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The Smartmark's Wrestling Federation Presents... SWF CLUSTERFUCK! LIVE, SUNDAY, JANUARY 29th, FROM THE SOLD OUT STAPLES CENTER IN LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA! (official PPV song will be edited in soon) (7:00pm PST, 10:00pm EST; check local listings) -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- The Main Event - SWF World Heavyweight Championship Match El Luchadore Magnifico © vs. JJ Johnson ---> JJ Johnson, who has been absolutely unstoppable in the past few months, finally makes it to the top. His domination of the Cold Front Classic has earned him a World Heavyweight Championship match at one of the biggest Pay Per Views. Standing in his way, however, is one of the most dominant SWF Champions we have ever seen. El Luchadore Magnifico has had a death grip on the title since he won it, and he has not shown any signs of slowing down since then. Is tonight the night that the impossible will finally happen? Can JJ Johnson beat the unbeatable? Or will Magnifico continue to his history-making title reign, and still be the champion when From the Fire rolls around? Rules: Sandard singles match. -=-=-=-=-=- -=-=-THE CLUSTERFUCK-=-=- ---> The Clusterfuck! What else can I say? Well, some stuff, I guess. Since it's inception, the 'Fuck has put IGN/SWF Superstars to the test, pushing them to their limits. The winner gets a title shot at From the Fire, but more importantly, he joins a truly elite group of people - people like Pimp Daddy Sarp, "Grand Slam" Mark Stevens, Taylor Nicholas Thompson, Charlie Matthews, and Landon Maddix! The winner's name will go down in history as being one of the few who were strong enough, brave enough, worthy enough to survive the Clusterfuck! 1. "Hollywood" Spike Jenkins 2. ??? 3. ??? 4. ??? 5. ??? 6. ??? 7. ??? 8. ??? 9. ??? 10. ??? 11. ??? 12. ??? 13. ??? 14. ??? 15. ??? 16. ??? 17. ??? 18. ??? 19. ??? 20. ??? Rules: The #1 and #2 entrants start in the ring. Every two minutes, another wrestler will enter. A wrestler is eliminated when they are thrown over the top rope and both feet hit the floor. When it gets down to three men left, the match becomes a triple threat, with the first pin deciding the winner. -=-=-=-=-=- SWF International Championship Match Jay Hawke © vs. Wildchild ---> These two do not like each other. It is certifiable fact. Seriously, it's in the Encyclopedia. Look it up. I'll wait. ... Done? Good. Jay Hawke's run with the International Championship is nothing short of astonishing/amazing/super duper, but this time he may have bitten off more than he can chew. A pissed off Wildchild is not a good opponent to have, and after several clashes in recent weeks, it might just be time for Hawke's fifteen minutes to run out. Rules: Standard singles match. -=-=-=-=-=- SWF Ultraviolent Championship Match - Japanese Deathmatch - Best of Five Bruce Blank © vs. "The Divine Wind" Akira Kaibatsu ---> The Best of Five comes down to one last match - how fitting it is, then, that the tie breaker be the most violent of them all! The Japanese Deathmatch, world renowned for its brutality, indecency, and overall ickiness, sets the stage for the final showdown! Will Bruce walk out with his record-breaking championship in tact? Or will Akira finally dethrone the champion, and begin a historical run of his own? Rules: The match is fought to a pinfall or submission, inside an electrified steel cage. And, if there is no decision within fifteen minutes, the cage sort of... you know... EXPLODES~! Mwahahahahahahahahahahahaha! -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

“NIGHT OF FIRE!” The portion of the crowd who has filed into their seats for the Frost pre-show stand and cheer triumphantly for baby-face Ced Ordonez as the lights fade their signs and smiling faces away into thin air. ”FIRE!” Out of nowhere pillars of fire momentarily consume the stage and radiate electricity throughout the crowd. Just as soon as they came they leave, revealing the crowd favorite in the match-up, Ced Ordonez. “Ced Ordonez is set to kick things off here tonight in the Clusterfuck pre-show, Frost, against new-comer Michael Cross!” Pete blurts out more than excited for the show to get its official kick-off. Ced stands atop the stage walking around excitedly along to his high energy entrance music “Night of Fire” by Niko as the crowd offers him a warm and welcome response. He walks side to side and yells to fans pumping them up before returning to the center of the stage and proceeding to jog his way down to the ring. He turns with his arms out and then does the semi-hand-bow as if to say he’s not worthy of the fans, who extend their hands to him. The Bemani Cross Wizard smiles and then continues his jog to the far turnbuckle where he stops, bows his head for a moment, then slides his way into the ring and crosses it to make his standard-face pose for the fans atop the turnbuckle. Just as he hops down and begins to stretch out his legs, the lights cut out completely and send the crowd into a hushing silence. “Looks like the new-comer is finally ready to make his debut in front of a live SWF audience, King. We’ve seen some buildup in the weeks leading to tonight, and now we’re finally ready to see him,” Pete stops and awes aside King, both waiting for the entrance. Several moments pass creating a feeling of discomfort before finally a dark-red spotlight flickers into full effect and leads the way up to the ramp, outlining a hooded figure. Another moment passes, and then the dark keyboard for the opening to “Colony” by In Flames kicks in followed directly by the opening guitar riffs. As the music explodes into full rhythm, a plethora of dark red and black strobe lights overtake the arena and turn it into a virtual light-show as the dark red spotlight follows the grim-like walk of Michael Cross down the ramp, where he stops. “Certainly a great impression made by the debuting Cross,” Pete proclaims enthusiastically, “Though, from what we’ve seen, Cross seems to have some personal problems, and they seem to be finding their way into everything this guy does, even his entrance!” “Problems? Then why the hell is he in the SWF? I certainly didn’t approve this guy,” King spouts of typically for the first time in response to Cross’ debut, “If I didn’t approve, then why is he here!” Pete lets the last comment roll of his chest with a quick glance to King, who looks stubbornly on at Cross who’s paused just at the bottom of the ramp, who now proceeds forward, eagerly and angrily marching his way to the closest right corner of the ring, where he stops for the second time. The music hits its low point, and the fans watch interested but unenthusiastically at the new-comer who is set to clash with their hero. “C’mon, guy, move a bit faster,” King demands frustrated at the pace at which Cross has made his entrance, “The quicker this match is finished, the sooner these two goons can disappear from my sight!” Once again Pete gives a glancing glair to King who again childishly acts smug, however, Longdogger remains enthralled by the mysticism which has followed the young and unique Cross to the ring. Finally, Cross is ready to make a move to the ring, the music fires up again, and Cross swipes away his hood and stamps his way up to the apron. He wipes his feet respectively before dipping under the third rope and spiraling his way into the middle of the ring recklessly where he kneels down as the music hits its conclusion. He waits a moment, then hops up and begins removing his beanie and hoodie, preparing for the match. Opposite Cross stands The Bemani Cross Wizard who is more than ready to go. The referee stalks into the ring, gives a brief smile to Ced acknowledging his refereeing duty, and then rolls his wrists preparing for the start of the match. He explains to both men that this is a singles match, normal rules applying, and then signals for the bell – we’re set to get going underway. Ced stretches one last time, and then attempts to take a circle once around the ring, but is interrupted by the reckless and violently with a fury of chops and elbows that stagger the Bemani Cross Wizard and catch him off guard. “We’re underway, Cross wasting no time getting straight to work on Ordonez,” Pete explains thoroughly, “However, it appears as if Ced has regained his composure, defending against the eager Michael Cross appropriately.” In the ring, Ordonez promptly blocks several of Cross’ fury strikes and quickly takes back control of the beginning of this match, pressing Cross to the ropes and then whipping him straight across the ring. Cross rebounds and slides underneath a high kick attempt from Ordonez who fires around and is met with an arm drag from Cross who quickly gets back to his feet. Ordonez hops back to his feet and fires back at the eager Cross with a drop toe hold on Cross who charges right into Ced’s trap. Cross picks his head up, and checks his teeth with his hand then moves it from his mouth to his long black hair, cleaning it off of his face, ignoring Ordonez who is stalking him from behind. “Cross is making a rookie mistake here, ignoring the Bemani Cross Wizard who is more than capable of submitting his opponents,” Pete rings out, looking to King for some input, who leans back folding his hands over his stomach, uninterested in the action going on in the ring. Cross quickly realizes his mistake, but is too late to resume his position, as Ordonez wastes no time going to work on Cross’ left leg delivering stomp after stomp. Cross agonizes in pain, and then shakes off his minor wound and returns to his feet fending off the quick Ordonez. Ordonez backs off, and Cross stands back to his feet, humbled by his opening match defeat to Ced Ordonez. Ced smiles, and then takes a circular lap around the ring, as Cross stands in the center, following him creepily and gloomily waiting for the Bemani Cross Wizard to make his next move. “Cross is defiantly a daunting figure, there’s no doubt about that, but it’s clear that Ced has had his number twice now,” Pete gives a hand of applause to both men, who recover from their opening match errors and then rethink their plans. Ordonez takes a hard step at Cross, and then ties up with him. They fight for position, but Cross is overpowered and locked into a hammer lock. Cross stumbles forward, holds his right arm, consoling the pain with a brief smile, then quickly drops to a sitting position, extending his arm straight up as he turns and grabs a hold of the arm that had previously held his own hostage. Cross stands with Ordonez’s arm, and then begins to torque the wrist, ringing out his arm and taking control of his back. Mike lifts the waist of Ced and then drops him down take-down style, and then again takes control of his back. “Excellent show of chain wrestling on both men’s parts,” Longdogger adds to the now slowing action presented by Ordonez and Cross. Cross digs in deep on the arm opposite of his position on Ordonez with a nasty looking cross-face. He barriers his head in Ced’s side and pulls the arm through looking for a variation of a pin, however, Ordonez rolls through and uses Cross’ position and arm to regain leverage lifting himself to his feet to a standing position where he turns and delivers a gut clenching kick to Cross’ stomach which sends him hurling to his side in agony. Not for long, though, Cross regains composure and attempts to fend off a kick, but to no avail. One after another, Ordonez continues delivering stiff and thunderous kicks to the chest and stomach on a seated Michael Cross who takes them one after another, slowly moving back to a standing position as he absorbs the punishment dished out after each solid blow. Finally Cross gets back to a standing position, but is staggering. Ordonez launches off the ropes and thunders in a nasty knee shot straight to Cross’ gut, who folds in a standing position like a 25 cent Halmark card. Ordonez pauses, then again launches into the ropes, rebounding now as Cross nearly keels over to his stomach. Ordonez jumps just above Cross’ head and then comes crashing down with two feet driving him face first into the mat. The crowd goes absolutely wild as Cross has been nearly decimated by the double-stomp delivered by The Bemani Cross Wizard himself. The crowd pops as Longdogger recites the action by heart while King acts uninterested despite his best attempts to cover up his interest. Ordonez signals to the crowd, and then rolls Cross’ body over for the pin. The referee slides into position as if this match is clearly out of reach. ONE…. “TWO…” Longdogger now announcing along with the count “NO!” the crowd responds enticed by the impressive stomp that nearly put away Cross who manages to kick out at the last second. Ordonez looks to the ref, then shrugs off the failed pin attempt and goes back to work wasting no time putting Cross into a cross knee lock. Cross agonizes silently, and then works to break the lock, but to no avail as Ordonez continues to work the left leg like there’s no tomorrow. Cross looks to the ropes, but realizes it’s too far as the referee asks if he wants to submit. Cross wiggles his right leg free as he signals the referee away and goes to town on the chest of Ordonez with a number of stiff boots. Ced gives it a minute, then abandons the hold and quickly gets to his feet, followed closely by Cross who wastes no time in having a go at Ordonez. “The in-experience of Cross is making his a-game look over-matched here tonight,” Longdogger respectfully forks out what he sees as Cross begins to once again be overpowered due to sloppy execution. Ordonez wrings the arm out, and takes control of the back with a hammer lock. Ced yanks up on the arm hard putting Cross up on his tip-toes. Mike drags his feet out a bit and attempts the sit maneuver which had garnered him success earlier, however, Ordonez has it well scouted. Ced lets go immediately and delivers a thunderous kick to Cross’ back, who pinches his shoulder blades together in agony. Ced rears back and delivers another kick to the back, this time Cross begins to make movement to a standing position, the fans cheering on Ordonez, who is now standing toe to toe with Cross. “Cross making his way back to his feet, and once again we see the Bemani Cross Wizard and Michael Cross square off face to face,” PLD watches on. “Is it really important to call this match, I mean, these guys couldn’t even carry my jock!” King plays it cool, ignoring his ignorant statement as Pete gets a look of utter disgust on his face. Back to the action in the ring, Cross and Ced are chopping and punching each other stiffly fighting back and forth. Ced steps into it and really wallops Cross on the chest with a nasty chop that leaves a red mark and a ringing sound in everyone’s ears. Cross shrugs off the pain and delivers a nasty chop of his own, this one leaving a stinging red mark down the chest of Ordonez similar to a racing stripe on a car. Ordonez wears it proudly and then responds yet again, this time with chop after chop, the crowd cheering loudly as Cross begins to retreat stumbling around the ring while holding his chest. The Bemani Cross Wizard stalks behind him and then pushes Cross’ head down bending him over. Ced lifts his leg and delivers a homerun kick sending his shin colliding with Cross’ face bowling him over backwards so hard that he rolls through to his stomach. “OOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHH!” the crowd responds astonished at the absolutely devastating kick delivered by Ordonez. “What force displayed!” Pete looks on at the action intently. The referee slides into position as Ced turns Cross awkwardly over to his back to make the cover. ONE…! TWO…...! THREE, NO! Cross manages to slide a foot over onto the rope, as Ced looks on shocked that he still hasn’t been able to put his opponent away. The referee holds up two fingers and shakes his head, despite the fact that Ced has already gone back to work. Standing now, Ced picks a lazy Cross up by his hair and drags him back to the center of the ring. Ced winds up and delivers a thunderous round house kick to the neck of a wobbly Cross who collapses to the ground with ease like a cardboard box under a foot. Ced quickly rolls him to his back and makes another cover as the ref slides into position. ONE…! TWO…..! KICKOUT! “Not even close,” says Pete astonished at yet another kick out despite Ced’s vicious best efforts to put Cross to sleep with trauma to the head. Ced sighs, and then stands and turns to the crowd signaling for his finishing move, the Fire Soul. He walks over to Cross and stomps away at the back of his head, then precedes to drags him over to the corner. He signals yet again to the pleasure of the crowd, and then works his way to the top of the turnbuckle. “Here we go, Ced is setting himself up for the Fire Soul,” Longdogger spouts off excitedly, “You’re about to witness something special!” Ced stands, raises his arms, and then descends in motion looking for his finishing move. Through mid-air, Cross fires out of the way and Ced comes crashing down, rolling through the end and swaying back to his feet, the momentum carrying him forward, back turned to Cross who quickly jolts to his feet. Ced stumbles and then turns around only to be met with crushing running enziguri which sends Ced collapsing to his side. Cross takes a moment to catch his breath, and then guns back to his feet, pulling Ced up with him. “Cross has just switched the momentum of this match back into his favor for the first time all night,” claims Longdogger so certainly, “Up to now, Cross has taken a lot of damage to his head, let’s see how he’s able to fair.” Back in the ring, Cross has pressed Ced up to the corner and beginning to chop the chest of Ordonez again and again. Ordonez takes a breather after each one, but Cross doesn’t let up. Cross rears back and then drives a thudding left knee to the gut of Ordonez who sucks in air and folds in half. Cross takes the opportunity and delivers a right knee, then a left, and then steps up to the second and uses its leverage to deliver one nasty last knee to the face of Ced who falls back into the corner and down into a seated position lazily unable to move. Cross flies off the ropes parallel to the set left of where Ced is seated, runs, and then drives two vicious knees to his face. The crowd delivers a stunned “OOOOOOOO,” in response as Ced’s body rolls over in dismay, his head hanging somewhat out of the ring now. “An absolutely destructive double knee-like strike driven to the face and sternum of Ced Ordonez, and he looks to be out, ‘folks,” proclaims Pete, “It’s not looking good for the Bemani Cross Wizard right now.” Cross taunts to the crowd a bit, who respond accordingly with a boo. Cross ignores it, and drags the leg of Ced, pulling his body to the center of the ring. He signals to the ref who jumps into position to make the count as Cross drops his body over Ced’s for the pin. ONE…! TWO……! THR…NO, KICKOUT! Ced’s body pulls a convulsion-like flinch that just allows him to get his arm up, lifting his shoulder to break the sloppy pin attempted by Cross. “What a mistake made by the youngster, this should’ve been all wrapped up,” Longdogger lectures disappointed, “This kid’s got a lot to learn, here in the SWF.” Cross glares at the ref and questions him on the two count. The ref just flashes him two fingers, and Cross looks down, and then back at Ced, who has now rolled over to his stomach, beginning movements to get back to his feet. Cross waists no time and delivers a tremendous shot to the stomach of Ced who rolls to his back, and then back over to his stomach a few feet from Cross, again making strives to get back to his feet. Cross stalks over Ordonez, his legs on either side of Ced’s body. Cross drops for a moment and delivers a thunderous forearm-like crossface, slashing at Ced’s face. He wastes no time and delivers a second, then a third, and then a forth – Ced collapses back to his stomach, and Cross glares down viciously, and then smiles sadistically. “This is just violent, Cross seems to be enjoying these stiff and vicious strikes one after the other,” Longdogger exclaims sounding almost disgusted, “Cross looks like he’s actually enjoying hurting Ced Ordonez.” Cross grabs Ordonez by the arm and drags him to his feet; he rushes him back into the corner, and lifts him into a sitting position atop the ropes. Cross follows him up and begins to strike him in the face with several punches, which sends Ordonez into defense trying to protect himself. Cross throws a few sloppy mixed strikes allowing Ced to get in a slap-like punch which sends Cross back down to his feet on the canvas. He attempts to climb back, but Ordonez fires with another punch that sends Cross back down to the canvas. Ordonez hops down, and then fires again with another punch which backs Cross up. Ordonez stalks after him and delivers punch after punch quickly working Cross into the opposite corner. Ordonez continues to hit Cross with punches, and then momentarily stops. He rears back and delivers a vicious upper-cut which drives Cross’ head back into the corner. Ordonez lifts him up, reversing the role that were just in effect moments before, and then climbs up to the second rope. He lifts Cross up into a position as if he’s going for a fallaway slam, the crowd stands and goes nuts, knowing what Ordonez is looking for. “Here it is, the Dynamite Rave, often imitated but never duplicated,” Longdogger recites excitedly. Ordonez waits a moment, and then steps up, but Cross turns and rolls over the back of Ordonez and out of danger. He lands, takes hold of the legs, and delivers a crushing powerbomb that drops Ced nearly right on his head. Slowly but surely, Cross folds over the top of Ced holding onto his legs for a pin. The ref slides over. ONE…! TWO……! THREE-NO! Ced rolls through, enabling his shoulders to get out from under Cross. Cross throws Ced’s legs aside angrily and glares at the ref. He walks over and begins to question him for the second time, getting “all up in his face” about the second near-fall given to a pin made by Cross. Behind him Ordonez begins to get a second win, climbing back to his feet, and then working his way to the top of the turnbuckle. Cross turns around, and is met with a cross bodyblock. However, Cross guns out of the way quickly, and Ced flops to his stomach. “No water in the pool,” reports Longdogger, “Ced better watch his back, because Cross appears to be planning something!” In the ring, Cross is signaling to the crowd for something as Ced stumbles back to his feet with his back turned to Mike. Cross stalks behind the Bemani Cross Wizard, and then kicks the back of Ced’s knee, notching him down to a kneeling position. Cross locks in a dragon sleeper, then signals for the finish cutting his finger across his own throat. He drags Ordonez up to his feet, lifts, twists, and delivers a – NO, Ordonez manages to escape landing on his feet and breaking the hold Cross has. “What a reversal out of Cross’ finishing move, Silent Rage Syndrome,” exclaims Pete excited, “The Bemani Wizard has an excellent opportunity, Cross’ back is turned to him!” Next to him, King looks on acting as if to not care about the match what so ever. Cross stumbles, and then turns right into Ced who takes him down by the legs and then signals for the Cross Lightning. “Here we go,” proclaims Pete as the crowd joins behind him cheering. Ordonez steps over the leg, looking to lock in his submission finisher, but Cross put his left leg into the back of the Bemani Cross Wizard and boots him forward stumbling. He turns and is met with a thunderous kick to the gut. Cross pulls Ordonez in and then lifts him to his shoulders for a powerbomb. He snaps him down, but his knee sticks out catching Ordonez halfway down with a nasty looking back breaker. Cross rolls him forward and the ref slides into position. Cross waves him away, and then picks Ced back up. Again, he drops him down into the same backbreaker-like powerbomb. The ref looks shocked and the crowd is displeased. Cross follows it up with another of the same move, and Ordonez falls limp to the canvas. He doesn’t let up; lifting Ordonez back to his feet, Cross taunts signaling for the end yet again. “All hope for the Bemani Cross Wizard just went out the window,” Longdogger suspects tiredly and annoyed. Cross locks in the dragon sleeper, and then again cuts the throat with his finger. He lifts up Ordonez high, turns, and then drives him face first into the mat for the Silent Rage Syndrome. The crowd dies, and the ref looks on without hope. Cross smiles, and then lifts him back to his feet and locks him into a full nelson. “That’s enough!” Longdogger seems mad, “This is too far.” Cross drops back and delivers a stunning dragon suplex which he bridges for a pin. “He calls that the Devil’s Soul Snare” exclaims King, smiling now, “I think I might’ve been wrong about this kid!” Ced’s legs fold right over his own body, as they kick helplessly attempting to escape the ‘Snare. The ref slowly slides down and delivers the count. ONE…! TWO……! The wind in the crowd’s sails goes out. THREEEEEEEE! Cross lets go of the hold on Ordonez, and he folds back over to his stomach. Cross stands happily and signals to the crowd almost playfully. “HERE’S YOUR WINNER, MY-CHUL CUR-OSSSSSSS!” The referee hangs the hand of Cross up high, and then drops it down going over to check on Ced who appears to be out like a light. “Colony” by In Flames hits the PA system, as Cross stalks his way out of the ring in a completely different tone then he entered. “The difference in him after he won this match is night and day compared to the way he came in and the way he worked that match, King,” describes Longdogger intently, “I don’t know what’s wrong with him, but this is defiantly unique.” The SWF cameras cut away from Mike Cross leaving the ring to the next segment.

Love the way they've fast forwarded some of the big twists this season. They could have gone 10 episodes with Jack running in circles to figure out it was Cummings, then 10 more with Cummings trying to cover up his involvement. Instead, they just throw them right out there, so it never feels like they're stalling for time. Excellent way to do things.

SWF Favorite Writer(s): Edwin, Toxxic, and Tom would round out my Top 3... I always thought Spark, when he was motivated, was a hell of a writer, and could have gone a lot farther if he wanted to... Of the New Batch - JJ, Bruce, and Zyon. Favorite Match(es): In recent memory, any of Mike's House Rules matches. Any of them. Beautiful stips, and very funny people to write them. Classic - NotJ vs. Comet... Edwin vs. Sacred... And of course, who could forget Hell in a Pokeball? Favorite Promo(s): Of Edwin, who is Queen of Promo (website reference!), "In the Fade" and "Good Morning, Angels!" immediately come to mind. King's ML Poker Game Promos, and "Revenge is a Dish Best Served in Whatever State It Was". Anything by Wilson during the Meat Festival Days... And of course, Fuvolution. Favorite Character(s): Edwin, of course. In case you couldn't tell, I'm madly in love with Edwin. He hasn't returned my calls yet, but I'm still hopeful. Fugue. Rawk. Wes Davenport. Stole my idea, but he does it better than I could anyway. I think Kevin Coyote's character could go places - love the cell phone bit. Favorite Spot(s): Shilling my own for a moment, the totally implausible yet highly entertaining chair-missile-dropkick from Wargames. Thoth is down on the mat, Edwin is battling Chilly Chilly Bang Bang on his own. Edwin runs for the ropes, Thoth grabs a chair and holds it up, Edwin grabs it while running up the ropes, springs back, throws it in Frost's face and kicks. Also mentioned, the Comet/Neilsen Russian Legsweep off the cage. Favorite Move Names: Tildebang. There's nothing better. Favorite Stipulation(s): To write, Last Man Standing. To read, Canadian Death Match. Least Favorite Stipulation(s): I despise odd-number matches. Three ways, five ways, one ways, etc. Occasionally they're crazy enough to work (9-man tag at Crossfire, w00t!), but most of the time it's just annoying. Favorite Match(es) and Promo(s) (Written by you): Matches -- Aforementioned 9-way tag at Crossfire. I blew the ending, but I thought it was a lot more fun to write (and read) than the technically-superior Snake Eyes Stable Match. -- Raynor vs. Edwin, of course. -- Sadly, I cannot think of any singles matches that I wrote, on my own, that I'm proud of. Tons of cowrites - Edwin, Storm, King, Storm, Storm, Mark Stevens, Storm, Storm... but no legitimately singles matches come to mind. If I recall one, I'll edit it in. Promos -- Quite honestly, I'm amazed at the POOFNAR love. I look back at it and go "What was I thinking?", but apparently it's a classic. -- Revenge for the Coaster. The Carnival rigs JD's car stereo to play our little message to him. Also the debut of the Pandagram Undergament Middleweight Champion of Alabama. -- Of course, the retirement promo. Dream Matches: -- With myself... legit singles matches against everyone I ever cowrote against (King, Edwin, Storm, Storm, Storm, Magnifico, Storm, Storm)... add Comet to that list... then I'd love to tag with Magnifico or Edwin and face all the great teams I missed - W&D, Martial Law, Justice and Rule, Kris Kross, Double Jeopardy. -- Without myself - Edwin vs. Comet. Danceoff. Make it happen. Dream Angles: -- N/A Funny Moment(s): In character, the Justice and Rule Ping Pong match. Out of character, the tooling of Blazenwing and the Judge/Gun incident. Fondest Memories: Good ole' Carnie days. Any Regrets: Never following up on certain feuds, particularly with Fallout. I've became most friendly with...: Rando, JJ, and the CC Crew... TNT for a while, but he done gone and disappeared. Wrestling Favorite Federation?: I don't watch much wrestling anymore... haven't in a while... WWE by default, having seen nothing else. Favorite Worker?: Five of the Smackdown Six (Circa 'Mania 19 - Benoit, Eddie, Angle, Rey, Matt Hardy), Chris Jericho... of all time, Bret Hart. Least Favorite Worker?: Can't think of anyone I outright hate, outside of that one guy whose name I can't remember... yeah, he sucked. Favorite Match(es): Bret vs. Owen, in any form. Favorite Stipulation: Ladder matches. Dream Matches: Bret Hart vs. Kurt Angle, when both were at the top of their games. If I worked for a company it'd be...: I guess WWE? My style of wrestling would be...: The kind where I run away. A lot. ]b]Face or heel?[/b]: Face. Dream Matches (that includes you)?: I fear pain. Personal Name: Christopher Becker Age: 21 Single: Hell yes. Women are evil. Biggest Turn On: Sense of humor. Seriously, if you can't take a joke, I don't want to be anywhere near you. Biggest Turn Off: Um... ugliness. Religious: Nope. Favorite book(s): Ever, "Catch-22". More recently, anything by Tim Dorsey. Favorite movie(s): "Primer", "Dark City", "The Royal Tenenbaums" Favorite actor/actress: Keifer MF'n Sutherland. No pick for actress. Favorite bands: Green Day, Everclear... other than that, I listen to a truckload of game and anime music... if composers count, Yuki Kajiura currently tops the list. Favorite song(s): Not a fan of the band in general, but The Wallflowers' "One Headlight" is my favoritest song of all time. Most Recent Accomplishment: Umm... I... ate some spaghetti. Most Recent Failure: I didn't finish the spaghetti. My biggest flaw...: I suck at finishing projects I start. I have a gajillion ideas in my head, but ten minutes after I start one, I never touch it again. I like my...: Cat. He's such a cute widdle kitty. Future Goal(s): Make money. Don't care how, as long as it doesn't hurt... much... Do you write outside the SWF (if so, what do you write): Nope. Heroes: Sadly, none. I would love to meet...: N/A Hardest moment of my life...: Moving. Not cool. Greatest moment of my life...: Not that my life is bad or anything, it's fine, but I can't think of a single OMG SUPER GRAET-~! kind of moment. Would you want to be famous? I want to be rich. Fame is optional. Favorite swear word: Fuck, of course. What a silly question. Favorite food: The usual junk. Fast food, pizza... of real food, my Grandmother's Rizzoto. Damn good stuff. What would you want God to say if you want to Heaven: "Welcome to Heaven, Franz... my name is God... I think you're going to like it here." Because God just has to be a Home Movies fan. What would you want the Devil to say if you were in Hell: "Wait, this isn't right. Take the elevator up."

Clusterfuck's going to be going up late, as most matches had some portion cut off. We managed to get some of them fixed, but some people are offline right now, so we're pretty well screwed until they get back on. I don't know what the new character limit is, I'll check in a bit, but just be aware - for future matches, the really big ones, break them into smaller sections when PM'ing them to markers. We hope to have the 'Fuck up by Monday evening. The following show, AftershoxXXxXxxXXxXXx, will be a light card, mostly promoage and recaps, with a few small matches. That is all.

The Smartmark's Wrestling Federation Presents... SWF CLUSTERFUCK! LIVE, SUNDAY, JANUARY 29th, FROM THE SOLD OUT STAPLES CENTER IN LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA! (official PPV song will be edited in soon) (7:00pm PST, 10:00pm EST; check local listings) Send all promos, marked matches, etc. to chirs3 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- The Main Event - SWF World Heavyweight Championship Match El Luchadore Magnifico © vs. JJ Johnson ---> JJ Johnson, who has been absolutely unstoppable in the past few months, finally makes it to the top. His domination of the Cold Front Classic has earned him a World Heavyweight Championship match at one of the biggest Pay Per Views. Standing in his way, however, is one of the most dominant SWF Champions we have ever seen. El Luchadore Magnifico has had a death grip on the title since he won it, and he has not shown any signs of slowing down since then. Is tonight the night that the impossible will finally happen? Can JJ Johnson beat the unbeatable? Or will Magnifico continue to his history-making title reign, and still be the champion when From the Fire rolls around? Send to: Justice Rules: Sandard singles match. -=-=-=-=-=- -=-=-THE CLUSTERFUCK-=-=- ---> The Clusterfuck! What else can I say? Well, some stuff, I guess. Since it's inception, the 'Fuck has put IGN/SWF Superstars to the test, pushing them to their limits. The winner gets a title shot at From the Fire, but more importantly, he joins a truly elite group of people - people like Pimp Daddy Sarp, "Grand Slam" Mark Stevens, Taylor Nicholas Thompson, Charlie Matthews, and Landon Maddix! The winner's name will go down in history as being one of the few who were strong enough, brave enough, worthy enough to survive the Clusterfuck! 1. "Hollywood" Spike Jenkins 2. Laberinto 3. "The Rage" Jason von Dierch 4. Stryke Send your matches to TheSatanicAngel. 5. Manson 6. Christian Fury 7. Ghost Machine V. 2.0 8. The 70's Dude Send your matches to jwpeer. 9. Wes Davenport 10. Todd Cortez 11. Matt ??? Myers (go wild) 12. Candace "The Joshi Dragon" Okimura Send your matches to realitycheck. 13. Kevin Coyote 14. The Crimson Skull 15. Landon "La Cucaracha" Maddix 16. Bruce Blank Send your matches to chirs3. 17. "The Icon" Max King 18. Zyon 19. TORU Takahara 20. Tim Dillon Send your matches to janusd. Markers, send your winning matches to chirs3. Rules: The #1 and #2 entrants start in the ring. Every two minutes, another wrestler will enter. A wrestler is eliminated when they are thrown over the top rope and both feet hit the floor. When it gets down to three men left, the match becomes a triple threat, with the first pin deciding the winner. WORD LIMIT: 15000 - Yes, a word limit for a PPV match. Crazy, I know, but trust us - for the Clusterfuck, it's necessary, both for writers and for markers. -=-=-=-=-=- SWF International Championship Match Jay Hawke © vs. Wildchild ---> These two do not like each other. It is certifiable fact. Seriously, it's in the Encyclopedia. Look it up. I'll wait. ... Done? Good. Jay Hawke's run with the International Championship is nothing short of astonishing/amazing/super duper, but this time he may have bitten off more than he can chew. A pissed off Wildchild is not a good opponent to have, and after several clashes in recent weeks, it might just be time for Hawke's fifteen minutes to run out. Send to: Justice Rules: Standard singles match. -=-=-=-=-=- SWF Ultraviolent Championship Match - Japanese Deathmatch - Best of Five Bruce Blank © vs. "The Divine Wind" Akira Kaibatsu ---> The Best of Five comes down to one last match - how fitting it is, then, that the tie breaker be the most violent of them all! The Japanese Deathmatch, world renowned for its brutality, indecency, and overall ickiness, sets the stage for the final showdown! Will Bruce walk out with his record-breaking championship in tact? Or will Akira finally dethrone the champion, and begin a historical run of his own? Send to: Secret Agent Rules: The match is fought to a pinfall or submission, inside an electrified steel cage. And, if there is no decision within fifteen minutes, the cage sort of... you know... EXPLODES~! Mwahahahahahahahahahahahaha! -=-=-=-=-=- SWF FROST Pre-PPV Extravaganza Blowout Extreme to the MAX! We'll have the exclusive scoop on SWF Clusterfuck, with interviews and more! Plus, a newcomer to the SWF makes his debut! Singles Match Michael Cross vs. Ced Ordonez ---> SWF Rookie Michael Cross picked a good time to come to the SWF - his very first match will be on the Clusterfuck's pre-game show, Frost! On this grand stage, Cross goes one on one with the Bemani Freak himself, Ced Ordonez! Send to: chirs3 Rules: Standard singles match. Anyone who wants to do promos or interviews for Frost, send them to chirs3. -=-=-=-=-=- You might notice the "edited in later" for the Clusterfuck, last two seeds. I am uncertain as to the status of two writers - as soon as I am sure of their status, they will be edited in. Or not. Sucks to guarentee them the last two spots, I know, but I don't want to end up shuffling them in earlier spots if people have already started writing. Sorry.

I watched it with a friend, and we were in tears laughing the whole time. Just beautifully stupid in every way. MUERTE... That's Spanish for DEATH.

Can't believe no one's mentioned House of the Dead yet.

Whoa. Good call. Especially since the Manifest thing was done before they discovered the Tailies, so they probably haven't bothered to check them all. For all we know, Libby is another Ethan/other guy whose name I can't remember. And if Hurley really DOES remember her from somewhere before the island...

Guess I'm one of the few who liked this episode, then. I agree they shouldn't have left the "How long would it take to train an army" thing hanging for another week, that was a mistake. But this episode sets up Charlie for a while, and it takes the heroin out of the equation. It would have been so easy for 'someone' to have started the fire, Charlie saves Aaron, Claire trusts Charlie, yay happy ending. That they continued to push the "Charlie is fucking crazy" thing to the very end was a smart move. It also poses some interesting questions - first, IS Charlie fucking crazy? Or is something else going on - I was thinking maybe that disease Danielle said her crewmates succumbed to took hold in him. Or maybe he's seeing things the way everyone else is seeing things, and his religious history just made them slightly more extreme. Second - why is Locke positioning himself so close to Aaron? I agree with whoever said earlier that the "Charlie goes nuts and we see Locke looking on" just screams heel turn, and the fact that Locke was in the right position to foil Charlie multiple times over the entire episode is suspicious as well. They trying to fake us out? They should've kept the army thing alive, even if on the back burner, but this was far from a bad episode. Thoroughly enjoyable.

Zyon's match deserves an early nomination for Funniest Match of the Year. Pure gold from start to finish.

D'oh. Not sure where I pulled that one from. In my defense, though, it was very, very late.

There was some special placement for a few of the participants, but I won't say who because there's spoilers involved. The majority, though, were literally drawn from a hat. My McDonald's hat, to be precise.

"Main event time is upon us folks, and this is quite an interesting matchup, to say the very least." states Longdogger Pete, as he begins the history behind tonight's contest before passing off to Suicide King. "You've got the unproven rookie, looking to make a name, teaming with the World Heavyweight Champion. Right there, that's a recipe for success, especially when the team they're facing is comprised of two men who have never seen eye to eye!" "JJ Johnson has been on a roll lately, winning this years Cold Front Classic and securing a shot at Clusterfuck against the World Champion, while Todd Cortez hasn't been seen since losing his title shot just last month." As soon as Pete says Cortez has gone unseen, the opening beat to Mos Def's "Oh No" is cued up, and the fans pop HYOOGE for the popular superstar who has been absent in recent weeks. Once he steps through the curtain, the pop grows, as the former member of Hollywood Boulevard, the Urban Empire, Martial Law, Blockbuster Video, O-Town, and the Screen Actors Guild (OK, so we made a few of those up) makes his way to the ring. "Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is a tag team match, set for one fall, and is your main event of the evening. Approaching the ring at this time, from Hollywood Boulevard...weighing in at two hundred, twenty six pounds, he is the URBAN LEGEND...TODDD CORRRRRTEZZZZ!" After disposing of his bulletproof vest and shades, and kissing the cross that he wears proudly around his neck, Cortez slingshots into the ring and throws an arm up, greeting all the fans who are glad to see him back in action tonight. "HE HAS NOT CONFESSED, HE HAS MADE NO STATEMENT, CHARGES OF MURDER HAVE BEEN ACCEPTED AGAINST HIM." All of a sudden, the Fear Factory song synonymous with the former UFC competitor who is the current number one contender comes up, and the arena lights alternate between flashing red and white as he makes his way to the ring. "His partner, from Windsor, Ontario, Canada...weighing in tonight at two hundred, nineteen pounds, this is JJ JOHNSON!" The intimidating presence of JJ Johnson is felt as he slowly makes his way to the ring, locking eyes with his partner, who is usually on the opposite side of the ring with him. "See that, no team unity. They didn't come out here together, no pre-match pep talk, nothing." "Somehow, I don't think we'll be seeing the World Champion and Kevin Coyote coming out together, so what point does that prove?" Johnson walks up the steps and into the ring, cracking his neck as he does so. He moves towards Cortez and the two have a brief staredown, but you can see that tonight they're going to have to put the past behind them if they expect to emerge victorious. "Tu Final" replaces Johnson's theme, and as the Mexican colors brighten up the arena, the fans in the Kingdom respond with boos that would drive Ashlee Simpson to suicide. "Such a disrespectful crowd." mutter King. "And now, their opponents...weighing in tonight at a combined weight of four hundred, thirty five pounds...Kevin Coyote and the WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION...EL LUCHADORE MAGNIFICO!" "What the..." "HA! Look at that Pete! Team spirit!" ELM walks down the aisle and holds up the SWF World Title for all to see, while Coyote closes his cell phone and pretends to not have it on his person, before playing to the crowd a bit. The duo of rookie and veteran get to ringside and look up at their opponents, who have no love lost for at least one person on that team. Magnifico and Cortez stare across the ring at each other for the first time since Cortez's failed attempt at wining the World Title just one month ago. Seeing the World Champion standing in the ring and ready to go, Johnson tells Cortez to get out on the apron, but when Magnifico sees that Johnson wants to start for his team, he quickly ducks out of the ring and orders Coyote to kick things off! "Well, that's a show of bravery on the part of the World Champion!" Johnson fumes at the ruse, and moves towards his Clusterfuck opponent, paying no attention to Kevin Coyote. ELM hops off the apron and down to the floor in fear of Johnson coming closer to the corner, and in the middle of Johnson's threats to the reigning SWF champion, Coyote swings him around and smacks him across the face! "Coyote seemed to be taking excepetion to not being the focus of Johnson's attention, and the fight is on!" The bell sounds at the same time Coyote mounts an attack, staggering JJ with three right hands that connect with the left side of his face. Coyote then grabs a wrist and propels Johnson to the ropes and leaps into the air, landing on JJ's shoulders and pulling back with a huracanrana, but Johnson remains grounded, and throws Kevin over, back onto his feet, then follows up with a downright NASTY lariat! Johnson stomps on the back of the newcomers neck, then drags him up by his spiky blonde hair and delivers his own slap, staggering Coyote and sending him heading for the hills! "Welcome to the SWF, kid!" proclaims Londogger Pete. "I like his moxie, but even I know that JJ Johnson and Todd Cortez are not two guys that you want performing your initiation!" remarks King. Coyote scrambles for a neutral corner, but Johnson follows, turning him around and backing him into the corner, where the trapped rookie is rocked by a pair of elbow strikes across the face. Johnson whips him across the ring to the far corner, and the resulting impact sends Coyote staggering back to the middle of the ring, right into the clutches of Johnson, who wraps his arms around him not in a loving, caring manner, but in a manner that culminates in an overhead belly to belly suplex that drops Kevin Coyote hard on the canvas! JJ then turns and looks at El Luchadore Magnifico, who looks on with a mixture of concern and fear, and asks if he's ready yet. Magnifico refuses to respond, and instead simply stares back, so Johnson pulls Coyote up and rams a knee into the side of his head! JJ then scoops him up for a slam, but the youngster manages to slip free and push his opponent towards the ropes! Johnson comes back towards Coyote with a full head of steam, but he charges right into a dropkick that sends him stumbling through the ropes and out to the apron! Johnson catches himself and comes up to his feet, but Coyote is right there to grab him by the head and suplex him back in...but in mid-move, Johnson tags in Cortez! The crowd roars as the Urban Legend patiently waits on the apron, as Johnson falls out of the suplex attempt and lands behind Coyote, applying a waistlock, only to have it countered! Kevin then runs JJ to the ropes and rolls him, but just after the count of one Johnson kicks off, and Coyote is sent towards Cortez, who lifts him off his feet and plants him with an inverted atomic drop! "OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!" "It's a Cortez specialty, and poor Kevin Coyote is suffering greatly from El Luchadore Magnifico's cowardice here tonight!" Todd fires off on the stunned superstar, cracking Coyote with two hard chops across the chest before delivering a sweep kick that knocks him on his back! Todd then hits the ropes and leaps into the air, crashing down on him with a back senton, and then stands up and throws his arms up, waving the crowd on as they cheer wildly. "He's had a month off to recharge his batteries, but Todd Cortez is looking good so far hre tonight on Smarkdown!" Coyote rolls onto his stomach and starts crawling for his corner, but when Cortez goes to grab his ankle and yank him away, Johnson shouts for his partner to let it go! Coyote makes the tag to the World Champion, who enters the ring amidst a massive amount of boos from the crowd in attendance. Magnifico begins to circle the ring, staying far enough away from Johnson in the process, and then he and Cortez lock up in the center of the ring! "There is no love lost between these two men, and this is the first time we've seen them lock up since the loss Cortez suffered at ELM's hands this past December." The two old rivals tangle, and the end result is Cortez getting snared in a side headlock, although he easily escapes and backs up to his corner, quickly tagging in JJ Johnson! ELM turns around and JJ dives for his legs, but ELM moves like a cheetah in bailing out of the ring and scurrying away from his rival, once again avoiding contact with the number one contender to his most prized possession! "Get out of there, Magnifico!" "Can I ask why you're advocating that he avoid JJ Johnson?" "C'mon Peter, the guy has it in for ELM. If he gets lucky tonight and tears a muscle or breaks the arm of our champion, then he'll have him softened up for the Clusterfuck. ELM is protecting the interests of the fans AND the company by avoiding Johnson, because it ensures that he'll be at one hundred and ten percent!" "You really believe that, don't you?" asks Pete of his broadcast partner. Coyote hops down to the floor and approaches his partner, and the two buy some time by talking strategy...or at least that's what they'd have you believe. Johnson tries to exit the ring, but is prevented from doing so by referee Sexton Hardcastle...so Cortez hops off the apron and races around the ring towards his two opponents! Coyote and ELM see the Spanish freight train racing towards them, and head into the ring to avoid the Urban Legend...AND RUN RIGHT INTO A DOUBLE CLOTHESLINE FROM JOHNSON...Well, kind of! Coyote gets nailed by the left arm of Johnson, but ELM managed to duck the blow, and slides out of the ring once again! Johnson turns around and angrily waves the World Champion back into the ring, but ELM raises his arms and slaps his hands together, signifying that he doesn't have to, because a tag was made to Coyote! "Did you see a tag, King? I didn't." "Of course I did!" Rethinking his previous question, Londogger Pete mutters "Of course you did." as action continues. Johnson pulls Coyote up to his feet and staggers him with a forearm blow, then snapmares him over and follows up with a hard soccer kick to the back! The rookie cringes as the pain from the blow spreads through his back, and Johnson hops over him and hits the ropes, tagging Cortez as he rebounds, and as soon as Johnson cracks Coyote with a low dropkick, Cortez springs into action (literally!) as he springboards off the top rope and comes down with an elbowsmash into Kevin Coyote's sternum! "This poor kid is suffering as a result of the World Champion's fear of facing off with JJ Johnson!" Rather than go for the pin, Cortez pulls Kevin up and shoves him backswards into his own corner, and then tells ELM to tag in. Johnson, eager to get his hands on Magnifico, throws his hand out for Cortez, but the Urban Legend tells him to hang on. ELM looks on and ponders this request, but Cortez let's the fans use their influence, as they cheer wildly when he points to ELM and waves him into the ring! Finally, ELM makes the tag and charges Cortez, but the Urban Legend ducks, and starts rocking the World Champion with a flurry of right hands! "Now this was a stupid move. Cortez has already shown that he's defeatable by Magnifico, but arrogance has gotten the better of him, and he's likely just cost his team this match." "How do you figure? Cortez does hold a victory over Magnifico as well, and it's about time that the man who is supposed to represent this company got in the ring and stopped running around the ring like a chickenshit!" ELM is staggered, and Cortez backs him to the ropes and fires him off to the other side, then leaps up for a rana...but ELM falls to his back and kicks both legs up, causing Cortez to land with ELM's feet planted between his legs! "OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!" "See, what did I tell you? That flurry of offense lasted what, a whole thirty seconds?" chuckles King. Cortez is hunched over, so ELM hits the ropes and comes off with a running kneelift that bowls the multi-time World Tag Team Champion over. Seeing that Cortez is dangerously close to his corner, ELM drags him by the ankle towards the center of the ring, then drops an elbow to keep him on the ground. ELM gets up and struts around the fallen body of Cortez, then eyes Johnson and makes the "belt" motion around his waist to taunt his foe before executing a standing moonsault on Cortez! ELM counts along with Hardcastle, as Johnson looks on with disdain for the champ. ONE! T-KICKOUT! Cortez easily gets a shoulder up, so ELM pulls him up to his feet, then stuns him with a European uppercut, then comes off the ropes with a spinning wheel kick that floors the dazed Cortez! Magnifico gets up and gives himself a pat on the back for taking the Urban Legend down again, then takes the same hand and cocks a fist, dropping it into the temple of his fallen foe! Magnifico makes a second pin attempt in as many minutes, and Hardcastle again heads down to the canvas to count Todd's shoulders down! ONE! TW-NO! "Magnifico has to know that Cortez isn't going to fall that easily. I think he's toying with him simply to draw the ire of JJ Johnston!" Indeed, Johnson glares at the World Champion from his spot on the apron, watching as Magnifico stuns Cortez with a knife edge chop, then wrenches his arm and pulls him right into a quick belly to back suplex! Magnifico stands up, and seeing that Cortez is trying to sit up, delivers a boot between the eyes to lay him out! The champ then goes and tags in Coyote, who has regained his senses after a much deserved rest period, and allows the rookie to take over on offense. "Wonderful, now we get to see what Coyote can do when his opponent is completely helpless," sighs Pete as Brunswick's Finest hoists himself to the second rope. "Isn't that what's been happening already?" inquires King. "If it is, he's been getting his ass kicked by helpless people," quips the Longdogger, only moments before the young star sends himself into the air, coming crashing down on the back of Cortez's head with a leg drop! The Urban Legend's skull ricochets off of the mat, and Coyote wastes zero time in shoving him onto his back and hooking a leg! ONE! ?TW-No! It will take more than a leg drop to defeat the superstar from "The Streets", even with the beating he's already taken, and the Urban Legend shows this by rocketing his shoulder off of the mat before Hardcastle can do so much as hit two. Coyote is not deterred by his veracity, however, and he lets Cortez know by pulling his arm back and rocking him with a brutal forearm! Cortez's skull snaps back, and the Urban Legend is quick to roll away from the tenacious rookie and get to his feet. The man from Georgia is a little quicker, though, lunging upwards and blasting him with a uppercut before whipping him to the ropes. Cortez hits the strands and bounces back...only to be intercepted by a Kevin Coyote spear! *BANG!* The Urban Legend bounces away from the point of impact, rolling onto his stomach near his corner and reaching his hand out for Johnson's, looking to make a tag...but again, Coyote is in better shape, and he proves it by pouncing on the Urban Legend and delivering a series of rapid-fire punches to the back of the straight-edger's head. Cortez immediately tucks his arms in to protect his head, and Coyote decides that it's time to impress some people. And so Coyote dismounts Cortez, walks right up to Johnson, draws his hand back... *SMAAAAAACCKK!!!* ...and proceeds to slap the taste out of the Ultimate Fighter's mouth! The entire arena goes silent. Absolutely silent. Coyote is not at all unnerved by this development, however, and he turns to continue his beating on Cortez...who's not there. Coyote is understandably confused. Where the hell could Cortez have go- *SLAP!* "YEEEAAAAAHHH!!" Kevin Coyote immediately blanches. In front of him, at his corner, El Luchadore Magnifico mirrors the action, and the Georgian turns around...sloooowwllyyy...to find one extremely pissed off number 1 contender in his face. *CA-RACK!* "YYYEEEAAAAAAAAAHH!" Followed by finding an elbow in his face, the Canadian shoving his joint through Coyote's jaw like a knife through hot butter! Kevin stumbles back, and Johnson shoots in... *CRACK!* ...and lambasts him with another elbow! Coyote's eyes glaze over, and he looks like he's about to collapse. Of course, it would be unfair to the fans if Johnson didn't get to complete the trifecta. *CA-FUCKING-RAAAAACCKK!!* Something the Canadian immediately does, rotating on the spot and blasting the rookie with a rolling elbow! Coyote drops like a stone, and Johnson drops with him, laying across his chest and keylocking the free arm as Hardcastle drops down to make a count. ONE! TWO! TH-NO! Coyote is rattled, certainly, but he's not broken as he slips his shoulder out from beneath the Ultimate Fighter and continuing the match as Magnifico, who was halfway into the ring in case the count got unreasonable, steps back onto the apron with a relieved look. Coyote gets no such look, however, as Johnson immediately drags him to his feet before throwing him ropeside, the Georgian rebounding... ...and the Canadian ducks around Coyote before securing a rear waistlock, bridging back and DUMPING HIM RIGHT ON HIS ROOKIE NECK WITH A DANGEROUS GERMAN!!! *CRUNCH!* "YEEEEEAAAAAAAHHHH!!!" Coyote doesn't even get the courtesy of being rolled through onto his front to prevent nasty neck trauma - instead, he sticks a perfect landing right on the back of his head and stays there, his torso folded nastily in half. Johnson doesn't go for a pin, here. Instead, he sparks flashbacks to 1/4 by reaching his arms around, grabbing around Coyote's waist, and rolling him over into a Manhattan Crab! *CRACK!!* "BOOOOOOOO!!" That is almost immediately broken up by an El Luchadore Magnifico missile dropkick that connects right to the side of the Canadian's head and sends him rolling across the ring...and into his corner, where he bounces to his feet and tags in a rested-up Todd Cortez! "YEEEEAAAAHH!!" "And after that brutal exchange, Todd Cortez is back in the match, and now it's his turn to get some beating in on the dazed rookie," notes Pete as Cortez charges forward and dives over Coyote, stacking him on his shoulders with an Oklahoma Roll! ONE! *SLAP!* "BOOOO!" "And now Magnifico tags himself in!" cries Pete as the dastardly champion steps through the ropes into the ring. Cortez comes up from the failed pinfall attempt, but he's met with a kick to the stomach, and then jarred by a snap suplex from the World Champion. Coyote rolls out of the ring while his more experience partner takes over, adding insult to injury by raking his boot laces across the eyes of the fallen Hispanic! Cortez paws at his eyes as he's brought to his feet, then knocked loopy with a quick headbutt from the champion! Magnifico sends him into the ropes, but when he nears his foe on the rebound Cortez springs off the mat and swings around Magnifico's shoulders with a crucifix, then brings himself down in front of his rival, and pulls him into a standing headscissors...RIOT ACT PLUS~!...NO~! Magnifico pushes Cortez back to the ropes and drops to his stomach...but rather than leap over his foe, Cortez leaps up, and comes down with a kneedrop that finds its mark on the back of ELM's neck! The groggy champion pushes up off the canvas, but as he does Cortez is already in motion, bouncing off the ropes and sending his face towards the canvas with great velocity, as he hits him with a bulldog! With ELM down, Cortez doesn't bother going for the pin, and instead slaps hands with his partner, bringing the number one contender back into the match! "Maybe NOW we'll get to see what we've been craving all night!" "It's not like you to root on ELM like this, Peter. Finally come over to the dark side, eh?" "I was talking about Johnson cleaning his clock, King." "OK firstly, never use the phrase "cleaning his clock" ever again. It's 2006 for chrissakes. Secondly, who's to say that..." WHUMP!b The loud thud of ELM falling back to the canvas stops King in mid-sentence, as a release overhead suplex by Johnson lays the champion out! Looking to earn the respect of the World Champion, Coyote rushes into the ring for the save, but his bravery proves to be foolishness, as he runs right into the clutches of Johnson, who picks him up and twists him around into a snap powerslam that rattles every vertebrae in his body! Coyote squirms on the canvas, but Cortez re-enters the ring to even the odds, and we've got a good old fashioned donnybrook breaking down here in the main event! "Come on Hardcastle, get him out of there!" "Yes, get Kevin Coyote out of the ring, he doesn't belong there." "Not him, Cortez! Let Coyote stay, he wasn't doing anything wrong!" exclaims King, in true favor-the-heel fashion. Johnson goes into the mounted position atop ELM and starts clobbering away, pounding the world champion into a smatter of blood, sweat and spit as he connects with each fist and forearm. Blood trickles down from both of Magnifico's nostrils, but the sight of blood isn't enough to quench Johnson's thirst for decimation, and he leads Magnifico up and tosses him into the corner, then charges in and crushes his cheekbone with a running elbow smash! "Johnson finally has El Luchadore Magnifico all to himself, and he is NOT letting him get off lightly!" Johnson pounds away, hammering on ELM until the champion slouches into a seated position, doing his best to deflect the onslaught from the MMA superstar. Meanwhile, across the ring, Cortez has Coyote trapped in the corner, although he goes for the more traditional tactic, climbing up on the middle rope and then raining fists down atop Coyote's head while the crowd counts along. ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FIVE! SIX! SEVEN! EIGHT! NINE! TEN! Coyote comes staggering out of the corner, so Cortez takes him by the arm and sends him towards center ring, at the same time Johnson shoots ELM out of the corner! The team of Magnifico and Coyote have an unscheduled meeting of the minds as the collide with each other, and Johnson yanks Magnifico up and over with a German suplex, keeping a bridge, while Cortez hits the ropes and sends Coyote packing after a thunderous YAKUZA KICK~! ONE! TWO! NO! "Atta boy champ!" cheers King from the announce table. Cortez does a double take at Magnifico's kickout, but then sees Coyote attempting to come to on the floor. As Johnson rolls onto all fours after having just suplexed Magnifico, Cortez takes advantage of his positioning and uses him as a launching pad, springing off the back of his partner to go airborne as he leaps over the ropes and down onto Kevin Coyote! "YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAH!" "Cortez just took himself and Kevin Coyote out! We're down to the champion and the challenger, one on one!" shouts Pete in a moment of hyperactive play-by-play. Johnson looks out to the floor at the two strewn about bodies, probably wondering why Cortez just used his back as a trampoline. He turns back to ELM and rocks him with a right hand that sends ELM off balance, causing him to fall into the corner. Johnson stalks his prey, but walks right into a boot, and then takes two chops across the chest as Magnifico tries valiantly to fight back, but winds up bieled out of the corner with a hiptoss! ELM groans as his tailbone bruises from the impact, but when he rises up and turns around, Johnson is right there, trying to take him to the canvas with an armbar! "Johnson has made many men tap out before, and tonight our World Champion could become the next on the list!" ELM fights it, remaining grounded and not allowing himself to be pulled to the canvas, and then takes his free hand and jabs a thumb into the eye of Johnson, which sends him away! Johnson is momentarily blinded, but it's all the opportunity ELM needs to take him by the arm and hook it, then swing around his back and hook the other one in an attempt to hit the Baja California Crusher...but Johnson counters to a backslide, and brings the champions shoulders to the canvas! ONE! TWO! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! "OK, OK, we're good, he kicked out." says King, taking a deep breath after that anxious moment. Johnson slaps the canvas, a bit angry at himself for not being able to get the job done thus far. He brings ELM up, but is caught by the champion with a shot below the belt, and it takes the wind right out of him! Magnifico then cradles Johnson in a small package, and Hardcastle is right on top of things, going down to the canvas for the count! ONE! TWO! THREE! "WHAT!? No, come ON, not like that!" protests Pete, obviously unhappy with the tactics used to win this contest. Magnifico immediately slides out of the ring and races over to Funyon to claim his beloved strap before racing up the aisleway and out of harms way, because JJ Johnson is on his feet, and is NOT HAPPY. "Ladies and gentlemen, your winners, the team of Kevin Coyote, and the World Heavyweight Champion, EL LUCHADORE MAAAAAAAAAAAGNIFIIIIIIIIIICOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Magnifico backs up the aisleway, holding his belt and screaming as if he were Rocky and just flattened Apollo Creed. Meanwhile, Hardcastle goes out to ringside and raises the arm of Kevin Coyote, who can't believe he won...and perhaps that's why his cell phone starts ringing, as he goes and claims it from Funyon and starts talking on it as he runs up the rampway! "An interesting main event with an ending that cannot make JJ Johnson look like a favorite going into Clusterfuck. Can the reign of El Luchadore Magnifico continue, or was tonight enough to put JJ Johnson over the edge and lead him to his first World Title?" Pete's words echo through the minds of all the viewers at home, as the cameras close in on Johnson, gritting his teeth and looking up the aisleway at the man who just stole a victory from him...something that he can't afford to let happen at Clusterfuck. SWF Smarkdown - 1/23/06 Raynmaker Productions © 2006 The SWF: “Pimping the Panda Since 2000”

“SWF: What the IWC is watching” The Kingdome is filled to the brim with fans who love SWF so much they actually went to Fargo for the show and if that doesn't show how dedicated they are nothing will. *FWOOOOOOOOOOOSH!!* *FWOOOOOOOOOOOSH!!* The crowd quickly get to their feet and hold up the inventive and less inventive signs as the cameras do their customary sweep of the crowd as the fireworks go off * BAP!*BAP!*BAP!*BAP!*BAP!*BAP!*BAP!*BAP!*BAP!*BAP!*BAP!*BAP!* “ELM Fears Lawnmowers” “This guy smells” “Manson 7:11 – Kiss your ass goodbye” * BOOM!*BOOM!*BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!* As the pyros die down and the smoke drifts across the Kingdome we cut to Longdogger Pete and the Suicide King sitting behind their commentator desk at ringside. “Welcome to Fargo” Pete says with a big smile. “No, no, no, no, no WELCOME TO THE KIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINGDOOOOOOOOOOMEEEE!!!” The Suicide King says popping the crowd in the cheapest way. “I’ve been meaning to ask you this King, those Tacos in the lobby the-“ Pete begins but he’s cut off by another King – of the Rock’N’Roll variety as Elvis Presley begins to play over the PA system. ”There’s a man in New Orleans” “What the?” Pete says annoyed that he was interrupted ”Who plays rock and roll” “SHHHHHHHHH, have respect for us kings” The Suicide King says as “King Creole” plays on ”He’s a guitar man” The crowd doesn’t know if they should boo or cheer – ”King Creole” is not the theme song for any SWF star that they know, in fact it’s probably not the theme song for ANY wrestler anywhere on the planet as the two smarks in row 15 will tell anyone and everyone who’ll listen to them… and some that don’t want to listen to them. ”With a great big soul” At first the fans don’t know how to react, but once they see the familiar figure of a 6’7’’ 295 pound monster of a man the mood turns from confused to hostile. WHITEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE TRASH!! WHITEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE TRASH!! ”He lays down a beat” Once Bruce steps into the lights of the arena it’s obvious that he’s been out spending a bit of cash on his wardrobe. Gone are his blood splattered jeans and instead he’s got on a pair of black pants that look totally new, he’s also wearing a black T-Shirt that has barbwire print on it with 3-4 strands wrapped around the chest, the words “Bruce Blank” in blue and red drops of blood running down it from where the barbwire crosses over the letters. “Someone went to Sears” Pete says with a snigger. ”Like a ton of coal” The biggest change in Bruce’s look is the cowboy hat – the old beat up hat has been replaced by a brand new black cowboy hat that has gold-colored barbwire wrapped around it 4-5 times with the stands bend into points like you see on a crown. As the camera zooms in we can also see that the Ultraviolent title now has gold-colored barbwire wrapped around the strap parts as well and that the leather strap is a dark blood crimson instead of the traditional black. ”He goes by the name of King Creole” WHITEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE TRASH!! WHITEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE TRASH!! Bruce stops on the ramp with a microphone in hand, smiling confidently as he patiently waits for the chants to die down and finally after a moment or so they settle down enough for Bruce to talk. “ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY THREE!!” is the first thing Bruce says. “143 days and nights of Ultraviolent glory! Longer than anyone else in the history of this federation – hell in one title run I’ve held it just as long as Wildchild has COMBINED!! And by tomorrow morning I’ll even have surpassed that and there is no end in sight” “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!” “Boo all you want it’s a FACT! I am the single most dominating Ultraviolent champion this federation has ever seen and there ain’t no one man enough to take the belt from me. Not Akira, not Wildchild… little shrimp is a disgrace to this title… NO ONE!!” AKI-RA!! AKI-RA!! AKI-RA!! AKI-RA!! AKI-RA!! “OH GET REAL!!” Bruce says as the chant begins to annoy him. “He’s had ONE lucky fluke win so far, ONE – I’ve already beaten him more times that I care to count and tonight I finish it, that’s it – END OF THE LINE!!!” WHITEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE TRASH!! WHITEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE TRASH!! “Is that any way to address the King of Pain?” Bruce says as he turns around to show everyone that his new official SWF T-shirt says “King of Pain” in blood dripping letters across the back. “Is this any way to address the man that’s taken all these so called legends and surpassed them in brutality and violence?” “So we have ANOTHER king in the federation eh King?” Pete says “Well… I guess he’s earned the title, I mean 143 days is damn impressive” is all the Suicide King says. “After I take care of Akira tonight, and I WILL take care of him tonight, I introduce my own style of Ultraviolence to the ClusterFuck match!! I’m telling everyone right here, right now that I’m taking a spot in the ‘Fuck!” “I wonder if he’ll still be so arrogant if he loses tonight to Akira Kaibatsu? Then he’d have the deciding match AT the PPV” Pete wonders out loud. AKI-RA!! AKI-RA!! AKI-RA!! AKI-RA!! AKI-RA!! “Oh please stop you’re embarrassing yourselves, you actually think he has a chance?” Bruce says before stopping to laugh at that preposterous idea. “Alright then IF lighting should strike tonight, IF he should be so lucky as to get a win, IF we have to have a deciding match at the PPV – THEN I STILL WANT TO BE PART OF THE CLUSTERFUCK MATCH!!” “WHAT?? Is he crazy? First he’ll compete in an Ultraviolent match and then fight 19 other competitors?? My god he has lost it” Pete says in disbelief. “You know what? If anyone is tough enough to do it it’s Bruce Blank – I mean seriously, if he can pull that off he will definitely be the King of Pain!” The Suicide King replies intrigued by Bruce’s bold proposal. “But will he be in any condition to even enter the ring? I mean look at him now – the first 3 matches have taken their toll on him” Pete says as we get a close-up of Bruce’s face which has several red scabby dots all over it from the thumbtacks on Lockdown. “So he’s been through the wars” King replies “Yeah his left hand could be broken, he’s scarred up left and right – but he’s one tough son of a bitch, I’m thinking he COULD do it.” “Win or Lose tonight – I’ll make damn sure that I get my shot at the ClusterFuck match! All those other losers can hope for is that the creative committee will try and keep me out of it! But if they’re smart, if they value their lives they won’t even try it!!” Bruce says as a very thinly veiled threat. WHITEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE TRASH!! WHITEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE TRASH!! “You may chant that now – but come Clusterfuck it’ll be a different tune you’ll be singing – it’ll be HAIL TO THE KING OF PAIN!!” And with that the self-professed “King of Pain” throws the microphone down and walks away as the fans boo him. *Fade to commercials*

The scene opens up on a small New York diner, bustling during the lunch time rush. Near the doorway stands a young man, his hair messy and frizzed out. The camera takes a quick roundabout of the rows, filled with regular customers going about their daily business before focusing on the youth. “This… is your body. Going about its daily routine, keeping you alive… Carrying out vital processes that makes sure everything is working just right.” *Ding ding* The door opens. It’s JJ Johnson. “This… is what happens when you smoke.” The man begins going through the peaceful diner like Draino through a goose; the first thing he does is pick up the ‘Please seat yourself sign and nails a businessman reading the Wall Street Journal in one of the closer booths. People begin screaming as he grabs the 17-year old busboy and tosses him out the window next. “The toxins in smoke wreck havoc on your body, destroying and disrupting the basic functions needed to live.” While the kid goes on, JJ pushes down one of the waitresses, grabbing a pot of hot coffee off her tumbling tray. A larger man, maybe an off-duty cop tries charging him, but JJ slams the pot in his face, shattering and spilling coffee all over. The man screams in pain as JJ continues to wreck the place, moving quickly from one victim to the next. “Eventually, it becomes too much for your body, and you die.” The camera tracks the end of JJ’s rampage, bodies lying like rag-dolls in aisles and over tables. Seeing no one else, JJ begins to walk back towards the exit. “That’s what the Tobacco companies don’t want you to- Hey, why are you looking at me?” Finally, the screen goes black as “The Truth” logo comes up on the screen… a bloodcurdling scream before we finally come back to SWF STORM…

JJ Johnson feels slightly out of place walking through the hallowed halls of the Kingdome. Everyone he's passed on his way to Peters' office has looked quite dapper with their business suits, their assorted papers – contracts, ratings reports (Johnson grinned upon overhearing that his match had come within half a point of the Canadian Deathmatch), mis-addressed letters to Penthouse, and the like. Johnson, on the other hand, looked like he had gotten lost on his way to Mandalay Bay, with his custom red-and-white SPRAWL shirt, his MMA grappling shorts, and his long hair swept back and held in place by a beanie, the brand once again being SPRAWL. He has hold of paper, but the paper he's clutching against his water bottle is not nearly as complex as the ones the various SWF number-crunchers have. MY OFFICE ASAP. BTOIYA. Johnson had smirked when he read the note. He had only received one BTOIYA note before; back in April, when he had a Hardcore Title rematch against the late Insane Luchador and had no-showed, resulting in his being suspended for two months. Upon his return, he was quick to grill then-stablemate Toxxic for what BTOIYA meant, and the answer that had come back was rather simple. Be there, or it's your ass. Finally, Johnson reaches the temporary office of the SWF's head honcho, taking a breath before reaching his hand out and knocking on the door. "Come in!" rings out a voice that Johnson recognizes as far too cheery, and realizes he's going to have to go through some braindead secretary before he can get to Peters. He opens the door, and sure enough, Peters has found himself yet another teen just out of summer school with just enough brainpower to ignore a phone; why he keeps hiring teen girls to not talk on the phone, Johnson's not sure. "Hi, can I help you?" beams the girl, although her smile doesn't quite reach her eyes as she's forced to be nice to yet another crude professional wrestler. Johnson takes a swig of water, obeying Doctor Henderson's orders, before saying "I'm here to see Peters." "Sure, he's waiting for you," says the girl before unnecessarily continuing, "I don't think red-and-white works for you." Johnson simply gives her a blank stare, an admittedly unnerving one, and finally the teen comes to her senses. Kind of. "OH," says the secretary with a sudden look of realization, "you're one of those dumb ol' Canadians, eh?" The Ultimate Fighter goes from blank stare to confused glare. She did NOT just say that. "So," continues the girl with a giggle, "what're you going to see Peters aboot?" Yeah, she did. Johnson simply shakes his head, then takes another swig of water and puts forth a question of his own. "Knock knock." The girl laughs. She loves knock-knock jokes. "Who's there?" "Vernacular." The secretary's eyes go blank for a moment before a pensive look, or as good of one as she can manage, crosses her face. Realizing that he just shut down what little brain function she had for the next 15 minutes, Johnson simply walks past her to the door to Peters' lair, pushing open the door as he mutters "hoser"… …and finds two people in the office of the boss. One is Peters, the unmistakable Eminem lookalike more than happy to see Johnson walk into the room. The other? El Luchadore Magnifico. And for someone who just had a guy who tried to scalp him with a flag walk into the room, he looks shockingly content. Johnson scowls. "JJ, good to see you!" booms Peters, "please, sit down." "No," states Johnson flatly, which does nothing to deter Peters' cheer. "Alright, stand then," shrugs Peters. "Now, you're one of our top competitors, and it would be a shame if you-" "I can't promise I'll keep my hands off of him," interrupts Johnson, pointing a finger at the SWF's Heavyweight Champion of the World. For some reason, this causes Magnifico to grin even wider. "Yes, you can," says Peters, his smile completely vanishing as he gets down to business, "and yes, you will. You see, Magnifico is worth a lot to me. He's worth a lot to this company. And if he didn't make it to main event the Clusterfuck, it would no doubt be disastrous." "Your point?" asks Johnson, having never been particularly fond of pointless chit-chat when there's something that needs to be said. "My point is that if he can't wrestle at the Clusterfuck, YOU can't wrestle at the Clusterfuck," says Peters. "If you injure Magnifico, or lose your temper and get yourself disqualified from the tag match tonight, you lose your shot to the number 2 contender." Johnson nods, although his eyes still give off the aura that he's still not making any promises. With a chuckle, Magnifico rises from his seat, World Title draped over his shoulder as he strides over and, in an action that only serves to make Johnson madder, laying his arm across the shoulders of the number 1 contender and pulling him closer. "Remember that, gringo," smirks Magnifico, before his grin fades, "next time you start randomly eviscerating people." "Save your breath, Magnifico," sneers Johnson before he shrugs the Mexican's arm off before heading for the door. He reaches out for the doorknob, then stops and laughs, an eerie sound that, with Johnson's gravelly voice, sounds more like a bulldog than a human being. "You're gonna need it." And with that, Johnson leaves the office, making his way past the still-confused secretary before turning a corner and disappearing back into the Kingdome's labyrinthine halls. FADE OUT

SWF Smarkdown RETURNS~! to a hot crowd, and why wouldn’t they be after all this action? Pete: “And as if all of these incredible matches weren’t enough, we still have even more action to go here tonight. Coming up next is the International Champion Jay Hawke, now 225 days into his amazing title reign, taking on the number one entrant in the Clusterfuck this Sunday night, Spike Jenkins.” King: “God, this is going to be fun. Can you imagine how easy this defense is going to be for Jay Hawke? We’re talking a record-breaking title match here.” Pete: “Are you serious?” King: “Have you been watching Spike lately?” Pete: “Indeed I have, and he seems to have become more and more arrogant with each passing day.” King: “Yeah. To the point that he thinks he can win the title today. That’s adorable in kind of a gaudy way, isn’t it?” Pete: “But if he can end Hawke’s record-breaking streak, he’ll be the one with all the momentum heading into the Clusterfuck.” King: “Or he could go in there with an injured-shoulder and have to face Hawke again somewhere during the Clusterfuck. Either way, Spike’s going to be in severe pain after the next two shows.” Pete: “With that, let’s get ready for the opening introductions to this contest.” Funyon: “Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall with a 30-minute time limit, and it is for the SWF International Championship!” “YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!” When every light in the arena goes to full power as the Smarktron whites out. For a moment the only sound is that of a needle scratching over vinyl... And then *BAM* The crashing guitars of Lamb of God’s “Black Label” send a bolt through the crowd. The drumming sends a jolt throughout the arena, as the pace of the intro begins to pick up. Finally… “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH” The high-pitched scream of Randy Blythe breaks through the speakers as the bright white lights begin flashing at the entranceway. As the scream hits the crowd, Spike walks out wearing a black hoodie on, the hood covering most of his face. Spike drops down to one knee, leaving one arm to hang to the ground, while the other is firmly placed on his knee. After a few moments, Spike raises both arms into an “X”, symbolizing his Straight Edge life style. Spike rises to his feet and begins to make his way down the isle towards the ring as his tag team partner Zyon follows behind him, wearing his Cruiserweight Championship belt. Funyon: “Introducing first, the challenger. Accompanied to the ring tonight by Zyon, he hails from Hollywood, California and weighs in at 220 pounds. He is … ‘HOLLYWOOD’ … SPIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIKE … JENNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNKIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINS!” “YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!” Spike makes his way completely around the ring and rolls underneath the bottom rope. He continues rolling until he hits dead center in the middle of the ring. Spike rises to one knee and resumes the position he was in at the top of the entranceway. One arm hanging to the ground, the other placed on his knee. Finally, Spike rises to his feet. He quickly peels off the hood, releasing his blonde, dyed hair free. He puts his arms together, forming an “X” across his chest, again promoting his Straight Edge life style. King: “I seriously have to wonder what’s going through his head, Pete. I mean, not only does he want this match tonight, but he also wants to start the Clusterfuck match. Does he have a death wish or something?” Pete: “Why are you asking me, King? Obviously he’s confident he can get the championship tonight and win the Clusterfuck.” King: “Don’t confuse confidence with stupidity, Pete.” The lights quickly dim, and the familiar opening strains of Pink Floyd’s “Learning to Fly” begin to blare throughout the arena. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Funyon: “And his opponent … hailing from the Hall of Fame City of Cleveland, Ohio … and weighing in tonight at 215 pounds … he is the reigning and defending SWF International Champion … ‘The Dean of Professional Wrestling’ … JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY … HAWWWWWWWWWWWKE!” A spotlight shines on Jay Hawke as he makes his way to the ring, the crowd making its familiar chant the entire way: “JAY HAWKE SUCKS! JAY HAWKE SUCKS! JAY HAWKE SUCKS!” As Jay Hawke makes his way onto the ring apron, he takes off his sequined purple and black robe, folds it, and hands it to the ring attendant. Then he takes off his championship belt and stands up on the middle turnbuckle, holding the championship belt into the air as the crowd boos. Pete: “And one thing hasn’t changed in the last seven and a half months, King. These fans still hate Jay Hawke, particularly after his attacks on Wildchild and Zyon in recent weeks.” King: “That’s only because these fans don’t recognize true talent when they see it, MacDougal! Believe me, if Hawke really did suck, these fans would absolutely love this guy! They just don’t like him because he’s a winner!” Referee Scott Ryder, now with Hawke’s championship belt in his hands, raises it into the air for the entire crowd to see, drawing an anticipatory pop. With that, Ryder hands the belt to the timekeeper at ringside and points to the timekeeper’s table… DING DING DING! …Signaling for the contest to get underway. Pete: “Here we go, ladies and gentlemen. Hawke making yet another defense of his title, his third in fourth shows, and Spike Jenkins in desperate need of a big win.” King: “Spike’s been desperate ever since I’ve known him.” The two combatants lock up in the ring collar-and-elbow. Both men are about equal in the strength department though, so both men struggle to gain an advantage before releasing the lock up. Both men are quickly into the lock up again, and Jay Hawke decides he’s going to show Spike up by arm dragging him down to the canvas. Spike looks dejected as he gets to his knees and sees Hawke smirking at him, while Zyon shouts “Forget about it, it’s just one move” from ringside. Pete: “Zyon is shouting encouragement to his partner. That’s the advantage of having him there at ringside!” King: “Yeah, but look at how easily Hawke took him down to the mat! Spike’s going to be in for a long night at this rate.” Spike gets to feet, and the two combatants lock up collar-and-elbow again. Both men jockey for position, and this time it’s Spike Jenkins taking Jay Hawke down with an arm drag. Hawke gets to his knees, shocked that Spike was able to get the leverage on him to take him over, and Zyon applauds at ringside. Pete: “And this time it’s Spike Jenkins taking the champion over.” King: “Yeah, he hits one move and thinks he’s already the champion. He needs to do more than lock in one arm drag if he wants to take this title tonight.” Jay Hawke makes it back to his feet, and both men lock up again. Jay Hawke quickly turns into a side headlock, clamping down on Spike Jenkins in an attempt to wear him down. The challenger plants his feet and pushes the champion forward to break the hold. Hawke hits the ropes and rebounds off, taking Spike down with a shoulder block upon his return. The challenger immediately gets back to his feet, but the champion is right there to lock the side headlock back in before Spike can even get his bearings. King: “Brilliant wrestling as always from Jay Hawke! Right to the headlock before Spike can react to the shoulder block! Tremendous move!” Pete: “And there’s no doubt that if this match remains largely mat-based, Hawke’s going to retain no problem.” Spike again plants his feet and pushes Jay Hawke into the ropes. Hawke rebounds off, and this time Spike ducks down so Hawke can run over the top of him. Hawke rebounds off of the opposite set of ropes, and Spike catches him in a waistlock and falls backwards, draping him throat-first onto the top rope. Pete: “Spike with the Hotshot to take the champion down…and he’s going for the cover right away!” ONE! TWO! Kickout. Pete: “But only the count of two!” King: “You expected anybody to beat Jay Hawke with one move? Please! One move doesn’t change a championship in this business, Pete!” Jay Hawke quickly makes his way to his feet, but Spike Jenkins is right there to catch Hawke underneath the chin with a series of shotei palm strikes. The fifth such strike knocks the Cleveland native down to the canvas, and Spike immediately drops down for another cover: ONE! TWO! THR -- kickout. Pete: “Again only the count of two, and you’ve got to hand it to Spike Jenkins. He knows this one is only three seconds away from being over, so he’s going for the pin right away.” Spike Jenkins quickly locks in a side headlock of his own. King: “And that goes back to the 30-minute time limit. Normally, a title match has a one-hour time limit. But in TV matches like this, they get less time, so you have to go for pins while you can if you’re the challenger. Why you’d lock in a headlock if you’re challenging for the championship is beyond me.” Spike tries to tighten his grip on the headlock, but with Jay Hawke being the technical master he is, that is probably a fruitless proposition. Jay Hawke quickly gets to his feet and plants them firmly on the mat. Spike braces himself, thinking Hawke’s going to send him into the ropes, but Hawke instead slips out of the headlock, locks Spike into a waistlock from behind, then lifts him backwards over his head, landing in a picture-perfect German suplex: ONE! TWO! THR -- kickout. Jay Hawke quickly gets to his feet and runs into the ropes, catching Spike with a lariat just as Spike returns to his feet. Spike falls to the mat, and Hawke immediately goes for the pin again: ONE! TWO! Kickout. Pete: “A couple of near falls by Jay Hawke, and now the champion locks Spike Jenkins into a reverse chinlock.” King: “Now, the headlock is perfect strategy for the champion with the shorter time limit. Here, Hawke can not only wear Spike down with this hold, but he also begins to run down the clock.” Pete: “I’m not sure I’d worry about running the clock down this early in the match, but it’s always smart to wear your opponent down.” Hawke pushes forward, bending Spike’s neck in awkward position to add a little bit more pain to the hold. Spike turns his body to alleviate the pressure, then makes his way to his knees, then his feet. The man from Hollywood plants a couple of elbows to the midsection of the champion to release the hold, then catches him with a few more shotei palm strikes to the chin. Spike then runs off the ropes and charges the champion, leveling him with a stiff-as-hell lariat to floor him before going for the pin: ONE! TWO! THR -- kickout. Pete: “Another near fall for Spike, and all of his offense is focusing on Hawke’s neck to set up for the Super Ego Trip.” King: “I think it’s mere coincidence. Spike Jenkins knowingly working over only one part of the body? Don’t make me laugh!” Spike Jenkins locks Jay Hawke into a front facelock, clamping down on the head and neck to put more pressure on it. Hey, Spike Jenkins can wrestle when he needs to. Not as well as Jay Hawke though, as the champion quickly gets to his feet, lifts Spike into the air, and runs into the corner, driving the air out of the challenger’s lungs with his shoulder. Spike doubles over; gasping for breath, and the champion locks his challenger in a front facelock of his own and pulls him toward the center of the ring to prevent him from grabbing the ropes. Pete: “And right back into some nice wrestling from the champion. Are you surprised at the pace of this contest thus far?” King: “Absolutely. I expected Spike Jenkins to come out full throttle with all guns blazing. Instead, he’s content with actually trying to outwrestle Hawke.” Pete: “And so far doing quite well for himself.” King: “I don’t know if I’d go that far.” Spike Jenkins plants a couple of forearms into the ribs of the champion, and then tries to lift him up and push him into the corner. Sensing it coming, the Dean of Professional tightens the grip on the headlock just a little bit more and gets his feet firmly back onto the ground. Hawke tightens his grip on the headlock just a little bit more, and then drops down, dropping Spike Jenkins square onto the top of his head. Spike’s body stays vertical for a second before slumping to the mat. Pete: “Oh my God! What an incredible DDT!” King: “Hawke’s going for the cover! He’s retained the championship right here!” ONE! TWO! THR -- Spike just barely rolls the left shoulder up. Pete: “Another near fall. Wow, was that close!” King: “Yeah, but that DDT might have been the turning point of the contest. Hawke’s got Spike down, so watch him pounce on him for the attack.” Hawke climbs to his feet, pulling Jenkins up with him…but Spike pushes him away. Hawke tries to grab for control, but Spike connects with a shotei to the jaw! Jay stumbles back as Spike charges at him with another lariat! …But Hawke ducks and Spike knocks out the referee! “BOOOOOOOOO!” Pete: “The referee has been knocked out by a Spike Jenkins lariat!” King: “He did it on purpose! Disqualify him!” Hawke grabs at Spikes shoulder and spins him around…but Spike pushes him back, leaps into the air and connects with a standing enziguri! Hawke stumbles forward, dropping to one knee and then onto the mat face first! With both his opponent and the referee down, Spike Jenkins turns towards his protégé and calls for the thing around his shoulder…the SWF Cruiserweight Title! Pete: “Is Spike telling Zyon to give him the Cruiserweight title…to use as an illegal object?” King: “If he is, that would be the smartest thing he can do. The only way he can beat Hawke is if he hits him with the title!” Pete: “That isn’t true, King!” Zyon gives Spike a confused look as he turns his head towards the title he is carrying. Unsure of what to do, Zyon stands outside the ring, looking back and forth from the pushy Jenkins to the title. Zyon holds the title out, looking ready to slide it into the ring… …When Wildchild charges down to the ring, pulling the title away from Zyon! King: “Now what is he nosing around out here for?” Pete: “Well, we know Hawke and Wildchild have some problems that will be dealt with inside the ring, but I guess he is out here to make this a fair fight!” King: “A fair fight? I knew Spike was going to lose the second he stepped in the ring!” Zyon looks at Wildchild, who releases the belt. WC points into the ring and yells at Zyon not to do it. Spike looks on, anger filling his face as he yells towards WC and at Zyon to give him the title. The referee slowly begins to turn over, leaving Jenkins in quite a predicament. Frustrated, Jenkins slams his fist against the mat and climbs to his feet, turns around… …And falls back to the mat with a loud thud after Jaw Hawke slams the SWF International Title right into the bridge of the nose! Hawke slides the belt out of the ring and falls on top of the unconscious Jenkins as the referee turns around and begins to make the slow count. ONE! TWO! THREEEEE! DING DING DING! The bell rings and as soon as it does, Zyon and Wildchild turn to look, noticing Jenkins out cold and Hawke rolling out of the ring. They both slide in, Wildchild chasing after Hawke and Zyon checking on Spike, but it is too late. Pete: “I don’t believe this! Jay Hawke stole the win!” King: “Spike only got what was coming to him! He wanted to use the Cruiserweight title, but Zyon refused to give it to him! So Hawke, playing a fair game, used the International title and won the match fair and square!” Pete: “Fair and square?” King: “In my ring? Yes.” Jay Hawke walks backwards up the ramp, the SWF International Title clutched to his chest, Wildchild in his glare. But the Caribbean Cutter stares right back at him, as the two are bound to meet in the squared circle for that title. In the center of the ring, Spike Jenkins lies unconscious, an upset Zyon kneeling over him, the SWF Cruiserweight Title still held tightly in his hands… …As SWF Smarkdown goes to a commercial break.

We return from yet another commercial break and fade in to Ben Hardy in Mr. Peters office ready to do an interview. “I’m here with Joseph Peters – first of all Mr. Peters I’m so glad you got rid of that fucking Family Friendly thing” Ben says with a smile as he blatantly sucks up to his boss.. “Even without the family friendly rules the Bruce / Akira series has almost gotten us in trouble with the FCC, Christian watchdog groups and so on for excessive violence – so I’m glad that their FINAL match will be on PPV instead of regular TV.” Joseph Peters says as he is eager to get to the reason why he asked Ben Hardy to join him. “We just saw Akira pull even with Bruce – they’re now two and two and it will come down to the last match.” Ben says to inform the people that didn’t read the match of what the outcome was. “Yes – this will be the last Ultraviolent match between Akira Kaibatsu and Bruce Blank. As with the other 4 matches I have to spin the wheel and let fate pick a stipulation.” Peters says as he points to the wheel with the remaining six stipulations on it Barbwire Ropes / Brunkhouse Match / Open Arena / Japanese Deathmatch / Clockwork Orange House of Fun / Stairway 2 Hell “There are some really nasty stipulations on there” Hardy says as he reads through all 6 of them. Without further ado Peters spins the wheel for the final match Round and round it goes – where it lands nobody knows The wheel slows down and each stipulation ticks by as the wheel finally comes to a full rest on the … “Japanese Deathmatch” Peters whispers as he turns pale. “What’s a Japanese Deathmatch?” Ben Hardy asks revealing his lack of research. “Erm…” Peters clears his throat, he’s obviously not very comfortable with this stipulation. “It’s an electrified Cage match that you win by pinfall or submission” “Electrified Cage? Ouch” Ben says like he was a news anchor commenting on a funny story. “Yeah and erm… the cage is hooked up to a series of time bombs around the cage that goes off if there hasn’t been a decision in 15 minutes.” Peters adds revealing just why he’s not very happy about the stipulation. “Time bombs? You’re kidding right?” Hardy quips “No – 15 minutes after the door closes and the bell rings… boom” Peters says thanking his lucky stars that it’s a PPV and not regular TV – he’d NEVER get permission to run this on regular TV. “So Bruce and Akira… in an electrified cage that’ll blow up?” Hardy says as it finally sinks in. “At Clusterfuck” Peters adds. I think we need to fade now.

SWF Smarkdown returns from a commercial break as the camera's show the thousands of fans in the Kingdome rising to their feet as OK Go's "Get Over It" begins to play, and a lone spotlight shines down on centre stage. From behind the curtain, Wes Davenport comes striding out, a smile on his face as he basks in the spotlight, taking a moment to listen to the fans cheer. "…Are they cutting our intro time or something?" King murmurs. "I think we're reaching the word limit… Oh, welcome back to SWF Smarkdown live from the Kingdome!" Pete blurts out, covering their little off camera conversation. "As always, it's been a real thrill ride here tonight, and there's still plenty of action to come!" "Have you even seen what the next match is, Pete?" King mocks. "Coming up now we have Wildchild, get that, Wildchild? Versus Wes freaking' Davenport. I don't know about you, but a match between the two compares to a Chimpanzee fighting a walrus." "As accurate as that description may be, King, I don't think Wes will go down quite as easily as a walrus." "Chimpanzee." Pete looks stone-faced. "Right, anyway, Wes has been on a tear, dropping only one match in his first six outings, losing only to Jay Hawke, relying heavily on some sparks of brilliance, using veteran-like maneuvers and his solid power game to pull through. I'm telling you, King, if he hadn't of run off to Hollywood like he did, Wes could have had a bright future in wrestling." "Yeah right, Pete. How could a talent less, dim-witted loudmouth excel in wrestling, besides being a ring announcer?" King suddenly stops dead as he feels a cold gaze being shot at him from Funyon's direction. "Well, he could win World titles like you did." While King shoots Pete with hate rays, Davenport slides underneath the bottom rope, climbing to his feet and raising his arm to the crowd, acknowledging their applause, though it seems to be somewhat lacking this evening. "Ladies and Gentleman," Funyon booms from ringside, taking pride in his work despite what King might say. "The following match is a singles match, and it is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first, from Hollywood, California. He weighs in at 255 pounds… please welcome, WES DAVENPORT!" The former actor forgoes any stretching, soaking up the crowd's response like a sponge, while underneath, his heart pounds and his mind races, his anxiety about his match growing. … Which only serves to grow as the familiar tune of "Bouncin' Back" by Mystikal pounds through the P.A, and Wildchild sprints out from behind the curtain to a deafening response from the loyal SWF fans under the Kingdome. Wildchild smiles, stopping to wait for the lovely Melissa Fasaki, before the two make their way down the ramp. "Interesting King, Wildchild has no bandage around his shoulder, nothing at all," Pete says, quizzically. "You'd think after Hawk's attack and his grueling Triple Impact match with Max King that it would still be causing him some discomfort, even pain." "Perhaps he's Wolverine." "…Are you admiring the architecture again?" Whilst the announcers argue sweet nothings, Funyon shouts, "…Introducing his opponent, hailing from the Bahamas. He weighs in at approximately 214 pounds… he is the Bahama Bomber, he is, WILDCHILD!" Wildchild smiles broadly, always pleased to hear the crowd's roar as he pecks Melissa on the cheek and she wishes him good luck. The Caribbean Cruiser hops up onto the ring apron, and then flips over the top rope into the ring, all ready to start, as Eddie Long calls for the bell! DING! DING! DING! With the crowd at a fever pitch, Wildchild takes a small step to the right, which only increases the noise to a deafening roar. Davenport's heart sinks in his chest, but more importantly, his ego shrinks as well as he listens to the fans rally behind the Bahama Bomber. Wildchild starts off as he did against Max King, firing a barrage of right hands towards Davenport's head! Unlike Max King however, Davenport begins to retreat under the relentless assault, finally finding his back against the ropes. Wildchild wastes no time as always, hurling the large actor across into the opposite ropes, and nailing him in the forehead with a forearm of the flying variety as he returns! Davenport skids across the mat from the impact and momentum, climbing to his feet in a dither, but Wildchild catches him as he turns back around, executing a perfect waistlock takedown. Davenport begins to rue ever leaving his acting career behind as he lies face down on the canvas, but that soon turns to lament as he feels Wildchild's full 214 pounds crash down on top of him with a Senton Splash! "A typically Wildchild opening to this match," says Pete, marveling at the Human Hurricane's speed and fire. "When he's in this sort of form, there aren't many people who can slow him down! And unfortunately for Davenport, he doesn't seem to be one of them, having no answers to Wildchild's blistering attack." Wildchild heaves Davenport onto his back, but even the pressure from that simple task puts a strain on his shoulder. He decides discretion towards his injury is in order as he hooks Davenport by the leg, and Eddie Long glides across the canvas, counting- ONE! TWO! "Right now, I think Lindsay would have a better shot," replies a snickering King as Davenport rolls away, feeling pain in his general vital organ region. "At least she would get in a good backhand once in a while." As the crowd rise to their feet, Davenport rises to his, wondering what has grabbed their attention. He looks around, wondering where his opponent could be- BAM! -and he gets his answer in the most violent fashion as the Caribbean Cruiser crashes into the actor's chest like a Pinball! "He's a pinball wizard!" cries Pete, followed shortly by, "there has to be a twist!" "Not even Comet was lamer than you, Dogger." King responds in sheer disgust, but Pete's words have an air of truth to them as Wildchild rushes towards the nearest corner while Davenport clutches at his chest, his lungs now flatter than a pancake. Unknowingly, Wes places himself in the perfect position for the Tropical Tumbler, who leaps off the top rope, extending his arms out wide as he comes crashing down on Davenport's chest with a Twisting Body Splash! "Oh my!" Longdogger gasps out as twenty thousand fans all cheer in unison, amazed and excited. "Wildchild has pulled out all the stops so far, and he may have Davenport done and dusted already!" "That's what happens when a hack, a phony like Wes comes up against the best, and even I'll admit that Wildchild is amongst the best we have," replies King, much to his partner's astonishment. "Hey, don't get me wrong Pete, I still loathe the guy, but the simple fact is… I loathe Davenport even more. He's not fit to be a wrestler, or an actor for that matter." Even in his half dead state, King's words reach Davenport's ears. The actor's eyes glaze over, almost in defeat as Wildchild again hooks him by the leg, pushing his weight into Davenport's chest, thinking this could be it- ONE! TWO! T-but Davenport rolls a weary shoulder from the canvas to a great amount of disappointment from the fans, sighing as Long holds up only two fingers. "Davenport keeps himself alive in this match, but I'm afraid he's only delaying the inevitable," is Pete's grim assessment as Wildchild climbs onto one knee, wincing while he holds his left arm up to stretch, the joint beginning to tighten. The fans take this as acknowledgement, and begin to chant… WILD! CHILD! WILD! CHILD! The dueling chants suddenly bring Wildchild back to reality, and he holds his left arm up even higher, nodding to the fans, letting them know he appreciates it. Davenport, on the other hand, doesn't exactly appreciate the shabby treatment he's been given as he gazes up at his foe, noticing a slight tremor in the Cruiser's arm, and a look of discomfort in his eyes. That look soon fades as Wildchild, now confident of victory, brings his opponent to his feet and whipping him into the nearest corner. LeCroix, constantly on the run, doesn't stop just because his opponent seems to have, and bolts across the ring in a great burst of speed, leaping high and far, turning one full revolution and splashing his body against the actors! "Blue Crush!" blurts Longdogger, but the fans don't need any reminding, instantly knowing the move and respond with unanimous applause. "See, now he's just showing off," grumbles King. "Can we end this please, and get on with the next match?" The impact buries Davenport into the corner, but it also causes 'Child's left arm to be thrown back sharply, causing the Bahama Bomber to groan. Melissa Fasaki looks up from ringside with concern, knowing the pain Wildchild has worked through the past two weeks, and fearing it may catch up with him. Wildchild smiles at her, trying to put her at ease as he lifts Davenport up in the corner, hardly making his life easy as he rears back and… THWACK! "… Wildchild executes a beautiful Backflip Kick in the corner!" Pete shouts as Davenport's brains are scrambled. The Caribbean Cruiser lands on his feet with ease, already putting his next movie into action as he jumps vertically, putting his hands on Davenport's shoulder's and digging his boots into the actor's chest, catapulting him half-way across the ring! "Look at that elevation," King remarks, "I bet that's the highest Davenport's star has ever risen." YYYEEEAAAA-OOOOOHHHH! … Much to everyone's surprise, Davenport has somehow landed on his feet. Wildchild looks over his shoulder as he climbs to his feet, finding Wes on two feet with his palm planted against the mat, steadying himself. The crowd isn't sure how to react, but Wildchild does as he charges across the ring, flipping over the actor and grabbing his neck on the way. Davenport's weight is suddenly thrown forward as some fans cry, "Whiplash!" as they see Wildchild fall to the mat, but their surprise from before soon turns to astonishment as Wes plants his front foot forward, and his arm out to the side, keeping himself firmly in place like a statue as Wildchild slips and looses his grip on Davenport's neck- WHAM! -and falls to the canvas hard, hitting unprotected! "Wildchild was about to hit another patented move, but Davenport held fast!" cries Pete as bewildered as the crowd is right now. "Once again, he clutches with those veteran maneuvers we've seen glimpses off in the past." "Yes, he sure did get lucky," King replies, completely ignoring his partner's observation. "He may have found his footing, but can he find some offense somewhere in that bag of tricks?" Davenport stumbles and sways, but stays on his feet, even hearing a few cheers coming from the crowd, despite them being muted and non-existent. A muffled cry is heard from Wildchild as he holds his left arm close to his chest, the appendage taking the full force of the fall. Finding an opening, perhaps the only one Wildchild will give him, Davenport nails him from behind with stiff forearms, right to the point of the shoulder. The muffled cries soon turn into rather audible one's as Davenport brings Wildchild up from one knee, reaching underneath the Human Hurricane and lifting him high into the air, attempting a Back Drop Suplex! Wildchild's arm may be coursing with pain, but his legs are still one hundred percent and he easily lands back on his feet behind the actor! This gives the crowd something to cheer about as 'Child leaps into the air and straddles the actor's shoulders, letting fly with right hands to the top of his crown! The Bollywood Star reaches up, grabbing onto Wildchild's legs, but he's soon staggering as each fierce blow is delivered! Finding the right moment, Wildchild suddenly tightens his vice like grip on Davenport's neck and throws his weight backward, trying to flip Davenport over with a Hurricanrana… "… but Davenport's held his ground again!" cries an excited Longdogger as Wes grips his hands on Wildchild's legs, letting the Caribbean Cruiser dangle precariously! "It seems Wes is finally utilizing his superior strength…" Before Pete can finish his sentence, Wes hurls Wildchild's torso up with the Bahama Bomber's head pointing directly towards the roof of the magnificent Kingdome as the fans look on in nervous anticipation. Their anxious looks soon give way into muted gasps as Davenport throws Wildchild off his shoulders… WHAM! OOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHH! … And slamming him down on the point of his shoulder with a devastating Powerbomb! "Unbelievable!" Pete suddenly shouts, turning away squeamishly shortly after as Davenport presses down further, keeping hold of his victim, putting more pressure on the left shoulder as he pins them both to the mat- ONE! TWO! THR-the count stops at two though, as Wildchild pushes Davenport away! "A strong kick out from Wildchild, using those powerful legs of his. His shoulder may still be weak, but if there's one thing we know about the Bahama Bomber, he'll always keeping running, all night if he has to!" "The Powerbomb comes back to haunt Wildchild, oh the sweet irony," King responds dryly with a satisfied look on his face. "Max King must have gotten a great deal of satisfaction after seeing that, almost as much as me… Almost." For once, Wildchild is not first to his feet as Davenport stalks after him, but as he finally does get to a vertical base, Davenport strikes with a vicious European Uppercut- THWACK! -and another- THWACK! -and another! Wildchild begins to recoil, finding that being on the receiving end of Davenport's wrath is a terrible thing, but Wildchild won't back down so easily as he fires back, directing a few sharp kicks towards Davenport's breadbasket! The actor doubles over, allowing Wildchild a small window in which to regain the ascendancy, seizing it quickly as he hooks his right arm around Davenport's neck and charging forward, ready to drive him down with a Bulldog Headlock! Davenport sees it coming and shakes Wildchild off, using his momentum to push him into the ropes head on. Wildchild hits the strands at great velocity, unable to turn back around, giving Wes enough time to drop to one knee, lower his head and drape Wildchild over his shoulders, climbing back to his feet and locking Wildchild in the Torture Rack! "Hah, if you needed any proof that Davenport is nothing but a buffoon, this is it," guffaws King, "he should be doing everything he can to further injure that arm, how can a Torture Rack…" But before King can utter another word, Davenport reaches out and clutches hold of Wildchild's left wrist, stretching it out to the side and tightening his hold on his legs, almost as if to pry his arm from the socket! "You were saying, King?" Pete revels in King's mistake, nudging him. Wildchild wishes King were right as he tries his best to bite his tongue and not cry out in pain, to show weakness, but Davenport, almost bitter at the crowd's strong support for Wildchild, focus' on nothing but the Cruiser's torture, bouncing him up and down on his shoulders like a rag doll! A few more fans begin to cheer for Davenport, happy to see him put up a fight, but Wes wants more. He gets his wish, but the cheers aren't for him, they're for the Bahama Bomber as he kicks and flays on Davenport's shoulder, and although it causes him great agony to do so, he pry's his arm away from Wes! The actor suddenly trips over his own feet and stumbles backward, and as he nears the ropes, Wildchild lunges out and grabs the top rope for dear life! "He's there! He breaks the hold!" Pete cries as the fans go nuts! RRRRRAAAAAAHHHHHH! "Wildchild never gave up and persevered through the pain, something we've come to expect from him," continues Pete as Long institutes a standing four count, which Davenport is glad to let run the full limit. That turns out to be his undoing in the end as Wildchild grabs Wes around the neck with his right arm in an inverted facelock and lands on the ring apron, which feels like a safe haven to him. 'Child suddenly jumps off the apron and to the floor, bringing Davenport's neck across the cable! A nasty mark appears on Wes' perfect skin, but that's the least of his worries as Wildchild quickly reaches underneath the bottom rope and grabs both of his ankles, sweeping him off of his feet! Remembering the last time he found himself prone on the mat against Wildchild, Davenport hastily scampers to his feet, but it proves to be TOO hastily as the blood rushes to his head and he's sent into a tizzy! The actor, almost drunkenly, stumbles about, a regular site if you've seen Wes at the hotel lounge. Wildchild sees this and grins as he gets back on the ring apron, vaulting to the top rope effortlessly, his hands not much touching the rope, and springing off, snaring Davenport's head in mid air and- THUD! -dropping him on his head, driving him into the canvas with a "gorgeous swinging DDT, known only as Presumed Guilty! That just shows how cunning Wildchild is," continues Pete, "using his lighting fast skills to buy him some time, and his amazing athleticism to spring to the top rope unassisted, putting no strain on his arm whatsoever!" The crowd is suddenly alive again as Wildchild and Davenport lie flat on their backs, the crowd calling for the Cruiser to just crawl over a few feet and make the cover. Wildchild is not the sort of man who needs to be told twice as he claws over, throwing his right arm across Davenport's chest, and Long is quick to count- ONE! TWO! TTHHRRRR-but No! No such luck for Wildchild as the match continues, but now, the crowd is firmly behind him, and he knows it won't take much more to keep Davenport down. "It won't take much more to keep Davenport down," Pete tells us. "Didn't he just say that?" "Who?" King and Pete both look at each other eerily, whilst in the ring, Wildchild heaves himself up and onto his feet, but finding Davenport lagging not far behind. As the actor turns around, Wildchild says hello with a flurry of right hands that momentarily daze Wes, allowing Wildchild to run towards the ropes, bounce off, and come charging back with a head full of steam. The crowd sense Dub Cee has something special in mind as he leaps towards Davenport and turns in mid-air, locking his legs around Davenport's waist and planting his hands on the mat, pushing himself off, bearing the pain that shoots through his shoulder as he does. But as Wildchild springs back up, ready to take Davenport around the neck, the actor suddenly grabs hold of the Bahama Bomber and rears back suddenly, throwing him- WHAM! OOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHH! -and planting him viciously on the back of his head with a German Suplex! "Oh my god!" is all Pete can utter as the fans all gasp following the impact, watching Wildchild get folded up like an accordion, the sudden impact producing a sickening thud. "Wes used Wildchild's own momentum against him, and now has him bridged for the pin! With all that pressure once again placed on Wildchild's shoulder, this may be enough to cause a huge upset!" This matters little to Melissa Fasaki as she looks on, worried but ultimately helpless as Eddie Long slams his palm against the mat as the fans chant a long with the count, despite many holding out hope for Wildchild- "ONE!" "TWO!" "THHHRREEEEEE!" … "HE KICKED OUT!" is Pete's shrill and excited cry as the fans turn rabid, chanting 'Child's name! Davenport simply shakes his head, listening to the crowd response, and hearing Eddie Long tell him, "Only two, Wes." He looks at Long in disbelief, and then the crowd. No matter what he does, they rally behind Wildchild at every turn. The actor wearily climbs to his feet, his head and chest aching from the punishment he's been dealt, and his insecurities rear their ugly head. This is only made worse by the appearance of Wildchild, pulling himself to his feet in the corner! The larger man staggers across the ring, letting fly with European Uppercuts in an attempt to decapitate his opponent. At least that might stop him. Taking Wildchild by the left arm, Davenport extends it as far as it can go, and then whips him towards the ropes. Suddenly, he hangs on, and pulls Wildchild back towards him, jarring the Cruiser's shoulder in the process and striking him in the ribcage with a knee lift! With Wildchild doubled over, holding his arm as if it were about to fall off, Davenport grabs him and shoves him into a standing headscissors, leaving him there so he can gaze around at the fans, gauging their reaction, but all he gets is a dull, half-hearted cheer from a portion of the crowd. Davenport decides to let his frustrations out on his wounded foe, clasping his hands around his waist and hurling him up onto his shoulders! … But before he has a chance, Wildchild somehow slips free as he's flipped upward! Davenport's eyes bulge as Wildchild leans back and plants two feet into his chest with a Missle Dropkick! "Freak," King snidely remarks, shaking his head, yet still impressed as Davenport stumbles backward into the corner. Wildchild picks himself up and dusts himself off, knowing too well that he has to work fast, and luckily, that's his strong point. As Davenport thumps into the turnbuckles, which send him back from whence he came, Wildchild takes a few steps off to the side, sizing the big actor up. Before Wes even has a chance to react, Wildchild drapes his leg across the back of his neck and moves all his weight forward- BAM! -driving Davenport's face into the canvas! "It does so warm my heart to see Wes' face be scarred one again," King says with a pleasant sigh. "And Wildchild continues to show why he's currently the longest one of the longest serving SWF members, avoiding the use of his injured arm at all costs. Even I can appreciate that!" "Y'know, I think being in the Kingdome brings the best out of you," Dogger replies with a wry smile. "You're right though, and every fan in this arena appreciates it. Wes has been knocked silly tonight, and that move may just have him the full six ways from Sunday!" Staring up at the arena lights, Davenport suddenly finds the tanned figure of Wildchild hurl himself on him in a heap, pinning his shoulders to the mat! Long slides over to count and the fans chant along, waiting on tenterhooks… "ONE!" "TWO!" "TTTHHRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE…" … "OOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" "…It's not enough!" Pete cries as Davenport's shoulder shoots off the mat in defiance, and Eddie Long confirms the count as only two! A long drawn out sigh is heard from almost everyone in the arena as Wildchild takes it in his stride, always thinking two moves ahead. "I'll give Wes this much: he's a damn stubborn bastard," King admits, still reveling in the lack of censorship. "I thought he'd be sulking about his loss in his locker room already, but despite the fans support, or lack there of, he's sticking this one out." "Wes can't take it to heart; even Jesus would get a lukewarm response at best if he was in the ring with Wildchild." The two men climb to their feet, Wildchild the more alert of the two, but his arm has lost some of its mobility and feeling. Davenport on the other hand may have suffered a mild concussion from the constant blows to the head, and Wildchild realizes this more than anyone. Building up speed, the Bahama Bomber hits the strands, rebounding off at full speed, almost taking Davenport's head off with a leg lariat! "You can sense Wildchild has the end in mind, King," says Longdogger, watching intently as Davenport hits the canvas hard, climbing to his feet slowly, his vision blurred and his head pounding. Wildchild sends a stiff kick into chest, doubling the actor over, coughing and spluttering. Wildchild turns his back to Davenport, reaching back and hooking his right arm with the actors with ease, but his left proves to be an arduous task. The crowd begins to rise, watching as Wildchild finally locks his left arm with Davenport's, but the small delay gives Wes the opportunity of his career as he braces himself, reaches down and lifts Wildchild into the air, their arms still locked together! The severity of the situation for Wildchild, his head pointing towards the ground, causes the Bahama Bomber to wriggle, writhe and flay about with great urgency! Finally, Wildchild breaks his right arm free, falling safely behind Davenport with his back to him. Suddenly, he cries out… "…somehow, Davenport still has his left arm!" King shouts, even he getting into the moment. Davenport lets go for a moment, before he simply pivots around, clutching Wildchild's neck with his right arm, and hooking his left arm over Wildchild's… …And suddenly, with brutal force, he falls straight down… BAM!! … OOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHH! … Driving the back of Wildchild's head into the canvas with a Scorpion Death Drop! The breakneck speed of the move impacts his left arm most of all in vice like fashion. Davenport breathes heavily, still clutching that arm, before realizing what he's done. "Davenport saves the best till last, countering the Wild-Driver in spectacular fashion!" cries Pete as Davenport slowly but surely turns over, pinning Wildchild's left arm out to the side and falling on top of his chest, driving his forearm into his face for the pin- ONE! TWO! TTTHHHHRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! DING! DING! DING! Much to his surprise, "Get Over It" plays for the second time tonight, something he didn't think he'd hear coming into this match. The crowd, too, are shocked by what they've witnessed, as somewhat numb applause is heard. "The winner of this match by pinfall…" Funyon roars, making it official, "WES DAVENPORT!" "Wow," is all King can utter, shaking his head. "Somehow, SOMEHOW, Wes' awful movie career is resulting in some sort of karmic effect, and giving him all this fantastic luck. That's the only way I can explain it." "Oh, very amusing King, but like it or not, Davenport has come out the victor," Pete replies, himself miffed by the result. "He focused on that arm almost exclusively, and his hard work paid off. I must say, I did not expect him to be that… proficient in his attack." As Melissa gets into the ring, kneeling down to check on her man's condition, Davenport rolls underneath the bottom rope, hitting the concrete floor with exhaustion. The actor picks himself up and walks back up the ramp way as a few more cheers for him are heard, and he slowly begins to smile as we… FADE OUT

Bruce v. Akira to be edited in.

Our view settles on a parking lot in front of a home high in the mountains, surrounded by pristine forests, bathed in the glow of a breathtaking sunset. Bruce Blank, dressed in friendly casual attire, stands in the center of the parking lot, in between two trucks. "If you're anything like me," he says, "your number one rule is Safety First. I wouldn't trust my family in just any truck. But safety reports have lots of big words, which frighten and confuse me. So I decided to perform my own safety test." He turns and walks to the truck on the left. "First up, the Toyota Tundra. Comfortably seats four people, and is ideal for camping trips and family outings. But what if you were to suddenly drive over a hundred thousand thumbtacks?" We cut to a shot of the Tundra, where Matt "Toyota Man" Myers is driving along a lonely mountain road- *BANG!* -the tires blow out, and the Tundra breaks through a guard rail and flies off a cliff! "The frame of the Tundra is sturdy, and supposedly it's built to last - but what happens if you're driving your children to school and you suddenly hit an electrified fence?" Matt "Toyota Man" Myers helms the Tundra again, with two Safety Dummies in the backseat as his children - they drive over more thumbtacks, and now through a fence- *ZZZZZZZZZZZT -as Myers' eyes roll into the back of his head, the safety dummies begin to melt... "With EXPLOSIVES?!" -and the vehicles goes up in flames, as stock sounds of children screaming are played in the background. "The windshield is a glass-plastic composite that has twice the impact rating of a normal windshield. But is that impact rating enough to withstand a steel chair?" Matt Myers again sits in the driver's seat, and Bruce slams a chair down on the windshield! To no effect. "... two steel chairs?" He doubles up two chairs and takes another swing - Myers recoils in horror, but the windshield holds. "THREE steel chairs?" *CLANG* Myers, still safe and sound in the front seat, sticks his tongue out. "Son of a bitch!" Bruce runs off into the background, towards the house, and for a moment there is silence. We then see Bruce re-enter the shot, on top of the house, where he sprints and leaps off the top, cannon-balling through the windshield of the Tundra and into Matt Myers with a mighty CRASH! A few seconds later, a bloodied Bruce Blank falls out of the driver's side door of the Tundra. After getting to his feet, he drags Myers out with him and hauls him over to the second truck, the Ford F350. "Ford's F350, on the other hand, can withstand all of these things - all F350's come equipped with new Mashalin Groove-Tech All-Weather tires, guaranteed to improve traction in rain, sleet, snow, thumbtacks, light tubes, and flaming table shards! These tires... (oh god, do I really have to say this?) ...these tires can't get their Groove back, because they'll never lose it." Matt Myers, barely coherent, braces himself on the F350 and starts to chuckle at this clever tagline. Bruce just climbs inside the vehicle, them gives a thumbs up to someone offscreen- -an electrical current suddenly courses through the frame of the truck! We cut to inside the truck, where an easy jazz station plays in the background. "As you can see," Bruce continues, with Myers getting fried in the back of the shot, "the frame of the F350 is made from an advanced metal polymer that reduces any and all electrical currents from the inside. If you ever come across electrified fences rigged with explosives... well... at least you'll survive the electrocution." He gives another thumbs up, the current stops, and Myers slumps to the ground. "And of course," Bruce says as he steps out of the truck and picks up Matt by the scruff of his neck, "the windshield is extremely tough. But don't take my word for it - take his!" "AAAAAAAAAAAAGH!" Matt Myers goes flying off the top of the house- *THUNK* - and bounces unceremoniously off the F350's now-bloodstained-but-thoroughly-in-tact windshield, and rolls to the ground. In between whimpers, we hear him say "This paycheck better be worth it." Bruce begins to wrap it up, climbing down off the roof and heading back over to the Ford truck. "As you can see, Ford has pulled out all the stops when it comes to your safety. It's a dangerous world out there, so remember this... ...if you're not buying Ford, you're buying your grave..." ... "... wait, wait, buying your grave? That's awful! Who wrote this crap?" Someone must have shouted Myers, because Bruce immediately grabs a nearby chair and begins pummeling the poor Toyota Man, as we fade out to the Ford logo... Ford Trucks - The Best Never Rest

“It’s time for the first Tag Title defence of 2006!” Longdogger Pete roars as the feed comes back to the Kingdome. “We’ve been waiting a long time-” “-only because there was no team worthy of challenging them,” Suicide King cuts in, “and I maintain that Landon Maddix and Max King aren’t either. However, I suppose that we have to go through with this farce…” “Farce?” Pete says in shock. “King, have you forgotten that KOJI Kitano is injured and unable to compete, and as yet we don’t know who if anyone Chris Card and TKO have found to replace him?” “No,” the Gambling Man replies, “but against a team like Landon and Max King, I really don’t think it matters. TORU could be partnered by Cardboard Comet and still come out on top.” ‘PREPARE… FOR… LANDON!’ *Waaaaaahhhhhhhh…* *DUM-DUM!* “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” The post-riff part of ‘Megalomaniac’ by Incubus hits, and as the crowd start to boo Landon Maddix steps out from behind the curtain. The former World Champion ignores the derision of the crowd and he starts to stride down towards the ring, sleeveless trenchcoat billowing behind him (with no evidence of stuffed cockroaches this time). He doesn’t look pleased, although whether that’s because of his losing streak, his opponents (and the mystery therein) or his tag team partner, is not clear. “Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall and is for the SWF World Tag Team Championships,” Funyon booms. “The challengers; first, from Huron, South Dakota; he weighs in tonight at 224lbs and represents Cucaracha Internacional; this is LANDON… ‘LA CUCA-RRRRRACH-AAAAAAAAA’… MAAAAAAAAAAAAD-DIIIIIIIIXXXXXXXXXX!!” Landon shrugs off his coat as he reaches the ring and throws it to timekeeper David Blazenwing, then rolls under the bottom rope into the ring and begins his pre-match stretches. “Why bother?” King asks, “it’s not like you’re going to win. I mean come on, he’s never even teamed with Max King before?” “Maybe not, but they’ve faced off many times,” LDP reminds his commentary partner, “and that can lead to wrestlers understanding each other even better than teaming together!” “Maybe, maybe,” Suicide King says, “but I think you’re overlooking one important thing; they can’t stand each other, and they’re more likely to fight each other than TORU and his partner.” ‘THE KING… HAS… RETURNED!’ ‘Superstar’ by Saliva kicks up, and Landon looks around with an expression of mild disgust on his face. Max King appears at the top of the ramp with the leggy beauty Kelly Connelly beside him - bringing a look of envy from Landon, who lost his own accompanying beauty last year - and the two hold a pose for a second before they start to make their way down the ramp. “…and his tag team partner,” Funyon booms, “accompanied to the ring by Kelly Connelly; from Cleveland, Ohio, he weighs in tonight at 250lbs; this is ‘The Icon’, MAAAAAAAXXXX… KIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNGGGG!!” “YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” The crowd pops for King in a way that they definitely didn’t do for Landon, which causes a further look of disgust to cross La Cucaracha’s face. King and Kelly step through the ropes into the ring, where Connelly removes her man’s vest and begins to give him some words of advice. Landon looks like he’s thinking of contributing some words of his own, but in the end decides against it and just leans in the corner looking sour. “Max King has had mixed fortunes since his return,” LDP says, “he got the better of Bruce Blank in a Cage match where you might have expected the Ultraviolent Champion to come out on top, but then he lost to the somewhat unknown package of Ghost Machine 2.0, and only a couple of weeks ago he lost in singles competition to TORU Takahara, one of his opponents tonight.” “Don’t forget that TORU beat Landon not that long ago as well,” King puts in, “in fact he might well be able to beat them both on his own!” Pete doesn’t respond to that assertion by King, but even if he had have done he would have been cut off by a sound that hasn’t been heard in the SWF this year so far; the electronic pulse that signifies the start of ‘Tribe’ by the Mad Capsule Markets. The lights first drop out and then begin to strobe as the Smarktron begins to flash up three familiar letters: T K O The crowd response is mixed; some fans cheers, some fans boo. However, none of this seems to have much of an effect on the big man who walks out onto the soundstage with his black vinyl trenchcoat flapping and his mirror shades reflecting the strobe of the lights so that his eyes seem to be flashing behind the dark glasses. “And their opponents,” Funyon begins, “introducing first, accompanied to the ring by Chris Card Enterprises; from Saitama Prefecture, Japan, he weighs in tonight at 264lbs; he is one half of the SWF Tag Team Champions; this is ‘The Japanese Hammer’… TOOOORRR-RRRRRUUUU… TAKA-HAAAARRRRRRRR-AAAAAAAA!!” “T!K!O!” “T!K!O!” The TKO Section at ringside manage to get their chant heard on TV, but TORU doesn’t pay them any more attention than he does the rest of the fans. However, something seems a little amiss; the Japanese Hammer is followed to the ring by one shape, not two. Natasha is present, but Chris Card is not in evidence. This doesn’t seem to faze TORU any more than anything else does, and the big man has his own title belt strapped around his waist with his partner KOJI’s over his shoulder. “But… where is Chris Card?” Longdogger Pete asks, “I’ve never seen either member of TKO come out for a match without both Card and Natasha being present!” “Maybe he’s still on the phone looking for a replacement partner,” King smirks, “but I don’t think he needs to bother. TORU can take these morons.” TORU shrugs his coat off and hands it, his shades and his title belts to Natasha. However, once the coat is removed it’s revealed that his left arm is heavily bandaged and strapped around the elbow. “That must be as a result of the match with JJ Johnson on Lockdown!” Pete says in realisation, “El Luchadore Magnifico refused to call for the bell for the submission when TORU first tapped, and I think we can now see the damage that’s been done!” Natasha has entered the ring and is talking with Funyon, who has covered the microphone. After the Goth Bitch stops talking Funyon nods and allows her to exit the ring, then raises his microphone once more. “And his tag team partner…” ‘…AND I MUST BE SOME KIND OF GEEEEENNNNNIIIIIIUUUUUSSSSSSSS!!’ Without any warning, ‘Genius’ by Pitchshifter kicks up over the PA system and a royal purple spotlight appears at the top of the entrance ramp. It takes some of the audience a few moments to realise what is going on, but then realisation dawns as a familiar figure steps out. The long black hair is close-cropped now and the sharp Italian suit has been replaced by plain black wrestling tights, but Chris Card still has the same smug expression. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “…from Nottingham, England and now residing in Toronto, Canada,” Funyon booms, “he weighs in tonight at 235lbs, this is ‘Technical Perfection’… CHRRRRIIIISSSS… CAAAARRRRRD!!” “It’s Card!” Pete shouts in disbelief, “I guess his contact list finally ran dry, and he’s had to step in himself!” Card jogs down the entrance ramp, ignoring the fans on all sides as they boo him - despite their varying attitude to the team he manages, Card has never been popular with the fans - and then rolls under the ropes into the ring. Technical Perfection exchanges words with TORU in Japanese and then steps out to the outside of the ring to let the Japanese Hammer start the match. *DING-DING-DING!* “Probably a wise move by Card,” Pete says, “he hasn’t been an active wrestler in the SWF for several years now, and I imagine he’ll let TORU carry the wrestling where possible; on the other hand, Card is a black belt in Muay Thai and could certainly take over for short periods to give TORU a break.” TORU waits apparently dispassionately in the middle of the ring, ready to take on whichever of his opponents chooses to step forwards. Landon and King hold a brief discussion which ends in Landon shoving The Icon towards Takahara and then stepping out through the ropes. King shrugs and prepare to lock up with TORU… but the Japanese Hammer seems reluctant to take the proffered collar-and-elbow tie-up, instead manoeuvring to keep his left side away from King. “TORU is already trying to protect that left arm,” Pete notes, “it’s understandable, but he might have just telegraphed his weak point to Max King!” King steps in again to try and grab TORU’s left arm, but this time Takahara moves towards his opponent and drives a knee into the unsuspecting King’s gut! Max staggers back, winded, and TORU starts to fire sharp low kicks into King’s left leg. The Icon staggers as the Japanese Hammer starts to attack his balance, but TORU’s kicks have a rhythm and King manages to catch his opponent’s foot, then swings it away to stagger Takahara in a circle. As TORU comes round again King steps in and this time manages to snag the big man’s left arm, then takes TORU over with an armdrag! *BANG!* TORU grunts in pain as his arm is jarred by the move, but Max King isn’t satisfied and starts to try and apply an armbar. All he gets for his pains is… well, pain, as TORU instantly lashes upwards with a knee to catch the Icon in the temple and break the hold, but the way the big man retreats and checks the strapping on his limb rather than following up shows that he has concerns. King gets back to his feet and, keeping his eyes on TORU, backs into his own corner to have a quick discussion with Landon Maddix about that arm. Landon rolls his eyes to indicate that he was capable of picking that particular point up and slaps King on the shoulder to indicate that he should get back in there and do it… but referee Brian Warner takes that as a tag, and demands that Landon enter the ring! Maddix doesn’t seem too eager, but King steps through the ropes and indicates that he should get in there and do it! “See? Even with one arm TORU has them arguing about who should take the ass-kicking,” King proclaims. Landon slaps his arms a few times to try and prepare himself, then cautiously advances towards TORU. Takahara keeps his left arm away from Landon as well, but he doesn’t seem quite as concerned about it against the technically questionable Maddix as he did against King. He’s also well aware of the overwhelming strength advantage he has, so when Landon offers a double knucklelock Takahara doesn’t seem too worried. However, TORU remembers too late what Landon did in their singles match a couple of weeks ago, and La Cucaracha does it again as he kicks away TORU’s right hand and instantly twists around behind the bigger man to apply a hammerlock. The difference between their last match and this one is the fact that TORU’s arm is already weakened, so instead of shrugging off Landon’s efforts the Japanese Hammer is evidently in pain as Maddix applies pressure to the injured arm! “LAN-DON SUCKS!” “LAN-DON SUCKS!” The crowd aren’t being too complimentary about the former World Champion, but Landon ignores them as he wrenches away on TORU’s arm. With TORU bent forward in pain Landon decides to improve and improvise, and he reaches around to try and lock in an abdominal stretch on his opponent with the hammerlock still in place. However, TORU is too strong for that and just shrugs him off, but Landon keeps hold of his opponent’s arm and jumps up to wrap his right hand around TORU’s face, then falls backwards into a Mount Crushmore that targets the hammerlocked arm! “What a move!” Pete shouts, impressed despite himself, “say what you like about him-” “-I do,” King interjects. “-but Landon Maddix is still one of the most inventive wrestlers in the SWF today,” Pete finishes as TORU rolls away, clutching his arm. Landon seems rather pleased with himself and quickly scurries over to his opponent to make the cover… ONE! TW- -but TORU kicks out before two, his injured arm not enough to keep his shoulders on the mat. Landon doesn’t seem overly worried, and he makes sure that he rakes his boot across TORU’s eyes as he gets up from the pin. Brian Warner confronts the Cockroach about this, but Landon just laughs him off and grabs TORU’s hair to bring him upright again. From there Landon attempts to Irish whip his opponent into the ropes, but TORU reverses it despite the pain in his left arm and sends La Cucaracha in instead. Landon rebounds and ducks under TORU’s attempted right arm lariat, but then bounces off the far ropes and surprises the big man with a satellite headscissors that he brings down into a crossface! “Landon has the crossface locked in, and that not only works the neck in preparation for a move like the Land of Nod or the King Buster,” Pete explains, “but also continues the work on that left arm!” “Hmmm. Landon appears to have some sense of continuity,” King muses, “are we sure this is the same guy?” TORU is definitely unimpressed with this offering from Landon and struggles to rise, but amazingly Maddix has the hold locked in too tight for the big man to power out. TORU’s own technical wrestling credentials are even more questionable than Landon’s, and as Card watches on from the apron it becomes clear to Technical Perfection that he may have to take a hand; that he does, or rather a boot, as he steps into the ring and kicks Landon in the head! “Foul,” King comments with a complete lack of interest, “cheap shot, disqualify him, ref. Yeah.” “Don’t pretend,” Pete says in disgust. Landon holds his head as he gets back to his feet, but he regains his composure enough to grab TORU and bring the pained big man up again. Then he draws back his right arm and unleashes a knife-edge chop… *SMACK!* “WHOOO!” …but although TORU takes half a step back the Japanese Hammer seems relatively unfazed, and in fact gives Landon the bird! Maddix grinds his teeth in fury and swings with a right, but TORU ducks under it and then hauls Landon up in the air with what appears to be a backdrop suplex, but then gets turned into a chokeslam! *BANG!* “Ore Ga TORU!” King calls as his least favourite wrestler gets pancaked onto the mat. “What does that mean, anyway?” Pete asks, not much of a linguist. “‘I Am TORU’,” the Gambling Man informs him. “Even when he’s speaking his own language he’s got a limited vocabulary,” the Miami Menace sighs. TORU gets back to his feet, then drops a knee into Landon’s face. The Next Generation holds his head and rolls away but TORU is slow to follow up again, still holding his left arm rather gingerly. Chris Card leans over the top rope and calls for the tag, and TORU obliges! *smak* Chris Card steps into the ring and walks over to Landon as the Next Generation gets groggily up to his knees, then with the speed of a striking cobra that happens to have two legs and walk upright, Card lashes out with a kick that takes Maddix square in the jaw! *CRACK!* “Well, Card might not have stepped into an SWF ring for a few years, but he still hits as hard as ever,” Pete comments as Landon collapses backwards. Card laughs as his former protégé and long-standing enemy falls to the mat, then brings Landon up and wraps one hand around La Cucaracha’s throat before kicking his leg out forwards and snapping it back to take Maddix down with the Space Tornado Card! Card quickly scoots into a cover… ONE! TWO!! …but Landon kicks out well before three. Card sighs and brings him up, then adopts a Muay Thai clinch and starts firing knee strikes into his opponent. Maddix is backed up into a corner, whereupon Card breaks as Brian Warner demands but instantly starts lashing out with roundhouse kicks! *WHACK!* *WHACK!* *WHACK!* *WHACK!* Maddix slumps down into a seated position, and Card steps in to put his boot on La Cucaracha’s throat and begin choking! Max King notices this before Brian Warner does and steps into the ring to protest, but Warner turns around to cut him off… and Landon takes advantage of this to kick upwards into Card’s crotch! *CHING!* Card staggers back and Landon hauls himself up to his feet, his head clearly ringing but also clearly determined to get a few shots in on his former teacher. With Card bent double and holding his crotch Landon grabs his head and begins firing Kawada-style kicks into Technical Perfection’s face! *WHACK!* *WHACK!* *WHACK!* *WHACK!* Card is dazed by the shots and staggers back further, but Landon doesn’t allow him to catch his breath and follows up with a Dropsault that puts Card onto his back! Landon instantly pushes himself up from his landing position on his stomach and shuffles forwards, hooking his shoulders under Card’s knees and rolling Technical Perfection back onto his shoulders… ONE! TWO!! …but Card kicks out! Landon displays considerable disgruntlement at this development and gets back to his feet before jumping onto Card with a double stomp, then instantly falling into a back senton to demonstrate his displeasure. The breath roars out of Technical Perfection’s lungs and Maddix gets up and dusts himself off, then steps through the ropes and heads up to the top rope. With Card on the mat the Next Generation leaps into the air and comes down looking for the Swandive Headbutt… but Card moves! *BANG!* Landon hits nothing but mat and rears up again clutching his forehead, and Card desperately grabs his former student in a rear facelock before staggering up to his feet… “He’s going for the Cardiac Arrest!” Pete yells as Card applies a hammerlock to the beleagured Landon… but then Technical Perfection spins around, twisting the move into a modified Diamond Cutter! “I think he calls that the Cardiac Arrest ‘06,” King says in a bored voice, “I heard on the grapevine that he invented it when he got a job with ECF.” “ECF?” “Yeah, some two-bit fed,” King says dismissively. Card and Landon are both flat out, each one seriously needing to catch a break. Referee Brian Warner starts to count and both men finally start moving, crawling towards their respective corners… “LET’S GO MA-AX!” “LET’S GO MA-AX!” Unsurprisingly the crowd are eager to see Max King get in the ring, and as Landon crawls closer it looks like they’ll have their chance. Both he and Card reach up to their respective partners… *smak* *smak* “And we’re on!” Pete yells as King and TORU hop over the top rope at the same time and charge at each other. King ducks under the TORU lariat and bounces off the ropes behind the Japanese Hammer, then roars back at him and hits a flying forearm before rolling to his feet and posing for the crowd! “YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “LET’S GO MA-AX!” “LET’S GO MA-AX!” TORU gets back to his feet and shakes his head to try and dispel the cobwebs, but King is there first and kicks him in the gut then places him in a standing headscissors. However, TORU has no interest in taking the jumping piledriver for a second time in a fortnight and he powers up, lifting King over in a back bodydrop! *WHAM!* Landon sees his partner go down, rolls his eyes and with a ‘have I got to do everything myself?’ air he steps back through the ropes… but then gets cut off as Card rushes back across the ring and clotheslines him over the top ropes, taking them both to the outside! “It’s breaking down!” Pete calls. TORU grabs Max King and drags him up, then knees him in the gut and places him in a double underhook to set up the Tiger Driver! However, his weakened left arm can’t hold it and Max twists out before TORU can attempt to lift, then grabs TORU’s left arm and takes him down into a Fujiwara armbar that causes the big man to yell out in pain! “He’s got him!” LDP yells in excitement, “Max King has got TORU’s injured arm, and Card is out on the floor with Maddix!” Indeed, Chris Card is occupied with brawling with Landon on the floor, but as the crowd chants ‘TAP!’ he looks around to see what’s going on and realises that his client/partner is in trouble. He turns to re-enter the ring- *CRACK!* -and Landon, seeing that Brian Warner is concentrating on King and TORU, grabs a chair and pastes Card in the back of the head with it! “FOUL!” King bawls, not really bothered about Card but concerned at the fact that it leaves TORU in trouble, “DISQUALIFY HIM, REF!” Sadly Brian Warner can’t hear the Suicide King. *tap-tap-tap* He hears and sees TORU’s hand tapping out on the mat though! *DING-DING-DING!* “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “Ladies and gentlemen, the winners of this match and NEW~ SWF World Tag Team Champions,” Funyon booms, “the team of Landon ‘La Cucaracha’ Maddix, and ‘The Icon’, MAAAAAXXXXXXX… KIIIIIIIINNNNNNNGGGG!!” Max King releases his hold on TORU’s arm and raises his arms in celebration as Brian Warner hands him one of the title belts. Landon hastily drops his chair as Warner beckons to him, then slides into the ring to receive his half of the prize as well. Despite his pleasure at regaining the straps that TKO took from him in Japan (not to mention getting to paste Card with a chair), the Next Generation looks a little dubious at who he has won those straps with… and then rather nauseous as Kelly climbs into the ring and literally jumps into the arms of her man! “It’s an outrage!” Suicide King roars, “only one member of the Tag Champions was competing! This wasn’t a real title match! I call bullshit!” Sadly (or maybe not) King’s last-ditch attempt at denying tonight’s events carry no weight with Brian Warner. He raises the hands of both Landon Maddix and Max King… and new tag team champions are crowned. FADE OUT

A carefree SWF audience faces the facts that they have once again been entertained by what some deem is the most entertaining show on cable television not named the Boondocks. Reasons for the immense amount of entertainment would go as followed. 1. WRESTLING 2. Characters 3. Crowd signs. Let’s not disappoint. “JOHNSON’S GOING TO KILL YOU…and the glove won’t fit.” The SWF cameraman quickly turns away from the audience before getting the company hit with meaningless insults and pocket change lawsuits. Instead the program reports to the announce table where the voices of wrestling are prepared to do their job. “I hate fags…” Or not. … … … … “Are we on air…oh really?” “Tonight has been a great night of wrestling and I for sure can’t wait until tonight’s main event where there is a HUGE chance we will see our World champ face off against the number one contender.” “That’s right Pete, and I can’t wait until the end of the night where I will probably lose my job and go back to working a horrible management job.” “You worked for FOX.” “No…UPN.” “Oh…King you have my condolences.” “I’M BORN!” “Great and this could be the last person I want to see.” “I’M ALIVE!” “I BREATHE!!” “Vitamin” plays over the PA causing the pawns in the KINGDOME to celebrate the arrival of the prince of cruisers. The newly completed Smarktron for the Unique Youth includes his many battles with one JJ Johnson along with his matches with Jay Hawke, Spike Jenkins, and previous hardcore encounters during his hardcore title reign. Standouts would include his cruiserweight title victory and his missed Final Flash against Japanese giant TORU! “YEEEEAAAHHH!” The crowd explodes as Zyon escapes the nothingness of the dreaded black curtain before turning to look at the excited crowd. Surprisingly, the youth is all smiles even after falling short last week in his Genesis rematch against the International champ Jay Hawke. However, this week Zyon wastes little time sprinting down the entrance ramp smacking a few nameless hands on the way down. “Hailing from Elkhart Indiana, and weighing in at 200 lbs. The reigning SWF Cruiserweight champion, ZYYYON!!!” Funyon announces to the delight of most as Zyon enters the ring unstrapping his title before leaping into his standard head bang/belt raise combo. Zyon nonchalantly tosses the title to a beautiful lady at ringside while he awaits his “charismatic” opponent. “Tonight Zyon faces an opponent who he has never faced before.” Suddenly the lights drop as a horrific knockoff of the orchestral tune “One Winged Angel” plays leaving the gamers in the audience to MARK DA FUCK OUT! And then they see the outcome. The lights slowly click back on revealing a man with long white hair in the form of a cheap wig. Dressed in a black cloak with mystical green CONTACTS staring out into the audience. The favorite video game villain of many has made his debut in the SWF shocking everyone…by how bad it all is. “Coming to the ring….hailing from unknown…weighing in at unknown. Uhhh…Sephiroth?” Matt Myers cosplaying as the Final Fantasy villain slowly saunters down to the ring as Zyon like many of the other gamers are terribly disappointed by the charade. The ultimate SOLDIER enters the ring before exiting back into a random turnbuckle looking totally out of his element. “What is this?” “Well Pete since you are about as hip as Tidus fanboys let me break it down for ya. This here is Matt Myers…THE MASTER OF COSPLAY. And he has graced us with his vision of Sephiroth the greatest villain in video gaming history like oh my gawd.” “Right…” Referee John Withers looks at the overly dressed competitor before shrugging his shoulders and ringing the bell. DING DING DING!!! The bell sounds as Zyon hops around energetically taking the match as serious as humanly possible before Matt Myers reaches into his sheathe. Panicking, Zyon charges simply shoving Sephiroth to the mat as the weapon in the sheathe comes piling out. Many in the audience are ready to step far away preparing for the massive sword used to kill Aeris. “I BEAT FF7 WITH AERIS STILL IN MY PARTY!!!” No you didn’t. Zyon looks down on the befallen villain before eyeing down what really came out from the sheathe…a dagger the size of a pocketknife! “I’m guessing security wouldn’t allow Myers in the building with a visible sword.” “…I guess not.” Embarrassed the cosplay master attempts to kip up to his feet, but fails miserably. Zyon can’t help, but feel embarrassed for actually competing in such a match. Rising to his feet by conventional means Sephiroth begins to speak, and the crowd can actually here him!!! “Ok who’s bright idea was it to mic Myers.” “And who’s bright idea was it for Sephiroth to speak. We all know that the dialogue in the GREATEST RPG OF ALL TIME was text only.” “King, how do you know all of this?” Back to the match Zyon can only look on stunned as the words boom out from Myers sinister voice box. “I summon…METEOR!!!!” “Oh shit NO!!!” “King what is it?” “We are all going to die…” The crowd mutters, as Sephiroth is all smiles… … … …Still smiling. “King what the hell is this.” “HOW ARE YOU STILL TALKING? You should be dead…wait I SHOULD BE DEAD!! ZYON SAVED US!!!” King screams to the heavens as Zyon shoots a blank stare toward the audience who shoot one right back. Before anything can get remotely out of hand, Zyon fires off a quick forearm to the face of the cosplay master knocking him back into the turnbuckle. The Cruiserweight champion hurries forward blasting Sephiroth with a sharp elbow to the face bruising Myers like a bad habit. The youth doesn’t stop there as he continues to deliver sharp elbows to the defenseless SOLDIER alumni. One Two Three Four Zyon breaks away before the five count giving Sephiroth a chance to compose himself. Zyon latches on to the villain Irish whipping him across the ring into the turnbuckle as he charges in close behind… “CRACK!” “Sephiroth!” King mimics the One Winged Angel theme as Myers uses what is left of his wrestling ability to kick Zyon in the face. The youth staggers backward as suddenly over the PA plays the horrible knockoff of One Winged Angel symbolizing that Zyon’s time is drawing to a close. “My this is slightly overdramatic don’t you think King?” “This is glorious.” ????????? Sephiroth in full control nearing world domination charges Zyon who easily takes Myers over with a power slam! Myers shuffles with his wig making sure it stays put as a slightly agitated Zyon puts the boots to Sephiroth treating him like a second rate Turk member. Grabbing Myers by his cheap cloak, Zyon Irish whips the Sephiroth wannabe into the ropes. The youth prepares an Omnislash like assault, but Sephiroth uses his experience in SOLDIER to retreat to the outside. The youth looks on confused as Sephiroth ducks down and pulls out a large box full of god knows what. Many in the crowd look on horrified, as the cloak becomes a red feudal cloth… “What is he doing?” Pete questions. The cosplay master appears in front of the cameras a new man…or in a more specific case…a new half demon. “It’s Inuyasha, Pete!” “Myers ears…is this Inuyasha some sort of complicated dog?” Inuyasha enters the ring disallowing Zyon’s usual highflying action. Instead, Zyon is at a lost on what to truly do. The crowd seems entertained enough in Myers mental delusions… …And then he remembers that he lost against Hawke. Zyon charges down the warpath ready to trap Inuyasha not against a tree, but against a wall…a WALL OF EXTRAORDINARY PAIN AND BLOOD AND GUTS AND OH MY GOD MY CAPS LOCK IS STUCK!! Ok it’s better. However, Zyon’s violent mind set changes in mid stride as a small, slender figure appears at the top of the ramp. “Kagome!” Inuyasha shouts as the one anime nerd in the audience is in heaven. “Kagome…giggity.” King… Ok make that two. And with a step forward Kagome realizes the dream of producing an everlasting gag reflects since the girl is no girl at all. Sure the white shirt and green schoolgirl skirt is well intact it’s just that during his travel Matt Myers has well made friends with a manly midget…and yeah. “No giggity, oh my god...I can’t believe my pants actually…” “KING!!!” Pete saves the Gambling man from further embarrassment. The midget in drag saunters down the aisle just as Zyon turns his attention back toward his opponent who takes a step forward before shoving his hand toward Zyon while screaming… “Iron Reaver Soul Stealer!!” Kagome…gag…cheers on Inuyasha like a love struck…gag…puppy. Zyon calmly waits for some sort of power punch, but all Myers brings is a lame attack name. Finished playing the cosplay game, Zyon latches on to Myers’ hand disabling the chance at another iron curtain claw strafe attack…or whatever it was. Grinning from ear to ear, Zyon leaps into the air throwing a roundhouse kick hell bent on dislodging the cosplay masters’ head from his shoulders. “SIT BOY!!!” The midget shouts causing the cosplay masters to act his part to a tee as he drops to the ground like gravity was multiplied by five hundred. “SWISH!” Zyon’s leg floats through the air making contact with nothing, but atmosphere giving Inuyasha the chance to reach into his sheathe before shouting… “WIND SCAR!!!” “Well Pete this has been a great match, but Zyon’s dead.” “What?” “Oh Pete it’s over trust me.” Suicide King would be correct if this was the real Inuyasha in the feudal times. Instead, this is some cosplay weirdo in modern times. Myers pulls out another sword resembling a butter knife causing Zyon to panic for a moment… …Before referee John Withers relinquishes Myers of the possible dangerous weapon. “King our weakest referee who lost a bar fight to the corpse of Malcolm X just overpowered Matt Myers.” “Hey Malcolm X was a tough customer, more stubborn than a government mule.” “And let me guess you heard the bar fight was a sure slobber knocker.” Myers attempts to retaliate against the defenseless referee, but Zyon easily takes the master of cosplay down with a tackle. Inuyasha squirms to get free as everyone in the arena realize that Myers pay must be quite high to do what he’s doing. “Don’t hurt Kagome!!!” Inuyasha screams as Zyon could care less about the midget in drag. “CRACK!” Zyon lowers a bombing forearm on the anime character as Inuyasha just like the TV series refuses to stop…squirming. Zyon looks to put the mentally unstable competitor out of his misery, but Myers actually breaks free and scurries to a random corner leaving Zyon to roll his eyes. “The Unique Youth has yet to break a sweat, and what the heck is Myers doing?” Pete along with everyone else in the arena questions as Inuyasha disrobes to reveal an orange karate outfit with a blue under suit. Myers removes the white wig before unveiling a new shiny black spiky hair due as he poses in front of the audience. “Zyon…you…are…going…DOWN!!” Myers in a new character taunts the youth as Zyon can only think of the Super Dragon Suplex being more painful than watching his current opponent. “What is with Myers new found confidence?” “Fool, all true Saiyans have the utmost confidence in their abilities.” “Say-in?” “Yeah did I stutter? You are witnessing the arrival of Goku an alien that was raised on Earth.” “Kind like superman…oh wait I shouldn’t give Myers any more ideas.” In the ring Goku continues to stall as Zyon wishes he was at home about now. Being a nice guy and all, the youth secretly decides to let Goku have the first strike… …But all he does is stall. “Look at that face. He must have an unbelievable amount of determination.” …Myers continues to stall not making a single move. “Fuck it.” Zyon mutters before taking a step forward causing Myers to finally make a move by throwing his arms into the air with his palms up. “What is he doing?” Pete along with Zyon wonders as Goku thinks in his mind what he needs to happen, and in all anime’s the viewers can hear the main character’s deepest inner thoughts. “The water, mountains, grass, Rick James cocaine. People of Earth give me your energy.” “What…the…fu…King put your hands down.” “He needs my energy for the Spirit Bomb.” Goku continues to stand his ground as Zyon shoots in knee first… “CRACK!!” And places a brutal knee into his opponent’s sternum following it up with a strong forearm than puts the deranged opponent to the ground. With little hesitation, Goku rises back to his feet and throws his arms into the air once again. Zyon’s eye begins to twitch in frustration as he bounces off the ropes and leaps into the air giving Myers a slight moment of clarity… “Oh shi…” Before the cosplay master can finish his line Zyon kills him dead with a SNAP dropkick. Goku falls to the mat motionless before going into another monologue. “People of Earth…I let you down. I did everything I could to stop the terror known as Zyon. My friends, my family, the universe I did everything I could…” “SHUT UP!!!” Zyon screams as he raises his hand into the air for one last bomb… “GOKU!!!” The midget formerly known as Kagome screams now dressed in a orange karate Gi along with the blue undergarment…and he’s bald. “KRILLIN!” King shouts in joy as the midget playing a midget tosses a food into the ring. “Goku…senzu bean.” Krillin tosses the magical bean towards his friend who catches it like his life depended on it. Goku immediately shoves the food into his mouth…before standing up like he is completely rejuvenated… …We’ll ignore the bruises and minor cuts though. “That’s it Zyon. I’m going to step it up a notch.” The cosplay master begins to grind his teeth while clenching his fist. Shaking uncontrollably Myers resembles a seizure victim on the brink of an acid trip…or at the very least a very constipated individual. “HAAAAAAAAA!” Goku screams uncontrollably, and suddenly the arena lights mysteriously turn up causing a complete white out. “King…I can’t see.” Slowly the lights fade back to normal revealing a modified Goku. There is a cheap yellow aura surround him along with a shiny blond wig… “Pete…this is a Super Saiyan.” “This is super weird if you ask me.” Zyon looks on stunned by the stupidity of it all as Goku goes into another monologue. “Zyon…you see you don’t stand a chance. Please surrender I don’t want to hurt you. You could be a good person and use your skills for good not evil.” Zyon ignores the plea and strides forward as Goku cups his hands. “Ka…Ma…AH…MA….AHHHHHHH!” A tensed up Myers screams as he pulls his hands forward… “He’s going to destroy the planet.” “He’s going to destroy our ratings.” Obviously nothing comes of the overdramatics as Zyon knocks Goku to the ground causing a red button to fly out of his hand ridding the world of that annoying yellow aura. “It was a trick!” “Ok Mr. Satan.” “What?” “Oh yeah that’s right, your American. Ok Hercule.” “WHAT????” Zyon forces Myers to his feet before hoisting him into the air in a suplex position. Krillin can only watch in horror like in the television show as Zyon spikes Myers to the mat with a snap brain buster. The youth takes his time heading toward the turnbuckle before ascending it. Once he reaches the top he pauses for a moment as Krillin makes one last attempt to save the day… “Ugh…On the next episode of SWF TV Zyon and Goku fight it out to the finish. Does Zyon have what it takes to win? Can Goku come back and finish off the dastardly youth? Will the world end? Can…” “SHUT UP!!!” Zyon yells sending the midget running scared. “I don’t get paid enough…” Zyon mutters before leaping down and crushing Goku with a Final Flash…and somewhere a clan of Vegeta supporter celebrate. Zyon goes for the academic cover as the referee makes the count. ONE!!! TWO!!!! THREE!!! DING! DING! DING! The bell sounds as “Vitamin” plays. “The winner, ZYYYON!” Zyon emerges to his feet and quickly exits the ring hoping that the brainbuster set the cosplay master straight. Many in the crowd cheer, but most were either confused or too busy laughing at the stupidity that is Myers. Zyon exits with the cruiserweight title while Myers awakens from his slumber… “Am I in HFIL????” CUT TO COMMERCIAL NOW!!!!

Battle Royal will be edited in...