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The crowd is huddled inside the unique, makeshift venue of the one and only Stonehenge and nearly rumbling the stone slabs with their fanatic support. “Know what’s amazing about Stonehenge?” King asks in awe to his partner. “How incredible it is that an ancient civilization had the persistence and capabilities to construct this astonishing monument?” Mak sincerely replies, seeming to take the moment to savor the grandiosity of it like his partner. King stares at him before saying, “No, what are you, the tour guide? No, I was going to say how hideous the general population is.” Mak ignores his partner and continues to say, “This is one packed show and there is certainly one interesting opening match to get us started tonight.” “Between the up-and-coming Danny Dagda and the delusional Chris Raynor,” King says with the obligatory bias. “Well, it will be Danny Dagda and Chris Raynor but this won’t be the standard singles match. No, instead it’s the classic Ironman stipulation but with a little twist, the only way these two can score is by putting the other through a table,” Mak says. “It’s going to be a long, long half-hour for these two.” “Yeah,” King replies in amusement. “Actually, I’m curious just how many tables Raynor can go through before his neck snaps, again,” he maliciously says. “That’s wrong in so many ways,” Mak flatly says before continuing, “I’m more curious to how Raynor’s endurance will be, he tends to rush his opponents to end it quickly and obviously there won’t be an ending until that half hour ends.” “Or until he breaks his neck,” King cheerfully reminds him. “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN… THIS IS YOUR OPENING BOUT TO S! W! F! GROUND ZERO 2007- IT IS SET FOR THIRTY MINUTES AND IS AN IRONMAN MATCH, WITH FALLS ONLY BEING COUNTED WHEN AN OPPONENT IS PUT THROUGH A TABLE…” “Rubber Neck” by Isle of Q hits and the opening drums are accompanied by white strobe lights and the singing begins, cuing Chris Raynor to step out from the back. He stands tall, keeping a poker face, and looks down at his Genesis III shirt, ripping it off before tossing it off to the side. “Introducing, from Baton Rouge, Louisiana weighing in at 250 pounds… CCCHHRRIISSS RRRRAAAYYYYNNNOOOORR!” He begins his walk down the aisle without any flash but simply a stoic face until he reaches the ring, where he grins at two tables already set up opposite of each other at ringside. He steps over to the steel stairs, dismissing the negative crowd, and climbs up, entering the ring through the middle rope, and ignoring Matthew Kivell. He simply stands in the ring, staring at the entrance ramp, ignoring the largely ambivalent crowd, and remains calm until suddenly an unbelievable stuttering drumbeat begins. It’s simply unbelievable because of the familiarity, because of this man’s history with the other, clinging onto the moment where benefit of the doubt is given until- I said hallelujah! Not a seat remains empty nor a voice silent as they instantly hail the potential return of the Crowned Prince of Flash and Panache! To the sixteen loyal fans-ah… Chris Raynor paces in the center of the ring, shooting a look at Kivell and demanding an explanation, only to get a confused shrug in response. “I can’t believe it,” Mak loudly says over the roaring crowd to his partner. “No, seriously, I can’t believe that could possibly be Edwin MacPhisto!” NOW GET DOWN ON YOUR MOTHERFUCKING KNEES… Suddenly the lighting stops and blue sparks begin to rain down on the entrance ramp followed by a gigantic burst of blue pyrotechnics that breaks every fan’s heart one at a time… “Aneurysm” by Nirvana kicks into high gear, confirming Danny Dagda’s arrival at Stonehenge, turning the crowd absolutely venomous. Chris Raynor narrows his eyes before trying to dismiss it with a laugh, almost in relief. “Aneurysm” continues and suddenly an all too familiar voice rings out- “Now, now,” Danny Dagda says as he walks out with a ridiculously large red leather jacket like MacPhisto. “Now what kind of way is that to treat royalty? Yes, the Prince of… No, King, the god damn King of Flash and Panache or whatnot. Oh yes, the Ringmaster of the fruitiest SWF Creation with eccentric interior designing since the Clan attempted their go at a Hair and Nail Salon, oh yes! Give me a day, you toothless or gingivitis ridden or eroding gums, or whatever other variety of dental plagues and all the other British stereotypes that escape me and I’ll be your new King, oh yes!” “When did they try to open a Nail Salon …” King muses out loud before getting slapped on the arm by his partner. “Hell, Dagda could easily rule this country as King!” “King, do you have any clue about British history or the current political system?” “Sure,” King defensively responds, “I know about King Arthur, King Henry the VIII, aaaannnddd yeah, that’s about it.” “Well I don’t have time to lecture. But it’s just amazing how far Danny Dagda will go to get his kicks,” Mak says. “It’s almost admirable in a really, really loathe-inspiring way.” “Or how far he’ll go to get into Raynor’s head,” King corrects. Danny Dagda Yes, that’s right, now get down on your motherfucking knees and please Daddy Dagda.” He pauses to shoot a look at the crowd, boos increasing before clarifying, “Worship me… not… ‘please’ please me, unless you… know… you want to. In that case, young’ns,’ gays, trannies, bisexuals, and braces need not apply but that’s here nor there because I am here, that’s right, Daddy Dagda is in the house, wait, no, this historic monument!” “Spare us the bullshit,” Raynor loudly yells from the ring at Danny Dagda, who looks truly offended by his remark. “Fine, Raynman, fine, you got it. You got it. I just figured, you know, we ought to get acquainted seeing as how we’re going to be stuck together for a whole half hour. But I understand,” he says, lowering the microphone to bask in the jeering, “I truly understand- you just want to cut the foreplay, right? It’s cool; I can see why you wouldn’t want to wait another lingering moment to be graced by Daddy Dagda’s presence!” “Introducing next, from Newark, New Jersey… WEIGHING IN AT 298 POUNDS… DDDAAANNNNYYYY DDDDAAAGGGDDAAA!” Danny Dagda drops the microphone and cockily struts down the aisle, whipping off his MacPhisto-inspired attire and throws it into the crowd, only to have it tossed back at him. He doesn’t pay any attention to the rejection, however, and simply takes his sweet time hitting ringside, leaving Raynor increasingly more impatient. He glances around ringside, seeing two tables set up and lifts up the ring skirt to glance underneath the ring, ensuring the numerous tables that may have to come into play. He finally looks up at Raynor with a wide smile and rolls into the ring, standing up, and approaching the center of the ring. “Chris Raynor is not looking too thrilled with Dagda right now,” Mak says. They stand next to each other and Danny Dagda listens to Kivell explain the rather self-explanatory rules, or lack there of, to the opponents to an uninterested Dagda and a pumped Raynor. Finally Danny looks into Raynor’s eyes and holds out his hand to an understandably reluctant Chris. He insists that his unique entrance was all in good fun and already feels bad, which leads to Raynor slowly reaching his hand out. Danny Dagda pulls it back, acting sly, and runs his hand through his hair before dropping to his knees, lifting an arm up into Raynor’s crotch! DING! DING! DING! He stands back up and quickly takes advantage by whipping him into the ropes before leveling him with a clothesline. However, Chris Raynor instantly recovers and stands up to begin socking it to Dagda with rapid-fire forearms, inciting the crowd to begin to cheer. “Sometimes I wonder if Hitler would go over well if Dagda was having a good day,” King says. “Danny Dagda’s blatant low blow has already backfired, hasn’t it?” Mak asks, shortly believing in karma until Dagda stops his assaulter with an eye rake. Kivell feebly protests and Dagda shoots him a look before stomping hard on Raynor’s foot, kneecap, and finally bitch slapping him across the face. He backs away in a Sugar Ray-like shuffle to avoid Raynor’s angered, wild swings and just laughs in his opponent’s face before leaning in to deliver another bitch slap! He continues to degrade his opponent by circling around him, keeping just out of Raynor’s reach, and leaning into sneak in another slap. Finally he overdoes it and stands still to smile before trying to duck out of the way of a right haymaker but it catches him flush, causing him to reel backwards! Raynor rushes up and forcefully shoves him down to the canvas in order to begin stomping on him, venting out his frustrations. Danny Dagda has to roll out of the ring in order to escape, leaning against the ring apron, and shaking his head in a daze with a chuckle. He slowly climbs back up onto the ring apron and gets rushed by Raynor, who gets a knee through the ropes. Dagda grabs a handful of his hair and leads him to the turnbuckle, smashing his face once, twice, and (why not) thrice before reentering the ring. Danny Dagda backs away from the turnbuckle, letting Raynor lean against it, and he simply motions for him to come after him. The Raynman acts upon the suggestion and rushes forward with an overhand right that Dagda blocks in mid-air, until he gets caught with a front kick to his gut. “Dagda trying to get into Raynor’s head can prove to be a mistake, Chris has proven himself to be an angry individual,” Mak says. “Who rarely kicks, too,” King points out while he watches Dagda get wrenched by a front facelock. He continues to crank at Dagda’s neck until he drops down to the canvas, planting him with the simple yet effective DDT. He gets onto his knees and delivers a bit of embarrassment back at Dagda, slapping him on the back of the head, and pulling him up to the canvas. He knees Danny in the gut, causing him to double over, and wraps an arm around his midsection before flipping him over with a crisp gutwrench suplex. Danny tenaciously rolls back up, however, but gets dropped with a clothesline, yet he bounces back once again. He catches Raynor with an elbow and steps forward to lock in the front facelock, lift him into the air, and cut to the chase with a brainbuster, sparing the usual stalling. He rolls up and tries to tug his opponent up but instead gets slammed in the stomach with two hard blows. He doubles over and Raynor locks in a front headlock, trying to take advantage of it but can’t because Dagda lowers his shoulder a bit more, using his superior power to drive them into the ropes, nearly spilling to the outside! He lets go and Dagda backs away, only to nail Raynor with a kick to his thigh. He clutches at his thigh but grits his teeth and comes back with a nasty forearm smash that causes Danny to temporarily lose his balance, falling onto his ass. Raynor, displaying his occasional nasty streak, charges forward and delivers an echoing cowboy kick to Dagda’s chest. He tries to continue his assault but Dagda clutches onto one of his ankles, tripping him down onto the canvas with him. He begins to rain down mounted elbows onto Raynor but Chris is able to reach up and snatch Dagda with a guillotine choke. He applies more pressure and Danny pulls back, forcing Chris to sit up so he can wrap his arms around him. He stands up, face turning a shade of dark red, and finally slips his head free, tossing Raynor down with a scoop slam, followed by a knee drop right into his face. The Raynman rolls away and back onto his feet to collide with Dagda with a grapple. They fight for position but ultimately Raynor is able to clutch his arm and force it between his own legs, setting up for the Pumphandle Slam! He lifts Dagda into the air, slung over his shoulder, and jogs to the turnbuckle, smacking Dagda against it before turning around 180* to slam him against the canvas. He rolls back up and Dagda tries to catch him with an up kick, undoubtedly aimed at his genitals, that instead slaps his inner thigh. Raynor quickly responds with mudhole stomping that causes Danny Dagda to roll halfway across the ring before being able to stand up. Raynor tries to press on with his assault and rushes forward but Danny lunges forward, wrapping his arms around Chris, and heaving him backwards with an unexpected belly-to-belly suplex. “Dagda just caught him with a beautiful belly-to-belly suplex, I sure as hell hope Raynor isn’t underestimating Dagda,” King says before pausing. “Actually, I guess I do hope is he.” But Raynor forces himself up to his feet quickly, lunging out with a forearm to halt Danny’s advance. He locks in the front facelock and grabs a handful of tights, lifting him into the air but instead of a suplex he drapes Danny’s legs over the top rope. He then carefully turns into a stunner position before dropping down with a neckbreaker that sends the crowd into a chorus of cheers. Danny Dagda seeks refuge on the outside and he rolls out of the ring, landing on all fours on the outside, and hoping to recollect himself. Unfortunately, for Danny Dagda, Chris Raynor exits onto the ring apron and simply drops down, double stomping Dagda! A loud groan of pain is heard and Raynor looks down to see Danny feebly reaching for something to aid him underneath the ring. Raynor, apparently inspired by Dagda’s idea, reaches underneath the ring to pull out a table to a roar of approval. He jabs at Dagda’s downed body with the edge but then slides it into the ring. He yanks Danny up to his feet and grabs his head, smacking it against the ring apron. He slides into the ring, with Dagda a few seconds behind in pursuit, and hustles to the table, setting it up. He turns around gets bombarded with overhand rights from Dagda but easily holds his own, actually blocking two in a row before grabbing Danny, throwing him against the table before laying his own blows. Dagda toughs through majority of the shots, after a little ducking and weaving, and is able to grab a hold of Raynor’s throat. But instead of a chokeslam he just spins away from the table, throwing Raynor against it. He surges forward only to eat a knee from Raynor and also have his head smacked against it. Chris hoists him onto the table but Danny quickly rolls off of it, grabbing Raynor and showcasing his power by yanking him into the air, over the table, and towards him. He runs to the ropes and begins to bounce back as he watches Raynor stand back up. Danny Dagda simply collides with Raynor in his desperation to get him onto the table, causing them to actually spill over to the side where they rush back up. Raynor shoots two quick forearm blows and tries to grab a hold of him but catches nothing but air since Dagda ducks, standing behind him. He clubs him with an arm to the back before grabbing a handful of hair and tights, spinning around, and trying to toss him clear out of the ring, onto the table of the outside. He cockily smiles at the crowd, doing a little dancing spin, and realizes that Raynor found salvation by grabbing onto the top ring rope and now is standing back up. He rushes forward to pound on the Raynman but gets caught with a forearm blow that stuns him. They each begin to rain down overhand rights in hope to keep their position while Dagda begins to get the better of the exchange. Raynor sways on the apron and Danny uses it as a chance to lock in the front facelock. He grabs a handful of Chris’ tights but he gets bombarded with shots to the ribs, causing him to let go of the hold and the tables turn since Chris gets his own front facelock. He begins to lift but Dagda sandbags his weight and once both feet hit the ground he sneaks a knee through the middle rope, freeing him. He locks in the front facelock once again and wastes not time in grabbing his tights, lifting him vertically into the air, and falls back to send him crashing through the table, inciting the boos from the crowd. “After a mad scramble Dagda one-ups Raynor after that exchange! Raynor just went crashing through that table, Dagda wins that duel of suplexes and now he leads one-nothing on Raynor,” Mak says. “WINNER OF THE FIRST FALL AT 8:05… DDDAANNNYYY DDDAAAGGGDDDAAA!” “Raynor must be getting old,” King muses while he watches Raynor feebly try to roll away quickly from Dagda, who pulls up him up to his feet. He stands Raynor upright, watching him sway like a drunk, and simply cocks his arm back to deliver yet another bitch slap that sends him falling back into the broken table. Danny Dagda glances down, enjoying the moment, and begins to kidney kick at Raynor, causing him to roll over in defense one kick at a time until he’s forced to scramble up to his feet. He throws both arms up to his face in defense and absorbs an attempt elbow strike before he swoops down, wrapping his arms around Dagda’s midsection, and lifts him into the air before slamming down with a spinebuster, allowing him to recover on the mat. He inhales deep breaths before following through, kneeling beside Dagda, and begins to rain down punches at Dagda, rapidly increasing before hitting a crescendo, the hallow thuds nearly blending together, but finally slow down to cease. He stands up and gives Dagda a stomp to his gut before retreating back to the ropes in hopes to revive. “Well, I can’t blame him for trying to recover,” Mak says, recalling his own classic Ironman match with Danny Williams. “It’s too grueling and costly if you don’t allow yourself some time to recuperate.” Danny Dagda grunts and gets to all fours, looking up at Raynor who looks equally, if not more, winded at the moment. He decides not to show potential weakness and forces himself to his feet, walking towards his opponent and nonchalantly pushes the table’s remains off to the side. He grins and gingerly touches the corner of his eye, which has began to swell, to just wag a finger with a “tsk tsk” to Raynor. He rushes forward to the seemingly helpless Raynor, arms wrapped around the ring ropes to lean against, and charges like a bull, only to have Raynor side step like a Matador. The crowd ignites into cheers while Dagda nearly flies out of the ring but they are disappointed to see him wrap an arm around the top rope, narrowly avoiding the table on the outside. He stands up on the ring apron to smack Raynor with an elbow to stun him and then smartly whirls around, kicking the table over to foil any easy plan to get him through that table. Raynor grunts and takes a step forward before launching forward with a forearm that sends Dagda off balance, causing him to spill on the outside. He slides out of the ring and grabs the table, setting it back up right, and turns around, only to get caught by a front kick from Dagda. He then launches a set of three leg kicks to Raynor’s inner thigh before trying to grab him in a grapple, only to get shoved away. Raynor dazes him with a hard forearm and stands to his side, glancing backwards at the table behind him, and the crowd begins to cheer once again. He tucks his head underneath Dagda’s arm to reach across the chest to grab hold of his neck before fluently lifting him into the air, turning around 180*, and sending Danny crunching through the table with the Sambo Suplex! The crowd explodes as Danny Dagda smacks against the cement with a thud and a loud, extended groan of pain. “WINNER OF THE SECOND FALL… AT 10:57… CCCCHHHRRRIISSSSS RRRAAAYNNNOOORRR!” “Raynor ties it up within minutes after Dagda gains the upper hand,” Mak gleefully says to King’s disappointment. Chris Raynor looks down at Dagda, who rolls onto his side with a wheeze, and glances around for the next convenient table. He debates reaching underneath the ring but can tell the resilient Dagda may be able to get up quickly enough and finally his eyes lock onto his ex-friend, the Suicide King, at the commentator’s table. He reaches down, picking up Dagda, who lazily flails an arm in resistance, and begins to lead him towards the announcers’ table. He gets an elbow to the ribs from Dagda but he quickly responds by spinning him around, throwing him against the steel steps, which dislodge them. “He’s beginning to get the upper hand on Dagda, now he’s looking for a front facelock,” Mak gives the play-by-play as Raynor does, indeed, lock in the front facelock. He goes for the lift but Dagda grapevines his leg. “Yeah, but that hold’s not worth much if you don’t follow it up with something,” King jaunts while Dagda begins to counter with shots to the ribs. Raynor toughs out the blows from Dagda and seems ready to go for the lift once again but Dagda uses his weight and gravity to his advantage, making it difficult for an easy lift. Finally he releases the facelock in frustration and Dagda instantly jumps on the opportunity, kicking him hard in the thigh before catching him with a straight punch at his chest. He stumbles back from the hard blow and Danny makes his move, trapping him with the front headlock, and drops down for the DDT onto the stairs! Raynor’s head collides with the steel and Dagda can’t help but to chuckle at the fans cringing reaction to the noise. He grabs Raynor, slumped over the stairs with, at the very least, one hell of a headache but that’s not enough to put a Caveman down. He begins to pick him back up but gets an elbow to his gut and Raynor turns the tables, grabbing the back of Dagda’s head, and ramming it against the turnbuckle. He lets Dagda stagger from the blow, facing the dislodged steel steps, and Raynor steps behind him, slightly to his side, extending Dagda’s arm, and wraps his leg around his opponent’s before dropping forward with his Forward Legsweep straight onto the stairs! “A taste of his own medicine,” Mak says with a chuckle as Danny Dagda clutches his chest, absorbing most of the punishment, and wheezes heavily. “Raynor dislodged the stairs, he got a taste of his own medicine… so it’d be his medicine’s medicine? Because if you need medicine for medicine then you probably should get a new whole medicine altogether…” “Enough,” Mak cuts his partner off before the observation continues. He grabs Dagda and lifts him off of the stairs, looking over at the commentators with a wicked grin, giving them the cue to get the hell out of the way. He knees him in the gut and grabs a handful of trunks with one hand, hair with the other and- “It’s about time to jump ship, Mak,” King says and leaps out from his chair, getting away from Raynor who launches Dagda onto the table. He looks at his partner, remaining still, and facetiously advises, “Run, Mak, run!” “I can’t run,” Mak sourly responds, feeling Dagda’s sweat being flung onto him. “Then wheel, Mak, wheel!” “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN… WE HAVE REACHED THE HALF-WAY MARK OF THIS MATCH WITH FIFTEEN MINUTES LEFT- WITH AN EVEN SCORE OF ONE EACH!” Raynor steps onto the table and reaches down to pick up Dagda but he’s snatched by Dagda, still on his back, thrown off the table, awkwardly crashing behind it. Raynor shrugs it off, though, and rushes forward, clubbing Danny with a forearm to the back to keep him from getting back up. He hops back onto the table with a handful of Dagda’s hair, lifting him onto one knee, where Dagda lands two gut shots before standing up with the European Uppercut. Raynor sways in his spot and Dagda tries to capitalize but gets hit with an elbow. They collide into a grapple, struggling for control, and Raynor catches him with a knee, doubling him over. He maneuvers into the stand headscissors, arms wrapping around him for the lift, and tries to lift but Dagda sandbags his weight. Once again Raynor seems ready to lift the heavier Dagda but instead he gets his plans foiled by being sent flipping off the table, smacking against the cement. He looks down at his opponent with a smile and looks up at the crowd who are rallying against him. He looks up at the distant, gigantic stone slabs, Raynor’s position, next glances at the top turnbuckle in the ring, Raynor’s position, then he scans the ring apron, Raynor’s position, and finally he just glances down from the table at Raynor’s position. He figures that elevation is elevation and slowly begins to taunt the crowd and the Raynman with pelvic thrusts before dropping off to plant an elbow into his chest. He takes his sweet time standing up, regaining stability after Raynor’s offensive spree, lifting his opponent back up, and throws him into the ring, to the relief of Mak and King. “Well, was I right or was I right?” King asks with a laugh, trying to salvage the papers on his desk. “Wheel, Mak, wheel?” He bitterly asks to an apathetic shrug from the Suicide King. Danny Dagda looks ready to slide into the ring but thinks better of it, staring down at the ring apron with a wide grin plastered on his face. He lifts the skirt up and reaches underneath with a playful look of shock to the discovery of the table he pulls out. He looks up to see Raynor staggering back up to his feet, shaking the cobwebs out of his head, but Dagda cockily takes his time, carefully sliding it into the ring. He rolls into the ring and sees Raynor coming after him, so he grabs the table and jabs him with it in the gut! This opponent doubles over and he then pushes down on the table from his end, sending the other part to crack Raynor with an uppercut! He reels backwards before falling to the canvas and Dagda coxes how he only hurt the table because he loves it, while setting up with a whistle. He spots Chris Raynor already pushing himself up to his knees but he pays no attention, taking a step back and sarcastically framing the table with his fingers like an artist. He gives an approving nod and turns around to get caught with a jab to the face! Raynor, still rather dazed, sticks to simplicity by clutching onto the back of Dagda’s head, slamming his face into the table! He lifts his head up again and smashes it down against the table, nearly making a dent, and goes for the lift once again. Danny plants his hands on the table, battling with Raynor to keep from getting his face rearranging, before he gets an idea. He begins to stomp on the cheap table’s legs, causing them awkwardly bend, letting the table have a sudden lean to it. He pushes his hands off of the higher end and catches Raynor with an elbow to the temple. He grins at his opponent, or at his own genius, and can anticipate the lunge of a wild clothesline, so he naturally ducks. The only problem with Dagda’s hunch is he didn’t give Raynor enough credit to know how to feint- causing Raynor to slip behind him, slightly bend over, and snatch his legs trapped against his shoulders. He hoists Dagda into the air and instantly gets bombarded by shots by a desperate Danny. He nearly releases Dagda due to one particularly vicious blow towards the back of neck but is able to take a strained step forward, dropping him for the Electric Chair position throat-first against the ropes! Dagda comes reeling back, clutching at his throat, and helpless as Raynor wraps his arms around him with the waistlock to arch backwards, throwing him over with the release German Suplex, through the table! The crowd roars at the sight of Dagda nearly flipping over from the impact and the reassuring crunching sound of the table snapping. “Raynor with the ‘Chris Smash’ and now he has the lead on Dagda, two to one!” Mak exclaims. “One of the dumbest move names ever,” King bitterly mutters. “WINNER OF THE THIRD FALL- GIVING HIM A TWO-TO-ONE ADVANTAGE- AT 18:27… CCCCHHHRRRRIIIISSSSSS RRRAAAYNNNNOOORRR!” “Raynor may have the upper hand now, he has rallied back against Dagda,” Mak says. “Don’t be such a drama queen, Danny just got caught, and that is all.” Raynor can’t help but to grin at the tides turning in the match and looks to pick up Dagda, who is suddenly unaccounted for. He scans ringside until he sees Dagda’s head poke out, slowly trying to retrieve a table, most likely desperate to catch up with his opponent. He holds the table upright, one end firmly on the ground, and has to use it as a crutch to stand back up. He dumbly leans it against the ring apron to take a breather and Raynor simply stares at the golden opportunity before seizing it. He runs back into the ropes and charges forward, dropping down to the canvas with a baseball slide that connects with the table and sends Dagda flying backwards against the barricade. “Raynor just caught Danny, again,” Mak gloats, mostly aimed at his partner. He slips to the outside and grabs a hold of the table, simply throwing it at Dagda to keep him dazed. Danny grabs a hold of the table and comes out swinging, smacking Raynor with the edge of it, causing him to bounce against the steel ring post. Dagda drops it, flips it over, and gets the legs, and flips it over once again to set it up but the dazed expression and look in his eye seems to imply he has no idea of what’s next. He turns around and, even he isn’t too surprised, gets ambushed by Raynor with a series of forearm blows, European uppercut, and topped off with a simple bitch slap of his own, getting the crowd riled up in cheers once again. Danny staggers back and jukes his upper body backwards to evade an overhand right before he hits the edge of the table, halting him but also just out of the reach of Raynor. He sees the flash of Raynor’s arm and shields his face with his forearms, absorbing the attempted elbow. He tries to fire back a counter strike but Raynor simply tries for another, which is promptly blocked once again. He reaches around and gets a hold of Dagda’s head, pulling him into a brutal elbow shot, which leaves his head hanging low. Raynor decides to throw an unexpected variable into the equation and begins to throw a front kick but Dagda sees it. He catches Raynor’s leg at the thigh and frees his head while Chris resorts to hobbling on one leg for support until Danny wraps an arm around his opponent’s neck, trapping the leg against his body. The crowd burst into jeers while Danny arches back, throwing Chris Raynor back with the Capture Suplex! He releases him, falling to the cement with a huge breath, and suddenly hears a crunching noise. He immediately seats up and glances behind him, seeing Raynor writhe in the wreckage from the table set up beyond him. “Yes! Raynor just got dumped right through that table, ha, Dagda always has a plan,” King taunts his partner. “The look on Dagda’s face tells otherwise but now it’s tied at two a piece with less than ten minutes to go,” Mak replies. “YOUR WINNER OF THE FOURTH FALL… TYING THEM AT TWO A PIECE… AT 21:23… DDDAAANNNYYYY DDDAAAAGGDDAAA!” DAG-DA SUCKS! DAG-DA SUCKS! DAG-DA SUCKS! “Do you hear that, Mak?” King asks, watching Dagda use the ring apron to get back up to one knee. “Of course I hear it, it’s damn near deafening,” he replies in confusion. “Oh, the pitiful, woeful sound of jealousy- at least, that’s what I’ve always heard when people booed me.” Danny, refusing to show his consuming exhaustion, remains on one knee for a moment before lifting up the ring skirt to fetch yet another table out. This time he doesn’t waste time in sliding it into the ring and he turns around to stomp on his opponent. Raynor weakly rolls away and onto one knee, which Dagda takes as the green light for assault and he comes at him. But Raynor’s prepared, dropping down, and catching Dagda with the drop toehold, sending him crashing against the barricade. Raynor rolls up to his feet as Danny remains slumped over the guardrail, with security guards hustling towards him for Dagda’s sake, and he grabs him, throwing him into the ring. He leans against the ring apron and slowly climbs up it onto both feet, letting the moments pass in hopes of regaining some stamina. Meanwhile Dagda pushes himself to one knee and soon stands up, stumbling at Raynor with a sloppy right. It grazes Raynor, which snaps him back into reality, and he responds by reaching over the ring ropes to get the front facelock in. This time, however, he doesn’t seem to get much resistance as he hoists him up into the air with a loud grunt, nowhere to go but down. But he can feel his arms waiver and soon he feels the weight disappear, Danny slipping free onto his feet on the outside, and he simply yet brutally grabs Raynor’s ankles, yanking them from underneath him! He smacks against the ring apron and Danny looks on in glee while he plops onto the outside. He reaches down and snatches him up, lifting him up to his feet, and takes a step back to unleash a karate kick to his gut. He then continues his assault by clutching Raynor’s throat with his hand, his other hand placed on his back. He lifts him into the air and holds him high, showing off, before heading towards the barricade, hoping to toss him over. “Dagda might want to give the front row more than they bargained for,” Mak humorously says to his partner’s groan. “If they tear him apart then I’m fine with that.” He hovers above the guardrail, causing fans to flee the immediate area, and swiftly reacts with two sharp elbows. He falls onto his feet but not before he grabs the back of Dagda’s head while dropping, sending him throat first into the barricade! Danny staggers back, struggling to catch his breath once again, and Raynor begins to climb back over, one foot on the top of the guardrail when he gets inspired. He steps up onto the top of the guardrail and watches Danny bend over, gasping for air, so he takes a chance- he leaps off of the barricade with one leg thrown high in the air, hoping for the scissor kick! But the wild cheers from Raynor’s rare display of agility gets Danny’s gut churning and he glances up, realizing what could potentially happen. He evades with a dive as Raynor were an incoming grenade, causing Chris to awkwardly land, the momentum carrying him to smack against the ring apron. Danny rolls up to his feet and taps Raynor’s shoulder as he stumbles back, causing him to whirl around right into a front kick. He doubles over and Danny locks in the front headlock, grabs a handful of tights, and elevates him in the air before dropping down with the Implant DDT! He scrambles to his feet but looks down to see a crumbled Raynor, who flops onto his back in agony. Danny Dagda looks around and points to the turnbuckle, inciting jeers from the fans, and he simply dismisses them with a wave of his hand. He climbs onto the apron and stares at Raynor still down while the idea of taking flight is progressively becoming more and more appealing. “Brutal Implant DDT from Dagda, this could really cost Raynor,” Mak says. “Oh Christ, this could cost Dagda a lot, lot more,” King says, pointing to Dagda scaling up the turnbuckle, to everybody’s disbelief. “Why?” “Because he may have felt one-upped by Raynor’s short-lived attempt at flight? Maybe because if he did hit whatever the hell he’s trying for that it’ll keep him down?” Danny Dagda slowly stands up on the top turnbuckle, surveying the audience, and beginning to point in all general directions, dedicating the following pelvic thrusts towards them. He glances at the SmarkTron with a smirk and he hears Funyon’s deep voice chime in right on cue- “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN… WE ARE STILL AT A TIE WITH FIVE MINUTES LEFT!” He does one final slow pelvic thrust before bending his knees and taking the leap off, flying through the air with an elbow aimed right at Raynor, who is loudly stirring. Danny Dagda goes to cockily laugh but instead finds himself unable to speak because Chris gets his knees up in time, causing the crowd to break into an absolute frenzy! “Dagda missed, he took a stupid, cocky risk and look what happened!” “Your bias is staggering, Mak… just like Raynor’s lack of skill,” King replies, oblivious to the irony. They both lie on the cement, breathing heavily, and trying to grasp their bearings once again before moving but time is of the essence. Raynor takes his time but rolls onto all fours, crawling over to Dagda, and aiding him up to his feet. He draws back Dagda’s head with a smirk and musters up the strength to send his head colliding with the steel ring post. He rolls him into the ring and hunts underneath the ring to pull out another table, sliding it into the ring while Dagda rolls up, clutching his ribs. Chris slides into the ring and gets ambushed with stomps by Dagda, causing him to frantically roll towards the turnbuckle to use for getting up. He uses the turnbuckle as his aid and leans back to throw a mule kick that sends Dagda staggering and now he goes on the offensive with a flurry of overhand rights. He begins to get the best of Dagda until he gets caught with a counter jab that stuns him, followed by an eye rake, a shot to the kneecap, and a headbutt. Dagda throws Raynor against the turnbuckle and unleashes a flurry of elbow strikes to stun him. He then sends a kick into Raynor’s gut that doubles him over and follows it with a cracking knee to his face. This opponent slumps against the turnbuckle and Dagda grabs the table, throwing it against Raynor to sandwich him in. He smacks it twice with a laugh and jogs backwards before breaking into a sprint forward but it is ultimately ill fated as Raynor instinctively shoves the table off of him, letting it fall over and collide with Danny! The blow from the table, more so stunning than lethal, halts him in his tracks and he shoves it away from him, leaving it to teeter back towards Raynor, who steps away from the turnbuckle, letting the table fall against the turnbuckle at a slant. “Look at them battling it out, even finding unique ways to use the table as a weapon.” Danny steps forward with a hard right overhand, causing Raynor to nearly trip back onto the table. Dagda lunges forward, even if it means a simple body splash to put Raynor through the table, but instead he eats a big boot to the face that sends him staggering backwards. Raynor rushes forward and telegraphs an overhand right that Dagda blocks in mid-air and uses the chance to spin around behind him and catch him with the waistlock. He glances behind him, knowing the table’s only a German Suplex away, and gets ready to throw his weight back but he eats two sharp elbows to the temple, letting Raynor break through the hold. This time Chris slyly slips behind him and secures the waistlock but the shameless Dagda finds an easy out with a well-placed low blow. He breaks free of the hold and throws a back elbow just for good measures before smacking him in the gut with a knee. He snatches Raynor and lifts him high into the air with Guerilla Press, eyeing the table like a predator eyeing prey and looks ready to drop him face first through the table! But instead Raynor wisely pushes down on Dagda’s head, in a slight distraction, and swings himself off, freeing himself. He tries to take advantage but Dagda simply throws a hard thigh kick, allowing him to go behind once again positioning his head underneath Raynor’s armpit, an arm wrapped around him, and looking for the backdrop suplex. But Chris Raynor throws his body weight backwards and with amazing agility lands on his feet behind Dagda. The crowd explodes while Dagda whirls around with a desperate spinning back fist that he ducks underneath and then counters with the European uppercut. “These two have just hit desperation mode with little time left and that table being just feet away,” Mak says. “They’re doing anything they can think of to avoid being the one to be sent through that able.” “They’re reacting, not thinking anymore like this is some sort of chess match,” King points out to Mak. “Hell, there isn’t time to think,” Mak says while glancing up at the timer. Chris Raynor looks up at the SmarkTron in a panic, now clutching the back of Dagda’s head before driving a knee into his midsection, followed by another. He locks in the front facelock and doesn’t waste a millisecond before hoisting him into the air with the table still leaning in the corner behind him. “It’s coming down to the final moments now,” Mak excitedly says. “Dagda has been caught in this position by Raynor a few times now but he’s been able to slip out.” “All the previous times he’s escaped it doesn’t mean a damn thing if Dagda doesn’t pull something out of his ass quickly,” King responds. However, once again Dagda manages to slip out of Raynor’s suplex, while the crowd burst into jeers, but this time Raynor’s prepared. He instantly whirls around and catches Danny with a right hand, the jeers dissolving into cheers, followed by another shot, another one that whips his head, and draws back to deliver one last heavy shot. Dagda stumbles back and Raynor unloads another spurt of rights until Danny ducks one, quickly spinning around to face Raynor’s back. He snatches one of Raynor’s arms, twisting it back but gets caught with a back elbow before he can get the other. Dagda simply tosses Raynor face first into table and he quickly turns around, still leaning against the table, and watching Dagda take a few steps back. But the Raynman surges forward with a big boot that smacks Dagda in his face and he charges forward with a flurry of forearms. “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN… PLEASE APPLAUD THESE TWO AS THEY ENTER THE FINAL MINUTE!” He lunges forward, desperate to do something, and gets a hard, resounding kick against his inner thigh from Dagda. Raynor’s leg almost gives way and the sinking feeling of momentum swinging the other way creeps over him. He continues to assault Raynor’s sore leg and peppers in a wicked bitch slap and he slips behind Raynor. He clubs him with a forearm to the back of the head and a cheap kick to the back of his knee for good measures. The crowd begins to erupt in disapproval while Dagda hooks both of Raynor’s arms back, pressing his palms flat against his back, the prelude to his release tiger suplex that is aimed right at the table. Danny Dagda suddenly knows he has it because this one feels right and he can’t help but to smirk. Chris Raynor suddenly knows because his body lurches in that awful second knowing the inevitable coming and he can’t help but to grimace. Suicide King suddenly knows it because he can see his former friend’s weight lifted off of the canvas and he can’t help but to laugh. Finally the fans know it because they watch Chris Raynor being launched at the table with the release tiger suplex and they can’t help but help but to groan in disappoint. He smashes through the table, the table sending wooden shrapnel flying, and his body awkwardly crunches over itself, allowing Raynor to be staring upside down at the SmarkTron, revealing there were only a few seconds left and shortly after he can hear the bell ring. He slowly slumps down to the canvas, beaten and battered, and lets out a loud moan before cranking his neck from side to side, just for the reassurance of mobility. DING! DING! DING! “He just caught Raynor with the release tiger suplex straight into that table! I can’t believe it, Danny Dagda is able to pull off the sudden victory with the release tiger suplex,” Mak says in blatant disappointment. “WINNER OF THE FIFTH FALL AND YOUR WINNER OF THE IRON MAN TABLES MATCH… DDDAANNNYYYY DDAAGGDDAA!” Funyon’s deep voice bellows over the jeers that the Queen may be able to hear. “What did I say?” King joyously taunts, “Danny Dagda gets the job done.” “You mean ‘Daddy Dagda?’” Mak points out. “No, no… God no,” King looks over at his partner in disgust with a slight shudder. “I feel dirty if I say that,” he concludes. Danny Dagda rolls up to his feet, nearly stumbling in fatigue, and tries to shake off the test of endurance as if it were nothing. He looks down at Raynor, slowly falling forward on the canvas, and tilts his head to the side to give a small wave at his defeated opponent. The jeers grow even louder as Kivell hold up Dagda’s hand and he shakes him off, cockily cracking his knuckles and neck. “Aneurysm” begins to blare, to the bitterness of the fans, while Danny climbs the turnbuckle, sending kisses to all his adoring fans in the audience. “Well, that ends one hell of a way to open up Battleground,” Mak admits. “But there’s a lot, lot more!” -Screen Fades to Black-

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation presents... SWF GROUND ZERO! Live, Friday, August 3, from STONEHENGE, MOTHERFUCKER! (7pm PST, 10pm EST; check local listings) (Send all promos/marked matches to chirs3) Theme song: By popular demand, "Protect Ya Neck" by the Wu-tang Clan. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- THE MAIN EVENT - SWF CHAMPIONSHIP UNIFICATION MATCH Alan Clark © vs. "The Dean of Professional Wrestling" Jay Hawke © --> The two most coveted singles titles in the biz, and their respective holders, go head to head in the Main Event! Our Disney sponsored World Champion meets the most dominant International Champion we've ever seen, and when the dust settles, the winner will hold the new unified SWF World Championship! Rules: Standard singles. Send to: Ace309 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- SWF TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH Wild and Dangerous © vs. Revolution Zero (Toxxic and Austin Sly) --> Revolution Zero, now with a little more tag success under their belts, take Wild and Dangerous up on their open contract! And if the events of the past two Storms are any indication, this battle looks to be even more intense than the first! Will tonight mark the beginning of Revolution Zero's dominance of the tag team scene, or can the tried and true methodology of the legendary Wild and Dangerous stave them off once again? Rules: Standard tag team match. Send to: Longdogger_Pete -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- SWF HARDCORE CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH Landon "La Cucaracha" Maddix © vs. MANSON --> I could say that this match has a long, strange history, but anything involving MANSON usually does. But even now it's gone farther than ever before - not content to simply talk trash and interfere in matches, MANSON made it very personal a few weeks ago when he kidnapped Megan Skye and gave her the Instant Hell Murder before Landon could intervene! MANSON has been demanding a crack at Landon for weeks and weeks, and apparently that was the last straw, as one week later Landon granted him his shot! Tonight, La Cucaracha and the Savage Messiah kick it Hardcore, with the title on the line! Rules: HARDCORE~~~!~!~!?~!!?! Send to: chirs3 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- SWF CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH The Fabulous Jakey © vs. Jimmy the Doom --> Because Jakey needs a defense, and because Jimmy is awesome. Rules: Singles, with Cruiser addenda. Send to: chirs3 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- CAGE MATCH Fulminatus © vs. An Octopus --> Our number one contenders match didn't exactly go as planned... didn't go at all, come to think of it... but we're not letting Fulminatus off the hook that easily! He takes on arguably his most dangerous opponent yet, as An Octopus returns to the ring for one night only... IN THE CAAAAAAGE! Rules: First creature to escape the cage wins. Send to: chirs3 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- SINGLES MATCH "Hollywood" Spike Jenkins vs. Michael Alexander --> Ask, and ye shall receive. Rules: Singles. Send to: Ace309 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- SINGLES MATCH CIA vs. Jesse James Sanders --> Get everyone booked! Rules: Singles. Send to: Longdogger_Pete -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- HALF HOUR IRON-MAN TABLES MATCH Chris Raynor vs. Danny Dagda --> Get everyone booked! Rules: Self explanatory. You idiot. Send to: Sly -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Yeah, the poster says Wednesday, but we've had a hard time getting back to the Wednesday schedule (blame me ), so it's Friday. The next show will be Aftershox, on a Wednesday, and then we're finally back to normal. Anyone who wants a stip added, shout away! Running to work now - Champion's C's will be edited in upon my return.

PROMOS~! Main event coming. I hope. GZ card will be posted before leaving this afternoon - just a few kinks that ain't quite been worked out yet.

Welcome back,” Mak Francis greets the viewers, “and we’re just about ready for our main event! Tonight, Johnny Dangerous will be looking for a measure of revenge against Revolution Zero as he takes on the SWF Cruiserweight Champion; the Fabulous Jakey!” “Well he will have Wildchild with him at ringside,” adds King, “but on the other hand, Jakey will have all of Revolution Zero at ringside. Unfortunately, those who are not actually involved with the match will be handcuffed to the railings to prevent them from interfering in this match.” “It’s definitely an interesting added bonus for the match, but I’m starting to wonder if we’re just bidding our time until someone breaks free and makes their presence felt on the match,” adds Francis. “It’s almost like we’re asking for it to happen.” “Nobody is asking for anything!” snaps King. “They’re going to be handcuffed out here so we can keep our watchful eye fixed on that scheming Bahaman.” “Yes, I’m sure that’s the man we need to watch out for,” Mak sarcastically agrees with the Gambling Man. “However, I think it’s time for us to send this one over to our ring announcer Funyon, who is standing by!” *DING DING DING!!!* The sounding of the timekeeper’s bell draws all the attention towards the ring where Funyon is standing. Slowly, the colossal light structure hanging over head dims it’s lights as a single spotlight shines down on the ring announcer. “Ladies and gentlemen,” bellows Funyon. “The following match is tonight’s MAIN EVENT~ and it will be for one fall! Introducing first…” Funyon’s voice trails off only slightly before- “WEL-WEL-W-W-WELCOME TO THE REVOLUTION!” “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” As expected, the crowd is already booing as the ‘REV-0’ logo appears on the Smarktron and the lights steadily dim down… and then the main guitar riff kicks in. *BOOOM!* *BOOOM!* *BOOOM!* ‘KNOW YOUR ENEMY!’ …and as the pyro goes off and Zack de la Rocha’s voice roars out, out come Revolution Zero! One by one, all four members of the group emerge from behind the curtains, which is lead by the Fabulous Jakey( seeing as how it’s his match ) with Austin Sly in caboose… pulling a red Radio Flyer wagon behind him. “What in God’s green earth,” Mak mutters as both announcers look on in bewilderment at the sight of Revolution Zero pulling around a wagon. Even more for the sheet draped over it to presumably conceal whatever the payload happens to be (which seems to be at least several large boxes) and the rather tacky Revoltion Zero logo scribbled on the sheet, “-and it couldn’t have been made with anything more high tech than a black King Size permanent marker,” Francis speculates. King nods in agreement. “From Minneapolis, Minnesota,” booms Funyon, “and being accompanied to the ring by Toxxic, Austin Sly and Amy Stephens. He is the CURRENT and REIGNING SWF CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPION; the FAAAAAABULOUUSSS JAAAAKEEEEEYYYY!!” "JAK-EY SUCKS!" "JAK-EY SUCKS!" "JAK-EY SUCKS!" "JAK-EY SUCKS!" Revolution Zero heads towards the ring but is stopped just before reaching the ring by a plethora of referees. There sole mission for this evening is to ensure that this match goes on and off without a hitch, and they intend to make sure that happens exactly to plan! Each member of Revolution Zero is sequestered and rigorously searched. “I’m not sure what they’re expecting to find on Revolution Zero except for maybe a few personal items and a pack of chewing gum,” Suicide King confidentially says. Just then the referee checking Toxxic pulls out a handcuff key, but Stephens innocently puts his hands up as the referee questions him. “Personal items and a pack of chewing gum?” Mak mockingly asks. “Just look at the floor around them,” he finishes, pointing towards the ground next to the Revolution Zero members. The cameras zoom in to show all the various items Referees have retrieved from Revolution Zero members. Keys, mace, cherry bombs, bolt cutters and a banana. “A banana?” “Don’t ask me,” replies King, looking very much like he wants nothing to do with that. “I don’t even want to know what they were planning to do with that.” “Well, regardless, the three members of Revolution Zero that aren’t involved with this match will be handcuffed to the rails,” notes Mak, “and to make sure they stay that way there will be several security guards watching them the whole time. What I want to know, though, is what in the heck is in that wagon and how come that hasn’t been checked?” “Don’t you know the law Mak? You have to have reasonable suspicion to search someone’s vehicle.” “A wagon is a vehicle?” “You ride in it don’t you?” “Oh, come on!” shouts Mak. “Besides, if you ask me, I say that sheet covering what ever is in the wagon makes it pretty darned suspicious to me!” “Nobody asked you, Christopher Reeves!” Finally, the members of Revolution Zero (minus Jakey) are handcuffed to the metal rails of the crowd barricade, with the wagon located in perfect reaching distance of all three. However, looming over each of them is the ominous presence of three security guards (rent-a-cops) that promise to keep this ragtag group of misfits under control. Inside the ring, Jakey stands, patiently waiting the arrival of his opponent. That moment finally comes as the lights dim once more, and the crowd immediately jumps to their feet, exploding with cheers! A video begins displaying an image of a fuse fizzling down towards a stick of dynamite, and the Mission Impossible theme starts ringing out around the arena. Just before the music swings into full gear to launch the crowd into a frenzy- “JOHNNY DANGEROUS~!” -a deep, sultry voice breathes the name of the SWF’s secret agent over the speakers then- *BOOOOOOM!* -the music hits as an explosion of pyro literally rocks the entrance stage! Finally, through all the vibrant lights and the cloud of smoke comes not just the Barracuda, but both members of Wild and Dangerous, silhouetted by the strobes with occasional flashes reflecting off Johnny’s high-tech shades as he turns his head from side-to-side, looking out at his crowd! “JOHN-NY!” “JOHN-NY!” “JOHN-NY!” “JOHN-NY!” “And his opponent,” bellows Funyon. “From Las Vegas, and accompanied to the ring by the Wildchild! He is one half of the CURRENT AND FIVE-TIME REIGNING SWF WORLD TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS. HE IS JOHNNY ‘THE BARRACUDA’ DANGEROUS!” Johnny storms towards the ring as WC heads around to receive his shackling. After a quick check he’s cuffed to the rails on the opposite side of the ring. Ronald ‘Red’ Herrington then signals for the bell to begin this match… *DING DING DING!!!* …but Dangerous seems to be too preoccupied with Revolution Zero to notice. He leans over the top rope, pointing at Toxxic while shouting words that would have your mother reaching for the nearest bar of soap. “He’d better worry about the match and leave those other guys be,” says King, as Jakey tiptoes his way in behind the Barracuda, Stephens sees him and continues egging Dangerous on, and even with the fans howling their warnings Johnny never even detects the Cruiserweight Champion until he reaches between the Barracuda’s legs and rolls him over with a school boy! Herrington quickly drops down and counts for: ONE! TWO! NO! Dangerous manages to roll his shoulder off the mat, saving himself some face for now. “Jesus! Johnny almost gave this match away by letting himself get distracted by Revolution Zero,” says Mak. “He’d better stop worrying about them and worry about the match or he’s going to find himself staring up at the lights in a hurry!” “Which would be a fitting end to this so called vengeance of Dangerous’ anyway,” King finishes. Johnny quickly rolls up to his feet while Jakey backs up a little to give himself some room, which proves to be smart as Johnny immediately charges for the Cruiserweight Champion. Johnny tries to level the smaller man with a lariat but Jakey quickly hooks Dangerous’ arm and with a quick pop of the hips he sends his opponent to the mat with a textbook armdrag, which prompts a rousing round of cheers and applause from the Revolution Zero members! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!” The fans let Jakey know exactly how they feel about that, but it doesn’t deter the Cruiserweight Champion in the least. Again Dangerous charges for the Cruiserweight Champion and like before, Jakey hooks the Barracuda’s arm and tries to send him to the mat with another armdrag, but this time Johnny keeps his feet planted on the ground. He quickly headbuts Jakey and with his arm hooked around the Fabulous One’s arm he pulls him back towards him and- *CRACK!* -Johnny slams his forehead into Jakey’s again, getting a loud pop from the crowd! He releases the Cruiserweight Champion and Jakey staggers backwards, reeling from the blows. Johnny grabs his arm and then steps forward, whipping Jakey across the ring and into the corner post! His back slams into the unforgiving steel and then he stumbles out of the corner as Dangerous starts to charge towards him and- *SPLAT!* “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!” -Johnny is suddenly stopped dead in his tracks as an egg comes flying into the ring and hits him directly in the face! “What the heck?! Someone just egged the Barracuda in the face!” shouts Mak. “I think that someone might be Revolution Zero,” King says. Lying on the floor is the sheet that previously covered the Revolution Zero wagon, and in the wagon itself is an assortment of various items, including but not limited too: egg cartons, milk cartons, water bottles, and even a case of beer! “That must be Amy’s,” King speculates. Mak nods. Herrington heads to the edge of the ring where Revolution Zero stands, admonishing them for the tossing of the egg, but all three of them profess their innocence, and since Herrington didn’t actually witness the throw he can’t do much about it. “Even though all three members of Revolution Zero have been handcuffed to the rails, they’ve still found away to cause havoc on this match,” says Mak. “Why can’t they just watch like Wildchild?” At the mention of the Bahama Bomber, the cameras show him. WC is standing by and watching the match unfold like any good man should. (Wildchild does have a mammoth security guard hovering over him.) He hollers at Johnny to remain calm, urging him not to do anything crazy after getting hit with an egg. As the match continues, Jakey is getting up after having a little time to gather his bearings and Johnny is tossing a towel out of the ring after wiping his face with it. The two men begin to circle one another and then come together with a classic collar-and-elbow tie up! Being the stronger of the two, Johnny easily takes control of the lock up and then powerfully shoves the Cruiserweight Champion back! Jakey stumbles backwards and falls to the canvas, which gets a thunderous cheer from the crowd. “YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHH!!” Jakey gets back up--his confidence undeterred—and heads back for his opponent, “-and I hope he has a better plan of action then trying to outmuscle the Barracuda,” says Mak. “That’s assuredly a no win situation for him.” “You just watch, Jakey has something up his sleeve,” King responds. The Cruiserweight Champion rushes towards Dangerous, ducking an attempted lariat from the Barracuda, and rolls around behind him. When Johnny spins around he’s quickly met with a boot to the gut, forcing the wind out of his lungs. Jakey grabs him by the arm and sends Dangerous across the ring with an Irish whip! Johnny hits the ropes and rebounds for the Fabulous One, who suddenly bellies out, letting the Barracuda float over him and continue to the opposite ropes. Jakey jumps to his feet and anticipating Johnny’s return from the ropes he jumps up and extends both feet out for a drop kick! Unfortunately, Johnny hooks both arms around the top rope to stop him from bouncing off them and the Cruiserweight Champion hits nothing but air before crashing down quite embarrassingly on his tail! “Jakey’s running off of adrenalin there, trying to anticipate the movements, but he has to wait until he sees his opponent,” says Mak. Jakey hurriedly rolls back up to his feet, but when he does stand he’s mowed down by a lariat! Johnny quickly reaches down and pulls his opponent back up to his feet and then pulls him into a front face lock… “Oh no, not this stupid Triple Agent,” mutters King. …but that’s exactly what the Barracuda is looking for. He raises his arm out to the fans and unleashes a battle cry that gets a huge pop in response… and then he just barely ducks out of the way as another egg goes whizzing past his face! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!” “God damn it! They’re really starting to get on my nerves,” hisses Francis. Johnny points his finger in accusing fashion at Toxxic, just before an open water bottle hits him square between the eyes! “At least they have good aim,” says King. “Oh, shut up.” Finally, the Barracuda has had enough! He rolls out of the ring and heads over towards Funyon. After ordering the ring announcer out of his seat he takes the steel folding chair and closes it up with a loud clang! The crowd is really going now while Herrington hollers from the ring at Johnny to get back in and put the chair down. “He’d better do what that referee says,” warns King, but right now that’s the last thing Johnny is about to do. He heads over towards Revolution Zero… but is cut off by their team of security guards. “I knew those guys would come in handy.” However, with the cats away the mice come out to play. Revolution Zero takes advantage of their moment of not being watched. Austin reaches into the wagon and produces several lock picks that were stashed inside one of the egg cartons and hands them out to Toxxic and Amy. “This isn’t looking good,” says Mak. “We’re about to have World War Three out here!” The security guards turn Johnny away, but when they turn back around to do their jobs of watching over Revoltuion Zero- *WHOOOOOOSSSSSSSH~!* *CRACK!* “YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!!” -Austin swings the wagon out and hits all three guards in the head with the spinning attack. Eggs, water bottles and everything else goes flying everywhere. Needless to say, Revolution Zero is freed. Johnny heads in after them… “Johnny Dangerous is about to be out numbered four to one as his partner, Wildchild is still shackled to the… Hey! Where the heck is Wildchild?” Everyone looks over to where WC is supposed to be and much to the surprise of everyone, he is gone! The handcuff dangles from the railing and Steve, WC’s security guard is sprawled out on the concrete floor! “He must have escaped during all the commotion,” Suicide King suggests. “So much for being the shining example!” Near the corner of the ring on the outside floor, Johnny Dangerous fights the odds valiantly(or stupidly as some would say) but it’s a no win situation for him as the group easily beats him into the ground! *CRACK!* *WHACK!* *CRACK!* *SMACK!* “This is supposed to be Johnny Dangerous’ revenge!” Mak angrily shouts. As the beating continues WC finally appears from under the ring and slides into the ring. He heads for the corner post and climbs up with the crowd cheering him on. “Oh no, now he’s going to get involved in the mix!” When the Rev-Zero members turn around is when WC moonsaults himself off the post, into the four members- *CRACK!* “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!!” “Wildchild just took down Revolution Zero! This looks like some kind of a six car pileup out there now!” WC gets up and lays punches into anything that moves before grabbing Johnny and helping him back to the ring for safety. He then grabs Toxxic and rolls him under the bottom rope before following after. “I think Herrington has ended the match, declaring a no contest, but I don’t think these guys care at all!” WC pulls Toxxic to his feet, but Amy Stephens charges into the ring to save her brother… but she’s suddenly scooped off the mat by Johnny, “-he’s going for it on Amy Stephens!” shouts Mak, as Johnny lifts her up, looking for the MI Slam! “EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEM-IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-” Mak yells. *SLAM!* “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!!” “I can’t believe Johnny just MI Slammed a woman! What kind of crap is that?!” King exclaims. “She’s been fighting men her entire time in this federation, King!” Mak loudly responds. “Don’t start some man on woman violence now!” Amy rolls out of the ring and Johnny turns his attention on Toxxic. He pulls the Straight-Edged Sensation to his feet and sends across the ring with an Irish whip as the Wildchild rushes towards the ropes and Dangerous crouches slightly to catch Stephens with a back body drop on the return. Toxxic hits the ropes… and then falls, face-first to the mat, when Austin suddenly reaches under the bottom rope and grabs his partner by his ankle! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!” “Fast thinking by Austin,” says King. “If he hadn’t interfered Toxxic would have become victim to the Silver Bullet!” Austin drags Toxxic out of the ring, and with Jakey grabbing Amy all four Rev-Zero members head towards the walkway to leave ringside. Finally, Wild and Dangerous’ theme kicks up as they stand at the edge of the ring holler back at Revolution Zero, and daring them to come back to the ring. “Revolution Zero is backing out of the fight now, but they’ve signed Wild and Dangerous’ open contract,” says Mak, “and at Ground Zero we will see these two teams square off for the Tag Team Championship!” “You can bet your bottom dollar that the reign of Wild and Dangerous’ is going to end,” says King. “Nobody that’s foolish enough to have an open contract remains champion long.” “We shall see, King, but the Tag Team Championship match is the most anticipated match of Ground Zero so it can’t all be bad,” says Mak. “That show is coming up next week on pay per view, so check your local cable providers for details on how to order, and we’ll see you there. For the Suicide King, this is Mak ‘The Franchise’ Francis signing off, and you’ve been watching SWF Storm!” A final shot shows Wild and Dangerous standing triumphantly together in the ring, with the Tag Titles over their shoulders… As we: FADE OUT. ©2007 Smartmarks Wrestling Federation 'Raising Workrate By Hitting People Harder'

*BOOM!* *BOOM!* *BOOM!* *BOOM!* *BOOM!* *BANG!*-*BANG!*-*BANG!* *BANG!*-*BANG!*-*BANG!*-*BANG!* *BBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!* "RRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!" "This is SWF Storm!" shouts Mak Francis over the raucous crowd. "We're here in Hasselt, Belgium at the Ethias Arena, and would you just listen to these fans!" "This Ethias Arena sure is a dump, isn't it?! But I can hear them just fine… I just can't understand any of this moonspeak they're all shouting, though. What a bunch of frog-eating--" "King. We're in Belgium." "Exactly. There was a guy talking to me in French or whatever the hell earlier and for the life of me I couldn't understand anything he was saying, I think it was something about choosing the speak the language of cowards despite not living there. It's all the same here anyway. Belgium has waffles. In fact the only thing Europe is good for is the food and beer and that's all I care about, but I can drink and eat at home." "You're a true humanitarian. But tonight--" However, the lights drop, and what begins emanating from the speakers is a guttural, all too familiar distorted warbling, unquestionably evil in its intent. "BBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" "Yeah. Great. We all know what THIS means!" grumbles Francis, as the already standing crowd immediately react with boos. "What a way to kick things off tonight, Mak! There's no better way to start off the night than by being graced with MANSON's presence! "I disagree, he isn't scheduled for time right now, but he'll do whatever he wants anyway and no one will put a stop to it. Ahh! Just so long as we get this over with," he says in a huff. One final growl kicks "Scientific Remote Viewing" by Cephalic Carnage into gear, as flashing strobes begin pulsing and smoke pours out over the stage, while darkness piercing spotlights roam the arena. The curtain parts and out walks a cloaked, masked MANSON, who begins making his way down to the ring. "I don't think I appreciate your tone and surely he doesn't either! He's doing us all a favor by opening up the show! He just sets a good mood, you know?!" "It's only doing us a favor if he explains his position and the actions he took last week." "I'll have you know he's been very upset this past week! So have some sympathy!" "What he did to Megan warrants one, but I'll believe his remorse when I see it." "Landon only brought all this on himself by continuing to duck and disacknowledge MANSON!" "In any case, let's see what he has to say in his defense, but it better be good," says Mak, as the Savage Messiah grabs a mic from the apron, having already made his way into the ring. "BBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" After brushing off his hood, MANSON brings the microphone up to face level. "I don't know where you are, Landon Maddix, but I hope you're listening… although I'm sure you are!" "From the higher-ups, to nearly everyone in the back, to those flooding the site asking for my head… They've all called what I did disgusting, unfit, awful and ugly… and they're right. The one question, though, has been 'Why?! How could you do that to her, this… delicate Megan?!" "Let me say, Landon… you just made it too easy, way too easy! Since back when Johnson and I first decided on you, making you a target… and believe what you will, that it was an order or directive… the fact is I wanted to! But since then, I've had the time of my life making your life hell, the only thing that hasn't been easy was breaking your pride and spirit. But this whole time you've played me for a chump, underestimating me, not knowing what I was capable of… until it was too late!" "See, Landon wasn't due to appear last week, he pulled out and I can take a guess as to why and you're looking at him!" shouts MANSON, as he points to himself. "I told you I could get to Landon or Megan anytime I wanted and I did it! As much as Landon hoped I couldn't go that far I proved him wrong! So while he was out making his appearances I made my move… I found where they were staying, snatched her up and brought her right to the show! And initially, although it was because she was the brains behind Landon that I turned my attention to her, it's turned into something… more." "That's eerily similar to the incident with Gabriel Drake a while back," muses Mak. "Landon just has a bad habit of letting his woman get kidnapped. He should invest in some better security." "With how easy it was to get to her, I don’t think you realize what you have here, Landon! A woman like Megan, you should take better care before someone… more willing to do what it takes decides on her. Frankly, between this relationship you two have and Megan herself, being the well behaved woman she is… as a man, I'm a little… jealous," hisses MANSON. "Aside from a few early difficulties, it was real easy just… sliding in, binding her up and bringing her to Storm! From the early evening to the time I brought her out, she was an angel… not one peep or attempt at a struggle, and maybe that's why no one had a clue!" "Yeah. Landon, she's sweet… real… sweet, a real fine woman, if you know what I mean! It's not just her brain, it's her… model perfect looks, her silky hair and smooth skin, her curves, the way she moves and walks! Why she's just my kind of woman!" "I really don't like where this is going… Someone would just cut him off right now and… what in the HELL are you doing?!" questions Mak, nearly in shock, as he glances at King. "I'm just… writing this stuff down for future reference. You know? Future. Reference." "You're both depraved, man." "As I tied Megan to the chair in the back, watching her silently as she sat in the dark, never leaving my sight and looking only at me… then later on, as I held her close, my arm around her body, real close… we looked pretty good, don’t you think?!" "BBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" "As a great man once said, I should have to pay to do that! I should have to pay to have a such a woman like that in my reach!" "This is just… way beyond anything I've seen from him before. This is beyond the pale of anything he's ever done, talking about Megan like this." "Landon… she's very… nice, you see… but here's the kicker! As I put my arm around her, grabbing her… my hand on her shoulder… holding her tight, you see, I could just tell from the look in her eyes that she was digging it, man! Especially as she began fighting, the fire in her eyes, that passion… that's the kind of woman I want! She really liked it, Landon, she was really into it! Being grabbed and thrown about, she was… hot! She REALLY liked it, I could tell1 She isn't sweet, she isn't a delicate flower… she's rough, she's depraved, she's just like me! She likes to fight and be fought! I wouldn't even have much work to do in making her something I want, she's already there! She's… a perfect ten, as you put it, right?! That's partially why I decided right there to push her to the limit! Because she likes it!" "BBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" "Now he's really gone too far!" "But would you disagree?!" "She's gorgeous, everyone knows it, but it's the fact that he goes this far in talking about her like this. What I want to know now is whether he's serious or just saying these things to get under Landon's skin even further." "Now what I want to know, Lanodn… is why she isn't mine?! Or anyone like her?! But this goes beyond the quality of our trim, Landon! Why did everything else come to you! Huh? It's everything I should've gotten and more, I was the prodigy, I was the chosen one… and then right when I was reaching up, ready to take what should be mine… in you come! A fucking coward who ducks me at every opportunity?! Who treated everyone like absolute shit while I was being the good company man, doing what he was told! When I was the one who had everything taken… my knee is shot, my neck is wrecked… when it was ME who gave EVERYTHING AND GOT NOTHING BACK FROM HERE! BUT YOU GOT EVERYTHING!" "LAN-DON!" "LAN-DON!" "LAN-DON!" "Now he's losing it, King, and now the fans are begging for Landon to come out and give him the hook." "He's right, though. He's always right!" "Landon, I've said it in the past and I'll say it again, but I'm going to take pleasure in taking it all way from you! I'm going to love cutting your throat, ripping out your heart and feeding on it and slaughtering you all over again! It's all just the tip… and if you're no longer… capable, for whatever reason… just maybe… well, I'm not telling you anything you don't already know…" "So is this his motive, finally revealed after all this time?! His jealousy?! Is he willing to admit something so… human about himself after claiming divinity all this time, and is Megan really one of his aims here, even after all he's said?!" "I don't know about that, I believe all MANSON wants is to make so Landon can no longer… walk, I suppose, and make it so he can't enjoy all those things life has brought him. He'll put Landon on the path to ruination, which as he's said, is his life's mission." "You hear the crowd, if you're back there, come out and accept the challenge before I do… something… I'll really regret!" "LAN-DON!" "LAN-DON!" "LAN-DON!" "Where is he in all this?! Are you telling me he chickened out again?! "I doubt that… I assume he's busy with other matters tonight, namely the health of Megan." "LAN-DON!" "LAN-DON!" "LAN-DON!" "You know, Landon… They're getting a little impatient and so am I after all these weeks… Where are you, Landon?! What's your answer!" "LAN-DON!" "LAN-DON!" "LAN-DON!" "I don't think he's gonna be coming out," suggests Mak. "Landon. T-This… This," he stammers. "Are… Landon. You're telling me your answer now or… rather… you're saying that after last week we're going to do this again?! Again?! Fucking AGAIN?! NO MATTER WHAT I SAY?!! NO MATTER WHAT I DO?!! LANDON! LANDON!! WHERE ARE YOU!! LANDON!! LAND--"

In the winddown phase from another crazy Winston Churchill match (lol... Winston Churchill... funny), MANSON and Michael Alexander are left in the ring. Which isn't the cause of the increased volume of murmuring around the arena, slowly turning into cheers from some sections. The section that can see what's going on, as most of the fans are being moved aside, trying to get out of the way as LANDON MADDIX has made his way through the crowd and jumps the barrier!! "YYYEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!" "Are we on!?" Mak hurriedly asks to the production guys in his earpiece, apparantly getting his answer as he then shouts, "LOOK OUT! ALL HELL IS GONNA BREAK LOOSE!" Landon slides into the ring before Alexander or MANSON can figure out what the Belgian crowd's noise is in reference to. It's Alexander who reacts first, but The Mad Scientist Of The Mat takes a quick shot from Maddix, on his way after his real target. Now hearing the cheers, not to mention the sound of his partner being bumped to the canvas, MANSON wheels around and gets tackled to the ground, Maddix mounting him and raining down with a flurry of wild lefts and rights!!! "What the hell is this!?" screams King over the roaring crowd. "This is payback! And they're a bitch for MANSON!" With the crowd routing on Maddix to extract all the revenge he can for MANSON's attack on Megan Skye last week, Michael Alexander quickly recovers and sees his partner in trouble, diving over and tackling Maddix off of him. Landon quickly kicks Alexander off. But by that time MANSON is out of the ring, arms flailing wildly as he seems to be caught in two minds over whether to dive back in or run for the exits. Sliding out of the ring, Alexander takes control of the situation and helps guide MANSON up the aisle, little resistance shown from MANSON as he watches the street-clothed Landon taking a microphone from the outside. "Congratulations! You have FINALLY crossed the god-damn line!" Pinning the microphone under his armpit, Landon gives a mock round of applause, MANSON still looking a little flustered about the sudden attack. "You know, I've had to put up weeks of questions, 'why didn't you accept MANSON's challenge?' 'Why don't you wanna face MANSON?' 'Are you afraid of MANSON?' Maybe I ought to be, sure. But plain and simple, the reason I kept turning you down and turning you down was simple. Because I damn well could! But now... see, now, things are getting out of hand all of a sudden. Turns out MANSON isn't the harmless, 'ranting and raving about absolute crap' kinda psycho that pretty much comprises half of the undercard in the SWF, oh no. Turns out you're a little more dangerous than I gave you credit for. A little more unbalanced than even I expected." Confirming as much, MANSON nods. Seemingly waiting for Landon to get to the point. The point he wants, that he's wanted all along. "Don't worry, I'm not out here to 'cry the blues'. I brought this all on myself after all. See, when you turn up at your hotel after heading out for fresh croissants to find out your closest friend's been basically kidnapped and dragged to an arena to get dropped on her head, you can't but feel you should have seen it coming. I see you all nodding out there. You've all been there." MANSON looks a little annoyed at his adversary's ability to still see some sort of funny side to all this. No matter how forced and sarcastic it may seem. "See, I'm not the tunnel-vision obsessive that you are. I am pissed, believe me. Uber pissed. Believe it or not, I've been to the kind of depths you ended up plumbing last week. Attacking women, drawing loved ones out into your traps, manipulating people to get what you want? Been there, done that. Little ol' me. Yep. So in all good conscience, I can't come out here and run you down for what you did to Megan... completely... considering my past. You know, I guess you could say this whole situation is karma at work. Well see MANSON, that's all well and good. But 'karma' already kicked my ass a long time ago and snapped me out of all that psycho crap to the error of my ways. And now, it's your turn. Karma might not be a skinny emo Limey this time, but it will kick your ass all the same, I can guarantee you that! MANSON's eyebrows perk up a little. "It is officially ON." Landon announces, finally prompting a sick smile from MANSON as he now realises for sure he's got what he wanted. "At Ground Zero, I'm going to defend my Hardcore Title like a Hardcore Gamers Champion should. And I know what you're thinking, 'Oh, look at Landon Maddix trying to be the big, bad vengeful ass-kicker Hardcore Champion, how adorable'. But this isn't about the title. It's never been about the title. I'm going to do to you what I'll do for two reasons. One, for Megan. And two, because you need it. You need some sense kicked, punched, forearmed, chopped, low-blowed, chairshotted, table-spotted, lighttube smashed, thumbtacked pierced or otherwise miscellaneously beaten into you!" "YYYYYEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!" "So, congratulations. You've won. I just hope it was worth it." Practically licking his lips, MANSON doesn't exactly seem all that worried by the threats, still delighted he's finally got what he wanted. Landon drops the mic and wipes the hair from his face, staring at the man he's agreed to face at Ground Zero.

Storm returns to a rumbling Ethias Arena, where Mak Francis and Suicide King chat up the next match. "Well, King. We're about to see a match with a bit of bad blood involved in what could be the first of many clashes between these four." "That doesn't even begin to describe it," replies King. "On one side you have two of the most awful, freakish excuses for wrestlers I've ever seen, Jimmy The Doom and Fulminatus. And on the other, you have MANSON, Hallowed be His Name, and, of course, Michael Alexander." "MANSON isn't freakish himself?! But this will be the frst time these four have set foot into the ring as opposing teams. Though, MANSON and Jimmy have a past together, with Doom usually coming out the victor, as well as their run in last year's Lethal Lottery as tag partners of all things! Then we have the New Blood Champ Fulminatus, and the man he defeated for the belt in Alexander, who as we saw last week, is having a very hard time accepting his loss," Mak clarifies." Add to that the simple fact that Winston Churchill is on a roll, while MANSON and Alexander need to come together, and in fact lost last week to a very capable Revolution Zero. One team is looking at a run to the belts, while the other merely looks to even up their tag record." "MANSON will make Jimmy The Doom history, and that's about it. You can say Jimmy won the battles, but as always, MANSON will win the war. As far as Fulminatus and Alexander go, it's obvious that weirdo tapped! He does not deserve to be champion… hell, I don't think he even knows he's champion. Alexander will eventually make good, I'm sure of it! Especially if any of MANSON's greatness rubs off on him. You can only benefit from association with him. "Try telling that to Megan Skye, King." "It wasn't his fault! It was the cowardice of Landon Maddix, that cockroach, and how befitting that name is… he scampered as soon as the heat was on. He forced MANSON into that and it resulted in an unfortunate situation. Landon Maddix has absolutely no one to blame but himself if his girlfriend is accompanying him to Ground Zero in a wheelchair." “You don't really buy that line, do you?" "If he says it, it must be so. I just hope you referred Megan to a good wheelchair manufacturer." Referee Sexton Hardcastle waits in the ring while Funyon enters, raising the mic up to his lips. "Ladies and Gentlemen, the next bout is a tag team match scheduled for one fall! First, making their way down to the ring… at a combined weight of four hundred and twenty pounds…" Suddenly the lights in the arena are cut and silence reigns on all. Breaking the quiet atmosphere, loud, bombastic orchestral music begins to play. A song so majestic it makes “O Fortuna” seem like elevator music. Bursts of black pyro erupt continuously from the ring posts throughout the song! *BOOM* *BOOM* *BOOM* *BOOM* “MANSON help us, here they come again…” King groans. The SmarkTron is filled with images of everything imaginable: atomic bombs erupting, babies crying, emus attempting to fly, an Edsel, the Challenger explosion, a map of San Juan Capistrano, California, the Panama Canal, that video of the bulldog skateboarding, an old man drinking lager, amputees playing snooker, and many other things of a grandiose nature. More black pyro erupts from the entrance ramp from the ring up to the stage. *BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM* *BOOM* The crowd is very confused at this point, having no clue what this overly elaborate entrance is supposed to signify. There are explosions of black pyro everywhere on the stage as the music comes to its climax. *BOOM* *BOOM* *BOOM* *BOOM* Then as the music fades out from its final triumphant note, the trapdoor on the stage opens up and a huge flock of white doves emerges and heads for the rafters, creating a beautiful spectacle. The Belgian fans cheer wildly as the beautiful display comes to an end. “Somebody needs to lose their job after okaying this insanity,” King grumbles. The guy okaying it is the boss, so I don’t think he'll be reprimanding himself," Mak replies. "Still, I can't help but think there's got to be some law against the release of wildlife in enclosed and crowded arena." As the last few doves emerge from the trapdoor, a huge image fades to the screen of the SmarkTron. The huge grimacing feature of Winston Churchill looms on the screen, its doughy majesty apparent. Suddenly, upon the image a large curly mustache begins to grow from his upper lip and a long pointy beard sprouts from his chin. The eyes also begin to glow bright red in a most eerie manner. “That still creeps me out,” Mak admits, shuddering slightly. “The mustache and beard from a Dudley Do-Right cartoon villain knockoff scares you?” King laughs. “Actually, it’s Winston Churchill.” Mak whispers. "Who?!" "Winston C-- Nevermind." "Last I checked ol' Winston didn't have glowing eyes. Or maybe he did. In any case that's MANSON's thing!" As the image remains, a spotlight illuminates the figure that has risen from beneath the stage. It is of the largest species of rodent, the capybara. It’s name: C.A.P.Y.B.A.R.A. (Computerized Automaton Processing Yield Benefit Analysis Rodent Abacist), and he looks majestic. Before the crowd has the time to react to the puzzling creature, a shower of gold sparks fall from the ceiling as Tiny Tim begins to sing “Tiptoe Through the Tulips.” From the back, out step Fulminatus and Jimmy The Doom. “That thing is a menace!” King snarls. “Did you see what that overgrown rat tried to do last week? I barely escaped with my life. I can’t believe they let them bring it out again.” The two wrestlers proudly, and slowly walk down to the ring, having to keep in step with C.A.P.Y.B.A.R.A. who is in none to much of a hurry. Jimmy proudly sports the brand new officially licensed Winston Churchill t-shirt, beneath his signature, though little worn leather vest simply covered in fringe. On the back of said vest, there is also the official Winston Churchill logo, with the facial hair fashioned out of vest fringe. To his credit, Fulminatus is also showing team spirit, having the officially licensed Winston Churchill mousepad duct-taped to his chest. On the SmarkTron, the screen is filled with images of both Jimmy the Doom and Fulminatus modeling the official merchandise for their tag team. In one shot they are sitting at a table both wearing the Winston Churchill t-shirts and drinking from the Winston Churchill coffee mugs. Another shot has them barbecuing, both sporting the Winston Churchill barbecue aprons, with C.A.P.Y.B.A.R.A. also sporting his. There is even a shot of a clearly male ass wearing the Winston Churchill thong, but it is unclear whose tuckus this might be. “Gah!” King shrieks in horror. “I can’t believe they kept the thong in the video!” Mak shields his eyes wisely. “Looks like we should be prepared for this as a regular thing… I guess.” The three warriors finally make their way down to the ring and Funyon looks at his watch and then continues, “Accompanied by C.A.P.Y.B.A.R.A… The NEW BLOOD CHAMPION, FULLLLMINATUS and hailing from Doomopolis, Doomtopia… JIMMY THE DOOOOOOOOOOOM… WINSTOOOOOONNNN CHURRRRRCHILLLLLL!!" “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” Before entering the ring, Fulminatus leads C.A.P.Y.B.A.R.A. around by the announcers’ table and attempts to tie his leash to the guardrail. King snarls, “Not over here! Not again! You tie up your giant rat somewhere else, dammit!” Fulminatus looks a little hurt, but dutifully leads C.A.P.Y.B.A.R.A. to a railing about 15 feet from the announcers’ table. King sighs in relief. “Thank MANSON! That thing is at least at a safe distance.” “They really are harmless, King.” “That’s just what they’d like you to think, Francis. But we need to destroy this… infection before it spreads! Winston Churchill is a bad rash, like the one I got when we were in Tijuana… the worst five bucks I ever spent!" Funyon blares once again, as Winston Churchill goes about securing their creature to the railing. "And their opponents, weighing in at a combined weight of four hundred and fifty-one pounds…" he booms, as the arena lights drop, cueing a familiar guttural, distorted warbling from the speakers, when… "ATTACK!" Devin Townsend's "Ziltoidia Attaxx!!!" kicks off, the thick, heavy tune accompanied by flashing strobes and spotights which roam the arena. The SmarkTron lights up with images of Vitruvian Man interspersed with shots of MANSON and Michael Alexander. "People of Earth… we are your Ziltoidian overlords… …resistance… is futile…" The crowd boos on command as the two enter, with Michael Alexander taking the lead and MANSON following behind, as Funyon continues. "First, from Greenville, South Carolina, USA… MMMMIIIIIIIICHAELLLLL AAAAAALLLLLEXANDERRRRRR! And his partner, hailing from Denver, Colorado, USA… MMMMMMMMAAAAAANNNNNSOOOONNNN!" While Alexander berates those ringside, MANSON follows along silently, his eyes darting around the arena, taking in the surroundings from behind his mask and chains rattling nonetheless. They each roll into the ring, and while Alexander immediately moves on to their corner, the Messiah pulls out the metal bat from beneath his cloak. He begins stomping about the ring, waving the bat high in the air, while Winston Churchill look on from the outside. Hardcastle manages to calm him down, convincing him to drop it to the outside while Alexander watches with a bemused smirk. Finally MANSON backs away, discarding the mask and cloak, as well, placing both over the post and preparing for the match. Meanwhile, Jimmy and Fulminatus seemingly confer with C.A.P.Y.B.A.R.A. about something. “They’re… They’re talking to that thing,” King says in a hushed, almost frightened tone. “MANSON help us all, they’re TALKING TO IT!” Mak’s eyes widen. “I’m almost inclined to agree with you, King. I mean, we knew these two were not strictly sane, but this…” “Not strictly sane?! They’re talking to a giant rat! And before this, Jimmy made friends with a damn badger! They call themselves Winston Churchill! Thank MANSON that He’s here to protect us, Francis!” “I wouldn’t go that far, King.” “Suit yourself,” King remarks smugly. “That rat is closer to you now anyway, and I’m betting you can’t outrun it.” King scoots his chair just enough to avoid Mak’s inevitable smack. "As for me, I'll stick with the winning team." MANSON stalks around the ring as Alexander exits, leaving the opening action to the Stampede. Jimmy the Doom and Fulminatus seem to have finished their discussion with their managerial rodent and they climb into the ring. Both men then look inquiringly at C.A.P.Y.B.A.R.A., which seems to be fascinated by the apron, chewing on the end. The two men then nod to each other, with Jimmy the Doom stepping out of the ring. “This is getting more absurd by the second, Francis,” King grumbles. “It’s like they’re looking to that rat for some sort of signal or something.” “Well…I really don’t know what to tell you, King. It is listed as their manager.” “WHAT?! Since when do we give managerial licenses to animals anyway.” Before Hardcastle can even ring the bell, MANSON pounces on Fulminatus with a flurry of blows to the head, neck, and back, basically beating him straight down to the mat. Jimmy appears as if he's ready to come in, but glances as the ringside rodent and nods, remaining in his corner. *DING! DING!* “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” "Thank you, MANSON! Hallowed be thy Name!" shouts King, praising the Messiah with his outstretched arms. “He's definitely starting off in classic form… he's basically pounding Fulmie into the dirt here.” Fulminatus tries to clamber back to his feet, but the God Machine is utterly relentless, dropping onto Fulminatus' back, pummeling him with a series of punches to the back of the head. The Cruiserweight Chaos Engine covers up with his hands, but soon enough, Hardcastle steps in to warn MANSON about the closed fists. He rises with a snarl directed in Hardcastle's direction, who backs away quickly. "Hardcastle is thankfully keeping an eye on those fists, and so should MANSON," Mak points out. "We were all watching those fists," King remarks. "I was happily watching them smash into Fulminatus' skull." The Raging Bull turns back to Fulminatus, who makes it up to a knee. Grinning wickedly, MANSON grabs and roughly hoists him back up to his feet, locking his arms around the mid-section with a bear hug. The Savage Messiah wrenches the hapless cruiserweight up in the hold up to nearly shoulder height, then plants him down into the mat with a thunderous belly-to-belly slam and going for a pin! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” "ONE!" "A kickout by Fulminatus! He's showing a lot of gumption here and is proving to be a tough customer even after all this pounding at the hands of MANSON." "For the lot of good it'll do him, Mak. He's about a million years too early for this, but like all great deities MANSON does not POUND people. He SMITES them." MANSON grabs Alexander by the leg, dragging him like a broken doll to his team's corner, where Alexander waits with a smirk of satisfaction on his face. MANSON tags in the Evil Genius, then pins Fulminatus' leg to the mat. Alexander then flips over the top with a Tope Atomico onto the leg! Fulminatus howls in pain and Alexander rolls up to his feet, grinning and posing for the crowd. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” "It appears as if MANSON and Michael Alexander have worked a bit on that teamwork thing after their loss to Revolution Zero," Mak observes. "This could be a sign of things to come for these two." "Last week is a fluke, Mak. The Revolution was able to capitalize on Alexander's inexperience, that's all. All messiahs sometimes have to help their disciples work past their flaws. He will rebuild Alexander… make him better, stronger, faster…" "That's 'The Six Million Dollar Man' King." "He'll be worth Six Million when MANSON is through; if the Messiah were to be bound by our rudimentary and outdated monetary system, that is. All he needs to work miracles is MANSONOSITY." The Deconstruction Dynamo tries to use the ropes to pull himself away from his opponents' corner, but Alexander catches him before he gets to far with a vicious stomp to the back of the head. He pulls Fulminatus' right leg again and drags him closer to the center of the ring, where he steps over the leg, spinning around into a toe hold, but he doesn't stop there. He scissors the leg between his own at the maximum torque, then reaches forward and pulls Fulminatus’ into a front facelock while holding the leg scissors. Alexander then rolls over onto his right side, maintaining both holds on his opponent. Muffled groans of suffering escape from Fulminatus as he begins flailing his right arm, eventually focusing his efforts on some light and ultimately ineffectual punches to Alexander's ribs. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “Alexander locks in the Ouroboros!” Mak shouts. “Now tap out, you freak!” King snaps. Jimmy looks worried, and glances out to C.A.P.Y.B.A.R.A. Apparently he see something that no one else does in the blank stare of the shuffling rodent, because he bursts into the ring with furious speed and kicks Alexander hard in the spine. The Evil Genius yelps in pain and the hold is loosened enough for the nimble Fulminatus to wriggle free. Referee Hardcastle immediately rushes to get him out of the ring, and Jimmy does so with alacrity. “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” “Jimmy finally enters the match and breaks up the Ouroboros! But Fulminatus still needs to make that tag.” King growls. “Bah, they’re just prolonging the inevitable, Francis. MANSON always prevails. These two jokes should just give it up now. Although I hope they don’t, because I love to watch MANSON work.” Alexander regains his feet quickly after the attack, and notices that Fulminatus is pulling himself up on the ropes, his right leg wobbly. The Mad Scientist drives a series of forearms into the head of his opponent, rocking him. An Irish whip sends Fulminatus stumbling into the far ropes. Alexander goes for a back elbow smash, but the Deconstruction Dynamo seems to stagger under it, and as Alexander turns, he flips over backwards at the Evil Genius, connecting with a knee right to the face! Alexander crumples to the mat as Fulminatus flops down nearly on top of him. “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” “Alexander missed with that elbow, and Fulminatus, true to form, comes up with a truly unique counter to Alexander’s attack.” Mak nods in appreciation. “You’ve got to at least give him a break on that. Nobody does more off-kilter moves than Fulminatus.” “Sure, his moveset is just as schizo as the rest of him. I’ll agree to that,” King snipes. Unfortunately, Fulminatus used his right knee for that impact, and he rolls away holding the back of his leg. Seemingly by luck as by anything else, the Cruiserweight Chaos Engine rolls into his own corner, and Jimmy the Doom reaches down and hits a hot tag! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” “The tag is made, and in comes Jimmy the Doom!” Mak slaps the table in excitement. “It just keeps getting worse…” King groans. The Straight Bread Sensation leaps in over the top rope and charges at Alexander, who has just regained his feet after being stunned by the backflip knee. Jimmy leaps forward and twists in the air, hitting Alexander squarely in the jaw with the back of his elbow. The Mad Scientist careens to the mat, nearly flipping over completely before he hits. Jimmy pops back up to his feet quickly, screaming a confused jumble of words in no particular order. “RRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” “Jimmy with a flying corkscrew elbow! Alexander got turned inside out by that one, King!” “Not as inside-out as this guy’s English. Hell, even these Belgians can’t understand him!” As Doom calls for a confused Alexander to stand, MANSON rushes into the ring and goes after Jimmy, but is halted by a thrust kick to the face! MANSON drops down to the mat, covering up his mouth with the inside of his forearm but pops back up to his feet. He stumbles in place, searching frantically for Doom, who appears beside him and grabs him by the wrist. He flings MANSON across the ring, hitting the adjacent ropes and looking to take him down, but out of nowhere Alexander makes the save, cutting Doom off at the pass with a spinning back elbow of his own! As MANSON drops out of the ring, Doom gets up on one knee but Alexander knocks him silly with a charging knee to the side of the head! "Alexander snuffs the rally as quickly as it began with a knee to the cranium!" shouts Mak, as Doom writhes on the mat. As Jimmy attempts to roll onto his stomach to push himself up off the mat, Alexander instead grabs him by the ankle and with a strategically placed foot to the back of the knee, stomps him leg first into the mat! As Doom rolls around in pain some more, Alexander chooses to bring him back up this time, whipping him into his team's corner. He follows with a clothesline, opting to keep Doom pinned to the turnbuckle with his arm, then tagging in MANSON! "And MANSON is back in the ring, no doubt angry after Doom disposed of him earlier." "It was all his plans, Mak!" The Messiah drops to the floor, grabbing Doom by the ankles. As Alexander releases him, MANSON trips up Doom, bringing him down to the mat, then pulls him out slightly, leaving his legs dangling on the outside. He next grabs the ankle, yanking on the leg and wrapping the injured appendage around the post! "This could easily tear up a knee!" "It certainly could." "I'm saying that given his history, it looks as if he's trying to seriously injure Doom." Hardcastle forces Alexander out of the ring in the meantime, while MASNON slides back in. As the Bull distracts the referee just enough, Alexander also drops down and repeats the process, again slamming Doom's leg into the hard steel! "And Alexander follows up with the same tactic!" "It's the quickest, most efficient way to get to their goal, after all, so I'm not seeing what the problem is. It only goes to show how best to utilize all portions of the ring. You weren't adverse to it when you could walk anyway." "You tend to see things differently when someone puts you in a wheelchair." "In any case they're rather indiscriminate with this strategy. No matter who you are it'll have an effect, so I can't say I disagree." Doom hobbles up to his feet while MANSON sidesteps Hardcastle and make a dive, clipping Jimmy at the knee! He collapses down to the mat and MANSON goes for a cover. "ONE! TWO!" "Shoulder up!" shouts Mak. MANSON stands and staring down at Doom, he begins laying in soccer kicks to the sides, the toe of his boot driving deep into the ribs of his opponent. Doom rolls away from the assault, but makes a mistake in turning his back to the Stampede, who charges forth… *CRACK!* -and punts him in the spine! Jimmy cringes from the impact, but again… *CRACK!* -he lays in another kick to the back! *CRACK!* -and hits another for good measure. Jimmy falls to his side, reaching for Fulminatus clear across the ring, but instead, MANSON pulls him up again… *CRACK!* *CRACK!* *CRACK!* -and lays in three more quick ones to the lumbar! "He's going to town on a prone Jimmy right now, laying in those kicks with abandon!" says Mak as Jimmy falls off to the side once more. "But what happened to the teamwork and strategy earlier, is this MANSON letting his temper take hold once again?! Wait!" shouts Mak. "Here comes another cover!" "ONE TWO!" "And another shoulder up!" "Well, whether it's the knee, or the back, if you manage to critically damage either one then you're done for. If you take away both, then you're super done for." "Super done for?!" "That's twice the done for." "And it was some decent analysis until you said it, too." Grabbing hold of Doom's leg, MANSON pulls him back over to his corner, where he tags in Alexander once again and releases Doom. Alexander grips the top rope and prepares to vault in much like before. However, this time as he launches himself, Doom gets his left leg up and catches the Mad Scientist with a boot to the back of the head! "And Jimmy may get out of this before too much damage is done! MANSON made a critical mistake in not securing Doom!" "He works in mysterious ways, Mak." "In actuality, this has long been one of his problems inside the ring, and if Alexander doesn't recover and Jimmy tags in a fresh Fulminatus, this may turn into another losing effort!" Alexander stumbles about the ring, searching for his bearings, as Jimmy crawls closer and closer to Fulminatus, who reaches out for the tag! However, unbeknownst to everyone, a freight train steps into the ring and charges straight at Fulminatus, knocking him off the apron with a Lariat in an instant! "BBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" "He just stormed across the ring and prevented the tag to Fulminatus! That must be a disqualification!" "That’s only if he disobeys Hardcastle's instructions to get out." Hardcastle attempts to regain order by directing MANSON out of the ring, who instead grabs Doom by the leg and forcefully yanks him back into their territory. As he finally exits and Hardcastle returns back to the action, he finds Alexander staggering toward Doom. The Evil Genius grabs Jimmy by the leg and despite Doom's attempts to fight back, turns him over into a half Boston crab! "When MANSON dragged Doom back to their corner he should have been DQ'd but we all know Hardcastle isn't the most scrupulous of officials." "It just means he knows his place when in the ring with MANSON and Alexander." "Now Alexander now has that half crab locked in tight!" As Alexander sits back, Doom screams in agony, but struggles for the ropes still. Pushing up off his hands, he attempts to gain leverage, but finds none as the Professor of Pain only sinks his weight and sits deeper into the hold, always keeping a firm grip on the leg of Jimmy as he does so. "He still has the hold locked on, but as all know Jimmy is tough, being the longest reigning Hardcore Champion of all time, so he can put up with this." "Even if he fights out of it now he won't be long for this world. Turn out the lights, he's done!" While Jimmy keeps struggling, grunting as he reaches for the ropes in between yelps of pain from the wrenching hold, Alexander continually positions his body, as well, keeping Jimmy away from the ropes. On the apron, the Messiah looks on with a smug and satisfied expression, as Alexander keeps Doom firmly in the middle of the ring. "Regardless, he's still not giving it up, King, despite having his knee wrenched and continually exhausting himself by trying to get to the ropes." Finally, having had enough, Alexander stands and turns Doom back over. Jimmy goes for a kick, narrowly missing Alexander, who keeps Doom in his grasp. Then, dropping back, he plants the injured leg of Doom into the mat! "He impacts Doom's leg straight into the hard mat with a DDT! That's a good way to do some real damage to the knee." Doom lets out a yelp and grabs his knee, when suddenly… "What the hell is that thing doing in the ring?!" shouts King, as C.A.P.Y.B.A.R.A runs into the ring, circling around Alexander's feet as the Evil Genius attempts to dance away from the creature. "I have no idea, but… wait, where's Fulminatus?!" Mak asks, as right then, he crawls out from underneath the ring and slides inside. While Hardcastle's back is turned, he first goes toward MANSON, knocking him off the apron in retaliation. He then heads for Alexander and grabs him by the back of the head, impacting him face first against his knees as he drops down back first to the mat. Alexander falls back, grabbing his jaw, as Fulminatus drags Doom back across the ring to his corner. After Hardcastle succeeds in tying C.A.P.Y.B.A.R.A back up to the rail, he turns as Doom makes the tag to Fulminatus! "Tag in to Fulminatus! Tag in to Fulminatus!" "You support this nonsense?! Fulminatus clearly used that thing as a distraction! It's unfair! It's wrong!" Hardcastle singnals the tag as Fulminatus jumps into the ring, looking for Alexander as he stands back up and hitting a jawbreaker which again stuns Alexander! MANSON steps into the ring steaming and goes for Fulminatus, but receives a dropkick to the face, sending him rolling out of the ring. While Alexander dances around the ring, the Chaos Engine sends him to the ropes and on the rebound, leaps up and catches him with a headscissors, taking him over with the Seek ye the Eye of the Hurricanrana! "Fulminatus is taking this match into his own hands now, King!" "I hate this! It's not fair!" Again Alexander comes up dazed and confused, and placing him in a standing headscissors, Fulminatus signals to the crowd. "RRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!" He wraps his arms around Alexander's waist, preparing to lift him up, but again MANSON comes into the ring, and charging toward Alexander, rolls forward and boots him in the face with his heel! "Koppou Kick! MANSON makes contact with a Koppou Kick!" screams Mak, as Fulminatus goes down, releasing Alexander and clutching his nose. "This thing is breaking down, Hardcastle has lost control!" "And once again MANSON saves the day!" As MANSON stands and looms over Fulminatus near the ropes, in comes Jimmy The Doom, who takes himself and his opponent onto the floor with an over the top clothesline! "They both spill out to the outside!" Inside the ring, Fulminatus stands, as does Alexander, who is first to attack as he heads for the Chaos Engine. However, Fulminatus has a plan, as he pins the arms of Alexander back with his feet and stretches out over the ropes, grabbing the legs as he dangles outside. "TARANTULA BY FULMINATUS!" shouts Francis, as Alexander screams. "But he has to release this before five," King explains. "ONE! TWO! THREE FOUR!" Fulminatus releases the hold and as Alexander drops to his knees, he begins ascending the turnbuckle. On the outside, after both Doom and MANSON come to, he and Jimmy exchange fists before a well placed kick to the knee by MANSON! Doom reacts by grabbing his leg, which enables a whip… *CLANG!* -right into the steel steps, as Jimmy collides knees first! "JIMMY INTO THE STEPS!" Fulminatus is distracted by the loud clang and the sight of his tag partner lying on the outside, which enables enough time by Alexander to recover as he disrupts Fulminatus, crotching him on the turnbuckle! Wrapping an arm around Fulminatus' head, Alexander takes him off the turnbuckle… "DDT OFF THE TOP!" shouts Mak in disbelief. "He just got spiked!" "See?! What did I tell you, Mak?!" King asks smugly, as Alexander goes for the pin. "ONE! TWO!!!! THREEEEE!!!!!" *DING DING!* "YOUR WINNERS…" booms Funyon, as their theme hits, "THE TEAM OF MANSON AND MIIIICHAEL ALEXANDERRRR!" "A DDT off the top and some of lady luck gets the win for MANSON and Alexander!" "They don't need luck when you have MANSONOSITY and the skills of Alexander!" "In any case, they beat out the other new team of Fulminatus and Jimmy The Doom in impressive fashion, in what's sure to be a landmark moment for this new partnership," says Mak, as MANSON heads back into the ring for the celebration.

Funyon: “And now, ladies and gentlemen, it is time for the House of Marvelous, and your host, Sir Marvelous!” BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Sir Marvelous, already in the ring for time constraints, looks at the crowd with disdain. Marvelous: “I do say, the feeling is mutual. My guest this evening is one of Mr. Bruner’s favorites. Isn’t that right, Mr. Bruner?” Tracey Bruner stands perfectly still, failing to show any emotion whatsoever. Marvelous: “He is the reigning SWF International Champion, and in just one week’s time he will unify it with Alan Clark’s World Heavyweight Title. He is ‘The Dean of Professional Wrestling’ … JAAAAAAAAAAAAY HAWWWWWWWWWKE!” BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! “Learning to Fly” by Pink Floyd comes on the PA, and the International Champion, decked out in a beautiful three piece beige suit, makes his way to the ring. Francis: “Here is a man who is one week away from the biggest match of his professional career, King.” King: “Hawke has had a few opportunities at taking that championship before, Mak, but never at as big a stage as Ground Zero. That’s a huge stage and a huge opportunity that I guarantee you he won’t squander.” Mr. Bruner opens the velvet rope for Hawke, and he makes his way to the set, sitting on the luxurious couch in such a fashion as to assure the International Championship belt is being flaunted. Marvelous: “Jay, it is one week away. You’ve got your opportunity at becoming the SWF World Heavyweight Champion in what will be the final appearance of that belt that is currently sitting around your waist.” Hawke: “And a dignified gentleman such as yourself knows exactly how much that championship belt means. It means prestige. It means money.” Marvelous: “Money’s good.” Hawke: “Money’s very good. Do you know how much money I made my first month as International Champion?” Marvelous: “No, I must admit I don’t.” Hawke: “Over 110,000 dollars. Multiply that by nine months as champion, and that’s 990,000 dollars for one title reign, and that was as what was perceived as a second tier title. Imagine how much I could make as World Champion.” Marvelous: “The number is potentially incredible.” Hawke: “But there is one thing that is more important than the money.” Marvelous: “The women?” Hawke: “There is that. But I’m talking about the recognition that championship brings you as the best wrestler in the world. For two and a half years, I have been the best technical wrestler in the world. I have been in the match of the night at Genesis two years in a row. But without that championship belt, a lot of people here…the non-believers…think Toxxic or Alan Clark or El Luchador Magnifico or even Landon Maddix must be better because they’ve had that championship belt. So next week, I will take that championship belt from Alan Clark and put it around my waist where it belongs. No more will the SWF be seen as some Mickey Mouse operation. So Clark, bring Donald and Goofy if you want. Bring the Pirates of the Caribbean if you’re so inclined. Have Tinker Bell sprinkle pixie dust on you if you think it will help. Because at Ground Zero, not even Scrooge McDuck’s money will buy you the victory. Prepare to say goodbye to your championship.” “Learning to Fly” comes over the PA as Sir Marvelous and Jay Hawke stand and shake hands. King: “Did you hear that, Mak? He sounds ready for action here!” Francis: “He is clearly focused, King, but Alan Clark is not going to be a pushover.” King: “Oh, don’t get me wrong, Mak. I’m expecting a fantastic match as part of the main event of Ground Zero. But in the end, who do you really think is going to get the victory?” Francis: “Whoever gets the three count first.” King: “Smartass.” Francis: “More great action still to come after the break.”

Sly vs. Kibs =

Tom Flesher hears a whistling, and looks up. It’s approaching towards the outer office where his secretary sits, and for some reason Tom gets the impression that the person doing the whistling is doing it not to express happiness, or because they can’t get a certain tune out of their head, but because they are aware it might irritate others in the vicinity. He spends a few idle moments narrowing down the options, and when he realises it still leaves him with about half the roster as possibilities kills a few seconds more by wondering if the person in question is going to be dropping in to see him. It’s really not a bet worth taking, even with himself… …and sure enough the outer door opens. His secretary starts to say something, then stops in the middle of her first word. Clearly this is someone who’s ignored her so many times before she can’t be bothered to continue now… *knock-knock* “Little pig, little pig, let me come in...” “Will the word ‘no’ actually do me any good?” Flesher responds, crossing to his drinks cabinet. The prospect of a conversation with Toxxic tends to do that to him, not that he really needs an excuse. “No,” Toxxic answers, opening the door and poking his head round before his body follows suit, “but hey, a bit of levity never hurt anyone.” “Levity? Is that what you call that abomination of a promo you did last week?” Flesher asks, mind going back to the PowerPoint presentation Revolution Zero used the Smarktron for, “honestly Toxxic, I-” he turns around and sees that actually, it’s not just Toxxic; Austin Sly, The Fabulous Jakey and Amy Stephens are all here as well. “Oh, what, you travel in a pack now?” the SWF’s Commissioner says with a note of resignation in his voice. “Tom, can you deny us our group camaraderie?” Toxxic asks, while Amy mouths the word ‘camaraderie?’ uncomprehendingly behind his back and Sly inspects the furnishings, “especially since, Tom, you’re going to have us all out there for the main event, handcuffed to the railings!” “Toxxic,” Tom says, thinking he can see where this is going, “this is the SWF, not some free-for-all indy set-up. Now, I had no problem with you guys beating down on Wild & Dangerous a bit last week because… well, they’re Wild & Dangerous and quite frankly, they’re annoying,” he declares. “But that doesn’t mean I want my company to be plagued by run-ins and inconclusive finishes, so-” “Name us one match we’ve interfered in,” Austin Sly says, cutting him off. “OK, Jakey beat Landon when MANSON stuck his nose in, but MANSON’s not with us. The ass-kicking we gave him last week should have shown you that,” the Sly One adds with a grin. “I don’t want my company to start being plagued by run-ins and inconclusive finishes,” Flesher tells him, keeping his voice level with an effort, “so I’m putting preventative measures in for occasions where there’s a previous history. And since you all put the boot in on Wildchild and Johnny last week…” he trails off, shrugging his shoulders as if to suggest that there’s absolutely nothing that can be done. “Hey, what’s this?” Jakey asks, poking something on a shelf. “That’s my Wrestler of the Year Award,” Flesher snaps, snatching it away from him. “Oh hey, yeah, I’ve got one of them,” Toxxic grins, sauntering over and peering at it, “I think mine’s bigger though…” Flesher opens his mouth to rebuke him, then hears a glug from behind him and turns to witness a sight of true horror. “PUT THAT DOWN!” he bellows, striding across his office and whipping the bottle from Amy Stephens’ lips, “do you have any idea how expensive that is?” “Eurgh, man, that mings,” Amy grimaces, “what the fuck’s that shit?” “It’s Glenfarclas 17 year-old Scotch whisky!” Flesher hisses, “it does not ‘ming’, but then I wouldn’t expect anything else from someone who drinks Stella Artois!” He rounds on Toxxic. “What do you want?” “Look Tom, about the main event,” Toxxic starts, “it’s very important you tell the Security monkeys that they cuff my left hand to the barrier,” he points to his left hand, just in case Flesher has forgotten which is which, “not the right,” and he points to the right one, just in case Flesher has a short memory. “You see, I might need the right one,” he points again, probably just to be an arse, “later tonight… if you know what I mean,” he adds with a leer. “I don’t want to know about that!” Flesher snaps. “I’M GOING TO BE WRITING A LETTER TO MY DEAR OLD MUM!” Toxxic roars in reply, but is unable to prevent a grin creeping across his face, “Honestly Tom, you’re sick, what the hell did you think I meant-” “ENOUGH!” Flesher yells, prompting the entire Revolution to cower backwards. “OOOO-OOOO-OOOOOHHHHHH!” Unconvincingly. “I might just tell them to cuff both hands to the barrier, to be sure,” Flesher snaps, “but if you haven’t got anything even remotely interesting to say, and I can’t imagine why you’d break the habit of a career now, get out of my office!” “Wild & Dangerous,” Toxxic replies. “What?” “He said, ‘Wild & Dangerous’,” Jakey puts in helpfully. “I heard what he said,” Flesher replies, not taking his eyes from the straight-edger in front of him, “I just need to know we’re doing more than playing a game of ‘name the tag team’ before I deign to respond.” “They have an open contract,” Austin Sly tells the Commissioner, “we have nothing booked in for Ground Zero, and you need a Tag Title defence organised for the Pay-Per-View.” He shrugs. “Kind of books itself, doesn’t it?” “How do you know someone else hasn’t already signed that contract?” Flesher sniffs. “Because I nicked it off your desk just now and checked,” Sly informs him, bringing the clipboard out from behind his back. Tom Flesher rolls his eyes. “I’m tempted to say no, on the basis that you’re all damn annoying,” Flesher grunts, “but sure, if you fancy being beaten by the married couple again, knock yourselves out.” “We would, if we did fancy being beaten by them again,” Toxxic tells him as he and Sly produce pens, “but since we don’t, we’ll just settle for knocking them out instead.” “Toxxic, one more bad pun and I’m ripping that contract up,” Flesher threatens as the two Revolutionaries make their respective marks, then hand it back to the Commissioner. “Now do me a favour for once, and clear off.” “Jawohl, mein Kapitan,” the Englishman replies, “du hast einen Kopfkase.” And Revolution Zero leave the office, with Tom Flesher staring after them. “Europeans,” Flesher mutters, and takes an absent-minded mouthful of the Glenfarclas. “Damn, that’s good…”

Leaf vs. Killa =

Tom Flesher runs his hands through his hair before leaning back in his leather chair, taking in a deep breath, and crumbles the piece of paper, the apparent source of his frustration, in his hands. He carefully takes aim and goes to shoot it into the trash can but it’s sent horribly off-course as an obnoxious knock on the door begins that causes Flesher to groan. “Come in, Dagda,” he says while listening to Dagda’s annoying knocking, knowing the inevitable- “Hang on, Tommy Boy, I’m not done yet,” he says before rushing the knocking tune, swinging the door open. He beams a wide grin before asking, “Can you name that tune?” “Don’t call me,” he begins to say but his voice trails off since it’s an act of futility. He thinks back to their last encounter and replies, “Bohemian Rhapsody?” “Damn,” Dagda mumbles, “I was thinking of ‘Twinkle, Twinkle.’ Anyway, I got your memo?” “I didn’t send you a memo,” he slowly says, mulling over in his head why he could possibly want to see him. Dagda steps forward and shamelessly swipes the papers off the corner of the desk, plopping onto it, and looking down at Flesher’s ash tray, pack of Camels, and a lighter. “Oh, so I can smoke then?” Dagda asks to Flesher’s slow nodding. He grins once again while reaching over, snatching a cigarette from Flesher’s pack, and lighting it with his lighter. “So you never sent a memo, Flesh’ah?” “No.” Dagda looks down at his hand with the reminder “Annoy Flesher” etched in pen. He facetiously slaps himself on his forehead before explaining, “Of course, how could I have forgotten, it’s almost Ground Zero, yes?” “Right,” Flesher says with a long sigh because the conversation’s inevitably going downhill. “So, how’s the contract coming?” “What contract?” Flesher asks, getting smoke blown into his face from his own cigarette. “Last time I came in, man, I gave you a contract for a title shot!” “It was a blank piece of paper, Dagda,” Tom coldly replies. Dagda shoots at him as if he’s judging his intelligence, or lack there of. “Yes, yes it was… that’s why I was seeing how the work was coming along.” “Dagda, first off…” Flesher stops before blurting, “I don’t know where to start.” “Ye’ of little faith, Daddy Dagda can take any title shot and turn it into gold... well, ” “What title did you have in mind?” Flesher questions him in an act of appeasement. “Well,” Dagda says while sarcastically sinisterly rubbing his hands together. “I have always fancied the Cruiserweight Championship.” Flesher stares before replying, “I think you’re a bit over the weight restrictions.” Dagda simply shrugs at these unfounded allegations. “If my superior talent and drawin’ power is in question then beggars can’t be choosers, Tom-Tom, at the end of the day- if you’re so skeptical about me then I’ll take what you’ll throw my way. Hell, I’ll embarrass whoever you throw my way. Now, I’m not a cocky guy.” “Of course not,” Flesher mutters. “But any title shot, anytime, anyone, any stipulation, any place, anytime, anyone… shit, I’m being repetitive, aren’t I?” “I get it,” Flesher says. “I’ll see what I can do, Dagda.” “Good, good,” Danny says while enthusiastically slapping his hands on his desk. He hops off the desk and flicks the lit cigarette into Flesher’s filled trash bin while turning around to give a guilty glance back at him. He flings the door shut but it swings open a crack and he yells back, “Daddy Dagda gets it done, Fleshy, Daddy Dagda gets it done damn well!”

As the advertisements for Pepsi Max and The Simpsons Movie ends, SWF fans worldwide hear the booming voice of Mak Francis over the airwaves as the house lights go down in the background while the cameras pan the capacity (as always) crowd. "...and welcome back everyone to SWF Storm! We're staring off the in-ring action tonight with a bang as long-time veteran Todd deKindes takes on the debuting Jesse James Sanders -" "...the farmboy," the Suicide King interrupts as Funyon enters the ring. " - yes, he's from Kansas. A farm in Kansas. Also, he's young. Thus, a farmboy. However, he's also known as quite an accomplished wrestler on the independent scene." "I still don't get why we're bringing new goofs up on to worldwide television," mutters Sucide King. "We've got eighty-seven billion past champions, call some of them up. I mean, we've got superheroes, clowns, and whatever the hell Fulminatus is. Now, a farmboy?" "Hey, don't forget CIA," remarks Mak. "Don't remind me." "Anyway, now that King has gotten bug out of his ass, let's go to Funyon in the ring." "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to SWF Storm! The following match is set for one fall with a twenty minute time limit. Introducing first, already in the ring, from Toronto, Ontario, Canada..." Obligatory pro-Canada pop for no good reason. "...weighing in at two hundred and forty five pounds, TOOOOOOD DEKIIIIIINDES!" The long-time veteran of the SWF raises his hand to a mild mixed pop from the Belgian crowd. "Introducing his opponent..." The house lights dim across the arena as the bluesy rock sounds of Kenny Wayne Shepards 'Blue on Black' begins to blast over the arena. "...from Lawrence, Kansas, weighing in at two hundred and sixty-eight pounds, making his SWF debut, JESSEEEEEE JAAAAAAMES SANDERRRRRRS!" The newest SWF star makes his way out to the ring to a mild pop from the capacity crowd. Dressed in plain black tights, Sanders absent-mindely slaps some hands as he comes out to the ring. "Of course, tipping the scales at nearly 270 pounds, Sanders becomes one of the largest active men on the SWF roster, with only Kibagami, Gabriel Drake, and Bruner being larger than this newcomer to the SWF," Francis says as the two competitors stare each other down in the ring. "So, he's had a few extra helpings of bacon and eggs back at the homestead," replies Suicide King. "This isn't New York, you don't get a world title shot within three months in the SWF simply because you've got some extra muscles." "That is true, but as we've seen in the past with men such as Thoth or the aforementioned Gabriel Drake, some extra mass can help out during a match." DING! DING! The two men circle each other for a moment, before heading towards each other for a lockup. After a moment of grappling, deKindes grabs Sanders in a headlock. Jesse James reverses it quickly into a headlock of his own, but then deKindes reverses it back into another headlock and then quickly takes Sanders down to the mat. Tod cranks on the headlock for a moment in the middle of the ring as the crowd - well, doesn't make much noise at all. Hey, it's the opening match and we're in the middle of a headlock fifteen seconds in. "Tod DeKindes isn't exactly endearing himself to the Belgian crowd here tonight by going to the mat early," Mak says as Sanders slowly makes his way to the ropes. "Hey, he isn't hear to make the bunch of waffle-lovers happy. He's here to win a match....forthefirsttimeinyears," King replies as deKindes continues to crank on the headlock. "What was that, King?" "Hey, this isn't exactly Flesher we're talking about here. Just being honest, all right?" Anyway, back in the ring, the larger Sanders shifts his weight a bit and elbows deKindes right in he jaw. The blow allows Sanders to slip out of the headlock and then nail Tod with a big elbow to the forehead as the crowd actually begins to react a bit. After the elbow shot, Sanders drills Tod in he gut with a boot and grabs DeKindes in a front facelock. The Kansas native then lifts DeKindes up and nails him with a vertical suplex and follows it up quickly with a knee drop right to the chest as the crowd comes alive! "Impressive series of moves from the rookie," Francis notes as Sanders waits for Tod to return to a vertical base. "This may be early in this match, but Jesse James Sanders doesn't look to have any jitters here in his SWF debut." "He hit a vertical suplex, Mak. Let's not name him the second coming of Kibagami yet," King replies. "I wasn't trying to imply anything like that, King." As DeKindes gets back to his feet, Sanders steps back to the near corner. After a moment, the rookie from Kansas charges DeKindes and sends Tod end-over-end with a big running forearm! Tod scrambles back up to his feet, but is drilled by another forearm of the non-running variety which sends the Canadian veteran stumbling back to the middle of the ring. Sanders follows that up with another big forearm and finishes up the series of clubberin' with a big body slam. After a moment, Tod tries to get back to his feet but Sanders is ready and comes from behind with a huge... "...RUNNING BULLDOG BY SANDERS!" exclaims Mak as the crowd comes alive while both men are down. "OK, that was a little impressive but it's still pretty early in the mat to increase the decibel level that much," replies King. "That may be true, but Sanders is completely in control of this match at the moment and that is still an achievement, despite Tod's record in the last few months." Sanders quickly gets to his feet and raises his fist to the crowd to a decent pop while waiting for Tod to get back to his feet. As the Toronto native tries to clear the cobwebs, Sanders comes over and drills DeKindes with a knee to the gut and follows it up with a picture-perfect single arm DDT which compresses Tod's neck right into the hard unforgiving mat with a solid thud as Sanders rolls over for the cover... ...ONE.. ...TWO... KICKOUT! "C'mon kid, a DDT hasn't won a match in big-time professional wrestling since Jake Roberts lost his latest crack vial," the always subtle Suicide King says as the ref indicates that indeed, the count way only two. "Still, Tod DeKindes has to begin to be worried at this moment. He's stuck in first gear while this young rookie is completely taking him apart," Francis replies. "We're what, fthree minutes into this match Mak? Is their a stipulation in your contract that you have to hype every rookie like he's the second coming of well...me?" "Well, if that was true, I'd have to mention Sanders possibly being pinned by Landon Maddix in a few years then." "Below the belt, Francis. Below the belt." The SWF rookie simply shrugs and goes to bring DeKindes back up to the mat, but Sanders suddendly steps back holding his eyes. DeKindes grins for a moment to a small heel pop from the SWF faithful, and then hits Sanders with a dropkick sending the rookie down to the mat. The veteran then goes to work on Sanders, nailing the young kid with several stomps right to the gut. DeKindes then grabs Sanders by his head and pulls him into a front facelook. After a moment, Tod returns the favor from a few moments ago by dropping Sanders right to the mat with a big DDT! Tod plays to the crowd for a moment and then goes out to the apron and begins to climb the ropes to a growing buzz from the Belgian crowd. DeKindes signals to the crowd and then leaps into the air and lands, driving an elbow... OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH! ...right into the mat! "A slight miscalculation by the veteran and it might cost him big-time in the latter stages of this match," Francis says as both men are laid out of the SWF mat. "You have to take risks in order to achieve your goals, Mak. Sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn't. At least DeKindes has attempted something that you don't learn by the end of your first week in wrestling school," King replies as Sanders begins to stir. Sanders slowly makes his way to his feet using the ropes as an aid while Tod DeKindes is down and out on the mat. Seeing that Tod isn't going to make his way back to his feet for at least for a while yet, the rookie from Kansas backs up to the near corner and then begins to run toward the fallen form of DeKindes and dropping a big knee right into the chest of the veteran. Sanders stands up to a growing pop from the capacity crowd, then pulls a woozy Tod back to a vertical base. Jesse then whips Tod into the ropes and lifts his size sixteen boot right into the direction of DeKinde's face, sending him to the mat via a vicious big boot as the crowd comes alive once again! After playing to the crowd for a moment once again, Sanders picks DeKindes back up and locks him into a front facelock once again. After a moment of building up the buzz throughout the Belgian crowd, Sanders powers the limp body of DeKindes up, holding him for one...two...three...four...five seconds, then dropping DeKindes back to the mat with a... "...massive delayed verical suplex by the rookie!" Francis yells as the crowd pops large for the rookie. "So, he can hold up a man for a few seconds. Yay," King replies with just a bit of sarcasm. After a second, Sanders sits back up and gets back to his feet as the crowd continues to heat up. The big man from the heartland pulls Tod back up to his feet once again and absolutely drills the Toronto native with a big forearm right to the skull! Completely out of it, DeKindes spins around and falls onto the ropes and hangs on to the ropes, barely still on his feet under his own power. Jesse James confindently walks over to Tod and grabs him by the skull. Sanders then basically drags DeKindes back to the middle of the ring, positions DeKindes behind him and drops him to the mat with a big reverse neckbreaker! Sanders then hooks the near leg and goes for the pin... ...ONE... ...TWO... ...TH - SHOULDER UP! "Again, maybe a little of Sanders inexperience coming through here. Most veterans wouldn't think of going for the pin after a mid-range move such as a reverse neckbreaker. This may cost him if DeKindes is able to reverse the momentum of the match," Francis says. "An actual criticism. My God, it's like your an actual unbiased commentator," a surprised King replies. "That's rich, coming from the guy who would try to justify Flesher killing a puppy in the middle of the ring." "Only if the puppy deserved it." On a non-Vickian note, Sanders gets back to his feet and attempts to pull Tod back to his feet once again, but DeKindes actually proves his veteran cred by sandbagging the rookie causing Sanders to drop him back to the mat. Jesse tries to pull up the Canadian veteran back to his feet but once again, DeKindes sandbags Sanders once again and this time the young rookie gets frustrated. He backs off for a moment and kicks the ropes in frustration before heading back towards the middle of the ring. Once again, Sanders goes to pick up DeKindes and this time, the veteran strikes. He cradles Sanders quickly and even though the Kansasan quickly kicks out, the momentum shifts for just a moment and Tod takes the advantage to hit a quick drop kick to the rather large knee of Sanders that sends the big man sprawling to the mat! "See, that's why experience will always win out over young kids with a lot of hype. All the knowledge learned in a school can't compete with the cunning of a long career," King says. "Exhibit A: Toxxic." "Hmm. You have a small point. Anyway, DeKindes needs to keep the pressure on Sanders here so the big galoot can't get back on track." Realizing that, DeKindes quickly nails Sanders with a big forearm and then drops the rookie down to the mat with an effective Russian Legsweep as the boobirds come out of the crowd, showering Tod with heat as he ambles over to the near corner. As Sanders lays on the mat, DeKindes cliimbs up to the second rope and lifts his arms to the booing crowd. Then, Tod leaps off and nails Jesse James with a... "...second rope elbow drop from DeKindes!" Francis exclaims as the crowd boos the impressive manuever from the Torontoian. The veteran then comes off the near rope and returns the favor from earlier in the mat by dropping a big knee on to the chest of Sanders. Jesse James slowly gets back to his feet as DeKindes simply waits for the larger man to get back to his feet. DeKindes then hits a big dropkick on the big rookie, sending him back into the ropes. With Sanders still on his feet, DeKindes nails Sanders with another dropkick but the big man stands his ground by somehow staying on two somewhat-shaky feet. DeKindes then rushes at Sanders again and goes for a somewhat-big clothesline, but Sanders ducks under to avoid the move. DeKindes turns around right into a big forearm, then Sanders picks the veteran on to his shoulders and drops him to the mat with a... "...SAMOAN DROP BY SANDERS!" yells Francis as the crowd goes mad. "Slight mistake by DeKindes, but he can still get back into gear if he keeps his head in the game," notes King. The rookie then follows things up as both men get to their feet and... *THWACK* ...hits DeKindes with a hard elbow strike, then follows it up with a... *CRACK* ...big forearm that sends DeKindes back into the ropes, and Sanders finishes things off with a... *WHAP* ...big boot that sends DeKindes flat on his back as the crowd goes wild! "OK, that might complicate matters," deadpans King. Sanders then goes off the far ropes and goes to the sorta-sky again by leaping for a big knee drop once again, DeKindes manages to baaarely just roll away as the rookies knee hits the mat with a thud and both men lay on the mat while the referee begins to count both men down after a moment... ...ONE... ...TWO... ...THREE... ...FOUR... ...FIVE... ...SIX... DeKindes begins to stir, using the ropes to get back to his feet. As Sanders stands back up, DeKindes rushes in and takes Sanders back to the mat with a nasty chop block that sends the rookie back to the mat. DeKindes then gets back to his feet and grabs the rookies near leg and hits Sanders with a big kneebreaker. The veteran then follows it up with, well, another kneebreaker as the crowd continues to boo DeKindes. The Canadian native ignores the booing and goes off the far ropes and flies once again, hitting Sanders with yet another knee drop. With a small smile on his feet, Tod then begins to simply lay into Sanders with a series of vicious stomps on the young rookies ribs and stomach, drawing even more boos from the Belgian crowd. "Again, no fancy moves. Nothing that'll get put in a Youtube video made by a fourteen year old. Simple and deadly, that's how DeKindes works," King says as the referee yells at DeKindes to stop his attack as Sanders is under the ropes. "It may be effective, but both men are beginning to take some damage here and the question is who will be able to outlast the other one and land the killing blow," replies Francis. DeKindes cleanly backs away from Sanders as the referee admonishes him. Sanders slowly gets back to his feet, only for DeKindes to absolutely nail him with a running dropkick! DeKindes then signals to the crowd with a 'thumbs down' and picks up the farmboy from the heartland and attempts to get him into position for the Spirit Breaker, but the rookie shifts his weight causing the two wrestlers positions to reverse, with Sanders now holding the advantage. With all the stumbling and reversals, both men are now near the ropes but that doesn't stop Sanders from compressing a few vertebrae in Tod's neck by dropping him straight down into a... "...TOMBSTONE! TOMBSTONE!" Francis yells as the crowd explodes with a large pop for the rookie. "That was impressive, but the farmboy needs to get DeKindes back in the middle of the ring in order to pull this victory off," replies King as Sanders goes for the pinfall - near the ropes. "He's not even going to get a count from the ref." The big man goes for a pinfall, but the referee quickly stops the count before even one as DeKindes feet are tangled in the ropes after the neck cracking manuever. As the crowd goes mad, Sanders raises his fist to the crowd, then pulls a completely out-of-sorts Tod DeKindes to his feet. He then hoists DeKindes on to his shoulders, simply stands their for a moment while the crowds buzz continues to build, he then drops DeKindes into the mat with a brainbuster, also knows as... "...BLEEDING KANSAS FROM SANDERS! It has to be over now," exclaims Mak as Sanders hooks the leg. ONE! TWO! THREE! DING! DING! "Impressive victory from Jesse James Sanders in his first SWF match," Francis says as the strains of 'Blue on Black' begins to play over the cheering Belgian crowd. "Well, he won. We've seen a lot of geeks win their first match, and then dissappear Mak." As the announcers continue to bicker, Sanders raises his fist to the crowd to a large pop, then rolls to the outside slapping hands as he heads to the back, his first SWF victory in the record books.

1. We haven't done this in a while, because I'm lame: THEME SONG NOMINATIONS. Lay 'em on me. 2. If you have plans, tell me. If you've told me what your plans are, tell me again. If you don't have plans, tell me. If you've already told me you don't have plans, tell me again. WHAT ARE YOU HIDING, DOG MAN?! TELL ME! TELL MEEEEEE!

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation presents... SWF STOOOOORM! Live, Thursday, July 26th, from the Ethias Arena in Hasselt, Belgium! (7pm PST, 10pm EST; check local listings) (Send all promos/marked matches to chirs3) -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- THE MAIN EVENT - REVENGE FOR THE BEATDOWN Johnny Dangerous vs. The Fabulous Jakey --> A beatdown? In this fed? I THINK NOT. WE DON'T TOLERATE THAT SORT OFoh who am I kidding? In any event, Johnny Dangerous gets a chance to even the score, after the number Rev-0 did on him last week. "But Bookerman," you're saying, "what if it all ends in a massive brawl like last Storm?" Not gonna happen. Wildchild and Rev-0 will be present at ringside. They may even give guest commentary, if they choose to. They will be allowed at ringside for moral support and lively chatter, but each man will be handcuffed to the rails, and each will have a personal security guard watching them, to restrain them if necessary. Rules: Singlies. Word Limit: 5500 Send to: chirs3 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- TAG TEAM MATCH Winston Churchill (Jimmy the Doom and Fulminatus) vs. MANXANDER (MANSON and Michael Alexander) --> I'm not sure the arena can contain this concentrated dose of awesome, but damn it, we'll give it our best shot! Rules: Taggers! Word Limit: 5000 Send to: Ace309 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- In the House of Marvelous: "The Dean of Professional Wrestling" Jay Hawke -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- HARDCORE MATCH Nathaniel Kibagami vs. Austin Sly --> Because because because because, because of the wonderful things he does! Rules: HRADKORZ Word Limit: 5000 Send to: chirs3 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- New Blood Contendership Match Blue Leaf vs. Saintly C. Killa --> With the New Blood Champion crowned, we now need to determine who he'll be defending against at Ground Zero! The two tournament hopefuls who didn't quite make it now go head to head, with the winner challenging Fulminatus for the New Blood Title at the Pay Per View! Rules: Singles, of the standard variety. Word Limit: 5000 Send to: Ace309 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- SINGLES MATCH Jesse James Sanders vs. Tod deKindes --> It's a new New Blood! Jesse James Sanders makes his SWF debut one week before Ground Zero... coincidence? PROBABLY. Rules: Singles. Word Limit: 4500 Send to: chirs3 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- PLUS: There may yet be some matches edited in, pending confirmation. Keep an eye out Landon, and potentially CIA, and others. Also, as usual, requests for additions/subtractions/multiplications/divisions/fractions/etceteras, gimme gimme.

1. ManXander vs. ToxxSly was ridiculously close. If ManXander's up for posting the not quite winners thread, I highly encourage you all to check out their match. It was a very tough call to make. 2. I'd yell at the noshowers, but unfortunately, I join their ranks this week. I am teh shameful. 3. Loved the promoage.

So does this mean we can no longer advertise the SWF as better than sex?

And as far as MANXANDER's name goes... well, I kind of like "Them Guys What Do Bad Things"...

I don't doubt Johnny would want Toxx, but W&D have faced ToxxSly recently, and will face them again very soon, so I didn't want to officially put them together for yet another match. That, and Jakey picked up a win against Landon, which was not insignificant. As for the cuffing - the idea is with everyone out in the open and restrained, there's no need to worry about an OMG BUM RUSH FROM THE BACK post match beatdowns, no worrying about anyone lurking in the crowd ready to leap out, no worrying about people appearing onstage to distract anyone, etc. The best way to keep people in check is to know where they are and what they are doing at all times, so keeping them in plain sight and fully restrained is our best shot at being certain they can't pull anything. In theory, anyway. I don't doubt Toxxic will try to sneak a lockpick with him or bribe the guards, which is why I didn't simply say "barred from ringside". Actually putting them there allows guest commentary if our writers want to use it (or not if they don't), and also allows for some creative screw-with-ery, if our writers want to go that route (or not, if they don't). I'd have locked them in a cage above the ring if that hadn't already been done, but the idea is the same.

“The last we saw of Alan Clark a week ago, he was walking away from a tag team championship opportunity. That’s something I never thought I’d…” “Look who his partner was, Mak!” the interruption from the Suicide King comes as video from the previous week shows on the screen, Spike Jenkins desperately reaching out for a tag before being left alone to deal with Wild & Dangerous, his partner for that evening and opponent for this evening leaving him and exiting to the back. “I am not about to doubt the abilities of Spike Jenkins, you might be right, King. Alan Clark got put in the perfect situation to get Jenkins softened up for tonight and he used it. For all we know Jenkins might be as stiff as that cardboard cutout Alan found in his dressing room earlier tonight.” “At least it wasn’t spiders again…” shivers the Gambling Man as the lights around ringside suddenly dim and a spotlight catches Funyon in the center of the ring. “Ladies and Gentlemen…it is time for our MAIN EVENT!” the Stade de France explodes, needing not a single bit of translation to know that this is what they all came to see. RAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! “Every time I hear that I get this suspicion that HVT is going to pop out from somewhere.” Francis’ remark comes underneath the psychotic riffs of “When Keeping It Real Goes Wrong” telling everyone that it is not a giant hulking African-american that is about to step through that curtain, but… “Spike! Spike! Spike!” This is… …THE END! And sure enough, as a few of the more vocal fans in the arena begin to chant and a crescendo hits, Spike Jenkins appears from the darkness and into the spotlight, stretching his body out just a bit more, arching his back as both a way to work out some of the knots he accumulated against Wildchild and Johnny Dangerous as well as to make himself look just that much taller on the stage as he raises his hands high into the air. Even with the hood of his sweatshirt over his eyes, you know he is concentrated on the ring. “Introducing first, the challenger…representing Long Island, New York and weighing in at two-hundred-five pounds…he is the New Straight Edge Sensation…”HOLLYWOOD” SPIKE JENKINS!!!” “He’s from Long Island but he calls himself Hollywood, what in the world is wrong with kid’s today…” mutters the Suicide King as Jenkins reaches ringside and throws his sweatshirt off and to the floor, only for it to be quickly retrieved by a waiting attendant as the championship challenger climbs the steel steps and enters the ring. As the sounds of Emmure fade away, referee Mathew Kivell gives Jenkins a once over before everyone’s attention turns back to the curtain. “Please Stand Clear Of The…” the monotone voice fades away, only to be quickly replaced by the sounds of “To Die For”, the orchestral harpings bringing forth a chorus of boos from the fans around the arena. “And his opponent…representing Disneyland Paris and being accompanied to the ring by Walter Reynolds... he weighs in at two-hundred-twenty-five pounds… he is the S-W-F HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION OF THE WOOOORLD… ALAAAAN CLAAAARK!!!” “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” From behind the curtain steps Alan Clark with Walter Reynolds a mere three-and-a-half steps behind, the smaller man with the World Heavyweight Championship strapped tightly around his waist as the much larger bodyguard waits until the spotlight is perfect to set up what he himself is carrying… …the cardboard cut-out of Spike Jenkins. “ALAN SUCKS! ALAN SUCKS!” the chant brings a small smirk to the face of Clark, who gives the cardboard a pat on the back before non-chalantly pushing it over. The real Spike Jenkins looks none-too-pleased in the ring as Alan heads down to the ring, the two men’s eyes locked onto each other. “Well, I guess Alan Clark is expecting his opponent tonight to be nothing more than a pushover…” “Well Spike has lost some weight…” adds the Suicide King as Alan follows the path of his challenger and climbs the steps into the ring, leaving Walter to take his regular place on the outside before Kivell can get between the two men. But with the stare unbroken, Matt checks over the world champion and removes the belt from his waist, making sure to give a good look of it to Spike before raising it high into the air, showing all in attendance and watching at home exactly what this match is for. “Alan Clark is no slouch, but he is not going to be able to come into this match and walk all over Spike Jenkins. He has shown himself to be a lot more focused since he came back a few weeks ago, and the focus has all been on tonight.” “You talk to Spike all the time, Francis, and you say he is focused on this, but this isn’t the SJL! Everyone thought Spike would never amount to anything down there and just when you thought he would never amount to anything he wins their world title in a total shocker! Lightning doesn’t strike twice, Francis! It just doesn’t!” “Well, we will just have to see about that, King. I never give anyone the benefit of the doubt, and I am definitely not about to give Alan Clark praise for walking out like he did last week. On any given day any guy in that locker room can beat any other guy and you know it!” “But it’s SPIKE!” Ding Ding Ding! “And there goes the bell, and there goes Spike!” Francis chooses to ignore his partner as Jenkins wastes little time in getting on the offensive side of the match, dodging past the referee and straight into Alan Clark, the champion backpedaling immediately to keep some distance between himself and his fiery challenger. “Alan Clark barely got out of the way of that toe kick!” Jenkins strikes, but catches nothing but the air as Clark dodges back and forth, only to find himself trapped in the corner with Spike closing in. “OMPH!” “And Jenkins finally connects! Hard knee to the sternum!” “It’s going to take a lot more than his right knee to win the title…” the obvious comes as Spike continues his assault, slamming his knee into Alan’s gut as Clark throws his hands in the air and tries to escape. With damage done, Spike backs away at Kivell’s request… “SPIKE! SPIKE! SPIKE!” The chants come again, but Spike stays focused as Alan takes a step out of the corner and Kivell backs away. “There goes Spike again!!!” “CAUGHT!” screams the Suicide King as Alan is able to catch Spike in his grasp and lift him into the air, almost into a throw as he falls backwards and drives Jenkins’ face square into the top turnbuckle! “Snake Eyes connects! He did that to Landon Maddix and it looks like he is going to keep working with that strategy…” “That might not be the best of ideas…” comments Francis as Spike slumps down in the corner, his head sitting against the middle buckle as Alan regains his composure and backs away from the corner, looking to indeed follow-up on Jenkins the same way he did to Maddix at 13th Hour… “Here comes that kick…” “NO!!” “Spike moved! Spike moved! But Clark caught himself!” Alan catches the ropes as Spike ducks away from the kick and does a quick pivot, sliding his arm under Alan’s raised right leg and pulling him down and away from ropes and into a schoolboy pin! One! Tw—KICKOUT! “He almost pulled out a big surprise on Alan Clark there, and Alan does not look happy about it!” Indeed, Clark’s normal smirk is soured as he rolls to his knees, only for his expression to get even sourer as both of Spike’s boots are planted into his chest! The dropkick impact sends Clark tumbling backwards and nearly outside of the ring! “I would take the time to say that Spike Jenkins is no Landon Maddix, but come on…duh...” “Alan Clark almost rolled completely out of the ring there, and maybe he should have!” calls Francis as Spike Jenkins dives over the top rope and toward the floor, sending his knee down and across Clark’s head! The whiplash causes Alan’s body to be bucked back inside the ring, curling into a slight fetal position from the shockwave through his neck as Spike stands back to his feet on the outside. “And high risk pays off big time! That kind of thing can really jar a man’s spine! Alan Clark is hurting and Spike Jenkins will do his best to exploit that for all it is worth! He wants that title!” “Again, who wouldn’t want to be Heavyweight Champion? I’m not exactly giggling over the prospect of either of these guys walking out of here with the gold tonight, but even I would have to put my money on Alan Clark.” “Well you are the Gambling Man, but you might want to hold on to that wad of cash a little tighter, cause Spike Jenkins is back in the ring and Alan has down little since taking that knee to the face!” Well, Alan has moved a little, crawling up to his knees and shaking his head back and forth, his eyes more focused on the canvas than the ‘heartless’ veteran just over his shoulder. “He is probably just playing possum!” SMACK! “…or, well, not.” Mak adds as Clark’s head is driven into the canvas courtesy of a hard boot, the New Sensation taking a moment to pin Alan’s face to the mat with the bottom of his foot. Clark thrashes and Jenkins finally relents at the call of Kivell, only to reach back down and drag Alan right back up to his knees and pull him toward the center of the ring. “Would you say Spike Jenkins is already letting himself showboat a bit this early in the match? That kind of lapse in concentration could cost him dearly down the road.” “Of course! For a man that has gotten so many chances at world championships in the past and only won ONE of them, he really needs to…” SMACK! SMACK! WHIIIFFF! “Two hard kicks connect but that third one missed by a mile! I couldn’t tell if Alan ducked or if he simply just collapsed!” On the outside of the ring, Walter looks on with a great deal of concern, his hands resting on the apron and his mouth moving slowly as though he is almost willing Alan Clark to stand back up. “And look at that, the stoic bodyguard has broken from his trance and is intently watching the ring now. Could it be that Alan Clark might not have been as prepared for this as his actions have made it seem?” “That title brings quite a bonus with it, and you think that Walter doesn’t get a cut of that? He doesn’t want Clark to lose it anymore than Clark himself does!” “You might actually have a point there, and Kivell is making sure that Reynolds doesn’t try to do anything unsportsmanlike.” But with the referee’s warning comes reassurance from Walter, who backs away a few steps from the side of the ring but continues to keep his eyes on Clark, who is being rolled over and into a pinfall attempt. One! Two!! NO!! “Alan Clark BARELY got that shoulder up. I thought for sure we were going to see a new champion crowned here tonight! You have to know that Jay Hawke is backstage watching and just waiting to see who he will face at Ground Zero in just a few weeks time.” “I think Alan has proven many times that you can’t count him down until he lets himself get counted down. And with what is at stake, he might never let himself stay down.” And indeed with those words it does seem as though Alan is trying to stand, but with Spike Jenkins standing over him he has found himself with very few options. “Catch a glimpse of those eyes, they are almost glazed over.” The ringside camera moves in close and zooms in on the face of Alan Clark, whose eyes are indeed simply half-open with a sheen across them, only for them to suddenly snap wide open and his body to quickly slide backwards, just as Spike’s lower-half comes into frame and buckles knee-first into the canvas! “WHAT WAS THAT!? Alan Clark is up! Alan Clark is up!” The champion is standing, the glazed over look of only seconds ago replaced by his trademark grin as Spike clutches at his right knee on the mat. The close-up can see Alan mouthing three very simple words. “tsk…tsk…tsk.” “You might be right, King! Alan Clark might have just possumed Spike Jenkins into jarring that knee out of place! Look at him!” Alan stands back as Kivell checks on Jenkins, taking the moment to stretch out his neck as Spike stands against the ropes, his right leg noticeably crooked from the hard landing. “Spike Jenkins is not the fastest man on the roster by any stretch of the imagination, but taking away the legs takes away all those kicks and quite possibly any speed Jenkins might have had…” remarks the Franchise as Jenkins bats the referee away, only for Clark to come bouncing off the adjacent ropes and throwing all of his weight into both of Jenkins’ calves, the barrel roll dive sending Spike tripping backwards and down onto his back along the edge of the ring. “He always has a plan! He knows that no matter what Spike Jenkins says that he is way too cocky to not relish an advantage. He might have gotten that advantage off that high risk maneuver, and it no doubt probably knocked loose a few electrons from Clark’s skull, but look at how the tables have turned now!” Alan is quickly back on his feet and immediately takes the chance to attack Spike’s right leg, giving the knee a stiff kick and following it up with knee from his own repertoire, putting even more pressure on the joint. Clark holds his knee there, using his left hand to pull Spike’s foot up and against it’s natural bend, causing not only one of Spike’s free hands to grab at the bottom rope but the other to slash through the air and strike the back of Alan’s right arm just as Kivell calls for some separation. “Well, now we know Spike Jenkins has some good reflexes, must be all that Brazilian training.” “Jiu-jitsu is known to create very good hand-eye coordination and enhanced reflexes.” “I thought that Brazilian stuff had to do with post-op transsexuals.” The censor must have been asleep at the button, as the beep is heard not in conjunction with the possibly offensive phrase, but with Mak Francis’ gaping mouth in response to the possibly offensive phrase. “Well, that was awkward.” Both commentators mutter to themselves a bit as Alan moves toward Spike and once more clutching at his right leg and dragging him down the middle of the ring. Jenkins tries to get his hands on the bottom rope, but they barely get out of range as his hands clasp on the open air. “And now Spike Jenkins is in big trouble!” “Let’s see how far Mister Heartless can get with two hundred pounds on his back!” chimes Suicide King as Alan rolls Spike onto his stomach and wrenches his right leg backwards – all the while pushing all of weight down onto the small of his spine. “He’s got Spike in what looks to be a slightly modified version of the Barracuda! He felt the MI Slam just a week ago and now he is being locked in to Johnny Dangerous’ signature submission hold! I’m sure he really does not enjoy the added pressure being put on the back in that position! He’s almost bent in a full “J” shape!” “Johnny should be backstage taking notes if he knew how to read.” The Suicide King mocks openly, as usual, as Spike’s arms thrash and flail in the hold and Kivell tries to check for a submission. “SPIKE! SPIKE! SPIKE!” “NO!!” Spike can be heard yelling above the now-chanting crowd around the arena, but whatever power the fans might have on the hold looks to be only from the side of Alan Clark, as he pulls backwards even harder on the right leg and adds an extra twist to the ankle with his right hand, doing even more tendon damage to the primary kicking and running leg of the challenger. “SPIKE! SPIKE! SPIKE!” “CLARK SUCKS!” a few random fans can be heard bellowing from ringside, which only furthers to add to the pain for Spike Jenkins, as Alan makes a point to release the pressure from Jenkins’ back and then quickly hop up and back down, showing Spike exactly what good his right knee could be doing if it wasn’t being held captive. “Do you give up, Spike?” “I SAID NO!” the conversation between Kivell and Jenkins is picked up on the ringside camera, leading Spike to begin to swing his left leg up and down, driving his heel into Alan’s chest repeatedly. The kicks might not have a lot behind them, but after the third Alan throws the hold away, making sure to slam his right leg down to the canvas knee-first, an added insult to injury before he moves to pick Spike Jenkins back up. “Spike Jenkins is hurting, and any pain that might have been on Alan Clark’s face has either been blocked out or he’s a heck of a good actor. He hasn’t stopped smiling since Spike started writhing about on the canvas a few minutes ago!” “Well, smart as he might be, he’s also got a couple screws loose. We’ve seen that enough times over the years…” adds the Suicide King as the smiling Clark gets Spike to his one good foot, the other precariously been held a few inches from the mat, and then looks him straight into the eyes… …gives his left cheek a little pat for the effort… “CUTTING IN LINE!! NO!! Spike slipped out! Alan Clark thought it had it wrapped up and tried to embarrass Spike Jenkins right there!” calls Mak as Alan bounces off the canvas and rolls to his knees from the whiffed neckbreaker, only to see a hobbling and upset-to-say-the-least “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins staring down at him. “Understatement of the year, Alan Clark might be (bleep)ed!” “Jenkins is going to have to fight through the pain in his right leg if he is going to have a chance to capitalize here…” but Alan gives him no such chance as he begins to backpedal on his two good knees immediately, putting some canvas between himself and the approaching-as-fast-as-he-can Jenkins. Alan throws his hands up and calls for Kivell to intervene, who does indeed try, distracting Spike long enough for Alan to strafe himself out and around Jenkins’ immediate line of sight and once again go back to a chop block! “Mathew Kivell might have just won this match for Alan Clark! Who knew he was such a Clark Mark!” “A what?” questions the Franchise, “And I thought Sensation Nation was corny…” but he does not really want to hear an answer as Clark pulls Jenkins up and moves him toward the corner, holding him by the hands as he ascends to the second rope… “You know Alan Clark invented this move?” “Maelstrom coming up, King, and no I did not!” But as Alan leaps from the second rope and completes his flip over Spike’s head, the veteran throws his arms forward, pulling them from Alan’s grasp and sending him down coccyx-first into the middle of the ring! Jenkins is quick to spin around and take advantage of the moment, leaping off his good leg and driving his knee into the back of Alan Clark’s skull! Unfortunately for Spike Jenkins…it was his right knee. “Dangerous Wizard connects!!” “But it might have done more harm than good!” “That is what happens when you don’t think through your actions. He’s probably done that move a thousand times with the right knee and just fell back into the routine the second he got a chance.” “That’s what I have been trying to tell you for weeks, Francis! We need a champion that can adapt to the moment! Alan Clark does that! He’s a thinking man’s champion! Spike gets the chance to really take over and do some damage and he immediately screws up! We can’t have a screw-up at the top of this company. Why do you think I was so against Landon Maddix!?” “Well there was that time…” “Watch it, Wheels…” monotones the King as Mathew Kivell begins to make his count, the champion himself barely starting to stir as Jenkins himself reaches out toward the bottom rope just inches from his grasp. “One!” “Two!” “SPIKE! SPIKE! SPIKE!” Spike reaches the bottom rope as the chants start up once again, but he has yet to be off his back for more than a few thousands of a second at a time so far. A few feet from him, Alan Clark has also rolled his way to the same ropes, and the two men seemingly begin their climb back up. “Three!” “Four!” “Five!” “Alan is moving much quicker, even with the knot in the back of his head!” The Suicide King calls as Alan is indeed the first to get to his feet, his left hand clutching the back of his own head as he reaches out with his right to grab the back of the head of Jenkins, who had almost gotten his left foot underneath him. “Spike Jenkins is starting to look a little desperate in that ring now, look at him just flailing and trying to get Alan to release the hold on his hair, which Kivell has been warning him for since he began dragging him toward the center of the ring.” “Like you, me, or even Spike has never done that before!” but with Kivell playing good cop Alan is forced to let go, only to immediately hook on a three-quarter facelock as Spike tries to stand and get his balance… WHAAAM! …and pull him straight back down to the canvas face-first! “And there is the Cutting In Line!! He’s got the cover!” One!! Two!! Three!!!! “NO!! Spike kicked out! Spike Jenkins kicked out!!” the face of Alan Clark shows pure shock as Jenkins rolls away from the pinning predicament and then up to his left knee. Alan stands, looking to keep the pressure on… “OOOMPH~!” …only to be taken down by a spear! Jenkins lands atop Clark after the one-legged spear and begins firing off palm strikes one after the other, rattling the brain of the heavyweight champion with each stiff shot! “Spike Jenkins might be only on one leg for the time being, but that doesn’t affect those shoteis he can dish out!” “Well, you trained him didn’t you? You should have taught him how to act and react without the use of his lower body a little better!” the attentive viewer at home can almost hear the sound of Mak Francis’ glare to his broadcast partner as Kivell calls for separation, the feisty Jenkins standing up to his feet and though somewhat unbalanced he is seemingly at this moment doing better than his opponent who is still trying to find his bearings after they were knocked all over the canvas. “If Alan Clark can’t think straight he might not be as effective as he has been in recent months. Clark might have a few losses under his belt since returning to the ring almost a year ago, but he also holds very decisive and definitive wins over guys like Landon, Johnny Dangerous, and even Toxxic!” “Should I remind you that Spike Jenkins also defeated Toxxic two years ago at 13th Hour?” “That was a Last Man Standing match! And anyways, how can a man who is supposedly be all Hollywood like Spike in there have moves called the Ratings Grabber and the Ratings Crash? It can only be one or the other – and Tom Flesher is hoping that no matter who wins here tonight that they can keep on grabbing those ratings between now and Genesis and beyond!” “You would probably have to ask Spike that one, King, but he is a little bit busy right now in the ring…” Francis remarks as Spike does indeed begin to get busy (in the least of sexual senses) by ‘persuading’ Alan back to his knees and then immediately drops to the side of him, resting all of his weight on his good knee and taking the time to lock Alan into a half-nelson, using his free right arm to swing wildly into Clark’s face, the strikes no doubt sending a shockwave of pain through every pore. Jenkins can be heard grunting in aggression as every shot connects, putting as much force as he can behind every blow. “And now things are starting to get quite un-Disney-like in the ring right now, as if they were Disney-like to begin with. Spike is just scrambling Alan’s brains with his forearm and keeping him in place with that half-nelson is no doubt whipping the neck in ways it is not meant to be whipped.” “Is there any normal way your neck should be whipped, Mak? I mean, you would know…” this time, Mak’s clenched right hand comes from under the desk and raises into the air… “hey, I’m just kidding. Calm it down a tad…” adds King as Alan is finally able to get his right arm in front of his face to play defense, and after a few more stiff swings do not connect the way Jenkins would want, he releases Clark and pushes him down to the canvas, and then immediately rolls him into a pin! One! Two! Three!!! “Clark kicks out, and I do not think Spike really expected to even come close to getting a three count there! I think he really wanted to show Alan that he was not going to go down so easily and that at any time it could be over just that quickly!” Spike’s half-wince/half-grin seem to aide this theory as Alan works to get back up, he is barely able to get one foot underneath him before a sharp pain burns through his jaw and reverberates around his skull… “ROARING ELBOW! God lord!” Clark’s body is sent backwards and to a heap and even Spike can almost not believe his own strength as he rubs his left hand against his right elbow for a moment before lifting Alan back off the canvas and into the center of the ring. “I thought maybe he would go for the pin there, but Spike seems to have other ideas. He has been focused on winning this championship and things are beginning to look like they are not going to end well for Alan Clark…speaking of…” continues Francis as Alan suddenly finds his head trapped between Spike Jenkins’ legs and his arms being wrenched up and behind his back. “This could be the Endwell!” “NO!!” The Suicide King elates as Alan pushes all his weight forward on his feet, sending Spike hobbling backwards on his bad foot and releasing him from what could have been his last experience as world heavyweight champion. Jenkins however seems to flush out the pain and takes a run back toward the kneeling Clark… “Look out! Collision time!” but Alan dives out of the way, sending his left leg straight into Spike’s right and sending the challenger back down to the canvas! “I don’t know if he was actually trying to trip Spike up or if he just couldn’t get out of the way fast enough, but either way Spike Jenkins is down once again and Alan is back on his feet!” “I think Spike might have rather had the collision!” calls the Suicide King as Alan places his feet on either side of Jenkins body and pulls him up by his head, wrapping his arm around his throat and with very little hesitation pulling straight back… “LAND OF NOD! Alan Clark put Spike Jenkins in the Barracuda earlier and now he is stealing from the former world champion himself! Spike has been known to pull this same hold out from time to time, but I don’t think that is the message Clark is trying to send right here!” “It has been said time and time again in this company that you can not just walk in and expect a heavyweight title shot! This isn’t the Junior Leagues and I do not care what Spike’s achievements are in the SWF, if a guy like Danny Williams or Nathaniel Kibagami can’t just walk in and get a title shot, Spike is way too far down that ladder to be trying to weasel his way in to the main event of Ground Zero! Johnny Dangerous and Landon Maddix might not be on that level either, but at least they earned what they were given!” “Are you done ranting yet, I’m trying to pay attention!” Francis has a bit more focus on the match now than he did before as Spike Jenkins continues to try to fight his way out of the dragon clutch, his arms outstretched towards the ropes as he does anything he can to block out the pain coursing through his lower back and neck. “Alan Clark has a sixty-billion dollar company behind him and he didn’t headline an SWF pay-per-view for THREE AND A HALF YEARS!” adds the Suicide King as Alan releases the hold, pushing Spike down onto his face and moving to his feet, taking his time to roll Jenkins over to his back and pull him up and into a very well known position…. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “This sold-out crowd knows what is coming, and this is a trip Spike Jenkins took once before in the Junior Leagues you were just defaming, King! It’s time for Spike to go to…NO!!” Spike pushes away from the submission attempt with his left leg, kicking Alan back, but only for a moment, as Clark hits the brakes and tries to go back to the hold, only to be pulled straight down and into a small package! One!! Two!! “CLARK ROLLS THROUGH!!” One!! Two!!! “JENKINS KICKS OUT!!!” “YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!” the crowd explodes as Spike kicks Clark away and somersaults backwards to one knee. Clark himself does near the same, and the two men immediately rush each other once again… SMACK! “VICIOUS PALM STRIKE BY JENKINS! Alan Clark is dazed and confused!” The shot stumbles Clark, who falls to one knee and Spike immediately latches into a front facelock… “This doesn’t look good!” even Walter Reynolds looks away from the ring as Spike tries to get himself into position… “It’s the Fall of Rome!!” cries out Francis, but with both of Alan’s arms free, the champion swings both down into Jenkins unprotected legs, his left fist burying itself into the side of Jenkins right kneecap, the pain freeing Clark and sending Jenkins spinning out of pure reflex… “Uh oh…” WHAAAM! “Clark’s Wild Ride!” “That’s MISTER to you, Francis!” chimes in the Suicide King as Alan is able to hook his arms in position and throw Spike up and over and straight back down chest-first into the mat with a hard slam! “A move of opportunity no doubt, but that kind of move will knock the wind straight out of you!” “Opportunity or not, Mak, Spike thought he had this match won and that for the second time in his career lightning was going to strike and he was going to win world heavyweight gold!” but Alan Clark seems to have other ideas for the challenger, as Spike rolls to his stomach to try and get the air he needs into his lungs, he can feel both of his legs being pulled toward the center of the ring… “This can not be good.” “Speaking of lightning...” calls Suicide King as Alan pulls the injured leg up and through his own… “It could be time for some courtesy of Alan Clark!” “Wait, Jenkins is trying to kick his way free!” but Alan’s hold on his right ankle is more than Spike bargained for and, with a quick twist of the right leg, the left leg spasms out and around Clark’s left, and it is almost like lightning that Clark locks the legs in place just where he needs them and rolls himself one-hundred-eighty-degrees and falls to the canvas… “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!” “TOUCHSTONE LIGHTNING! The corporate-sponsored-and-formerly-known-as-Wrath of Clark will do more damage to that right knee and in less time than anything else Alan has done this match! I’ve felt that hold and I know the pain on Spike Jenkins’ face is real!” and sure enough, the ringside camera zooms in to see Spike’s face wincing and gritting from the pain as he tries in vain to reach toward the ropes, but with his legs off the ground and two hundred and twenty five pounds anchoring him to the middle of the ring, the chances of Spike doing anything more than slapping the canvas in defeat is as slim as, well… …lightning striking twice. DING DING DING! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “Ladies and Gentlemen…the winner of this contest by submission…and STILL S-W-F HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION OF THE WORLD…ALAAAAAAAN CLAAAARK!” by the time Funyon finishes calling out Clark’s name, the champion has pulled himself to the outside and is met by Walter Reynolds, the bodyguard raising Alan’s hand in victory as his championship is handed back to him. Kivell makes a quick exit of the ring to do his own job of raising Alan’s hand as Walter works to secure the belt back around Clark’s waist before the two men head back up the ramp, the deep sounds of “To Die For” pumping above the jeering crowd. “I told you, Francis! Nobody just walks into the SWF and demands a title shot! Maybe next time he’ll spend more time trying to prove himself in the ring and less time trying to let his ego pick his fights for him!” “Spike put forth a hard fought match, King, and I will say this much, it was some quick thinking and some luck that saved Alan Clark tonight. Let’s see if he can keep that going against Jay Hawke in a few weeks when the two men fight to see who becomes the undisputed heavyweight champion here in the SWF.” With Mathew Kivell back in the ring checking on Jenkins, the scene turns to the ramp as Alan is just about to disappear backstage, only to have someone stop him dead in his tracks. “Speak of the devil! It’s Jay Hawke! He’s come to greet the champ!” The crowd’s attention turns to the stage as well and a spotlight strikes the three men, with Walter standing between the two as a precaution, but there is very little said that the camera can hear. Both men say their piece to one another as Jay raises his International Championship high into the air, a championship Alan Clark himself never officially lost. Alan does nothing but smirk once again, his stare settling deep into Jay Hawke’s eyes as he pats his hand on his freshly-defended championship and Storm fades away into darkness.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation presents... SWF STOOOOORM! Live, Thursday, July 19th, from the Stade de France in Saint-Denis, France! (7pm PST, 10pm EST; check local listings) -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- THE MAIN EVENT - SWF WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP Alan Clark vs. "Hollywood" Spike Jenkins --> The final bump in the road before Ground Zero - one of these men will head into the Pay Per View, into the Unification match, with the World Heavyweight Championship! Rules: Standard singles match. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- SINGLES MATCH Nathaniel Kibagami vs. Jay Hawke --> Because. Rules: Standard singles. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- TAG TEAM MATCH Revolution-0 (Toxxic and Austin Sly) vs. Michael Alexander and MANSON --> Rev-0 suffered a close close loss to W&D a few shows ago, but they continue to fight the good fight! Witty and/or insulting team name for Doom/Manson shall come as soon as I think of one someone suggests one. Rules: Standard tag. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- SINGLES MATCH "Big Bully" Bruner vs. Chris Raynor --> Matcheez! Rules: Singles. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- TAG TEAM MATCH Winston Churchill (Jimmy the Doom and Fulminatus) vs. The Holy Rollers ("The Paladin" Chance Silver and Matt "Level 42 Priest" Myers) --> New tag team? Hell yes! Rules: Standard tag. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- SINGLES MATCH CIA vs. Blue Leaf --> Former Carnival member CIA takes on a guy who probably could've been a future Carnival member, were the MC still around. Wacky personalities collide! Rules: Standard singles. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- SINGLES MATCH Danny Dagda vs. Saintly C. Killa --> Danny Dagda, SWF Veteran of God knows how long, returns! There are a number of new faces to greet him this time around, the most disturbing of which belongs to Saintly C. Killa! Rules: Singles. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

"Welcome back to Storm, where up next… Alan Clark… will…" says Mak, only to trail off, "What's going on up by the entrance?!" "I have no idea, it's some kind of commotion," adds King as an array of personalities pour out from the back, all attempting to block off the entrance. "I don't know what's going on, but I'll try and… wait!" shouts Francis as Manson emerges, swinging his trademark metal bat as he exits, clearing the way as everyone retreats. "What in the hell?! It's Manson!" "My liege! Our Messiah!" The shirtless Manson keeps swinging wildly at anyone who dares come near, as the crowd now begins to stand and look on in curiosity while murmuring amongst themselves. "What is he doing back out here? He had his match earlier, teaming with Alexander, but what is he up to now?! Why is he fighting off SWF officials and staff?!" "I'm for whatever gets him more much deserved time on Storm." "I'm for whatever keeps him to his customary single appearance, he's been running wild and would have surely been suspended by now were it not for Tom's benevolence. Coming out here now, like this, it just can't be good!" As everyone, from lowly production and tech workers to referees and officials, try to hold him back, he reaches behind the curtain and pulls out a chain, which is connected to… "Wait," says Mak chillingly. "Who is THAT?! He just just pulled someone out from the back, but they're hidden under that ridiculous thing. We gotta find out who's under there!" "It has to be Maddix!" shouts King. "We haven't seen him all night, it's gotta be him! He's gonna put an end to this right now!" As he backs down the ramp, he shouts at the crowd gathering behind him, telling them all to stay back while holding his hostage close with one arm and his bat in the attack position in the other. "It really scares me how much you're into him lately, you know," quips Mak, as Manson slides into the ring, dragging in his unknown prisoner with him. Manson signals for a mic and a frightened valet rushes one over, cautiously placing it on the apron before she hurriedly retreats back. "And I really don't have a good feeling about this," says Mak, rubbing his brow. "I know all of my loyal followers, my subjects…. my Mansonites are wondering--" "BBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" "I'll have you know I went through a lot of trouble bringing this together! For two, let's call it three hours they've sat in the back, chained up and stashed away, just waiting… everything building up to this moment!" "Three hours?! That's the length of Storm and then some, and apart from his match earlier, who knows what else he's been up to now that he's dragged this hapless individual out!" "Now. My guest has been with us since the SJL! They're an integral part of the federation and a former SWF World Champion! In fact, my guest is truly an SWF icon!" "I know it's Landon, he's gonna put him out of our misery for good! I can't tell you how long I've been waiting, Mak," King enthusiastically says. "This right here is a WORLD exclusive which can only be brought to you by MANSONOSITY! And now, Ladies… Gentlemen…" he says, gripping the cloak. "Just get on with it," begs Mak. Yanking off the cloak. "MY guest! The one… and only… MEGAN SKYE!" He shouts, revealing Megan with her hands bound by the chain he holds in his hand with tape over her mouth. "Megan?! MEGAN SKYE?! He's at this point, willing to go this far just to get at Landon?! He's truly sick to go after her!" "Let's have a big round of applause for Megan!" "BBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" "I didn't lie to you and I don't think she appreciates that! She's an accomplished athlete, world renown icon of the SWF! I'm saying she's a true legend, as Landon, Todd Royal, Todd Cortez, and many others will be happy to tell you." "MAN-SON SUCKS!" "MAN-SON SUCKS!" "This is low, never did I think he would stoop to this level. I'm asking if someone, anyone can put an end to this garbage already…" comments Mak, as the horde of officials surround the ring. "That was a cheap shot, I admit it, but… Hey! HEY! For HER SAKE--" screams Manson, who drops the mic and charges at a would-be rescuer, chasing him away with a swing of the bat, before picking up the mic once more, "For Megan, if you take ONE STEP INTO MY RING… You never know what may happen!" "Okay! Let's get down to some business here!" he says, dragging Megan along with him wherever he goes, as he paces the ring. "Landon Maddix! First of all, I don't know what you're thinking! You left this beauty alone at the hotel, but you shouldn't have done that! You just never know who might show up! I can get to you anytime you want… Frankly, I can get to her anytime I want! You… underestimate me, time and time again, thinking I wouldn't do it?! You shouldn't trust a liar and a cheater, a snake in the grass… but you think I'm playing a game here, Landon? You think I'm messing around or am here for your amusement?! Is it funny to you?!" "Well, Landon. Buddy. If you're watching, and I know you probably are as you rush to the arena… Let me ask," he says, as he puts his arm around Megan, "How serious do you think I AM?!" "How serious do you think I am now that Megan… is just feet away from me, in my grasp?! In my control?! I'm saying that right here and now, I'm having lots of fun! The things that I could do." "Before anyone gets ideas, everyone tells me I'm sick… but I'm not that sick. However, I told you what was going on inside here, Landon!" he says, tapping the side of his head with the BUTT of the mic. "I told you there's lots of things happening in here! I said I didn't like it and didn't want to give in! But Landon… You pushed me into it! From now on I can't be held responsible! It's all on your hands now!" "Landon. You. Wouldn't. Give. In! You could've taken the match weeks ago and saved us both the trouble, but now you're pushing me to this?! Even after I told you I didn't know what I was capable of?! You decided to make this into some type of game by screwing up my match, getting involved in my business with CIA?!" "You… ha! You just didn't understand the severity until it was too late, did ya?! Huh?! Let me ask you something here, Megs," he says, ripping the tape away from her mouth. "Does Landon think we're playing tag here or something?! Does he think this is a game?! Does he think I'm only here for his amusement?! Answer!" Putting the mic next to Megan's lips. "YOU SON OF A--" "Whoa! That's enough," he says, pulling the mic away just as quickly. "I won't have that kind of talk on my time!" "But you… just don't grasp the situation either, do you?! You're just as stubborn and prideful as that idiot! Even after Gabriel Drake you still put up a fight here?! Do I even need to remind you?! Yeah… I was pissed at Landon for ducking and avoiding me, but now I'm having plenty of fun, Megs! This is a whole lot of fucking fun for me! The most I ever had! I told and warned him not to underestimate me, not to play me for a fool and just accept, but now I'm kind of glad he did because it's… opened up… a little something. I said I didn't like what I was seeing, but now… imagining Landon in the middle of it… it just feels right!" "Yeah, it feels really good to me, seeing Landon bleed and suffer! He's not just a sacrifice or a stepping stone anymore! This is more than just instinct or even a calling, fate or destiny! I didn't have fun erasing Silver and James from my kingdom, but I'm having lots of fun with this! The truth is I want Landon's blood on my hands! I want my conscience and heart to feel it, to weigh down on me… the brunt of having been the man to end Landon! I want to bash his head in, break his bones, disembowel and slit his goddamn throat! Do you understand the situation now, Megan?! Is it finally reaching you, getting through your skull?! IS IT?!!" he shouts in her face, as tears begin streaming down her face. "I can't watch this anymore, but if he hasn't gone off the deep end before, it's all the more evident. He's beyond our help and compassion, King." "It is disturbing… disturbing that Landon would push the situation this far instead of being a man and accepting." "Would a man do this to a woman?!" "There's… just small one hitch, though. Megs, you know as well as I do that the bastard hasn't accepted, he won't give me the opportunity… and doesn't even have the guts to face me in person and tell me so! Megan. I came to a conclusion and found my answer months ago and even now am I willing to throw myself into this, and now what I want is an answer from you," he says, placing the mic next to her face once more. "Megan. For Landon's sake… will you accept the match at Ground Zero in his place?!" "I… I… can't do…" she manages to stutter out before lowering her head and giving a more direct answer. "…go to hell," she says, in between sobs. "I'm… I didn't hear you there! But… I don't… you know what, I don’t get it. I don’t get you and I sure don't get Landon! Are you that stubborn or is what's there between you that strong… do you love him that much and are willing to say no and tell me… that… just to protect his ego?! You're willing to do that much, do you really have that much conviction?!" he asks, as Megan simply nods. "He finally got his answer… a direct one, at that… can he please let her go now?!" "I can't believe she just told him that… it's just… wrong!" "I see," says Manson, lowering his head, releasing the chain and allowing her to back out of the ring. "It looks like I can't do anything more here…" "Finally," says Mak, breathing a sigh of relief. "See, he's not a monster, Mak! You've misjudged him!" "But you know, Megan… about hell… as I recall, I said… I was already there!" he shouts, dropping the mic and before Megan can move, grabbing her by the hair and wrapping an arm around her head with an inverted facelock. "BBBBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" "SAY WHAT?! MANSON!" screams Mak, but his and the pleas of those surrounding ringside fall on deaf ears, when suddenly… "IT'S LANDON!" shouts Mak, as Maddix screams down the aisle. "HE'S FINALLY HERE!" However… As quickly as Maddix rushes down the aisle, the Messiah lifts Megan up off her feet and spikes her with the inverted brainbuster! "INSTANT HELL MURDER! I can't believe he just… what the hell, Manson?!" As Landon Maddis slides into the ring, Manson disappears just as quickly, having disappeared into the crowd as he makes his way toward the exit. "That bastard is gone just like that! Dammit, Maddix didn't even touch him!" "It was too little, too late. Just a moment or two later and Maddix may have gotten to him, but this… I think Manson may have gone a little far." "He MAY HAVE gone a little far?!" "Hey, don't get angry at me, get angry at Manson! And Landon!" Maddix storms about the ring, kicking and slapping the ropes, even ascending one turnbuckle where he screams at Manson who is soon out the door. But his and everyone else's concern soon turns to Megan, who lies on the mat holding the back of her skull. Kneeling down beside Megan, Landon locks hands with her as the show cuts to commercial.

Kibs vs. Hawke = ???

Tom Flesher leans back in his chair with a cigarette dangling from his lips, desperate to find a lighter, matches, or even a flint at this point to light a cigarette. He grunts in frustration while rummaging through the cluttered desk until he hears an annoying knock in the tune of “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.” Flesher looks up and interrupts the up-and-coming musician by saying, “Come in.” Danny Dagda pokes his head in before protesting, “I wasn’t finished yet, can you name that tune?” “Twinkle, twinkle?” Flesher dubiously answers, since Dagda lacks fundamental rhythm, while still searching for a lighter. “Damn,” Dagda mutters while entering the room. “I was thinking Bohemian Rhapsody.” He watches Flesher’s quest for fire and laughs before pulling a lighter out of his pants, tossing it to him. “Thanks,” Flesher says while trying to light it but to no avail. He brings the lighter near his ear and shakes it, confirming his theory that’s it’s- “Empty,” Dagda points out before continuing, “I was hoping you could throw it away.” Flesher narrows his eyes and says, “Well, I guess you got my memo…” “No,” Dagda cuts him off. “It’s my Spidey Sense.” “So why weren’t you in Germany, Danny? I had to endure the New Jersey Mass Transit system thanks to you,” Flesher cuts to the chase. “I’m sure Cutthroat was crushed I couldn’t make it. But I had a legal problem getting out there,” Dagda begins to explain. Flesher’s eyebrows raise in interest. “Legal?” “Yeah,” Dagda awkwardly begins, rubbing at his neck. “I’m on probation, Tommy Boy.” “Don’t call me…” Flesher begins but figures it’s useless. “What for, Dagda?” “I was working the Indy circuits, makin’ those cash-moneys, you know?” Dagda says while walking over, sitting on the edge of Flesher’s desk. “Okay, so what happened?” “I dropped somebody on their head,” he replied. Flesher fishes for an answer but just shoots a look of confusion since majority of the SWF has made a career of head-drops. “That’s not that unusual…” “In a bar,” Dagda bluntly says. “Oh, so you’re not supposed to leave the United States?” “Probably not,” Danny answers before hurriedly adding, “I know we’re in, where ever we are… actually, I’m just hopin’ my probation officer isn’t an SWF fan.” Flesher nods before replying, “So you’re done until the rest of the tour then?” “Nah, I’m not worried… there aren’t too many SWF fans left now-a-days,” he says with a grin while messing with Flesher’s pen. “But I’ll be gone from the next show, probably should clear up those legal woes.” Flesher stares at Dagda messing with his desk. “Because that’d be a shame if you got locked away.” Dagda looks shocked before blurting, “Now, now you don’t want Daddy Dagda out of action, the fun has barely begun! Speaking of which, when the hell will I get my title shot?” “What title shot?” Dagda hops off the desk and slams his fist against it. “Damn it, Flesh-a-lesh, we signed a contract!” “What contract?” Flesher immediately quips back as Dagda throws him a crumbled paper. He unfolds it before looking up at Dagda. “Danny… this is a blank piece of paper.” “Yeah, better get started on that,” Dagda recommends as he turns around and nearly leaves Flesher’s office before throwing a book of matches behind him. Flesher grumbles and grabs the match book, flipping it open, only to realize there aren’t any matches left. “Damn it, why the hell did I bring Dagda?” To hear an echoing, “Because Daddy Dagda draws, Daddy Dagda draws, Fleshlight!”

“Well folks, coming up next we’ve got another tag team match,” Mak Francis declares as Storm returns from commercial break, “and it pits the team of Austin Sly and Toxxic who were unsuccessful in their bid to win Tag Team gold two weeks ago-” “I hate Wild & Dangerous,” King mutters. “-against the entirely new and quite possibly random pairing of Michael Alexander and MANSON,” Francis finishes, not quite able to keep the note of confusion out of his voice. “Well, I suppose Alexander is the Mad Scientist of the Mat, and MANSON’s certainly mad…” “Sacrilege!” King splutters, “MANSON is not mad! He is just the bearer of the truth, and Francis, you can’t handle the truth!” With that, the arena lights drop and a guttural, distorted warbling bursts forth from the speakers. A few people in the Stade de France rise to their feet and make the metal horns in praise of the Savage Messiah, but most of the audience are definitely not happy… and then with a final growl ‘Scientific Remote Viewing’ by Cephalic Carnage kicks into gear, causing the lights to pulse and smoke to billow up from the soundstage! “Ladies and gentlemen,” Funyon booms, “the following tag team contest is scheduled for one fall; introducing first, from Denver, Colorado; he weighs in tonight at 230lbs, this is the ‘Raging Bull’… MANNNNNNNN-SONNNNNNNNNNNNNN!!” “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “MANSON fell foul of my old pal, the returning CIA last week,” Mak Francis reminds viewers as the cloaked and hooded shape of the match’s first participant appears through the smoke, “although I must admit that the appearance of Landon Maddix on the Smarktron helped matters-” “That treacherous, scheming little asshole!” King spits, “how dare he stick his nose into the Savage Messiah’s business and cause him to lose to that preposterous masked Canadian!? It’s just lucky that MANSON was able to restore balance later in the evening, Francis!” “Yes, because we all know that MANSON is balanced,” Francis sighs as MANSON rolls under the bottom rope and stands upright, chains clanking. Referee Brian Warner steps in and warns him to dispose of his various garb and weaponry, and MANSON sheds his metal bat, then the chains, then the cloak and finally his metal mask. Before more than a couple of moments have passed the sounds of Cephalic Carnage are replaced by Paul Oakenfold’s ‘Dread Rock’, and Da Vinci’s Vetruvian Man appears on the Smarktron before a series of clips depicting the various moves employed by the Raging Bull’s tag partner for the evening. “And his tag team partner,” Funyon declares, “weighing in tonight at 221lbs, he is ‘The Mad Scientist of the Mat’… MIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-CHAEL… ALEX-AAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNNN-DER!!” “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “YOU BOTH SUCK!” “YOU BOTH SUCK!” Michael Alexander appears at the top of the ramp, his normal smirk absent from his face as he heads down towards the ring and the backchat he directs at the fans seems a little more heated than usual. “Michael Alexander also lost last week, as his winning streak finally came to an end in the ladder match for the New Blood Title which he lost to Fulminatus,” The Franchise reminds viewers, “we’ll have to see how he bounces back from that first SWF loss, which can affect people so hard…” “Michael Alexander is a seasoned campaigner, even if we haven’t seen him in the SWF before,” King replies, “he’s a gifted athlete Mak, and he’ll be back to take that belt from Fulminatus in no time, you wait and see. And what’s with the freaks in the masks winning when they shouldn’t!?” the Gambling Man spits with a sudden vehemence as Alexander enters the ring and doesn’t look at MANSON. “MANSON wears a mask, King.” “Not in the ring! And he’s allowed to, anyway!” Brian Warner goes to check Alexander and gets a mouthful for his trouble, while MANSON and the Mad Scientist still seem to be ignoring each other… and then every light hits full, and the Smarktron whites out. For a few seconds all that can be heard is the faint *skritch-skritch* of a needle on vinyl. Then: “WEL-WEL-W-W-WELCOME TO THE REVOLUTION!” The epileptic opening guitar line of Rage Against The Machine’s ‘Know Your Enemy’ starts up, and the Smarktron flashes up the ‘REV-0’ logo, spinning and rotating and intercut with clips of all the members. The stadium lights start to dim down as a little smoke begins to rise from the soundstage, and the Smarktron starts to strobe… and then the main guitar riff hits, and the spinning logo abruptly stops still for a few seconds. *BOOOM!* *BOOOM!* *BOOOM!* “KNOW YOUR ENEMY!” Zack de la Rocha’s voice roars out across the Stade de France, and through the aftermath of the pyro blasts come two figures; one with spiky hair and with his black-and-red canvas trenchcoat flapping behind him over an England soccer shirt, and the other larger and bulkier and wearing a Rancid tee. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “And their opponents,” Funyon booms, “at a combined weight of 458lbs, the team of Austin Sly and ‘The Straight-Edge Sensation’ Toxxic… REVOLUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-TION… ZERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR-OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!” “YOU BOTH SUCK!” “YOU BOTH SUCK!” “Well, the crowd don’t seem to like anyone involved in this match,” Mak Francis comments as Revolution Zero approach the ring, “I think it’s worth pointing out that actually, every single man in this match is coming off a loss, as Sly lost to Jay Hawke last show and he and Toxxic lost to Wild & Dangerous the show before, which was Toxxic’s most recent match… someone’s going to break their losing streak tonight, we’ll just have to see who!” “Losing one match is not a ‘losing streak’, Francis,” King snaps. Sly climbs up the ring steps while Toxxic rolls under the bottom rope, then both men ascend a turnbuckle each and spread their arms wide; Sly with fists clenched, Toxxic with his palms flat to the floor. Having garnered another hostile reaction they drop down to the canvas and Toxxic takes off his coat and shirt while Sly glares over at the opposition. MANSON and Alexander seem to have had some sort of conversation, because the Raging Bull is standing in the ring and his partner is on the apron. Revolution Zero confer briefly, and then Austin Sly turns to start the match for them. *DING-DING-DING!* “Well here we go,” Mak Francis says, “this tag team contest is underway; MANSON the unquestioned veteran with nearly 6 years experience with the company is teaming up with Michael Alexander the SWF rookie, while Sly and Toxxic who have both been around for a bit over three years have the advantage of a couple of matches together as a team.” MANSON strides forward and quickly lunges into a collar-and-elbow tie-up with Austin Sly, who holds his ground as the two men push at each other. MANSON lets out a growl and redoubles his efforts, starting to slowly force Sly back towards the ropes, but the Sly One slips to one side and takes MANSON’s arm with him, twisting it around into an armwringer. Sly then comes behind his opponent and forces the arm up into a chickenwing, before abandoning it and ducking down to pick his opponent’s leg before the Raging Bull can react. MANSON finds himself dumped forward onto his face and Sly reaches out to make the tag to Toxxic, then settles back into a single-leg crab. Brian Warner starts to count as Toxxic vaults into the ring and runs for the ropes, but he’s hardly got to ‘two’ by the time the Englishman has rebounded and sent a basement dropkick into the leg that Sly is wrenching backwards on! *SMACK!* MANSON rolls away clutching his leg while Sly exits the ring; meanwhile Toxxic boosts himself up into a sitting position on the turnbuckles in the Rev-0 corner and settles himself to wait. Brian Warner starts to administer the usual five-count, but Toxxic has MANSON in his sights and as the Savage Messiah gets back up to his feet the straight-edger comes off the second buckle with a flying European uppercut! “Good technique there from Toxxic,” Francis admits, “he beat MANSON a few weeks ago in a singles match, but it was a close thing and he won’t want to give his opponent a chance to build momentum.” Sure enough, Toxxic has grabbed hold of MANSON’s leg and is towing the Raging Bull back towards the Revolution’s corner, where he reaches out to tag Austin Sly and then extends MANSON’s leg to drape it over the second rope. Sly takes hold of the top rope and jumps up, then shows impressive agility for a 240lb man by springboarding off into a kneedrop to the vulnerable limb! “I don’t care what sort of Messiah you are, that’s gonna hurt!” Francis exclaims as MANSON rolls away clutching his leg, “Revolution Zero seem to have targeted MANSON’s leg, and it’ll be difficult for him to launch any of his signature high-impact offence without a stable base to work from.” Sly goes in pursuit of the Raging Bull and hauls him up to his feet, then ducks down and wraps both arms around his opponent’s waist as he looks for a Northern Lights suplex. However, MANSON is in no mood to be thrown over his opponent’s head and simply launches into a barrage of clubbing forearm blows that hammer down onto Sly’s back and knock any idea of suplexing out of him, then straightens Sly up and delivers a headbutt! Sly staggers back and MANSON heads in after him, grabbing the Missouri native around the torso and hoisting him off his feet to plant him back down with a belly-to-belly slam! *BANG!* MANSON looks briefly over at his corner where Michael Alexander is calling for a tag, then snorts and goes into a mount position to rain down right hands on the Sly One. Sly covers up and most of them simply land on his arms, while Brian Warner makes his count… ‘ONE!’ ‘TWO!’ ‘THREE!’ ‘FOUR!’ ‘FI-’ MANSON breaks off and rises back to his feet, rounding on the referee and demanding to know what he thinks he’s doing- *CRUNCH!* -and Austin Sly slams both feet into MANSON’s weakened leg! The Raging Bull staggers sideways and in a half-circle, only just managing to remain on his feet, and Sly scrambles back up before launching himself into a chopblock that takes MANSON back down to the mat! Deciding that now is a good a time as any, Sly rolls his bearded opponent into a pin… ONE! TW- -but MANSON kicks out before two! Sly gets back to his feet and tags Toxxic back in, then turns back to MANSON and delivers a knee lift to the gut that prevents the Denver native from making it all the way back to his feet. Sly then bends down and folds MANSON’s leg up, hoists him off the ground… …and Toxxic comes off the top buckle to help deliver a spike shinbreaker! *CRACK!* “Ouch!” Mak Francis yells, “I felt that!” “How could you feel that?” King scoffs, “you can’t even feel your own legs!” *WHAP!* “All I’m saying is that empathic pain recognition must surely be reduced when-” *WHAP!* “STOP HITTING ME!” MANSON rolls away from the Rev-0 corner towards where Michael Alexander still has his hand outstretched, but Toxxic cuts him off with a couple of stomps to the midsection. The Straight-Edge Sensation then heads away from his opponent and steps out through the ring ropes to the apron, where he stands next to the ring post in one of the neutral corners. The Englishman grabs the top rope and jumps up to it… …across to the top turnbuckle, facing out to the crowd… …and backflips off for a moonsault! *BANG!* “No-one home!” King calls as MANSON rolls away at the last moment, “MANSON’s telepathic powers allowed him to perfectly predict Toxxic’s strategy!” “Toxxic bringing out the Radford Calling for the first time in a long time,” Mak notes, “and perhaps the lack of practice showed!” “Pshaw!” King snorts, “the move was fine Francis, it’s just MANSON was better!” The Savage Messiah is struggling back to his feet, no easy task when one of your legs is mutinying against you, but MANSON is nothing if not determined and he manages to get upright, then clings onto the ropes for support as he head towards Alexander. Toxxic is also getting up and the Englishman knows he doesn’t want the fresh man in the ring so he heads after MANSON… …Michael Alexander points desperately behind his tag partner… …and MANSON whirls around to nail Toxxic with a Roaring elbow! *KER-RACK!* “YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Toxxic getting hit hard in the face brings out the first positive response from the crowd in this match, but MANSON only just manages to stay on his feet; with the Straight-Edge Sensation flat on his back the Raging Bull turns and hobbles along again, still using the ropes for support, then tags in Michael Alexander. “Michael Alexander has acquitted himself well in the New Blood Division,” Mak notes, “but now he’s in the ring with the longest-reigning World Champion in history; will that be a step up too far, or will he be able to hang with Toxxic?” Well, for the moment at least it seems that Alexander will be doing alright because he simply walks up to the dazed Englishman and treads on his throat, causing Warner to launch into a furious five count while Alexander raises one arm and starts declaiming loudly: ‘ONE!’ ‘To be or not to be, that is the question-’ ‘TWO!’ ‘-whether ‘tis nobler in the mind- ‘THREE!’ ‘-to bear the slings and arrows out outrageous fortune-’ ‘FOUR!’ ‘-or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing-’ ‘FI-’ ‘-end them.’ Alexander finishes smugly, stepped back off Toxxic’s throat a millisecond before the DQ point. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “That’s what you get for quoting Hamlet,” Francis informs Alexander sagely, as the Mad Scientist of the Mat looks shocked at his reception. “Besides, hasn’t he got something better to taunt an Englishman with than Shakespeare?” “Apparently not,” King replies as Alexander takes a couple of steps towards Austin Sly, inviting the Sly One to step into the ring. Austin is too wily a competitor to fall for that trick and simply responds to the Mad Scientist’s taunts with some colourful verbiage of his own, with accompanying hand gestures. Alexander sighs and turns around… just in time to find that Toxxic really doesn’t like having his throat stood on. *whump-CRACK!* “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” The crowd likes to see a pompous ass get kicked in the head, and the kip-up enzuigiri is usually good for a pop anyway; the combination means that Toxxic now gets cheered for the first time in a little while. Alexander topples forwards and Toxxic gets back to his feet, rubbing his throat and glaring darkly at his opponent before heading over to his corner and tagging Austin Sly back in. Brian Warner starts making a five-count but Toxxic grabs Alexander as the Mad Scientist gets up off the mat, then shoves him towards Sly. The bigger Revolutionary drives a knee into Michael’s gut, then applies a double underhook. Toxxic picks up Alexander’s legs and- *BANG!* -Sly drops down to spike his opponent’s head into the mat! “Assisted double-arm DDT!” Mak calls, “and that looked nasty for Alexander!” Austin Sly rolls Alexander over into the cover as Toxxic exits the ring… ONE! TWO!! …but Alexander kicks out! Sly sighs and pulls Alexander up from the mat, then takes hold of his head and starts to twist around for a neckbreaker, but the Mad Scientist fires a few back elbows into Sly’s head and causes him to release his grip. Sly rounds on his opponent but Alexander delivers a spinning back kick to the Sly One’s gut, then grabs Austin’s wrist and Irish whips him towards the ropes… which Sly reverses to send Alexander into them instead! The South Carolinan rebounds as Sly ducks his head for a back bodydrop, but Michael manages to kill his momentum and nails Sly with a facebuster, which he chains into a Russian Leg Sweep. *BANG!* “Whiplash!” Mak shouts as Alexander rolls over into the pin… ONE! TW- -broken up by Toxxic! “Is that Toxxic showing distrust of his partner’s abilities after that loss to Wild & Dangerous?” Francis asks. “Hardly,” King snorts, “Sly would have kicked out anyway, but why let your partner waste the energy if you can break the pin yourself? That’s teamwork, Mak.” Alexander is quickly back up to his feet to retaliate, but Warner has already taken the situation under control and forces Toxxic back out of the ring. Grabbing a chunk of his opponent’s hair, the Evil Genius looks posed to take control of the match - *DING!* - until he’s greeted with a low blow! Sly pushes himself back to his feet and takes off running for the ropes, bounces off, then grabs hold of Alexander’s head on the way by connecting with a picture perfect Tornado DDT! First delivering two kicks to Michael’s side, Austin grabs his opponent and pulls him back up to his feet. Sly continues to kick away at the midsection of the Evil Genius, backing him up into a neutral corner and forcing Warner to issue a five count. ‘ONE!’ ‘TWO!’ ‘THREE!’ ‘FOUR!’ Sly backs out of the corner before Warner can finish his count, not wanting to get his team disqualified. “Sly shows a bit of his vicious side there,” Mak notes. “I love it when Sly gets aggressive,” King smiles. “Uh…” “Don’t you even dare make a gay joke.” The Revolutionary makes his way back into the corner and grabs his opponent by the hand, looking to send him across the ring with an Irish Whip. It’s reversed, though, and Austin goes crashing back first into the turnbuckles! Alexander follows him in and connects with a dropkick to his knee, knocking Austin down, only being able to support himself using the ropes. The Professor of Pain grabs Sly by the hair and drags him over to his corner to tag in MANSON. Lifting his opponent’s arm and holding back his leg, Alexander exposes Austin’s side allowing MANSON to deliver a kick that sends him reeling. God Machine stalks his opponent, waiting for him to turn so that he can deliver a smashing headbutt that knocks Austin down to the mat! Austin tries to climb back to his feet, but he’s helped back up by MANSON. The Sly One swings with his right hand, but it’s ducked and he’s quickly put into a waistlock before being lifted up and over with a German Suplex! *WHAM!* “The MASONITES are going crazy,” King pauses, “listen, Mak! Isn’t it amazing?” “I don’t hear anything…” Austin isn’t so quick to get up this time, allowing MANSON to pull him up. When he does, however, Sly greets him with a kick to the midsection! Sly runs the ropes, receiving a slap on the back from Toxxic as he bounces off, before launching into the air and hitting a knee drop bulldog on MANSON! “Blind tag by Toxxic, showing more distrust in his partner,” Mak states. “Oh come on!” King retorts as Toxxic vaults to the top buckle in one easy motion, “that’s a slick team that knows how to work together!” Toxxic raises both arms above his head and come off the top with a somersault legdrop that lands across MANSON’s throat- *BANG!* “Hangover from Toxxic!” Mak shouts, “will MANSON kick out?” ONE! TWO!! TH- -broken up by Michael Alexander! “Now, is that Michael Alexander showing a lack of trust in MANSON?” King demands. “Probably!” “Mak, how can anyone not trust MANSON!? You’re not making sense!” Now it’s Toxxic’s turn to show some anger at Alexander as the Mad Scientist of the Mat is hustled back out of the ring by Brian Warner. It’s perhaps this distraction that causes Toxxic to not pay quite as much attention as he should do when pulling MANSON up off the mat, with the result that the Raging Bull is able to reach up and- ‘Yaargh!’ “-and MANSON goes to the eyes,” Mak notes clinically as the Englishman staggers backwards away from his probably-delusional opponent, “the sure sign of a Messiah.” “It worked for Jesus.” The Savage Messiah gets back to his feet and, with Toxxic blinded, launches into a spin to deliver a stunning kesagiri chop… …but Toxxic ducks, his vision apparently clearing at the last moment! MANSON continues his spin, off-balance, and Toxxic pops back to his full height before unloading with punches! RIGHT! LEFT! RIGHT! LEFT! Windup… DISCUS CLOTHESLINE! …ducked! Toxxic staggers past MANSON, who sets himself and waits for the unbalanced straight-edger to turn around again, then wraps his right arm across Toxxic’s chest and heaves backwards to send his opponent flying overhead with a Urinage suplex! *BANG!* “What power from MANSON!” Mak gasps as Toxxic lands hard, “…but look at his leg King, that throw seems to have jarred it, maybe he put too much weight on it…” Sure enough, the Savage Messiah’s limp has returned as he gets up and clumps towards Toxxic. He rolls the winded Englishman over onto his front and starts trying to lock Toxxic’s legs in place against his own for the Imperial March, but he’s instinctively set it up against his injured leg and the pain evidently gives even MANSON some pause. As a result the Raging Bull stops and tries to set it up with Toxxic’s legs locked against his unhurt leg, but the Straight-Edge Sensation has got some of his breath back now and is able to struggle against it. With his opponent not co-operating MANSON gives it up as a bad job and takes a step to kick Toxxic in the side of the head, then bends down and starts bringing the former World Champion off the canvas. “MANSON needs to stay on Toxxic here,” Mak says, “he’s a slippery customer, and MANSON will want revenge for their match a few weeks ago; he just needs to make sure that doesn’t make him do anything rash!” “MANSON cannot do anything rash,” King argues, “he always does things exactly as he means to, he just assesses situations and reacts in ways far quicker than a normal human could!” Toxxic gets dragged upwards into a standing position by the Savage Messiah, who places the Englishman in a front facelock, leans down and hooks his opponent’s leg and then snaps up and sideways to bring Toxxic over with a swinging Fisherman’s suplex! *BANG!* “Three-handled-” Mak begins. ONE! “-Moss-Covered-” TWO!! “-Family-Gren-” TH- “-doza-and-the-bridge-collapsed!” the Franchise gushes to a halt, unable to quite get the words out quick enough, “that knee gave way King!” Sure enough, MANSON is now lying on his side holding his leg, unable to maintain his pinning bridge following the Three-Handled Moss-Covered Family Grendoza. The Savage Messiah seems to feel this disappointment bitterly, and takes it out by punching Toxxic in the face as the Englishman tries to recover his breath on the canvas. Brian Warner isn’t best happy about that, but since when did MANSON care about referees? He waves the official away and starts to get back to his feet, but he again begins to pull Toxxic up with him. “King, I think Revolution Zero’s tactics really are making sense,” Mak admits, “MANSON is not a mat wrestler, he’s an explosive powerhouse. Without a stable base to lift and throw or to strike from, and no ability to run for the Zantetsuken, he’s reduced to either a poor man’s version of his usual game, or trying to adapt his style on the fly to accommodate his injury.” “MANSON is never a poor man’s version of anything!” King snaps. “…or he could tag in Michael Alexander,” Mak muses, “but he only seems to want to acknowledge his partner when he has no alternative…” MANSON has brought Toxxic up with him, most of his moves relying on velocity and force that can’t be harnessed when his opponent is on the canvas, and ducks his head to cause the Englishman to slump across his shoulders. He sets himself and, with visible effort, powers back up to his full height with Toxxic in a Fireman’s carry! “He’s fighting through the pain!” King shouts, “all hail MANSON!” Toxxic realises that he’s not in a good position and starts trying to kick his legs to slip off his opponent’s shoulders, but MANSON is determined and shoves his opponent into the air, then drops backwards for the Piecemaker… but notably, only lifts one knee up. *CRUNCH!* “MANSON didn’t get all of that,” Francis notes as Toxxic bounces away, “only using one leg threw his balance, Toxxic more sort of bounced off than landed hard!” “It’ll be enough,” King warns, “all MANSON needs to do is incapacitate Toxxic for a moment…” The Savage Messiah has got back up to his feet and sets his sights on the man clutching his chest. Toxxic is also trying to rise, but he doesn’t seem to know where MANSON is (or care if he does, he’s clearly in some pain), and so MANSON raises his right arm, then turns and heads for the ropes. His limp is pronounced, but he’s still able to build up some momentum as he turns and rebounds, heading towards his opponent with his arm scything forwards for the Zantetsuken… …some momentum, but not enough. Toxxic hears him approach, turns around and drops out of the way. *BANG!* “Drop toehold!” Mak shouts, “…into the Regal Stretch! He’s got it locked in!” Toxxic has quickly jammed one of MANSON’s legs into the crook of the other, secured the leg lace and reached forward to hook his right arm under MANSON’s left and grab a ¾ facelock. The Savage Messiah roars in pain and reaches out for the ropes, but they are a long way away and he only has one arm to drag himself across the mat with… …but he does have Michael Alexander, who runs into the ring and delivers a boot to Toxxic’s back that breaks up the submission! Toxxic rolls off his opponent and looks like he’s about to head after the Mad Scientist, but Brian Warner gets in the way and reminds the Englishman of who he’s meant to be hurting rather than the annoying rookie on the outside. Toxxic consents with bad grace and turns around to find MANSON just getting back to his feet… *CRUNCH!* …and in a headbutting mood! Toxxic staggers back, shakes his head to clear it… *CRUNCH!* …and steps back in to nail the surprised Savage Messiah with a headbutt of his own! “Those Stephens kids have hard heads, and MANSON’s just found that out!” Mak calls as MANSON staggers. However, the Denver native collects himself and steps forwards just as Toxxic rears back again… *KER-RUNCH!* *whump* *whump* “YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “Both men down!” Francis cries as Toxxic and MANSON slump backwards to the mat having headbutted each other as hard as they can, “who can recover first? Who can make the first tag!” MANSON may be a self-reliant Messiah, but even they have to know their limits. The bearded wrestler turns groggily towards his corner and starts crawling in the direction of Michael Alexander’s outstretched hand. On the other side of the ring Austin Sly waits impatiently for his partner to make his own painfully slow progress across the canvas… *smak* *smak* “Alexander’s in, Sly’s in, and this match is hanging in the balance!” Mak shouts as Sly and Alexander step through the ropes and rush each other. Alexander leaves his feet to sail through the air and nail Sly with a flying forearm smash, then scrambles on top for a pin… ONE! TW- -but Sly kicks out! Alexander looks to bring him up, but Sly hooks his opponent’s head and leg and rolls backwards into a small package… ONE! TW- -but Alexander kicks out! He goes to the eyes as both men try and scramble upright, then heaves Sly up off the mat across his chest. For a moment it looks as though Alexander is wondering if he can pull this off, but then he swings Sly out and around into a backbreaker over one knee! “Foucalt’s Pendulum!” Mak shouts, “I’m surprised he managed to hit it, but he hit it well!” And he covers well as well, hooking Sly’s leg and rolling into the pin… ONE! TWO!! TH- -but Sly kicks out again! Alexander slaps the mat in frustration, pulls Sly up and this time positions himself behind the man from Missouri. He starts to lift… “Event Horizon!” King shouts. …but Sly flips over backwards and lands behind the surprised Mad Scientist, then launches himself forwards into a chopblock! Alexander falls backwards with a cry, and Sly reaches across to tag Toxxic back into the match. The slightly groggy Englishman re-enters the ring and Sly drags Alexander up, then before his opponent can react he locks in a front facelock, drapes his arm across Alexander’s shoulders in a vertical suplex-esque position and lifts him up. However, instead of pulling him all the way up and over he simply puts Alexander’s legs back down onto Toxxic’s shoulders and, in one swift movement, Revolution Zero falls to the side hitting an impressive rolling neckbreaker! *BANG!* “Michael Alexander, Welcome to the Revolution,” King smiles. Toxxic rolls over onto Michael, pinning his shoulders while Austin takes off across the ring to block MANSON from interfering. ONE! TWO!! THREE!!! *DING-DING-DING!* “Here are your winners,” Funyon declares as ‘Know Your Enemy’ rings out, “Austin Sly and Toxxic, REVOLUUUUUUUUUUU-TION… ZEEEEEEERRRRRRRRR-OOOOOOOOOOOOO!!” “MANSON and Alexander gave them a good fight, but it looks like the experience of Revolution Zero was just too much for them to overcome,” Mak says as Sly and Toxxic celebrate. “As much as I respect MANSON and Alexander for what they’ve done individually in recent weeks,” King says, “they just didn’t have chemistry together that Sly and Toxxic do.” “You mean blind tags?” “Sure, that…” Sly and Toxxic are seen backing up the ramp, not thinking about their win today, but with only one things on their minds. Tag Team Gold. FADE OUT