landon as quickly as possible, but Maddix now proves difficult to get rid of; Charlie basically shoves him away before grabbing his face in pain, but Maddix can literally taste blood now and before Grappler can do anything the Spaniard lunges for him again, then wraps an arm around his shoulders and falls backwards with the Complete Shot! *BANG!* “LET’S GO LAN-DON!” “LET’S GO LAN-DON!” Tom Flesher starts to pull himself up on the top rope, his Superior Package still aching. He looks into the ring and sees both men down, decides to take a hand… …and someone beats him to it. “Get him out of the ring!” King bellows as Michael Stephens vaults over the top rope into the ring and sets off at a dead run. However, as he evades Matthew Kivell it’s clear that the Sensation isn’t heading for Charlie Matthews - he’s heading for the far corner, and he jumps to the second rope before vaulting off and flying clean over the adjacent top rope, wrapping his legs around the head of the startled Tom Flesher and taking the Superior One off the apron with a hurricanrana to the floor! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “HO-LY SHIT!” “HO-LY SHIT!” “Oh, fine, wonderful move,” Suicide King snarls, “but who’s Landon going to tag now, huh? You’ve left him alone with Grappler Toxx,” he continues at the figure of the World Champion who’s lying on the outside of the ring near the announce desk, “and Matthews will make mincemeat of him!” James Matheson doesn’t like the odds so well though, and slides his briefcase into the ring as Kivell yells over the top rope at Stephens and Flesher, hoping to encourage at least one of them to return to the apron. The steel briefcase bumps against the hand of Charlie Matthews who reaches out and clutches it as Landon groggily starts to get back to his feet, but Matty Kivell has seen it and swoops down to remove it from Grappler’s grasp. Which is of course just what Matheson was planning on, and as Kivell turns to get the briefcase out of the ring he turns for the tag belts, seeking to slide one to Matthews… …and finds that two girls have got there before him. One of them is petite, blonde and stunningly attractive; the other is large, chubby and smells of beer. Neither of them are smiling… and then Amy Stephens does smile, and Matheson wishes she hadn’t. *CRUNCH!* “YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “That’s assault!” Suicide King wails as Amy headbutts Matheson and sends him crumpling backwards into the ringpost, where he slides down into an uncomfortable sitting position. Megan Skye looks approvingly at her opposite number, who waves an encouraging hand… *CHING!* “OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHH…” “That’s just funny,” Mak sniggers as Megan kicks Matheson right in the crotch. Meanwhile Grappler has figured out that he can’t count on any more outside help and makes a lunge for Landon. However the agile Spaniard ducks under his grasp and slips behind him, then jumps up and cups both hands underneath Matthews’ chin before falling backwards and bringing his knees up- *BANG!* -to take the big man down with a Lungblower! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “LET’S GO LAN-DON!” “LET’S GO LAN-DON!” Maddix rolls away, wondering why the hell he just thought it was a good idea to bring 300lbs down on top of him, turns towards his corner… and Michael Stephens isn’t there. He hasn’t got back from his tumble to the floor with Tom Flesher. And Charlie Matthews grabs Landon’s foot. “LET’S GO LAN-DON!” “Like a vice Charlie, like a vice!” King shouts desperately, but Landon raises his other boot and smashes it into Matthew’s face once, twice, three times, and Grappler lets go. Landon turns towards his corner again… …and now Michael Stephens is there. And as the World Champion stretches out one black-nailed hand, Landon Maddix finds the energy to make one last dive forwards, reaching out as he half-flies, half-falls through the air… *smak* “YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” The crowd erupts as Stephens vaults over the top rope again (legally this time) and lands in the ring, then charges for Matthews! The big man tries to get up to a vertical base to defend himself but Stephens simply launches himself off his feet and drives a basement dropkick into Charlie’s face, then gets back up and lunges again to hit a baseball slide on Tom Flesher as the Superior One struggles to get back on the apron following his unexpected trip to the floor of the Rexall Place. “LET’S GO STE-PHENS!” “LET’S GO STE-PHENS!” “The tag champions are on the ropes,” Mak Francis shouts over the crowd noise, “we could be about to see a title change here!” Stephens climbs up to the second buckle, then reconsiders and goes to the top one, waiting for Matthews to stand. The big man gets back to his feet, looking around for his smaller tormentor… …and Stephens comes off the top rope with a beautifully-executed flipping neckbreaker that takes the Tag Champion back down to the mat hard. *BANG!* “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Stephens dives on top for the cover as Matthews grabs at his notoriously-weak neck… ONE! TWO!! TH- -broken up by Tom Flesher! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” The Superior One grabs Stephens by his hair and bring him up, then threads his opponent’s arm between his legs and snaps backwards to dump Stephens right on his fucking skull! *BANG!* “LOGICAL DISCONNECT!” Suicide King roars, “and it’s teatime in Frankfurt!” Flesher pops back to his feet, a nasty glint in his eyes… but suddenly Landon Maddix appears behind him and takes hold of the back of his singlet, then simply throws the Cruiserweight Champion out through the ropes to the floor! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “It’s all breaking down in here now,” Mak Francis shouts, “and we’re not done yet! Turn around, Landon!” Too late. Maddix turns around to find Charlie Matthews’ huge hands wrapping around his neck, but instead of the cushy through-the-ropes option that Flesher got, Grappler sends Landon all the way over the top of the cables instead and drops to cover Michael Stephens… ONE! TWO!! THHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRR- -NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “It was the delay!” Suicide King shouts, “there’s no way a wimp like Toxxic could have kicked out of that!” Charlie Matthews seems to agree, but instead of trying again the big man has his own plan. Namely, haul Stephens back to his feet and put him in a vertical headscissors… “He’s calling for the powerbomb,” Mak Francis says, “and this will do it!” Thing is, Matthews missed one thing. Landon Maddix is a former Clusterfuck winner, and it’s the instincts of people like that to hang on to the top rope when they get thrown over it. His battered midsection means that he hasn’t been able to do anything but hang there, but now La Cucaracha musters his strength and swings back and up, skinning the cat into the ring! “LET’S GO LAN-DON!” Charlie Matthews just gapes at him, only now realising what’s happened. And Landon sets off at a sprint. He leaps up… …vaults off Michael Stephens’ back as the World Champion is bent double with his head between Grappler’s legs… …and knees Charlie Matthews square in the jaw. *KERR-RRACK!* “YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “SHINING WIZARD!” Francis bellows as Matthews topples backwards like a mighty redwood. Stephens stumbles… and Landon reaches out to steady him. The two men look at each other for a moment as the crowd noise rises around them. Then Landon points at the turnbuckle, and Stephens nods. “What’re they doing?” King says nervously as Landon heads for one neutral corner while Stephens starts climbing the ringpost opposite, “Mak, what’re they doing?” “I don’t know,” the Franchise answers, “but I don’t think it’s going to be good for Charlie…” Atop their respective ringposts, Landon and Mike look at each other. Maddix flashes a thumbs-up. Stephens just shrugs. And then they both leap off, flying through the air as flashbulbs go off all around the Rexall Place. Landon pumps his arms and legs as he flies, Stephens performs a somersault in midair. They both land at the same time. Maddix comes down on top of Grappler’s chest with a Frog Splash, while Stephens lands the Hangover legdrop across Matthew’s throat. *BANG!!* Maddix rolls off, clutching at his ribs. It was one last shot to win the match, and Stephens makes the cover… ONE! Tom Flesher scrambles back into the ring and starts to run. TWO!! Landon Maddix reaches out and grabs at Flesher’s legs, staggering the Cruiserweight Champion. He’s not that effective. THHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! He didn’t need to be. *DING-DING-DING!* “YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “Ladies and gentlemen, here are your winners, and NEEEEEEWWWWWWW SWF Tag Team Champions of the WOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRLLLLLLLLLD~” Funyon booms over the rapturous crowd reaction and the bellowing of the Beastie Boys, “the team of Landon ‘La Cucaracha’ Maddix and Michael Stephens… TWO! SKINNY! WHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITE GUYS!!” “NO!” King bellows, “it can’t be! That can’t be right!” “It is right, and damn it King, it’s justified!” Mak Francis replies, “they’re a real team now, and they’re the tag team champions!” Matthew Kivell raises the hand of each man in victory, then presents them with the tag belts (after getting them off Amy and Megan). Stephens and Maddix look at each other for a long moment. Then they clasp hands. Maybe not as friends, but certainly - at least for now - as partners. FADE OUT