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“Y’know what? I reckon we can take Grappler and Taamo,” Landon Maddix says excitedly, “I mean think about it! You’ve beaten Tom, I’ve beaten Tom, I came this close to beating Grappler for the World Title that one time, and we’re clearly the greatest tag team the fed has seen in years. Those Tag Titles are as good as ours!” “Yeah, but you lost to Tom a couple of weeks ago,” Michael Stephens point out over his shoulder as the pair walk through the Gund Arena, although he seems to be preoccupied. You can tell, due to the fact that he’s not a bitchy as usual. “Eh, Cruiserweight rules,” Landon sniffs as if that explains everything, “just you wait, when it comes to a tag match we’ll own them. Seriously, we’ll just-” “Look, Landon,” Stephens says, turning round, “I’m glad you think this team can work, I’m glad you want this team to work. I think it can work as well, and since Peters seems intent on making us tag together then I figure we might as well win as much as we can doing it.” “Cool,” Landon nods, “but? I’m sensing a ‘but’ coming here.” “Yeah,” Stephens acknowledges, “but right now I’ve got a World Title match to focus on. If you really want, I’ll talk to you about our team afterwards. But for now I need to focus, cos JJ’s going to be doing his best to take my head off-” “Well, well, well.” The voice is a new one, and comes from further down the corridor. Landon looks around, curious to see who the new arrival is. As a result he misses the faint stiffening that comes across Stephens for a moment before the World Champion turns. Coming down the corridor towards them, looking fresh from the showers, is the newcomer to the SWF known as Gabriel Drake. The look in his eye is not pleasant, and he focuses on Michael Stephens to the point where it doesn’t seem that he’s even noticed Landon. “Gabe,” Stephens nods. A careful observer might notice that he swallows slightly, as if with nerves. Landon isn’t such an observer, but it seems that Drake is. “Hello Toxxic,” he sneers, coming to a stop a few feet away. “He prefers to be called by his real name now,” Landon chips in helpfully. Drake turns and looks at him, seemingly seeing him for the first time, then snorts. "Oh, if he prefers it, then of course I'll call him Michael..." Drake sneers with a sly grin, "but take my advice,” he confides to La Cucaracha, flicking a sly glance at Stephens, “watch your girlfriend around this one.” “No problem there,” Maddix laughs, “he’s gay now.” Drake’s eyes narrow, glancing at Stephens, then sliding back towards Landon. “…so what are you? His boyfriend?” Landon’s eyes shoot wide open, and the former World Champion looks first petrified, then angry, then slightly nauseous. Finally he contents himself with turning to his tag team partner and hissing “I don’t like this man.” “What the hell are you trying to prove, Gabe?” Stephens asks. “It was you who broke Karl’s leg, wasn’t it?” “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Drake smirks, “from what I heard, it was some guy called the Crimson Dragon. I haven’t seen dear old Karl in years - must remember to drop by sometime,” he adds maliciously. Stephens grimaces, and Drake continues. “However, if you’re talking about trying to prove something… well, I’ll admit it’s no coincidence I ended up here where my best friend from all that time ago is the World Champion. We always had a friendly rivalry, didn’t we Toxx?” he says, “so I think it’s only right we continue it now I’m back out in the big wide world.” “Gabe, you’re mad,” Stephens replies flatly. “You haven’t been in a ring for what? Four years? In that time, I’ve held the World Title four times. Bloody hell, even if I lose it tonight I’m still one of the most successful competitors this company has ever seen. And you think you’re just going to walk in and make my life difficult off the back of breaking Karl’s leg and beating up Ced Ordonez?” He leans slightly closer to the bigger man, his earlier nervousness seeming to disappear. “You’re a fucking psycho Gabe, but you’re rustier than the Tin Man after the Monsoon season. That’s my ring out there. Step into it with me, and I guarantee I’ll beat you so bad you won’t know which way is up. You think I’m scared of you? Smarten up.” “You weren’t so cocky on the road,” Drake says, weighing Stephens with his eyes. “You got pretty spooked in that parking lot, didn’t you? And in your motel room.” He laughs suddenly; a disturbing, tearing sound. “You can front it around other people, but we know the truth.” “That was you?” Stephens says, seemingly taken aback. The surprise in his voice seems to confuse Drake, who tilts his head quizzically. “You were expecting someone else?” “Well, I actually thought it was Kibagami,” Stephens admits, which just draws a blank stare from the bigger man. “Kiba-who?” “-gami,” Mike tells him, “like origami, only less paper folding and more headdrops.” Drake still seems nonplussed, and Stephens waves his hand to indicate that it is of no importance. “Don’t worry about it. Had a few… arguments with him a couple of years back. Broke his neck in 2004. You probably weren’t watching much TV at the time.” “Thanks for reminding me,” Drake growls, his momentary puzzlement disappearing. “You know Toxx,” he continues, “you’re partially right. It’s been quite a while since I was in the ring regularly. I’ll admit, it’s going to take a little time for it to come back to me.” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. They remain as hard and cold as ever. “The thing is, I’ve got plenty of time. I don’t think you’re going anywhere, Toxx. Everyone I’ve talked to says you don’t back down from fights… these days. So I want you to watch,” he continues, “and see what happens. Because every time I wrestle, and every time I hurt someone new in some interesting way, I want you to notice it. Because one day Toxx, when I’m good and ready, I’ll be stepping up to the main event where you’re sitting pretty. It won’t matter to me whether you’ve got that Big Gold Belt or not. Oh, Peters thinks the match could be huge, but either way I’ll take you, and break you, and throw the pieces away.” He sneers at the World Champion suddenly. “After what you did to me, I found my Beast. You’d better learn to fear it.” “It was too much to hope for that you might have learned from your mistakes, wasn’t it?” Stephens bites out. “The only mistake I ever made was trusting you!” Drake snarls back, and for a moment it looks like he’s about to launch himself bodily at the Englishman. Then he gets a grip on himself and smiles again. Like a shark. “Not yet, Toxx. I’ve had four years to think about this. I won’t let you sweat on it that long, but… you deserve a little time to think things over.” He steps back, sweeps his gaze over Landon again briefly, then turns to go. Maddix just watches him, then turns to his tag team partner. “What was that all abo-” Michael Stephens is halfway down the corridor in the opposite direction. As Landon watches he goes through a set of double doors without slowing down, thrusting out his palms to send both sides crashing back into the corridor walls. A member of the backstage crew in the path of the World Champion takes a look at his face and stands to one side. Stephens doesn’t even seem to notice him. “Damn it, he’s the one with the World Title,” Maddix grumbles, setting off after him, “how come he’s always the moody one…?”

As a commercial for Genesis fades out, we return backstage to the Gund Arena, where Ben Hardy is trying to chase down Wildchild and Melissa Fasaki as they hastily depart from their locker room and head towards the parking lot. “Wildchild!” shouts Ben, hustling to catch up with the couple. “Wildchild, a few words, please?” WC turns to face Ben, looking… well, looking like someone that just got screwed. “Wildchild, I know that you’re disappointed,” begins Hardy. “That was a very competitive match, you looked to be holding your own… it’s very unfortunate the way things turned out… How do you feel?” WC glares at Ben like he just grew a second head. “How do I feel?” Wildchild’s astonishment at such a dumbassed question quickly reverts to anger. Ben tries to back away, but WC grabs him by his shirt collar. “HOW DO I FEEL?” he bellows. “What d’you mean, how do I feel? You saw what jus’ happened: I got screwed by dat coward Van Siclen, an’ now I’m gon’ be suspended for fitty days… how do you T’INK I feel?” “I… I…” “Let’s get one t’ing straight,” snarls Wildchild. “I take not’ing away from Staunton an’ Rageheart. Dey’re both tough wresslers, an’ dey gave me a proper beatin’. But de fact of de matter is dat I had dem beat, an dat snivelin’ little weasel comes out of nowhere an’ cheats me out of my victory! “Van Siclen, I knew dat you were afraid to fight me,” growls WC, as he turns to face the camera, “but not even I believed dat you would stoop to dis jus’ to keep from havin’ t’fight me! Well, let me tell you dis… let me make dis perfectly clear t’everyone: I’m not t’rew wit’ you, Van Siclen, not by a long shot. You t’ink dis is over? Brotha, dis is jus’ getting’ started!” With that, WC and Melissa storm out of the building, leaving Ben holding the microphone with his typically dopey expression… As we: FADE OUT

FADE IN “Ever since Mike Van Siclen made his return to the SWF, Wildchild has been trying to get his hands on him,” says Mak Francis. “And, even though Van Siclen has been able to use whatever influence he has on SWF Commissioner Joseph Peters to avoid the match, he’s finally agreed to face Wildchild, but only if Wildchild can emerge victorious in our next match!” “And this is a match that creates tremendous interest for me,” says the Suicide King. “I’ve been looking forward to this match since the first time I heard of it!” “Why is that?” asks Mak. “Is it because Wildchild has a chance to face his demons with a win?” “No, stupid!” snaps King. “It’s because I get to see Clown-Boy get his ass handed to him by two angry Canadians! Nothing like a little mercenary work to brighten my day, Francis; I tell you, it does my old heart good to know that there are still people in this world that can be bought!” “And, while King exalts in the moral collapse of society,” says Mak, “let’s send you up to the ring!” DING! DING! DING! “The following Handicap Match is scheduled for one fall!” shouts Funyon. “And, if Wildchild wins by pinfall or submission, he will earn a match against Mike Van Siclen! However, if he does not win by pinfall or submission, he will be suspended for fifty days!” Suddenly, “Exciter” by Judas Priest begins to play, and the stage lights up in a brief but emphatic burst of pyro as Scott Rageheart and Kerry Staunton make their way down to the ring. “Introducing first,” says Funyon, “both hailing from Alberta, Canada, and at a total combined weight of five hundred fifteen pounds… Scott Rageheart! Kerry Staunton! The Canadian… MURDER MACHINE!” “There they are,” says Mak, as Scott and Kerry swat away the hands of fans trying to touch them on their way to the ring, “Mike Van Siclen’s two hired guns! I wonder what possessed them to take on such a heinous task?” “Money!” replies King gleefully. “A lot of money! Ain’t it great?” Staunton and Rageheart climb onto the apron and step between the ropes to enter the ring. Staunton removes his letterman’s jacket and hands it over the top rope to a ring attendant down on the arena floor. Referee Red Herrington inspects their kneepads and boots, and then instructs them to head over to their corner, where they review their strategy for the match as their music fades out. The fans begin cheering as Mystikal’s “Bouncin’ Back” then begins to play, heralding the arrival of the Wildchild! The Caribbean Cruiser makes his way out to the stage, hand-in-hand with Melissa Fasaki, and they wave to the crowd before making their way down towards the ring. “Their opponent,” continues Funyon, “is being accompanied to the ring by Melissa Fasaki! From the Bahamas, and weighing in at two hundred fourteen pounds… the WIIIIILDCHIIIIILD!” “Wildchild looks a little apprehensive about getting into the ring,” notes Francis, as WC stares warily into the ring at his opponents. “Well, you can hardly blame him,” says King. “The last time Wildchild ended up in a handicapped situation, it was against TKO, and he got his ass handed to him… and these guys are even bigger than TKO was!” “Unfortunately for the Wildchild,” replies Mak, “he’s going to have to try and get through both of these men if he wants to get his shot at Mike Van Siclen!” “I know!” chimes King happily. “He hates Van Siclen so much, he’s about to get killed for my amusement!” WC removes his shin guards and hands them to his girlfriend, giving her a quick peck on the cheek before somersaulting between the bottom and middle ropes to enter the ring. He heads towards the edge of the ring, but stops short of his traditional salute to the crowd, as he sees Staunton and Rageheart sneaking up on him from behind. WC spins around just as Herrington steps between them, and orders one of the tag team to head to the apron. “Well, if there’s any good news for Wildchild, it’s that only one member of the Canadian Murder Machine will be allowed in the ring at a time,” notes Mak, as WC’s music fades out. Staunton steps out onto the apron and Red Herrington signals to the timekeeper to ring the bell, signifying the start of the match: DING! DING! DING! “Bell’s gone!” shouts Francis. “And we’re underway!” Rageheart circles Wildchild, getting the Bahama Bomber to follow him until his back is turned to Staunton in the corner. Kerry sneaks back into the ring and heads over to attack WC… WHAM! … Only for the Bahama Bomber to spin around at the last second and nail Staunton between the eyes with a hard right hand! YEAAAAAAAAAAH! The crowd cheers as WC begins hammering Staunton repeatedly in the face, but his assault is brought to an abrupt end, as Scott Rageheart delivers a driving kneelift into Wildchild’s back! “Brilliant!” praises King. “They played Wildchild like a fiddle right there!” Rageheart grabs Wildchild by the wrist and whips him across the ring, lowering his head as WC rebounds and sending him high overhead with a big back-body drop! “Hell yeah!” cheers King, as Scott begins to stomp WC in the chest. “Rageheart sent him into orbit with that one!” Scott pulls WC to his feet and lifts him into a sidewalk slam position before bringing him back down onto his outstretched thigh with a pendulum backbreaker! Rageheart quickly applies a lateral press: ONE! TWO! TH— Wildchild kicks out at two! Scott pulls WC to his feet and leads him over to his corner and makes the tag to Kerry Staunton. Red Herrington begins to administer a five-count as the Canadian Murder Machine both grab WC around the throat and heave him forcefully into the turnbuckles! Rageheart exit to the apron as Staunton begins to kick WC repeatedly in the midsection. Kerry then pulls him out towards the center of the ring and captures him in an arm-trap bearhug before hauling him overhead with a belly-to-belly suplex! Staunton quickly pops to his feet and measures Wildchild for an elbow drop! Upon landing, he reaches over to hook WC’s leg as he applies a half-hearted cover: ONE! TWO! TH— Wildchild gets the shoulder up! Nonplussed, Staunton pulls him to his feet and leads him over to the corner, where he makes the tag to Rageheart. Kerry holds WC’s arm back, exposing his ribs as Scott returns to the ring and delivers a stiff kick to that very same area! Scott grabs WC by the neck and takes him over with a snapmare; he then jars Wildchild’s spine with a tremendous punt kick! Rageheart pushes him down to the canvas and applies a cover: ONE! TWO! THR— Rageheart pulls WC up at the last second! “Yes!” crows King. “They’re going to deliver some more punishment! You’ve got to admire guys that get into their work!” Scott grabs Wildchild by the wrist and whips him across the ring into the opposite corner. He runs to the ropes as WC bounces off the turnbuckles and leaps into the air to deliver a flying shoulderblock… But he takes a header into the canvas instead, as Wildchild ducks out of the way! WC rushes out to the apron and waits for Scott to get back to his feet before leaping onto the top rope; the Human Hurricane springs from the top rope, flipping forward as he extends both feet, and knocks Rageheart back down with a Shooting Star missile dropkick that sends him rolling over by the ropes! “Shooting Star missile dropkick!” shouts Mak. “That’s the first real offense that Wildchild has show in this match! WC pulls Rageheart to his feet and grabs him by the wrist to whip him across the ring, but Scott still has the presence of mind to reverse. Rageheart bellies out against the canvas as WC rebounds and runs over the top of him, but Kerry Staunton drives a knee into Wildchild’s back as he tries to rebound a second time! WC staggers off the ropes bent over, giving Rageheart a chance to floor him with a charging kneelift to the face! “And there’s the advantage of having a partner out there!” says King, as Scott clears the cobwebs and heads back over to his corner to make the tag. Before exiting the ring, he grabs WC and pulls him back to his feet, whipping him across the ring into the turnbuckle. Kerry then grabs Scott by the wrist and whips HIM into the corner, to blast Wildchild with a running lariat! Rageheart grabs WC by the back of the head and leads him forcefully back towards the center of the ring… CRACK! Right into a Kerry Staunton big boot! Rageheart exits to the ring apron as applies a cocky pin, stepping on Wildchild’s chest: ONE! TWO! THR— Wildchild just gets the shoulder up! Staunton pulls WC to his feet and then lifts him overhead in a military press position! “Look at the power display by Kerry Staunton!” marvels King, as Staunton does reps with WC’s weight. “That’s two hundred and fourteen pounds that he’s throwing around like a sack of potatoes!” Staunton tilts to the side and dumps WC casually to the mat. He then heads over to his corner and quickly tags Rageheart back in. Scott heads to the ropes, running directly towards his partner as he rebounds, who snatches him up into his arms and tosses him into the air, giving Rageheart a little more altitude as he comes crashing down onto WC with a flying splash! CRASH! … But Rageheart crashes into the canvas, as WC rolls out of the way at the last second! YEAAAAAAAAAAH! “Nobody home!” shouts Mak. “And I think that Kerry Staunton may have made a mistake by tagging Scott Rageheart back in so soon!” Staunton charges towards WC, who uses the ropes to pull himself back to his feet; the Tropical Tumbler sees him coming at the last split-second and falls to the canvas… pulling the top rope down with him! CRASH! The fans cheer enthusiastically as Staunton stumbles over the top rope and out of the ring, down to the arena floor! WC then wastes no time in taking the fight to the disoriented Scott Rageheart, hammering him repeatedly in the face with piston-like right hands! He pulls Rageheart to his feet and backs him up against the ropes; he grabs him by the wrist to whip him across the ring, but Scott still reverses easily. He extends his arm to deliver a clothesline as WC rebounds, but the Caribbean Cruiser ducks underneath and runs past him, leaping onto the top rope as he approaches the edge of the ring and curling into a ball as he springs back towards his opponent, knocking Rageheart off his feet with a Pinball attack! “Look at Wildchild go to work!” shouts Mak. “He’s really done a job on Scott Rageheart since he’s managed to take Kerry Staunton out of the picture!” “This is the best chance he’s got at winning,” says King, “so he’d better not waste it! If he hasn’t won this thing before Staunton gets back on the apron, he’s got no chance!” WC quickly exits to the ring apron and heads to a neutral corner, leaping onto the top rope and measuring Scott as he flies back into the ring to drive a fistdrop right between Rageheart’s eyes! He hooks the leg as he applies a cover: ONE! TWO! THR— Rageheart kicks out at two! WC pulls him to his feet and leads him over to a neutral corner. He straddles the middle ropes and begins to deliver a ten-count punch; the fans chant along with his punches: ONE! TWO! THREE! Staunton climbs back onto the apron… FOUR! Staunton rushes across the apron to stop Wildchild… FIVE! CRASH! Suddenly the Human Hurricane stops what he’s doing and leaps over the top rope, extending his body to slam into Staunton with a high cross-body block, catching the bigger man off-balance and knocking them both off the apron; WC lands atop Staunton as they crash to the arena floor! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! “Tremendous move by Wildchild to catch Staunton off-balance!” exclaims Mak. “That’s the risk that you take when you run across the apron like that!” WC hammers Staunton in the face with hard right hands until he notices Rageheart staggering around the ring; he quickly climbs back onto the apron and leaps onto the top rope. Wildchild springs into the ring, grabbing Scott by the neck as he flies overhead and driving him into the canvas face-first with his patented flipping neck snap! YEAAAAAAAAAAH! “Whiplash!” shouts Mak, as WC spins his hands overhead. “Scott Rageheart is down! And Wildchild just gave the sign for the Falling Star Press!” Wildchild scampers towards the edge of the ring and leaps back onto the top rope, flipping in a forward motion as he springs back into the ring to crash into Rageheart with his patented Falling Star Press! “There’s the Falling Star Press!” shouts Mak. “This could be it!” ONE! TWO! THREE! NO! Staunton dives into the ring at the last second and breaks up the three-count! “Man!” exclaims Mak. “Wildchild was so close!” Wildchild exits to the ring apron as Red Herrington orders Staunton to return to his corner; he climbs to the top turnbuckle and waits for Rageheart to get back to his feet before diving into the ring, grabbing Scott in a waistlock as he flies overhead and pulling him into a Sunset Flip! ONE! TWO! THR— NO! Rageheart kicks out just before the three-count! Wildchild pulls Scott to his feet and backs him up against the ropes; he grabs Rageheart by the wrist and whips him across the ring, but Scott reaches back to make a blind tag before reversing the whip attempt. Rageheart lowers his head to deliver a back-body drop, but WC deftly evades him with a running leapfrog, only to be caught in a bearhug by Kerry Staunton! Staunton continues to hold WC as Rageheart runs towards the edge of the ring, leaping onto the top rope and springing back into the ring… BANG! … To blast Wildchild in the face with a springboard dropkick! “Beautiful dropkick!” praises King. “Great athleticism… and Wildchild’s little insurrection is put down just as quickly as it started!” Rageheart rolls out to the apron to gather himself, as Staunton pulls WC to his feet; the Crazed Canuck traps Wildchild in a front facelock and then reaches down to grab his leg before lifting him up into the air, suspending him upside down in a stalling Brainbuster! “This is how you beat the Wildchild,” says King. “You keep him from making use of his speed, and wear him down with power moves; and this is a nice display of power by Kerry Staunton!” “King, that’s sound strategy perhaps ninety-eight percent of the time,” counters Mak, “but I’ve got to question the wisdom in trying to use a move like this on Wildchild. Let’s not forget that this kid spent half his life hanging upside down as a circus acrobat; I can’t imagine that this is hurting him all that much!” Sure enough, WC regains his faculties and begins to try and get out of the hold, but before he can break free, Staunton turns towards his corner and flings Wildchild forward, dropping him waist-first across the top rope! “That was great!” applauds King. “It was like a slingshot suplex, only he left out the suplex!” Staunton backpedals across the ring, and then calls Red Herrington over to him, pantomiming as though he has something in his eye. While the referee’s attention is diverted from the Canadian Murder Machine’s corner, Rageheart reaches into the ring to grab WC by the back of the head… BANG! … And snatches him off the top rope slamming him headfirst down to the arena floor! “Oh my god!” shrieks Mak, as Rageheart dives off the ropes to drive an elbow drop into Wildchild’s chest. “Turn around, referee! We’ve got a mugging going on outside the ring!” “This is quality entertainment!” says King, grabbing a handful of popcorn. “I’m recommending to the board that Wildchild be booked in handicap matches for every Pay Per View… Hell, for every SHOW! This is freaking GREAT!” Rageheart pulls WC to his feet and carries him over to the edge of the ring, rolling him underneath the bottom rope, where his partner applies a lateral press: ONE! TWO! THREE! NO! FOOT ON THE ROPES! “Ah!” groans King in disgust. “He took the cheap way out!” Rageheart shoves Wildchild’s foot off the ropes before climbing back onto the apron, and Staunton applies another half-hearted cover: ONE! TWO! FOOT ON THE ROPES! “He did it again!” spits King. “Once again,” repeats Mak, “that foot on the ropes saves Wildchild from being pinned!” Staunton gets to his feet and reaches down grabbing WC by the wrists, dragging him towards the center of the ring. “Look at this,” says King gleefully. “Staunton’s going to drag him to the middle now; there won’t be no ropes now!” Kerry collapses atop Wildchild to apply a cover: ONE! TWO! THR— NO! Wildchild just gets the shoulder up! Staunton pounds the canvas in frustration before heading out to the apron and climbing up to the top turnbuckle. “Staunton’s up in the high-rent district!” shouts Mak, as WC rolls around on the canvas. “He must be going for that missile dropkick… and Wildchild doesn’t have a clue where Staunton is!” “Wildchild doesn’t know where HE is!” quips King. Staunton waits for WC to get to his feet and then steadies himself before leaping off the top rope… WHAM! … But the Bahama Bomber springs off the canvas at the last second and knocks the bigger man out of the sky with a dropkick of his own! YEAAAAAAAAAAH! “Tremendous counter by the Wildchild!” shouts Mak. “And it couldn’t have come at a better time!” “It was a nice counter, I’ll give you that,” concedes King, “but he’s still got to deal with Rageheart out on the apron; don’t forget that this is a handicap match!” No sooner does King finish illustrating that fact, than Staunton makes it over to his corner and tags his partner. Rageheart returns to the ring and stomps WC repeatedly in the back. He then pulls Wildchild to his feet and whips him across the ring into the corner. Rageheart helps his partner to his feet and then asks him to send him into the corner; Kerry whips Scott across the ring towards WC, but before he crashes into the corner with a running lariat, the Human Hurricane ducks out of the corner and charges towards Staunton… WHAM! … Knocking him down with a running leg lariat! Rageheart turns back towards the center of the ring and charges towards Wildchild, but the Bahama Bomber takes him down with a drop toehold that slams him face-first into his partner’s crotch! YEAAAAAAAAAAH! WC quickly scampers to his feet and runs to the ropes, leaping into the air as he rebounds and flipping as he crashes into Scott Rageheart’s back with a somersault senton that drives Scott’s face back into Staunton’s crotch, and causes Kerry to sit straight up in excruciating pain! The fans taunt the Canadian Murder Machine’s predicament as they chant unmercifully: BROKE-BACK MOUNT-AIN! CLAP-CLAP! CLAP-CLAP-CLAP! BROKE-BACK MOUNT-AIN! CLAP-CLAP! CLAP-CLAP-CLAP! BROKE-BACK MOUNT-AIN! CLAP-CLAP! CLAP-CLAP-CLAP! BROKE-BACK MOUNT-AIN! CLAP-CLAP! CLAP-CLAP-CLAP! Wildchild pulls Rageheart to his feet and whips him into the ropes, clipping him in the knees as he rebounds with a basement dropkick! WC quickly gets back to his feet and runs to the ropes himself, racing back towards Rageheart… BANG! … And blasting him in the face with a Shining Enzugiri! Wildchild applies a cover: ONE! TWO! THR— NO! Staunton runs over to break up the pin at the last second! WC punches Rageheart in the face as Herrington orders Staunton out to the apron. Wildchild traps Rageheart in a side-headlock, but Scott leads WC back against the edge of the ring and pushes him across the ring into the ropes. Rageheart bellies out as WC rebounds, and Staunton moves over to nail him with a cheap shot, but WC slams on the brakes, shaking a scolding finger at him. Kerry continues to hold Wildchild’s attention as his partner gets back to his feet and charges towards their opponent with a running shoulderblock, but WC sees him coming out of the side of his eye and tumbles out of the way! Rageheart crashes into his bigger partner and staggers backwards into the ring, right into a Wildchild rollup! ONE! TWO! THRE— NO! Rageheart kicks out! Wildchild beats Scott to his feet and ducks a wild roundhouse punch, popping up behind Rageheart and bringing his knees up as he grabs Scott by the shoulders and falls to the canvas… BAM! …. Driving his knees into Scott’s back with a Lungblower! Wildchild gets back to his feet and runs over to a nearby corner, quickly leaping onto the top rope to go for a moonsault… CRASH! … But Kerry Staunton runs over to the corner and pushes Wildchild off the turnbuckles, sending him flying out to the arena floor, where he crashes into the barricade! “Quick thinking on the part of Kerry Staunton to regain control of the match!” praises King, as Staunton returns to his corner, where Rageheart is waiting to tag him in. “That’s the advantage of having a partner!” Kerry drops down to the arena floor and walks around the ring to where WC is leaning against the barricade. He pulls Wildchild to his feet and then lifts him overhead in a military press, before dropping him chest-first onto the ring barricade! “I’m loving this!” cheers King. “The referee is busy checking on Scott Rageheart, so he’s not concentrating on the count, which leaves Kerry Staunton free to do damage outside the ring!” Staunton grabs WC by the wrist and pulls him away from the barricade; he whips him across the ring into the ringpost, and then runs in to follow up with a clothesline… CRACK! … But WC takes him down with a drop toehold, sending the Angry Albertan crashing into the ringpost face-first! Both men are still lying on the floor when Red Herrington turns back around, and begins to deliver a ten-count: ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! “So King,” wonders Francis, “who do you think has the upper hand at this point?” FIVE! “I still like the Machine’s chances,” replies King. “For the simple fact that they can tag in and out, and get a breather; I just don’t see any way that Wildchild can overcome the odds to win this match!” SEVEN! Wildchild is first back to his feet! EIGHT! Wildchild rolls back into the ring! NINE! Wildchild rolls back out of the ring? “He broke up the count!” exclaims a bewildered King. “He elected to take more punishment, rather than escape with a win; what the hell’s is wrong with him?” “Well, it should be obvious, King,” replies Mak. “Wildchild can’t get what he wants unless he wins by pinfall or submission… so he HAD to break up the count!” Unwilling to even attempt to exert any energy to try and get Staunton back into the ring, WC instead simply rolls back into the ring and lets Red Herrington resume his count: ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! WHAM! With Red Herrington’s attention focused on Kerry Staunton, Scott Rageheart sneaks back into the ring and levels Wildchild from behind with a running lariat! He then pulls WC to his feet and grapevines his leg from the side, trapping him in a side headlock before snapping him backwards with a side Russian legsweep! Rageheart rolls out of the ring just as Staunton returns to the apron, and Herrington turns his attention back to the action, none the wiser. “I told you before,” says King, “and I can’t emphasize it enough: that extra man is an impossible advantage to overcome, especially when you’re the size of Wildchild!” Staunton stumbles over to his corner, where he makes the tag to Rageheart. Scott storms back into the ring and pulls WC roughly to his feet, whipping him across the ring and scooping him up into a bearhug as he rebounds, spinning around sharply on his heel and planting him into the canvas with a Spinebuster! Scott applies a cover: ONE! TWO! THR— NO! Without missing a beat, Rageheart pulls WC back to his feet and whips him into the ropes yet again, this time leaping into the air as his opponent rebounds and locking his legs behind WC’s head, taking him over with a standing Hurricanrana! “Beautiful!” shouts King, as Rageheart pumps his fist exuberantly. “Not only are they putting a beating on Wildchild, but now they’re beating him at his own game!” Scott pulls Wildchild to his feet and leads him over to a neutral corner; he lifts him up onto the top turnbuckle, and then straddles the middle turnbuckles himself. “What’s he going to do here?” wonders Mak, as Rageheart traps Wildchild in a front facelock. “I know!” says King. “He’s going for that stalling Superplex! This could be it right here!” Scott is so pleased with himself as he taunts the fans with his strength that he fails to notice when Wildchild starts to wake up; the Tropical Tumbler rolls off of Rageheart’s shoulders, grabbing him by the neck as he falls to the canvas… CRUNCH! … And pulverizing Scott’s neck with a hangman’s neckbreaker! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! “The Neck Wrecker!” shrieks Mak. “He countered that Superplex with a Neck Wrecker! Rageheart’s not moving!” Wildchild crawls across the ring to a neutral corner, using the ropes to pull himself back to his feet as Rageheart crawls over to his corner, where he feebly makes the tag back to Kerry Staunton. Staunton storms back into the ring and makes his way towards WC, but the Bahama Bomber stuns him with a kick to the face! Wildchild leaps onto the top turnbuckle, twisting his body as he springs back into the ring, but Staunton catches him in midair! The corpulent Canuck charges towards the corner, slamming Wildchild’s back against the top turnbuckle before turning back towards the center of the ring as he plants WC into the canvas with his patented Calgary Stampede powerslam! He holds Wildchild down for a pin attempt: ONE! TWO! TH— Wildchild kicks out at two! Staunton gets to his feet and looks out into the crowd as he adjusts his right elbow pad. “Here it comes!” exclaims King. “The Axe Bomber; if he hits THIS, it’s all over!” Staunton pulls Wildchild to his feet and backs him against the ropes; he grabs WC by the wrist and whips him across the ring, backing into the ropes to get a running start before taking off after him! Staunton raises his arm as WC bounces off the ropes to deliver the Axe Bomber! CRACK! … But the Tropical Tumbler narrowly ducks underneath, leaping off the canvas as Staunton wheels around and swinging his leg through the air to blast Staunton in the face with a Gamengiri that knocks Staunton onto his back! “Shade of three weeks ago!” cheers Mak. “Wildchild’s definitely got that Axe Bomber well scouted!” WC scrambles to his feet and runs quite unexpectedly over to the Canadian Murder Machine’s corner, leaping onto the middle turnbuckle and springing over the top rope, snaring Rageheart by the head… BANG! … And driving him face-first into the concrete floor with a springboard Tornado DDT! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! The Caribbean Cruiser scrambles back onto the ring apron and briefly raises his arms overhead, cuffing his wrists together, before he brings his hands back down to grasp the top rope as he waits nervously for Staunton to get back to his feet. “Wildchild just gave the sign for Presumed Guilty!” shouts Mak. “He’s already beaten Staunton with this move once before!” Wildchild leaps onto the top rope the instant that Staunton starts to stand up and then leaps into the ring… CRASH! … When suddenly, Mike Van Siclen comes racing in from seemingly out of nowhere and hooks Wildchild by the ankle, tripping him up and causing him to fall on his face in the ring! “Oh no!” cries Francis. “Where did Van Siclen come from?” Without warning, Van Siclen slides into the ring and begins assaulting Wildchild with kicks to the back, in full view of the referee, forcing him to order the timekeeper to ring the bell: DING! DING! DING! “Ladies and gentlemen,” says Funyon, “I have been informed by the referee that, due to outside interference by Mike Van Siclen, Scott Rageheart and Kerry Staunton have been disqualified! Therefore, the winner of this contest… the WIIIIILDCHIIIIILD!” YEAAAAAAAAAAH! “However,” continues Funyon, “Wildchild was unable to win this match by pinfall or submission…” Mak’s head snaps up in alarm. “What?” “Therefore, as a result of the stipulations of the match, Wildchild has been suspended for fifty days, effective immediately!” BOOOOOOOOOO! “What?” Wildchild’s eyes bulge in disbelief as he grabs the referee by the collar. “Dis isn’ fair!” “You’ve got to be kidding me!” shouts Mak. “Mike Van Siclen makes the stipulation that Wildchild has to win the match by pinfall or submission, and then he gets the CMM disqualified! What kind of garbage do you call that?” “I call it brilliant!” crows King. “Mike Van Siclen just played Wildchild like a Stradivarius! He preyed on Wildchild’s emotion, and suckered him into a match that he couldn’t possibly win… And then, just when it looked like Wildchild was going to catch a break, he finds out that Van Siclen stacked the deck! Beautiful, simply beautiful!” Wildchild appears to be on the verge of a fit; he is still clutching onto the referee’s shirt and shaking him violently, stopping just short of causing him physical harm. Melissa rushes in to try and console him, but WC is inconsolable. “What an unfortunate turn of events,” moans Mak, “as Wildchild was lured into a handicap match by Mike Van Siclen in the hopes of earning a chance to face him one-on-one, only the cheated by the final result! Now Wildchild is going to have to sit out for fifty days, but I guarantee that this thing between him and Mike Van Siclen is far from over!” Van Siclen stops at the top of the ramp and turns back towards the ring with a sly grin on his face. He waves goodbye to his nemesis, who continues to cry out in frustration… As we: FADE OUT

As the aura of MANSONOSITY slowly dissapates and Black Sabbath's "War Pigs" winds down, the Gund Arean (Fuck Quicken Loans in its statement of cash flows) is still going crazy [Well, not so much the actual building, as that would be super-wacky, but the fans are totally being wild and crazy kids (With Omar Gooding!)]. And then, a camera man zooms in on an ominious sight: A barbed-wire wrapped panda bear plush toy, suspended some twenty feet above the ring. And then, the camera man pans over to the Suicide King and Mak Francis. "It's time, it's time, it's Stairway to Panda time!" Francis exclaims. "Oh hell yes!" King shouts in agreement. "Blood sport and all that jazz." "Current Hardcore Gamers champion, Jimmy the Doom, is set to defend his title against three other men in an old-school stipulation that promises to reach Damnation in a Box-levels of blood and gore," Mak says. "Very possible, Mak, but it'll be missing a certain element that made Damnation in a Box so great: Namely, Spike Jenkins displaying his lunch for all to see," King points out. "And you can never have enough of Jenkins getting attacked, especially with lawn implements. However, as you said, Spike isn't in this match, so we'll have to settle for Insane Luchador, Mike Van Siclen, and Trent Hawk trying to prove how tough they are," the 'Franchise' says. The lights dim and a single, brilliant, gold spotlight shines down on the center of the stage. And then Living Colour's "Cult of Personality" hits, and Hawk steps out from behind the curtain. And then a shower of sparks form an arch behind Trent as he walks down to the ring. "Ladies and gentlemen, the following is a Stairway to Panda match for the Hardcore title! A stuffed panda, wrapped in barbed wire will be suspended above the ring, and whomever retrieves it is allowed use of it, yet the match shall only end by way of pinfall. Introducing, first, from Hollywood, California, he is a member of the Axis, and weighs two hundred, forty-three pounds, TRRRENT HAAAAWWK!" Funyon booms. Trent stops in front of the ring, glances at a ladder to his left, then to the panda, and slides the ladder into the ring. And then he rolls inside and sets it up. And then Hawk begins climbing, obviously intent on getting the panda now and keeping it for the entire match. "And Trent Hawk is looking to capitalize in being the first man out! I don't see how that's even legal. The match hasn't started yet," Mak says. "Oh, come on, Ironsides, if the match hasn't begun, then of course it's legal," King points out. However, before Hawk is halfway up the ladder, Alice in Chains's "Man in the Box" kicks up, and Insane Luchador runs down the ramp. And then he slides in the ring, springs to his feet, and kips up. And then, the Ill One scrambles up the ladder behind Hawk and lunges, catching Trent in a rear naked choke. And then Hawk falls off the ladder, the extra weight too much for him to bear. "Also in the ring, from Easton, Pennsylvania, at two hundred, twenty-one pounds, he is Your Psychotic Hero, IIIINSSAAAAANE LUUUUCHAAAADOOORRRRR!" Funyon shouts, perfectly rolling his Rs (Your mother likes her Rs rolled, Trebek!) As Luchador continues to choke out Hawk, sirens go off, and The Team's "Hyphy Juice" blares. And then Mike Van Siclen steps out. And then he crosses himself, kisses his fingers, points to the sky (If crazy alternate timeline place has a sky and not just a giant void or something) before walking down to the ring. "Next, from Harrison, Illinois, he weighs two hundred, sixty-three pounds, MMIIIIKE VAAAAN SSSSIIIIICLENN!" Funyon hollers. Van Siclen saunters down to the ring and rolls inside the squared circle. And then he regards Hawk and the Ill One for a moment before folding up the ladder and slamming it across Hawk's chest. "And Van Siclen is softening up Trent Hawk as well. Pretty good strategy to try and eliminate one guy from the get-go," King says. "They could wait for the bell, though, in Insane Luchador's case, I can kind of understand it," Mak says. As Mike wails on Trent with the ladder, the lights go out, and a bunch of marching footsteps can be heard, along with a single word, chanted over and over. 'DOOM! DOOM! DOOM! DOOM! DOOM!' The lights snap back on to reveal a gaggle of druids (Is that the correct term for a group of druids? I know it is for geese, but not sure about druids. A loser of druids maybe? Meh.). And then, Boots Randolph's "Yakety Sax" plays, prompting Jimmy the Doom and Lois the Unethical to walk out, title belt in Lois's hand. "And finally, being accompanied by Lois the Unethical, he is the Hardcore champion! From Doomopolis, Doomtopia, weighing two hundred, thirty pounds, the Straight-Bread Sensation, JJJIIIMMMEEEE THE DOOOOOOM!" Funyon shouts. Doom climbs into the ring and immediately gets smashed by Van Siclen with the ladder. And then Funyon takes the Hardcore title from Lois and sits down. And then referee Bob Loblaw calls for the bell. DING! DING! DING! Van Siclen bashes Jimmy in the face with the ladder a second time, then shoves him over the top rope. And then Mike turns around and sets the ladder up underneath the panda. And then he begins to climb the ladder, but doesn't get far as Insane Luchador shoves a nearly unconscious Trent Hawk away, springs up, and nails MVS with a kidney punch. And then the Ill One grabs Van Siclen around the waist and yanks him down, slamming Mike's jaw into several ladder rungs. And then Jimmy stands back up and rolls inside the ring. "It should be interesting to see how things play out, as both Mike Van Siclen and Trent Hawk have motivation beyond winning the Hardcore title to go after Jimmy the Doom. Doom beat Van Siclen and Hawk's stablemate, Ciro Vitale fairly recently," Mak says. "And, Insane Luchador, of course, sucks and can be written off completely," King adds. "Not in the slightest! Luchador, while on the losing end, managed to survive Pandamonium against Bruce Blank, an impressive feat," Mak points out. "Well, don't forget that Van Siclen had a match against Blank recently, though he lost as well. Jimmy, on the other hand, has a winning record against the longest-reigning Hardcore champion, but has lost in the only hardcore-style match the two had, a four-way affair much like this, if I recall," King says. Insane Luchador turns his attention on Doom and gets tagged with a shotei to the chest. And then Jimmy grabs the Psychotic Hero by the shirt, pulls him in, and cracks him with an elbow. And then Doom nails IL with another elbow. And then the Straight-Bread Sensation begins crossfacing the Ill One with elbow after elbow. And then the Doomtopian chucks Insane Luchador into the corner. And then, Jimmy charges after IL and wraps him up in a side headlock. And then Doom begins to pull the Luchador out, but finds the Psychotic Hero's arms wrapped firmly around his waist. And then the Ill One lifts Jimmy off the mat and plants him with a backdrop suplex. "I thought Insane Luchador might be looking for the GoreGasm as a counter to Jimmy's 73.5267.1094Q80.16, but instead went for a suplex," Francis says. "Well, it's not like he had anything to smash Doom through, except, of course, the ladder," King states. Luchador scrambles up, as does Doom, but before the two can exchange blows, Mike Van Siclen crashes into the Ill One with a forearm to the back. And then Mike wraps the Pennsylvanian up and slams him into the mat with a release German suplex. And then Van Siclen gets up, only to find Jimmy the Doom in the process of burying the sole of his right boot in Mike's gut by way of a spinning back kick. And then Mike stumbles backwards, prompting the Straight-Bread Sensation to charge him. And then Mike recovers enough to close the distance and trip Doom with a drop toe hold, sending his forehead into the very bottom rung of the ladder. "And that should help take something out of Jimmy the Doom! Might knock out a lesser man, but you and I both know that Jimmy the Doom is made out of tougher stuff, right, King?" "Yeah, sure, that's whatever you were talking about for you," King replies. Doom tries to scramble back up, but he gets punted in the back of the head by Van Siclen. And then Mike tries to pull Jimmy off the mat, but finds a pair of crazy hands on his shoulders. And then Insane Luchador spins Mike around and nails him with a left hook. And then the Ill One tries for an elbow, but Van Siclen drives a knee into Luchador's groin. And then Mike grabs IL by the hair, steps under the ladder, and cinches on a cravate, using the hinge of the ladder to choke the Psychotic Hero. "A cravate? Damn it, neither Spike nor Landon are in this match, so why is a fucking cravate being used?" Mak fumes. "Because it's actually effective in this situation," King points out. "But, come on, CRAVATE!" As Van Siclen continues to choke IL, Trent Hawk finally begins to stir. And then Hawk stumbles to his feet and begins to climb the ladder. And then, Luchador plants both hands on Van Siclen's back and shoves, neatly clotheslining him with help from the other ladder hinge. And then the Ill One backs up and throws a dropkick at the hinge that was recently asphyxiating him. And then the ladder nearly snaps shut, sending Trent off balance. And then Hawk falls to the ground on his back. "Insane Luchador stops Trent Hawk for a second time in getting to the panda, and it looks like he has a chance with everyone else on the mat," Mak points out. "Well, he's got to set it up first, and since he is from Pennsylvania, that's a level of engineering he's unfamiliar with," King replies. Luchador pulls Hawk off the mat, shoves him into a front facelock, and falls back with that Insane Luchador staple, an Evenflow DDT. And then the Psychotic Hero gets to his feet, picks up the ladder, and begins climbing. And then Jimmy the Doom rises, runs to the other side of the ladder, and starts his ascent. And then, thanks to his long limbs, the Straight-Bread Sensation gets to the top of the ladder first, only to get cracked in the ribs by the Ill One. And then Insane Luchador smashes Doom with another punch. And then IL cocks back to throw a third blow, but the Hardcore champ nails him with a two-handed palm strike, nearly shoving Luchador off the ladder. And then Jimmy grabs hold of the panda's torso, but seems to be having trouble unhooking it. And then Insane Luchador slides down the ladder and kicks it over, leaving the Straight-Breader to dangle above the ring. And then the Psychotic Hero folds the ladder up, picks it up, and swats at Jimmy the Doom with it. "Looks like Insane Luchador is trying to hit Jimmy the Doom out of the park with that ladder," Francis says. "I don't see how that's allowed," King mumbles. "And why wouldn't it be? Pretty much anything goes in a Stairway to Panda match," Mak says. "True, but that ladder is made of metal, and metal bats are only allowed in college and high school. Insane Luchador is a professional, so he should be using a wooden one," King points out. "Yeah, but you just said metal bats, so what does it matter what the ladder is made out of?" the Franchise questions "Hey, a whacking stick is a whacking stick!" King shouts. Jimmy the Doom gets smacked in the legs with the ladder, but Insane Luchador doesn't really have that much power behind his swings, however, it still probably hurts. And then, the Straight-Bread Sensation finally manages to detatch the panda. And then he realizes that he's fairly high off the ground, which, incidentally, is moving up very fast to meet him. "That's got to hurt! Jimmy the Doom just took, what, a twenty foot fall?" "Perhaps, but this is Jimmy the Doom we're talking about. Besides, now he's got the panda. You know, that sounds incredibly stupid," the Suicide King mutters. Insane Luchador swings the ladder of Doom's head, but the champion manages to roll out of the way. And then Mike Van Siclen (Remember him?) gets up, walks towards the Ill One, grabs him by the face and drops, driving his knee into the back of Luchador's head. And then Jimmy lunges at Van Siclen, hitting him in the face with the panda. And then Mike's hands shoot to his face, allowing the Straight-Breader to shove the bear under Van Siclen's shirt. And then Jimmy boots Mike in the gut, driving the barbed wire into his belly. And then Doom just unleashes with a barrage of kicks to Van Siclen's stomach, no doubt tearing into Mike's decidedly non-straight-bread basket. And then Doom catches Mike in a double underhook, lifts him up, and drops the big man stomach-first across the ladder. "That's a very creative way to use that panda, though Jimmy the Doom doesn't really have many moves that target the midsection," Mak points out. "Aside from Jimmy's Jump, yeah, but, still, that's got to hurt like shit," King says. Trent Hawk slowly gets up and just barely ducks a Doomtopian kick that was aimed for his head. And then Hawk dives towards Jimmy, nailing him with a flying punch to the crotch. And then Trent tries to lift Doom up, but Jimmy wriggles free and blasts Hawk with a shotei to the jaw. And then Doom hits Hawk with another palm strike, sending him into the ropes. And then Trent bounces out, right into a double handed choke lift from Doom, who spins around and sits out, driving the Californian into the mat with a powerbomb. And then the Straight-Bread Sensation tosses his legs over Hawk's arms. And then Bob Loblaw dives to the mat to count the pin. ONE! TWO-No! "Nearly a two count after that Jimmy Bomb, but Trent Hawk is a fairly tough individual," Mak says. "If Doom had slammed him into the ladder, then maybe that would have gotten the three count," King points out. Jimmy pulls Hawk up and notices Insane Luchador on his feet. And then Doom nods to the Psychotic Hero, possibly passing him some kind of plan telepathically. And then the Straight-Breader drags Trent by the hair to the ropes and Doom steps outside. And then the Doomtopian grabs Hawk by the head and drops off the apron, slamming Trent's trachea into the ropes. And then Insane Luchador snares the stumbling Hawk by the waist, lifts, and drives him into the ladder. And then Luchador makes a cover as Doom scrambles to get back in the ring. ONE! Jimmy races towards Luchador, Hawk, and Loblaw (Attorneys at Law). TWO! Doom dives for Insane Luchador. THR-No! "And the pin is broken up by Jimmy the Doom! Insane Luchador might have been the new Hardcore title after that GoreGasm onto the ladder, but Jimmy breaks it up with a double ax handle!" Mak shouts. "See? Smash a guy into something metal and he stays down longer," King says. Insane Luchador gets to his feet and eats an elbow from Doom. And then Jimmy hits Luchador with another elbow before whipping him to the ropes. And then Doom chases after the Ill One, leaps, and knocks him flat with a flying front kick. And then Doom picks IL off the mat and throws him out of the ring. And then the Straight-Breader peels Van Siclen off the ladder, picks it up, and tosses it on the Ill One. And then Jimmy bends Mike over and slams him to the mat with the Doom Factor. And then Jimmy rolls Van Siclen over and makes a lateral press. ONE! Insane Luchador pushes the ladder off of himself. TWO! The Psychotic Hero climbs on the apron and rolls inside the ring. THREE! Luchador flies and crashes into Doom, knocking him off of Mike Van Siclen. And then Bob Loblaw stands up and signals for the bell. DING! DING! DING! "Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of the match and still Hardcore champion, the Straight-Bread Sensation, JJJIIIIIMMEEEEE THE DOOOOOM!" Funyon bellows. "And Doom retains after a somewhat short, but violent match," Mak says. "Yeah, I really wouldn't want to be Mike Van Siclen right about now. Well, I never want to be him, he's kind of lame, but especially not now. And it's not really the whole 'his stomach is all cut up' thing, but it's the 'he just lost to Jimmy the Doom again' thing," King says. Boots Randolph's "Yakety Sax" plays as Doom grabs his belt and heads back up the ramp with Lois the Unethical. And then Ground Zero fades to something far more entertaining, probably, like, a promo package for anything else.

Back to the Gund, where thousands of IGNWF fans fill the stands, as the cameras cut to Mak Francis and Suicide King at the booth… “Back to SWF/IGNWF Ground Zero, where the impressive newcomer Nemesis is set to face crafty veteran MANSON in a hardcore war! Hey, King, remember when, in the IGNWF, more specifically the IGNJL, MANSON debuted as Tommy Gunn?” “He is going to have your head, Mak. Regardless, Nemesis is terrifying, but he’s no MANSON.” “You saw how he destroyed Ced, obliterating him with no remorse or regard for anyone in his path, and with William Attenborough at the helm, no one is safe.” “The Professor has his own set of issues. But Nemesis’ inability to think for himself much less when in the thick of a match will cost him greatly. He can only react so quick to Attenborough’s commands through the Tome of the Gods… Wait, do you know how unrealistic this all sounds?” “Who says kayfabe is dead?” “Anyway, MANSON will win as long as he stays a step ahead of Attenborough.” “Definitely, but not as long as Nemesis manages to get his hands on him.” The buzz of the crowd drops to a hush, as the arena goes dark. A pair of echoes sweep over the audience, bringing the lights up slightly and illuminating the arena with each one. The fans rise to their feet and thick anticipation builds… Then, a guttural howl kicks “Scientific Remote Viewing” by Cephalic Carnage into full gear, as the lights flare up and seizure-inducing strobes rapidly flash and pulse in an attempt to keep with the music. To the jeers of the crowd, MANSON throws aside the curtain and enters the arena, the hood of his black robe obscuring his disgusted sneer as he pauses at the head of the ramp and looks over the sea of humanity, before heading down to the ring. “Ladies and Gentlemen,” booms Funyon, “the following is a hardcore singles match, scheduled for one-fall! Introducing first, hailing from Denver, Colorado, weighing in tonight at two hundred and thirty pounds and standing six feet, one inches tall! THE RRRRAAAAGING BULL… MMMAAANNNNSOOONNNNNN!!” He undoes his belt, letting his robe hang open, as he heads up the ring steps. Through the ropes MANSON enters, immediately heading to his corner, ascending the turnbuckles and flicking off his hood. He then throws up the horns to the continuing boos of the fans and after taking a moment to bask in the glow of the lights, he hops down. As MANSON removes his robe and lays it over the post, Professor William Attenborough walks out holding the Tome of the Gods. The crowd begins laying into him as he too heads up the steps, but a quick glance from MANSON sends him down off the apron immediately, as he screams at MANSON that he’s now incurred the wrath of his Hand of God. “Of course, this lowlife Professor Attenborough is out first, but he didn’t appear to want to get into the ring with MANSON.” “Naturally. The Professor getting knocked out wouldn’t bode well for Nemesis.” Attenborough summons Nemesis as the lights in the arena drop. Then a low rumbling impact is heard over the speakers and felt by all those in attendance as it vibrates through the entire arena, even shaking the ring. *BOOM!* The entryway then explodes in a sea of green pyro, the aftermath of which Nemesis steps through, breathing a mouthful of smoke as he stares at the ring. “AND HIS OPPONENT, hailing from Mount Olympus, weighing in at FOUR HUNDRED and TEN POUNDS, STANDING SEVEN FEET, FOUR INCHES TALL! THE HAND OF THE GODS… NNNNEEEMMMMESSSSISSSS!‘ The sounds of distant thunder and lightning is heard by all as Nemesis walks to the ring, the only illumination coming from a blacklight that makes Nemesis appear more skeleton than human. The crowd watches in awe as Nemesis steps up onto the apron and over the top rope, as the lights return to normal. He stares MANSON down from across the ring, literally twice the size of his opponent, as Referee Matt Kivell calls for the bell. *DING DING!* “I would say the size and strength advantage goes to Nemesis, King.” “Funny. I would say the awesomeness advantage goes to MANSON. Jerk.” Suddenly, before Attenborough can react, MANSON tugs a chain out of elbowpad and rushes Nemesis. He wraps it around his fist and pummels Nemesis’ masked face with it for all the good it does, which is nil. He undoes the chain, choosing to wrap it around Nemesis’ throat and strangling him with it, then yanking him down to the mat The back of Nemesis’ head bangs off the mat, as MANSON turns him onto his stomach and straddles him, gripping the chain and pulling back as Nemesis struggles. “MANSON with the early attack, managing to take Nemesis down with some wise strategy.” However, Nemesis slowly climbs onto his knees, then his feet. He reaches back, grabbing MANSON by the hair and snapping him down to the mat hard. The chain falls out of hands on impact, as Nemesis pulls him up. Punches to the gut of Nemesis have little effect, as he simply hammers down on MANSON with forearms to the back, beating him back down to the mat. “…but he’s clearly no match for the size of Nemesis, as he’s thrown off and beaten down with little effort.” “I think he’ll come eventually through… but no one said it’d be easy.” On the outside, Attenborough screams at Nemesis to crush his skull, as Nemesis then steps on the head of MANSON and off again, bringing forth a scream of anguish. Nemesis pulls MANSON up from the canvas again, this time holding onto him by his hair and raising his free arm up. He prepares the overhand chop to MANSON, however… *DING!* …a boot strikes his groin, as Nemesis halts for a moment, taking a slight breather, but doesn’t release MANSON. Nemesis raises his hand for another chop, yet MANSON… *DING!* …strikes him once again with a kick as Nemesis goes down to his knees! “I suppose that’s one way to take Nemesis down.” “Conclusive proof that a couple of kicks to the nethers will hurt a two-thousand year old zombie golem thing.” Before Nemesis can no-sell even that, MANSON hits the ropes and comes back, striking Nemesis with a big running knee to the face! He dives down, going for a cover, but Kivell barely gets down for a count before Nemesis presses MANSON nearly out of the ring. He then exits under the ropes, grabbing some jerk by the collar and tossing him out of the way, as he takes a chair and slides back in. “KICKOUT by Nemesis!” “It’s to be expected, sadly.” “And MANSON has a steel chair!” Just as Nemesis sits up and gets to his feet, WHAM, he eats the chair as MANSON hits him square between the eyes! Nemesis doesn’t go down, however, inciting MANSON to bash the chair against his kneecaps! Nemesis still doesn’t fall, as MANSON clips him with the chair from the side! Finally Nemesis falls, as MANSON stands over him with the chair, once more preparing a swing, but Nemesis grips him around the skull with the Claw! He gets to his feet, still holding onto MANSON, as he lifts him off his feet. His unimaginable power quickly gets MANSON up, but he prevents a Claw Slam, as he manages to knee Nemesis in the face! “MANSON kills Nemesis with the chair, but it doesn’t prevent him from nearly getting MANSON up for a Claw Slam!” Nemesis drops MANSON who lands on his feet and rubs his eyes with his forearm, as Attenborough tells Nemesis to go for the chair, which he does… very slowly. It allows MANSON enough time to gather himself, as when Nemesis charges MANSON, he manages to jump up and swing his leg out, getting a boot into the chair and sending it back in Nemesis’ face with a Gamengiri!! “GAMENGIRI TO THE CHAIR AND TO NEMESIS!” “See what I mean? Nemesis can’t keep up!” He drops to a knee as MANSON throws up the horns to the boos of the crowd and bounces off the ropes, charging Nemesis. But before MANSON can lay into him, Nemesis gets his hand up and grips MANSON around the face once again. Attenborough commands Nemesis to take care of things quickly, as with his frightening strength, Nemesis takes a few steps forward and throws MANSON over the ropes, clipping them as he goes by, and out of the ring! He tries in vain to grab on as he drops, but it does no good as he collides with the ground below! “CLAW SLAM! OVER THE TOP!” “More like a Claw Toss, but okay.” “Nevertheless, what an ugly landing!” Laid out, MANSON breathes heavy, as Nemesis heads after him. He lifts MANSON up, then grabs him around the throat and by the midsection, and drops him face first onto the edge of the announce table! MANSON bounces off and seeks escape, attempting to buy time, as he digs underneath the ring. He emerges with another chair, pulling it out, as Nemesis drags him by his legs. MANSON turns onto his back and throws the chair up into Nemesis’ face, merely angering the big man as he goozles MANSON and pulls him up. He rams MANSON back into the announce table, then tosses him back first against the steps, as he cringes. “Nemesis, putting our announce table to good use!” “Jesus, don’t call it like a move, you know, inside the ring. Get him the hell away from here!” With MANSON against the steps, Nemesis grabs the chair and charges, but MANSON drops and sweeps Nemesis’ legs out from under him, forcing him into the steps face first! Nemesis comes up dazed, as MANSON climbs up onto the apron and jumps off onto Nemesis, then takes him over into the jarred steps with a headscissors, again jamming his face into the steps!! “HEADSCISSORS INTO THE STEEL!“ Nemesis slumps over the stairs, as Professor Attenborough attempts to get him to stand. Meanwhile, MANSON grabs the chair, setting it up in front of the steps. Nemesis begins coming to, while MANSON steps onto the chair, awaiting Nemesis. He stands, as MANSON ducks under the near arm and unsteadily lets one leg hang loose behind Nemesis, while wrapping his arm around the chest… “An STO… off the chair, into the steps?!” “Meh, why not?!” “But somehow I get this feeling…” Indeed, that’s what MANSON attempts, as he tries to sweep the leg, but Nemesis is too big, as he takes a big elbow to the temple. He’s nearly knocked off his perch, but because of his hold on Nemesis, it’s prevented. Yet Nemesis has worse in mind, as he swings his arm back over the head of MANSON and LLLAAAAARRRRIAAAAATTOOOOOSSS him over the back of the chair and down to the ground as MANSON lands on the back of his skull in a heap!! “BIG LARIAT! OVER THE BACK OF THE CHAIR, ONTO HIS HEAD!” “Yeesh. He’s gonna be feeling that one…” MANSON lays dazed, trying to regain himself, as Nemesis takes hold and tosses him by his hair over the railing! “We’re spilling out into the crowd, King!” The Raging Bull gets to his feet, attempting to escape the onslaught, as Nemesis follows. He grabs fans by their collars, attempting to throw them in Nemesis’ way and halt his path, but they’re brushed away just as easily. Professor Attenborough and Kivell soon follows the two, as MANSON comes upon path to the concourse blocked by incoming fans and equipment. Nemesis soon catches up, as MANSON quickly heads up the adjacent steps in an attempt to buy time. Again, Nemesis’ huge strides catch up, as he clubs MANSON from behind, knocking him down to his knees. Below, Attenborough sets up a table below the balcony, as he commands Nemesis to throw MANSON down through it. “No! No! This has bad news written all over it!” “I agree. MANSON doesn’t deserve this!” “No one does, not just MANSON.” “No. Only MANSON.” Nemesis pulls MANSON up by his hair and presses him up, as security attempts to clear fans away from the scene on both ends. He takes MANSON over to the rail, but MANSON saves himself, kicking wildly and landing behind the Colossus. Nemesis makes his way around slowly, as MANSON tries to heave him over the railing, but he’s just too heavy as Nemesis eventually beats him away. He tries for the Claw grab, but MANSON ducks. Attenborough SCREAMS his commands from down below, as Nemesis turns and tries to Lariat MANSON over the top… but MANSON ducks and with all his might and the help of momentum… HE BACK BODY DROPS NEMESIS DOWN AND THROUGH THE TABLE! “HOLY SHIT!” “MOTHER OF GOD!” Mak screams, as Nemesis lays unresponsive on the ground. “Words just can’t describe… Brilliant counter, but…” Kivell quickly checks on Nemesis, while MANSON, unsure of what to do, chooses the most direct path, stepping over the railing and looking down at Nemesis from above. He screams at Kivell to get out of the way… AND DROPS THE SAVAGE ELBOW ON THE PRONE NEMESIS! “WHY!?” “He figured it would’ve taken too long going down the stairs? But what adrenaline does to some,” says King, as MANSON writhes and grabs his right shoulder. “Especially someone like MANSON.” MANSON finally manages to calm and throw an arm over Nemesis, as Attenborough implores and begs Nemesis to stand. “ONE!!” “TWO!!!” “THREE!!!!!” *DING DING!* “YOUR WINNER, BY PINFALL… MMMAAAANNNNSOOOONNNNNN!” “IT’S OVER!” shouts Mak, as the medics come rushing in to check on both. “Ugly, but MANSON got it done.” “It only took a fall off a balcony to do it, but it was enough. Nasty.” “What a match! We expected there to be blood, tons of it, but what we got instead was pure punishment. We’ll be back with more, and I can only hope both Nemesis and MANSON are alright” finishes Mak, as Kivell raises MANSON’s left hand and Cephalic Carnage blares over the speakers to take us out.

Backstage at SWF Ground Zero, Ben Hardy stands in front of an interview set-up with microphone in hand. Beside him is MANSON, the hood to his robe down around his shoulders, as he strokes his chin in thought. “Hello, I’m Benjamin Hardy and I’m here with MANSON prior to his match versus Nemesis! MANSON, it’s a tough challenge you’re facing and you’ve remained quiet as of late, so I want to ask about your thoughts going into tonight.” “Frankly, I’m not too worried,” he says as he looks up, smirking and gripping the belt to his robe. “But this Nemesis is a monster, seven foot four, four hundred and ten pounds…” “I know the stats, I’ve looked at the tapes... Next.” “You DID see what he did to Ced Ordonez, right?!” “Let’s make something clear, Ben. I’m NOT an ordinary man. I’ve toppled giants three times my size. I’ve ascended peaks, spilled the blood of thousands and set their dismembered heads on pikes, no army I’ve ever faced has ever, EVER, FUCKING EVER done to me what I intend to do to Nemesis singlehandedly. What makes you think I’m scared?! What makes you think I’m frightened?! Ben, I am better on my worst day than Nemesis on his best!” “Really.” “Everyone knows that I have never backed down, especially not to anyone like him! In fact, just look at me…” he says, as he balls up his fists and holds out his arms in front of his body. “Uh… okay…” “Brother… running through these arms, these veins, INTO MY BLACK FUCKING HEART and and into the rest of my body is power! This is what Nemesis claims to have… the power of the gods, but there can be only one true power, man, and that’s me! MANSON is the only might that matters, a light shining brightly on everyone’s dim world, making their life just a little better… they should all feel blessed that I’m here performing tonight…” “…of course.” “Everything I’ve been, every face I’ve worn, above all else, I’m the true hand of god! The power I have… is MY BURDEN and my burden alone, man! I carry the weight of the world, shouldering their suffering and their sins for them! And Nemesis is a threat to all of MANSONosity by claiming what he isn’t, he intends to take what’s mine and if he takes what’s MINE, he takes what’s YOURS!! But I assure that tonight, with that power flowing through me, I’ll take him… that colossus, the roadblock standing between me and greatness, just as I’ve done before… and throw him straight into oblivion!!” “You know, some like Professor Attenborough would call that heretical or a case of hubris…” “I know that… great minds are always doubted when they first make themselves known, but Ben, just… trust me…” says MANSON with a crooked smile, as he reaches back and pulls his hood over his head, preparing to walk out of frame, “it’s not hubris if it’s true.” “That was… something, alright,” says Mak, as MANSON exits. “Jesus, I think he’s really lost it.”

“Hello everyone, I’m Mak Francis, alongside the Suicide King and welcome to SWF Ground Zero, here, LIVE, in what would be the sold out Quicken Loans Arena,” Mak Francis begins over the fading WAR PIGS, a quizzical look beginning to form on his features. “Err, but isn’t because… well, it’s still the Gund Arena…” “And my doctor wonders why he has to prescribe so much Xanax for me…” King bemoans, holding his head as if he’s having a migraine. “I finally thought this travesty of a Fictional World Tour was over, but having seen a Tom Flesher that is straight-edge and Stubby Potts McWeed of all people, I’ve learned to just give up hope on it ever ending.” “Don’t have a Paranoid Freak-out, Applewhite.” Mak says with a smirk. “Peters says this is the last stop so I believe him.” “Hardy-har-har, Francis.” King says, rolling his eyes. “If this thing isn’t over I’ll give you a Paranoid Freak-out, but I don’t really know if it’ll hurt, since it could be a kick to the balls for all we know… though we all know how well that’ll go over with you.” Mak’s previous grin turns to a scowl at the jibe, but he remains professional and gets back to introducing the Pay-per-view. “Right, the first match on tonight’s card is very interesting considering its participants. One of which is Ced Ordonez, who received one hell of a beatdown on Smarkdown, but is out here to show the fans that he’s no pushover.” “And the other is a guy we barely know more about than the Paranoid Freak-out.” “That’s a very true statement, King.” Mak says. “For such a publicized entrance into our fed, ‘The Beast’ Gabriel Drake is something of an unknown quantity. Most of what we know—other than Joe Peter’s signed him a few weeks ago—are the hard facts… at six feet four inches, two hundred fifty-eight pounds; this guy’s a true Heavyweight and supposed to have the goods. Now, after all the hype we’ll finally get to see if he’ll live up to it.” “NIGHT OF FIRE!” “And here’s someone who we know brings the goods!” Mak shouts as the Cleveland crowd, some of whom have just filed into their seats, stand and cheer loudly for Ced Ordonez as the lights fade darkening the arena somewhat for the capacity crowd. The audience only has to wait for a second as… "FIRE!” …Out of nowhere pillars of fire explode across the stage and radiate for a brief second before disappearing back where they came from. Just as soon as they leave, the crowd gets its first view of the Bemani Cross Wizard, Ced Ordonez. Ced hops about the entrance ramp in time with Niko’s high energy song, waving his hands in an upwards motion to build up the already excited audience. The crowd begins to increase their volume as Ced stomps towards the other side of the stage, repeating the process. “As noted earlier,” King starts, “Ced Ordonez got the crap kicked out of him by the debuting Nemesis, who’s probably gonna’ kick the crap out of Manson after this match is over.” After getting the crowd as hype as he possibly can, Ordonez heads to the ring while Funyon does his introduction. “Currently making his way to the ring—from Sacramento, California, and weighing in tonight at two hundred and nine pounds, he is CED ORRRDOOOONEZZZZ!” “Well King, I don’t know about all that,” Mak comments while Ced slides under the bottom ropes and pops to his feet. “But Ced is here to prove that one lost doesn’t tarnish what I’d consider a solid workmen-like career.” Ordonez hits the turnbuckle to a generous wave of camera flashes and pops back down, doing some basic stretches. Tonight’s ref, Mark Hebner, wanders over, checking him quickly for illegal objects quickly with a wink, since he works with the full-time ref part-time wrestler while the crowd settles. King decides to fill the void. “If Ced’s career is considered solid then mine must be diamond-encrusted.” Mak just lets King’s latest jab go as the crowd waits for the match’s second participant. The dead air hangs as several moments pass creating a feeling of discomfort before an eerie blue light covers the would-be Q arena. The crowd sits on their hands, unsure what to do in the chillingly blue-filled arena as the opening twangs of a guitar echo through the Gund. The slow melody continues and is even amplified by a flash from several bright white strobe lights. The strobe’s persist, building with the song, which can now be identified by the lyrics as Rob Zombie’s “The Devil’s Rejects”. “I am the bad one… Distant and cruel one, I am the dream that, keeps you running down…” And with that ‘The Beast’ makes his way through the curtain, staring out at the audience who has yet to form an opinion of him. Drake, illuminated by a mix of white strobes and the menacing blue hue stands still, letting everyone get a good look. “With distraction… Violent reaction… Scars of my actions, Watch me running out…” “Hell doesn't want them. Hell doesn't need them. Hell doesn't love them.” “Interesting choice of theme…” Mak notes, clearly a little shaken by the song, while Gabriel Drake strolls to ringside, looking out at the crowd with an amused sneer. “Oh, this guy is impressive… he’s definitely here to kick some ass.” King remarks slightly put out by the song as well, while Funyon prepares to speak. “And his opponent, making his SWF debut, from Athens, Georgia, weighing in tonight at two hundred and fifty-eight pounds, he is ‘The Beast’ GABRIEL DRRRRRRRRAAAAAKKKKKKEEEE!” Drake climbs the ring steps and moves onto the apron, wiping his feet before swinging his legs through the ropes. Now inside the ring he stares down Ced, before going to the turnbuckle and just staring out at the crowd. “The Devil's Rejects… Rejects…” “The Devil’s Rejects… Rejects…” Gabe hops down as the song begins to fade, standing in his corner in wait. Hebner checks him quickly, avoiding his eyes as he finishes up and asks for the bell. DING! DING! DING! Ced dances in his corner, moving his feet as he assesses his foe with a gulp. He remembers the beating from last week all to well. And so does the Franchise as he calls the action. “Ced might be a little thrown off his game and we can see he’s banged up, but he’ll knuckle up and take the fight to ya’.” Ordonez does just that, deciding to answer Drake’s signal for a collar and elbow tie-up. They grasp each other, with Gabe easily winning the strength battle pushing Ced backwards with some force, but Ced slides into a side headlock using Gabriel’s own momentum against him to regain control. Ced uses the headlock to his advantage, forcing Gabe to hunch over somewhat while he grinds it in. Gabe begins to reach up to pry Ced’s arms from his head, but Ordonez releases and spins behind him, shooting a back waistlock. Gabe squats and tugs at Ced’s hands, loosening his grip so that he can quickly execute a standing switch. “And so begins the feeling out process.” Mak assesses, while Ced looks for a way out. Finding no quick escape, Ordonez, works on his opponent’s strong grip to break the hold. “Nice standing switch by Gabriel Drake there.” “Drake’s probably looking to impress, so we’ll get to see some good stuff from him if that slug Ordonez doesn’t mess everything up.” “Having been in the ring with Ced, I would say that he’s an above average ring technician and that’s something that has always been understated about him.” Mak responds, as Ced slowly moves turning into ‘the Beast’. “In my opinion the guy can flat out go.” Just as soon as Francis says this Ced quickly arches back in a modified overhead throw, falling into a back bridge for the pin. The fans give him a small cheer, as Ordonez winces in pain, his bridge faltering even as Hebner goes to count… ONE! T… …No! Drake pushes Ced off him and rolls to his belly. “Wow, barely even a one count there.” Mak says, as Ced scampers from the mat onto Drake’s back, after his pin attempt hurriedly latching on a hammerlock to control the bigger man. “I said our notes on Drake were slim, but I did a little digging and found out he is twenty-five years old, completed his training about four or five years ago at the Blue Blood Academy down in Georgia, but has no years of pro experience. How does something like that happen?” “You’re asking me?” King says in wonder, while Ced pins Gabe’s left arm to his back and wrenches upwards. “And how did you find that out?” “It’s called research, King. Some of us actually like to be prepared for work.” Mak adds smugly. “I scouted opponents in the ring and it makes sense to do the same here.” “I guess when you’re always sitting in a chair being a couch potato is a lot easier.” King snipes, getting his announce partner back. “Maybe young Gabriel took a break from the business, but if that last vignette we saw was any indication, I think it might have been something slightly more serious.” Gabe makes his way to his feet, patting his shoulder while searching for a means of escape. After a swipe between his legs to try and pick an ankle, Gabe finally is able to slowly twirl around and behind into his own hammerlock. Ordonez pats his shoulder but his smaller size allows him more freedom and he easily twirls the arm lock back into his control. A scowl across his features now, Gabe tries to reposition himself by walking in a small circle. Ced tries to stay close to Drake, but after finally gaining some separation Gabe performs a forward roll, tumbling away from his opponent to get his arm free from the offending hammerlock. Mak sees the action and calls it. “Another in a string of nice counters; this time out of the hammerlock from Drake, King—who seems to be very technically sound.” “I knew he’d be good the moment I saw him.” Although Ced still has a hold of his arm, Gabe pushes them both into the ropes and shoves him away, causing Ced to release his hold and hit the far ropes. Gabe cuts off the ring and falls to the mat lacing his leg with Ced’s, pulling him down with a drop toe hold. Floating over, Drake lands in a side headlock but he’s a little out of position and Ced feels it. Rolling out from under Gabe, Ced gains wrist control and spins over onto his belly once again twirling Drake’s arm into a hammerlock. Now facing Drake, Ced pushes down pinning the Beast’s arm behind him. “Oh goodie, back where we started!” King whines, while Ced slides his other arm in between Drake’s, trying to secure a keylock. “Can Ced do anything other than a hammerlock?” “Drake riding high and he gets’ the tables turned on him, yet again. That’s a definite sign of ring-rust… and King, it looks like Ced’s got a keylock now… that different enough?” While King harrumphs, ‘The Beast’ uses his size and strength to work his way up to a knee then his feet, breaking the keylock attempt, but Ced won’t give up on the arm so easily. He tries to bar the arm, but Gabe won’t be stopped, standing up to his feet and pushing Ced by the face to the ropes. Once again sent for the ride, Ordonez runs the ropes and rebounds back, directly into a nasty back elbow! Ced lands on the mat and Drake immediately takes off, bouncing off the near ropes and then leaps into the air, dropping an elbow—no, Ced evades by rolling to his side! Ordonez gets to his feet and rushes back into the ropes, getting a full head of steam before swinging his body down for an elbow of his own. Gabe sees it coming and rolls, but Ced gets it anyway his whole upper body striking ‘the Beast’! YEEEAAAAHHHH! The crowd having sat on their hands for most of the match let out a cheer for Ordonez, proud of his performance. As Ced slides to a knee, Gabe continues his roll exiting the ring with a disgusted look on his face. Hebner reaches over the ropes to give a warning, but Drake just waves him off and rakes a hand through his hair. “Ced got the better of Drake in that exchange and he doesn’t look happy about it!” Mak notes, while the ref decides to start a count out on the seemingly flustered rookie. Ordonez stands and moving past Hebner – who’s just about to start his count – grabbing the ropes as he slingshots himself up and over in a plancha! Gabe sidesteps in time, but the would-be plancha is a fake-out and Ced lands on the apron! Gabe moves back towards Ced and Ordonez scores a back kick staggering Drake. Ced takes a quick look over his shoulder and leaps prepping to springboard off the ropes for a flashy Asai moonsault—no, Gabe reaches up and sweeps his legs mid-air causing Ced to crash and burn face first onto the apron!! “Finally Mak, it’s a wrestler who can actually wrestle. I’m tired of seeing all the flip-foppery in our fed and Gabe’s just doing his part to curb that.” King says, as Ordonez falls to the outside at Gabe’s feet. “I notice he’s Gabe now…” Mak scoffs, as Ced begins to move crawling towards his opponent. “Come on King, Drake swiped Ced’s feet our from under him and made him hit the apron face first. It may be devastating, but how is that wrestling?” ‘ONE!’ ‘TWO!’ Hebner shouts from inside the ring. ‘Come on; get him back in the ring, Drake!’ As King attempts to come up with an explanation, Ced gets up to a knee using Gabe’s body for support. Gabe just continues to loom over him, ignoring the ref and doing nothing to stop Ced’s progress. Ced, the fighter that he is clenches a fist and weakly sends it into Gabe’s stomach, once, twice and now that he’s semi standing Ced swings a right for the face, which Gabe dodges pie-facing Ced as he back-trips him with an STO on the outside!! ‘THREE!’ ‘FOUR!’ “Well that was certainly a wrestling move, Francis!” King says gleefully, as Ordonez starts to move on the thin padding. “I know you noticed his interesting technique.” He adds, when Ced rolls to all fours holding his neck. ‘FI-Damnit, Drake!’ Hebner shouts, while Gabe slides half his body under the ropes, to restart the count. “Yeah, nice pie-face with that STO and it just seems so convenient that it occurred around the ring, not in it…” Mak responds, while Gabe toes Ced in the back of the head. “‘The Beast’ breaks the count and it’s clear to me all he’s looking to do is more damage on the outside. Ordonez is a guy with a history of concussions and after that Nemesis match and those last few moves, who knows how Ced’s head is doing. I think I’m starting to not like this guy, Drake…” ‘ONE!’ “Then that’s all the more reason for me TO like him, Mak!” Hoisting Ced up by his hair, Gabe lines Ced up and then shoulder tackles him into the steel post back first, causing Ordonez to cry out in pain. Some fans begin to boo the assault, but Drake just picks Ced up again and measures him, before ramming him lower-lumbar first into the ring apron! ‘TWO!’ Sliding down, Ced holds his back trying to relieve some of the sting, but Gabe gives him little time, tossing him into the ring. Back inside, Gabe pursues the now crawling Ordonez and yanks him to his feet, slipping around behind and arching backwards in a tight Belly-to-back suplex! Drake covers, Hebner counts… ONE! TWO! TH… …NO! Ced kicks out! But Drake is right back on him with a lateral press from the opposite side! ONE! TWO! THR… …NO! Ced kicks out again! Mak begins to speak, only to get interrupted by King. “-What a Backdrop suplex!” He parrots. “Drake’s a Stud, Mak.” King adds his partners face showing how much he liked King’s lack of couth. “It’s such a joy getting to see him toss Ordonez around and he’s picked up on the fact that his opponent’s having some lower back and ribcage troubles.” Surprised, Mak gives King his due. “Great point, King. I hadn’t really noticed it until now, but Ced was favoring his mid-section since this started. It must have got hurt there when the big man splashed him last week.” Mak includes, as ‘the Beast’ crawls over to Ordonez, grabbing a sleeper from behind. “Drake must have realized it when Ced couldn’t hold the bridge on that early pin.” With the hold secure, Gabe wraps a leg around him rocking Ced to his side so he can slide the other one on as well. With the hold locked in, Gabe leans back and stretches Ced out zapping his energy. “And I also don’t think Drake really believed he’d get the win on those last two covers.” Mak analyses. “It was designed to fatigue Ced, just like this Rear Naked Choke with the hooks in.” On the mat, Ced tries to move around to little avail. Pulling at Drake’s bicep, he attempts to get some space between his neck and his opponents forearm. “I agree with you, as shocking as that is to me personally.” King concurs snidely, as Gabe shouts for the referee to ‘Fuckin’ ask him!’ so Hebner moves in and checks on Ced’s arm, which is reaching out towards the crowd. “Gabe’s using this sleeper with body-scissors to wear Ordonez down after he’s been wearing him out on the outside. Plus, the added benefit of catching a breather from kicking his ass.” Checking his hand, Hebner backs away as Ced directs the point of his elbow into the Drake’s leg. The crowd begins to cotton on cheering, clapping and stomping as he raises it once more and then drives down, again and again… and again… breaking the body-scissors! “Ced’s starting to break free and here we go…” Francis says, as now able to move, Ced forces them both’ to their feet and lands a few more elbows to sever it completely. Rushing to the far ropes, Ced flies back and ducks under a clothesline. Gabe steps forward after missing the attack and catches Ced by surprise, lifting him up on his shoulder, before turning and dropping him across the top rope!! Mak makes the call, as Ordonez’s head snaps back and he ricochets to the canvas. “Some people call that a Stungun and for all I know, Gabriel Drake may call it something else, but either way that Hotshot-like maneuver did its job!” Ced, struggling to breath, tries to get up and fight. Meanwhile Gabe takes off for the ropes below them and sprints back, just as Ced, still hunched over, makes it to his feet- CRACK! -and gets a running knee-lift to the chin!! Ordonez stumbles, miraculously staying on his feet, as Gabe strikes off for the ropes again, gaining extra momentum before- WHAAAAAAM! -pulverizing Ced with a huge Lariat!! Ced flops to his belly getting knock ass over elbow for the second time in as many weeks! Gabe doesn’t hesitate at all, hopping back to the near ropes and rebounding back with a knee drop to the back of Ced’s head, rolling through to a crouch! Drake shoots a half hooking the leg, Hebner counts… ONE! TWO! THRE… …NO! Ordonez gets a shoulder up! “What a combination.” King squeals, as ‘the Beast’ readjusts his kneepad. “He’s a different breed of wrestler from the cruisers we see all the time here. He’s powerful—agile when it counts, but most importantly he just looks like a superstar.” “What a combination, indeed.” Mak reaffirms, while Ced edges towards the closest corner, but for different reasons. “After that Stungun, Drake landed a Million dollar knee-lift, Shotgun Lariat and knee drop all in succession. Impressive stuff.” “And he looked like a superstar doing it.” King says again, as Ced pulls himself up in the corner. Drake, now to his feet also, moves over to Ced and lands a kick to his mid-section. Grabbing the ropes for support, he proceeds to stomp a mud-hole and once Ced is down, choke him with his boot! ‘ONE!’ ‘TWO!’ ‘THREE!’ ‘FOUR—Break it, Drake!’ Hebner yells, causing Drake to do just that with a smirk. ‘The Beast’ walks Ced to the center of the ropes by the arm and propels him forward with an Irish whip. Gabe lowers his head for a backdrop and the rookie mistake is immediately spotted by Ced even in his current state. Stopping on a dime, Ordonez rears back and kicks Drake right in the face! Stunned, Drake is wide open as Ced clenches a fist- BAM! -and lands a punch to the side of Drake’s head! But Gabe answers back- WHAM! -nailing Ced in the jaw with a side-arm punch! The two now stand center ring, trading right-hands back and forth!! BAM! WHAM! BAM! WHAM! BAM! WHAM! “Does Ced really think he can win this fist fight?” …King comment looms in the air as Drake is ready to block the next punch, having gotten his timing, but Ced breaks the trend and with an impressive vertical leap, snaps off a standing huracanrana!! Ordonez stands, cradling his ribs briefly, as Gabe rushes back to his feet a little bit off kilter and Ced takes advantage kicking at his left hamstring, once, twice, three times bringing him down to a knee before- CRACK! -landing a sick roundhouse right in Drake’s ear-hole!! As Gabe falls, Ced takes off for the ropes, bouncing back and jumping high, crashing into his body with a senton!! Ordonez sits up with a grimace, but quickly flips over and falls into a lateral press, as Hebner counts… ONE! TW… …NO! Drake forcefully shoves Ced off him! “Ced getting some good offense, especially that huracanrana, but Drake kicks out at one!” Mak mentions, as Ced stands up quickly realizing that if he lets Gabe up it could mean trouble. Ordonez smacks some forearm blows on the back of the rising Drake, then grabs him by the head and fires a forearm to his face! ‘The Beast’ answers back by shoving Ced, head over heels to the mat – but Ced bounces right back up to his feet. Drake stomps forward, clearly pissed and ready to hurt someone, but that gets interrupted by a low dropkick! “Dropkick to the knee by Ced helps him keep control and now he lifts Drake back up for an Irish whip—no reversal!” The Franchise calls. “Ced runs the ropes, ducking a back elbow and…” Mak pauses, as Ced leaps onto the middle rope and springboards back with an elbow to the mush!! “Whoa, what a springboard back elbow!” “It was OK…” King begrudgingly admits and Ced, while checking his mid-section, sits up looking around for his fallen opponent before crawling into a cover, trapping the near leg and hooking the far one while Hebner counts… ONE! TWO… …NO! Drake thrusts Ordonez off him again! “Ced, continuing to string some solid offense together, but he still can’t get longer than a one count off Drake.” Ced runs a hand through his hair and stands, trying to come up with something to put a dent in ‘the Beast’s’ armor. “That’s because he doesn’t have anything in his arsenal that can really hurt Drake!” “Untrue, King.” Mak responds, as Ced grabs Gabe by the head again. “We both know Drake’s rusty and if Ced can get him down long enough to hit his Fire Soul—a devastating Corkscrew Swanton Bomb, that could definitely get it done! Or after a little bit of legwork he could tie him up in the Nagata lock for a submission.” With a hunched over Drake in his control, Ced grabs a tuft of hair and goes to work- CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! -lighting up his face by force feeding Drake his white boot six times as they twirl in a slow circle of pain!! “Oh, and those Kawada kicks aren’t just for show either!” Mak adds, as Ced goes for one last kick – but ‘the Beast’ catches the foot and blinking in pain rises to his feet. Ced begins to hop trying to keep his balance, as Gabe smirks and wags his finger- CEEEEEERACK! -only to get BLASTED with an Enzuigiri!!! Drake slowly crumples to the canvas, as Ced pushes himself to his hands and knees, scampering into a cover, hooking the far leg so far that he’s back-first on Gabe! “The quick feet and balance inherent in being a Bemani Cross Wizard have paid dividends tonight for Ced.” Mak notes, while the ref counts… ONE! TWO! THRE… …NO! Gabe kicks out, but is missing a lot of the power from his earlier ones. “And finally, Ced gets a near-fall!” Ced sits up and smiles, the pain in his ribs forgotten, having finally wounded ‘the Beast’. Nonplused, Gabe begins moving towards the ropes and lifts himself to his feet with their help, as Ced backs up into the near ropes. Just as Gabe turns and takes a few steps towards center ring, Ced launches himself at Drake in a high kick that sends Gabe tumbling through the cables and to the outside!! YEEAAAAHHHH! “And Ced is a house-a-fire, King!” Mak shouts, as the crowd cheers Ordonez who is waving his hands in the air. Ced, having gotten some of the crowd to its feet, pauses and looks around. “What’s about to happen here?” Mak asks no-one in particular, as Ced rushes back into the ropes against the wishes of his fellow referee… “This is not happening…” King comments, while Ced continues to run, grabbing the top cable briefly, before flinging himself head over heels onto a rising Gabe in a TOPE CON HILO!!! RRRRRAAAAAGGGGHHHHHHHH! And that officially brings the rest of the crowd to its feet!! “Oh, but it is, King!” Mak rebuts, as Hebner leans through the ropes checking both men. In response, Ced sits up protecting his ribs, while Gabe shakes his head on the floor. Ced pushes himself up and walks over to Drake, who is up to a knee and lands a forearm to the face! Picking Drake up, Ced cracks him with a hamstring kick and then, after looking over his shoulder at the steel steps, yanks Gabe ahead – but ‘the Beast’ is far too strong and reverses the whip- CLANG! -sending Ced directly into the STEEL! The audience deflates like an untied balloon, as Ordonez sits tilted over the steps having hit them knees first-stomach second!! Gabe stands, admiring his handiwork, as Ced bangs his hand on the steps in pain… “Now THAT had to hurt!” King’s words tell the tale, as Gabe gets up and upon a warning from the ref about a count, tosses Ced inside the ring. Back in, Ordonez is easy picking for ‘the Beast’ as he tries to gain a vertical base. Using the ropes, Ced is able to make it up, but Gabe kicks out his left leg sending him back to the mat! Placing his leg on the bottom rope, Drake keeps it in place with his foot and bouncing on the ropes, drops back down crushing it! Ced reaches for his leg, but Gabe dragging him center ring, extends Ced’s leg and placing his foot on Ced’s gut for balance, flying overtop trying to hyperextend his hamstring! Gabe repeats the process one more time and then slowly stands to his feet. BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! “It seems that the crowd has finally made a decision on Gabriel Drake and the consensus is… they hate his guts!” Mak says, as after a loud reaction from the crowd, Gabe stands and poses. “Look at him—he’s taunting the crowd now!” “So?” King asks, as Gabe points out a fan telling him to ‘shut his fuckin’ mouth’. “He’s cocky, which is always a good thing in this business.” “He’s a smug, overconfident, son-of-a-bitch, period.” “You’re one to talk, mister Franchise…” King says from his high horse, adding air-quotes. “It’s called gamesmanship… and you did it all the time too!” “I could say the same for you, Brian!” Mak hisses, a dig at the Suicide King moniker. “But at least I paid my dues in the amateurs and won some SWF matches before I started acting like I was unjustly or not—pardon my French—the shit, unlike this guy!” Mak continues, lucky he’s on PPV tonight. “Oh and I didn’t make-up my nickname, Applewhite, I earned it in the amateurs unlike some people I know!” “Jeez, don’t pop a wheelie, Francis…” King mutters, as Drake drags Ordonez back to the ropes and sets up Ced’s leg again. “Maybe we should see Stubby about some medicinal marijuana to calm you down.” Drake bounces on the ropes and jumps again – but this time nobody’s home, as Ced moves his leg off the ropes! The audience cheers, as Gabe holds his tailbone in pain! Mak gives up his argument with King due to the sudden reversal of fortunes. “Come on, Ced!” Mak yells, while Ced attempts to regroup, using the ropes to get to his feet. “Gabriel Drake making a mistake after getting too cocky and it bit him in the ass!” YEEEEEAAAAAAHHHHHH! Ced makes his feet, just as Drake turns around and he stumbles from the ropes right into a punch! ‘The Beast’ responds in kind with his side-arm punches… BAM! WHAM! BAM! WHAM! BAM! WHAM! BAM! WHAM! BAM! WHAM! BAM! WHAM! …WHIFF! The riled up crowd groans as Ced swings over the ducking Drake, who laces his arms behind Ced for another backdrop suplex—no, Ordonez latches his legs around Gabe’s and in a show of grit and determination rolls forward dragging Drake down in a cross kneelock! TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP! The chant starts instantaneously, but with Ced’s forward roll the ropes are possibly within reach for Drake!! Dragging Ced’s weight with him, Gabe pulls himself closer to escape as Hebner asks if he wants to submit… TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP! The chants get loud the closer he gets to the bottom cable… his fingers graze the rope, as Ced torques his leg hoping for the win, but with one last tug Gabe gets in the ropes!! BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Ced releases immediately, rolling away as Hebner asks for the break. As Ced awaits Hebner’s word, Gabe starts getting up to his feet and upon a clap from the referee, Ordonez hobbles in with a kick to Drake’s leg!! Trying to keep the pressure on, Ced kicks again, getting Gabe to shuffle towards the middle of the ring! Ordonez looks for the knockdown kick, swinging his leg ahead – but Drake catches the limb and this time without hesitation or taunting, wrenches him down to the canvas with a Dragon screw leg-whip!!! “Oh no!” Mak cries out, while Ced holds his leg in agony! “That Dragon screw came at just the right time for Drake. He’s been rusty all match, but this was the perfect time to come up big.” “Oh yes, no enzuigiri this time, Ordonez!” King says, as Gabe pushes himself back to his feet and readjusts his kneepads. On the mat, Ced brings his leg close to his body, as Drake stands tall accepting the ‘boos’. Walking over to Ordonez, ‘the Beast’ steps on his head to King’s pleasure and then toes him over so that he can choke him!! “Whoa-boy, Gabe’s got a mean streak in him!” ‘ONE!’ ‘TWO!’ ‘THREE!’ ‘FOUR!’ Finally, Gabe breaks right at five, Hebner having to physically move in between him! Hebner gets in Drake’s face about his stretching the rules, so Gabe pushes him away! Hebner doesn’t take to kindly to that, pointing to the SWF logo on his referee shirt. “You should DQ him, Hebner!” “Says the guy that broke almost as many rules in his SWF career as me.” As the announcers argue, Ced makes it to his knees and struggles to push himself up, so Drake begs off the ref and marches around him, bouncing off the ropes and implanting his boot into Ced’s face with a high kick!! Ced blinks on the mat then reaches out towards his opponent, trying to get back up. Gabe obliges him, grabbing Ced by the hair and hauling him up in a front facelock before lifting him over in a suplex! After landing, Ced’s hand gravitates between his back and leg, before he begins to favor his ribs. Turning to his belly to avoid a pin, Ced inches on the canvas towards the ropes. Stepping on Ced’s ankle as he tries to crawl away, Drake toes him in the face and then backs up and punts him in the ribcage! “Well, it’s more of the same from Gabriel Drake.” Mak says, shaking his head while ‘the Beast’ hits another kick. “He’s really been taking it to Ced except for a few comebacks here and there.” “Any comeback Ced makes is superficial in the grand scheme of things, Francis, because he won’t win this match!” Bringing Ced to his feet, Gabe backs him up in the ropes and sends him away. Measuring for punch, Gabe stands ready as Ced comes back—no, Ordonez slides between Gabe’s legs! Surprised, Gabe turns and gets a boot to the gut, stunning him! Ced, pushing through the pain in his leg and ribs, bends and hoists all 258lbs of Drake into a fireman’s carry and then taking a step forward somersaults in a Regal Roll!!! “Ced just keeps on fighting!” Mak announces, while Ced limps over to the corner. “And—hey, he might just have a shot to end this! Come on, Ced! Climb up top!” “He’s taking too much time…” Ordonez slides through the ropes and slowly goes up top; carefully attempting to get his balance for the Fire Soul – but Gabe suddenly jumps into the picture with a punch to the gut, so that he lands crotch-first in the corner!! Gabe lines up Ced and- SMACK! WHOOOOOOOOOO! SMACK! WHOOOOOOOOOO! SMACK! WHOOOOOOOOOO! -absolutely PLASTERS Ced with three knife-edge chops!! Chest beat red, Ced is easy pickings as Drake jumps- THWACK! OOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHH! -and pretty much DEMOLISHES Ordonez with a leaping palm strike!! The audience even substitutes a shocked sound for the commonly used chant! Hopping up onto the second rope, Gabe hooks Ced and then, throws his arm off, wagging his finger as he goes all the way up to the top rope… “This is gonna’ hurt…” Mak winces, sure of his words as Gabe picks Ced up to his feet and they both now stand on the top rope, before Drake leverages them both up and over so that they collide with the canvas in a certified train wreck!!!!! BANG! “A TOP ROPE Superplex, Francis!” King crows, as both men lay in the ring a mass of humanity. “Not just a suplex, or even a superplex, but a TOP ROPE SUPERPLEX!” As Hebner checks on them, Drake slowly moves to his hands and knees, crawling over to Ced. He hooks the leg, Hebner counts… ONE! TWO! THREE! NO! Ced raises a shoulder up! “I honestly have no idea how Ced kicked out of that one.” Mak states, as Drake looks to the ref and claps his hands three times! Standing up, Gabe stares a hole in Hebner for his perceived slow count and then toes the deceased looking Ced. “I’ll tell you how… it was a slow count!” King responds, as Drake picks Ced up by the hair. “Please, don’t get on the ref about that count, King.” Mak adds, while Ordonez struggles to clear his head. “Hebner’s been real consistent tonight and doesn’t need the grief!” ‘The Beast’ grabs Ced by the head and arm, interlocking his hands in an Arm triangle choke... "Drake's got a standing arm trap with a choke. An arm triangle choke for those interested in MMA..." Mak notes King's scoff as Drake pauses and then snaps him down onto his knee!! King wasn't scoffing at that. "Damn, that's something new!" Not finished, he stands back up and pauses, giving the crowd a good view before flinging Ced back in a swinging Complete shot—or would have, had Ced not readjusted his flying body in mid-air and grasping Drake’s wrist, countered with a unbelievable arm-drag!!!! Completely shell-shocked, Gabe rushes the woozy Ced who spins off a second arm-drag!!! Drake sprints forward again raising his leg for another high kick, but Ced seemingly going on instinct this entire time catches the foot and twirls to the mat in a Dragon screw!!! “Ced returning the favor on Drake’s takedown earlier in the match—and the veteran Ordonez is following up, something his opponent didn’t do!” Mak calls, as Ced reaches down securing the left leg and spinning to try and pretzel it into a four!! “Could we be about to see the Cross Lightening?!” RRRAAAAAGGGGHHHHHHHH! The crowd seems to think so... ...but sadly the answer to that is no. A boot to the face and one more to the side of the dome sends Ced falling into the ropes holding his head. Drake pushes himself to his vertical base, as Ced uses the ropes to gain his feet. Ced turns around, just as Gabe dashes ahead lowering his head for a spear… but he eats boot from Ordonez, snapping his head back!! Ced, body tired, doesn’t have it in him for another power move, so he falls back lacing his legs with Drake’s in a small package, as Hebner counts… ONE! TWO! THREE… …NO! Drake breaks his legs free! “Ced getting an inside cradle for two-” Mak starts as popping out, Drake gets up off the canvas only to be drug right back down in a school boy pin, which Hebner counts… ONE! TWO! THREE-AHNOOO! “-And this time with a school boy he almost got the duke! What tenacity shown b-” Mak adds, while Gabe crawls on the mat, trying to stay away from anymore flash pins when a blur of blue dives over the top over him hooking his leg and arm for an Oklahoma roll!!! “OKLAHOMA ROLL! He may have him!” Mak shouts, as Hebner dives across the ring, sliding into position to count… ONE! TWWWOOO! THHRRREEEEEEEE! “THANK GOD!” The crowd can’t believe it, but Gabe Drake pushes a shoulder free!! Ced looks to his fellow ref to confirm and gets a nod and two fingers. Ced makes his way to the nearest corner trying to regroup after being so close to winning. “This is like a bad dream coming to life…” King mumbles, adding to his ‘THANK GOD’ earlier. Ordonez knows he needs to stay on Drake after that series of near-falls, so when he sees Gabe pulling himself up in the opposite corner, Ced digs down and sprints across the ring as fast as a limping man can, jumping into the air for a Stinger Splash—no, nobody home, as ‘the Beast’ evades the assault!! Ced sits propped up in the corner facing out towards the crowd, who try to warn him to look out… …but he can’t do anything except have Gabriel Drake chop-block his already injured knee!!! “Never mind, it’s a dream come true!” King says quickly, as clutching his leg like a small baby, Ced falls back to the mat in anguish. Walking over to Ced, Gabe picks him up by the hair and points a finger in his face, saying something before whipping him towards the corner HARD… THUNK! …the worst part of it being Ced’s knee buckling causing him to spiral under the turnbuckles and into the STEEL POST back-first! “Oh man, that wasn’t pretty…” Is all Mak can say as Ordonez sits against the post bent around it like a bow!! Pulling Ced away from the corner and into center ring, Gabe once again lifts Ordonez by the hair and double underhooking his arms, arches back in a nasty suplex!! Ced rolls on the canvas in pain, after the huge throw, but Drake pays this no mind picking him up again… “Excuse my language folks, but this is bullshit!” Mak spits out, lucky he’s on PPV for the second time tonight. “Ced’s hurt. His ribs are busted up, his knee has been put through the ringer, but apparently that’s not enough! Drake probably could have got a pin on that, but he’s not even trying for them anymore!” “He’s been trying alright… to not only embarrass, but really brutalize Ordonez all night. And since that last flurry of pin-fall attempts he's making sure he won't get lucky. That and he's a mean S.O.B! Personally, I’m glad he’s putting the guy back in his place!” King is correct in his assessment, as Gabe pushes Ced into the corner; probably hoping his knee will buckle again as he whips him towards the turnbuckles this time following him in. But Ordonez musters some more of his reverses and hops onto the second buckle halting his momentum, before springing back in a cross-body… which Gabe catches!! Not even stumbling under the weight of Ordonez, ‘the Beast’ brings him center ring and drops him in a rib-breaker, once, twice, but on the third one Gabe walks Ced over to the ropes and tosses him overhead like a rag doll to the outside!!!!! “UNBELIEVABLE!” Mak screams, as Drake turns to see his handiwork and spins right into a jumping kick to the FACE!!! “Ced holds on and gets a Gamengiri!!” Gabe falls back to the mat, holding his face, while Ced looks around from his position crumpled on the apron, trying to will up the energy to get on the top rope!! The crowd cottons on and lets loose a huge cheer, while Ced shuffles from the apron, up the turnbuckles one at a time… “Come on, Ced! GET UP THERE!” Mak says, but Ced doesn’t have the energy to hit the Fire Soul, so he stands and jumps off landing a TOP ROPE Double stomp!!! Collapsing forward to the canvas, his leg burns along with his ribs. He’s too far away to just fall back into a pin so Ced pulls himself backward and lays back into a cover, Hebner sliding across and even out half out of the ring to count… ONE! TWWWOOOOOO! THHHHRRRRRRRREEEEEEEE!! “He got him!” Mak screams! “He kicked out!” King shouts! They both look to Hebner, much like Ordonez and everyone in the arena, who is holding two fingers into the air!! “I can’t believe it!” Mak says his head hanging. Ced, shaking his head, rolls out of the ring knowing he has nothing left and knowing Drake hasn’t been going for the pin, he needs an equalizer to stop himself from a fate like Smarkdown. “Ced’s been trying so hard and after all that he couldn’t get the pin.” Mak adds. “He must know that he’s got nothing left in his arsenal that can put Drake away… and he doesn’t think the guy will even take a pin if he gets one considering the way the match has been going! He’s not going to let himself relive the beating Nemesis gave him after fighting so hard to prove he’s nobody’s pushover!” Grabbing a chair Ced holds the object contemplating what he’s about to do, as Gabe slaps himself in the face to clear the cobwebs! “I can’t believe a ref’s thinking about breaking the rules!” “Shut up, King!” Mak spits. “Ced, you wrestled a good match! You don’t have to do this!” Mak says, as he slides under the ropes with the chair as Hebner tries to reason with him. Ced looks at his fellow referee and then the chair, now sure what he’s gonna do. Hebner grabs at the chair, but Ced is quicker and swings at the now standing Gabe DQ be damned- WHOOSH! -who spins and ducks under the blow sensing it coming!! Hefting him up on his shoulders causing the chair to drop harmlessly, Gabe stares out at the crowd… “Drake ducks! Drake’s got him up for a Death Valley-” as he slides Ced from the carry onto his back, cradling his left leg in his arm!! “-what the hell is this?” Mak asks as Drake drops down in a stunner, compacting Ced’s chin like a sledge-hammer crushing a can!!!! Ordonez’s head snaps back and Gabe releases him to fall to the mat, spread eagle. “Well, that was—honestly I don’t know… some kind of a stunner variation.” “It was damn cool whatever it was!” “He almost had him up there like he was giving him a piggyback ride…” Dropping Ced back to the mat, Gabe slowly stands and shakes his head. Oh he’s far from done, tonight. Standing over Ordonez, Gabe lifts him once again and places him into a standing head-scissors. Ced, truly having been knocked loopy by the last move, has no fight left in him as he’s dragged up into the air with Gabe’s hands on his back holding him up only to send him right back down!! BANG! The Powerbomb hits with a dull thud, but Drake hoists against with a deep knee bend, dropping Ced on his battered body in a second Powerbomb!! BANG! Letting Ced crumple to the canvas, Drake steps away and looks out at the crowd who is booing him mercilessly. Pushing some hair out of his cold eyes, ‘the Beast’ stalks back over to Ced, brushing past the ref who is now shouting at him to make a pin. Raising Ced into another standing head-scissors, Gabe whips him up one more time and hands on his back to steady him, Drake walks in a slow circle before falling to his knees and pulverizing Ordonez with a final Spiral Powerbomb!!! BOOM! “God, he doesn’t need to do all this.” “Well, Ced didn’t NEED to try and hit him with a chair, did he Mak!” “That’s true, but I think Ced knew this would happen if he didn’t.” Grabbing the probably knocked-out Ced he lifts his left leg over his own neck and then turns slightly before practically sitting down on his head!!! “Oh my—he’s got him in a Stretch Muffler with a kind of crab and he’s just sitting on it… the pain he must be in—in that Stretch Muffler Crab. That can break a mans leg...” Mak mumbles out as Ordonez screams out in anguish, the throbbing tormenting him as his body begins to shut down from the pain!! His ribs on fire and leg being jarred at an ugly angle, Ced Ordonez looks to be passed out… but Gabe doesn’t release the hold!!! DING! DING! DING! “That’s it! It’s over!” King crows, the crowd upset at that ending for Ced, but Hebner had to do something. “Mercifully.” Mak adds, as Drake drops his opponents leg and Funyon makes the call. “Due to referee’s decisions that Ced Ordonez is no longer able to compete… the winner of this match, by submission, ‘THE BEAST’ GABRIEL DRRRRRRAAAAAAKKKKKKKEEEEEEEE!” BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! “Well, that was quite the introduction for Gabriel Drake, Francis!” King says, as Drake’s hand is raised to the jeers of the crowd, while his theme hits. “He’s got some interesting moves, the stunner variant for one and that—what did you call it, Stretch Muffler Crab was something else! If he put that on someone for too long it could probably break them in half!!” “Yeah,” Mak starts, taking off his shades and looking at Drake as he exits the ring, ‘The Devil’s Rejects’ still playing eerily through the arena. “The Crab and that Piggyback Stunner were impressive.” Mak adds giving the move a name. “He seemed a little rusty, his opponent gave him one hell of a fight, and he made some rookie mistakes, but ‘the Beast’ is a man to be feared. Those vignettes weren’t joking folks… I saw it ground zero and we should all, definitely, fear the beast.” FADE…

It's somewhat short notice, but we ARE heading up to Genesis, and that seems like the best time to have a "Best locations" tour, so I'm getting this up now. I'll get a list of all SWF PPV's up tomorrow - tired and lazy tonight. Just wanted to get this up, and let you talk amongst yourselves. Also, SWF PPV's only. I'm ruling out IGN and SJL PPV's, mainly because there'd be way too many nominees otherwise.

The only children's stories I remember growing up with are Alexander and the Horrible, Terrible, No-Good Very Bad Day, and Why Mosquitos Buzz In People's Ears. I'm sure there were others, but those are the only two I recall.

Never heard of it.

Or we could run the Canadian Tour (or some other tour) up to Genesis, and give people more time to finalize their list and vote.

Not I, said the fox. Not I, said the fly. Has to rhyme, you dork. Either that, or it's Yet Another Reference That Went Over My Head. Probably the latter. I suggest committee because I imagine most here can't (or just won't) read all of these then vote between the day I posted them and the day the AftershoxXxxX card goes up... Decision by committee would just make the whole process easier. That said, I'm entirely open to suggestion here. Would you guys be willing to read all/most of these and send in votes (gotta be secret~!) to me, by Sunday evening? Or do you have other ideas for how to decide?

Promos and hopefully a match to still be edited in. Big developments in the Two Skinny White Guys saga! Our nooblet shows for his first match, and it's a very good showing indeed! Oh happy days are here again! Working on the PPV card as we speak.

... might wanna read that again, Mole.

Honestly, at this point, I'm surprised I can remember my own name, let alone fed history.

An idea - what if we decided in Chat, like the Top 25 Stupidest Moments? Do it by committee and stuff. Who would be up for that?

Preliminary List: Snake Eyes 2002 Apocalypse 2002 Crossfire 2002 Defiance 2002 Thirteenth Hour 2006 Thirteenth Hour 2005 Thirteenth Hour 2004 Thirteenth Hour 2003 From the Fire 2006 From the Fire 2005 From the Fire 2004 From the Fire 2003 Clusterfuck 2006 Clusterfuck 2005 Clusterfuck 2004 Clusterfuck 2003 Ground Zero 2005 - London Ground Zero 2005 - Vegas Ground Zero 2004 Ground Zero 2003 Ground Zero 2002 Battleground 2006 Battleground 2005 Battleground 2004 Battleground 2003 Battleground 2002 Genesis 6 Genesis 5 Genesis 4 Genesis 3 SWF Ramadomination SWF Fight Before Christmas SWF Slay Ride SWF Holds Down Christmas Ashes 2 Ashes 2005 Ashes 2 Ashes 2004 Ashes 2 Ashes 2003 Ashes 2 Ashes 2002

You're not really meant to remember where they were, just which shows were the best. So the shows leading up to Genesis VII will come from the locations of the SWF's best shows ever.

Apparently there isn't much history between Spike and Akira. Whoops.

Apparently some people here don't want to read the promo, so here's the short version of where we are: So it's a timeline on which the SWF technically never existed, because the IGNWF never imploded - they've survived and kept going for the past 4 years.

I did? ... oops.

Three missing promos editedededededededed in.

The last commercial break is out of the way, even if this match goes 45 minutes the fans will get to see every single second of it because it’s time for the main event!! “Ladies and Gentlemen the following match is a four way elimination match with NO time limit and it is for the SWF International Title” Funyon says as he looks as dapper as ever in his khaki shirt & shorts and with his pith helmet at a jaunty angle. “Introducing first from Sendai, Japan “The DIVINEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE WIND” AKIRA KAIBATSU!!!!!! A-KI-RA!! A-KI-RA!! A-KI-RA!! Akira hasn’t even entered the makeshift arena and the crowd is already cheering for the returning Japanese superstar. The crowd rises to their feet as the metal gates open and one of the park Ranger trucks drives down the dirt road to the ringside area. The back of the pick up truck has been modified so that it looks like a miniature ring complete with turnbuckles and ropes. “Protect Ya Neck” plays from the truck’s loudspeaker system as Akira stands on the back, one hand on the ropes while looking around at the fans and the dinosaurs in the distance. “AAAAAAAAAAND introducing participant number two” Funyon starts up as the first truck parks at ringside to let Akira enter the ring “From Hollywood, California here is “HOLLYWOOD” SPIKEEEEEEEEEEE JENKINS!!!” The gate opens again, with another truck entering the enclosure, this time with “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins standing inside the mini ring with his hands raised in the “Straight Edge” X pose as the truck heads to the ring. “Like Bringing A Knife To A Gun Fight… LIKE BRINGING A KNIFE TO A GUN FIGHT!” BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!! “You know I’ve often wondered about this, is Spike the guy bringing the knife or is he the one bringing the gun” Mak muses. “As long as he leaves with the International title I’m sure he doesn’t care what he brings to the fight” King says as he tries his best to just filter out his co-commentator’s inane babbling while watching Spike enter the ring. “Introducing participant number threeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!! Accompanied to the ring by his brother Wayne, this is the “Redneck Superman” BRUCEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE BLANK!!!!” Funyon announces as the gates open once more to allow another truck into the arena. The car drives down the dirt road towards the ring with Bruce standing tall, holding his balance by grabbing the ropes while Wayne staggers back and forth behind him trying his best to stay on his feet. “Finally introducing the fourth and final contestant, the SWF World Cruiserweight champion “IRON” MICHAEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEL CROSS!!” Funyon says before the boos drown him out. The last truck appears but unlike everyone else Cross isn’t standing in the back of the Pick-up but has opted to sit on the top of the cab instead with his feet planted on the hood partially obstructing the driver’s view. The champion sits there, looking down, hood up to cover his facial expression as he’s taken towards the ring, taken towards his golden opportunity. “Can you feel it King? It’s in the air!!” Mak says excitedly as the last of the trucks pulls up to ringside to let the Cruiserweight champion enter the ring. “You mean the smell of Dinosaur dung?” King replies. “Damn it King no!” Mak gets a bit annoyed “it’s opportunity! It’s the chance for one of these guys to rise to the top, to grasp the golden ring and win it all” “Holy Hokey Cliché Machine Batman! Yeah it’s a big night, none of these guys have ever held of this level before but man cut back on the corny will ya?” Once the car comes to a full stop Cross stands up and steps off the hood and onto the ring apron. There he unzips his hoodie shirt and points to his belt while making the “2” sign with his other hand reminding the other three and everyone at home that he will be walking out of here with two belts tonight. After removing his hoodie and handing the belt to a ringside attendant Cross walks down the apron. . . and down the steps to the floor. “What?” Wayne yells something to Bruce but the big man is too slow to react and moments later he finds himself alone in the ring as the bell rings. *DING!*DING!*DING!!* When Bruce turns around and notices that Spike and Akira have quickly left the ring as well he both surprised and pissed off complaining loudly to referee Nick Soapdish. Both Cross and Spike seem to be enjoying the show as Bruce gets more and more flustered over what the referee tells him. “You’re the legal man Bruce!” Soapdish explains “That means you can only leave this ring if you tag out or if you’re eliminated” It’s obvious that Bruce had hoped to just stay on the outside of the ring for as long as possible from the way he’s complaining and annoyed by the antics of the other three participants. His mood doesn’t exactly lighten up as Akira Kaibatsu decides to return to the ring leaving both Cross and Spike out of it for now. And that suits them just fine. “He got outsmarted, Bruce’s well laid plan just got blown apart” Mak says without hiding his Schadenfreude. “How do you know that was his plan? Maybe he plans on eliminating all 3 of them?” King says trying his best to make Bruce look good, as impossible as that is. “Yeah I don’t think so King, I’m sure Bruce would have loved to just wait around out of the ring until one or even two of the others have been eliminated” Akira and Bruce are definitely no strangers to each other, having faced off many times in the past although never for as rich a prize as tonight. For now neither of them seem to be thinking of the gold, instead they are thinking about kicking each other’s asses. Akira takes the first shot as he goes straight for Bruce instead of the usual duck and escape tactics that most Cruiserweights take with Bruce and the surprise element is enough to rattle Bruce. Demonstrating that he’s not lost a step because of the injury Akira comes bouncing off the ropes and strikes Bruce in the chest with a spin kick that has enough force behind it to actually take the big man off his feet early in the contest. A-KI-RA!! A-KI-RA!! A-KI-RA!! “This is such a contrast to last week against Zyon, he’s managed to take the big man down early which is the best way to beat him” Says the King “Bruce got thrown off his game plan, he’s not the kind of guy to quickly formulate a new one, it takes time and Akira is using this time to his advantage” Mak points out. After having faced Bruce so many times the Divine Wind knows that the best tactic is to stay away from Bruce’s hands and arms so that he can’t trap up and then just stick and move, stick and move. A springboard drop kick for instance is a great way to stick and move on Bruce as he demonstrates as he pulls one out of his bag KENTA~! Style YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!! The kick knocks Bruce ass over elbow so that he ends up face down on the canvas in the middle of the ring. Akira turns around and almost tags Michael Cross in on instinct but when he realizes who is in the corner he puts on the brakes and then says something in Japanese to his former tag-team partner, something that seems to piss Cross off no end. When the Divine Wind turns around he notices that Bruce has gotten back to his feet and is heading towards Spike with his hand held out looking for a tag, only Spike doesn’t look like he’s in a big hurry to tag in as he casually strolls down the apron a bit out of Bruce’s reach. “HA! Excellent strategy Spike” it comes from King as he gives Spike his seal of approval. At least Akira is more eager to fight Bruce than Spike as he rushes the big man, leaps up and nails him in the back of the head with a high knee that sends Bruce face first into the turnbuckles. With Bruce down and hurting Spike eagerly tags himself in and begins to climb the ropes. “So when Bruce is in trouble Spike has no problems tagging in?” “That’s a thinking man’s wrestler right there Mak, why use your brawn when you can use your brain?” Spike leaps off the top rope, pulling both legs up under him as he descends on the still bent over Bruce, not extending his legs until they can make contact with the big man’s back in a spectacularly painful way. *BLAM!!* The double stomp drives Bruce into the canvas with Spike Jenkins landing right on top of him. Hollywood grabs Bruce by the shirt and the pulls with all the power he’s got trying to turn Bruce over onto his back but having a hard time with the dead weight. Being an impatient man Spike decides to forgo the pinfall attempt and instead runs at the ropes to build up enough steam for a running boot scrape. BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! Spike can’t help but smirk at the crowd reaction and can’t resist pissing them off even more by giving them the middle finger before tagging in Cross. Spike holds onto Bruce’s legs so that the King of Pain can’t move out of the way as Michael Cross climbs the ropes. The plan works like a charm as Cross lands a flying leg drop right across Bruce’s throat and then goes for a cover as Spike steps through the ropes once more. ONEE!! TWOOO!!! FOOT ON THE ROPES! Spike curses himself that he left Bruce’s legs too close to the rope allowing him to escape elimination. “Iron” Mike doesn’t look too bothered by the save, it’s early in the match and he has plenty of tricks up his sleeve. And a fist upside his head!! Bruce’s right fist finds the spot but it takes more than one punch to stop Michael Cross which is clearly demonstrated when the Cruiserweight champion retaliates with a stomp right to Bruce’s forehead followed by a second and then a third boot to Bruce’s noggin’ “Come on hit something vital instead!” Mak yells out. “You trying to imply that Bruce is stupid?” “No I’m saying it outright” Wayne looks completely distraught by the beating Bruce is taking but is too afraid to get close his brother as Spike is guarding that side of the ring and probably wouldn’t hesitate to attack him. So Wayne keeps his distance, even when Michael drapes his big brother over the middle rope and puts a knee in Bruce’s back to choke the life out of him. ONE!! Nick Soapdish immediately starts to count TWO!! And Michael Cross immediately starts to ignore that same count THREE!! FOUR!! At four Cross finally listens to the referee and breaks the chokehold on the Redneck Superman, then he casually extends his arm and lets Spike Jenkins tag himself back in the match. Spike leaps over the top rope, runs across the ring and then lands with all of his 220 pounds on the back of Bruce Blank as he’s still draped over the middle rope. “Shades of the Big Boss Man!!” “Yeah if you add 150 pounds Mak” Spike turns to Cross with a sadistic grin offering his partner in crime a high five. A offer that Cross responds to in true “Iron” Mike fashion YAKUZA KICK~!! *POW!!* YOU SUCK!! YOU SUCK!! YOU SUCK!! Spike is taken totally by surprise by the underhanded attack and takes the boot square on the draw dropping like a ton of bricks. Cross just shrugs his shoulders like “hey it’s not like I ever liked you” and then steps out on the apron. “You’d think that Spike of all people knew the philosophy of DTA” King says “I doubt he trusted him King, but he probably figured that they were on the same page for now” “From the looks of it they’re not even in the same book” With everyone focusing on what went down between Spike Jenkins and Michael Cross it’s a bit of a surprise when Bruce reaches over and tags in Akira Kaibatsu, it’s even a surprise to Akira who had his side turned to Bruce staring a hole through his former tag-team partner across the ring from him. YEAAAAAAA-KI-RA!! A-KI-RA!! A-KI-RA!! “Bruce just saved his bacon, he would have been on his way to an elimination if the others had kept the attack up.” “Yeah but the other three aren’t really going to get along well are they Mak? Cross and Akira would rather hurt each other than anyone else, Spike doesn’t get along with ANYONE!” King replies. The two former tag-team partners lock up in a collar and elbow tie up, only for Spike to jam a thumb into Akira’s eye giving the Hollywood superstar the instant advantage. A couple of open handed Shotei thrusts to the face drives Akira back in the corner as Spike pushes his advantage with everything he’s got. Spike Jenkins looks at Michael Cross almost as if to tell him to “watch this you bastard” before he takes a running start at Akira, leaping into the air for a Yakuza kick designed to show the Cruiserweight champion how a real Yakuza kick is performed. *BAM!!* But Akira is no longer in the corner so Spike ends up kicking the turnbuckle instead which does Spike more harm than good. Akira swiftly jumps up on the ropes looking to strike quickly only to find himself thrown off balance as Michael Cross shakes the top rope with everything he’s got. The motion of the ropes is enough to throw Akira so much off balance that he leaps down to the canvas again. With Akira’s attention distracted Spike decides to throw caution to the wind and just go for it with a lariat. The Divine Wind must have been paying more attention than Spike thought as he ducks under the Lariat attempt from Spike, he also ducks under the back elbow attempt that Spikes follows up with. As swiftly as his namesake Akira grabs Spike around the head in a 3/4 headlock and then runs up the turnbuckles before Spike has a chance to catch on to what’s going on *BAM!!* “DIVINE WIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIND!!” Mak yells out as Akira drives the back of Spike’s head into the canvas. Referee Nick Soapdish doesn’t count though, instead he informs Akira that he’s no longer the legal man in the ring, something that both baffles and confuses the man from the Orient. +=+=+=+=+=+ Instant replay +=+=+=+=+=+ Akira runs up the turnbuckles as he begins to execute the Divine Wind, he is so into what he’s doing that he doesn’t even notice that Bruce slaps him on the boot right before he flips over Spike’s head and drops him to the canvas. +=+=+=+=+=+ End Instant replay +=+=+=+=+=+ “HA! HA! Akira is not the legal man in the ring, he doesn’t want to cheat now does he?” King says as Akira starts to argue in Japanese with both the referee and Bruce who’s dismissing Akira. “This is just descending into chaos!” Mak complains as Michael Cross decides to join in as well, stepping through the ropes behind Soapdish’s back. The crowd boos madly as Michael Cross picks up Spike and then locks on a standing Dragon Sleeper to his helpless opponent. Nick Soapdish is too busy with trying to keep Akira and Blank separated and fails to notice Cross lifting Jenkins up in the air before twisting him into a cutter move *BLAM!!* “SILENT RAAAAAAAAAAGE SYNDROMEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!” King yells out mocking Mak’s earlier excitement over Akira’s finisher. “I hate you” The impact doesn’t go unnoticed by Soapdish who turns around and starts to yell at Cross about the number of rules he’s breaking right now. The Cruiserweight champion seems totally unaffected by it though and just smirks as he heads back to his corner. The smirk is wiped off his face 2 seconds later as Kaibatsu breaks away from the argument with Bruce, races across the ring and then knocks both himself and Michael Cross over the top rope and to the floor with a super stiff clothesline. YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!! Bruce mutters something along the lines of “about time” before he grabs the unconscious Spike by the hair. After having suffered both the Divine Wind and the Silent Rage Syndrome Spike isn’t even able to stand on his feet on his own. Half the crowd is distracted with Akira and Cross fighting on the floor but Bruce soon draws their attention back to him as he picks up Spike Jenkins and places him over his shoulder. “Oh no” Mak utters as Bruce gets ready for the running Tombstone “Maybe that’ll teach him to not steal someone’s finisher” King says curtly as Bruce runs across the ring, leaps forward and then drives the top of Spike’s skull into the canvas *CRACK!!* The cover at this point is merely a formality but Bruce covers his opponent none the less making sure that he puts an elbow in Spike’s face in the process ONEE!! TWOOO!!! THREEEEE!!!! “Ladies and Gentlemen Spike Jenkins has been eliminated!” Funyon announces signalling the end of Hollywood’s golden dreams. Neither Cross nor Kaibatsu seem to have noticed that they’re now a man short as the two of them are embroiled in a war on the floor, exchanging right hands while rolling around on the floor engaged in a brawl that’s more at home in a bar late at night than in a wrestling match. Bruce doesn’t seem to care that the two of them are tearing each other apart outside the ring, he just leans back against the ropes and grins while discussing some sort of strategy with his brother. “We’re down to three and with each moment that passes Bruce becomes the odds on favourite to take it” King says with confidence. “No he doesn’t!! The longer it goes the less likely it is that he’ll have the stamina to last” Mak counters noting Bruce’s mediocre cardio-vascular conditioning. “If these two guys keep beating the snot out of each other he will be! Every moment they fight on the floor is a moment where Bruce can just sit back and watch them beat each other up” King explains since Mak doesn’t seem to get it. Nick Soapdish isn’t sure what to do here, technically either Cross or Kaibatsu should get in the ring and fight Bruce but since he doesn’t know which of them is the legal man he’s not really ready to count them out. Akira back elbows Cross right in the nose and then gets up on the apron, either to enter the ring or to leap at Michael Cross We’ll never know which it was though as Cross still has enough wits about him to close the gap between them and swiftly elbows Akira right in the riceballs. “SON OF A BI. . . “Mak yells out catching himself mid “itch” Akira almost falls off the apron but manages to hold on to the ropes and stays up there. With Akira subdued for the moment Michael Cross slides under the bottom rope into the ring heading straight for Bruce. “Ah well, break time is over” King says with a shrug “It couldn’t last forever I guess” Blank and Cross circle each other like a couple of feral cats about to attack each other. Cross looks ready to fight while Bruce just grins, then reaches backwards and tags the still hurting Akira much to the surprise of both Akira and Michael Cross. Bruce pushes down the top rope and steps over it, leaving the ring while casually whistling and looking quite pleased with himself. Akira on the other hand is still dazed from the nut shot and hasn’t entered the ring yet, a condition that Michael Cross soon rectifies by reaching over the top rope and hooking his opponent’s head with a headlock. “What in the world?” Mak asks as Cross begins to pull Akira into the ring, forcing the Divine Wind over the top rope while still locked in the headlock. “Your guess is as good as mine Mak” King admits. Cross keeps the headlock firmly clamped on as he pulls forward on Akira managing to drag him up over the top rope and into the ring with only his feet holding him up. Soapdish starts a count as Akira’s feet are in the ropes and Cross is technically breaking the hold. Soapdish doesn’t even get to two though before Cross raises both hands in the air to give Akira a clean break *BONK!* And to drop him face first to the canvas from the height of the top rope where he’d held him until now. “Genius!” To add even more injury to injury Cross follows up by dropping an elbow straight to the back of Akira only moments after Akira hit the canvas. The boos that Cross received early in the match more than double in intensity as “Iron” Mike drives his knees into the side of Akira’s head, alternating between left and right as he drives the Divine Wind backwards into a sitting position in the corner. Cross ignores the count at first as he keeps working over Akira’s neck but does break at 4 and takes a few steps back to keep himself from being disqualified. “I thought for a moment he was going to let his anger get the best of him” King says noting that Cross’ intensity is ten fold when he’s in there with Akira instead of either Spike or Bruce. “Oh come on he’s already got plenty of advantages in the ring” Mak complains as Bruce rushes over and grabs Akira by the back of the tights to hold him in place as Cross gets ready to attack his opponent in the corner. “Man you are such a goody two-shoes, I remember there was a time where you’d be breaking rules with the best of them” Cross gets a head of steam and leaps into the corner for a splash. Akira manages to slip out of Bruce’s hold and drop down to the canvas while Michael flies over him, strikes the top turnbuckle with his mid section and knocks Bruce off the apron in the process INTO THE GUARDRAIL!! *CRASH!!* After hitting the turnbuckles Cross drops to his knees holding his gut trying to regain his breath. Behind Cross’ back Akira is dragging himself back to his feet while holding his neck, his now unmasked face a picture of agony and anger. A-KI-RA!! A-KI-RA!! A-KI-RA!! “This kid is amazing King, he’s clearly in pain but he’s not about to let that stop him from getting his hands on Michael Cross, the man that injured him at 13th Hour” Mak says. “Well his hips don’t lie” “No that’s SHAkira King” Mak points out once he realizes what the hell King is on about. Akira’s first offensive move is a knee driven into Michaels’ back, striking the Cruiserweight champion right between the shoulder blades, then Cross is pulled back up by his hair only to be taken off his feet once more by one of the stiffest European uppercuts ever seen from Akira Kaibatsu. From there on the match loses any semblance of a Cruiserweight contest or even a regular wrestling match and turns into a streetfight as Akira leaps onto his opponent without caring that he’s probably hurting his neck in the process as long as he can inflict pain on Michael Cross “It’s hard to believe that these two – WHOA!” King’s train of thought is derailed as Akira lands a sickly stiff punch to Cross’ face, busting his nose. “A lot of bad blood between these two guys, I mean they were like brothers at one point” Mak says as Michael Cross tries to push Akira off by jamming a finger in his eye. “They still look like brothers to me” King adds giving us a disturbing insight into the King’s family life. While Akira and Cross are intent on tearing each other apart Bruce is still on the floor, out cold from hitting the guardrail but no one really seems to pay much attention to that right now. When the two Ex Asian Underground’ers roll into the ropes Soapdish tries to separate them without much success. It’s not until he physically grabs Akira by the legs and drags him off Cross that he gets some sort of order restored in the match For about 3 seconds 3 seconds is exactly the time it takes a bloodied Michael Cross to leap from where he’s crouched towards Akira, elbowing the Divine Wind square in the testicles. An enraged Michael Cross gets back to his feet and then looks around with his hand raised looking to let Bruce do some of the dirty work. “Where is Bruce?” Mak asks not realizing that he’s actually on the floor more or less right in front of them. “Erm Mak, he’s still on the floor – he hasn’t moved since he hit the guardrail” King says. “Soapdish can’t even count him out, he’s not the legal man!” When he realizes that there is no one to tag Cross quickly turns his attention back towards Akira only to eat a boot for his troubles as Akira lays out Michael Cross with a superkick before the Divine Wind drops to his knees once more, clutching his neck in agony. “Hey what the hell?!” Mak says as he notices movement in front of the announcers’ table. Bruce has raised his head and is trying to keep an eye on what’s going on in the ring, then when he hears Mak yell out he quickly lies back down and goes back to pretending to still be out cold. “THAT SON OF A BITCH!” Mak sputters as he realizes that Bruce is playing possum “He just wants these two guys to kill each other and then he can come in and take care of whomever is left.” “You say that like it’s a bad strategy Mak, it’s a GREAT strategy – besides Akira and Cross need to fight this out to get “closure” and all” King says while making quotation marks gestures. “He’s got Cross on the ropes, literally!” Mak quips as Cross uses the ropes to drag himself back to his feet after the super kick. “Déjà vu!” King yells out as Akira runs at Michael Cross looking to clothesline both of them over the top rope once again. Cross is ready for it though, having felt it once he’s prepared for it this time and deftly ducks under the clothesline by falling to the canvas and letting Akira flip over the top rope by himself. The surprise of Cross dropping out of his path causes Akira to hit the ropes at an awkward angle and traps the Divine Wind’s head between the top and the middle rope as he goes over the top and ends up stuck in the ropes. “HOOOOOOOOLY SHIT!” Mak yells out, not knowing how else to describe the dire situation that Akira is in right now. Michael Cross quickly gets to his feet and then starts to argue with the referee, yelling at him and generally trying to do his best to distract him the fact that Akira is stuck in the ropes. He also distract the referee from the fact that Bruce has given up on his “I’m unconscious” charade, gotten up on the apron and is now ADDING to the pressure on Akira’s neck by pushing down on the ropes to make them even tighter. After a moment or two of listening to Cross complain Nick Soapdish catches a glimpse of what Bruce is doing and turns around to admonish him, but he doesn’t have to as Bruce voluntarily releases his hold on the ropes and jumps back to the floor. “See now THAT is a fair man” King says with a grin “Fair? FAIR??” Is all Mak can say in his righteous indignation. “I’m glad we agree” Nick Soapdish rushes over and manages to help Akira slide his head back out of the vice created by the two ring ropes. The Divine Wind sinks down to his knees, leaning on the middle rope as he holds his neck in agony. Suddenly Wayne Blank gets up on the apron and actually takes a swing at Michael Cross, a swing that “Iron” Mike easily ducks and then tries to retaliate. “What the HELL is Wayne’s problem?” Soapdish rushes over to try and separate Cross and the younger Blank brother, even threatening to throw Wayne out of the arena. With the others pre-occupied Bruce has free reign on the floor, a reign he takes full advantage off by pushing the time keeper out of his chair so that Bruce can use it as a weapon. He folds it up and then swings it overhead and brings it down *CRACK!* Right across Akira’s neck and back. BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! Both Wayne and Cross have seen the chairshot while Soapdish turns around just a split second too late to see it. Wayne immediately leaps off the apron and backs away from the ring while grinning from ear to ear like a racoon that just found a tasty garbage can. Michael doesn’t waste any time at all before locking on a front headlock, then he twists it around so that Akira’s head is draped over his shoulder in a neckbreaker position. “This is bad! This is really, really bad” Mak frets “Akira has barely returned from his neck injury at the hands of Michael Cross and now. . . and now” but Mak can’t go on. “And now he’s up shit creek” King finishes having no qualms about the situation. Michael Cross holds on to Akira’s head and then drops to his knees *THUD!* The Cruiserweight champion maintains his hold on Akira’s head causing the Divine Wind to bend over backwards straddling Cross’ shoulder with his neck in a very painful looking position. Cross adds to the pain by pulling down hard on Akira’s chin. After holding his former partner in that position for 15 seconds or so Cross gets back to his feet, fingers still locked around Akira’s jaw and then he bends forward, pulling on Akira LIFTING THE DIVINE WIND OFF THE GROUND BY THE HEAD!! “Yes!! Now that’s smart wrestling by Cross, he knows Akira is hurting, he knows his neck was weak coming into the match and he knows that Bruce just made it worse with a steel chair” Says King as the crowd mercilessly boos the Cruiserweight champion “Oh and look at that bastard!” Mak spits out as Bruce begins to applaud Cross’ actions in the ring. The referee raises Akira’s hand in the air and then releases it, not surprisingly it drops down as Akira appears to be unconscious. Soapdish checks on Akira’s eyes and then quickly calls for the bell without even lifting the arm again. * DING!*DING!*DING!*DING!* When he hears the bell Cross lets go of Akira, allowing the Japanese superstar to drop to the canvas where he flops over and lays there unconscious. “Ladies and gentlemen referee Nick Soapdish has used his discretion and is declaring that Akira Kaibatsu is in no physical condition to continue” Funyon explains to the crowd, an explanation that doesn’t go over very well. BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! Correction it doesn’t go over very well with the crowd but both Cross and Blank seem to be very pleased with the decision, after all it means that there is just one man standing between either of them and the International title. Bruce barely has time to step through the ropes before Iron Mike is on the attack once more, leaping at the big man to take him down and take him down fast. But the best laid plans sometimes backfires, and frankly jumping on Bruce is hardly one of the best laid plans ever devised. Bruce manages to stay upright as he catches Michael Cross in mid air, then the big man drops backwards driving Cross chest and face first into the turnbuckles. “Staggering!” King quips as Michael Cross staggers out from the corner after being thrown into the turnbuckles. “He must really be desperate King, I can count the number of times Bruce has climbed the ropes on one hand” Mak says as Bruce climbs up on the second rope while keeping an eye on Cross. “Yeah and still have fingers left!” Bruce folds his hands over his head and then leaps off the second rope in a very poor imitation of Randy Savage’s double axe handle. . . especially since this one totally misses and Bruce twists his leg on the landing. *BA-SNAP!* The big man immediately collapses on the canvas, clutching his right leg as he screams out in agony from landing on it wrong. Cross holds back a bit, weary of the situation and everything as Nick Soapdish tries to find out exactly how bad Bruce is hurt. Wayne slides his upper body under the bottom rope as he worriedly tries to get his brother to calm down so they can figure out how bad it is. “That’s why he never goes to the top rope, he’s just not built for it and it backfired” Mak says in a solemn sounding voice. “A desperation move that may have cost him the match and the title” Cross looks angry and impatient that the match has been interrupted when he’s so close to winning the International title, so he decides to take matters into his own hands by kicking Wayne out of the ring with a well placed boot to the head before reaching down to grab Bruce by the shirt to drag him into a better position. A flash of hands and legs and Michael Cross is tied up in a small package with Bruce on top of him using all of his arm and leg strength to keep Cross under control. ONEE!!! WHITEEEEEEEEEEE TRASH!! WHITEEEEEEEEEEE TRASH!! TWOOOO!!!! Cross’ legs flail like a madman’s as he tries to break free from Bruce’s vice like grip. THREEEEE!!!!! “HOLY FUCKING SHIT BRUCE STOLE IT!!” King yells out as Nick Soapdish’s hand hits the canvas a split second before a surprised Michael Cross can kick out. Cross kicked out just a second too late and the shock is clearly seen on his face as he sits there on the canvas, mouth open, big eyes looking totally stunned that he was suckered in by Bruce. While Cross is in chock Bruce is on cloud nine, celebrating with his brother who has handed Bruce the International title belt before the announcement is even made. “The survivor of this match and the NINTH SWF INTERNATIONAL CHAMPION” Funyon says and then draws a breath to let it sink in with him as well before making it official “BRUCE BLAAAAAAAAAANK!!” “I don’t believe it, Bruce outsmarted someone?” Mak says still in a state of shock “He’s NOT as stupid as he looks Mak” “No he couldn’t really be now could he?” Michael Cross isn’t ready to accept the outcome of the match just yet, he didn’t come all this way, earn his way into the match and eliminate Akira just to fall short to Bruce. Cross leaps to his feet and then runs straight for Bruce who has his back turned to him. Wayne yells out, alerting his brother to what is coming, allowing him enough of a warning to duck under Michael Cross’ attack and then clothesline the Cruiserweight champion over the top rope unceremoniously dumping him to the floor. The last image on Smarkdown is of the ninth SWF International Champion Bruce Blank holding the belt up high in the air.

The screen goes black, with only two words shown. The Ninth [Deep booming ”NFL Films” Voiceover] SWF Smarkdown: Jurrasic Park: July 24th 2006 ”Aecas had been forced to leave the SWF, cutting his run with the International title short at 43 days. This left the federation without an International Champion for the first time after the belt had been created” “The void had to be filled and filled fast with someone worthy of the belt” “Eight men entered, on Lockdown the number was cut in half as Zyon, Austin Sly, Manson and most significantly former champion Jay Hawke were all eliminated. “Now four men all strive for the title, four men all look to become the next International champion” “Akira Kaibatsu, Bruce Blank, Michael Cross, Spike Jenkins – One of these four will become the next International Champion” “Tonight” #Flashforward# ONEEEEEEEE!! TWOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!! “The winner of the match and NEEEEEEEEEEEEW SWF INTERNATIONAL CHAMPION. . . “Whomever the champion history has proven that winning the title is sometimes easier than keeping the title, for the winner it’s only just begun” Ninth SWF International Champion: “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins?? Bruce Blank?? - “Divine Wind” Akira Kaibatsu?? - “Iron” Michael Cross?? Time will tell...

The Pepsi Max © Tale of the Tape Bruce Blank Age: 32 Height: 6'7" Weight: 295 lbs Years as a Pro: 17 Signature Moves: Gorilla Press, Big Boot Finisher(s): Blank Bomb, Broken Dream Accomplishments: SWF Ultraviolent Champion (213 Days) Last Five: 4 - 1 Akira Kaibatsu Age: 20 Height: 6'0" Weight: 190 lbs Years as a Pro: 2 Signature Moves: It came from Sendai, Senton Bomb Finisher(s): The Divine Wind, Anaconda Vice Accomplishments: SWF Tag-Team Champions (15 Days), SWF Cruiserweight champion (59 days) Last Five: 2 - 3 Michael Cross Age: 22 Height: 6'0" Weight: 228 lbs Years as a Pro: 4 Signature Moves: Avalance Head Trauma, Break the Ice Finisher(s): Iron Cross, Silent Rage Syndrome Accomplishments: Current SWF Cruiserweight champion (43 days), SWF Tag-Team Champions (15 Days) Last Five: 3 – 1 - 1 “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins Age: 24 Height: 6'1" Weight: 220 lbs Years as a Pro: 6 Signature Moves: Lariat, Dangerous Wizard Finisher(s): The Ratings Crash, Endwell Accomplishments: 2 times SWF Tag-Team Champions (19 Days & 21 Days) SWF Hardcore Gamer’s Champion (16 days), 2 times SWF Cruiserweight champion (14 days & 120 days) Last Five: 2 - 3 POWER ADVANTAGE: Bruce Blank LEVERAGE ADVANTAGE: Bruce Blank SPEED ADVANTAGE: Akira Kaibatsu EXPERIENCE ADVANTAGE: Bruce Blank TECHNICAL ADVANTAGE: Spike Jenkins HOT/COLD: Bruce Blank (Hot) OVERALL ADVANTAGE: Bruce Blank