chirs3

+ + ____________________ The Duffleosity Muffins.

Caveman Chris could use some Chow Mein, if you've any left to spare. Now, question time - how do I move the flies blocking my way in the mountain?

Where's this Hermitage that Rando told me about? I need the sweet rims to finish my car. And apparently I got a quest to slay the Goblin King, but I don't remember ever hearing about it. What's this all aboot?

For some reason, I seem to recall knowing about Landon, and just forgetting like an idiot. I'll post a revision soon. OK, Hawke made as last minute substitution. I know Walters is a bit busy this weekend, and Hawke's coming in late, so I'll knock the word limit down a bit.

Fair enough. *cancels Pretzler vs. Dangerous for the World Title*

When I was back in seminary school There was a person there who put forth the proposition That you can petition the Lord with prayer. Petition the Lord with prayer? Petition the Lord with prayer?! YOU CANNOT PETITION THE LORD WITH PRAYER!! SWF Storm returns from its commercial break as Led Zeppelin’s “Kashmir” signals the arrival of the Smarkdown Commissioner, “The Superior One” Tom Flesher! “Welcome back, fans!” shouts Longdogger Pete, “It is now time for our main event of the evening!” Tom Flesher makes his way out in front of the sold out Cedar Point crowd. Following him are the team known as “The Gods of Professional Wrestling.” Funyon stands in the middle of the ring, ready to announce the incoming trio. “The following contest is scheduled for ONE FALL! First, making their way to the ring!” booms Funyon, “Coming to the ring with the SWF Smarkdown Commissioner, ‘The Superior One’ Tom Flesher! Weighing in at a total of Four Hundred and Forty-One pounds! They are ‘The Critic’ Scott Pretzler, and the SWF International Champion, ‘The Dean of Professional Wrestling’ Jay HAAAAWKKEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!” “Hear the reaction the home-state hero, Jay Hawke, is getting!” shouts King. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!” “It’s a very nice welcome home, isn’t it King?” “I’ve never heard of anything finer!” Pretzler and Hawke, with the International Title firmly strapped around his waist, enter the ring to the jeers of the Ohio audience. “This match taking place due to the actions of what took place on Smarkdown,” Pete begins to explain, “After Zyon scored the upset victory over Spike Jenkins in a singles match…which, I must mention, was helped by the interference from Tom Flesher…Jay Hawke and Scott Pretzler ran out and attacked Jenkins from behind.” “And we will never know why this attack took place!” adds King. “Please, we all know it was orchestrated by Tom Flesher!” “How dare you accuse Taamo of such heinous actions!” “Anyway,” continues Pete, “Zyon came back to the ring and helped Spike fight off Hawke and Pretzler…which leads us to tonight’s main event!” “I’M BORN! I’M ALIVE! I BREATHE!!” “Vitamin” by Incubus kicks in as Zyon walks on to the ramp looking over the arena at the fans that are looking at him. As the song picks up Zyon runs down to the ring. He stops as he hits the ringside area and waits for his partner… …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. “AND THEIR OPPONENTS!” booms Funyon, “Coming to the ring, weighing in at a total of Four Hundred and Twenty pounds! They are Zyon and ‘Hollywood’ Spiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiike Jennnnnnnkinnnnnssssssssss!!!!!!” Spike makes his way down to ringside, standing side by side with Zyon. They both stare at their opponents, talking over strategy, as Funyon and Tom Flesher both leave the ring. Flesher grins maliciously on the outside. All four competitors stand in their corners, Spike telling Zyon to leave, as Pretzler and Hawke agree to let Hawke start. “Our main event for Storm is underway!” shouts Pete. *Ding Ding Ding* Spike and Hawke charge out of their corner, circling around the ring. They enter the center of the ring and lock up in a collar-elbow tie up. Both men struggle for control, but the stronger and heavier Jenkins pushes Hawke back into the corner. Jay wraps himself over the top rope, using his ring positioning to force the referee to push Jenkins away. Spike slowly releases Jay…and gives him a clean break! “This is the first time that Spike Jenkins and Jay Hawke have ever stepped into an SWF ring together,” notes Pete, “And Spike gives him a clean break out of the corner!” Spike walks back into the opposite corner as Hawke comes out of his. On the apron and outside the ring, Scott Pretzler and Tom Flesher applaud the ring presence of the SWF International Champion. Spike and Jay come out of their corners once more and circle around. They meet in the center of the ring and lock up in another collar-elbow tie up. They both struggle for control again, but once again, the stronger and heavier Jenkins pushes Hawke back into the ropes…but Hawke is able to shift his weight and spins Spike into the ropes. Spike wraps himself over the top rope, forcing the referee to push Hawke off. “Jenkins gets into the ropes and Jay Hawke has to release the hold.” Hawke slowly backs away from Spike, giving him a clean break… …Or so we think, as Hawke hits Spike with a haymaker right to the jaw! “BOOOOOOOO!!!” “What kind of champion is Jay Hawke when he can’t even return a clean break!” cries Pete. “This is professional wrestling, Pete; not ballet!” Spike, stunned from the right hand, holds his jaw. This allows Hawke to open up on Spike’s wide-open chest, as he unleashes several quick knife-edged chops! “WHOOOOOOOO! WHOOOOOOO! WHOOOOOOO!” Spike shoves Jay away…and starts unloading several of his own knife-edged chops! “WHOOOOOOOO! WHOOOOOOO! WHOOOOOOO!” Jay Hawke stumbles backwards, allowing Spike the opportunity to lock his arm into a standing arm-bar…that he uses to lock his fingers with Hawke’s in a Greco-Roman knuckle lock. Jay squeals in pain as he drops to his knees. Spike locks his other hand with Jay’s free hand and twists at the wrists. “Greco-Roman knuckle lock by Jenkins!” Jay cries in pain as Spike wrenches on his fingers and hands. He fights to his feet, pushing Spike back slightly…and whipping out three consecutive kicks to the ribcage of Jenkins! Spike kneels over as Jay gets to a full stance. He twists at Spike’s wrists, forcing Jenkins to his knees! “Oh, how the tides have turned!” laughs King. The heels side laughs as Spike tries to wiggle out. Spike pushes himself up to a standing position…but quickly rolls backwards to the mat. He pulls Hawke into a kneeling position. He uses his legs to break the knuckle lock, and flips Hawke forward into a sunset flip! ONE!!! TWO!!!! NO! Hawke rolls forward, holding Spike’s legs into his own cradle! “A quick counter into a sunset flips by Jenkins; that is turned into a cradle!” ONE!!! TWO!!!! NO! Spike pushes Hawke back into a sunset flip! ONE!!! TWO!!!! NO! Hawke rolls backwards out of the sunset flip. Both men get to their feet, and Hawke charges in at Jenkins…who catches Jay with an arm drag takeover! Both men get to their feet, this time Spike charges at Jay…who catches Spike with an arm drag takeover! They both get to their feet again. Jay charges at Spike, who gets another arm drag takeover! Spike holds onto the arm as he turns Hawke over onto his stomach. Jenkins drops to the mat, wraps his legs around Hawke’s free arm, and pulls him over into a crucifix pin! ONE!!! TWO!!! NO! Hawke kicks out of the crucifix! Hawke tries to roll away, but Jenkins quickly grabs a hold of his arm and locks in an arm-bar! “Counters back and forth between Jay Hawke and Spike Jenkins!” Spike wrenches on the arm as he pulls Hawke up to his feet. Spike changes the arm-bar into an arm wringer, driving the elbow of Hawke’s over his shoulder. Jenkins pulls Jay towards his corner, ready to tag in Zyon…when Hawke pulls away from Spike and jumps back into his own corner, tagging in Scott Pretzler! “The International Champion wants NOTHING to do with Zyon!” “Of course he doesn’t,” starts King, “Zyon got destroyed by Hawke on Smarkdown! He tapped out to the Wing Span in a matter of seconds!” “It was a cheap shot and you know it!” Spike turns to Zyon and tags in the highflying sensation. The former Cruiserweight Champion steps into the ring, taking his time as he eyes his opponent. “Much like Spike Jenkins and Jay Hawke meeting each other for the first time in this match, this is the first encounter between Zyon and Scott Pretzler!” “Aren’t you Mr. Smarty-Pants!” Both men enter the center of the ring, Pretzler eyeing the flashy cruiserweight. He looks back at Flesher and Hawke with a smirk, turns back to Zyon, and shoves him! Zyon stumbles back, but retaliates with a shove of his own! Pretzler, feeling disrespected, throws a right hand at the former Hardcore Gamers Champion…which is blocked! Zyon strikes Scott with a right hand…a second one…and a third one! Zyon grabs Scott by the wrist and Irish whips him into the ropes…but Pretzler reverses. Zyon charges into the ropes, hits them, and bounces off. He comes running back towards Pretzler, who throws his arm up for a clothesline…but Zyon ducks and continues off the ropes. Zyon hits the ropes again and comes flying back…into the awaiting arms of a Scott Pretzler tilt-a-whirl…but Zyon is too fat, as he spins through, wrapping his legs around Scott’s head…and a head scissors takeover! “Head scissors by the ultra-fast Zyon!” Pretzler crawls into his teams’ corner as Zyon jumps around the ring, getting the crowd excited! “Zyon and Spike Jenkins have taken The Gods of Professional Wrestling by storm!” “What the hell does that mean?” asks an angry King. “It means Tom Flesher’s team is getting beat down!” Outside the ring, Flesher storms around his teams corner in anger. On the opposite end of the ring, Spike stands on the bottom rope, clapping his hands together to get the crowd behind him and Zyon. *CLAP* *CLAP* *CLAP* Pretzler pulls himself out of his corner and onto his feet. Him and Zyon meet eyes from across the ring, as they circle around. They both enter the center of the ring and go for a collar-elbow tie up…which never happens, as Pretzler kicks Zyon square in the gut. Zyon kneels over, allowing Pretzler the opportunity to drive a forearm into the square of the back! Zyon stumbles back, trying to get away from Scott, who follows up with a knife-edged chop to the chest! “WHOOOOO!” Scott grabs Zyon by the wrist and Irish whips him off the ropes. Zyon hits the ropes and comes charging back, ducking underneath an elbow attempt by Pretzler. Zyon picks up speed as he hits the opposite ropes. He flies towards Scott, who tries to get out of the way, but is too late, as he gets hit in the chest with a front dropkick! Both men hit the mat, but Zyon quickly kips up! “The move Zyon calls, The Snap!” notes Pete, “The front dropkick followed up by a kip up!” Pretzler rolls over onto his knees and woozily gets to his feet. He turns to face his opponent, who leaps into the air and connects with a dropkick! Scott hits the mat hard as Zyon gets the lateral press! ONE!!!! TWO!!! T-NO! Scott Pretzler kicks out! “A kick out by the greatest SWF Cruiserweight Champion in history!” “You mean the man who STOLE the Cruiserweight Title from Spike Jenkins?” “No…” begins The Suicide King, “I mean the man who BEAT Spike Jenkins for the Cruiserweight Title!” Zyon jumps to his feet, as he heads into his corner and tags Spike. Zyon quickly goes back to the now rising Pretzler, grabbing him and pulling him towards the ropes. Zyon grabs Pretzler around the waist, hoisting him up off the mat, and dropping him down over the knee for a backbreaker. Zyon holds Pretzler over his knee as Spike sets himself up on the apron. Jenkins springboards himself up onto the top rope…and comes crashing down with a double stomp across the wide-open chest of Scott Pretzler!!!!! “OH MY GOD!” “HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!” “Double team maneuver by Jenkins and Zyon that may have just knocked Scott Pretzler out!” Zyon slides out of the ring as Spike turns Scott over for the cover! ONE!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!! THREE-----NO!!!! Jay Hawke runs into the ring and breaks up the three count with a kick to the back of Jenkins’ head! “Jay Hawke saving his team from a loss after that incredible Double Stomp/Backbreaker combo!” “Moves like that should not be legal! Scott Pretzler could have been seriously hurt!” “King, this is wrestling; not ballet.” “Smart ass.” The referee tells Hawke to get out of the ring, as he goes back to his corner. Spike gets to his feet, peeling Pretzler off the mat. He scoops Scott up and drives him to the mat with a body slam. Spike goes into his corner, tagging in Zyon, who hops into the ring. Both Spike and Zyon head over to the downed Scott, where Spike pulls Zyon into a front face-lock? “What is this?” questions King, “Is Jenkins stupid enough to attack his own teammate?” Spike grabs Zyon by the waist and lifts him up into the air for a suplex…but instead of dropping him back, he throws Zyon up…who rotates and crashes down onto Pretzler with a 450 Splash! “WHAT IS GOING ON?” shrieks King, “Where are all these double team moves coming from?” Spike exits the ring as Zyon makes the cover! ONE!!!!! TWO!!!!! THREE------NO! Jay Hawke breaks up the pin again! “That Suplex/450 Splash Combo almost getting another three count!” remarks Pete, “Tom Flesher’s duo are in trouble!” Zyon climbs to his feet, pulling Pretzler up with him. He pushes Scott back into a corner, giving him a knife-edged chop for good measure. Grabbing Pretzler by the wrist, Zyon Irish whips him across the ring…only for Pretzler to reverse it, sending Zyon into the opposite corner. Pretzler follows behind Zyon as he flies into the corner…but Pretzler isn’t fast enough to move out of the way as Zyon shoots up to the top rope, leaps backwards as he corkscrews off the top into the standing Scott Pretzler! “The No Regard!” shouts Pete, “The corkscrew press from the top rope!” Zyon covers Pretzler! ONE!!!! TWO!!!! THRE---NO! Scott Pretzler just gets a shoulder up! “Scott Pretzler has taken so much damage in this match so far, it’s a showing of his will and fortitude that he kicked out of that…non-sense flippy floppy move!” says King. Zyon grabs Scott around the neck and locks in a side headlock. “Side headlock by Zyon,” notes Pete, “Using this move to give him some time to gain some of his energy back and oxygen through his body.” “Wait…wait…” King pauses, “Zyon is using…a rest hold?” “Well…to a lesser extent…yes.” Zyon wrenches on the neck, trying to keep Pretzler on the ground. But Scott is bigger and stronger than Zyon, so he is able to slowly push himself off the mat and both men end up on their feet. Pretzler pushes Zyon back into the ropes…close enough for Jay Hawke to get a blind tag! Pretzler pushes Zyon up against the ropes and whips him across the ring. Zyon runs into the ropes, bounces off, and comes flying back…running into a springboard lariat by Jay Hawke! Zyon lands on the back of his head and folds over, as Hawke gets to his feet and poses for the crowd. “Jay Hawke with a springboard lariat, ripping the head off of Zyon!” laughs King, “Just like what will happen at Genesis!” Zyon tries to get to his feet, but stumbles onto his knees. Hawke cockily walks over to his fallen opponent, slapping him across the head. Hawke laughs as Flesher looks on and Scott Pretzler lies on the apron, catching his breath. Hawke continues slapping Zyon…who pops up and throws a right hand, connecting with the jaw of the International Champion! Zyon winds back for another right hand…but Jay Hawke ends his flurry with a simple thumb to the eye! “BOOOOOOOOO!!!!” “Hawke taking a short cut to stop Zyon from gaining some momentum.” “It wasn’t really a short cut. I’m sure it took a lot of energy for him to poke Zyon in the eye! Ha!” Hawke shoves Zyon into the corner and begins unleashing several knife-edged chops to the chest! “WHOOOOOOO! WHOOOOOOO! WHOOOOOOOO! WHOOOOOOOO!” Hawke wraps his hands around the scrawny neck of Zyon, choking the oxygen out of the Unique Youth! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “A blatant choke from Jay Hawke!” The referee tries to jump in the way, calling for Hawke to release the choke. Hawke refuses, causing the referee to begin his count. ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FI—Hawke releases his choke. He backs away into the middle of the ring, hands innocently in the air, as the referee follows him to scold him on his heelish tactics. Zyon coughs in the corner, trying to get some oxygen back into his body…but Scott Pretzler, who wraps the tag rope around the neck of Zyon and begins choking him, soon stops that! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!” Tom Flesher applauds on the outside of the ring, as Hawke continues distracting the referee. Jenkins shouts from the ring apron at the referee to turn around, but when he finally does, Pretzler releases the ring rope, letting Zyon slink to the mat. “Now that is what I call double teaming!” gloats King. “That’s what I call full out, pure cheating!” “Tomato, tom-ato; Potato, po-tato.” Hawke struts into his corner and begins stomping on the chest of Zyon. Hawke tags the hand of Scott Pretzler, sending him into the ring. Hawke pulls Zyon out of the corner by his legs, leaving him lying on the mat, as Pretzler drops a leg across his throat with a leg drop! Hawke leaves the ring, leaving Scott to pull Zyon off the mat and pushing him into the ropes. He Irish whips Zyon across the ring. Zyon bounces off the ropes and comes running back straight into a high-angle dropkick, nailing him right in the jaw! Both men hit the mat, but Pretzler is back up to his feet, posing soon after. “The BEST dropkick in the business, Pete!” Zyon holds his jaw, as he rolls over onto his knees and slowly crawls towards his corner. Pretzler is quickly on top of him though, grabbing Zyon’s arm, and in a mocking manner, waving it towards Jenkins. Spike reaches for his partner, but Scott quickly pulls Zyon back into his teams’ corner. Pretzler quickly tags in Hawke. Hawke enters the ring, watching as Pretzler lifts Zyon’s arm in the air, leaving his ribs open for a swift kick by Hawke. Hawke begins stomping away on Zyon as Pretzler leaves the ring. Hawke calmly walks into the ropes, bouncing off, and coming back, dropping an elbow across the throat. Hawke covers Zyon, making sure to place his elbow over the face of his opponent for Genesis! ONE!!! TWO!! THR---NO! Zyon gets a shoulder up! Hawke looks up at the referee, surprised, but quickly goes back down to choking the life out of Zyon! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FI—Hawke lets go of his choke. “The team of Scott Pretzler and SWF International Champion, Jay Hawke, have been working on Zyon the whole match!” says Pete, “Spike Jenkins is just waiting to get into the ring!” “Too bad he won’t get the chance to get into the ring! The Gods of Wrestling are soon going to finish Zyon off!” Jay grabs Zyon by his hair, ripping at it to pull him to his feet. Dragging Zyon into his teams’ corner, he throws Zyon into the turnbuckles and throws a well place forearm to the jaw! Hawk stands around for a second; admiring the beating he is giving on the man who will challenge him for his title at Genesis. He wields back, ready to strike with another forearm… …When Zyon hits a haymaker right to the jaw, knocking Jay Hawke back! Pretzler goes to help out, but catches an elbow by Zyon! Zyon comes out of the corner, hitting Hawke with another right hand! He runs back into the corner and hits another back elbow to Pretzler. Hawke charges at Zyon with both hands rose in the air with a double axe handle…but Zyon hits another right hand, knocking Zyon back. Zyon charges out of the corner, running at full speed towards his corner…but Hawke gets in his way! Zyon leaps into the air, trying to jump over Jay…but Jay catches him around the waist and drives him into the corner! “Zyon was SO close to getting the tag…yet…so far!” laughs King. Hawke whips out several kicks to the midsection, leaving Zyon stunned in the corner. Hawke tags in Pretzler, who hops into the ring and gives Zyon a few more kicks to the gut. Grabbing Zyon by the hair, Scott pulls him out of the corner and whips him over with a snap mare and locking in a chin lock. “With Zyon being choked out most of this match, Pretzler locks in a chin lock to keep him down on the ground and wearing him out.” After several seconds, Zyon begins flailing his arms, holding them out towards Jenkins for the tag. He turns to his side, forcing Scott up with him as they both get to their feet. Zyon holds his hand out for Spike, who stands on the ring apron, holding the tag rope and reaching in for the tag. Zyon throws a back elbow into the rib cage of Pretzler…and a second…and a third! Zyon pushes Pretzler back, freeing him from the hold. Zyon reaches for Jenkins, ready to make the tag… …But Scott Pretzler grabs him by the hair and whips him down to the mat! “LET’S GO ZYON! LET’S GO ZYON!” Pretzler walks over to his corner and tags in “The Critic.” “And Scott Pretzler gets tagged back in,” starts Pete, “I must admit, Hawke and Pretzler are working this tag match great. Quick tags and keeping Zyon in their corner.” Pretzler enters the ring, and him and Hawke both walk over to the downed Zyon. Hawke grabs Zyon by the hair and pulls him to his feet, locking him in a front face lock. Pretzler also locks Zyon in a front face lock, and both men underhook Zyon’s arms. They both lift the cruiserweight into the air and DRIVE him into the mat with a double butterfly suplex! Hawke simply rolls out of the ring as Pretzler makes the cover. ONE!!!! TWO!!!! “It’s all over,” says King. THREE------NO! Spike Jenkins breaks up the count by pulling Pretzler off of Zyon! Jenkins quickly gets back to the ring apron, holding his hand out for Zyon. “A close call there for Zyon and Jenkins,” notes Pete, “So far in this match, Spike has barely been in the ring.” Pretzler gets to his feet, arguing with the referee that Jenkins shouldn’t have done that and somehow “pulled my hair!” Pretzler goes towards Jenkins and spits in his face! “OH! Insulted!” Jenkins quickly jumps through the ropes and charges at Pretzler…but is stopped by the referee. Jay Hawke quickly enters the ring and begins stomping on Zyon, with Pretzler following right behind him. Spike argues with the referee to turn around, but not before he exits the ring. Spike goes to leave the ring to go back to the apron, just as Pretzler steps out of the ring, slapping his hands together. The referee turns around, going over to the Gods of Professional Wrestling’s corner and questioning if a tag was made, but is ignored as Hawke throws Zyon into the corner. “A tag wasn’t made!” “Sure there was. You just missed it. I’m sure you heard it, though.” “The oldest trick in the tag team wrestling book…” Hawke wields back and knife-edge chops Zyon! “WHOOOOOOO!” Hawke tags in Pretzler, as Tom Flesher stands outside the ring applauding. “Another tag by Hawke and Pretzler!” Pretzler enters the ring…receiving a right hand by Zyon that knocks him backwards. Zyon aims at Hawke and connects with a haymaker! And another right hand for Pretzler! And another for Hawke! And another for Pretzler! And another for Hawke! Both Jay and Scott stumble back into the center of the ring, as Zyon charges out of their corner. Hawke goes for a clothesline…but Zyon ducks! Pretzler goes for a clothesline…but Zyon rolls underneath! ZYON GETS TO HIS CORNER! ZYON TAGS IN SPIKE JENKINS!!! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!” “Zyon finally makes the tag to Jenkins!” Spike jumps into the ring and hits Pretzler with a right hand that knocks him to the mat! He turns and hits Hawke with a right hand that knocks him to the mat! Pretzler is back on his feet, but gets knocked right back down with another right hand! Hawke makes it back to his feet, but Spike pushes him back into the ropes and Irish whips him…except Hawke reverses it and sends Spike into the ropes. Pretzler gets back to his feet by Hawke and both men lock hands, looking for a double clothesline on the returning Jenkins…who ducks underneath! Spike continues into the ropes, bounces off, and charges at Hawke and Pretzler who turn around to face him…and Spike knocks them both to the mat with a double front dropkick! “Double dropkick that knocks both Jay Hawke and Scott Pretzler to the mat!” Both Hawke and Scott roll away as Spike kips up to his feet! He lets out a victorious shout as he looks on as Hawke climbs to his feet. The International Champion slowly turns around… …Into a superkick that knocks him straight out of the ring! “Last Dance superkick to Jay Hawke!” Spike shakes his fist as the crowd is fully behind him at this point. He watches as Hawke rolls out of the ring…giving Pretzler the opportunity to hit him with a knee to the lower back. Spike falls to one knee, as Pretzler pulls him up to a standing position and locking in a reverse front face lock. He points at Flesher and signals for the Tilde Bang~! “If he hits this, it is ALL over!” says King. Scott grabs Spike by the waist of his shorts and pulls him into the air for a reverse brainbuster…and when Spike is fully horizontal in the air…Pretzler sits out AND DRIVES SPIKE HEAD FIRST INTO THE MAT WITH THE TILDE BANG~!~!~!~!~!~! “TILDE BANG~! IT’S ALL OVER!” shouts King. Tom Flesher holds his arms in the air in victory as Scott Pretzler turns Spike over onto his back for the cover. Zyon crawls into the ring to stop the count…but Jay Hawke grabs him by the ankle, refusing to let him go! ONE!!!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!!! THREE!!!!!!!!!!! OMGNOSPIKEKICKEDOUTOFTHETILDEBANG~~~~~~~~!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!” “I DON’T BELIVE IT, PETE!” cries King, “I just don’t believe it!” Scott Pretzler immediately jumps to his feet and starts screaming in the face of the official. Spike rolls out underneath the bottom rope and onto the apron as he clutches his neck in pain. Zyon breaks loose of Hawke, but Hawke follows quickly behind it. Zyon gets to his feet just as Hawke climbs to his feet. Zyon hits Jay with a quick kick to the gut. He leans back, ready to continue striking…but Scott Pretzler nails him from behind with a forearm. Zyon drops to his knees, giving Hawke enough time to recuperate and the Gods of Professional Wrestling to figure out their next attack. Hawke steps out onto the ring apron and climbs up to the top rope, as Pretzler pulls Zyon up to his feet, and lifting him up, electric-chair style. “It’s all over after this!” shouts King. Hawke stands on the top rope and without much hesitation, leaps off towards Zyon… …WHO CATCHES HAWKE WITH A POWERSLAM OFF OF SCOTT PRETZLERS SHOULDERS!!!!!!!! “HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!” “Zyon countered the Doomsday Device with a powerslam to Hawke nearly ten feet in the air!” Zyon covers Hawke, as Jenkins slides into the ring and knocks Pretzler to the ground with a running forearm! ONE!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!! THREE!!!!!!!!!! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!! JAY HAWKE KICKS OUT!!!!!!! “Yes!” cries King! “It looks like Tom Flesher is praying over there.” Spike walks over to his teammate, pulling Zyon up to his feet. He points towards the corner and shouts, “FINAL FLASH!” Zyon stumbles over to the corner, stepping out onto the ring apron and begins to climb to the top rope. Spike grabs one of Jay Hawke’s ankles and wrists and drags him into the corner Zyon is climbing. He moves out of the way, giving Zyon some room to hit his finishing maneuver. “Spike setting Jay Hawke up for Zyon’s Final Flash!” As Spike looks on at Zyon climb the ropes, he suddenly feels a sudden jerk and falls face first to the mat, as Scott Pretzler slides into the ring after tripping the Hollywood Superstar. Pretzler charges into the corner Zyon is in, tripping him on the top rope and crotching the cruiserweight. “Scott Pretzler just BARELY saving his tag team partner from certain defeat!” Pretzler turns towards his downed partner and helps him up to his feet. They both look at each other and converse for a second, before they both begin to make their way up to the top rope with Zyon! “What are they planning on doing to Zyon?” wonders Pete. “Finish him off, once and for all!” They both make it to the top rope and pull Zyon up to his feet, where all three men are now perched on the top rope! Pretzler locks Zyon in a front face lock, as does Hawke! DOUBLE SUPERPLEX! “They are going for a Double Superplex to Zyon! This will defiantly finish the match!” shouts The Suicide King. They both hold onto the youngster as they prepare to take off… …But that is put to a rest as Spike Jenkins gets to his feet and trips Jay Hawke, crotching him on the top rope! Jay Hawke lets out a howl in pain, as Spike turns his attention to Scott Pretzler. Spike gets a firm grip around his leg…AND SHOVES PRETZLER OFF THE TOP ROPE TO THE FLOOR!!!! “Scott Pretzler just crashed only a few feet away from Tom Flesher!” “NO! This can’t be!” Jay Hawke holds his groin in sheer pain, as Spike pulls him off the top rope and onto the mat. Zyon repositions himself to a full stance on the top rope… …And leaps off… …Zyon graces through the air… …As he drives downward, like a vulture… …Onto the chest of Jay Hawke, driving all the air out of the SWF International Champions body! “FINAL FLASH TO JAY HAWKE!” shouts Pete. Zyon turns over, covering his opponent at Genesis for the SWF International Title… ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!! …Scott Pretzler lies motionless on the floor in front of the announcers’ table… TWO!!!!!!!!! …As Spike Jenkins stands guard, staring at Tom Flesher, with a cocky grin on his face… THREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! *Ding Ding Ding* “This can’t be…” stutters King. “Zyon has PINNED Jay Hawke! Zyon has defeated the International Champion!” “How could this have happened?” Spike pulls Zyon to his feet as both men raise their arms in the air, while the announcement is made. “Here are your winners…the team of ‘Hollywood’ Spike Jenkins ANDDDDDDDDD ZYYYYYYYYYYYONNNNNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” The Cedar Point Amusement Park bursts in cheers as Jenkins and Zyon pose around the ring. “Great! Now what’s next? Are Zyon and Spike going to challenge for the tag team titles?” asks King. “Well, Wild and Dangerous ARE the Tag Team Champions…” “Wait…” King says slowly, as if piecing it all together, “You’re not saying…that Spike meant for this to happen…so he can get a title shot at Johnny, are you?” “Knowing Spike, anything is possible.” “But why would Spike want the tag team titles so badly?” “I don’t think it’s the tag team titles he wants…” “…Oh no…you don’t mean…The World Heavyweight Title?” And with that, SWF Storm comes to an end, with Tom Flesher staring a hole straight through Jenkins, who stands in the middle of the ring, celebrating with Zyon. “If he gets a tag title match with Zyon against Wild and Dangerous…and beats Johnny…that would make him…” King trails off… “The Number One Contender to the SWF World Heavyweight Title.” “Tom Flesher will do ANYTHING to stop that from happening!” And as of right now, Tom Flesher WILL do anything to stop that from happening. ===== SWF Storm, August 19, 2005. © Riot Act Productions. All rights reserved. The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation: "Raising Workrate by Typing Faster."

Earlier today... "... I have to find Cyclone Comet! We must engage him in combat, Heff!" The Crimson Skull and his evil personal assistant Heff sit in one of the many makeshift locker rooms that have been set up around the Cedar Point Amusement Park, this weeks site for SWF Storm! Okay... it's not so much a locker room... it's more the back of a van. A van being shared by Heff and Skull... and two referees. "Would you mind giving us some privacy?!" Skull yells at the two referees. Sexton Hardcastle and Ced Ordonez both stand up, pick up there card game and exit through the back of the van, muttering about how they're mistreated. "As I was saying, we must find a way to destroy Cyclone Comet! What should be our first mode of attack?" "Hmphf..." Heff doesn't even look away from the program blaring on his miniature TV and DVD combo set. Oh, the wonders of technology "I've got it! We should hit him at his home! We'll build a tactical laser out of parts that we find laying about just any thrift store or salvage yard including a toaster oven and three hubcaps! We'll need to acquire the shorts from one of the members of the Dance Squad, as well. I'll leave that to you, Heff... you sly dog." "Hmphf..." "We'll be able to attach it to the roof of this van as a stabilizer! All we'll need is a compacitator... drat! We'll have to go to a specialty store, and that could cost us a pretty penny... but the gain is too great to worry over money! But wait... I don't know where he lives. And it's after 5:00, so the library will be closed and we wont be able to look it up in public records. Damn!" The Crimson Skull plops backwards into a chair, shaking the van under the force of his weight. A bong rolls out from under the couch, but he quickly kicks it back under the chair unassumingly before resting his chin between the palms of his hands. "This Comet is quite the cookie to crack. Is that the correct phrase?" "Hmphf..." "No matter! What's your thoughts Heff? Heff?! HEFF!" "What? Can't you see I'm busy here?" Heff snaps back. "What are you so busy with? What's on your screen there?" Crimson says, grabbing the device away from his associate. "This is the SWF... how old is this?" "It's the 'Best of SWF, 2004' DVD. I was just watching it." "Wait... that's Cyclone Comet! Who is this man beside him?" "That? Oh... that's Bobby Riley. They were announcing partners..." Heff gets cut off. "Partners you say?! So this 'Bobby Riley' is the key to finding Comet! Heff, you genius!" "But they..." "All we have to do is find this man and Cyclone Comet will be soon to come!" The Crimson Skull cuts him off again. "Now do you have any idea where we can find him?" "I heard he was given an office job after his tenure as an announcer was up... but..." "An office job?! That means he might be here tonight! Come, Heff, we will find this man, or else my name isn't... THE CRIMSON SKULL!!!!!" He yells, before jumping out of the van and taking off running towards the main building for SWF activities while at the park. Heff sits behind in the van for a second. "... but they hate each other..." To Be... Continued...

"Welcome back fans! Longdogger Pete and the K-I-N-G here, just as ready as you are for more action on SWF Storm. Up next, we've got-" Without warning, the sounds of Mos Def's "Oh No" blare over the speakers, putting our commentators in shock and the fans that have flocked to the Cedar Point Amusement Park into a frenzy! "Cortez? Coming out here?" "This is different." comments Suicide King. "If this kid talked any less, he'd be better off as a mime." Cortez, clad in baggy jeans and a black polo shirt (a far cry from his normal ring gear), rolls into the ring and approaches a stunned Funyon, requesting the microphone from the famed announcer. Cortez pauses and scans the crowd as he allows his music to fade, but his window to begin talking closes quickly, as the crowd starts chanting for the popular superstar. "COR-TEZ!" "COR-TEZ!" "COR-TEZ!" Flattered, Cortez nods his head to his supporters, then puts his hand up, signalling for them to quiet down. "People, I appreciate the cheers, and I appreciate all your support, but I ask that you allow me this time. I'm not a guy who likes to talk much, I'd much rather vent my frustrations in the ring, but there is something...more importatnly, someONE, who I cannot get out of my head lately, and I think you all know who I'm talking about." The crowd murmurs, and some fans even start booing, knowing whom Cortez is referring to. "Landon, Landon, Landon. You know, it didn't have to be like this. This was a family matter, a Martial Law problem that could have been solved behind closed doors, but you've taken it public. You've made it personal. You are exploiting my personal life to draw me out, and to that, I say congratulations, it's worked. However, I don't think that's a good thing for you." Cortez pauses, giving the crowd a few seconds to holler out in support, but then continues. "I don't like to open up to many people. I'll be the first one to tell you that I've got major trust issues due to unfortunate past events. While others pride themselves on their verbal ability, I rely on my natural ability. I suppose the reason Hollywood Boulevard, and even Martial Law worked out so well was because my partners and I got our points across in different ways. I mean, when could ANYONE should Mike up?" Another pause. The crowd chuckles. "But I'm not out here to reflect. I'm out here to set things straight. Landon, you are a jealous man. Jealous that a girl who stood by your side offered her heart to another man. Jealous, because you didn't want to share her with anyone. You wanted her all to yourself. You wanted to control her emotion, not realizing that toying with someone's heart is a crime of the greatest nature. Your ego consumed you so much that you destroyed Martial Law over it, something which you had begun to turn into a showcase for yourself rather than have it be what it was intended to be. It was your ego and your pride and your cocky swagger that you thought would land you the girl, but ultimately drove her into my arms, and you couldn't handle it when it was revealed that this woman couldn't, didn't, and wouldn't love you back. It ate you inside when the truth was told to you, so much that it made you consider hurting her physically as well as mentally. You could never handle the fact that someone might be better than you at anything, and the fact that her heart didn't belong to you was the straw that broke the camel's back. I kept it buried, I kept quiet...I did so much, Landon, out of whatever respect I had left for you to try and do this in a civil fashion, but YOU made this a vendetta. Well, now the cards are on the table, Landon. Now everyone knows. I sucked it up for so long, for Megan's sake, for everyone's sake, but after Casino Brawl, and after jumping me during a match like the coward you are, I've had it. The fuse has been lit, Landon, and it's slowly burning away. There is no way I'll let you ruin my personal life or my career because of simple bitterness. If you want to be a man about things, if you have something to say to me, why don't you do it face to face, Maddix? I'll tell you why...because underneath that brash exterior, underneath the smirks and smiles and staring at yourself in the mirror, is an insecure human being, afraid that his career has hit it's peak, and afraid that he's turned everyone away from being his friend, or in the case of Megan, more than that. I..." "Whoa now, what is this? The streetfighting shrink? C'mon now, Todd, are you for real?" The attention turns to the Smarktron, and the crowd begins catcalling upon the sight of Landon Maddix on the screen. "You can't be serious. YOU are going to tell ME, Landon Maddix, how I feel? That I have issues? Todd, isn't that the pot calling the kettle black? I'm getting evaluated by the biggest user in SWF history, and you stupid people are eating it up along with those Dippin' Dots and candy apples!" The crowd continues booing, while Cortez remains silent, being somewhat courteous of his rival's talk-time. "Todd, let's face it, the only person you think about is yourself. You pride yourself on being Mr. Loyalty, but look at the facts. Hollywood Boulevard WAS a great team. Key word: WAS. Then after Mike got put out of the company, what did you do? You knew you couldn't make it on your own, so you leeched off the success you had, and devoted your career to "righting wrongs" and taking out Toxxic, like you're some type of avenging angel. Then we get Martial Law together, and I'm STILL trying to figure out how you got me to buddy up with you and Alan Clark, but for a while, it worked...until you came to the realization that I, Landon Maddix, was the cornerstone of that group and you were the weak link. YOU are the one responsible for finishing off Martial Law, Todd, and you stole Megan from me as a final slap in the face, because YOU'RE THE JEALOUS ONE! That's right, I said it, and you heard it. You're jealous of Landon Maddix. What have you ever done, huh? USJL Champion? Whooopeee! Hardcore Champion? Yep, takes a lot of skill to jab people in the eye with shrapnel, or send them flying through glass. PS-Kids, don't try that at home, we're trained professionals." "LANDON!" screams Todd into the mic, shocking the fans with the raised tone in his voice. "When I said "face to face", I meant it literally. Not you on a video wall, talking to Jim the cameraman from wherever you are." "Well, Todd, see, I can't do anything about that right now. See, I'm not anywhere near you. I'm not even in Pennsylvania! No, see, I figured you needed a cooling off period, Todd. You're a hothead, and for me to be within striking distance of you is suicide. I'm not an idiot. I'll get you face to face, oh will I ever, but we're doing it on MY terms, not yours. You got your way by getting Megan, now as much as it pains me, I'm giving you a break while I take a breather. Old Landon is headed home for a holiday, and it was OK'd by the corporate offices, so there's no bitching that'll change it." Cortez clenches the mic so tightly it's a surprise it doesn't burst in his hand. He scowls up at the Smarktron, while Maddix peers into the camera gleefully. "Sucks when you can't get what you want, doesn't it, Todd? Now, maybe you'll understand where I'm coming from...and how bad things are going to get for you. See, I'm going to be taking a break from your grandstand challenges and idle threats, but you, haha...you can't shake me. I'm gonna be there in spirit old friend. I'm going to eat you alive, and by the time I get back, you'll be right where I want you. A broken down, mentally exhausted never-was, easy prey for a superstar like me. Enjoy your breather, Todd, because it's not lasting for long." With those ominous words, the Smarktron goes black, and Cortez throws the mic down hard, shattering it into several pieces that bounce off the canvas! Cortez then storms out of the ring and to the back with no music, no nothing, while fans lean over the railing, attempting to touch the popular superstar. Within moments, Cortez has disappeared from camera view, and the picture fades out, taking us to another commercial break.

Ward vs. Walters to be edited in ASAP.

The opening ceremonies of SWF Storm have finally died down, leaving the crowd to murmur excitedly amongst themselves. The fans anxiously await the evening’s first segment... “HEY HEY!” “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!” ...and are severely disappointed when Atake FDD’s “Tu Final” hits the speakers as red, white, and green pyro explodes upwards from the stage, signaling the entrance of El Luchadore Magnifico. The man himself bursts out from behind the pyro-induced smoke, his Mexican Flag flapping gracefully behind him as he stride purposefully down the entrance ramp. He’s surrounded on all sides by booing, cursing fans, but he pays them no mind. “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome EL LUCHADOOOOOOOOOOOOORE MAGNIFICOOOOOOOOOO!!” Funyon implores. The crowd will do nothing of the sort, and only grow louder in their booing as Magnifico rolls into the ring. He pops to his feet, sets his flag up in a corner, and then strides to the other side of the ring, where an intern is waiting with a microphone. ELM snatches it out of the poor fellow’s hand as the amusement park patrons simultaneously roll their eyes, annoyed that they have to listen to Magnifico. “A fine start to this edition of Storm.” King boldly declares. “El Luchadore Magnifico, the man on the receiving end of a underhanded, devious attack from Danny Williams, joins us to share his feelings on that topic and, I’m sure, many others.” LDP stares at King with unbridled contempt for a second before responding. “You realize that Magnifico started this whole mess by attacking Danny a couple weeks ago, right?” “Psh.” King waves his hand dismissively. “If Danny hadn’t been such a pussy about Magnifico’s request for a match, that never would have happened. ELM was just being persuasive, is all.” The screams coming from such fine rides as the Millenium Force and Top Thrill Dragster resonate clearly as ELM stands in the center of the ring, looking surprisingly calm and collected. Finally, he speaks, smiling softly as he does so. “I’m sure all of you expect me to be pissed off, right?” Magnifico asks, receiving a few cheers in response. “After all, Danny came out of nowhere on Smarkdown and, without provocation, nailed me with an Axe Bomber.” ELM gets a lot more cheers for that. “But I couldn’t be happier.” Magnifico continues, his smile widening. “Because it shows me that you’re slowly but surely dropping the facade.” “To be honest, I have no problem with Danny as a competitor.” ELM explains as he begins to pace slowly around the ring. “He’s a former World Champion and has always been a threat to regain the title. What annoys me is how he shamelessly panders to you sons of bitches.” Boos pour in from every part of the crowd as mothers cover the ears of their crying children. Magnifico observes the reaction and grins happily before continuing. “Every goddamn time he comes out here, you assholes cheer, and he revels in it.” ELM expands. “If you were to ever stop cheering him, he’d drop to his knees and beg for your approval. It absolutely sickens me.” Another wave of boos, but Magnifico just talks over them. “But I can see that ending very soon.” ELM continues, grinning broadly. “When you attacked me at the end of Smarkdown, Danny, it was an underhanded, sneaky, devious act. It was everything these people hate.” “I’m getting to you.” Magnifico leans over the ropes and looks into the camera, as if speaking directly to Danny. “You’ll do anything to get to me, won’t you? You’ll attack me in the middle of a match, when I’m unable to defend myself. I bet you’d even take a steel chair and beat me half to death with it if it meant I’d leave you alone.” “Your fans would hate what you’ve become. They’d hate how you’d stoop to my level just to take me out. And you wouldn’t care.” ELM smiles. “That makes me so happy.” The fans are just plain angry at this point, and let Magnifico now as he steps back into the center of the ring and looks calmly over the furious sea of humanity. “Very well said!” King announces, applauding. “ELM is completely right.” “That’s ridiculous.” LDP scoffs. “Danny’s had countless enemies over the years. What makes Magnifico think he can drive Williams over the edge in a couple weeks.” “Hey, I’m the expert here in fighting with Magnifico.” King contends. “The man is infuriating to say the least.” “Just imagine how good you’d be if you stopped pandering to them, Danny!” Magnifico cries. “You would-“ ELM’s cut off by the opening strains of In Flames’ “Jester’s Dance”, which immediately draws a resounding wave of cheers from the grateful crowd. A second later, the familiar chant begins to emanate from the audience... “DAN-E! DAN-E! DAN-E!” A second later, the man himself strides out from behind the curtains, just in time for the heroic power chords to compliment his entrance. The cheering and chanting only grows louder as Danny makes his way down the ramp, clutching a microphone in his hand. Williams stares coldly at Magnifico as he approaches the ring, and ELM returns the glare with a warm, welcoming smile. “Hmph. Ruffian.” King snorts. “Williams is just here to cause trouble.” “Well, yeah.” Pete replies, shrugging. Danny climbs up onto the apron before vaulting himself into the ring, drawing a few more cheers from the crowd as he does so. Not wasting a second, Williams immediately walks up to Magnifico and gets in his face. “You don’t have a goddamn clue what you’re talking about.” Danny snaps. “These people are not what’s holding me back. The fans are the thing that energizes me, that keeps me going every day. They’re as responsible for my success as I am.” The crowd releases a mighty pop upon hearing this, but Magnifico just smiles shakes his head condescendingly. “That’s exactly what I used to think, too.” Magnifico counters, speaking like a parent imparting wisdom to their child. “I used to believe that without the fans, I wouldn’t be nearly as successful. That their support was essential.” “But I was wrong.” ELM drives his point home. “These people hate me, and I’m stronger than ever. When they were on my side, I couldn’t buy a win. I barely beat Wildchild the first time I faced him and lost to him in pathetic fashion the second time. When they turned on me, I became a new man. I started fighting for myself and no one else. I beat Wildchild. I embarassed him. I’m the best I’ve ever been, and as long as you continue to pander to the fans, I’m better than YOU.” Magnifico stares at Danny after his tirade, having lost some of his calm during the monologue. Williams seems to consider what ELM says for a moment before continuing. “Believe me, Magnifico.” Danny starts, “There is nothing I’d like more than beat the living hell out of you right now, in this very ring.” As expected, the fans cheer happily for that one. ELM just smiles as Danny continues. “But now I see that you need to be taught a lesson.” Williams continues, scowling. “You need to be shown that my weakness is NOT my love of the fans, and that yours is your infuriating overconfidence.” Danny takes a step towards Magnifico, his nose nearly touching the luchadore’s. “See you in the ring, asshole.” ELM's smile widens, but he doesn't break the stare between the two men. All around them, people cheer, anxious to see these two compete in the ring. “Well, there you have it.” LDP announces, “Danny finally accepts Magnifico’s challenge in what should be a fantastic match. We’ll be right back with more SWF Storm, after this.”

SWF STORM, FRIDAY, AUGUST 19TH, 2005, LIVE FROM THE CEDAR POINT AMUSEMENT PARK IN CEDAR POINT, OHIO! (8:00 PM EST; 5:00 PM PST. Check local listings) A ring will be set up in the middle of the entrance to Cedar Point Amusement Park, where SWF Storm stops for a visit! Children will vomit up their cotton candy as they see the bloodloss! Parents will sue when they hear the cursing! And if we have enough money, we might pay someone to get naked! MAIN EVENT TAG TEAM MATCH Zyon and "Hollywood" Spike Jenkins v. Jay Hawke and "The Critic" Scott Pretzler (with Tom Flesher) -> Tom Flesher and Joseph Peters have never quite seen eye to eye, but the two have struck a deal of sorts. Flesher has gotten Peters to lift the hardcore stipulations for this match, a straight-up tag between the Gods of Professional Wrestling and... uh, Spike and Zyon. Flesher is obviously hoping that the adjusted rules and his presence will favour Pretzler and Hawke... but will they? Only time will tell. Rules: Standard tag shit with those tag ropes and the like. HOUSE RULES: ROLLERCOASTER OF LOVE MATCH SWF HARDCORE CHAMPIONSHIP Marcus Ward (SWF Hardcore Champion) v. Devon Walters -> Walters emerged victorious on Smarkdown, and so CC thought it would be funny to stick him in a match for the Hardcore championship against the same guy he so handily beat. Only, with a twist. Rules: The first man to throw their opponent into the seat of any of Cedar Point's numerous rollercoasters will win. Also Appearing: El Luchadore Magnifico will open the show by addressing the melee on Smarkdown, among other things! Johnny Dangerous will be in attendance! Todd Cortez, Landon Maddix... all on STORM!

Makai Kingdom can pretty much be summed up as "more of the same". It's not so painfully serious as Phantom Brave, but it's not as wacky as Disgaea. That may be because the story, so far, is really thin - I'm halfway through, and there's very little going on. The voice acting and writing are wonderful, though. Easily the best English dub NIS has ever used, and there are some real comic gems in the dialogue. The battle system, as you've probably heard, is Phantom Brave's movement and confine system mixed with Disgaea's overall sensibilities, with facilities and vehicles thrown in. Like I said, more of the same - if you liked their past games, you should like this, but it's not an Earth shattering OMG game like Disgaea was.

Still level 5, but adventuring in the Bat Hole is raising my stats pretty quickly. I make a decent amount of meat down there in 40 adventures, which in turn I spend either on food for more adventures, or moxie weeds and strength elixirs for even more stat boosts. Also just got a KFC Crossbow, with a power of 80 and a +5 Moxie bonus. \m/ \m/

'drea, where can I find recipes for Meatsmithing and EZ-Baking?

Anyone know where to get equipment that's better than Power 30? My stuff just ain't cuttin' it any more, but the market doesn't have anything useful.

I am Caveman Chris, the Beat Snatcher.

I'm still level 5 as well. Spending all my meats on Moxie Weeds, though, to try and boost my way up. Drea - have you killed the Boss Bat yet? If so, where the hell did you find him? I've been adventuring in the Bat Hole for days now, haven't seen him.

I can rename the file itself outside of Winamp, but not the tag (which is what appears on my Winamp playlist). As far as I know, the only way to change the title/artist of a song in Winamp is through Winamp.

So I just downloaded the Makai Kingdom soundtrack, and when I opened all the songs to my Winamp playlist, the artist varies from song to song. I'd like to have them all under one artist name so I can group them together, and I know how to do that, but this time Winamp's not letting me. I right click on the song (in Winamp), click "View File Info", then try to change the artist's name. It gives me this message: Cannot insert ID3v2 tag! Stop playback to unlock file and try again! Normally when I get this message, I just have to stop whatever music is playing or close and re-open Winamp, and then I can rename the files just fine. For these, though, no amount of stopping, closing, reopening, or anything will get this damn error message to go away. Anyone got any ideas on how to fix this?

So how do we go about starting a clan? Do we need a minimum number of people?

The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation presents... SWF FAMILY FRIENDLY LOCKDOWN! LIVE, WEDNESDAY AUGUST 10th, FROM THE HERSHEYPARK ARENA IN HERSHEY, PENNSYLVANIA! (5PM PST, 8PM EST; check local listings) Send all materials (marked matches, promos, hershey kisses, etc.) to Ace309. As of 8/5/05, all SWF wrestlers have been given a copy of the following memo, entitled Family Friendly Lockdown Rules: So, tune in Wednesday night for some explosive action- Huh? ... what do you mean I can't say explosive? ... Jeez... ok, fine... Tune in Wednesday Night for some fun-tastic action on Lockdown! What? No... no, I am NOT putting the- ... FINE. "Tune in Wednesday Night for some fun-tastic action on L ckd wn!" I'm going to go jump off a bridge now. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- The Main Event Ejiro Fasaki vs. Landon "La Cucaracha" Maddix --> Oh. Hell. YES. Maddix vs. Cortez has been signed for Genesis. \m/ \m/ In the mean time, Landon Maddix revealed on Storm that his eyes were on a larger prize - the SWF World Heavyweight Championship. Since Landon and Todd have to be kept apart for a while, we decided to give Landon a taste of what he's after - tonight he goes up against very-recent World Champion, Ejiro Fasaki! If he manages to put Rule away, his arguments for a title shot might hold a little more sway. Then again, Ejiro's no pushover, and I'm sure he's itching to get back into the game. The question is: who wants it more? Rules: Standard singles match. Word Limit: 6000 Send to: Ace309 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Ghost Machine vs. "The Dean of Professional Wrestling" Jay Hawke © - SWF International Championship Match --> The reports are in - kids love Ghost Machine. Underneath his cold maybe-robot exterior is an icon that millions of children ages 5-10 have come to adore. We'd be crazy to keep him off this show. More importantly, when Manson was all set up for a shot at Jay Hawke's International Championship, Ghost Machine scored an upset win over him! Ghosty was out of town for the PPV, but now he's back, and ready to cash in his shot against the Dean of Professional Wrestling! Rules: Standard singles match. Word Limit: 5500 Send to: Justice -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Wildchild vs. Nick "The Hitlist" Blum --> So Blum fell a little short in the Hardcore division, but hey - maybe that's just not his style. He's got more than a smattering of Cruiserweight background - let's see if he fares any better in that arena. Tonight, "The Hitlist" goes one on one with one of the SWF's most acclaimed Cruiserweights, Wildchild! Will we see an amazing upset (something our rookies seem more and more capable of)? Rules: Standard, with Cruiserweight addendum - no throwing your opponent over the top rope, outside count goes to 20. Word Count: 5000 Send to: janusd -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- JJ Johnson vs. "Hollywood" Spike Jenkins --> The mysterious Ground Zero match that never was - actually, it's not so mysterious, Spike just got a touch of the flu. After a false start that almost required us to refund all of our PPV buys for false advertising, these two are ready to go! Rules: Standard singles match. Word Limit: 5000 Send to: chirs3 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Zyon vs. Marcus Ward © (non title match) --> Both of these guys are awesome. Zyon is awesome because he rocked the Hardcore division from day one, and has allowed me to come up with the phrase "pulling a Zyon", which is when a newbie wows everyone with their awesomeness. Marcus Ward is awesome because he pulled a Zyon. Zyon has expressed a wish to move up in the world, so this bout will be non-title - just a chance for these two proven hardcore warriors to showcase their other skills. Rules: Standard singles match. Word Limit: 4500 Send to: TheSuperstar -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Devon Walters vs. "Big Country" Martin Hunt --> The SWF's newest asset is Devon Walters, a monster of a man with a knack for giving people what they deserve. In his SWF debut, he goes up against perennial JTTS, Martin Hunt. Rules: Standard singles match. Word Limit: 4000 Send to: Ace309 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Opening Promo: Pretzel-man. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Once again, my apologies to the unbooked. Your wookies are in the mail. Apologies also for the lack o' polish in the descriptions - thought I had more time to tweak, but somethings come up.

Todd Cortez can be seen, alone, sitting on a loading dock at the outside of the Garden, staring off into the city-lit sky. He sighs to himself and rubs at his bandages and his eyes, that still burn just as much now as they did days ago. He kicks his feet in the air as, from behind, two giant visages appear from the shadows. ”Mr. Cortez?” Todd turns around, only to find the Walters brothers staring down at him. Devon hops down from the dock and lands on the pavement, leaning up against the concrete next to where Todd has been sitting. Matthew jumps down as well, only to catch himself on the dock a few feet from Cortez. The trio sit there for a moment as Todd looks back and forth between the men. ”Can I help you guys?” “We saw what you did at Ground Zero, Mr. Cortez.” Matthew answers, “And it seems to be that even though your heart was in the right place, you have Mr. Maddix to thank in the end.” “WHAT?!” “If it wasn’t for him, and Mr. Royal before him, you never would have even come into contact with Ms. Skye. You two became friends to help destroy a greater force, and you found something there that you didn’t expect. If you want to call it fate, then so be it, but Mr. Maddix helped you get to where you are right now inside that head and heart of yours. I don’t really know all the details, Mr. Cortez, and I do feel bad for any ill will this fighting has brought to you or to her, but whether you like it or not, this is Ms. Skye’s fault.” “WHAT?!” Cortez repeats, double-taking. “She was the one that came into this with Mr. Royal in the first place. She was the one that stuck around when he became injured. She stayed with Mr. Maddix, and then you came along. Sure, she had no idea that things would turn out the way they did, but…she was here long before you were, Mr. Cortez. You may have held a few titles and battled the best, but long before you were the Urban Legend around here, she was the Toddess. Whether she fell for you or you fell for her first isn’t the issue, it’s the fact that had she not followed Mr. Royal into the spotlight, she would just be another pretty face behind a cash register, or just another secretary. She came into this with expectations of fame with the House of Todd…and she ended up falling for a whole different one. The question you need to ask yourself now, Mr. Cortez…is what are you going to do to make sure that Ms. Skye knows that this Todd….” Matthew points at Cortez, “isn’t going to leave her hanging with someone like Mr. Maddix when he decides it’s his time to ride off into the sunset.” Todd Cortez seems to be in deep concentration, and his eyes move to Devon next to him. The big man smiles and nods his head, the two seem to communicate in the silence. “There is no chance in….” “Good, Mr. Cortez…” Matthew cuts him off, “You need to find the balance between doing things to help her, and doing things to spite Mr. Maddix. Right now, I know you have feelings for Ms. Skye, and I hope in the end you do what’s right for her, instead of what is wrong for Mr. Maddix. Find that balance, and he’ll get what is coming to him. That is karma…plain and simple…whether you like it or not.” With those words, Matthew hops down onto the pavement and walks off screen. Devon simply nods and follows his older brother, leaving Cortez there, stunned in silence. ===== SWF Storm, August 5th, 2005 © Riot Act Productions. All rights reserved. The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation: "Raising Workrate by Typing Faster."

With Madison Square Garden always an electrifying choice for an SWF show, especially after such a hugely successful pay-per-view event, Ben Hardy has finally gotten away from his duties of interviewing the stars, as he walks through the parking garage of the Garden, humming to himself, eating a ham sandwich, and just generally be jaunty. “Hello! What is this?!” Ben blurts out, causing some bits of sandwich to fall from his mouth to the ground, where a single, crisp, brand spanking new one dollar bill happens to be lying. Ben quickly wipes his face and begins rotating his head in every direction, even to the ceiling, and making sure the coast is clear. Satisfied, Hardy reaches down and swipes the bill from the floor and stuffs it into his pocket, a smile forming on his bread-encrusted jowls. He continues whistling and heads around the side of a production truck, until to bump into a rather large individual in a suit. The man stares down at Ben and runs his right hand through his short blond hair. Cold blue eyes cause the plump interviewer to swallow hard, and he stutters… ”W-w-who are you?” The man adjusts his tie. “My name is Matthew Walters, Mr. Hardy. And I was watching you.” Ben swallows again, something he is indeed used to doing. “Don’t you know about karma, Mr. Hardy? How one tiny action like you picking that one dollar bill…” Matthew reaches into Ben’s pocket and pulls it out slowly. Ben doesn’t move. “…can lead to catastrophic consequences. That might have been a small child’s milk money…” “In Madison Square…” “…or it could have been a winning lottery ticket, Mr. Hardy. It could have been someone’s chance at financial freedom and success. It could have been a savings account for a newborn, or a rent payment, anything. It could have been anything, and now….it is simply a napkin.” Ben pauses and looks at the bill, which has gotten somewhat crumbly from the interviewer’s eating habits. “Sorry?” Ben asks politely, and Matthew’s stare grows colder. “Sometimes, Mr. Hardy…sorry isn’t good enough. When you take it upon yourself to be greedy or self-centered, sometimes the only thing good enough is to walk ahead in your life and face what is waiting for you. Have you ever been to jail, Mr. Hardy? Have you ever looked into the faces of the accused, justly or unjustly, and seen the cries for help in their eyes? I have. I know what it’s like. Sorry isn’t good enough for them, for the people that they may have wronged. The only thing good enough is when it all comes back around to you. I’ve lived on the street. I live on the street. That is a cup of coffee on a cold morning to me, and you stand here in front of my face…eating and humming like you are some sort of king to me. I could break your neck and walk away with your sandwich, your wallet, your car keys, and your clothes, Mr. Hardy…but I won’t. Instead, I will just ask you….what would you do if you were in my place? What would you do if you were penniless and starving in an alleyway? If you were begging people for the same one dollar bill you found lying here today? What would you think when those that are more fortunate than you look down at your tattered rags and say “sorry”, Mr. Hardy…?” Matthew pauses and Ben swallows hard as he takes a step back and turns around, trying to flee, and bumps into the chest of an even larger figure…the seven foot three inch tall frame of Devon Walters. Ben backs up, caught between the two brothers. His hands twitch and his sandwich falls to the ground as Matthew walks around to his brother’s side. Both of them smile. “You will be thinking that whether you like or not…that is karma.” Ben takes a few steps back and takes off in the other direction, rounding a corner and disappearing out of sight. The only things left of the moment is bits of ham sandwich and the one dollar bill lying on the ground once more. Both brothers look down at it as Matthew picks it up, holding it gently. ”Coffee, bro?” Matthew asks, and Devon nods accordingly and the duo walks off camera as the scene fades out.

"Where the FUCK!is Marcus Ward!!!" Nick "the Hitlist" Blum is fuming in Penn Station, pacing around near the turnstile entrance to MSG upstairs. The announcers are in place, the referee is in place...but apparently there is no champion in the building. "Welcome back to Storm, fans around the world. We're all the way down here in Penn Station below MSG, the site of tonights Hardcore Title Match...but apparently Marcus Ward has decided not to show up for his scheduled title defense." Longdogger Pete explains. "Well why SHOULD he Petey! He succesfully defeated TWO opponents in a match where he couldn't even know the rules of going into it! That type of effort deserves a day off, but 5 days after his championship victory he's expected to defend his belt?...in a SUBWAY STATION!" cried King "You mean he wasn't SUPPOSED to know the rules. There were some fishy things going on at Ground Zero, and Ward has some things to answer for to Blum...and the curiously absent Zyon" retorts LP "Get the fuck out here Ward!" shouts The Hitlist, "You may have had the upper hand on sunday at Ground Zero, but I saw the tape! You had that match rigged in your favor, and used it to almost snap my spine!" Blum gestures to his taped and bandaged rib/back area from the agonizing human ladder rack he was forced to submit to at Ground Zero. "Well tonight the rules can't be manipulated, and I'm going to break your face with a Hitplant to the pavement!" Blum can be heard as he screams his ultimatum to the busy station, most passengers cutting a wide angle around NB, leaving a big open circle for his diatribe. Blum continues to swear and pace the station, slamming his fist into tile walls on several occasions. The Hitlist then begins arguing with the referee, clearly demanding some sort of decision/answer from senior official Eddy Long. "Well King, the fans are gonna be awful disappointed without this title defense tonight" King smirks, "Who knows Petey, but I know for one, Nick Blum is lucky Marcus decided not to show up, as he might not be as lucy next time he crosses paths with the Hardcore Champ!" Nick Blum continues to argue with the referee, at one point shouting rather loudly "What do you mean I don't get the title if he doesn't show up!" With all of his attention caught up in his bickering, Blum gets laid out with a vicious briefcase shot to the lower back by a passing businessman? Longdogger starts screaming, "Get security over here, some fan/businessman just laid out The Hitlist with his Briefcase, the guy with the sunglasses....wait, he just took his shades off...It's MARCUS WARD!" King cackles, "Blum isn't gonna like the way this one will probably end!" The Hardcore Champion flips his sunglasses to the ground and stares around the station cooly. Still in a snazzy double-breasted grey suit, though without a tie, he taps forefinger to temple in his now well-known taunt. Ward opens the briefcase he blasted Blum with and reveals the Hardcore Title, handing it to the referee. "Lets get this over with." His hard-edged voice echoing throughout the station as Marcus Ward begins delivering shiny-black kenneth cole dress shoe shots to the ladder-rack injured back of a helpless Nick Blum. MW drags the groaning challenger through a throng of metro-riders towards the lavatories. Pete wonders aloud, "My goodness, Marcus Ward is taking Nick Blum into the bathroom...holy shit he just took him into the LADIE'S RESTROOM?!? Can our camera follow them in there, is this even legal?" Apparently so, because the cameras show Ward shoving Blum into the distaff restroom, to the sound of several screaming women running for their lives and privacy. One in particular opens her stall to the site of The Hitlist coming right at her (having been pushed towards the occupied toilet by a crafty Marcus Ward) and screeches, reacting the only ways she knows how. WHAM! HISSSSSSSSSSSS!!! King chuckles, "Oh boy, Blum got kicked in the Plums! Then she sprayed him with mace for good measure. I bet Ward planted her, because he's always in control!!!" The Hitlist screams as he starts to rub his stinging eyes, blinded by the self-defense spray on the lady's keychain. Nick starts spinning in circles, his hands trying to find the walls or something to get his bearings. MW laughs out loud and launches a knee directly into the battered ribs of the defenseless opponent. Longdogger Pete laments, "This Marcus Ward, he's taking advantage of a blind and injured Nick Blum here. Why doesn't he just finish this man off already, it's flippin ridiculous!" Ward quickly slides behind the gasping, reeling Nick Blum and locks his arms behind his head in a full nelson. MW uses his leverage with the full nelson to push NB inside the vacated women's toilet. "Oh no King, he's gonna do what I think he's gonna do. This isn't wrestling, it's humiliation!" King snarls, "That's what you get when you call a man out, you get embarrassed!" Marcus Ward cackles as he buries The Hitlist's head in the toilet bowl, a loud clank echoing as he smashes BLum's forehead right off the ceramic. Nick starts writheing and wriggling in Marcus's full nelson, struggling to breath. Official Eddy Long comes over and warns Ward to let him go, counting to five before trying to separate the two forcibly, obviously attempting to just protect the life of Nick Blum. Marcus shakes his head and keeps the full nelson locked on, all his weight bearing down on Blum. The referee does the only thging he can think of and flushes the toilet, giving Nick Blum an "official" swirly...and time to breath. "This is terrible folks, what can Blum do, he's having himself suffocated in a toilet bowl in the lady's restroom at Penn Station. The ref is even raising his hand for the knockout submission!" comments LP The referee lifts Nick BLum's hand up for the knockout count after the flush, lifting it straight up and then letting go, watching it fall limp to his side. ONE! The water fills back up the toilet bowl even as the official lifts Blum's hand for the second count. Even with the water back up around his face, Blum doesn't move and his arm drops again, dead weight to all onlookers. TWO! Longdogger Pete moans in horror, "Did Marcus Ward KILL Nick Blum to retain his title?!?!" King laughs, "That sure would be hardcore!!!" The referee quickly lifts Nick Blum's hand for the third count, pausing just a moment at the apex before releasing, quickly readying to announce MArcus Ward the victor of this match...when Blum's hand pauses at the bottom of it's descent, wobbly but not without some sort of life! Ward snarls and starts applying pressure on the full nelson, trying to drown this rat for good. Nick flails his arms, searching for an escape, his lungs burning from the pissy water and lack of oxygen. His fingertips find the chrome handle and latch on in desperation, the self-swirly giving him just enough oxygen to realize where he is and lash out with the only move he can think of. WHAM! "Owwww, now that was a truly dirty move by that rotten Nick Blum!" King swears. Marcus Ward immediately lets go of his full-nelson and slumps to the ground, on the receiving end of a ball-busting desperation mule kick by the wet-headed Hitlist, who is also slumped to the ground gasping for some air after almost losing his match in a toilet-bowl. Longdogger Pete comments, "This match is truly the low end of The SWF. Our two competitors are now recovering from crotch shots and swirlies on the floor of a stall in the women's restroom!" Blum catches about half his breath before realizing he better take advantage of the prone ball-clutching Ward before he gets overpowered by the man again. Nick climbs up on the toilet tank and looks down at MW wondering how someone an inch shorter consistently manhandles him like a ragdoll. Nick shakes his head then leaps, performing an asai moonsault off the toilet tank right on to Marcus Ward!!! "Goodness King, I don't believe I've seen a moonsault off the toilet in quite awhile, if ever!" King grumbles, "That's ridiculous Pete, and Ward will make a comeback, this is all a part of his plan. He IS in TOTAL CONTROL!" Marcus Ward seems a bit out of control as he's dragged up by Nick Blum, and out of the stall into the main part of the women's lavatory. Blum lets Ward stand in the middle, bent over and wheezing as he climbs up onto the furthest sink in the bathroom from Marcus. "What is Nick Blum doing now, he's standing on top of the washbasin, what kind of wrestling move is performed from there!!?" Pete shouts! Blum lines up ward, who's still bent over in agony, and starts skipping from sink to sink. He quickly picks up speed as he reaches the end of the line of basins in the penn station ladys bathroom till he's almost running from one to the next then leaps off at Ward, grabbing his neck and twisting him into a leaping spinning neckbreaker onto the tile floor! The fans watching from the arena on the Smarktron start shouting so hard as if to rock MSG to it's foundation "HARDCORE! HARDCORE! HARDCORE!" Nick "The Hitlist" Blum kips up after the neckbreaker and poses for the cameras doing an arrogant little strut, knowing the whole wrestling world is cheering his name. He rolls Ward onto his back and casually presses his chest over MW's for the sure-victory cover as the referee pounds the counts on the tile. ONE! TWO! THRREEEEEEEEE... Eddy Long's hand is mere centimeters from a Nick Blum Hardcore Championship when Ward instinctively lifts his shoulder off the floor, which only serves to entice NB to push it back down for a second count. ONE! TWO! Up AGAIN! Ward gets his shoulder up after only two counts this time, causing Blum to swear furiously as he drags the champion to his feet and back over to the line of sinks. Longdogger Pete muses, "What can The Hitlist do to seal this victory away, he's already produced an amazing sink-running neckbreaker that didn't count out the champion, where will he go next!" King snarks back, "Home, probably. He can't hang with Marcus Ward." Nick Blum looks into one of the mirrors hanging on the wall above the sink of the public restroom and smiles to himself. NB grabs MW's head by the hair and rears it back... "Holy shit, he just smashed Marcus Ward's face right into the mirror!" Shards of glass spray the bathroom scene as Ward's face starts flowing with blood from the mirror-smash cuts. Blum shakes his head and goes to the next mirror down the line and repeats the process...as he starts counting the whole row of mirrors TWO! SMASH! THREE! SMASH! FOUR! SMASH! FIVE! SMASH! SIX! SMASH! SEVEN! SMASH! EIGHT! SMASH! NINE! SMASH! Nick Blum gets to the tenth window and pauses, Marcus Ward's face a bloody mess of cuts and gouges! Blum smiles and starts the fossett on the final sink on hot water, letting it run for a few moments and fill up the basin before dunking Ward's openly cut face into the scalding water. Pete shouts, "Blum is getting his revenge here, Ward won't be able to survive this punishment, and he may not ever want to wrestle again after the scarring!" The Hitlist tugs the sopping-wet head of Marcus Ward out of the water and rears it back again, giving him a good look at his sliced-open reflection before thrusting that face forward into the tenth mirror... TEN! SMAS...CLUNK?! Ward tilts his head as he's being thrown to the glass, and manages to give BLum a sickening thud of a headbutt propelled by his own arm, laying both of them out on the bathroom floor once again. LP cries, "Which one of these furious competitors will recover first from that head-conk and take the advantage in this match. The next person up could easily take that edge to the finish!" King shouts, "Come on Ward, YOU'RE IN CONTROL!" Several seconds pass before Marcus Ward begins to stir and climb to his feet, grabbing onto the hand-dryer above him for leverage. He pulls himself up and is leaning over face-to-face with said dryer when he reaches his finger to his temple and starts tapping it as he stands straight up, his finger covered in blood that's flowing over his face. King screams "That's it Ward, you're in control now!" LP comments, "What does he have planned, the sadistic bastard!" Ward suddenly starts bashing the hand-dryer off the wall with his forearm, taking only a few strikes to send it flying and skidding across the floor. MW pulls The Hitlist up to his feet by the hair and smiles before pressing his finger into the little actuator that starts up the hand-dryer from the inside. LP quries confusedly, "What the hell is he gonna do, dry his fancy clothing?" Blum's hair is clenched by Marcus Ward and he is pushes straight at the dryer, the heating element inside a red-hot beacon for Blum's face to be pressed into! King cackles, "You can't lose if he's on fire!" LP screams, "That's just sick King, this is no way to win a wrestling match, HARDCORE or NOT!!!!" Marcus Ward gets Nick Blum within an inch of scalding the skin of his face off before the heat or survival instinct allows him to come to life, Blum's hand getting leverage on the wall, and his off arm close to Ward sinking a abdomen-elbow to Ward, causing the release of Blum's hair. "Fortunately Nick Blum has made it out of that predictament with his life intact again," LP mentions in obvious relief. A Hip toss onto the tile floor from Nick Blum asserts his renewed control of this match. NB then quickly picks Ward up and drags him out of the bathroom, clearly relieved to be back into the open. Bystanders look oddly at the two bruised and battered men emerging from the women's restroom, but don't seem too surprised considering the location. LP comments, "At least we'll have no more bathroom shenanigans in this match, though who knows where these two will takes the action to next!" THWACK! Biting chops to the chest send Marcus Ward reeling backwards. Blum shakes his head and rips Ward's dress shirt open before he continues his knife-edged assault. THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! The WHOOOOOOS! echoing in the upstairs stadium, and even from a few metro-rider fans end at the fourth chop which sends MW to the ground. "Those chops sting Pete, and they leave a scar for days sometimes!" King reminisces LP replies, "But not as much as having a dryer element burning your flesh off would have!" Nick lands several stomps to the face of the prone Marcus Ward, before lifting him up again, this time having a sure destination in mind. The Hitlist grabs Ward by the arm and irish whips him straight at the turnstiles marking blocking off entrance to the subway trains! Marcus runs propelled across the station till he collides knee-first with one of the turnstile appartus. "Maybe they're going for a train ride today!," comments LP The Hitlist pulls Ward to his knees, then drags him underneath one of the turnstile rotating areas. He signals to himself, before attempting to rotate the turnstile to smash onto Ward's skull. Blum frowns as it won't move, then taps his temple in mocking of Ward, before grabbing Ward's wallet out of his back pocket! "What's he gonna do with that?" King questions Blum slides MW's MTA card allowing him to pass through the turnstiles, and begins turning them...right onto Ward's skull. ONE! CRASH TWO! CRASH THREE! CRASH FOUR! CRASH! Marcus Ward slumps to the ground, almost concussed from the brutal turnstile beating he just took! Nick blum goes to the apparatus at the other end of the station and climbs up top, lining Ward up once again. LP remarks, "This is just like the sink thing, only this time Ward is on the ground and The Hitlist is a bit higher up this time..." Blum slaps his elbow and struts a bit...and begins skipping from turnstile station to turnstile station, picking up speed exactly like on the washbasin. As he reaches Marcus Ward at almost a dead run, Ward is rising to his feet groggily, looking up towards the onrushing Hitlist. Blum smiles and leaps in the air with a twist spinning around twice into a three hundred and sixty degree body splash aimed right for Marcus Ward...who catches him in his arms. LP marvels, "How did he catch him and stay on his feet with all that momentum behind Blum...this man is truly powerful!" King snickers, "Just wait for the next part LP!" Ward is rocked by the force of NB's impact but holds his ground, arms clutched tightly around the horizontally elevated Nick Blum. Marcus Ward suddenly roars out loud, "I'm in TOTAL CONTROL!," and lifts blum up and over his head straight into a military press! King shouts, "It's a conspiracy collapse, and that will crash all of Blum's hopes and dreams!" Nick "The Hitlist" Blum struggles high above the subway station flat on his stomach in Ward's hands, trying to escape this situation; but he only plays into Ward's hands who lets go and drops Blum straight down onto his shoulder then slingshots him with the momentum right into a brutal standing spinebuster... "The Turnstile station. He just...Conspiracy COllapsed Nick Blum right onto the turnstile station. His spine could be shattered, disks dislodged. This match has to be over!!!" LP pronounces! Marcus Ward quickly rolls Nick Blum off the turnstile and onto the cement floor of Penn Station, falling on top of him for the pin as Official Eddy Long makes the count. ONE! TWO! THREE! "A bit anti-climatic after that brutal finish, but Marcus Ward has retained his hardcore championship in tremendous fashion..." LP comments King agrees, "Absolutely, this is a force to be reckoned with Longdogger...and one I personally love to watch work." Marcus Ward rises from the fallen opponent and walks all the way back to the place this match began to retrieve his briefcase, places the belt inside. Ward walks off with tattered shirt and freely bleeding face, leaving his opponent Nick Blum to await medical attention.