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Pete: “And as Smarkdown continues, we get ready for another high profile pay-per-view caliber match! International Champion Todd Cortez will take on Jay Hawke in a non-title contest, and this should end up being a professional wrestling clinic!” King: “And a professional wrestling clinic that Jay Hawke should win with no problem!” Pete: “With no problem?” King: “Look, these two men have met once before. In the first round of the inaugural International Title tournament, and Jay Hawke was the winner. And that was before he had this whole situation with Landon Maddix and Megan Skye driving him up an absolute wall. Face it. Cortez is simply facing too many distractions at this point to have any chance of gaining a victory here.” Pete: “You don’t think Jay Hawke has his mind set on his match with Manson at Ground Zero?” King: “I’m sure he does. But he doesn’t have a million other things going on to keep him distracted. Hawke wins it in less than five minutes.” Pete: “I doubt it’s going to be that short, but the only way to find out for sure is to go up to Funyon for the opening introductions.” Funyon: “Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest LIVE on SWF Smarkdown is a non-title contest scheduled for one fall with a 20-minute time limit!” "Learning to Fly" by Pink Floyd comes on the PA as the lights dim. Funyon: “Introducing first ... from the Hall of Fame City of Cleveland, Ohio, and weighing in at 215 pounds ... he is the current SWF International Champion … ‘The Dean of Professional Wrestling’ ... JAAAAAAAAAAAAY HAWWWWWWWWWWKE!” A spotlight shines on Jay Hawke as he makes his way to the ring. He looks around at the crowd in disgust as they begin their always familiar chant: “JAY HAWKE SUCKS! JAY HAWKE SUCKS! JAY HAWKE SUCKS!” King: “Why is it that no matter where we go, the fans have no respect for Jay Hawke? This guy is one of the best pure wrestlers in the company today!” Pete: “Maybe if he treated the fans with respect, he’d get a little bit of respect in return.” King: “But where’s the fun in that?” As Hawke makes his way onto the ring apron, he takes off his robe, folds it, and hands it to the ring attendant. Then he stands up on the turnbuckle, removing the International Championship belt from around his waist and holding it up in the air as the crowd boos. As the champion hops off the turnbuckle and hands the belt to the referee, “Oh No” begins to play over the PA. The first time Nate Dogg shouts "Oh No", a quick burst of pyro shoots up from both sides of the ramp, showering Todd Cortez in sparkles as he prepares to walk down the aisle. Funyon: “And his opponent … from Hollywood Boulevard … weighing in at 226 pounds … he is “The Urban Legend” … TOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOODD CORTEEEEEEEEEEEEEEZZZZZZZZZ!” Todd Cortez quickly enters the ring, raising an arm in the air to salute his fans but making sure to keep one eye on his opponent. Pete: “Both competitors are in the ring, and I can’t wait to see how this one develops!” King: “I’m telling you, Funyon doesn’t even announce the five minutes call in this one. Trust me on that one!” Referee Scott Ryder signals to the timekeeper… *DING DING DING!* Pete: “And what should be a tremendous wrestling match is officially underway.” King: “I’m just disappointed that we’re not getting a look at old school rules tonight. I want to see what Manson’s going to be up against on Sunday night.” Both men lock up collar-and-elbow in the center of the ring. Jay Hawke immediately wraps his arms around the side of Todd Cortez’s head. Cortez slips out, grabbing Hawke’s left arm and locking it behind his back. Jay Hawke bends forward, grabs a hold of Cortez’s foot, and trips Cortez up. Cortez uses his free foot to push Jay Hawke toward the ropes and quickly gets to his feet, but Jay Hawke hooks the top rope with his arms to prevent himself from rebounding into his waiting opponent. CLAPCLAPCLAPCLAPCLAP! Pete: “And these fans are showing their appreciation for a tremendous opening sequence of wrestling, King.” King: “Yeah, but these people cheer for beer and potatoes. Beer I understand, but potatoes?” The two combatants lock up again. Again Hawke quickly locks Todd Cortez into a side headlock. Cortez lifts Hawke up as if to take him backwards, but Hawke kicks his feet and shifts his weight, taking Cortez down to the mat with the headlock still intact. Cortez is quickly out of the hold, and he scissors Hawke’s head between his legs. Hawke immediately slips out of the hold, landing with his back across the upper body of his opponent. The referee slides into position to count the Urban Legend’s shoulders down: ONE! TWO! Todd Cortez bridges out of the hold, drawing a “oh” of appreciation from the Irish crowd, before spinning his opponent over and locking his arms, taking him over the back until Hawke’s shoulders are down on the canvas: ONE! TWO! Hawke frees his left arm to slip out of the pinning predicament, and both men are quickly to their feet in the stalemate pose. CLAPCLAPCLAPCLAPCLAP! Pete: “And another impressive wrestling sequence from the get-go here. These two men are sure showing exactly how to have a tremendous scientific wrestling match.” King: “Yeah, so far, but I think Hawke knows he can beat Cortez whenever he damn well feels like it, so he’s just going to toy with him for a little while.” Both men return to the lockup. This time it’s Todd Cortez locking in the side headlock. Jay Hawke quickly shoves Todd Cortez into the ropes and ducks his head, expecting a basic rebound off the ropes. Cortez thinks quickly though, and he springboards off the middle rope and spins in midair, flipping over the top of the International Champion and taking him down with a sunset flip: ONE! TWO! Kickout. Jay Hawke looks bewildered as he makes his way to his feet, only for Todd Cortez to catch him in the side of the head with a picture-perfect dropkick that sends the Dean rolling to the arena floor. Hawke rolls to a seated position on the floor, looking up into the ring with a look of shock as Scott Ryder pushes Cortez to a neutral corner. Pete: “And there’s the innovation of Todd Cortez coming into play. It started off as a technical masterpiece, but that springboard sunset flip has completely turned the tide of this one.” King: “There’s nothing to worry about here, Richard. OK, the referee’s exercising a ten count on the International Champion right now, but if you think Hawke is going to use any less of the count than he needs to regroup, you’re absolutely crazy.” FOUR! Jay Hawke makes his way to his feet, looking at Cortez in the ring and plotting his next move. However, plotting his next move takes the Dean’s gaze away from his opponent momentarily, and his gaze returns just in time to see Cortez’s body twisting over the top rope and onto him with a plancha! “YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!” Pete: “Todd Cortez with a dynamite corkscrew plancha, and he’s got Jay Hawke discombobulated!” King: “You mean that’s actually a real word? I always thought that was something Dusty Rhodes made up because he couldn’t think of the word ‘confused’.” Todd Cortez grabs Jay Hawke and rolls him into the ring, then hops up onto the ring apron. Jay Hawke slowly makes his way to his feet, but Cortez uses the ropes to springboard onto the top rope, then immediately leaps off of it, taking Jay Hawke down with a beautiful flying body press. ONE! TWO! T -- kickout. The Dean of Professional Wrestling is quickly back to his feet, only for the Urban Legend to wrap up his head and take him down to the mat with a side headlock. Hawke decides to relax for a second and think of a way to regroup, but he doesn’t realize his shoulders have fallen to the mat: ONE! TWO! THRE -- Hawke barely lifts the left shoulder. Pete: “Whoa. Todd Cortez almost caught Jay Hawke napping right there.” King: “A rare mistake for Jay Hawke, and he’d better not make too many of those. He doesn’t want to be on a downslide of momentum heading into his title defense with Manson at Ground Zero.” Jay Hawke grabs Todd Cortez’s tights and turns him onto his shoulders: ONE! TWO! Todd Cortez lifts a shoulder and regains his positioning, still hanging on to the headlock. Jay Hawke once again grabs the Urban Legend’s tights and takes him over onto the shoulders: ONE! TWO! And Cortez regains his positioning again. This time the crowd is beginning to scream at Ryder for not noticing the tight pulling, but he ignores the screams and checks to see if Jay Hawke wants to submit. King: “Has anybody ever submitted to a side headlock since Ed ‘Strangler’ Lewis used to use it?” Jay Hawke again uses the tights to roll Todd Cortez over to his back: ONE! The crowd begins screaming again. TWO! Scott Ryder looks over and sees Jay Hawke using the tights. He begins a five count, and Hawke lets go of the tights, only for Todd Cortez to regain his position on the headlock. Jay Hawke’s had enough of trying to counter and reaches out with his right foot, putting it over the bottom rope and forcing the break. Pete: “Jay Hawke using the ropes for the break, something he won’t be able to do against Manson.” King: “Well, he can do it three times per fall, but it’s something he’ll need to avoid doing if at all possible.” As Jay Hawke uses the ropes to pull himself up to his feet, Todd Cortez immediately runs into the ropes, hoping to catch Jay Hawke off-guard. Funyon: “Five minutes have gone by, 15 minutes remain.” However, Jay Hawke sees him coming and grabs him by the waist, lifting him and dropping him throat-first onto the top rope. Cortez turns around instinctively while clutching his throat, and Jay Hawke drives a knee into the back of the Urban Legend that sends him sliding under the bottom rope to the arena floor. Pete: “And just after the five minute mark that my colleague swore we would never reach, the International Champion has regained control of the match!” King: “OK, so Cortez is having a lucky night. But if you’ll remember back to that first meeting between these two men, it was the back that Jay Hawke focused on for most of the contest. And what does he do? He drives a knee square into the back and sends his opponent tumbling to the concrete. That’s a great lesson for the kids out there.” Jay Hawke remembers that as well, and against Scott Ryder’s wishes, he immediately follows the Urban Legend out to the arena floor. As Ryder begins his ten count, Hawke stands in front of Cortez, leans forward with his shoulder around navel level, and drives Todd Cortez’s back into the side of the ring apron. “OHHHHHHHH!” And again. “OHHHHHHHHHHHH!” And again. “OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” SIX! Hearing the count, Jay Hawke rolls into the ring, then quickly rolls back out of the ring to force Scott Ryder to start his count over again. He then picks up Cortez, looking as if to body slam him, before driving Cortez’s back square onto his knee. Pete: “And that back is definitely the target of the International Champion! Unusual strategy for him, as he usually works the shoulder to set up the Wing Span!” THREE! As Cortez struggles to get to his feet, Jay Hawke hooks the head and spins, driving the back and neck of Todd Cortez into the hard concrete. “OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! JAY HAWKE SUCKS! JAY HAWKE SUCKS! JAY HAWKE SUCKS!” Pete: “Oh my God. King: “And that swinging neck breaker isn’t going to do the Urban Legend any favors, is it?” SEVEN! Jay Hawke struggles to pick up the lifeless body of Todd Cortez, rolling him back into the ring. Hawke slides into the ring underneath the bottom rope and quickly goes for the cover, hooking a leg for added leverage: ONE! TWO! THRE -- NO! Todd Cortez barely manages to get his free leg over the bottom rope to prevent the fatal three count. King: “Cortez is lucky there, Pete! If Hawke rolls him another six inches, this match is over and I can break out this bottle of champagne I have on the table here to celebrate!” Undaunted, Jay Hawke turns Todd Cortez onto his stomach. He begins to drive a knee repeatedly into the small of the Urban Legend’s back. Cortez cringes with every knee to the spine, and Hawke leaves the knee on the spine while pulling back on his resilient opponent’s chin. Pete: “And there you see it. All the weight of the International Champion is on the neck and back of the former tag team champion.” “LET’S GO TODD! LET’S GO TODD! LET’S GO TODD!” King: “And not even the cheers from this Dublin crowd are going to save him anytime soon! Brilliant work as always from the Dean of Professional Wrestling!” Jay Hawke lets go of his chinlock, but he drives another knee drop into the spine of his fallen opponent. This one has Cortez bending backwards, and he rolls over just enough for Hawke to push him onto his back and cover: ONE! TWO! TH -- kickout. The crowd cheers for their hero as he kicks out, but Jay Hawke immediately drops a leg across the neck and chest of the Urban Legend. Hawke is quickly into the cover again, hooking the leg for additional leverage: ONE! TWO! Kickout. Pete: “Todd Cortez refuses to give in, King!” King: “He’s either too stubborn or too stupid to know when he’s in there with a better man. I vote for the latter myself.” With Todd Cortez still down, Jay Hawke once again rolls him onto his stomach. Jay gets a couple of stomps into the small of the back, then grabs hold of the chin and locks in the hold that makes the executives of UPN cower in terror… Pete: “Camel clutch!” Todd Cortez reaches forward, his right hand out as if to tap out, but he clenches his fist as he tries to fight the pain. Jay Hawke leans back with as much force as he can muster, going for the tapout that will send him into Ground Zero with all the momentum in his favor. King: “And this shows you how stupid Todd Cortez really is. The match he really wants is coming up next week on pay-per-view, but he’s so concerned with winning this match that he’s willing to go in too weak to have any shot of winning that one too!” The Urban Legend gets one arm free and begins to crawl toward the ropes, but Jay Hawke releases the hold just long enough to sit down on the small of Cortez’s back. Hawke goes right back to the camel clutch, and this time it’s Longdogger Pete who says, “I’m not sure Cortez has enough left to come back after that.” King: “This is what I’ve been saying for ten minutes or so already. If you’d pay attention to me once in a while, maybe you’d actually become a good broadcaster.” As Jay Hawke continues to pull back on the camel clutch, Todd Cortez’s eyes begin to roll into the back of his head. With the arms going limp, Scott Ryder leans in to check on the Urban Legend as the crowd rallies the only guy they like in this match: “LET’S GO TODD! LET’S GO TODD! LET’S GO TODD!” King: “Yeah yeah, let’s go Todd, we love you even though you knocked up that slutty chick.” Pete: “Knock it off, King.” King: “What? This isn’t Lockdown, I can get away with saying stuff like that here.” Cortez once again gets an arm free and begins crawling toward the ropes. With the crowd’s cheers inspiring him, he makes his way closer to the side of the ring. He’s two feet away… … One foot away… … Six inches away… Funyon: Ten minutes have gone by, ten minutes remain. Jay Hawke releases the hold long enough to attempt to jump onto Cortez’s back, but Cortez is quick to spin around and lift a foot that catches Jay Hawke about six inches too low to feel even remotely good. “OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY! LET’S GO TODD! LET’S GO TODD! LET’S GO TODD!” King: “I dispute that! That was a blatant low blow and should be an automatic disqualification!” Pete: “It wasn’t intentional, and Scott Ryder is making a judgment call here by allowing the match to continue!” King: “And he’s clearly making the wrong judgment call by allowing the match to continue!” Todd Cortez pulls himself to his feet, his hand laying against his back as he winces in pain. Jay Hawke, still dazed from an “unintentional intentional” low blow, makes his way to his feet as well, only for Todd Cortez to level him with a stunning forearm uppercut. Hawke staggers backwards, then comes forward again, only to be leveled with another European uppercut. Hawke staggers backwards, then comes forward yet again. Cortez levels him with a third European uppercut that sends spit flying as Jay Hawke falls flat on the mat like he’s been shot. Cortez then instinctively falls on his opponent: ONE! TWO! THR -- shoulder up. “YA--BOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Pete: “What a tremendous move that was, King! A series of European uppercuts, and he almost had enough to pin Jay Hawke right there!” King: “Yeah, but the only time almost ever works is in horseshoes. And personally, I think horseshoes make for a better weapon than a game to play at family reunions!” As both men pull themselves to their feet, it’s Cortez up first. He levels Hawke with a series of martial arts kicks that eventually spin him around. He then grabs the Dean of Wrestling and takes him down with a Russian legsweep, then rolls through and drops a leg across Jay Hawke’s chest. Pete: “A beautiful Russian legsweep/leg drop combination by Cortez, and that could be enough.” King: “But he’s holding his back! It’s forcing him to take too much time to follow up!” Cortez slowly goes for the pin, only barely hooking the leg due to the pain shooting through his back: ONE! TWO! Kickout. Cortez puts his head down, not believing Hawke could kick out of that after twelve minutes of grueling action. Cortez slowly pulls Jay Hawke to his feet, and he levels him with three more European uppercuts that back the International Champion into the turnbuckle. Cortez slowly moves in and uses as much force as he can muster to Irish whip Jay Hawke into the opposite corner. He runs in and handsprings toward the corner, looking for an elbow to the face, but Hawke lifts his knee, catching the Urban Legend in the small of the back. “OHHHHHHHHHHHH!” King: “Look familiar, Pete? This is how Hawke won their first meeting a few months ago!” Jay Hawke rolls Todd Cortez up into a schoolboy cradle: ONE! Jay Hawke puts the feet on the ropes for leverage. TWO! The crowd screams at the referee to look up at the ropes. THRE -- Todd Cortez rolls to his right and just barely gets the shoulder up. Pete: “But it didn’t get the three count this time, King!” Todd Cortez rolls over to his feet, but Jay Hawke is already charging him, and he takes him down with a leg lariat that would have probably decapitated Cortez if it were possible for one leg to decapitate a human being. King: “But that lariat’s going to put him away for sure! A human head is not supposed to snap completely back like that!” Jay Hawke goes for the cover: ONE! TWO! THR -- kickout! “YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!” Pete: “And Cortez kicks out again! How is he doing this, King?” King: “Why are you asking me? I expected this match to be over about ten minutes ago!” Although technically still in the match, it’s clear Cortez is in a lot of pain. Jay Hawke climbs onto the middle rope, ready for one big move that can put this match away. As Cortez gets to his feet, Hawke leaps, doing a forward flip and bringing Cortez to the mat with a neck breaker. Pete: “Jay Hawke with the blockbuster, and he’s going for the pin yet again!” ONE! TWO! THR -- Cortez just barely lifts the left shoulder off the canvas as Hawke slaps the mat in frustration. Jay Hawke positions himself so he’s behind Cortez, who is barely coherent enough to make his way to his feet. Jay Hawke grabs him into a waistlock, lifts him up, and drives him backwards, holding a bridge as Scott Ryder slides into position: ONE! TWO! THR -- kickout. King: “You know, Pete, I’m starting to be really glad that I didn’t put money on this one.” Pete: “Afraid you’d lose it?” King: “No, but I’d sure be a lot more nervous than I already am at this point.” Frustrated, Jay Hawke stomps at Todd Cortez’s head as he makes his way to his feet. He grabs him from behind again, going for another German suplex, but Todd Cortez flips forward to cradle Jay Hawke into a Victory roll: ONE! TWO! THRE -- kickout! “YAAAAAA--BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” THAT WAS THREE! THAT WAS THREE! THAT WAS THREE!” Pete: “Only a count of two, but this crowd sure didn’t think so!” King: “Great call by Scott Ryder! His first good call of the match!” Both men get to their feet, but it’s Jay Hawke getting in a couple of hard forearm smashes. He runs into the ropes, but Cortez catches him coming in by lifting him up and driving him spine first into the mat as he falls into a seated position. Pete: “Sitout spine buster!” Cortez clutches his back, but quickly recovers and goes for the pin: Funyon: “Fifteen minutes have gone by, five minutes remain in the time limit!” ONE! TWO! THRE -- Jay Hawke just barely gets the left shoulder up. King: “This is all beginning to get to be too close for comfort!” Todd Cortez pulls Jay Hawke to his feet again, and he backs Hawke into the ropes with a series of martial arts kicks. Cortez whips Jay Hawke into the opposite set of ropes and takes him down as he rebounds with a super kick. Cortez immediately covers again and hooks a leg: ONE! TWO! TH -- kickout. Todd Cortez slaps the mat in frustration, then pulls Jay Hawke to his feet yet again. This time it’s Cortez who wraps Hawke around the waist from behind, going for a German suplex. Jay Hawke throws a couple of hard elbows, but Cortez ducks underneath each one of them. Cortez lifts Hawke up for the suplex, but this time it’s Jay Hawke rolling forward into the Victory roll: ONE! TWO! Jay Hawke reaches forward and grabs the middle rope for leverage. THREE! *DING DING DING!* “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! BULL-SHIT! BULL-SHIT BULL-SHIT!” King: “Yes! Justice is served, and all is right with the world!” Pete: “You’ve got to be kidding!” Funyon: “Ladies and gentlemen, in 15 minutes 48 seconds, your winner of this match … the SWF International Champion … JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY HAWWWWWWWWWWWKE!” As Jay Hawke rolls out of the ring, he grabs his title belt off of the timekeeper’s table and raises it up into the air, taunting the crowd with it. Meanwhile, Todd Cortez argues with the referee about the use of the ropes, but Scott Ryder insists he didn’t see it. Pete: “I can’t believe that’s going to go down in the record book as a victory for Jay Hawke. King: “You’d better believe it, Pete. All that matters is that you find a way to win, and Jay Hawke found a way to win.” Pete: “And we’ve still got plenty of action with men who want to find a way to win! We’ll have more of that action following this commercial break!”

“Mr. Hawke,” says Tom Flesher, the camera trained on him, “it’s good to see you again.” “Mr. Flesher, likewise,” says the grizzled International Champion, Jay Hawke, as the camera pulls back. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” “I thought I’d let you know that there are going to be some… interesting things happening as we lead up to the pay-per-view. Joe Peters called me a little earlier, and, well, let’s just say that I need to make sure that some of my top draws are going to stay loyal.” “What’s the problem?” “Don’t worry about it right now, Jay,” says Flesher with a grin. “You worry about Todd Cortez, and you let me worry about the business end of things. All I want is your word that no matter what happens, you’re going to stay true to the Smarkdown philosophy.” “ ‘Wrestling fans watch a wrestling show because they want to see wrestlers wrestling,’ ” says Hawke, matching Flesher’s smirk. “Don’t worry, Tom. I’m ready for whatever you put in front of me.” “Good,” Flesher says with a nod. He stands, offering Hawke his hand. Hawke shakes it, also standing. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe I need to go out and make an announcement.” FADE.

The crowd buzzes impatiently as Funyon steps into the ring. “Ladies and Gentleman, the following contest is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, from Denver, Colorado, MANSOOOOOOOOOOOON!!!” Mastadon’s “Crusher Destroyer” plays as Manson appears on the ramp and the crowd erupts. “Why are they cheering him so loud?” questions Pete. “All Irish people love Denver,” responds King. “And why is that?” “It’s actually quite simple. You see-” “And his opponent, from PARTS UNKNOOOWN, GHOST MACHINE!” EH! EH BOO! EH! EH BOO BOO! The crowd boos viscously as Ghost steps onto the stage with JL Crunk. “Wow, they’re really set against Ghost Machine in this one,” notes Pete. “Obviously. During the second world war robots almost caused the destruction of Ireland by…” King is drowned out by the screams of the surprisingly sober Irish crowd. Ghost climbs into the ring. He pauses on the apron and locks eyes with the Denver native. “Manson is scary, but Ghost Machine is scarier. Manson can usually overpower his opponents but in this bout that’s not an option. I say with no exaggeration that Ghost can toss Manson around like a cruiserweight. He’ll have to acknowledge that. I say if Manson can take to the skies or stick to the mat he has a good chance of putting away the robot. =DING DING DING= Manson sizes up Ghost Machine, trying to feel out Ghost and determine where and how to start his attack. Ghost gives nothing, staring at Manson. Before he can decide, Ghost begins moving, albeit slowly, towards him. Manson runs at Ghost and delivers an elbow, but it just bounces off Ghost’s chest as if he were made of metal. Manson runs in again, but only fakes an elbow. He lunges at the legs. Ghost Machine buckles, and crashes to the mat. YEAH! Pete jumps to his feet. “He’s already brought this beast down!” he shouts excitedly. King nods approvingly. “Whereas Ghost Machine is almost invincible on his feet, he is rather defenseless against submissions because it is so hard for him to lift his 312 pounds up to a standing position.” Manson immediately locks on an STF. Ghost thrashes, trying to get to his feet, as if he doesn’t even notice Manson. Finally he begins smashing his fist against the bruiser. Still, Manson will not release the hold, knowing that he will not get many chances like this. Ghost Machine eventually bashes Manson off and gets to his feet, but not without considerable damage. “He’s definitely nursing that neck,” says Pete. Ghost Machine drags Manson to his feet and sets him up for a suplex. He lifts him high into the air… “My god!” King cries out. “It’s almost as if that neck can’t hold Manson’s weight!” ….and completes the move. However, both men remain on the mat. Ghost is holding his neck in pain. The ref starts counting. ONE TWO Manson finally comes to his senses and rises. He starts climbing the ropes, and the crowd buzzes. Ghost Machine gets up while Manson is climbing and approaches the turnbuckle. Manson turns around looking for the elbow, but instead finds a face full of Ghost Machine’s fist! Ghost throws the wounded bull to the mat. His 240 pounds crash violently, rendering him unconscious. Ghost Machine ascends to the top turnbuckle. “Ghost Machine is on the top rope!” King declares. “He could kill Manson!” Pete says in horror. King considers this apprehensively. “Maybe that’s the plan…” He thinks better of it and climbs down. He goes to the downed bull and applies a sleeper hold. Manson’s eyes widen and he lunges upward, only to be dragged back down by the challenger with machine-like intensity. Manson fights off the sleeper with constant motion, as Ghost has trouble keeping the hold on and applying pressure at the same time. Manson squirms around, leaving him face to face with Ghost Machine. Ghost stares at him for a few moments, then headbutts him with incredible force. “AAAAAHHHHH!” Manson lurches backwards, his face badly bleeding. Ghost Machine moves in for the kill. He sprints (slowly) to Manson and bashes the top of his head with a running double axehandle. Manson hangs in space a moment, then collapses to the mat. Ghost continues his unrelenting assault. He mounts the downed man and begins pummeling his stomach with punches. Manson manages to endure the viscous beating and reaches up to Ghost Machine. He wraps his fingers around the meaty neck. Ghost pauses to pry them off, and Manson kicks him in the face with both feet as hard as he can. Ghost’s head snaps back and he crumples. “Ghost Machine has gone from a huge threat to a huge target!” King exclaims. “Looks like Manson’s finally turned this match around,” says Pete, happy to see the Raging Bull gain momentum. “Don’t speak too soon…..” King warns. But it appears Manson has turned the match around. With some difficulty he rolls Ghost onto his stomach, then slaps on an STF to the neck he almost broke before. Every ounce of muscle on Manson’s frame is devoted to bending Ghost’s thick neck back into his spine. Ghost is screaming in pain, something unseen in the SWF up to this point. “He’s about to tap!” Pete is on his feet again. King shakes his head in disbelief. “Come on Ghost Machine! Hold on!” Ghost, with incredible effort, lifts himself and Manson to his knees. Manson is now standing with the hold on, and can apply even more pressure. Laboriously, Ghost starts to push upwards. “He’s on his feet!” says King. Ghost breaks the hold and whips Manson into the ropes. Ghost prepares for something, but gets a Yakuza kick to the face! The sound of the boot smashing against Ghost’s forehead echoes throughout the arena. Ghost Machine gets up, and Manson wraps his arms around the man. He starts to lift him into the air…and with great effort, completes a belly-to-belly suplex into a pinning bridge. ONE! TWO! The force of Ghost’s kickout sends the bull flying across the ring. Manson crashes into the ropes and falls. The two competitors run towards each other. Ghost sticks out his arm for a lariat, but Manson hooks it and swings his momentum into an arm drag. He swings the arm around Ghost’s neck and locks on a neck wrench arm bar, and this time Ghost really does look ready to tap out. TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP! He shakes his head and screams. Manson twists the arm a little more, and Ghost starts thrashing, or convulsing, against the ring. “ARGHAARHGARH!!!” “ARGHARAAA………………….” He starts to drift off. “Ghost Machine just passed out from the pain!” Pete says triumphantly. The ref lifts Ghost’s arm. It flops to the ground. ONE! He lifts the arm again. It again falls to the mat. TWO! The ref raises Ghost Machine’s arm. It falls…. THR- No! Ghost Machine arm rises into the air! The crowd gets frantic, fearing for their hero. TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP!!! Ghost Machine rolls to the side, ending up right on top of Manson. He stands up, lifting Manson to his feet. DDT! He lifts Manson up again. Powerbomb! “Looks like Ghost Machine has gotten his second wind!” Pete says, sounding worried. “There’s no way a guy as small as Manson can survive this onslaught,” King pronounces confidently. “He’s not that small…” says Pete, fully aware of Ghost’s imposing size. Ghost Machine covers. ONE! TWO! Shoulder up! Angry, Ghost puts an elbow into Manson’s face and covers again. ONE! TWO! Shoulder up! Ghost Machine is furious now. He throws Manson to his feet, and elbows his back. Manson doubles over and Ghost grabs his belly. PILEDRIVER! Cover. ONE! TWO! Shoulder up! “AAAAAAAHHHHHRGHHHH!” Ghost Machine roars in rage. He lifts the bull over his head and starts walking to the ropes. “He’s going to throw Manson over the ropes!” shouts King. Manson comes to his senses and starts hammering Ghost’s head, but to no avail. He throws Manson towards the outside. Manson catches the rope in midair and swings his momentum around, to the delight of his fans. The normally grounded grappler shoots through the rope and plants his feet into Ghost’s midsection. “OOF!” Manson wraps an arm around Ghost’s neck and lifts himself up, smashing his knee into Ghost’s face repeatedly, using Ghost himself as support. Ghost staggers back, then right into a release northern lights suplex! The crowd goes into a frenzy as Manson hops onto the second rope. Smelling blood, he soars into the air, seems to hang there for a moment, then comes crashing down onto the helpless Ghost Machine with a devastating leg drop MANSON! MANSON! MANSON! MANSON! He hooks the leg. ONE! TWO! Shoulder up! BOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Fuck you, ref! Manson starts battering Ghost with no concern for technicality or finesse. Fist after fist crashes against Ghost’s skull. Each blow is more furious than the next, as Manson realizes he can’t hold the advantage for that long. He gets up and bounces off the ropes, then connects with a knee drop. SMACK! Ghost Machine tries to get up, but Manson kicks him sharply in the spine. SNAP! And again! CRACK! Ghost arches his back in pain, and Manson jumps up and kicks him in the back of the skull. POP! He stumbles forward on his knees for a bit, and ends up tangled in the ropes. Manson surveys his prey with a snarl, knowing that there is no escape from what is about to happen. He smashes a knuckle into Ghost’s head. Manson’s rabid fans count as he continues the brutal beating. ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FI- Ghost Machine somehow twists out of the way, and Manson’s momentum carries him through the ropes and onto the floor. SMACK! Manson’s head hits the uncovered concrete and the sound reverberates throughout the stadium. Meanwhile, with great difficulty and the aid of the ref, Ghost Machine has escaped from the ropes. He steps onto the apron, and without giving it a second thought leaps over the prone Manson and lands on him with a crash. HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! “Holy shit!” screams King. “Pardon my language, but Ghost Machine just crushed Manson! He…he could be dead!” Pete shakes his head incredulously. “Indeed! I don’t want to sound like a complete idiot, but this guy is like a robot!” Ghost Machine is already up, but Manson is way out. SIX! Ghost rolls Manson into the ring and follows before he can be counted out. Ghost rolls Manson into the center of the ring, then runs to the ropes. The ring quivers with each footstep, and the huge man rebounds towards Manson. He jumps into the air and connects with a picture-perfect legdrop. Manson rolls over in pain, and Ghost sits on his back. “Camel Clutch!” King exclaims. Manson’s body bends under the weight of Ghost Machine. He shouts in pain, but refuses to tap. Ghost releases an arm and continues the hold with just one hand, using the other to pat Manson cheerfully on the head. BOOO! Pete winces. “How humiliating! It looks like this could be Ghost’s second win over Manson, and t doesn’t even look like he’s trying.” Manson looks as though he’s about to tap, but Ghost’s arrogance changes his mind. He grabs Ghost Machine’s free hand and twists it. Ghost shouts and rolls off of Manson, who capitalizes. He pounces, and the two men roll around the mat. Manson and Ghost struggle to stay on top while simultaneously trying to get an open shot. They trade blows, and blood begins to trickle. Punches fly and blood spatters the ring. Manson rolls away and hops to his feet, showing the crowd his face is not bloody. YEAH!!! Ghost pulls himself to his feet with the ropes, and he’s a mess. His mask is torn by the mouth and forehead, and he has a gash in his forehead. Blood is oozing down. Even with a mask on, everyone can tell that this man is angry. He jumps at Manson. He tries to dodge, but Ghost adjusts course and brings him down. They pop up and Manson gets a boot to the gut. He bends over in pain, and Ghost Machine kicks him full power in the face. SMACK! The bull lurches forward, and Ghost catches him. He tosses him overhead in a sort of distorted belly-to-belly. Exhausted from the exchange, Ghost falls to the ground next to his opponent. LET’S GO MANSON, LET’S GO! The fans rally behind their man, and Manson responds. He staggers and stumbles to his feet, then spits on Ghost Machine and raises a middle finger. YEAAAAHHH! Ghost Machine tries to get up, but Manson skillfully and precisely kicks out his left leg. Ghost reaches out into space as he falls back to the mat. “Now that Ghost Machine is grounded,” says Pete, “I don’t see how Mansoncan’t win this match.” Manson applies a third STF. YEEAAAAAHHH! The crowd, sensing blood, rises to see Ghost tap. “That’s definitely the loudest cheer I’ve ever heard for that hold,” King says, impressed. Ghost Machine is wild. He is whipping back against the mat, desperately trying to break the hold. The gashes in his forehead have blinded him with. Manson knows this could be his only chance to finish Ghost. “Tap!” “AAAAARRRRRRRRGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” He refuses to give up. Manson finally releases the hold. BOOOOO! Ghost Machine bursts to his feet and clotheslines Manson. As he flies backwards, Ghost clotheslines him again with his other arm, this time in the back of the head: the incredible double clothesline. “It’s the incredible double clothesline!” shouts Pete. Manson’s neck snaps against the canvas so hard that he rebounds onto his knees. Ghost Machine is amused and pulls his opponents to his feet. He draws his hand back and slaps Manson as hard as he can across the face. CRACK! This wakes Manson up, and he returns the favor. CRACK! Ghost Machine is completely unaffected, and lifts the Raging Bull into the air with one hand. The ref rushes in to break the hold, but Ghost pushes him away. Manson gurgles and turns blue. Pete pops up again. “Come on!” he shouts. “Break it up!” “Sssh!” King chides. “Let the ref do his job.” Ghost Machine sets Manson down on the top rope. He walks to the opposite corner and runs at him. Manson launches himself towards Ghost, who catches him in mid-air. Ghost stumbles back from the impact. Manson knows he has only a few moments, and hammers on his opponent’s head with elbows. He collapses unconscious against the ropes and Manson hops off. King is impressed with the exchange. “Hm.” Manson grabs the left arm he damaged earlier and twists it behind the behemoth’s back. Ghost grabs the rope. “Break!” Manson bounces off the ropes and dropkicks on the rebound, sending Ghost Machine on his back. He hooks the leg for the cover. ONE! TWO! Kickout! Ghost launches Manson straight up in the air. Unfortunately, gravity brings him down, and straight onto the outstretched leg of Ghost Machine. Exhausted, Ghost rolls to the outside for a breather. Manson remains face down on the mat as the robot regains his wind. ONE! Slowly but surely, Manson brings himself to his knees. TWO! Ghost Machine reclines against a barrier, bloody and tired. THREE! Manson wilts like a dead rose against the ropes, but is on his feet. FOUR! Ghost Machine slugs a fan that pats him on the back. FIVE! Manson is on his feet and considering his next moves. SIX! Security breaks up the fight Ghost Machine has started. SEVEN! Manson bounces off the ropes. EIGHT! Ghost Machine turns towards the ring. NINE! Manson flies between the first and second ropes, dropkicking Ghost Machine square in the face and breaking the count. “I don’t see where he’s going with this,” says King. “Manson is already worn down, and Ghost Machine’s neck is the real money maker.” Manson quickly recovers and is on Ghost Machine like bees on bread. ONE! TWO! THREE! Manson’s fans chant with each punch. The ref tries to break up the two warriors, but can hardly be heard over the roar of the crowd. Ghost reaches up blindly, finds Manson’s neck, and holds on for dear life. The warrior immediately relents and tries to pry the sausage-like fingers from his neck. Neither man realizes the ref has resumed his count. EIGHT! Aware of the danger of count-out, drags Manson to his feet and hurls him into the ring. NINE! Ghost sprints towards the ring. TE-No! Ghost dives into the ring, just in time. “My god!” King shouts. “That was a close call!” Ghost gets up to meet Manson. He attempts an irish whip, but Manson reverses the throw and sends Ghost into the ropes. He springs back and leaps into the air, but the bull has the presence of mind to duck. 312 pounds fall to the canvas. Manson sprints to the corner and leaps to the second rope. He rebounds off the turnbuckle and lands a perfect legdrop on Ghost Machine’s back. YEAAAAH! Manson bounds onto the back of the challenger and grabs the neck. Sensing what his about to happen, Ghost rears up on his legs, but Manson hangs on and wrestles him back to the mat. “Now Manson is going for the Camel Clutch!” exclaims King. Manson struggles but manages to hook the head. Ghost Machine, acting on impulse, snaps his head back into Manson’s. He manages to stay awake but releases his death grip on Ghost Machine’s wounded neck. Ghost Machine rises above him, furious. “He’s going to make Manson pay for that trick,” Pete says. Ghost Machine locks eyes with Manson. There is look of confusion in Manson’s eyes. He doesn’t know the challenger, hasn’t felt him out yet. He has no idea what will come next. More specifically, he does not know that Ghost Machine is going to stomp on his head. Ghost Machine stomps on Manson’s head. Manson reaches out and catches the boot before it returns for seconds, and twists with all his might. Ghost Machine loses his balance for a moment, but doesn’t lose composure. He does, however, lose his shoe. Seeing his prize, Manson scampers backwards on all fours. Ghost approaches the helpless grappler. He points at the boot, then at himself. Manson hands him the boot. Ghost takes it cautiously, and starts to put it on….. …..but Manson EXPLODES to his feet and damn near decapitates Ghost Machine with an elbow. He spins 180 degrees and lands straight on his head/neck. K-RUNCH! MANSON! MANSON! MANSON! “Is he dead?” Pete asks anxiously. “Don’t think so….” answers King. Ghost suddenly springs to his feet, and the stunned arena actually applauds. “Well, the fans finally giving Ghost Machine some credit,” notes King. “You sure as hell can’t fake something like that.” Ghost Machine scoops up Manson like a teddy bear and deposits him in the corner. Manson attempts to run, but Ghost sticks out his foot, and the bull plummets flat on his face. He reaches down and grasps him with his meaty paws, then returns him to the corner. Ghost hooks his arm under Manson and lifts him to the top rope. Climbing up to meet him, Ghost hooks Manson’s arms under the ropes so there’s no escape. Ghost lifts his arms into the air, immersing himself in the boos, taunts, and jeers. He raises his hands in the unmistakable two-fisted FUCK YOU, then starts bashing Manson. His arms pounds Manson’s head and neck with hurricane fury and deadly accuracy. Manson has no way to hide as he is hit with elbows BAM, hooks BAM, uppercuts BAM, jabs BAM and forearms BAM. Ghost Machine pauses for a moment. BOOO! He looks at Manson with a look of withering contempt apparent even through his shredded, bloody, and masked face. He clasps his arms around Manson and lifts him into the air. “Notice how hard it is for Ghost to lift Manson after all those STF before,” says Pete. “His neck can hardly hold his head up.” King nods as Ghost Machine struggles to suplex Manson. “I don’t think he has the neck strength left to pull something like this off.” WHOMP! Ghost Machine somehow summons the strength to lift his opponent, and suplexes him to the mat with incredible force. He’s momentarily stunned, but makes the cover. ONE! TWO! MANSON! MANSON! MANSON! MANSON! THR-No! Shoulder up! YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH! “How the hell did he do that?” shouts King. “This is why Manson is so great,” says Pete. “He can survive an incredible beating.” Manson can’t get up. His head was nearly caved in, and the superplex only made it worse. Ghost Machine looks down at Manson. How did this man ever beat me? Manson takes advantage of Ghost Machine’s deep thought by sweeping his foot out and kicking Ghost Machine’s ankle. He loses balance and falls on his back. Before he can get up, Manson rolls towards Ghost Machine, over Ghost Machine, STF! “He’s got that STF on, Pete! This one’s over!” Ghost Machine reaches over with his other arm, but it just isn’t long enough. TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP! Ghost starts clawing his way to the ropes, five feet away. TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP! “He’s about to lose it!” says Pete. “And if he goes out again, there’s no coming back!” TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP! The ropes are three feet away, Ghost Machine reaches out, almost tearing his arm out of its socket…… “Break!” The disappointment in the arena is palpable. “Manson has given Ghost Machine all that he has, but it just isn’t enough.” Both men struggle to their feet, knowing the end is near. Ghost Machine wipes the blood off his face. Manson holds his head and neck in pain. They move towards each other. Manson takes the initiative and runs to the ropes. He jumps to the second rope and spins off in Ghost’s direction, elbow extended. Ghost ducks and turns around, shocked to see Manson running directly towards him. Quickly, Manson brings his arm up and swings it towards Ghost’s head. “Western Lariat!” NO! Ghost Machine catches the arm and twists so Manson’s back is to him. He presses forward, crashing to the mat. He struggles under Ghost Machine’s weight, but Ghost hooks Manson’s arms behind his legs and grabs his chin for the Camel Clutch. “AAAAAAAAHHH!” He clenches his teeth and screams, desperately trying to escape. Concentrate on something else[i/]. Manson reaches towards the ropes, only two feet away…but Ghost stands up and drags him to the middle of the ring. “No escape!” screams King. LET’S GO MANSON, LET’S GO! Manson refuses to tap, but Ghost Machine applies more pressure to his wounded head and neck. His eyes bulge with the pain. “GAR…AAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!” Manson slaps the ring. “He tapped! He tapped!” “He did it! He did it! I can’t believe it! He did it!” =DING DING DING= “Here is your winner…Ghost Machine!” JL Crunk hops into the ring and Ghost falls towards him, using his friend for support. JL holds the ropes open and Ghost climbs out, utterly exhausted, having almost had his neck snapped. “Let’s get you cleaned up, man.” Manson lies in the ring, panting. He slowly rises to his feet, rubs his sore neck, and exits the ring.

As the SWF Smarkdown’s intro winds down, an awkward hush comes over the Croke Park Stadium, as its eighty-two thousand inhibitants patiently wait for the start of the show. When the lights are suddenly cut, a few cheers can be heard from those that are anxious for something, anything, to happen. “HEY HEY!” So goes the intro to Atake FDD’s “Tu Final”, which is shouted over the PA as red, white and green sparks shoot upwards from the stage! A few fans have already caught on and begin booing, and they’re joined by the remained of the audience when El Luchadore Magnifico bursts out from behind the curtain, illuminated by a single spotlight. Expressionless, Magnifico quickly strides down the entrance ramp, his Mexican flag billowing gracefully behind him as he makes his way to the ring. “Ladies and gentlemen...” Funyon begins, his vocal chords not quite warmed up yet, “Please welcome EL LUCHADOOOOOOOORE MAGNIFICOOOOOOO!!” The fans will do nothing of the sort, redoubling their booing efforts as the luchadore approaches the ring. He rolls beneath its bottom rope, stands up, and steps into the center of the ring, where he looks out over the displeased audience with a disgusted scowl. Suddenly, he thrusts his Mexican flag high into the air as the lights go back up, revealing the gigantic crowd in all their glory. Magnifico, still holding his flag, walks to the side of the ring and is handed a microphone. “Well, it looks like we’ve got an...interesting way to start this Smarkdown.” Pete states, trying to hide his disgust. “El Luchadore Magnifico, fresh off of a near killing of Wildchild, is out here hopefully to explain his actions on Lockdown.” “What’s to explain?” King casually acts. “Magnifico snapped and took out his anger on the nearest Carribean guy. Wildchild was just unlucky, is all."” Microphone in hand, ELM walks into the center of the ring, surrounded on all sides by irate Irishmen. As if suddenly becoming aware of the booing, Magnifico suddenly looks up and brings the microhpone to his lips. “Shut the fuck up.” Magnifico suddenly snaps, which doesn’t really help matters any. The fans only grow louder and angrier than ever, but eventually quiet down to the point where ELM can continue speaking. “Like I give a damn what you think.” ELM lectures. “You people will turn on someone at the drop of a hat. You’ve done it to me before, and you’re doing it to me right now.” “The man’s got a point.” King concedes. LDP just scoffs. “Every one of you is a goddamn hypocrite.” Magnifico accuses. “You all cheer for acts of unspeakable violence night in and night out. And I, being the fool I was, put my body on the line every night, trying to please you.” ELM pauses for a moment before continuing. “But it wasn’t good enough for you, was it? None of you give a flying fuck about me unless I’m winning. Oh sure, you’ll show your support during the match, wanting to hedge your bets in case I should edge out a win, but once my shoulders are down on the mat, I’m worthless to you. You’ll just cheer for the guy who won and get on with your lives, not thinking for a second the hell I just went through trying to entertain you.” “Well said!” King cries. “Thank God someone finally got the nerve to step up and say it.” “This is no execuse for nearly killing Wildchild.” Pete counters, annoyed. “I can understand his frustration, but there’s no reason he couldn’t control his emotions.” “I was sick and tired of being the good guy, of holding myself back just to please you.” Magnifico states. “And as I expected, the second I wrapped my hands around Wildchild’s neck, you all turned on me. You don’t give a damn about me. You want to cheer for the showmen, the acrobats, the people who pander to you.” “You sons of bitches.” Magnifico suddenly snaps, unable to control his emotion any longer. The fans boo, but he shouts over them. “DO YOU KNOW WHAT I GAVE UP TO BE HERE?! WHAT I-“ ATTENTION! ALL YOU NIGGAZ! ALL YOU BITCHES! TIME TO PUT DOWN THE CRISTAL, TIME TO TAKE OFF THE ICE FOR A MINUTE… TIME TO THROW A LITTLE MUD IN THIS MOTHERFUCKA… “RAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!” The fans cheer jubilantly for both the interruption and for the telling entrance music, and only grow louder when Wildchild bursts out from behind the curtain, Tag Title wrapped around his waist and an angry scowl painted across his face. Not pausing for an instant, Wildchild quickly makes his way down the ramp, his eyes locked on Magnifico and vice versa. “This won’t end well.” Pete predicts. “I can only imagine how Wildchild feels after ELM, the man who he encouraged during his rough return and the man he used to look up to, turned on him after their match on Lockdown.” “Hey, Wildchild deserves what he got.” King defends. “Sticking around to help Magnifico to his feet, indeed. That’s even more of a slap to the face than using the Mexican Pride Press to get the win.” Wildchild reaches the ring and rolls beneath the bottom rope. He pops to his feet and walks across the ring, staring coldly at Magnifico as he does so. The luchadore is more than happy to return the look, doing so as Wildchild is handed a microhpone. Mike in hand, WC walks right up to the luchadore and speaks. “De only reason I’m not beatin’ de hell outta you right now,” Wildchild begins, “Is ‘cause I feel you’re owed a chance t’explain y’self.” Magnifico scowls and stares right into Wildchild’s eyes. “Fuck you, Dominic.” The crowd boos and WC is visibly struggling to control himself as ELM continues. “How do you think it felt for me when you came to my locker room and tried to make me feel better? You’re nothing. I am a three-time World Champion, and you’re NOTHING. You were just rubbing my losses in my face, you heartless bastard.” ELM pauses for a moment, actually smiling a bit as he sees Wildchild’s reaction. “Do you think you were doing me proud by using the Mexican Pride Press?” Magnifico asks, immediately becoming serious again. “That was a direct slap in the face, and you know it. You were so happy to finally beat your idol than you didn’t give a damn how I felt, the struggles I’ve been through, the sacrifices I made to come back to this goddamned Federation.” “I left my family behind!” ELM shouts, infuriated. “I left them in some shitty border town so I could come out here and make them proud! But it’s YOUR fault I failed, Dominic. It’s your fault and the fault of-“ “YOU’RE GOING T’TALK T’ME ABOUT FAMILY?” Wildchild suddenly snaps, pissed off beyond reason. “M’ENTIRE FAMILY’S DEAD, YOU SON OF A BITCH!” The crowd goes quiet. They’re not used to seeing Wildchild snap like that, and it seems to actually shame them into silence. Even Magnifico seems shocked, as his face softens and he leans back. He watches the incensed Wildchild for a second, expressionless, before leaning back in and bringing the microphone back to his lips. “Boo fucking hoo.” *CRACK* *BRZZZZZZZT* Wildchild slams his microphone into Magnifico’s forehead, knocking the luchadore to the mat as the fans raise a mighty cheer! WC immediately begins to stomp away wildly at Magnifico, but ELM manages to roll out of the ring before Wildchild can land very many strikes. A hand on his forehead, Magnifico backs up the entrance ramp, shouting and cursing at Wildchild in the process. WC just stares at the luchadore, his chest heaving and a furious scowl still painted across his face. “Boo! Foul!” King cries. “That was totally uncalled for!” “You’re insane, King.” Pete replies. “In any case, Wildchild is absolutely furious, and I can’t imagine this is the end of the conflict between these two.” The last image shown before Smarkdown takes a commerical break is Wildchild, leaning over the top rope and looking out after Magnifico...

The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation presents... SWF SMARKDOWN, JULY 25TH, 2005, LIVE FROM THE CROKE PARK STADIUM IN DUBLIN, IRELAND! (8:00 PM EST; 5:00 PM PST. Check local listings.) The SWF continues rumbling through Europe as it stops in the capital of Ireland, Dublin! The Emerald Isle will be overrun by Smartmark superstars as Toxxic is once again a de facto heel! Protestant bastard. MAIN EVENT - CRUISERWEIGHT EXTRAVAGANZA THE EPILOGUE! SUBMISSION MATCH - NONTITLE Toxxic vs. Scott Pretzler © ~ This one’s back for another shot, after Spike Jenkins spoiled it the first time around! Rules: Standard, with cruiserweight addenda, and the stipulation that the match may not end with a pin - countouts and disqualifications are in effect, but the only clean way to win is by forcing your opponent to submit. CRUISERWEIGHT EXTRAVAGANZA THE LATTER! El Luchador Magnifico vs. Zyon ~ Frustrated by his inability to take the duke, ELM turned on Wildchild in their last match, and the fans are definitely disapproving. Zyon, meanwhile, is still one of the hottest prospects in the SWF. Will ELM finally be able to win one, or will Zyon's hot streak continue? Only time will tell. Rules: Standard, with cruiserweight addenda. CRUISERWEIGHT EXTRAVAGANZA THE FORMER! "Hollywood" Spike Jenkins vs. Wildchild ~ Spike is finally off his suspension, and in hot pursuit of two of his former Revolution Zero stablemates. Wildchild is just after a chance to reclaim some dignity after being hammered by El Luchador Magnifico. They face off in a Cruiserweight Match to see which one gets the moral edge going into Ground Zero. Rules: Standard, with cruiserweight addenda. ORBITAL BONE-SHATTERING FOR ALL! Danny Williams vs. Landon “La Cucaracha” Maddix ~ Landon requested this one, and seems to be getting a little big for his britches. Will Danny slap him back into place? Rules: Standard. NONTITLE MATCH “The Dean of Professional Wrestling” Jay Hawke vs. “Urban Legend” Todd Cortez ~ What can we say? Todd sells tickets. Hardcore pure wrestling sells tickets. Todd wrestling a hardcore purist = RATINGS! Rules: Standard. OPENER Manson vs. Ghost Machine ~ Manson was granted a title shot at Jay Hawke at Ground Zero, and tonight he’ll get a chance to tune up against a guy whose style has absolutely no overlap with Hawke’s. Why? Because Ghost Machine gets a chance to impress the booking committee. A win over Manson will surely put him in line for a shot at Hawke’s International Title. Rules: Standard. Opening Promo: El Luchador Magnifico. RUDORUDORUDO! Also Appearing: Johnny Dangerous, and everyone else we’ve been shuttling around Europe! We’re not doing it for our health, guys. PLUS, a special appearance by Smarkdown Commissioner Tom Flesher!

Funyon stumbles into the ring, holding the mic in one hand and an unmarked flask in the other. "Ladiesh and gentlemen," he burbles, leaning against the ropes, "pleash shtand for the national anthem." As I was goin' over the Cork and Kerry mountains I saw Captain Farrell and his money he was countin' I first produced my pistol and then produced my rapier I said "stand and deliver or the devil he may take you" I took all of his money and it was a pretty penny I took all of his money and I brought it home to Molly She swore that she loved me, no never would she leave me For the devil take that woman for you know she tricked me easy Mush-a rain dum a doo dum a da Whack for my daddy-o Whack for my daddy-o There's whiskey in the jar-o Being drunk and weary I went to Molly's chamber Takin' my Molly with me but I never knew the danger For about six or maybe seven in walked Captain Farrell I jumped up, fired off my pistols and I shot him with both barrels Mush-a rain dum a doo dum a da Whack for my daddy-o Whack for my daddy-o There's whiskey in the jar-o Yeah, yeah whiskey! Now some men like the fishin' and some men like the fowlin' And some men like ta hear, ta hear a cannon ball a roarin' Me I like sleepin', 'specially in my Molly's chamber But here I am in prison, here I am with a ball and chain yeah Mush-a rain dum a doo dum a da Whack for my daddy-o Whack for my daddy-o There's whiskey in the jar-o Whiskey in the jar-o Mush-a rain dum a doo dum a da Mush-a rain dum a doo dum a da, hey Mush-a rain dum a doo dum a da Mush-a rain dum a doo dum a da, heyyy (fading) The crowd applauds as Funyon concludes his drunken rendition of “Whiskey in the Jar”, and the applause carries us through to the intro...

The Croke Park Stadium is only about half full with many a patron still taking their seat when a deep baseline starts echoing throughout the arena. "The following contest is scheduled for one fall!" Few people seem to take note, knowing this one won't be on the television broadcast. "Introducing first, hailing from Bavaria and weighing in at Two Hundred and FORTY-NINE pounds, making his Smartmarks Wrestling Federation Debut....Marcus Ward" As Funyon finishes his introduction, Marcus Ward comes out at a slow steady walk, looking straight ahead, not acknowledging anyone. About halfway down the walkway he stops and you can hear his voice speak over the music (Between the Wheels by "Rush") in a brutal sardonic tone “I'm in total control” as he glances from side to side with a knowing smile. He reaches the ring at the same leisurely pace he began slowly climbs between the top two ropes into the ring. He goes to each corner and climbs to the first rope and raises his arms staring down the crowd, challenging them, before stepping to the center crossing his arms at his stomach awaiting his opponent. "And Introducing his opponent from Boone, North Carolina weighing in at 220 lbs, Martin "BIG COUNTRY" Hunt!" Big Country comes down the aisle, baseball bat in one hand...and lifted up high in the other is a big bottle of irish whiskey which he doesn't hesitate to take a drink of as he walks to the ring. Tonight Martin Hunt is going to be playing crowd favorite, though he doesn't hesitate to mock a few fans before reaching the ring apron. Martin slides into the ring and stands up, the ref patds down both competitors, warns Big Country about his bat and signals for the bell. DING! DING! DING! Wasting no time Martin quickly shoulder tackles the newcomer and starts wailing on him with vicious haymaker after haymaker. After he's seen enough, the referee intervenes between the two warning Big Country about the fists. He just flashes a smarmy smile and lets a vicious left boot to the face of Ward, who's been caught totally off guard by this bar-room brawl of a beginning. Several more boots to the face follow the first, then a toe in the throat for a 4-count and yet another warning from the referee. Big Country jaw's to the official even as he lifts MW up by his hair and quickly gets him in a chinlock. From there he continues to talk to ref, distracting him as he begins to gouge at the eyes of Marcus Ward, then getting his thumbs in the throat to continue Wards warm welcome to the SWF. Ward's air rushes out of his body as his sternum crashes to the canvas off of a brutal elbow to the back of his spine from Big Country. Hunt applies a reverse arm bar, leaning across MW's body for leverage, eliminating the opportunities for escape. With no ropes to grab onto for the break, the referee gets down and starts asking him for the signal to the bell, will he submit? The crowd gets a little interested at this point, a few people laughing that this rookie is going to get schooled by an arm-bar in his debut match. Big Country increases the pressure some more, grinning as he has control over this match, wondering why this kid even bothered to come out. Marcus screams in pain, his shoulder looking ready to pop from the socket. He sets his free arm on the canvasand pushes. His only chance is to muscle his way out of this hold. A few front-row diehards laugh at the idea that this guy can simply push his way out with one hand. The muscles and veins onm MW's free arm stick out at the strain. His stomach lifts off the canvas about an inch, and Big Country shakes his head, looking a bit panicked at this point as Marcus pushes again...and this time he gets it all the way up, tossing Hunt over his shoulder to the canvas. Ward clutches his shoulder, clearly a bit damaged by that. But now he has an opportunity to go toe to toe with this guy. Even as he nurses his shoulder, Big Country rushes with a shoulder block again, attempting to catch Ward the same way he did to start the match. Not this time for Martin Hunt, as he's easily lifted into the air By Ward, spun around tilt-a-whirl and right into a devastating backbreaker. The crowd watches on as Ward doesn't let go of Hunt after the backbreaker, instead lifting him high into the air and bringing him down on the same knee again. Holding Big Country chest high, Ward stares around at the crowd and lifts him a third time with his right knee thrusting deep into the spine of Hunt. Ward smiles lifts and tosses Martin "Big Country" Hunt right over the top rope to the outside, then tapping the side of his temple with his forefinger, showing everyone he knew what he was doing all along. Big Country rolls around a few times, clutching his ribs and back in pain, as he looks up at the arena lights, and spots Ward out of the corner of his eye, standing with arms crossed in the center of the ring. Letting him back in. Hunt pulls himself up at the count of 7 and slides into the ring, circling Ward a bit more cautiously now. The foes circle one another for several seconds, before both grappling into a lock up. Hunt pulls Ward into a side headlock, but is pushed off of it into the ropes. Hunt springs off the ropes, right back at Ward with arm outstretched for a momentum-swinging lariat. The crowd, a few more patrons into this match now, gasps as Ward is standing there waiting for Hunt and encloses his arms around his lower back tightly and lifts him up into a crushing bear hug. Now Big Country finds himself locked in to a hold he may not be able to break, equidistant from each rope in no-man's land with this newcomer's forearms driving into his back and ribs, squeezing pain into his body, and precious oxygen out. Each second that pasts, the crowd grows quieter, the tension of the match drawing them in. Ward seems solid as a rock, not tiring in this hold, as Big Country grimaces and groans as his spine becomes more compacted and ribs reach the stress point. Suddenly without warning, Ward grips tighter, leans forward a step then launches backwards into a belly to belly suplex tossing Hunt unexpectedly into the canvas, what little air left whooshing out of Big Country as the crowd gasps at the ferocity of that slam. Ward rolls up and smiles, nonchalantly digging an elbow into Hunt's abdomen as a cover. ONE! TWO! THRE.. A shoulder lifted up at the last second saves hunt from the unexpected loss, but Marcus just shakes his head, pulls Big Country up and delivers a uppercut forearm to the chin that rocks MH into the ropes where he leans trying to catch his breath. Ward casually walks up to him, pushes him further into the ropes then whips him across the ring. Springing off the other side of the ring, Hunt tries to lift his elbow to deliver a tide-turning shot but gets nothing but air as Ward ducks, lifts...into a spinning tilt-a-whirl again, this time he rotates big country around twice to the left while flipping him over so he's facing towards the ropes, even as Marcus is himself spinning, pivoting then OOOOOooooHHhh The crowd cries in pain for hunt as a devastating reverse spinebuster launches Big country neck-first into the top rope, where he then springs off to his back, clutching his throat for air. Ward rotates his left arm a bit seemingly trying to get the leftover kinks out from that early match submission, then goes down to the face-down Martin Hunt with a reverse arm bar of his own. A few seconds into it, he changes position and puts a leg scissors on Big Country's arm to hold him down, and starts digging his elbow right into the lower back of his foe. The scream that comes from Hunt at the onset of the maneuver shows just how much damage has been done to his back already. Martin Hunt starts flailing his free arm, trying to get out of this unpleasant position, his legs kicking to distract himself from the pain, he pushes up with any leverage he can get...and rolls Ward onto his back, Hunt quickly clutches for MW's arm and gets it, spinning off of MW's stomach and lifting Ward up into a deep standing arm bar. Big Country is pulled near the ropes by Ward who reaches and manages to get the rope break of the arm bar. Four-counts by the ref later he is forcibly separated from MW who clutches at his shoulder...just as Martin Hunt gives him a boot to the face. Martin gives a cocky half-smile and slings Ward off the ropes across the ring, then chases after to hang him out to dry with a brutal clothesline, as ward does a complete flip to end up on his stomach. Hunt goes to the corner, takes a big swig of irish whiskey and gulps it down as he climbs the turnbuckles to the top, getting ready to "Donkey Punch" his prone opponent. Marcus shakes off the clothesline, spies Hunt getting ready to jump and taps his forehead. As Big Country jumps Ward climbs to his feet...but instead of getting out of the way he stands right where he was...and catches Big Country into another bear hug grip, holding his ground to the momentum of 220-lbs right on his stomach. Marcus walks in a small circle with MH tightening his grip before launching another solid belly-to-belly suplex. Ward's normal smile shows up again as he paces around the ring, watching his opponent. Hunt seems woozy, holding his ribs and back and seeming totally out of sorts with this opponent, even as he tries to pull himself back up and into the contest. MW has no plans for that to happen and begins launching knees into the gut of Martin, pushing him back into the corner and pushing his air out of his lungs once again. Ward gets his hands right under the ribs of Big Country grips with his fingers into those ribs (A painful hold in and of itself) and then lifts him up into the air, showing off his enormous lower body strength, as he turns around towards the center of the ring, holding Big Country by the ribs. Ward then rears his head back and SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMASH, SMACK. Five headbutts right into the sternum, each one audible in the arena, even over the now raucous crowd. A small smile by Ward then he drops Big Country stomach first onto an outstretched knee. Hunt's lungs having been bashed to bits he gasps for breath on the mat, a healthy stapping man sounding like a smoker having an asthma attack. Marcus stands and waits for Big Country with his arms crossed, the crowd booing his sadistic smile, now fully against this cocky and torturous man. Hunt spots the smile out of the corner of his eye and shoulder tackles him, which Marcus does not see again, losing his footing and landing on his back, flailing his arms trying to avoid...the ARM BAR which Big Country locks in again, rolling Ward over to his stomach, getting the reverse arm bar locked in again, this time showing no signs of letting up...but Marcus has him this time, getting good push with his off arm and rolling the maneuver over and releasing the pressure on the joint, quickly standing up and backing away from Big Country...Who even faster launches a boot to Wards unexpectant face, stunning him. Ward bends over clutching at his nose, checking for blood. Hunt takes the opportunity, slaps his thigh, springs off the rope running towards Ward with a running leaping scissor kick, aiming to decapitate the cocky newbie...before Ward lifts his head out of the way leaving him behind a confused Big country. Marcus grabs him with both arms from behind and lifts him right up onto his shoulders...and holds him there, spins around once and starts applying the pressure to the back and neck. A torture rack? The entire crowd hushes as Marcus Ward stands in the middle of the ring locked on with Total Control. Hunt screams, his back already in severe pain and quickly tells the ref to ring the bell. DING! DING! DING! The referee signals for the bell, then starts to inform Ward that he needs to release the hold. Marcus gives him that smile, and swings the contorted body of Hunt that rests on his shoulders right at the ref knocking him out. Ward applies the pressure for several more seconds to the disgust of the crowd. Then he stops with the pressure, Hunt lying on his shoulders limp. Looking around the arena at all the jeering fans, Marcus Ward screams "THAT WAS TOTAL CONTROL". Then he grips Big Country again, lifts him up over his head in a military press and holds it for a few moments....then drops the already brutalized opponent right onto his shoulder, using the gravity momentum to feed into a furious spinebuster that silences the crowd. Martin Hunt lies motionless in the ring as the victorius Marcus Ward walks off to the unfriendly stares of a silent crowd.

-=-=-=- The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation presents... SWF STORM, JULY 15th, 2005, LIVE FROM THE CASSA ROSSO SEX CLUB IN AMSTERDAM'S RED LIGHT DISTRICT! (8:00 PM EST; 5:00 PM PST. Check local listings.) http://www.hiptravelguide.com/amsterdam/php/article-15.html The SWF's World Tour continues to a city so bad it makes Las Vegas blush - Amsterdam! Unfortunately, the Amsterdam Arena Plaza was booked, so we had to turn to one of the seedier venues, located deep in the heart of the Red Light District - the Cassa Rosso! In order for Storm to actually air in America, no illicit shows will be going on (in view of the cameras), but the lovely ladies and pathetic patrons of Cassa Rosso have graciously opened their club for the SWF to hold Storm (in exchange for good seats) - tonight we give Hardcore a whole new meaning! Note: I was, for obvious reasons, unable to find a picture of what the inside of Cassa Rosso looks like. If anyone can offer some general idea of what the interior of a club like this looks like, feel free. Send everything (promos, marked matches, bribes of attractive women, etc. to Chuck Woolery. -=-=-=- MAIN EVENT - Best o' Five Toxxic vs. Scott Pretzler © --> Oy. Spike Jenkins. Yep. SO ANYWAY, Toxxic and Pretzler's Cruiserweight Title match had something of a disappointing conclusion, and I think it's a safe bet that a rematch is in order, but this is Storm, and STORM IS HARDCORE! The last time these two met under Hardcore rules, it was anything but - at least, until Scott Pretzler renegged on the agreement to fight clean. They go at it again tonight, and I seriously doubt Toxxic's going to want to play nice this time! Rules: Hardcore~! Word Limit: 6000 Send to: janusd -=-=-=- El Luchadore Magnifico vs. Landon "La Cucaracha" Maddix -- Two men who've fallen on what some might call "hard times". Magnifico has gone 0 for 2 in the Triple Champ Round Robin, leading many to believe (perhaps even himself) that he can't cut it anymore. And as for Maddix - well, his friendships and Martial Law have fallen apart - it's just a mess. Both men are fighting tonight to regain a little credit to their name, and maybe to let off some RAGE~! Rules: Hardcore~! Word Limit: 5500 Send to: Justice -=-=-=- Wildchild vs. Mak Francis -- Something fishy's going on with Wild and Dangerous - I suspect we'll find out what on Storm, but for the time being, we've got two Main Event caliber wrestlers both coming off hard losses - Mak lost to Johnny Dangerous, and Wildchild won-but-also-lost because of Johnny Dangerous. Foul trickery and tomfoolery is afoot, but in the meantime, these two warriors fight to earn back a little of what they lost on Smarkdown! Rules: Hardcore~! Word Limit: 5000 Send to: The Superstar -=-=-=- Manson vs. Jay Hawke © -- Whoops-a-daisy. Arch Griffon's got personal business to tend to, so the awesome-tastic team of Griffonosity is on hold. But that doesn't mean Manson's just going to sit on his hands - I mean, he might sit on his hands. I dunno. You'd have to ask him. But he won't be doing that on Storm, because he'll be going one-on-one with the reigning International Champion, who bested him in a tag match on Smarkdown! This bout isn't for the title, but who knows? A win from Manson could lead to... things... Rules: Hardcore~! Word Limit: 4500 Send to: Chuck Woolery -=-=-=- Todd Cortez vs. Ghost Machine -- After a hot start, Ghost Machine's winning streak has gone cold. Tonight, he fights for a chance to turn his frown upside down, and in a big way - besting a man like Todd Cortez won't be easy, but it could do wonders for Ghosty's career. Rules: Hardcore~! Word Limit: 4500 Send to: realitycheck -=-=-=- House Rules - Red Light Rumble for the SWF Hardcore Championship Zyon © vs. JJ Johnson First off, an apology to the participants - I am so sorry for this match. But tradition dictates Storm has a House Rules Hardcore Title Match, and I am not one to fuck with tradition. Since Storm is emenating from the Prostitution Capital of the World, we thought of many disgusting and degrading things we could have our wrestlers do in the name of entertainment - unfortunately, 99% of those ideas would never make it on American Television, so we had to make due with something tamer. Storm's Hardcore Title match will be fought as a Hardcore Intergender Tornado Tag Team Match. Before the bout begins, Zyon will pick one of Cassa Rosso's finest... erm... employees... and JJ will do the same. These ladies will be your partners, boys. If Zyon or his woman scores the pin, he retains the HC title. If JJ or his woman scores the pin, JJ becomes the new HC Champion. Rules: Hardcore Tornado Tag. Word Limit: 5000 Send to: chirs3 -=-=-=- Opening Promo: Landon Maddix! -=-=-=- Also Appearing: Johnny Dangerous! Probably Tom Flesher! Maybe Spike Jenkins! If it'll help sell tickets, let's say Cyclone Comet! Some of that, possibly all, MAYBE MORE, on STORM!

Version 1 was some form of superplex - I originally said Slingshot, but I later found out that what I thought was a Slingshot Suplex was actually something different.

Galatea's Birthday > All other Birthdays.

Correct. Falls count anywhere. We should start a betting pool on how many people get pinned in the genital fountain. I say three.

1. I really like the WC/Ejiro flashbacks all throughout the show. Very nice way to build to the match. 2. Danny/Magnifico = closer than something that's really close. The winning match was great, but I also encourage the non-winner to post his match in a non-winning match thread, because it really was a good read, especially the ending. 3. Tonight was great for plot advancement, but with WC/Ejiro's ending and Toxx/Pretz's ending, I kinda feel cheated in a way.

The final commercial break of SWF Smarkdown comes to an end, and in its place appears an awe-inspiring shot of the Parken Stadion, packed to the brim with tens of thousands of overexcited Danes. They murmur anxiously, energized by the show that’s unfolded in front of their eyes and ready to take in the evening’s main event. “UNO!” BOOM! “DOS!” BOOM! “TRES!” BOOM! “CUATRO!” BOOM! “RAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!” A mighty cheer rises from the stands, drowning out the Mexican voice after “uno”, but even that impressive noise is trumped by the pyros that explode upwards from each turnbuckle in conjuction with each shouted word. As Bunch of Believers’ “Mission Trip to Mexico” hits the speakers, El Luchadore Magnifico bursts out from behind the curtains, waving his Mexican flag proudly and smiling broadly at the capacity crowd. He pauses on the top of the entrance ramp and strikes an impressive pose, spurring untold numbers of the Danish population to whip out their disposable cameras and snap photos of the kooky luchadore. “The following contest is scheduled for one fall, and is this evening’s MAIN EVENT!” Funyon bellows. “Introducing first, from Mexico City, Mexico, weighing in at two hundred and ten pounds...EL LUCHADOOOOOOOOOOOORE MAGNIFICOOOOOOOOO!!” Upon hearing his name, Magnifico breaks his pose and strides down the entrance ramp, slapping as many fans’ hands as he can in the process. As ELM approaches the ring, he suddenly breaks into a run and dives beneath the bottom rope, sliding belly-first into the middle of the squared circle. Magnifico immediately pops to his feet, heads over to the nearby corner, and ascends its turnbuckles, where he resumes his flag-waving to the approval of the crowd. “And welcome back to SWF Smarkdown, everyone!” LDP cheerfully greets. “Tonight’s Main Event features Danny Williams taking on El Luchadore Magnifico, marking the end of the Round Robin between these two competitors and Toxxic!” “And, as expected, Magnifico’s performance been absolutely pathetic.” King declares. “He’s the only one without a win thiu far, and that’s not going to change tonight. You’ve got to admit, Pete, so far the Mexican’s return hasn’t lived up to anyone’s standards. Hell, even I’m disappointed in him.” “Well, it’s true that he has struggled somewhat.” Pete admits. “But I can see that turning around tonight with a big win over Danny Williams, which, coincidentally, would give each competitor in this Round Robin a record of 1-1. If Danny should win, he’d be the victor with a record of 2-0.” Back in the ring, Magnifico hops back onto the canvas and hands the ref his flag. Keeping his eyes locked on the entrance ramp, ELM begins his pre-match warmup, stretching out his muscles as everyone in the arena waits for Magnifico’s opponent with baited breath. The chant starts as a whisper, slowly building in strength as the arena sits in silence. But when the oh-too-familiar bass line of In Flames’ “Jester’s Dance” bounces over the speakers, the chant immediately grows into something powerful, primal, and LOUD. “DAN-E! DAN-E! DAN-E!” The chant grows until every fan in the arena is shouting the name of Danny Williams. But when the epic power chords kick in and the man himself steps out from behind the curtain, the chant breaks down into elated cheering, giddy to just catch a glimpse of the former Three-Time World Champion. “And now, from Louisville, Kentucky, weighing in at two hundred and sixty-five pounds...” Funyon takes a breath, “DAAAAAAAAAAAAN-EEEEEEE WILLLLLLIAMSSSSSSSSS!!” Apparently blind and deaf to it all, Danny purposefully strides down the ramp and towards the ring, surrounded on both sides by his devoted fans. When Williams reaches the ring, he climbs onto the apron and immediately vaults over the top rope, landing right in front of Magnifico. ELM’s eyes meet Danny’s, but Magnifico just continues stretching, acting as though Williams isn’t even there. A bit of grin crosses Danny’s face as he stares down the luchadore, who has no idea how badly Williams wants to get the contest started. Pete shudders. “Danny may not be intimidating Magnifico, but it’s not for lack of trying. That’s one of the coldest stares I’ve ever seen one human being give another.” “Gimme a break.” King counters, rolling his eyes. “You’re a wrestling commentator and former wrestler, for God’s sake.” “Hmm, good point.” LDP thoughtfully replies. “Okay, maybe it’s not the coldest, but it’s up there. Probably.” Seeing that everything is in order, the ref turns to the timekeeper and signals for the bell. DING DING DING Upon hearing the bell, Magnifico finishes his stretching and takes a few steps back...before lunging forward and lashing out with his fist, driving it into Danny’s chin! Taken by surprise, Williams eats three more punches before retaliating with one of his own. ELM tries to brawl with Danny, but Williams’ strikes are much more powerful and he’s easily overmatched. Magnifico soon finds himself backpeddling into the ropes, dazed by Danny’s blows. Mercifully, Williams eventually stops bashing Magnifico’s face in, opting instead to grab ELM by the arm and whip him across the ring. Magnifico rushes across the ring, bounces off of the far ropes, and charges back towards Danny, who’s waiting impatiently for him. As ELM approaches, Williams turns and drives his elbow backwards, looking to slam it into Magnifico’s forehead! However, Magnifico’s able to duck beneath said elbow and skid to a halt behind Danny. ELM turns towards Williams and vice versa, but as Magnifico turns, he’s driving his arm forward and at Danny... *CHOP* SMACK! “WHOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!” ELM’s arm slices into Danny’s chest with a Knife-Edge Chop, drawing the requisite cheer from the pleased fans. Magnifico draws his arm back once more, drives it forward and... *CHOP* SMACK! “WHOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!” Another Knife-Edge Chop, and Danny should be reeling! But, when Magnifico looks up at Danny, all he sees is a pissed off brawler, unaffected by the chops save for his newly glowing red chest. ELM barely has time to gulp before Danny drives his elbow into Magnifico’s forehead, sending him stumbling away from Williams and into the corner. “And that’s the first lesson the Mexican learns tonight.” King observes. “No one’s going to outstrike Danny Williams, not no way no how.” “Very true.” LDP agrees. “Danny wasn’t even phased by Mag’s Knife-Edge Chops, but ELM definitely felt that elbow from Williams. He’s definitely not gonna win-“ “Absolutely correct!” King interrupts. “Very good point-“ “BY USING STRIKES.” LDP finishes, annoyed. King just looks away and pouts. ELM falls against the corner’s turnbuckles back first, leaving him particularly prone to an attack from Danny. Grinning to himself, Williams draws his arm back, throws it forward, and... *CHOP* SMACK! “WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!” ELM grabs his chest and doubles over, pain surging through his body as he feels the effects of the stiffest Chop he’s ever received. Danny leisurely pushes ELM back into the corner, pulls his arm back once more, and... *CHOP* SMACK! “WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!” “Now that’s more like it!” King declares, obviously pleased. Magnifico’s body is rocked by the force of the Chop and he nearly falls out of the corner, but Williams isn’t having any of that. Before ELM can do anything, Danny grabs him by the arm and whips the luchadore across the ring, sending him rushing across the ring and towards the far corner. Williams runs right after Magnifico, striding only a step or two behind the luchadore. ELM turns and crashes back-first into the corner, just in time to see Danny charging up at him like a rampaging bull! Williams throws his entire body into Magnifico’s, crushing the luchadore against the corner! The fans OHHH! in unison as ELM stumbles out of the corner, doozy from being outright bulldozed by a two hundred and sixty-five pound rampaging Kentuckian. With Magnifico dazed, Danny is able to easily pull him into a Suplex position, and almost as easily heave ELM into the air, as if for a Vertical Suplex. However, as soon as Magnifico is perpendicular to the ground, he wriggles out of Danny’s grip! ELM twists his body in mid-air and lands behind Danny, facing the same direction as Williams. The second he’s on his feet, Magnifico grabs Danny around the waist and falls backwards onto the mat, pulling Williams down with him and pinning his shoulders down to the mat with a Reverse Roll Up! ELM flips over so that he’s practically sitting on Danny’s BUTT and legs, keeping him pressed against the canvas as the surprised fans cheer for the sudden pin! In the meantime, the ref gets into position and begins counting, doing so as Williams struggles wildly to escape the pin... ONE! TWO...No! Williams kicks his legs out and breaks free of the pin, sending Magnifico stumbling a step or two forward in the process. “Nice reversal from Magnifico.” LDP comments. “Even if there wasn’t much chance of getting a pin from that Rollup, it at least broke Danny’s momentum and gave ELM a chance to gather himself.” “Yeah, ‘cause all the Mexican needed was a moment to clear his head.” King snidely counters. “Danny sure doesn’t have fifty more pounds of muscle than he does or anything, no sir.” Magnifico steadies himself and turns to face Danny, who’s trying to get back to his feet as quick as he can. However, ELM gets to him before he can stand, as he grabs Danny by the arm and pulls him the rest of the way. Magnifico then uses his grip to try and whip Danny across the ring, but Williams manages to easily reverse the maneuver. ELM rushes towards the far ropes, but as he’s bouncing off of them, Danny charges right up to the luchadore and levels him with a Running Elbow, striking him square in the nose! The impact and timing of the strike knocks Magnifico up and over the top rope, causing him to tumble helplessly to the outside while the impressed crowd cheers happily. Pleased with himself, Danny watches as ELM crashes back-first onto the thinly padded floor, sending a searing jolt of pain through the luchadore’s body. After a second, Williams hits the mat and rolls beneath the bottom rope, instigating the referee’s count by stepping out on the floor. “And Danny immediately takes back control of the match with a perfectly timed Running Elbow!” LDP announces. “He hit that at the exact right moment to drive Magnifico over the top rope and to the outside.” “Nothing I enjoy more than seeing Mag get his nose broken.” King muses. “Then again, I guess that means the next time Williams slams his elbow into the Mexican’s nose, it’ll just be a pile of unconnected cartilage. And that’s no fun.” Danny heads over to Magnifico, who’s struggling back to his feet while keeping pressure on his nose, doing his best to prevent it from bleeding. Williams graciously grabs him by the arm and helps ELM to his feet, right before shoving him back-first into the nearby guardrail. Magnifico arches his back and releases a slight cry of pain, surrounded on all sides by fans whose main concern at the moment is getting on TV. “ONE!” With ELM up against the rail, Danny rears back with his elbow and then drives it forward and directly into Magnifico’s skull, rattling his brain with a Bionic Elbow! Dazed, ELM pushes himself off of the rail and stumbles towards the ring, determined to get back into the squared circle and away from Danny. Williams isn’t having any of that, though, as he grabs Magnifico from behind before he can get into the ring and pulls him into a Rear Waistlock. “Man, Danny’s just pummeling Magnifico with those elbow strikes!” LDP declares, slightly concerned. “He’s mixing it up, too!” King adds, delighted. “He’s already broken the Mexican’s nose, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he adds a fractured skull to the list of injuries by the end of the night.” “TWO!” Magnifico struggles to escape Danny’s grip, but can’t do so before Williams lifts him up into the air for a German Suplex! However, as soon as ELM’s feet leave the ground, he begins throwing his elbow back wildly, repeatedly slamming it into the side of Williams’ head in a desperate attempt to escape. At first, Danny is determined to maintain the grip, but eventually, he’s overcome by the ferocity and number of the strikes, and his hold weakens enough for ELM to escape. “THREE!” As soon as Magnifico’s feet hit the ground, he hops onto the apron in front of him, his opponent too busy shaking off the effects of the elbow strikes to do anything about it. When Danny does shake off said effects, he looks up to see Magnifico leaping and flipping backwards off of the apron for a Moonsault Press! ELM makes perfect contact with the Press, slamming his body into Danny’s and knocking him to the ground! A pleased round of cheers rises from the fans as Magnifico immediately pops back to his feet, leaving a dazed Williams on the ground below. “Magnifico hits a breathtaking Moonsault Press!” LDP declares, impressed. “Danny got a little too greedy going for that German Suplex on the outside, and ELM made him pay for it.” “Ridiculous. There’s no reason the Mexican should have escaped that hold.” King responds, annoyed. “I liken his elbow strikes to being struck by a belligerent toddler.” “FOUR!” Seeing that Danny’s going to be a second getting on his feet, Magnifico rolls into the ring and then immediately rolls back out, doing so to reset the ref’s count. The referee makes a note of it and watches ELM head over to Danny, who’s struggling back to his feet. As soon as Williams stands, Magnifico grabs him by the arm and the back of the head, using his grip to lead Danny over to the nearby corner post. ELM drives Williams’ head forward, looking to slam it into the pole, but Danny manages to throw his hands up right before impact, keeping an arm’s length between his forehead and the steel ring post! “ONE!” Before ELM can do anything about the situation, Danny takes a hand off of the pole and uses it to grab Magnifico by the back of the head. Williams then drives ELM’s noggin forward and into the pole forehead-first, creating a sickening SMACK! upon impact as skull hits steel. “Ouch! Danny turned the tables on Magnifico in painful fashion, and ELM has suffered another stiff blow to the head.” LDP announces, cringing. “Solid work from Williams.” King admits. “By the time he gets around the hitting the Axe Bomber, there’ll already be a decent-sized crack in the Mexican’s skull.” “TWO!” Magnifico turns and stumbles away from Danny, Williams only a couple steps behind him. In fact, before he can get too far, Danny grabs Magnifico by his tights and the nape of his neck, running forward with ELM in that hold! Williams then throws Magnifico forward, causing him to hit the ground hard and skid-chest-first across the padding! Unfortunately for the luchadore, Danny threw him down right in front of the guardrail, which Magnifico crashes into head-first! The crowd releases an impressed yet concerned OHHHHHH! as ELM curls up and cradles his head, which once again pounds in agony. “Whoo!” King cries, unable to contain himself. “Danny puts his strength to good use, as he tosses the Mexican across the floor like a rock across a pond!” “THREE!” Not content to just get back into the ring and see if his opponent will beat the count, Williams walks up to Magnifico and helps him to his feet, receiving no resistance from the lugubrious luchadore. Once ELM is on his feet, Danny rolls him into the ring and then rolls right after him. Williams then covers Magnifico, hooking his leg as the ref slides into position and begins counting. ONE! TWO...No! Magnifico kicks out at two and a half, drawing a pop from the fans who didn’t want the match to end just yet. “ELM definitely took a nasty knock to the head, but it wasn’t enough to keep him down.” LDP observes. “Just as well.” King replies, smiling. “I can sit here and watch Danny beat the hell out of him all night. Popcorn?” LDP pauses, then takes a handful. The two commentators munch on the salted corn snack while Williams, undeterred by the lack of a pinfall, climbs back to his feet and brings Magnifico up with him. Danny whips ELM as soon as he’s standing, sending him rushing across the ring and towards the far ropes. Magnifico bounces off of said ropes and charges back towards Danny, who greets the luchadore by grabbing him and quickly hoisting up into the air! With Magnifico in front of and perpendicular to him, Danny suddenly falls forward, driving ELM back-first into the canvas with a Forward Falling Slam! All of Williams’ weight falls on Magnifico’s gut during the slam, knocking the wind out of the luchadore as Danny pins him! The fans cheer for the slam and for the possible pinfall as the ref slides into position and begins counting. ONE! TWO...No! Magnifico gets a shoulder up at two and a half, effectively ending most of the fans’ cheering. “Good on Magnifico for kicking out,” LDP begins, “But he’s not going to win this match-“ “Agreed!” King jubilantly declares. “BY STAYING ON THE DEFENSIVE.” Pete snaps. “And knock that off.” “You’re no fun.” King sulks. Determined as ever, Williams climbs back to his feet, this time leaving Magnifico on the canvas. As soon as he stands, Danny heads over to the nearby corner and immediately ascends its turnbuckles, drawing an anticipatory wave of cheers from the capacity crowd. Williams quickly reaches the top turnbuckle and steadies himself on it, wanting to make sure he’s balanced before doing whatever it is he’s going to do. His plan becomes obvious after a second, however, as Williams leaps off of the turnbuckle and falls towards Magnifico, his elbow extended for a Top Rope Falling Elbow! Danny’s bathed in flashbulb light as he falls like a rock at the luchadore...who suddenly and unexpectedly rolls out of Williams’ path! Danny’s right elbow collides violently with the mat, drawing a sympathetic wince from the audience. Williams cries out in pain and immediately grabs his elbow, rolling around on the canvas while Magnifico lies motionless a few feet away. “Goddamn. Danny shoulda known better than to try that.” King comments. “All Flying Elbows pale in comparison to mine. It’s not even worth trying to top it.” “Well, there’s that.” LDP interjects, rolling his eyes. “There’s also the fact that missing the elbow not only severely slows down Danny’s momentum, it does serious damage to his elbow, a body part imperative to his usual attack plan!” After a few seconds, both men start to shake off their respective injuries and start climbing back to their feet, spurred on by the cheers pouring in from every part of the crowd. Danny gets back to his feet a second before Magnifico, giving him the chance to step behind the luchadore as he’s standing. As ELM turns towards Danny, Williams is doing some spinning of his own, rotating three hundred and sixty degrees and winding up for the Rolling Elbow! Danny completes his spin and drives his elbow forward...which Magnifico deftly dodges! ELM cocks his head to the side and reaches up at the same time, grabbing Danny’s arm as it flies over his shoulder! Moving quickly, Magnifico then maneuvers Danny’s arm into a Chicken Wing and wraps his arm around Williams’ head, immediately drawing an premature pop from the excited audience! Magnifico then falls to his knees, pulling Danny down with him and slamming his shoulder into Williams’ chin! Danny snaps backwards off of Magnifico’s shoulder and falls to the mat, stunned by the force of Montezuma’s Revenge! Their expectations fufilled, the fans cheer mightily as ELM remains on his knees, his chest heaving as he watches Danny’s unmoving form. Once he catches his breath, Magnifico crawls over to Williams and covers him, hooking the leg as the ref falls into position and begins counting. ONE! TWO...No! Williams throws an arm up and immediately winces in pain, reminded of the damage that’s been sustained to his elbow. “Montezuma’s Revenge may not have kept Danny down for the three count,” Pete begins, “But it was still a smart move to use, as the Chicken Wing applied for the maneuver puts a little more stress on Williams’ elbow.” “Like that was even intentional.” King counters. “You give the Mexican too much credit. It’s obvious to me that he just tries whatever comes to mind and hopes beyond hope that he can sneak out a win with his pathetic array of moves.” “Bitter much?” LDP asks. King scowls, but doesn’t say anything. ELM slowly rolls off of Williams and begins pushing himself to his feet, still feeling the variety of shots he took to the skull earlier in the match. Once Magnifico is on his feet, he grabs Danny and pulls him to his, then uses his grip to try and whip Williams. However, Danny’s not too dazed to reverse a whip, and does so with gusto to send Magnifico rushing across the ring and towards the far corner. A second after the whip, Danny dashes after Magnifico, closing in on the luchadore as he crashes back-first into the corner. But as Williams approaches, Magnifico suddenly throws a boot in the air, slamming it into the charging Kentuckian’s face! Williams spins and stumbles away from the corner, giving Magnifico a chance to hop onto the second turnbuckle behind him. The second Danny turns back to face him, ELM leaps off of the turnbuckle and extends his arm, looking to drive it into Williams’ neck with a Flying Clothesline! However, Danny manages to sidestep the flying luchadore and grab him in mid-air, before spinning around and violently slamming Magnifico into the canvas with a Powerslam! The fans OHHH! in surprise as Danny immediately covers the luchadore, cueing the ref to hit his knees and make the count. ONE! TWO...Magnifico gets a shoulder up at two and a half. ELM turns on to his side and gasps in pain, the full effects of the Powerslam just now being felt. “Fantastic reversal from Williams!” LDP declares. “Danny counters ELM’s Flying Clothesline with a mighty Powerslam, and he’s immediately back in control of the match.” “Yeah, ELM had power for a good thirty seconds before being overthrown.” King comments. “A new record for him, if I’m not mistaken.” Danny pushes himself off of the mat and scowls slightly, thinking that the Powerslam would have had more of an effect. As it is, Williams grabs Magnifico and quickly stands, pulling the luchadore to his feet as he does so. Danny then whips ELM into the far ropes, which Magnifico bounces off of before charging back towards Williams. As Magnifico approaches, Williams lashes out with a Clothesline, which ELM manages to dodge beneath while still running! Magnifico doesn’t slow for a second, heading for the ropes behind Danny. ELM bounces off of them as Williams spins to face him, but as soon as Magnifico comes off of the ropes, he suddenly leaps into the air at his opponent! ELM kicks his feet out in mid-air, slamming them into Danny’s damaged elbow with a Running Dropkick! The fans cheer for the precision Dropkick as Williams shouts out in pain in frustration. In the meantime, Magnifico pops back to his feet and immediately grabs Williams arm, pulling high above his head and holding it there. ELM then suddenly and violently jerks Danny’s arm downward, driving it into his shoulder with an Armbreaker! Williams snatches his arm free and clutches his elbow, struggling to deal with the pain that flows freely through it. “Looks like Magnifico’s decided on his gameplan for the rest of the match.” LDP notes. “And I’ve gotta say, it’s a fairly clever one. If ELM can do enough damage to Danny’s arm, it’s gonna be real hard for Williams to hit the Axe Bomber.” “Pshaw!” King remarks in an unusually jovial tone. “I can’t imagine Magnifco’s making Danny even wince in pain. Maybe there’s a twinge, but that’s it.” Not wanting to give Danny a chance to recover, Magnifico comes up from behind him and grabs Williams by the arm. But as soon as he ELM does that, Danny spins around and lashes out with his other arm, slamming it into Magnifico’s neck with an unexpected Clothesline! The fans cheer for the surprise counter as ELM is knocked to the ground, gasping to get breath through his smashed-in windpipe. “Whoa!” LDP shouts, startled. “Danny had just about enough of Magnifico’s arm work, and countered with one hell of a Clothesline! Even when using his weaker arm, Williams’ strikes are not to be taken lightly.” With ELM momentarily incapacitated, Danny gets a second to gather his thoughts and deal with his injured arm. Williams ignores the pain that plagues his elbow and walks over to Magnifico, who’s finally caught his breath and is struggling to stand. Danny generously assists ELM, pulling him to his feet and then using his grip to whip Magnifico into the nearby corner. ELM crashes back-first and hard into the corner’s turnbuckles, the force of the impact causing him to stumble back towards Danny. Williams turns away from Magnifico as he approaches, and once he’s within a few feet, Danny plants his hands on the mat and kicks his legs back, slamming them into ELM’s gut with a Mule Kick! The force of the blow knocks Magnifico backwards and into the corner as the fans cheer for the ridiculously powerful kick. ELM absently leans up against the corner as he doubles over in pain and struggles to get some air back in his lungs. “As ridiculous as it may look, that Mule Kick is insanely effective.” King informs. “Imagine two fifty pound bars of iron being slammed into your gut, and you’ll have some idea of what it’s like to be hit by that thing.” “And ELM looks to be in really bad shape after eating that kick.” LDP notes. “Danny may have a weakened arm, but so far he’s managed to find plenty of other ways to keep in control of this contest.” Danny turns back towards Magnifico and walks up to him, then grabs ELM by the hair and pushes him back into the corner. Williams then rears back with his undamaged elbow before driving it forward, slamming it into Magnifico’s forehead with a Bionic Elbow! The fans, some impressed and some sympathetic, OHHH! in unison as ELM stumbles out of the corner, even more stunned than he was a second ago. At the same time, Danny steps backwards, facing Magnifico while putting some space between himself and the luchadore. Once he feels he’s in the correct spot, Williams suddenly spins three hundred and sixty degrees before lashing out with his undamaged arm, slamming the elbow on said arm into ELM’s face with a Rolling Elbow! Magnifico snaps backwards and hits the canvas, hard, while the fans pop for the amazingly stiff strike. Not wanting to waste a single second, Danny immediately falls to the mat and covers the luchadore, hooking his leg while the referee slides into position and begins counting. ONE! TWO! THR-Nooo!! Magnifico gets a shoulder up right before the three count, drawing an OHHH! from the amazed fans who were sure that the match was over. “Magnifico’s strategy doesn’t seem to have changed Danny’s at all, as he continues to build towards the Axe Bomber.” LDP wildly speculates. “Either he figures he can use his other arm for the finisher, or he’ll just use his damaged arm and grit through the pain.” “Either way, I believe we can now officially describe the Mexican’s gameplan as a complete failure.” King grandly announces. “’Course, that’s par for the course as far as Magnifico’s matches go.” Danny’s getting a touch frustrated, and it shows. Williams scowls unhappily as he grabs ELM by the arm and slowly stands up, pulling the luchadore to his feet as he stands. The second both men are on their feet, Danny throws a knee forward and into Magnifico’s gut, doubling him over in the center of the ring. Once he’s in that position, Williams quickly pulls him into a Standing Head-Scissors, drawing another wave of anticipatory cheers from tens of thousands of pleased Danes. After pausing a moment, Danny grabs Magnifico around the waist and hoists him onto his shoulders for a Powerbomb! However, the second ELM is on Danny’s shoulders, he seems to instantly spring to life, as he begins wildly bashing away at Williams’ skull, desperate to prevent him from landing the Powerbomb! Danny seems surprised and stunned by the sudden attack, giving Magnifico enough time to formulate a reversal! And that’s exactly what the luchadore does, as he twists his body around on Williams’ shoulders so that he and Danny are facing the same direction. Magnifico then falls forward, grabs Williams’ legs, and rolls forward, pulling Danny up with him and pinning him to the mat with a Victory Roll! A mighty cheer is raised for the unexpected reversal as the ref slides into position and begins his count. ONE! TWO! THHHRRRRR-Noooo!! Danny breaks free of the pin just in time, drawing a disappointed OHHHHH! from the capacity crowd. “NO! ELM caught Danny off guard with the Victory Roll, but Williams was able to break free at the very last moment!” LDP cries. “Gyah, that was close.” King breathes a sigh of relief. “For a second, I thought that Danny would be jobbing to that glorified Roll-Up.” “Er, King.” LDP whispers. “Ixnay on the ayfabe-kay, alright?” “I’m sorry Pete, but I can’t understand a word you’re saying.” King politely counters. “Drop the Southern slang before you try and commentate, m’kay?” The second Williams breaks free of the Roll, he pops back to his feet, moving significantly quicker than his Mexican adversary. When Magnifico gets to his feet, he turns to face the already-standing Williams...just in time to see Danny spin around and lash out with his damaged arm! AXE BOMBAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH... ...misses!! ELM dodges beneath Danny’s arm, whose forearm just barely grazes the top of Magnifico’s head! Williams’ momentum carries him a step forward, allowing ELM to get behind him. When Danny spins to face the luchadore, Magnifico grabs Williams and uses every bit of his strength to hoist him into the air! The move initially looks like a Scoop Slam, but when Danny is twisted upside down, ELM suddenly sits out and drives Williams downwards, slamming his skull into the canvas with his signature Fire Thunder Driver!! An unbelievable cheer rises from the giddy fans as both Danny and Magnifico flop to the mat; Danny motionless save for the occasional spasmic jerk, Magnifico laying on his back next to him, his chest heaving as he summons up the energy to roll over and pin Williams. “LA DIA DE LOS MUERTOS!!” LDP shouts, “ELM dodges the Axe Bomber and hits La Dia de Los Muertos! But he’s gotta roll over and pin Danny, or it’ll all be for naught!” “Luckily, that’s not going to happen.” King gleefully adds. “I’d be willing to bet the Mexican used the last bit of his meager strength to land that ridiculously-named move. ‘Sides, there’s no chance Danny’s gonna sell for that pathetic finisher.” LDP starts to say something, but thinks better of it and turns his attention back to the match, where both men still lie incapacitated on the mat. Anxious for someone to make a move, the fans split off and begin chanting for the wrestler they’ve decided to get behind. “DAN-E! DAN-E! DAN-E!” “E-L-M! E-L-M! E-L-M!” However, this chanting quickly breaks down to simple cheering when Magnifico suddenly rolls over and throws his arm over Danny! The ref slides into position and begins his count, which the capacity crowd gleefully follows along with. ONNNNNNNE!! TWOOOOOOOOOOOO!! THHHHHHHHHREEEEEEEEEEEENOOOOOOOOOO!!! Danny gets a shoulder up at the absolute last millisecond, drawing an disbelieving OHHHHHHH!! from the audience! Magnifico rolls off of Williams and stares up at the lights, his face a mask of frustration and disappointment. “No! No!” LDP cries, amazed. “Danny gets a shoulder up with absolutely no time to spare! And Magnifico has got to be heartbroken!” “I know, isn’t it great?” King happily asks. “Bon bons?” LDP smacks the candies out of King’s hands, instigating an argument between the two as Magnifico begins to stir in the ring. Breathing heavily and his skull still racked with pain, ELM slowly begins struggling to his feet, leaving Williams lying motionless on the mat below. After a few seconds, Magnifico finally reaches his feet, doing so as Danny begins to stir. Seeing that Williams’ isn’t going to be vulnerable for an aerial move, ELM grits his teeth, grabs Danny by the arm, and struggles to bring him to his feet. It takes a moment, but Magnifico gets Williams to stand, right before using his grip to whip Danny across the ring. Williams absentmindedly charges towards the far ropes, bounces off of them, and then rushes back towards Mangifico. As Danny approaches, ELM sidesteps towards him and throws his foot into the air, looking to slam it into Williams’ chin with a Superkick! However, Danny suddenly and unexpectedly hits the mat and rolls beneath ELM’s foot, deftly dodging the deadly kick. Magnifico’s momentum carries him a step forward, allowing Danny time to pop back to his feet behind him. ELM spins to face Williams, just in time to see Danny finish his three hundred and sixty degree spin and lash out with his damaged arm! AXE BOMBAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH~! “RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!” Williams makes perfect contact with the loaded Lariat, slamming Magnifico into the air to the delight of the crowd! The force of the blow spins ELM’s body like a falling ragdoll, causing him to twist unnaturally in the air before falling hard to the canvas! Meanwhile, Danny falls to the mat as well, cradling the damaged arm that he just used to land the Bomber. “AXE BOMBER! AXE BOMBER!” LDP exclaims, excited despite himself. “Danny hit his signature Lariat, and Magnifico looks to be completely knocked out!” Williams rolls around on the mat, struggling to deal with the pain that flows freely through his arm, doing so while ELM lies on the mat, seemingly unconscious. After a moment, Danny summons up every bit of his determination and crawls over to Magnifico, throwing his body on the luchadore’s for the pinfall! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEAHHHH!!” The fans release another impressive pop as the ref falls to his knees and begins his count, which the capacity crowd again gleefully echoes! ONNNNNNNNNE! TWWWWOOOOOOOOOOOO! ELM’s unconscious, but he might as well be dead. The pin is academic. THHHHHHHHHHHREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!! The ref springs to his feet and signals for the bell! Its ringing and the beautiful strains of “Jester’s Dance” are easily drowned out by the audience, who reach an unheard-of point in their cheering! “Your winner, by pinfall...” Funyon begins, “DAAAAAAAAAAAN-EEEEEE WILLIAAAAAAAAAMSSSSSSSSSS!!” “Danny wins! Danny gets the pinfall!” LDP announces, “In the end, Magnifico’s arm work didn’t make a difference, as the damage he took to his head over the course of the match caused him to be knocked unconscious when Williams hit the Axe Bomber!” “Yes! Yes! Stick with the kid, baby!” King cries, pointing to himself. “What’d I tell ya!” “Great work, King.” LDP begins, rolling his eyes. “We’re all proud of you.” In the ring, Danny slowly pushes himself to his feet and throws his undamaged arm in the air, cradling the other one as the fans respond with another wave of giddy cheers. Meanwhile, Magnifico lies on the mat beneath him, his body completely still. “Well, that’s all from us.” Pete ends. “Thanks for tuning into SWF Smarkdown, everyone! Good night!” The last image broadcasted is a shot of El Luchadore Magnifico, looking dead to the world as Danny Williams celebrates above him...

“Mr. Bugaboo?” Scott Pretzler blinks and rubs his eyes as if trying to wipe away the nightmarish vision, but it is no use; the Ring of Respect superstar appearing beside Ghost Machine on his television screen is indeed sporting that promotion’s United States Championship. “Good God almighty… I’ve been gone less than five months, and they’re already calling upon lugs like him to fill the void? Perhaps it was a mistake to accept the SWF’s offer. The ring of respect was about sportsmanship, work ethic, honor, and above all, craft – yet they now have a champion who, given a chainsaw, couldn’t wrestle his way out of a wet paper bag!” He composes himself and turns to face the camera. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t called for. I often get carried away with my ranting. That broadcast was unnerving, yes, but there is no reason why I should grant Bugaboo even more fame and attention by forcing all of you to hear about him. Instead, let’s talk about Carnage, Kaine, Wildchild, and Zyon. Four very different jobbers; different in race, nationality, intellect, and wrestling style. At first glance, they don’t appear to have much in common.” His eyes narrow. “But there is one thing they all share, Toxxic. When placed in the Snowflake Clutch submission maneuver, all of them have answered in the affirmative when asked by the referee… ‘Do you submit?’ To speak in more simplistic terms, they all gave up. In fact, not one person, after being placed in the hold, has gone on to win the match.” He folds his hands and rests his chin on them, tilting his head in a contemplative gesture. “So, what does that mean for you? Quite simply, it means that you have bitten off far more than you can chew – though that isn’t saying much, as the English aren’t exactly renowned for their dental hygiene. But when I look at your arsenal of submission holds, I find only the Regal Stretch, a move you blatantly stole; and the ‘Repeat to Fade,’ a clunky name for an equally clunky move, one that may in fact hurt if you can ever manage to apply it properly. I, however, will see to it that you don’t.” His expression now is almost one of pleading, though it’s unclear whether his emotions are genuine. “Why did you do this? Lord knows I don’t make friends easily, but when I first met you, I honestly thought I had found a person who shared my ideals, who I could count on, who I could admire. I sensed that as a team, we could accomplish things of which neither one of us was capable on his own. I was optimistic, I really. And this… this didn’t have to turn ugly. You beat me, and I beat you. We were even, and you could have left that. But no. You had to be better than me – no, I had to be worse. You felt as though you needed to… prove me wrong.” No longer sorrowful, he is now wearing his familiar smarmy grin. “But it is you who will be proven – not ‘proved,’ which is in clear violation of numerous grammatical rules – wrong, because when I’m done with you tonight, you’ll be lucky if you have enough in you for one more match, let alone two. Not because I want to. I still consider you my friend, and it pains me to see that my sentiments are not reciprocated. No, I will do this because you leave me with no choice. No choice at all.” He stands. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Tom Flesher has invited me over for cocktails. His birthday was this weekend.”

FADE IN “We’ve seen a great night of wrestling action here on Smarkdown,” says Longdogger Pete, “and it’s only fitting that we end with what could very well prove to be an instant classic, as long-time rivals Wildchild and Ejiro Fasaki will face each other, one-on-one, for the richest prize in the game!” “These two have been at each other’s throats ever since Wildchild first joined the JL almost three years ago,” adds the Suicide King. “They had one of the most intense feuds ever seen in the SJL, and it carried over to the SWF when both men got called up after the JL’s Malice in Wonderland Pay-Per-View!” “It was on that night,” continues Pete, “that Wildchild was able to defeat Ejiro to become the SJL Heavyweight Champion. And now, Wildchild is hoping for lightning to strike twice as he attempts to wrest the most coveted prize in this industry, the SWF World Heavyweight Championship, away from Ejiro!” “That was a long time ago,” mentions King. “Both men have grown wrestlers since then, although you have to admit that Ejiro has clearly had the greater success in the SWF, even if he’s recently gone soft!” “That depends on how you define success, King,” counters LDP. “Wildchild has never held the World Heavyweight Championship like Ejiro has, but he’s also never pursued it as intensely as Ejiro has. It’s not as if he’s had a whole bunch of title matches and failed, King; this is his first-ever shot at the Heavyweight Title!” “You’re welcome to continue making excuses for him if you have to,” says King, “But the bottom line is that Wildchild has never come through when it matters. Not only has he never won the Heavyweight Title, he’s never one a major main event match on his own!” “Well, we definitely have different points of view on Wildchild’s success,” replies Pete, “but if there’s anybody against whom Wildchild has proven that he can win the big one, it’s Ejiro! As we’ve seen throughout the night, King, these two men are just about evenly matched, as their styles seem to compliment each other, to say nothing of familiarity each has with the other’s strengths!” “They say that familiarity breeds contempt,” chimes King, “and there aren’t many individuals who have as much contempt for each other as Wildchild and Ejiro!” “No question about it,” agrees Pete. “I’d thought that these two had managed to learn to co-exist since Ejiro made his return a couple of months ago, but as we saw last week on Lockdown, the rivalry between them is just as intense as it ever was!” “Definitely no love lost between Wildchild and Ejiro!” adds King. “Like you said, these two have had several brutal matches in the past, and with the Heavyweight Championship of the World up for grabs, we could very well be in for another brutal confrontation!” “Well King, if that happens, then Wildchild is going to leave the arena tonight as a disappointed young man,” explains Pete. “As much as he might want to go toe-to-toe with the Champion, this is a ‘Pure Rules’ match, which means that he’ll be risking disqualification if he tries to make this match into a fight!” “The rules of this match definitely favor the Champion,” concedes King. “I’m not sure that he could actually beat Wildchild in a street fight, but in a Pure Wrestling Rules match, Ejiro clearly has the advantage!” “I’ll admit that the stipulation favors the champion,” says Pete, “but I’m not so sure that the advantage is quite as clear as you think, King; Wildchild has proven that he can handle himself in a wrestling environment.” “Being able to handle yourself in a wrestling environment doesn’t make you a wrestler,” replies King, “and just because Wildchild won’t embarrass himself doesn’t mean that he really has a chance, MacDougal; let’s not forget that Wildchild isn’t an instinctive wrestler. Yeah, he’ll surprise people with the occasional takedown, but that’s because that’s exactly what it is... a surprise! Wildchild doesn’t wrestle instinctively, and sooner or later, his natural tendency to fight is probably going to cost him!” “I take it then,” says Pete, “that you’re expecting Ejiro to retain tonight?” “Absolutely,” affirms King. “This is Ejiro’s match to lose. He has the Champion’s advantage, which means that he doesn’t have to beat Wildchild to retain the title. Moreover, the match stipulations are heavily weighted in his favor; Wildchild is a high-flier, and if you take that away from him, he becomes a brawler, and brawling will actually work against him in a Pure Wrestling Rules match. Now, top rope maneuvers are legal in this match, so Wildchild will actually have a chance if he can control the pace, but Ejiro is excellent at taking away his opponent’s strengths, and I just don’t think that Wildchild will be able to adjust his style well enough to beat Ejiro without his aerial tactics. I mean, I’ll reluctantly give him credit for making an effort to learn a few wrestling holds, but in a Pure Rules match, he’s going to have to wrestle at a much higher level than he’s ever shown that he’s capable of!” “Well fans, you’ve heard me say for months that I think that Wildchild has the potential to be one of the greats of all time,” says Pete. “I definitely think that he’s good enough to win here tonight, although my broadcast colleague does raise a legitimate argument. One way or the other, we’re about to find out, as we send it to Funyon in the ring!” DING! DING! DING! The sound of the timekeeper’s bell calls the attention of every fan in Parken Stadium to the ring, where Funyon brings the microphone to his lips: “Ladies and gentlemen,” he says, “THIS... is the MAIN EVENT!” YEEEEEEEEEEAH! Suddenly, the stadium goes dark, and the anxious Danish crowd erupts into a frenzy as Reggie Noble’s voice blast though the speakers: ATTENTION! YEEEEEEEEEEAH! ALL YOU NIGGAZ! ALL YOU BITCHES! TIME TO PUT DOWN THE CRISTAL, TIME TO TAKE OFF THE ICE FOR A MINUTE… TIME TO THROW A LITTLE MUD IN THIS MOTHERFUCKA… A solitary spotlight illuminates the stadium, flashing intermittently in time with the beat of Redman’s “Let’s Get Dirty,” as Wildchild bounces onto the stage! The Bahama Bomber continues to incite the crowd as he runs back and forth across the stage, waving his arms frenetically through the air. “Here comes the challenger!” shouts LDP. “Tell me he doesn’t look fired up, King!” “He’s definitely fired up,” concedes King, as Wildchild races down the aisle, slapping hands with the fans that surround the ring barricade, “but he’d better be careful that he doesn’t tire himself out. He may be able to get away with all that kind of pre-match activity in most situations, but this is the biggest match of his career, and I have to say that I’m a little disappointed with the way he’s come out.” “What do you mean by that, King?” asks a puzzled Doggah, as Wildchild does a “victory lap” around the ring. “How can you be disappointed with the way a guy comes down to the ring?” “Well, like I just said, this is the biggest match of his career,” repeats King. “For him to come down to the ring like this was just any other opponent, in any other match… to me, it shows a lack of respect and appreciation for what’s at stake; it’s like he’s not taking the match seriously.” “I’m going to have to go the other way on that, King,” refutes LDP, as Wildchild somersaults into the ring. “I mean, let’s face it, these two have faced each other so many times, and they know each other so well, that it doesn’t surprise me to see Wildchild come down to the ring like this. I think that Wildchild is a little smarter than you give him credit for, King. After all, don’t you think that if he were showing even the slightest bit of apprehension right now, that Ejiro would pick up on it immediately?” King nods in understanding. “Alright, I’ll give you that; I suppose that, given the length and depth of the rivalry between these two, you have to take their history into consideration… It still bothers me to see Wildchild behaving so flippantly, but at least I can understand why he’s doing it.” Wildchild leaps up onto the nearest turnbuckle as the lights come back on throughout the arena, and removes his officially-licensed “Take a Walk on de Wild Side!” t-shirt, tossing it into the crowd. He then backflips into the ring, and heads over to his assigned corner, removing the shin guards from his legs before completing his pre-match stretching routine as “Let’s Get Dirty” fades into the ethereal. After a few anxious moments, the crowd begins to grow restless when the methodic sound of a guitar is heard. Pockets of Fasaki loyalists throughout the arena begin to cheer as Tomoyasu Hotei’s “Battle Without Honor or Humanity,” more commonly recognized as the Crazy-88 theme, begins to play. Just as the song gets to the first part with the horns: POPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOP! The stage erupts into a pyrotechnic explosion! The fireworks leave a thick cloud of smoke, through which steps the World Heavyweight Champion; Ejiro pauses at the head of the ramp, opening up his sequined sleeveless yellow robe to display the World Title belt, before beginning his power walk to the ring. “Here comes the Champion!” exclaims LDP. “He looks as good as I’ve ever seen him, King!” “Well, we know how much the World Heavyweight Championship means to Ejiro, so it’s no surprise that he looks so intense, and I’m sure the fact that he came up on the losing end the last time these two were in the ring together is weighing pretty heavily on his mind!” “Wildchild and Ejiro went at it for a few minutes last month in a six-man tag, which marked the first time they’d been in the ring against each other in almost two years, King!” “That’s right,” agrees King. “And this will be their first one-on-one matchup in almost TWO years; Ground Zero 2003 was the last time these two met in singles competition!” Ejiro walks up the steel stairs and steps between the ropes to enter the ring. He removes the World Title from his waist and runs over to the edge of the ring, raising it above his head as his fans cheer wildly! RAAAAAAAAAAH! Fasaki heads over to his assigned corner and hugs the Championship belt tightly to his chest before surrendering it to referee Ronald “Red” Herrington. Ejiro removes his robe and hands it to the ring attendant as Herrington calls both he and Wildchild to the center of the ring. Funyon motions to the timekeeper to ring the bell once more to call everyone to attention as he begins to speak: DING! “Ladies and gentlemen,” begins Funyon, “the following contest is a Pure Wrestling Rules match, scheduled for one fall, for the SWF World Heavyweight Championship!” RAAAAAAAAAAH! “Introducing first,” he continues, “in the corner to my left, is the challenger, wearing black tights, with aquamarine and gold trim. He hails from Morgan’s Bluff, Andros, in the Commonwealth of the Bahamas, and weighs in tonight at two hundred fourteen pounds. He is a two-time former Hardcore Champion, a two-time former World Cruiserweight Champion, and a four-time… and CURRENT… co-holder of the World Tag Team Championship! He is the Number One Contender to the Heavyweight Championship of the World… He is… the Bahama Bomber… WIIIIILDCHIIIIILD!” Wildchild does a backflip and gives his sign for the Wild Ride as the fans chant for him: DUB CEE! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! “His opponent,” resumes Funyon, “in the corner to my right, is wearing yellow trunks, with black and red lettering. He hails from Sarasota, Florida, in the United States, and weighs in tonight at two hundred twenty-four and one-quarter pounds. He is a former United States Heavyweight Champion, and a two-time former co-holder of the World Tag Team Championship! He is the two-time… reigning… AND DEFENDING… SWF HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION OF THE WOOOOORLD! Ladies and gentlemen: the RULE… EEEEEJIRO FAAAAAH-SAKI!” Ejiro holds his hands above his head as his fans begin to chant his name: EEE-JEE-ROH! EEE-JEE-ROH! EEE-JEE-ROH! EEE-JEE-ROH! Funyon departs the ring as Red Herrington holds the World Heavyweight Championship overhead, turning to display it to all four sides of the ring, which garners a sizeable pop from the crowd. “There it is!” says King excitedly. “That’s what it’s all about!” Herrington walks over to the edge of the ring and hands the belt to Funyon, and then orders the timekeeper to ring the bell, signifying the start of the match: DING! DING! DING! “Here we go!” exclaims Pete. “It’s time to get down to bid’ness!” Wildchild and Ejiro approach each other in the center of the ring, standing nose-to-nose, both men pensive about making the first move. They engage in a collar-and-elbow tie-up, and Wildchild quickly takes advantage, dropping to his knee and grabbing Ejiro behind both legs as he shoots underneath the Champion, and then lifting him off the canvas and dumping Ejiro off his shoulder as he turns to the side to score the first takedown, courtesy of a double-leg! Wildchild quickly traps Ejiro in a waistlock and pulls him into referee’s position. Fasaki escapes to a sitting position and leans back against Wildchild’s shoulders as he bridges to his feet. Ejiro reaches down and uses his superior strength to force Wildchild’s hands from his waist, and then turns into the challenger, dropping to his knee as he shoots down underneath Wildchild and pulls him overhead with a fireman’s carry takeover, following it up immediately with a reverse chinlock! The fans applaud politely at the wrestling exhibition. “I think that Wildchild may have caught Ejiro off-guard with that double-leg,” says LDP, “but it didn’t take long for the Champ to recover!” Wildchild turns into Fasaki as both men get to their feet and backs him against the edge of the ring, using the ropes to help him launch Fasaki across the ring, only to be knocked down by a running shoulderblock as Ejiro rebounds. The Rule turns and runs back towards the ropes as Wildchild scrambles to his feet, running underneath a leapfrog as he bounces off the ropes and blocking a hiptoss attempt as he rebounds a second time, only for the Human Hurricane to reach up with his free hand and lock it with the other, flipping backwards to catch his feet on the top rope, and using it as a platform to spring back into the ring, taking Ejiro over with a spectacular armdrag! The fans begin to cheer wildly as Ejiro gets back to his feet and walks into a hiptoss, and then gets up and walks into another one! Fasaki scrambles to his feet and charges Wildchild, who deftly avoids him with a leapfrog, and then hooks the Champion underneath the arm as he bounces off the ropes, and sends him sailing overhead with a deep armdrag! The Rule continues on rolling right out of the ring, electing to try to regain his bearings before getting back into the fracas. “Whoa! Things breaking down for Ejiro in a hurry!” cries Pete. “Well, that’s when Wildchild is at his best, when he’s able to control the tempo of the match,” notes King. Ejiro walks away from the ring, cognizant of the referee’s count, and stares fiercely into the ring at his arch-nemesis. ONE! TWO! THREE! “Look at this!” shouts Pete. “Wildchild’s holding the ropes open for Ejiro!” “He’s daring him to get back in the ring!” adds King. “I don’t know if I approve of this kind of gamesmanship in a match of this magnitude!” “I don’t know if I’d call it gamesmanship, King,” replies Pete. “Wildchild’s just looking out for his best interests; he knows that he can’t win the title unless Ejiro’s in the ring, and he wants him back in. He’s basically promising Ejiro safe passage back to the ring, which I have my doubts that Ejiro would reciprocate, if the roles were reversed!” SIX! SEVEN! EIGHT! At the count of eight, Ejiro steps back up onto the apron to stop the referee’s count. He looks at Wildchild skeptically before stepping between the open ropes to return to the ring. They return to a collar-and-elbow tie-up, and Wildchild once again takes control, shifting into a side headlock. Ejiro jams the blade of his forearm underneath Wildchild’s nose, trying to get him to break the hold, and then swings his hand behind the challenger, pushing him off towards the ropes. Wildchild slams into Ejiro as he bounces off the ropes with a running shoulderblock, but can’t knock the smaller man down. Wildchild then runs back to the ropes, ducking a clothesline attempt as he rebounds, and then just narrowly avoiding a Screaming Elbow as he bounces off the ropes a second time… WHAM! … And levels Ejiro with a flying leg lariat! Wildchild pulls Ejiro to his feet and grabs him by the left wrist as he applies an arm-wringer and then steps into the Champion’s body, hooking his left arm underneath Ejiro’s left and then twisting towards the canvas as he takes him over with an armdrag! Wildchild maintains control of Ejiro’s arm and holds it flat against the canvas as he quickly lifts his upper body up off the mat and brings it back down sharply, driving his knees into Fasaki’s left shoulder! Wildchild shifts to an armbar and pulls Ejiro back to his feet, but the Rule stuns him with a kneelift to the midsection. Ejiro whips Wildchild into the ropes and hooks his right arm underneath Wildchild’s left to deliver a hiptoss as he rebounds, but the Bahama Bomber rolls floats through and tries to hook Ejiro for a hiptoss from the other side, only for the Champion to block it again. This time, however, Wildchild is a little too far from the ropes to try his flipping counter, and before he can figure out what to do instead… CRACK! … Ejiro nails him between the eyes with a Screaming Elbow that sends him falling to the mat! The Rule quickly follows up with a series of kneedrops to Wildchild’s face, and then pulls him to his feet and traps him in a hammerlock. While maintaining positive control of the arm, Ejiro pushes Wildchild into the nearby corner, jamming his shoulder against the top turnbuckle. He pulls Wildchild out a few feet, still holding onto the hammerlock, and then pushes him back into the corner, but the Tropical Tumbler runs up the turnbuckles and flips backwards over the top of Ejiro! Fasaki turns around to locate his opponent and is sucked into another armdrag! Wildchild applies an armbar, but this time, Ejiro quickly rolls out of it, and creates some separation from Wildchild as each man returns to a vertical base. The archrivals stare across the ring at each other as the fans show their appreciation for the action, cheering furiously. “Nice wrestling exhibition to start things off,” notes Pete. “Neither man was able to clearly establish any sort of dominance, even though Wildchild probably got the better of it.” Wildchild and Ejiro meet in the center of the ring, and Ejiro traps him in a waistlock, tripping Wildchild with an ankle pick as he throws him to the mat with a waistlock takedown. Wildchild quickly gets to a sitting position and tries to get free, but he can’t break Ejiro’s grip. Wildchild negotiates his way back to his feet, but the Rule drops down to the canvas, taking Wildchild with him as he falls backwards, and bridging into a quick cradle move! ONE! Wildchild kicks out easily at one, rolling to his side to get his shoulders off the canvas, but Ejiro maintains control of the waistlock and lets Wildchild’s momentum carry him over, as he pulls him into another cradle: ONE! Wildchild again escapes the pin at one, and returns to referee’s position. He gets back to his feet and shifts his weight from side to side, but is still unable to shake Ejiro loose, and finally runs to the edge of the ring, hooking his leg around the middle rope to force a break. “Excellent ride by the Champion,” praises LDP. “Tremendous job of staying with that waistlock, and he forced Wildchild to use his first rope break.” “That’s right,” agrees King. “He only has two more after that, and then going to the ropes is not going to help him. Not only that, but if he lets Ejiro sucker him into throwing punches, he’ll be risking a disqualification!” Both men return to the center of the ring to lock up once more, with Wildchild shifting into a side headlock. Ejiro immediately pushes him into the ropes and lifts him into the air with a hiptoss, but the Human Hurricane counters in midair, floating around to face Ejiro and planting his feet into the Champion’s midsection, before sending him flying through the air with a Freefall monkey flip! Ejiro scrambles to his feet and charges the challenger, but the quicker Wildchild snares him in a side headlock and pops his hips as he throws Fasaki to the mat with a side-headlock takeover, only for Ejiro to counter immediately, lifting his legs up and locking them around Wildchild’s neck to pull him backwards into a headscissors. Wildchild rolls around on his shoulders until he’s positioned at Ejiro’s feet, and then grabs him underneath both knees, surprising the Champion by flipping forward into a modified jackknife cradle! ONE! TWO! But Ejiro kicks out at two, and wraps both hands around Wildchild’s waist as he plants both feet firmly on the canvas, and begins to bridge his way up. The fans applaud as the Champions returns to a nearly vertical base and begins to roll both himself and Wildchild over, but instead of continuing on into a backslide as expected, Ejiro pops his hips and sends Wildchild sailing through the air with a gutwrench, only for the Tropical Tumbler to land on his feet and grab Ejiro by the head, dropping him with another side headlock takeover! “Tremendous action on the part of both men!” says Pete demonstratively. “The wrestling maneuvers have been fast and crisp in this match, and I’m sure that comes as a great surprise to the Champion, King!” “Comes as a surprise to me, too,” concedes King. “So far in this match, Wildchild has shown me more wrestling than I thought he was capable of. Ejiro clearly wasn’t expecting this out of him, and it’s got him off-balance!” Ejiro rolls to his knees and forces his way back to a standing position. He shoves his forearm underneath Wildchild's nose and forces him into a nearby corner, forcing Red Herrington to call for the break. “Now, does this count as a rope break for either man?” King wonders aloud. “After all, Ejiro’s the one who forced him into the ropes, but Wildchild is the one who actually has the hold applied!” “I don’t think it will, King,” replies Pete. “Red Herrington doesn’t seem to be indicating that it will.” Herrington steps between the two wrestlers to split them up… WHAM! … And Ejiro punches Wildchild in the face behind his back! Herrington turns around in time to see Wildchild nail Ejiro in response, and docks him another rope break for punching with a clenched fist! “What a brilliant move on Ejiro’s part!” praises King. “Not only did he sneak in a punch when the referee’s back was turned, but he made sure that the ref WAS looking when Wildchild threw one back! Now Wildchild’s down to a single rope break, and once he uses that up, Ejiro’s going to be free to hook on any submission he wants, for as long as he wants!” A livid Wildchild storms over to Fasaki, yelling at him for using a closed fist. The Champion simply grins in response, saying, “You’re just mad because you got caught!” This enrages Wildchild even further, and he gets right in Ejiro’s face, but the Rule plants both hands onto his chest and shoves him backwards. Wildchild stumbles back a few feet, but gets right back in Ejiro’s face, shoving him backwards in response, and knocking him down to the canvas! Ejiro gets to his feet and walks back over to Wildchild… SLAP! OOOOOOOOOOH! … And slaps him across the face! The fans cry out in shock as Wildchild staggers backwards, rubbing the sting out of his cheek while Ejiro looks back at him, smirking as if to say, “Well, what are you going to do about it?” SLAP! OOOOOOOOOOH! So Wildchild slaps him right back! The fans now begin to howl in delight, as the match appears to be in danger of dissolving into Jerry Springer territory… Ejiro winds his arm back and blasts Wildchild in the chest with a vicious reverse knife-edge chop, to which Wildchild replies with one of his own. The two bitter foes exchange chops as the fans decide to add their own sound effects: SMACK! WHOOOOOOOOOO! SMACK! WHOOOOOOOOOO! SMACK! WHOOOOOOOOOO! SMACK! WHOOOOOOOOOO! SMACK! WHOOOOOOOOOO! SMACK! WHOOOOOOOOOO! “I should have known that it wouldn’t take long before tempers started to flare between these two!” shouts Pete. “This match is quickly breaking down into more of the catch-as-catch can style, which you have to believe favors the challenger!” “I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” counters King. “I mean, Ejiro has obviously struggled against the mat-based offense that Wildchild has utilized early in this match. If he can get Wildchild back into the mode of wrestling like he usually does, that might give him the advantage, because he’s accustomed to Wildchild using that style, and knows what to expect when he’s wrestling like that. I think that this might be a deliberate attempt by Ejiro to control this match by leading Wildchild into using a style that he’s better prepared for!” The Rule breaks up the exchange of chops by stunning Wildchild with a kneelift to the midsection, and then whips him across the ring, towards a neutral corner, but the Bahama Bomber reverses, sending Ejiro into the turnbuckles instead, and surprising him by lifting him up off the canvas as he staggers back towards the center of the ring, planting him with a Scoop Slam! Wildchild bends down to pick Ejiro up, but the Champion grabs him by the hair and tosses him aside. As both men scramble to their feet, Fasaki grabs Wildchild and puts him back down with a Scoop Slam of his own, only to get kicked away by the challenger! Ejiro rolls to his feet as Wildchild nips up, but instead of standing their staring at each other, Wildchild grabs Ejiro by the head again and takes him back down to the mat with yet another side-headlock takeover! Ejiro pounds the mat in frustration as he rolls onto his belly, with Wildchild still in control of the headlock. “Well, if that’s what he was going for, King, it hasn’t worked,” states LDP, “as Wildchild continues to keep Ejiro off-balance by actually wrestling him! He’s been very effective with that side-headlock so far in this match, King!” “And I have to give him a little credit,” concedes King. “He isn’t trying to reinvent the wheel and become the next Tom Flesher overnight; he’s worked on two or three holds and he’s sticking with them, counting on his speed to enable him to beat Ejiro to the draw. You know, MacDougal, this is an application of Wildchild’s speed that we’re not used to seeing, and I have to say that it’s much better than the flipping garbage he normally does! It looks like he’s finally starting to figure out that he can actually use some of that speed to chain together wrestling moves, and if he can continue on down this path, he might actually be watchable someday!” Ejiro negotiates his way to his feet and pushes Wildchild into the ropes, but the Caribbean Cruiser ducks behind him as he rebounds and rises up off the mat, locking his arms and legs around the Champion’s arms and pitching backwards as he rolls Fasaki into a Crucifix pin! ONE! TWO! KICKOUT! Ejiro gets over his astonishment and kicks out at two, but Wildchild beats him to his feet and takes him back down yet again with that side-headlock takeover! The crowd cheers loudly as they gradually begin to realize that Wildchild is actually outwrestling the Rule. This time, Wildchild presses his body weight onto the Champion and tries to get a fluke pin… ONE! … But Ejiro immediately rolls his shoulder off the canvas at one! The Rule locks his hands underneath Wildchild’s chin and bends his neck back with a modified crossface, but Wildchild is able to slip out of that, while still maintaining the headlock. Both men get back to their feet, and Ejiro slams a volley of stiff forearms into Wildchild’s lower back to free himself, before pushing Wildchild back into the ropes, but the Bahama Bomber explodes off the ropes, extending his body laterally as he crashes into Fasaki, and taking him down with a cross-body block! Wildchild hooks the leg as Red Herrington drops down to count the pinfall: ONE! TWO! But Ejiro kicks out forcefully, sending Wildchild rolling underneath the bottom rope and out to the floor. The Caribbean Cruiser leaps onto the apron as Ejiro gets back to his feet, and lunges his upper body between the top and middle ropes, burying his shoulder into the Champion’s midsection. Wildchild pulls his body back out onto the apron, and then grabs onto the top rope, using it as a slingshot to propel his body into the ring, and he wraps his arms around Fasaki’s waist as he flies overhead, pulling him into a Sunset Flip! ONE! TWO! THR— KICKOUT! Ejiro is just able to kick out before the three count, and as he scrambles back to his feet Wildchild traps him in another side-headlock! This earns another frustrated pound of the mat by the Champion as the fans are now cheering for Wildchild in full force: DUB CEE! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! “I can’t believe how successful Wildchild has been with that side-headlock, King!” says Pete in amazement. “He has used that maneuver to perfection in this match! Who would have ever thought that Wildchild would be putting on a wrestling clinic against one of the greatest mat technicians in the history of professional wrestling? And that he’d be getting cheered for it? King, what would you have bet that Wildchild could still be out-wrestling Ejiro at this point in the match?” “I’ll tell you what,” says King grudgingly, “he’d have taken some of my money; I mean, Ejiro is absolutely verklempt! Wildchild is deliberately wrestling against type, and the Champion cannot get himself into any kind of rhythm!” Ejiro gets back to his feet and slowly backs Wildchild against the ropes, having learned not to make the mistake of letting him get a head of steam. Red Herrington calls for a break, and Fasaki uses the distraction to bury his knee into Wildchild’s midsection, driving the air right out of him! “Well, that’s one way to get out of a hold!” says King. “That was the third time Ejiro has used that kneelift to the midsection in this match,” notes Pete, “and it looks like it’s starting to take its toll on the Wildchild!” Ejiro delivers another kneelift that knocks Wildchild on his back, and then picks up both of his legs, holding them apart as he delivers a stomp to the challenger’s midsection! Wildchild rolls onto his knees to protect himself, but Ejiro takes a running start and buries a punt kick into Wildchild’s side! “And Ejiro is finally able to establish himself offensively in this match, and he is relentless, King!” remarks LDP. “It’s like he felt the threat of losing, and a switch has snapped on inside his head!” “If that’s true, then it’s going to be a long night for the Wildchild,” replies King. “After all, the fans may like Ejiro now, but he’s definitely got some skeletons in his closet; he’s not above bending the rules to get the job done… and we know that he’ll do anything to keep that title!” Ejiro pulls Wildchild to his feet and leaps into the air, whipping his body through the air to blast the unprepared challenger in the face with a spinning wheel kick that sends him tumbling out of the ring! “Standing spin wheel kick by Ejiro,” notes Pete. “Surprising agility on the part of the World Champion!” Ejiro runs to the ropes as Wildchild pulls himself to his feet outside the ring and dives feet first towards the edge of the ring as he rebounds, blasting Wildchild in the face with a baseball slide that sends him staggering backwards into the ring barricade! Fasaki scrambles back to his feet, runs back to the ropes as Wildchild stumbles away from the barricade, this time dives headfirst towards the edge of the ring, sailing between the top, and middle ropes… CRASH! … And crashing into the unsuspecting Wildchild with a suicide dive! The Rule pulls Wildchild’s head up off the canvas and begins to hammer him with forearms to the face as the referee begins to count both men out on the floor! “What do you think of the irony here?” asks King. “So far in this match we’ve had Wildchild outwrestle Ejiro Fasaki, only to see Ejiro take control of the match with high-risk offense, of all things! This match has been full of surprises, and I don’t surprise easily, MacDougal!” “Only in the SWF can you see athletes like this, with the versatility of Wildchild and Ejiro Fasaki,” adds Pete. “This has been a tremendous matchup!” FOUR! FIVE! Ejiro pulls himself off of the challenger and returns to the ring, holding the ropes open as Wildchild did earlier in the bout. The Bahama Bomber climbs wearily back onto the apron and steps between the ropes… WHAM! … But Ejiro nails him with a kick to the midsection while he is only half-way into the ring! “So much for sportsmanship!” groans LDP, as Ejiro continues to kick away at Wildchild’s midsection. “I said earlier that I didn’t think that Ejiro would reciprocate to Wildchild, but I was really hoping that I’d be wrong!” Ejiro grabs Wildchild by the back of the head and leads him over to a nearby corner, where he smashes the challenger’s face into the turnbuckles! Ejiro spins Wildchild around in the corner and delivers a devastating knife-edge chop! Wildchild bends over in pain, which creates an opening for Ejiro to hammer him in the back of the neck with several clubbing forearms, before he pulls him out of the corner and plants him with a DDT! Leaving him facedown on the canvas, Ejiro steps out onto the apron and climbs up to the top turnbuckle, leaping fearlessly down into the ring and dropping down onto the back of Wildchild’s neck with a flying elbowdrop! “And the role reversal continues!” says King in amazement, as Ejiro rolls Wildchild over into a cover… ONE! TWO! … But only gets two! Ejiro yells at Herrington, demanding that he count faster, but quickly turns his attention back to Wildchild, delivering a stiff punt kick to his ribs that sends him rolling out of the ring. Ejiro climbs up to the top turnbuckle and leaps down to the arena floor, nailing Wildchild in the back of the head with a flying double-axe handle! He quickly pulls Wildchild to his feet and delivers a brutal chop, before grabbing him by the wrist and whipping him into the steel ringpost, but only about half of the fans noticed the sickening impact, as the rest are distracted by the unscheduled appearance of… “Johnny Dangerous!” shouts Pete. “What’s he doing coming out here?” “I don’t know,” replies King, as Ejiro rolls back into the ring, “but he’s got no business at ringside!” Ejiro spies Johnny walking down the ramp as he gets to his feet, and whines about it to the referee. As Herrington turns his attention towards the Barracuda to ask him his reasons for coming down to the ring, Fasaki, suddenly very paranoid about possible chicanery by the Tag Team Champions, charges towards Wildchild as he’s getting back onto the apron and nails him with a running shoulderblock that sends him flying backwards and into the announce table! “What an aggressive move by the Champion!” shouts Pete, as Johnny rushes around the ring to check on his partner. “Wildchild’s ribs practically bounced off the announce table right here in front of us!” “And look at Dangerous,” spits King. “He’s shielding Wildchild from Ejiro, preventing the Champion from moving in on him. He don’t have no right to do that, MacDougal; he doesn’t have a manager’s license!” Johnny helps Wildchild to his feet and rolls him underneath the bottom rope, where Ejiro immediately greets him with a kneedrop into the solar plexus! Fasaki applies a lateral press: ONE! TWO! THR— KICKOUT! “Lucky break by the Wildchild there,” says Pete. “I’m surprised that he had the presence of mind to even be able to do that,” says King. Ejiro steps out onto the apron, and has a few words for the Barracuda before climbing onto the top turnbuckle. “I can’t believe it,” says King. “We’re going to see some more high-risk from Ejiro, of all people!” Rule leaps down into the ring as Wildchild struggles to his feet, knocking him right back down with a front dropkick! The Champion scrambles over to Wildchild and applies another lateral press: ONE! TWO! NO! WILDCHILD GETS HIS FOOT ON THE ROPES! Ejiro immediately grabs both legs and goes for another cover: ONE! TWO! THR— NO! “Oh my, was that close!” shrieks Pete. “I thought he had him there!” Ejiro pulls Wildchild to his feet and whips him into the corner, racing to the ropes as he staggers back towards the center of the ring… CRACK! … And knocking him flat with a running Screaming Elbow! Ejiro drops down for an immediate cover: ONE! TWO! THREEEEHELLNO! “I can’t believe the resilience on the part of the Wildchild,” says King. “I thought he was done!” Ejiro steps back onto the apron and climbs back up to the top turnbuckle. “I think this is a mistake, King!” shouts LDP. “I understand that Ejiro has been effective with the high-risk tonight, but you don’t want to go to the well too many times against a guy with the speed of Wildchild!” Ejiro positions himself to spring from the top turnbuckle… WHAM! … When Wildchild suddenly springs up off the canvas and races to the corner, leaping into the air and dropkicking Ejiro’s feet out from underneath him, crotching him on the top turnbuckle! “You were right,” says King. “Ejiro overplayed his hand, and Wildchild made him pay for it!” Wildchild gets back to his feet and climbs onto the top turnbuckle, locking his legs around the Champion’s neck and arching backwards as he falls backwards into the ring, taking Ejiro over with a Dragonsteiner! “Dragonsteiner!” shouts Pete, as Wildchild crawls over to apply the cover. “This could be it!” ONE! TWO! THREEEENOWAYJOSE! “Two and a half!” shouts Pete. “That may have been the closest fall yet!” Wildchild pulls Ejiro to his feet, but Fasaki stuns him with another kick to the midsection. He traps the challenger in a front facelock and reaches down to grab the leg as he lifts him overhead for a vertical suplex, but the Human Hurricane floats through and lands on his feet behind Ejiro. Wildchild traps him in a waistlock and pushes him into the ropes, pulling backwards to catch him in a rolling cradle, but Fasaki hangs onto the ropes. Wildchild rolls backwards to his feet and leapfrogs to avoid a charging Ejiro. He then leaps again to dodge the Champion with a no-look leapfrog, and runs right after Fasaki the second his feet touch the canvas, leaping into the air just as Rule bounces off the ropes a third time… CRASH! … And blasting him with a flying cross-body block that sends both men over the top rope and down to the arena floor! “We’ve got both men down!” shouts Pete, “and the referee is counting!” TWO! THREE! FOUR! Johnny pounds on the mat to motivate his partner as he struggles to get to his feet, and continues to shout words of encouragement as he rolls back into the ring. FIVE! SIX! Ejiro pulls himself to his feet and staggers over to the edge of the ring… SEVEN! CRACK! EIGHT! “What the hell?” shrieks Pete. “Johnny just nailed Ejiro with a Johnny Kick!” NINE! “Ejiro’s not gonna make it!” shouts King. TEN! DING! DING! DING! BOOOOOOOOOO! “That’s it!” exclaims Pete. Wildchild’s gonna win this thing via countout!” “But he doesn’t win the title!” explains King. “His partner just screwed him!” “Ladies and gentlemen,” booms Funyon, “the winner of the bout, as a result of a countout… the WIIIIILDCHIIIIILD!” RAAAAAAAAAAH! “However,” continues Funyon, “A title can only change hands on a pinfall or submission… therefore, STILL the SWF Heavyweight Champion… Ejiro Fasaki!” Wildchild looks outside the ring in confusion as the referee raises his hand in victory. “Look at the look on Wildchild’s face, King,” says Pete. “I don’t think he realizes what happened!” “He got screwed, that’s what happened!” “What a disappointing end to what was shaping up to be a classic match between two of the best in the business!” moans LDP. “Johnny Dangerous may have just cost his own Tag Team partner the Heavyweight Championship of the World! He’s going to have plenty to answer for on Storm. For now we’re signing off from Denmark; for the King, this is the Doggah… good night, folks!” Johnny retreats up the ramp, looking at his perplexed partner with a shrug and a “win some, lose some” expression on his face… As we: FADE OUT

FADE IN Announcer: “SWF Smarkdown presents, “A Moment in Time,” brought to you by Rolex: the Tom Flesher of watches!” Flashback to: August 16, 2003 - SWF Ashes 2 Ashes … Despite the referee’s warnings, Rule succeeds in unfastening Wildchild’s chest protector, and the proceeds to start pulling it off him. “Hell yeah,” crows Riley. “Now we’ll see how tough he really is, when he doesn’t get to wear a bulletproof vest!” “Will you stop,” moans Comet. “It wasn’t nearly as bad as all that!” “You trying to tell me I didn’t see what I saw,” asks Riley. “That thing was affecting the outcome of this match, and I’ll bet I’m not the only one who’s happy that Wildchild’s going to have to finish the match without it!” Wildchild, having been stripped down to his classic aquamarine tights, rolls over instinctively onto his stomach. Ejiro glares down at the chest protector in his hands with a satisfied grin on his face, but then decides that he’s not done with it. Getting to his feet, he raises the chest protector above his head with both hands as the referee jumps in front of him to prevent him from using it as a weapon against Wildchild. “Now look at THIS double standard,” growls Riley, as the referee grabs onto the other end of the chest protector and attempts to pull it away from Ejiro, “the referee is going to stop Ejiro from using it as a weapon, but it was okay for Wildchild to use it; what happened to turnabout is fair play?” Comet shakes his head. “You can’t be serious; surely you can’t be suggesting that you don’t understand the difference!” “The only difference that I understand,” replies Riley, “is that Wildchild is getting preferential treatment by the referee in this match! I think after the show, I’m going to file an appeal with the board of directors to get this ref impeached!” The referee continues to play tug-of-war with Ejiro until he finally succeeds in ripping the chest protector away from him. Rule follows behind him, barking about double standards as he walks over to the edge of the ring and leans over the top rope to hand the chest protector out of the ring to the timekeeper. “It’s finally out of there,” says Comet. “Maybe now you and Ejiro will BOTH shut up about it!” As the referee continues to give orders to the timekeeper, Ejiro turns back towards the ring… WHACK! … Just as Wildchild springs off the canvas with a desperate surge of adrenaline and thrusts his foot into the air, jamming it into the unsuspecting Fasaki’s chin, and knocking him out cold! “Beautiful Sidekick,” shouts Comet. “What a desperation move by the Wildchild! Ejiro was totally unprepared to receive that kick!” His energy temporarily spent, Wildchild slumps back to the mat as well, and the referee turns around to find both men lying motionless on the canvas. Oblivious to what led to that situation, the referee nevertheless begins to administer his ten-count: ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! “That superkick took a lot out of the Wildchild,” remarks Comet. “If he can’t find any more energy from somewhere, that might not be enough!” “It won’t be enough,” replies Riley. “That was all he had in the tank; he’s got nothing left!” SEVEN! EIGHT! Fasaki manages to recover first and crawls over towards Wildchild. He falls on top of him as the referee drops down to count the pinfall: ONE! TWO! THREE— NO! “He kicked out,” shouts Comet, “Wildchild kicked out!” Ejiro wearily gets to his feet and pulls Wildchild up as well. He grabs the Human Hurricane by the wrist and whips him towards the ropes, charging towards him to deliver a running lariat as he bounces back, but the Bahama Bomber ducks easily underneath… BANG! … And leaps into the air as he rebounds off the other set of ropes, launching himself like a cruise missile and blasting Ejiro in the face with a Flying Forearm! “Flying Forearm,” shrieks Comet. “How did he possibly find the strength to hit that? He must have invoked the name of the great and mighty Shazam!” Bobby rolls his eyes. “Unless ‘Shazam’ is geek-speak for ‘he got lucky,’ you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about!” Wildchild rolls over onto Ejiro’s chest and hooks the near leg as the referee counts the shoulders: ONE! TWO! THR— KICKOUT! “It’s anybody’s match right about now,” says Comet. “The next man to hit a big move on his opponent will probably come away with the victory!” “How astute of you,” Bobby says sarcastically. “You sure went out on a limb with THAT analysis, didn’t you?” Wildchild and Ejiro both get to their feet, and Fasaki swings his right arm at Wildchild’s head… BAM! … But the Bahama Bomber blocks with his left and catches him with a quick right jab! Fasaki tries it again, and gets more of the same! BAM! BAM! BAM! OOF! Wildchild tries to punch Ejiro back towards the ropes, but Fasaki manages to raise a knee into Wildchild’s chest to stop his momentum. “Yeah,” crows Riley. “Not so tough without your armor, huh?” With Wildchild doubled over, Ejiro raises his hands above his head and brings them down towards his chest in a grabbing motion, mocking Wildchild’s sign for the Wild Ride. As the fans begin to boo him, he flips them off in disgust. “We could be about to see the Wild Ride Deluxe,” says Riley excitedly. “Ejiro took Wildchild’s own move and made it better! How fitting would it be for him to win with this?” Ejiro wraps his arms around Wildchild’s waist and lifts him up off the canvas, holding him overhead in a crucifix powerbomb position, but before he can get set, the Human Hurricane begins squirming frantically until can get free of Fasaki’s grip and slides down, hooking his legs underneath Fasaki’s arms as he falls forward to pull him over into a modified Sunset Flip! But, before the referee can even get into position to count, Ejiro rolls through the pin attempt and onto his feet as Wildchild likewise rolls backwards on his shoulders to get to his feet. Wildchild and Ejiro charge towards each other, and the Bahama Bomber gains the advantage, grabbing Rule by the wrist and twisting it into an arm wringer, then suddenly spinning around towards Fasaki’s body and snaring him in a side headlock as he grapevines his near leg… WHAM! … And falls backwards, spiking the back of Ejiro’s head into the canvas with a Russian Leg Sweep! “A beautiful series of counters by both men,” shouts Comet, “resulting in a Russian Leg Sweep by the Wildchild… OH MY GOD! He nipped up! By Zeus, Wildchild just nipped up!” The crowd in the Super Dome erupts as Wildchild nips up to his feet, and they begin to cheer even louder as he reaches up and rips the shoulder straps down from his wrestling tights. Stepping out onto the ring apron as he waves into the ring, practically daring Ejiro to get up. “This could be it,” exclaims Comet. “Wildchild could be about to fly!” The Human Hurricane leaps onto the top rope just as Ejiro gets to his feet and launches himself into the ring, snaring Fasaki’s head as he swings around… BANG! … Only to plant it into the canvas with a jump swinging DDT! “Presumed Guilty,” screams Comet as the crowd cheers itself hoarse. “Ejiro Fasaki has been Presumed Guilty!” Wildchild rolls onto Ejiro’s motionless body and applies a lateral press, and the crowd chants along with the referee as he counts the pinfall: ONE! TWO! THREE! NO! “No, no, no, no,” shouts Riley. “HELL NO! Ejiro ain’t goin’ out like that!” Wildchild looks up at the referee with a stunned expression on his face. He holds up three fingers as if seeking affirmation, but the ref calmly holds up two back at him. “Give it up, Wildchild,” Riley says haughtily. “It’s over! That’s the best you can do, and you STILL can’t put Ejiro away!” Wildchild gets to his feet and pulls Ejiro up along with him. He grabs Rule by the wrist and whips him towards the ropes, lowering his head as he rebounds and lifting him into the air with a back body-drop, but Fasaki lands on his feet. As the Caribbean Cruiser spins back around, Rule doubles him over at the waist with a kick… WHAM! “Stunner,” cheers Riley, as Ejiro’s desperation move appears to suck the energy right out of the building. “He got all of that! It’s gotta be over!” The impact of the stunner knocks Wildchild all the way over to the ropes, as Fasaki lays motionless on the canvas trying to catch his breath. He rolls over onto his stomach and begins to slowly drag himself over towards Wildchild. “It’s all over now,” Riley insists gleefully. “It’s only a matter of time; once Ejiro reaches Wildchild, this match is history!” Rule finally manages to crawl across the ring and falls atop Wildchild, as the referee drops into position to count the pinfall: ONE! TWO! THREE! “No,” shouts Comet. “He got his foot on the ropes! Wildchild got his foot on the ropes!” “What was the point of that,” snaps Riley. “He’s only delaying the inevitable!” Fasaki rolls Wildchild away from the ropes towards the center of the ring and reapplies a lateral press: ONE! “This’ll definitely be it,” says Riley. TWO! “Kick out, Wildchild,” pleads Comet. “You can do it!” THREE— WILDCHILD GETS THE SHOULDER UP! “It’s a miracle,” cries Comet. “Wildchild managed to find enough strength to kick out after that stunner! He must have taken one of Underdog’s super energy pills!” Ejiro gets to his feet and looks down at Wildchild with disgust. “That’s it,” he mutters to himself, before picking the Tropical Tumbler up off the canvas and dragging him over towards the corner. Snaring him in a front facelock, Fasaki lifts Wildchild up off the mat and positions him on the top turnbuckle, before climbing onto the second turnbuckle and reapplying the front facelock. “It looks like Ejiro is setting up for a superplex here,” says Comet, as Ejiro ascends further to the top turnbuckle. “Not if I know Fasaki, he isn’t,” replies Riley. “He’s going to go for the Boilermaker! He’s going to put an exclamation point on this match, and send a message to Flesher at the same time!” Ejiro steadies himself on the top turnbuckle and pulls Wildchild into position. He tugs at Wildchild’s leg and prepares to lift him over for the dreaded Avalanche Brainbuster… “Here it comes,” gurgles Riley. … But Wildchild desperately grapevines his leg around Ejiro’s preventing the lift from happening. “He blocked it,” gasps Comet. “Wildchild still has a chance!” Ejiro tries again to lift Wildchild up for the Boilermaker, but can’t fight past the block attempt. Then Wildchild begins to fight back, hammering him repeatedly in the ribs until Fasaki’s precarious balance begins to be threatened. Wildchild, who is clearly more comfortable on that perch, steadies himself before delivering a kneelift into Fasaki’s midsection, which causes him to double over sharply and nearly fall off! “Wildchild put a knee right into Ejiro’s gut,” shouts Comet, “and Fasaki’s reeling!” The Bahama Bomber pulls Ejiro underneath him into a standing headscissors, and then leaps fearlessly off the top turnbuckle, wrapping his arms around Ejiro’s waist as he floats over him… WHAAAAM!!! … And absolutely PLANTING him into the canvas with a top rope Sunset Flip Powerbomb! The crowd EXPLODES as Ejiro bounces off the mat! “Bahama Bomb,” shrieks Comet. “By Zeus! He hit Ejiro with the Bahama Bomb!” “This can’t be it,” groans Riley. “It just CAN’T be!” Wildchild scrambles to his feet, using the ropes for support, and suddenly finds himself inspired as he glances towards the corner. “He couldn’t possibly be thinking of going to the top rope,” says Comet. “Could he?” “He’d better not,” shouts Riley. “This may be the one and only chance he has to beat Ejiro after that Bahama Bomb. If he goes to the top and misses, he’ll have no one to blame but himself.” But Wildchild wouldn’t be Wildchild if he didn’t take daring risks. The crowd comes their feet in nervous anticipation, cheering the Bahama Bomber on. Wildchild leaps onto the top rope and looks out to the fans for encouragement, which they heartily provide him, and then leaps fearlessly from his perch! He extends his arms out to his sides in a ‘T’ position and twists through the air as he plummets towards the ring like a shooting star… “Come on, Ejiro,” pleads Riley. “Roll out of the way! Get your knees up! Do something!” Wildchild continues to fall, twisting all the way down. The crowd waits with baited breath as they half expect Ejiro to move… BUT HE DOESN’T! SPLASH! Twenty thousand strong in the Super Dome erupt as the Human Hurricane smashes into Ejiro’s chest with his signature Twisting Body Splash from the top rope! “Andros Drop,” shouts Comet. “He hit it! I can’t believe he actually hit it!” “I won’t believe it,” bellows Riley. “Come on, Ejiro! Don’t let him beat you like this!” Wildchild hooks the leg and the referee dives into position once more to count the shoulders. The excitement in the crowd builds to a crescendo as they count along with the referee: ONE! TWO! THREE! DING! DING! DING! The cheering is deafening in the Super Dome, drowning out the sounds of “Let’s Get Dirty.” Johnny, Tom and Strangler make their way from the back as the referee raises Wildchild’s arm in victory. “What a main event,” shouts Comet. “What a finish! Wildchild overcame his long-time nemesis to leave Ashes 2 Ashes with a victory! Let’s go to Funyon for the official word!” Funyon rises from his ringside seat, raising the microphone to his lips. “Here is your winner, and SOLE SURVIVOR… THE WIIIIILDCHIIIIILD!!!” Johnny, Flesher and Strangler join Wildchild in the ring, taking turns slapping him on the back and raising his arm in the sky, as they stand victorious. End Flashback: Announcer: “Rolex: We bring the workrate!” FADE OUT

“Folks, it’s time for the Cruiserweight Title match,” Longdogger Pete exclaims excitedly as Smarkdown comes back on the air, “but tonight it’s with a twist - not only is this match a Submissions match, but it’s also the third in what we have learned on Lockdown will be a five-match series between Toxxic and Scott Pretzler!” “-and Scott Pretzler defended this very same belt on Lockdown where he completely destroyed Zyon,” Suicide King cuts in, “I really don’t see why he should have to defend it again against a man he beat less than two weeks ago!” “Well, Toxxic beat Scott Pretzler just before he became champion by default,” Pete points out. “Also, Tom Flesher booked this match.” “Um… yeah, good call on Tom’s part,” King mutters, not wanting to be caught criticising one of his long-time allies and supporters. “Fighting champion. Yeah.” The camera shot pans over the rows of fans holding signs, including ‘CORTEZ PWNS MADDIX!’ and ‘sXe = SEXY!’, and down to the ring where Funyon awaits his moment to shine. The veteran ring announcer adjusts his bowtie and raises the microphone to his mouth… “Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is a Submissions match to be contested under Cruiserweight Rules, and is for the SWF World Cruiserweight Title!” “YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” No sooner has the cheer left several thousand Danish throats than the crashing opening chord of ‘Rookie’ by Boy Sets Fire rolls out over the arena prompting ever single man, woman and child present to leap to their feet! The Smarktron whites out, then promptly fades to black as jagged white letters flash up a familiar message: ‘PREPARE TO BE PROVED WRONG…’ “TOXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” “TOXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” The Smarktron changes to show highlights of the Straight-Edge Sensation’s career, then shifts again to show Mike Van Siclen being taken off a balcony and through a table with the Toxxic Shock Syndrome, the devastating landing timed to coincide with the stage-wide eruption of red pyro- *BOOOOM!!* -that signifies the arrival of the SWF’s premier straight-edger as the main riff thunders out! For a moment all that can be seen is smoke and pyro after-image, but then a wiry figure with spiky hair steps through and pauses for a moment, cracking his neck from side-to-side. “…introducing first, the challenger” Funyon booms, “from Nottingham, England and weighing in tonight at 218lbs; the ‘Straight-Edge Sensation’… TOXXXXXXXXX-IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIC!!” Upon hearing his name Toxxic breaks into a sprint, tearing down the entrance ramp at top speed and sliding under the bottom rope before popping back up to his feet right in front of the ring announcer! “TOXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” “TOXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…” The Straight-Edge Sensation suddenly throws his arms wide, palms flat downwards, and each turnbuckle sends another jet of red pyro skywards as the first verse comes in! *bap-bap* *BOOOM!!* ‘I never thought this could be me I guess you never do until it’s happening to you Like all the fun turns into shame And all the ‘could-have-beens’ rearrange…’ “YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Toxxic strips off his customised England soccer shirt and bundles it up before hurling it over the top rope and into the second or third row of the crowd, where a couple of Danish goth girls fight over it surreptitiously. The Straight-Edge Sensation then exchanges a few brief words with Funyon before talking to tonight’s referee Brian Warner, the same official who counted the three in the Ukraine. “You have to speculate King, exactly what Tom Flesher was thinking when he made this match,” Longdogger Pete says. “I really doubt he wants to see Toxxic with the Cruiserweight Title, or indeed any title, so he must feel that the Submissions stipulation will strongly favour Scott Pretzler - as indeed Pretzler himself must, given that he chose it, although I doubt he requested to put his title on the line!” “Toxxic has tapped out twice in his SWF career,” King reminds his commentary partner, “once to Landon Maddix and once to Ejiro Fasaki, both of whom I consider to be overpushed midcarders. He lost the World Title on both occasions, so it’s not like the big event brings out some hidden reserve in him; in a match against Scott Pretzler, a technically impeccable wrestler who is on his way to the main event, I really can’t see any what that he’ll win!” “But I should remind you,” Pete argues, “that while not known as a submission specialist Toxxic has notched up some famous victories with moves like the Repeat To Fade and the Regal Stretch, including capturing the ICTV Title twice and making Johnny Dangerous pass out in the main event of Genesis V to win the World Title for the second time!” “Johnny Dangerous?” “That’s what I said.” “I refer you again to my ‘overpushed midcarder’ statement,” King snorts dismissively. As Toxxic finishes his conversation with Brian Warner, the stirring opening notes of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony rings out through the arena PA. The Smarktron starts showing images of ‘The Critic’ Scott Pretzler, first reading from his Workrate Report and then delivering the Tildebang and applying the Snowflake Clutch to an assortment of SWF superstars. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “And his opponent,” Funyon bellows, struggling to make himself heard over the jeers from the Danish crowd, “from Toronto, Ontario, Canada; he weighs in tonight at 226lbs and is the reigning and defending SWF Cruiserweight Champion; ‘The Critic’… SCOTT… PUH-RETZZZZ-LEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRR!!” “PRETZ-LER SUCKS!” “PRETZ-LER SUCKS!” The blonde-haired, blue-eyed and almost-certainly-not-Nazi Canadian appears on the soundstage a few seconds later, the Cruiserweight Title wrapped securely around his waist. The volume of abuse from the Danish fans only increases, but Pretzler doesn’t seem to mind as he starts to make his way slowly down the entrance ramp. However, despite his smirking exterior the Critic never removes his eyes from the ring for long, always making sure to keep track of where his former leader is. Unfortunately for the Canadian his estimation of Toxxic’s speed seems to be a little erroneous, as when he reaches the bottom of the ramp and turns for a moment to deliver a suitably witty retort to a particularly mouthy Danishman the Straight-Edge Sensation abruptly sprints across the ring and clears the top rope to come crashing down on his opponent with a tope con hilo! *WHAM!* “YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” The impact crushes Pretzler down into the protective matting and makes the crowd erupt, but Toxxic doesn’t seem very concerned about either his opponent’s health or the fans’ reaction as the moment he gets up he immediately grabs Pretzler and hauls him up as well, then rips the Cruiserweight Title from around the Critic’s waist and grabs hold of his right wrist to Irish whip him into the guardrail… …but it’s going to take more than 218lbs of British Beef crashing into his back to take out Pretzler, and he reverses the momentum so it’s Toxxic who ends up crashing backfirst into the steel! *BANG!* Sucking air into his lungs that was lost through impact, Pretzler advances on his momentarily incapacitated opponent and begins to reach down to continue his assault - or possibly, aggressive defence - but at that moment a member of the crowd suddenly darts forward and swings a steel chair at the Critic’s head! *CRACK!!* “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “What the hell!?” King screeches as the crowd pops on principle, “are all these Europeans mad? WHO IS THAT!?” The figure, who has a Yankees baseball cap pulled low above a bandana’d face so that only his eyes are visible, has now climbed over the guardrail and stands above the fallen Cruiserweight Champion before raising his chair again and- *CRACK!!* “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “SECURITY!” King bellows. “I agree,” Pete replies tensely, “I have no love for Pretzler but we can’t have fans assaulting our wrestlers!” Toxxic pulls himself up on the guardrail, clearly wondering what the hell is going on here. He reaches out a hand to grab at the assailant’s shoulder, trying to figure out who he is… and the man spins around. For a moment the two men just stare at each other. Then Toxxic’s eyes widen. *CRACK!!* “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “He just took out Toxxic too!” Pete yells as the Straight-Edge Sensation’s raised arms fail to be enough to protect him from another vicious chairshot. “What in God’s name is going on here?” The disguised man isn’t content with one shot for the Brit either, as he raises his weapon and brings it down again on his fallen enemy… *CRACK!!* “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” SWF security has now appeared at the top of the entrance ramp, but there’s only three of them and they look a little hesitant to approach an armed man who has just taken out two of the federation’s top competitors. Meanwhile the man himself has left the scene of his assault and entered the ring where Brian Warner and Funyon are still standing, the match never having officially started, whereupon the Yankee-capped mugger demands the house mic from Funyon! The ring announcer gives it up and the new arrival raises it to his mouth. “TOM FLESHER!” “Hey, I know that voice…” Kng says suspiciously. “FLESHER!” the man in the cap roars again. “Take a good look, Tom! I just ruined one of your main attractions! I guess you weren’t expecting me back so soon, but hey,” he continues, removing the cap to reveal a mop of vaguely greasy, dirty blonde hair, “I’m only a day early…” The bandana is pulled away, and a familiar face is revealed. “That’s Spike!” Pete shouts over the sudden noise of the Danish crowd - some cheering, some booing - as ’Hollywood’ Spike Jenkins finally reveals himself. “His 30-day suspension runs out tomorrow, but he’s come back on Smarkdown and assaulted Toxxic and Scott Pretzler!” “Well, given the history between all three I guess it’s no surprise why he chose this match to interrupt,” King notes, “but all the same - SECURITY!” “Flesher, I’d just managed the greatest win of my career,” Spike begins again, “and you had to go and ruin it for me! I’d just beaten Toxxic to within an inch of his life - a man that you hate too, Tom! - and you decided to suspend me. Well, I’m back… and I’m going to make your life HELL!” Again, this statement from Jenkins receives a mixed reaction from the crowd. The three security guards look at each other, clearly wondering whether they should proceed with capturing someone who has turned out to be employed by the company after all… but then a familiar voice is heard, and all eyes turn to the Smarktron. “Is this damn thing on yet?” A close-up of Tom Flesher suddenly appears, the Superior One apparently having run straight to the production truck in order to get a live feed to the Smarktron. The Smarkdown Commissioner receives a confirmation from off-screen and he turns to face the camera. Tom Flesher is very unhappy. “Spike,” the Superior One spits, “not only have you just interrupted a match I specifically requested for my show, but you have broken your suspension. I will be talking to the Board of Directors about this, and then you will learn the meaning of ‘hell’.” Flesher seems to compose himself a little, then begins to speak again. “In the meantime, I’d like to address my words to the three uniformed nancies I can see on my monitor, standing around at the top of the ramp - that man in the ring is not authorised to be anywhere in the building, let alone in the competition area having just assaulted two members of our roster with a blunt instrument, and I want him removed THIS MINUTE!” Thoroughly chastised, the three Security guards begin to make their way down the ramp. Spike just laughs and flips the bird at the massively-enlarged face of Tom Flesher before ducking out of the ring again vaulting over the guardrail, leaving through the crowd. By the time the guards reach it there is no sign of Spike Jenkins, no sign at all. “Well fans… um, I guess this match will have to be postponed,” Longdogger Pete says as SWF officials crowd around Scott Pretzler and Toxxic, helping the groggy superstars up. “Spike Jenkins is back, and in a spectacular way, but with this match cancelled we’ll be going straight to the WORLD Title match featuring Ejiro Fasaki and Wildchild, next!” FADE OUT

FADE IN Announcer: “SWF Smarkdown presents, “A Moment in Time,” brought to you by Rolex: the Tom Flesher of watches!” Flashback to: August 10, 2003 - SWF Ground Zero “Ha! See this is exactly why Wildchild needs the training Ejiro Fasaki has been so willing to hand over,” chortles Riley. “I bet you that Fasaki would never treat one of his own personal students in this manner. He would just have to tell Wildchild stuff, not beat it into him firsthand.” Increasing the pressure across Wildchild’s back and ribs, Fasaki refuses to allow the Bahamas Bomber to simply roll off his knee. Instead placing his hand against Wildchild’s chin, Fasaki presses down on his adversary to further work to weaken his back. Finally satisfied after a moment of torture, Rule finally just pushes Wildchild off his knee and allows The Human Hurricane a moment to get his wind together. But Ejiro is not about to let Wildchild more than that one moment to get his body together. Grappling with Wildchild for a moment, Ejiro pushes the Bahamas Bomber back into a corner and begins to bury a number of short shoulder blocks into his chest. Leaning back for a moment, Fasaki pops an elbow into the side of Wildchild’s noggin if for no other reason to remind Wildchild of the potent weapon. Then taking Wildchild by the wrist, Fasaki flings him across the ring with an Irish whip that further jars the body of the high-flying grappler. But as Ejiro comes running forward, Wildchild meats the charge with a barefooted kick to the mouth. “Quick thinking by Wildchild!” Riley corrects Stevens immediately, “Thinking? He’s just reacting! He’s got no strategy!” Propelled out of the corner by the kick, Fasaki tries to get his wits back about him as Wildchild pulls his body up to the middle rope and awaits Ejiro’s return to the corner. Seeing Fasaki’s head finally pointing in his direction once again, Wildchild leaps out and hooks Fasaki for a Tornado DDT. But instead of going over, Fasaki rapidly shifts fast enough to get his feet underneath him and avoid getting spiked into the canvas. Quickly Ejiro ropes his leg behind Wildchild’s and pops his head loose from the front facelock. Stepping forward, Fasaki buries Wildchild in the mat with a sense staggering STO that drives even more damage into The Human Hurricane’s busted ribs. Rolling off the damaged body of his opponent, Ejiro Fasaki breathes in deeply himself from the amount of punishment he’s had to absorb himself during this brutal cage encounter. But still, Fasaki has the stamina to continue on here and pull Wildchild up to his wobbly feet. Hooking Wildchild up for what looks to be another suplex attempt, Ejiro instead pulls the former circus performer over to the turnbuckles and sets him up right on the top rope. Riley rants into his microphone, “Oh ho! It looks to me like Ejiro wants to pick things up a bit! POW!” Stevens answers back, “But this is a big risk, Bobby. Any fall from that high in the air is going to prove to be a tremendous impact for both competitors.” Climbing up right behind Wildchild, Fasaki hooks Wildchild’s arm over his shoulder and looks to superplex the Bahamas bomber all the way into the center of the ring. But as he tries to force Wildchild over, Fasaki finds his power display barred by an odd blocking technique. Reaching behind him while standing on the top rope, the high flyer grabs a handful of the steel cage in order to keep from being sent over with the superplex. Exhausted from the effort of trying to suplex Wildchild, Ejiro’s effort cease for a moment and allows Wildchild to sneak a right hand into the breadbasket of his opponent. With Ejiro stunned for a moment, Wildchild reaches around with his free arm and hooks Ejiro’s far leg and lifts Rule high into the air. “Oh what the hell!” shouts out Stevens as the crowd all rise to their feet in concert. Waiting for what they all seemed to know was coming… WHAM! “WILD RIDE NUMBER TWO OF THE MOTHER F’N TOP!” Cracking his neck against Wildchild’s shoulders, Ejiro spasms like a fish brought onboard during the Bass Masters Championship. But Wildchild is not immune from the pain of jolting against the canvas from such a height. Clutching at his chest, Wildchild rolls over onto his own stomach as Ejiro comes to a resting position flat against the canvas. “And both men are down!” reports Stevens to absolutely no one’s surprise. “The first man to get to the door is going to be out of there!” Slowly crawling towards the door first is the Bahamas Bomber! Moving as slowly as one would expect Wildchild heads to the door so aptly opened by the referee on the floor. Inch by inch, step by step, slowly he turned … to find Ejiro Fasaki latched onto his ankle! With his hands on the side of the apron and breathing free air, Wildchild pulls valiantly to get himself out of the ring but still Fasaki remains adamant that the Human Hurricane will not be touching the floor on this occasion. Finally placing a foot against the bottom rope, Ejiro manages to row the boat and pull Wildchild out of the doorway now closed by Matthew Kivell. Pulling Wildchild back and between his legs, Ejiro clamps down with a leg scissors and works to crush The Bahamas Bomber’s ribs with as much power as his broken body can provide. Pulling Wildchild’s chin back with one arm, Ejiro Fasaki begins to club away at his potential protégé’s upper chest with hard forearm shots in a viscous attempt to simply cripple the shoeless bastard. WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! Releasing his grip finally after all the pounding, Ejiro allows Wildchild to scramble free of his grip and roll into a virtual fetal position on the canvas. Crawling up to his feet after doing so much damage in such a calculated way, Fasaki breathes heavily as he leans against the cage for a moment. Shaking his head of the cobwebs placed there by the top rope Muscle Buster, Ejiro still has enough in his tank to begin the climb up the side of the cage in a corner. Slowly moving carefully up the side of the steel, Ejiro manages to get as far as standing on the top rope before Wildchild manages to pull himself together enough to get up to his feet and snag a hold of Fasaki by the ankle. With Fasaki no longer able to climb up the cage with the weight of Wildchild attached to his leg, The Human Hurricane reaches up with his other hand to gain a handhold on Fasaki’s kneepad. Scaling up Fasaki’s body grab by grab, Wildchild soon finds himself side by side with his opponent. But being so close to Fasaki now precludes Wildchild from continuing to keep Fasaki from moving up the cage towards escape. So further up both up the side of the cage even higher in a desperate race to head over the top to the floor. “They’re twenty feet in the air and the one who falls sure as hell is not going to have a nice trip!” With both men up on the side of the cage wall they find themselves perched high in the air on precarious footing. Only a leg throw away from being up and out of the cage, Wildchild and Ejiro resort to what all world class athletes resort to in times such as these: hard punches right in the face. EJIRO WITH A RIGHT! WILDCHILD WITH A RIGHT! EJIRO! WILDCHILD WOBBLES! WILDCHILD FIRES BACK! EJIRO WOBBLES! WILDCHILD WITH ANOTHER RIGHT! ANOHER RIGHT! RIGHT! RIGHT! EJIRO KICKS HIM IN THE GROIN! OHHHHHHHHHHHH! Finally finding enough of a perch to take one foot off the side, Ejiro slams it strait up into the crankshaft of his opponent with a sort of violent glee most people get from killing insects. Shocked by the maliciousness of the blow, Wildchild loses his grip on the side of the cage with one hand and hangs from the other with only the slightest amount of balance remaining. Clearly to the fans watching the moment, it seems that even a mere breeze could knock the Bahamas Bomber off his perch and to the canvas below. But Fasaki has even worse plans than that for The Human Hurricane. Finding his footing once again on the cage, Ejiro gets a better grip on the stunned Wildchild himself around the waist. Jerking Wildchild free of the cage, Fasaki waits a moment to allow the horror of the moment to become clear to the entire audience before executing his master plan. Finally satisfied that his plan has come to fruition, Ejiro drops Wildchild’s throat right on the top edge of the cage! “HOTSHOT OFF THE TOP!” screams Mark Stevens as Wildchild’s body rebounds off the cage and begins its long descent to the mat below! WHOOOOOOOOOOOMP! “GOOD GRAVEY!” shouts out Riley as the corpse of The Human Hurricane smashes against the canvas with his shoulders from a height of almost twenty feet in the air. “HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!” chants the crowd. The life crushed out of him from that horrible fall, all Wildchild can do is lie on the match and tremble from the pain. And as Fasaki is already stationed at the top of the cage, there is nothing to do but watch as Ejiro tosses his body up and over the edge and slowly lower himself all the way to the arena floor. From their seats around the ring, the crowd registers their severe disappointment even before Fasaki finally touches the floor and they hear the signal that the match is now over. DING! DING! “Ladies and Gentlemen,” reports Funyon, “the winner of this contest, The SWF United States Champion EEEEEEJIROOOOOO FASAKI!” “YESSS! Finally! Wildchild will have to submit to the knowledge of the masterful Ejiro Fasaki! And no one can complain that Ejiro broke the rules, since there weren’t any to begin with!” Hitting the floor and collapsing immediately, Ejiro raises an arm to the people who are only too happy to continue their disparaging commentary for the ending of this contest. But even as the referee squirts into the ring to check on the condition of the high flyer, Fasaki manages to pull his body up against the side of the cage. Moving over to the timekeeper, Fasaki snags away both the United States Title belt as well as the Hardcore Gamers Title that still belongs to Wildchild. Coming through the same door as the referee, Ejiro Fasaki wanders over to the hump of humanity that used to be Wildchild. Almost casually nudging Matthew Kivell away from his new charge with a kick to the back of the head, Ejiro looks poised to add even more punishment to the downed Human Hurricane. “Oh come on,” calls out Mark Stevens. “There is no reason for Ejiro Fasaki to do anything to Wildchild! The match is over!” Wildchild looks up at Fasaki with a furious glare, wary of any on coming chicanery. But with no air coming into his lungs and a completely battered body, is there really anything he can do to stop his new cruel master? Who simply drops the Hardcore Title onto the chest of his new student? “Come on,” mouths Fasaki as he nudges his head in the direction of the ramp way back to the dressing room. Grabbing Wildchild by the arm, Fasaki pulls the stunned Hardcore Champion off the mat. Leaving the Bahamas Bomber behind in the cage, Rule steps between the ropes and out of the ring. Turning back to Wildchild, Fasaki motions for the defeated man to follow him before heading back up the ramp. Slowly and cautiously following his new sensei, Wildchild looks carefully for any sign of deceit as he struggles behind the United States Champion. “What an odd situation we have here fans,” notes Stevens. “One just has to wonder what the devil Ejiro Fasaki has in store for Wildchild now that they are tied together as teacher and student.” “It will only lead to success for Wildchild!” calls out Riley. “He’ll be a wrecking machine! Just you wait!” ================ Flashback to: August 15, 2003 - SWF Storm Ejiro answers this blatant show of disrespect, “You know something, there are times I get the distinct impression that you people don’t like your own country. Now I know that the fact that Arnold is probably going to be governor of California is a might bit disconcerting and all, but that’s the democratic process for you. In this country, even a filthy German can eventually pretend to be American enough to fool a bunch of illegal immigrants in a state that doesn’t even have power half the time.” The Comet replies to this tirade, “What the dukes? I don’t believe this young chap is all that patriotic at all. And isn’t Arnold from Austria?” Ejiro continues, “But the thing of it is, America being the land of opportunity, I think it’s interesting to note that I am being denied the opportunity to come out here tonight and wrestle. And make no mistake; it is very important that I wrestle. Because I represent all of the contiguous United States, Guam, and newly added to the list this week… Canada! Because after all, Canada is just like the United States anyway they are all just in a gigantic state of denial. Plus we would all be enjoying a higher quality of maple syrup and doesn’t that make taking in their great big moose loving asses into our fair country?" "Seriously, I don’t even have to wrestle as a single! Justice and Rule are ready and waiting for our rematch for the World Tag Team titles. Although we surely understand that the boss likes actual competition for the belts, after all we let all the other tag teams in the federation fight it out for the belts for weeks now in some of the most pointless matches in the history of the federation. After all, Justice and Rule are quite simply the greatest tag team in history and all the other teams here are a bunch of shadowy nothings.” Ejiro continues, “But the whole point of this is not for me to want and rave regarding my terrible mistreatment or the horrible state of bacon. Oh no, I have a much more important thing to share with each and ever one of you. For you see, folks, there was a little wager on that steel cage match that I just barely managed to win on Pay Per View at Ground Zero, check local listings for the replay. And as a result of my courageous victory over the foreign menace known as The Bahamas, I now have my very own protégé. That’s right, its like I have my own personal United Kingdom that will do anything I tell him! So without further ado, allow me to present to all of you …the new! The improved… The one and only… WILDCHILLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLD~!” Coming through the ring curtain with not exactly the same pep as the United States champion saunters the Human Hurricane. But this is not the same hardcore champion that most of the fans are used to, but we’ll get to that in a moment. Stoically walking up the stairs at ringside, Wildchild steps into the ring and stands right in front of his new trainer. And it is there where we learn a whole lot about Wildchild’s new look… “Wow! Look at you, Wildchild!” marvels Ejiro Fasaki. “First of all, I think its very important to note that you are now dressing better with your shiny, new Justice and Rule jersey! You are now wearing better footwear… since you’re actually wearing footwear. But don’t worry, WC, those boat shoes are so comfortable that it is just like not wearing shoes at all! And most of all, you’re carrying a much better flag than that of The Bahamas. That’s right… it’s OLD GLORY!” Focusing in on Wildchild displays all of the horrible truth about what Ejiro Fasaki has been saying. Wildchild is indeed wearing a Justice and Rule Jersey. He is indeed wearing boat shoes. And he is indeed carrying the flag of the United States over his shoulder. But oddly none of these improvements have done a thing to make Wildchild a happier person to be around. The Bahama Bomber scowls fiercely at Ejiro as he continues to talk: “But you know something, Dub Cee? I think that this is just the tip of the iceberg my man. I think we can do better. So, as you stand there, the best you’ve every looked to me. I know that looks aren’t everything and that we can make you an even better performer. So just want all of you fans to remember that!” “FU FASAKI! FU FASAKI! FU FASAKI!” “So as your United States Champion works to make your Hardcore Champion a better champion, I just want everyone to remember that I have a LOT of work to do. But, it’s rewarding work; already, I’ve seen a change in this young man. A change for the better! In just a few short days, I have already begun to teach Wildchild the fine art of mat wrestling. By the time I’m through with him, he’ll be so comfortable on the mat, that he’ll never want to climb the ropes again!” Ejiro pauses to soak in the adulation of his fans, but is only met by the now familiar chant: “FU FASAKI! FU FASAKI! FU FASAKI!” “Just to prove how much progress I’ve made with Wildchild already, I’ve arranged a little exhibition to demonstrate what he’s learned.” As they walk down towards the ring, the United States Champion continues, “what you’re about to see is a fraction of the wisdom I intend to bestow upon him. I’m going to shape this young man like clay; remove all the impurities, such as his annoying high-risk offense, and his obsessive need to please you poor misguided people…” “FU FASAKI! FU FASAKI! FU FASAKI!” Ignoring the jeers, Ejiro goes on, “… and remold him in my image! You will all witness and be amazed, as the Wildchild that you know and love begins to vanish before your very eyes, leaving only a pure wrestler in his place!” Pleased with himself, Ejiro breaks into a wide grin as the crowd boos lustily. “I say,” says an outraged Cyclone Comet as he begins to stand up. “Someone must put a stop to that scoundrel’s dastardly plans! And that someone is CYCLOOOOO…” Bobby places a hand on Comet’s shoulder and gently guides him back down to his seat. “You don’t do that any more, Comet. Remember? The doctor said no more fighting dastardly evil doers for you…” “Be careful with that flag, Wildchild,” orders Ejiro as Wildchild steps between the ropes… End Flashback: Announcer: “Rolex: We bring the workrate!” FADE OUT

FADE IN… Smarkdown returns to Copenhagen, Denmark and to an overly enthusiastic crowd. It’s still early, but with this promising of a show the energy of the fans is already running wild! “Welcome back to S-W-F Smarkdown!” bellows the voice of Longdogger Pete as the cameras make a final sweeping pass of the crowd before shifting the cameras focus to the announcers table. “We’ve already seen two action-packed and exhilarating matches this evening which can only get more electrifying as we prepare for our next round of action!” “Well while I certainly don’t share your same enthusiasm for what we’ve already seen, this next match should be a dozy,” King says. “Johnny Dangerous goes up against Mak Francis as he continues the road to Ground Zero.” “Speaking of Johnny Dangerous,” sighs Pete. “After seeing the message he delivered to Ejiro Fasaki and his own tag team partner the Wildchild on Lockdown, you’ve got to be wondering what kind of a road he intends to travel. He blatantly disrespected our World Champion; saying he wasn’t worthy of holding that crown and insinuating that come Ground Zero Ejiro Fasaki won’t even be the World Champion, anyway!” “You make a mountain out of a mole hill, Drain-Clogger! The Barracuda was simply showing support for his confidant, the Wildchild, who challenges Ejiro for the World Championship tonight,” argues King. “Besides, who wouldn’t look forward to a friendly and competitive match of Wild versus Dangerous?” “You’re so full of it!” snaps Pete. “It’s been your desire to see this team part ways since it originated – it’d be a dream come true for you, King! I, for one, don’t see a potential meeting in the ring between Wildchild and Johnny Dangerous as anything but bad.” “How could it be bad!? Johnny Dangerous has made huge strides in recent times and is on the verge of becoming one of the best Superstars on our current roster! You know what your problem is, McDougal? You’re just jealous because you are not a beautiful person!” “Jesus Christ,” mutters Pete. “I have no desire to continue this discussion. Funyon is standing by so let’s turn it over to him.” DING DING DING!!! The ringing of the timekeeper’s bell draws all attention to Funyon inside the ring. “Ladies and Gentlemen,” he says. “Introducing first in the following contest scheduled for one fall…” The house lights shut off as the wispy sounds of a digital xylophone echo throughout the arena. You can feel the pulsation of the light dings, as a hard beat done by violins, suddenly strikes up slightly overshadowing the original background rhythm. “So do you wanna’ be a Franchise… And live large… A big house… five cars…” The SmarkTron flares up with a blue and white photonegative image of Mak Francis, which is followed by ‘The Franchise’ in large green lettering, flashing on the screen in time with the beat. “The rent charge… Comin’ up in the world, don’t trust nobody… Gotta’ look over your shoulder constantly!” As the opening lyrics from Rock Superstar by Cypress Hill, slightly altered of course, blare over the PA system, it takes a little while but eventually the self proclaimed franchise makes his way through the curtain. The lights come back up and Francis comes out onto the stage, tilting his shades down on the bridge of his nose, before looking left and then right… “I remember the days, when I was a young kid grownin’ up… Lookin’ in the mirror dreamin’ about blowin’ up!” That cues multiple short bursts of green pyrotechnics erupting from either side of him. He readjusts his shades with a smirk, before slowly strolling down to ringside and after walking up the ring steps, he cockily wipes his feet on the apron, giving a salute to the crowd, before entering through the middle ropes. Francis climbs the nearest turnbuckle and poses with both fists raised in the air. “From Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, and weighing in at two hundred-forty pounds; he is… ‘The Franchise’ MAAAAAAAAAAAAAK FRAAAANCIIIS!!” “The last time we saw Francis in action was against Danny Williams at 13th Hour,” notes Pete. “Things didn’t exactly go as well as he’d planned but maybe tonight he can get back into the groove by defeating the Challenger for Ground Zero.” “Maybe, but I wouldn’t bank too hard on it,” says King. “I think Johnny is using Francis here as preparation for Ground Zero. If he ends up facing Ejiro at the pay-per-view this is the best way to pratice – by taking on an even better hooker than Ejiro.” Suddenly, a voice picks up on the speakers, whispering a name in a deep, sultry voice… “Johnny Dangerous~!” …and the Parken Stadium erupts! The edgy metal anthem ‘After the Flesh’ roars through the speakers as smoke begins to pour onto the stage, covering the entryway with its thick white haze. Rapidly flashing in the background is a series of strobe lights that give an eerie presence to the Barracuda as he moves through the swirling smoke, the tail of his trench coat fluttering in the back draft, before he is fully revealed at the top of the ramp way. “From Las Vegas, Nevada,” bellows Funyon, “and weighing in at two hundred and seventeen pounds; he is… JOHNNY ‘THE BAAARRACUDAAAAA’ DAAAAAAANGEROUUUS!!” Johnny heads down the ramp and slides into the ring. He comes to his feet and immediately locks eyes with his opponent. Francis moves to the middle of the ring, half expecting the Barracuda to suddenly rush in, but Johnny simply heads towards the corner post, brushing past Francis… then quickly shooting for Mak’s leg to haul him up and over with his patented fallaway slam! “Johnny’s going for the element of total surprise here!” exclaims Pete, but Dangerous doesn’t get too far with this tactic – Mak shoves off of Johnny’s shoulders, landing just slightly to the side of the secret agent as referee Ronald Herrington quickly signals for the bell! DING DING DING!!! Mak rushes towards Johnny, now a little steamed that the Barracuda would even implore such a tactic, and catches him square in the side of his head with an elbow! CRACK! “This match is on!” exclaims Pete as Johnny’s head snaps back from the blow, and the crowd goes wild with the bell signifying the start of this anticipated bout! Francis advances on the Barracuda, slamming two more elbows into the side of his face before grabbing his arm to send him barreling across the ring with an Irish whip! As Johnny goes towards the ropes Hawke stoops down, anticipating Dangerous’ return, but the return never comes – Johnny quickly grabbing onto the ropes to keep himself away from harms reach. However, if he won’t come towards harm it’ll just have to go to him. Francis suddenly bolts towards Johnny, but the Barracuda isn’t going to just stand there and watch as his opponent races in towards him – Johnny comes off the ropes and levels The Franchise with a short clothesline! WHAM! The blow catches Mak by total surprise, knocking him flat on his back, but he quickly jumps back up to his feet… WHAM! …Only to get knocked back down once more with another clothesline! The fans howl in excitement at the Barracuda’s growing momentum, but the two clotheslines only start to enrage the Francis. “This match is starting off with a tremendous bang!” exclaims Pete. “Both of these competitors are giving the other man everything he’s got!” “They’d better slow down if they want to come out of this with the victory,” warns King. “They’re going to end up wearing themselves out in the first five minutes!” Once more Francis pops back up to his feet, this time quickly jumping to the defensive. Johnny is stopped across the ring, grinning at his opponent, and then he steps forward – moving to encircle Mak as some chants for the Secret Agent break out: “JOOOOOOHN-E!” “JOOOOOOHN-E!” “JOOOOOOHN-E!” The chants of the Idaho crowd get a grinning nod from Johnny. It’s almost as if he were trying to rile up his opponent by showing him who’s side the fans were on, but the notion is taken in no regards from Francis. Especially since the chants quickly move towards showing support for Mak Francis! “FRAAAAAAAAN-CHISE!” “FRAAAAAAAAN-CHISE!” “FRAAAAAAAAN-CHISE!” “FRAAAAAAAAN-CHISE!” Finally, the two men come together and clash with a collar-elbow-tie up, fighting for purchase! It’s a bait and switch though, as Johnny has no desire to try and out-muscle The Franchise and quickly breaks the tie up while grabbing his opponent’s arm and spinning around behind him for a hammerlock! The Barracuda cranks back on the arm, but Mak isn’t about to start handing over body parts this early on without a fight! He suddenly spins around, ripping his arm free of Johnny’s grasp and nailing the Secret Agent in the jaw with an elbow! CRACK! Johnny stumbles back with a hand to his jaw, feeling his lip for blood as he angrily glares at his opponent. The feeling is mutual, and Mak stares back just as well--rather intensely as he knows he finally got one in over Dangerous --while taking the half second he has to work the kink out of his shoulder. The heated moment sends a buzz through the Copenhagen crowd, and they move to the edge of their seats. Chants erupt from all corners of the arena as the two competitors snarl at each other and bare down on their knuckles, seemingly growing more irate by the minute! “Will you just listen to these fans,” marvels Pete. “I never imagined this match would get these fans so excited!” Suddenly, Johnny rockets towards the Franchise and fakes with a left then quickly slings a right into Mak’s mouth! WHAM! “RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!” The fans explode into cheers, thrilled that this match just might be filled with more ruthlessness than originally expected. However, the blow doesn’t even seem to faze Francis, and he fires back with a forearm into the side of Dangerous’ skull! WHACK! Johnny immediately stumbles back, unable to take the blows without flinching like his opponent, and if Mak has it his way… the Barracuda will be doing a lot more than flinching in the next few minutes! He quickly closes in with a second forearm…then a third, each hit knocking Dangerous a step closer to the ropes! Though dazed, Johnny frantically reaches back to feel for the ropes and to have something to grab onto, but before he can reach them Francis grabs him by the arm and whips him across the ring! Johnny hits the ropes and bounces back towards the Franchise, who begins the motions of a lariat, but before he can connect Johnny ducks down and blazes right under Mak’s arm! He races right past Francis, heading straight for the ropes behind his opponent and picking up some serious steam! He hits the ropes and springs off them to go screaming back towards his opponent, and then jumps up… WHAM! …and slams into the Franchise with a flying body press! He catches Mak just as he was spinning back around to face him, and hits so hard that he violently sends Francis crashing down into the canvas! Johnny stays right on top of his opponent, hoping for a quick pin as Herrington drops to count for… ONE!! NOOO!!! Francis, using everything he’s got, shoves the Barracuda off of him, ending the count just before two! Francis tries to quickly get to his feet and get back on the defensive path, but his nimble opponent greets him with a boot to the gut! Mak doubles over and Johnny snags him in a side headlock. He clenches down as hard as he can then starts to pull the Franchise across the ring, fully intending to clothesline him across the top rope. However, Mak isn’t about to let any of those shenanigans play out though and he quickly slams on the brakes, shoving Dangerous away. Johnny keeps on going, heads across the ring once more then hits the ropes and comes rocketing back towards Francis. Like before, the Franchise looks to catch the Barracuda with a lariat only this time… WHACK! “RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!” …it connects, and he sends Johnny to the mat with a thunderous clothesline! Now it’s Mak’s turn to make for the cover, and he does so with Herrington counting for… ONE!! TW-NOOO!!!! Johnny kicks out right in the middle of two! Francis grabs the Barracuda by his head and pulls him to his feet, tossing in a few shots to Johnny’s midsection to keep him subdued before spinning him around and locking his hands around the Barracuda’s waist from behind! Dangerous knows what’s coming up next and it’s all he can do to frantically grapevine his leg around Francis’ as the Franchise tries to haul him over for a German. It stops the suplex as intended, giving Johnny enough time to send an elbow flying back into his opponent’s skull! Mak grunts from the blow, but doesn’t budge until three more elbows thrown in rapid succession coming firing back at him! Finally, the strikes pay off and Francis staggers back off the Secret Agent, releasing his hands from Johnny’s waist. But it seems to only enrage the Franchise even more, and he charges right back in, just when Dangerous thought he had a second to breathe… WHAM! …and clubs him right in the spine with a closed fist! Johnny arches back, crying out in pain as the crowd “OOOOOH”S!” from the hollow, bone filled THUNK~! that pierces the sound waves! “OH!” Pete winces at the hit. “Mak Francis is pulling out all the stops to try and put the Barracuda away. I don’t think he realizes what he’s dealing with—who he’s in the ring with—cause we’ve all seen what happens when the Barracuda unleashes all his frustrations in the ring!” “He knows damn well who’s in that ring with him,” snaps King, “and he isn’t about to let that goofball upstage him in a match!” Hawke quickly seizes his opponent once more from behind then hauls him up, and over, and into the canvas, neck-and-shoulders first with a German suplex! WHAM! Then immediately floats over for the cover. ONEE!! TWOOO!!!! NOOOOO!!!!!! Johnny thrusts his shoulder of the mat just after two, saving himself from a loss for the time being. “Mak Francis goes for the suplex once more, only this time he gets it and earns a two count,” says Pete. “Thus bringing his power package to the table; only tonight he’s not just bringing it, he’s heaving it onto the table! If Agent Dangerous has any realistic plans of winning this match he’s going to have to keep the distance and move the match with quick strikes.” Francis moves to reacquire the shaken Barracuda before he can get to a vertical position on his own; grabbing Johnny by his head and jerking him to his feet. Mak quickly pulls Johnny into a headlock to keep the pressure on his opponent and gradually wear him down until Dangerous has nothing left to offer. That time has yet to come though, and before the Franchise has the chance to tighten his grip and crush the Secret Agent like a trash compactor, Johnny jams his elbow into Francis’ gut! The Franchise grunts on impact and Johnny fires another shot in, this time with a little more force behind it. The elbows themselves don’t really do much damage, but they certainly distract him from his goal, and eventually allowing the Barracuda to slip out of harms reach. Johnny quickly darts across the ring, hits the ropes and comes rocketing back towards Mak, just as he suddenly spins back around with a forearm leading the way! WHOOSH! Johnny dodges the forearm smash by ducking down and spinning away from the oncoming arm then fluidly moves right into a roundhouse kick! He nails the Franchise right in his abdomen, stunning Mak as he doubles over while clenching his wound. Johnny takes the one second opening that his opponent gives him and moves right into a Russian Leg Sweep! Mak goes crashing into the mat after having his legs swept out from under him, and Johnny quickly jumps up then arches back while bringing out his elbow… WHACK! …and sinks the point of his elbow directly into Mak Francis’ sternum! The Franchise quivers on impact, but stays on his back as Johnny floats over for a cover. ONEE!!! TWOOO!!!!!! KICKOUT!!!!!!!!! “Again, Francis slips out of the pin attempt,” says King, as the Franchise thrusts his shoulders off the mat then rolls onto his stomach and pushes up off the mat, “proving that it’s going to take a lot more than anything Johnny has to offer to put him down!” “I wouldn’t be so sure, Brian,” Longdogger firmly replies. “I think Johnny is starting to realize that he needs to let his instincts in the martial arts guide him in this match. If anything it’s definitely allowed him to take control of this match.” “Yeah, but how long is that going to last?” ponders King as Francis gets to his knees only to find the Barracuda charging back towards him! Johnny dives at his opponent feet-first, but the Franchise quickly rolls out of the way… “Oof!” …and Johnny lands flat on his back in the most unflattering of mannerisms. He flushes bright red and quickly pops back up to his feet… WHACK! Only for Francis to charge in with a forearm smash that sends the Barracuda rocking on his heels! Johnny staggers back against the ropes, semi-stunned, but still coherent enough to quickly duck down as Mak rushes forward with a second forearm smash. Johnny pops up from behind then braces himself to deliver a Johnny Kick! The crowd moves to the edge of their seats, and as the Franchise turns back around to face his opponent, Johnny launches his foot into the air--his targeting reticules locked onto Francis’ chin! “NOBODY HOME!” exclaims King as Mak frantically leans back to avoid the blast and grabs the Barracuda by his ankle, snatching it straight out of mid-air! Johnny gasps in horror, but before he can readjust his plan the Franchise flips him to the mat, flat on his face, “-and here comes the Million Dollar Dream!” cries Pete. “Mak Francis has got Johnny down, and if he can lock that devastating submission in this could spell disaster for Agent Dangerous!” Mak reaches down and locks a full nelson on Dangerous to pull him up. However, it’s not without Johnny trying to fight him the entire time, preventing Mak from getting his powerful clutch locked all the way in. “I think Johnny knows that he can’t withstand the Franchise’s submissions,” says Pete as Johnny continues to buck and flail, and finally worms his way out of the hold. Johnny, in an effort to distance himself as far away from Mak as possible, bolts across the ring, hits the ropes and comes charging back! Johnny swings his arm out for a lariat, but Francis ducks under the arm then quickly snags the Barracuda in a full nelson once more! “There it is again!” shrills Pete. Mak pulls Johnny in, trying to get a firm grip on him once more, but like before Dangerous’ struggle makes it nearly impossible to get a good hold on him. Johnny pulls his arms out of the full nelson then reaches back, grabbing around Francis’ chin before dropping to the mat with a quick, yet stunning diamond cutter! WHAM! “RRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!” “Diamond Cutter! That came completely out of left field!” Herrington drops to count as Johnny makes a over for: ONE!!! TWO!!!!!! THREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DING DING DING!!! “the winner of this match by pinfall,” bellows Funyon,” JOHNNY “THE BARRAUDA’ DANGEROUS!!” “Holy shit!” exclaims King. “He got him! I can’t believe it, but the Barracuda just defeated Mak Francis, catching him by total surprise with that Diamond Cutter!” “Color me surprised as well,” agrees Pete. “Mak couldn’t quite lock that Cobra Clutch in to seal the deal – Johnny narrowly escaping it both times. You have to be wondering though, as much as the Barracuda put up a fight against that submission it seemed like he knew that he couldn’t get out of it. I hope Ejiro paid attention to this match because if he can retain against Wildchild he may already have found the way to beat Dangerous at Ground Zero – things are really starting to pick up!” Johnny quickly makes his exit, leaving Mak in the ring alone. He’s still a little stunned, but he knows what just happened... As We: FADE OUT.

FADE IN Announcer: “SWF Smarkdown presents, “A Moment in Time,” brought to you by Rolex: the Tom Flesher of watches!” Flashback to: November 29, 2002 - SJL Crimson … Standing up as WildChild gets to his knees, Ejiro quickly catches WildChild in a reverse mount and uses his legs to force WildChild all the way flat against the platform. And again, Ejiro goes back to his elbow and slowly, methodically drives it into the back of WildChild’s cranium. Rolling off a rather limp WildChild, Ejiro gets up to his knees and holds his chest closely, feeling his ribs to see if he can feel any break. Content for the moment, Ejiro corrals WildChild and pulls him to the edge of the platform. Hooking WildChild up, Ejiro looks to suplex WildChild all the way over to the ring below! “Oh sweet Jesus, no! This could kill them both!” screams Axis as the fans again rise up in unison at the prospect of seeing one of these magnificent athletes fall to the canvas below. Ejiro lifts WildChild up with all of his might but his ribs are unwilling to cooperate and WildChild manages to force his way back down to the platform. Driving knees up and into Ejiro’s gut, WildChild manages to free himself from Ejiro’s grip. Quickly grabbing Ejiro around the head and neck, WildChild arches back and sends Ejiro tumbling over with the... “JUNKANOO!!!.... OH HELLLLL! “Fasaki nearly got suplexed all the way off the platform!” Indeed Fasaki gets sent across the width of the scaffold and ends up almost hanging off the platform but he barely manages to hold on and scampers back all the way onto the relative safety of the platform with the speed only a severe adrenaline rush can grant. Breathing even more heavily now, Ejiro’s eyes go incredibly wide as WildChild slowly pulls himself up having exerted so much energy muscling Ejiro up for that suplex. WildChild finally manages to get himself together and rises up to collect Fasaki once again. This time pulling Fasaki even closer to the edge, WildChild again cinches up for the wrist clutch exploder but his time, Ejiro uses his free arm to grab WildChild by the hair and jam a head BUTT into the bridge of WildChild’s nose to force a break. “Ejiro was not going to get suplexed again, Axis. He would have bitten WildChild’s eye out if he had to, but he was going to break free.” Rearing back, Ejiro again slams his elbow across WildChild’s face and sends the man from the Bahamas staggering backward. Another elbow and WildChild back up another step. Another elbow and another step. Again and again, Ejiro drives WildChild back to the edge of the platform. And with WildChild teetering at the brink, Ejiro quickly breaks into a pivot for one last screaming elbow! “BLOCKED!” roars Axis! “WildChild blocked the elbow with his hands, and OH NO! Double chicken wing! You know what that means! WILD RIDE! “NOOOO!” shouts The Suicide King! “Ejiro just used a mule kick to catch WildChild low! The double arm!” shouts Axis as the crowd screams in horror. EJIROCATION! OFF THE FUCKING SCAFFOLD!” “Fasaki jerked WildChild up and just released him off the platform!” calls King! “Oh sweet bleeding god.” “I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to say. Someone, anyone, come get WildChild some medical attention. He just got dropped from twenty feet in the air and landed right on his back. I ... uh.... Take a look at this. Watch what happens...” On the SmarkTron bird’s eye camera, we clearly see Ejiro grab WildChild around the arms. Jerking WildChild upside down, Ejiro walks over to the edge of the platform and simply allows WildChild to fall from his grasp and plummet to the mat far below. And as medical personal surround WildChild on the mat, Funyon calls from the arena floor, “The winner of this match and STILL European Champion, EEEEEEJIROOOOOO FASAKIIIIIII!” And standing high above his broken and battered opponent, Ejiro Fasaki simply looks down at his enemy and... Smiles. Axis is set off, “That sick bastard, how can he take joy in this? In what he has done to another human being? Well screw you Ejiro Fasaki. I hope you rot in hell for what you have done here tonight to another man. I hope you rot in hell...” ============= Flashback to: January 26, 2003 - SJL Malice in Wonderland “MAGNIFICENT counter by the champion,” crows the King triumphantly. “Fasaki has been a step ahead of Wildchild this entire match… and look! He’s going for the Crossface,” as Ejiro grapevines Wildchild’s arm and reaches forward to secure the cobra clutch. “Cobra Crossface! It’s all over!” ”The Emperor” wrenches back with all the force he can muster, causing excruciating pain to shoot throughout the challenger’s spinal column. “It’s time for me to end this little game,” he growls into Wildchild’s ear loud enough for the camera crew to pick. “I’m through with you as of now! You’ve never been at my level, and you never will be! I am your lord and master in this ring, and I don’t have any more time to waste on you! You’ve stood in my way for the last time!” Pulling back once more with as much force as he can muster, Ejiro attempts to once and for all force Wildchild to admit just who is the winner in this long and bloody feud. But Wildchild is not about to just tap out no matter what the cost. But Ejiro has the cobra crossface cinched in like a human python and screams out to his opponent, “TAP! TAAAAAAP!” But still Wildchild refuses to call it quits, regardless of the pain and mounting pressure to fall unconscious. It’s now or never for the Bahama Bomber and using the only free part of his anatomy that he has, his legs, Wildchild begins to push up and against Fasaki’s grip. But Ejiro presses his legs down across the mat as well and refuses to allow Wildchild to simply push them both into the ropes. But Ejiro cannot do that and apply as much pressure as he would like to the hold itself, so at least Wildchild has allowed himself an opportunity to think up something else. And so he does, quickly up on the balls of his feet, Wildchild begins to walk both Ejiro and himself to one side and closer to the ropes. Reaching out with his legs, Wildchild finally manages to hook the bottom rope with his ankle and forces “The Emperor” to release the hold. Or at least that is what the champion should be doing. “Come on Ejiro! Release the hold!” calls out Matthew Kivell over the sound of the arena as he tries to get Fasaki to break cleanly. But the World Champion has no interest in the referee’s orders at the moment. Frustrated and angry, the referee begins his five count towards disqualification… ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FIV… EJIRO BREAKS JUST IN TIME! “Whew,” sighs Axis, “I thought Fasaki was never going to let Wildchild loose from that crossface, King, and that we might have a disqualification that absolutely no one wants to see.” The Gambling Man answers, “Come on, Axis, The World Champion is way too smart to just let himself get disqualified. He truly wants to beat Wildchild one more time before this feud ends. And he cannot do that if he gets himself disqualified. He was just utilizing the crossface as well as he could before he was forced to break.” And Wildchild felt every extra second in that hold as he struggles to get some sort of chance to recover as both his shoulder and head continue to ache from the punishment of the cobra crossface. But an angry Fasaki is not about to give him any more opportunities to come back from the brink. Quickly pulling Wildchild’s head in between his legs, Ejiro pulls the number one contender vertical into space before driving him strait into the canvas with a deadly piledriver that causes Wildchild to bounce a foot into the air after impact! But Fasaki is not pleased enough with that, so he once again pulls Wildchild off the canvas and once again spikes him into the canvas with another piledriver! Flopping to the canvas like a fish out of water, Wildchild holds onto his neck as though a guillotine just hadn’t managed to go all the way through and was caught half way through. But Fasaki is still not satisfied as he once again collects Wildchild and places his head between the World Champion’s legs once more. “Oh sweet Jesus,” cries Axis, “He’s trying to cripple Wildchild! Ejiro has this match won and he’s going for permanent injury instead.” “Well… those are the breaks!” laughs The Suicide King as Fasaki pulls Wildchild vertical to the canvas once more. Holding Wildchild in the air longer this time, Fasaki steps around in a circle in order to display his prize to the entire audience of people that are horrified at what might happen to their wrestler of choice in this contest. Looking from side to side with a smirk, Ejiro jumps into the air once more before crushing Wildchild against the canvas with one, final piledriver. And this time, Wildchild does not clutch his head and neck in pain. His body does not flail wildly on the canvas. He simply hits the canvas and ceases to move. Still on his seat from the final piledriver, Ejiro looks out to the people and laughs a sick little laugh as he ever so slowly pushes Wildchild over onto his stomach and lays across his body for the inevitable… ONE! TWO! THREOHHHHHHHHHHHHHELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! “HE KICKED OUT! HE KICKED OUT! HE KICKED OUT!” orgasms Axis like Jim Ross on crack, “I cannot believe it! Wildchild got out at a count of two! What a display of guts and determination!” “… It … It… It doesn’t matter! He’s not coming back and Fasaki is going to make sure of it right now!” Slapping the mat as though the world had just come to an end and it turns out that God actually hates him, Fasaki holds onto his hair and screams in horror. What does he have to do in order to put Wildchild away this time? What can he use that will keep the Bahama Bomber down for one last time? Finally a solution is reached as he pulls a still rather limp Wildchild off the mat and hauls him up to his shoulder once more. “He’s going for the tombstone once again! This move worked so well for him earlier that he’s going to try and put Wildchild away with it!” says Axis. Pulling Wildchild’s head down between his knees, Ejiro looks to end this thing one and for all. But Wildchild has other plans! Using the little strength he has left, Wildchild pulls his legs apart before slamming them across Fasaki’s head with as much force as he can muster. Staggered by the blow, Ejiro is knocked back a step with the force of the shot. So once more, Wildchild slams his legs around Fasaki’s head and causes the World Champion to begin to fall backward! With his feet on the mat once more, Wildchild uses his underrated strength to jerk Fasaki up into the air and reverse the tombstone position! Walking the helpless Fasaki to where he wants him, Wildchild hops into the air and spikes Ejiro into the canvas as hard as he can. The Emperor’s head crashes into the mat at an awkward angle as his spine contracts against the weight if his own body. But instead of going for the cover, the Bahama Bomber has some other plans. For with Fasaki in as much trouble as he is, Wildchild thinks to himself that it will not be enough. So the Wildchild quickly slaps himself across the head to clear the cobwebs and begins the long climb up to the top rope. Axis remarks to the fans, “Wildchild’s making his move to the top! And he’s being very careful not to go up too quickly this time… It looks like he’s not going to be falling off the top until he wants to this time!” “Come on Ejiro! MOVE!” shouts The Suicide King in the desperate chance that Ejiro can hear him and react at the same time. But The World Champion can and does neither of those things. So, the deadly Wildchild centers himself on the top with his back to the ring as Fasaki barely shows a single sign of life on the canvas. And then without any further hesitation, Wildchild takes to air with his patented… FALLING! STAR! PRESS! BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM! AND FASAKI GETS CRUSHED! “It’s over!” ONE! “It’s over!” TWO! “IT’S OVER!” THREEEEEEEEEEEENOOOOOOOOOOOOOFUCKINGWAYYYYYYYYYYYYYY! “I don’t believe it! What will it take for this match to end?” questions Axis as he wipes the sweat from his brow. “And neither can Wildchild! He finally hits one of those big time moves he’s been trying to do all match long and Fasaki STILL manages to get a shoulder out! Face it Wildchild! You cannot pin that man!” Perhaps realizing the same thing, Wildchild hammers the canvas with his hand for a moment or two in complete and total frustration. Staggering to his feet, the challenger almost falls into the ropes as he points at Fasaki’s unmoving carcass and yells out obscenities like they are going out of style. Kicking the ropes in a fit of rage, Wildchild looks back at Fasaki as though the World Champion had just done the impossible. Slowly that look of rage turns to an almost sadness as Wildchild struggles to come up with something that might put the World Champion away and prove that Wildchild has what it takes to defeat anyone in this business. Finally coming up with something, Wildchild claws the air for just a moment before drawing his hands into his body to tell the people that it is time to go for a Wild Ride! Pulling Fasaki off the canvas, Wildchild slaps on front facelock before reaching down to grab Ejiro’s leg in preparation for the Wild Ride 2003! Lifting Ejiro high in the air, Wildchild looks to end this thing right then and there. But Fasaki is not going like that! Kicking with his free leg as much as he can, Ejiro manages to escape the hold and slide down Wildchild’s back to escape! Quickly grabbing Wildchild from behind, Ejiro arches back and scores with a … “BACKDROPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPA!” screams Axis in his trademark style. “Fasaki is not going for the cover though! He’s going for the Tombstone once again!” calls The Suicide King. “He is going to pay Wildchild back the way he reversed the last one!” Flipping Wildchild onto his shoulder for the third time in this match, Ejiro holds his most hated challenger high as The Emperor raises his arm high in impending victory. But that is never a good idea and Wildchild begins to kick himself loose from the piledriver and slides down Ejiro’s back just as Fasaki had done moments earlier. But he did not slide down alone! Because as Wildchild went over the top, he hooked Ejiro’s head on the way! And now Wildchild has Ejiro in a dragon sleeper! “A submission move from Wildchild! A submission move from Wildchild?” asks Axis. Indeed it is Axis! And Wildchild is not done yet! Holding onto the dragon sleeper, Wildchild places a foot into the back of Ejiro’s leg and forces him down to his knees! The Bahama Bomber quickly uses that move to his advantage and moves from the dragon sleeper to the even more deadly DRAGON CLUTCH! Ejiro screams out in pain as Wildchild continues to wrench away on the hold… pulling and tearing away at Fasaki’s head as the referee checks in… once… twice… TAP! TAP! TAP! “OH MY GOD! IT’S OVER! FASAKI TAPPED OUT! HE TAPPED OUT!!! WE HAVE A NEW CHAMPION OF THE WORLD!” DING! DING! DING! Wildchild releases the hold and allows Fasaki to slump to the canvas as the fans in attendance let loose with the loudest cheer of the night! Leaping up into the air, Wildchild pumps his fist high as Funyon makes the official announcement… “Ladies and Gentlemen…. The winner and NEWWWWWWWWWWW SJL Heavyweight Champion of the WOOOOOOOOOOOOOORLD WILLLLLLLLLLDCHILLLLLLLLLLLD!” Pyrotechnics blast into the air once more as balloons and confetti release from the rafters and showers the ring. And as Ejiro Fasaki rolls out of the ring and makes his way down the ramp way, Wildchild continues to celebrate in the ring as Kivell hands him his new title belt! Quickly coming down the aisle come Dace Night and Johnny Dangerous to congratulate their partner on this success. Meeting both of his friends with a hug, Wildchild looks out to the people as the other members of the Wild and Dangerous Nights lift his arms to the air in victory as the people continue to shower Wildchild with praise. Kivell quickly fetches the world title belt from the timekeeper, and hands it up and into the ring to Johnny Dangerous as the Wildchild continues to salute the fans for their support. Coming up from the side, Johnny and Dace place the World Title around the waist of the new Champion who has worked so hard to get to his point. With the title finally secured, Dace and Johnny duck low and hoist Wildchild up on their shoulder to show to the crowd their new champion as Axis and The Suicide King look on. “What a moment this has to be for Wildchild, King. What a moment for everyone in this arena! As finally, WildChild proves just who the best man is and always has been.” “BAH! He got lucky!” “Not even you can diminish what Wildchild has accomplished here tonight, King. He came out and beat the man and now… he is the man!” End Flashback: Announcer: “Rolex: We bring the workrate!” FADE OUT

“This next match is sure to please the fans in attendance tonight.” Pete says. “Yeah right, we have a spot monkey who by the way is on a losing streak.” King grins before continuing, “And his opponent is Todd Cortez, the worst tag partner a person could ever have. If you don’t believe me just ask Landon Maddix.” OH NO! *BANG* Pyro shoots off at the entranceway as “Oh No” plays across The Parken stadium. The pyro shooting from both sides of the ramp covers the familiar figure at the top of the ramp. The figure then walks out in full clear vision of the crowd. “YEAAAHHH!!!” The fans cheer as “Urban Legend” Todd Cortez makes his way down to the ring. Todd is sporting a bulletproof vest and wearing the shades along with his usual pants. Todd makes his way to the ring as Funyon does what Funyon does. “Coming to the ring hailing from “Hollywood Boulevard,” “Urban Legend” TODD CORTEZZZZ!!!!” The fans explode with cheers for the man who has had quite a week in the SWF. Todd enters the ring and raises his arms into the air… “YEAAHHHHHH!!!” Before walking over to a turnbuckle and removing his jewelry and unneeded clothing. “Todd Cortez announced this past week that Martial Law is history…” Pete wants to continue, but is interrupted. “And that’s a shame. Todd Cortez is so selfish. First he steals Landon’s girl, then he breaks up a great tag team in Martial Law, and finally the thug chases Landon around looking to hurt his former friend.” King says painting a bad picture of Cortez. Before Pete can respond it is time for entrance number two… “I’m Born!” “I’m Alive!” “I Breathe!” The familiar words appear over the Smarktron as the lights in the arena dim and “Vitamin” plays. The fans go rapid as Zyon makes his way down to the ring smacking hands on the way. Zyon leaps on to the apron energetically before flipping himself into the ring. Zyon then unbuckles his SWF hardcore title as he performs his usual head bang-arm raise taunt causing the fans to cheer loudly… “Now in the ring coming to us from Elkhart, Indiana. The SWF hardcore champion, ZYYYYON!!!!” The fans cheer as Zyon hands the belt to the timekeeper. “The hardcore champ looking like his energetic self even though lately he has fallen short to the best the SWF has to offer.” Pete says. King has his own opinions, “And even though Cortez is a selfish maniac I wouldn’t mind seeing the spot monkey fall short again, HA!” Ding… Ding… DING!! Dan Harding signaled for the bell and got it. Todd Cortez circles the ring as Zyon hops around energetically. Both men are in a feeling out process, but Zyon simply doesn’t have patience for the process. The Unique Youth rushes toward the Urban Legend and looks for a quick clothesline. Cortez though easily ducks and grabs Zyon in a waistlock. Zyon struggles to get free as he squirms and throws his arms around wildly, but Cortez has a solid grip. Cortez then lifts Zyon up, but before he can do anything Zyon wraps his legs around the body of Cortez and rolls through into a pin attempt… ONE… TWO…kickout. Cortez quickly pushes Zyon off and gets to his feet. Zyon rolls backward and also rises to his feet as he keeps the tempo up by rushing towards the Urban Legend. Cortez though grabs Zyon in mid stride and looks for a hip toss. While in thin air the youth flips and lands on to his feet. Zyon then quickly locks Cortez in a hip toss and tries one of his own, only for Cortez to flip and land on to his feet. The Urban Legend though one ups Zyon by knocking him to the mat with a swinging clothesline. Zyon grabs his throat as he rolls away from Cortez. “So far the two are evenly matched.” Pete says. Zyon rises to his feet and goes to strike Cortez with a forearm, and he succeeds. Cortez though fires right back with a knife edge chop… “WHOOOOO!” Zyon winces in pain as he clutches his chest. Cortez then kicks Zyon in the head with a sidekick. Zyon falls against the ropes that shoot him back to his opponent and allows him to place a shoulder to the gut of Cortez. Cortez doubles over allowing Zyon to leap over him and take him to the mat with a sunset flip pin fall attempt. ONE… TWO…kickout. Cortez once again kicks out and rises to his feet at about the same time as his opponent. Zyon rushes Cortez only to be hit with a kick to his gut. The Urban Legend then locks Zyon in a front face lock and lifts the lightweight into the air. Cortez with Zyon fully vertical drops backwards causing Zyon’s back to smack the mat. “Textbook vertical suplex performed by Todd Cortez.” Pete does his play-by-play thing. Cortez sits up after delivering the suplex and lifts Zyon to his feet as well. From there Cortez scoops Zyon up leading to the Unique Youth to simply slide over on to his feet. Before Cortez can react Zyon jabs the former tag champion in the back and drops him with a reverse DDT. Zyon gets back into the element by exiting the ring and waiting on the apron as Todd Cortez rises to his feet. Cortez is a bit dizzy after having his head slammed into the canvas, but is able to see Zyon who springboards off of the top rope. The youth hooks Cortez around the head and tries spiking him with a DDT. Cortez though shifts his body and throws Zyon into the turnbuckle. “Cortez even after being dropped on the back of his head is able to stop Zyon’s offense.” Pete says. “Yeah just like he stopped Martial Law.” King jabs. The Urban Legend keeps the up-tempo pace going by charging Zyon, who is able to get his feet up. Cortez’s face smashes into the feet of Zyon causing the former member of Martial Law to stagger back in a daze. Zyon with not a moment to spare quickly climbs the top rope, and looks out into the cheering crowd… “YEAHHHH!!” Zyon leaps off of the turnbuckle with his legs out and attempts a hurricarana… SMASH!!! Cortez though uses Zyon’s momentum against him and powerbomb’s the youth in RUTHLESS fashion. “See Pete, Cortez probably just killed Zyon. Tell me this guy isn’t out for blood, in particularly Landon Maddix’s.” King continues the Todd Cortez hate. The back of Zyon’s head bounces off the mat like a rubber ball as the Urban Legend exits the ring and makes his way to the top rope. With Zyon still on the mat Todd Cortez takes to the air and drops a dagger like elbow into the chest of Zyon. “YEAAHHHH!!!” The fans cheer the high risk move as Todd Cortez goes for the cover… ONE… TWO… Kickout. Zyon is able to kick out even though he clutches his chest after such a devastating elbow. Cortez now in control kicks Zyon in the leg and then delivers a kick to his chest… SMACK! Followed by one last strike, which is a kick to the head. BUT WAIT Zyon ducks the kick. Cortez spins around allowing Zyon to put his arm across his opponent’s face, and his leg behind Cortez’s leg. Zyon then drops backward planting the Urban Legend into the mat with a reverse Russian leg sweep. “What a Decline, that could do it right there.” Pete shills a little. Zyon though opts to not go for the cover as he exits to the ring apron. Cortez though surprises everyone as he quickly rises to his feet and staggers toward his opponent. Cortez is too close for Zyon to risk performing a springboard. Zyon with no other options wildly swings for the head of Cortez who ducks the on coming strike. After ducking the strike Cortez buries his shoulder into the gut of a defenseless Zyon. Zyon shoots off the apron… SMACK!!! “OOHHHHH!” The crowd chants as Zyon’s face bounces off of the apron, which obviously doesn’t help his broken nose. “Way to protect your face spot monkey. See Pete it is obvious that Todd Cortez MUST always get the girl so having a good looking face will simply not do if you are around this selfish man.” Suicide King lets loose on the Urban Legend. Pete tries to defend, “Oh c’mon King. Megan was with Cortez all along. There was NO stealing, and you know that damnit.” Zyon leans against the safety barrier as fans in the front row smack him on the back. Todd Cortez exits the ring himself only to be met with a right hand from Zyon. One Two Three Harding has started his count as Zyon goes to fire back with another right hand, but Cortez blocks it. Cortez throws the arm of Zyon to the side and quickly latches on to his head and drives him face first into the safety barrier. Four Five Six “They better be careful, one or both men can be counted out.” Pete states. Cortez swiftly kicks Zyon in the gut and then locks him in a front facelock. Cortez then once again muscles Zyon into the air, but this time drops Zyon on his stomach right across the safety barrier… “OHHHHH!” The fans let out cause lets be honest, that HAD to hurt. Seven Eight Nine… The count is broken up as Cortez rolls back into the ring. The Urban Legend though doesn’t stay in the ring for long as he climbs to the top rope. The fans rise to their feet in unison as referee Dan Harding tries to verbally get Cortez off the ropes. And we know that never ever works. “Oh no, King look! Zyon is still draped over the safety barrier.” Pete says worried. King though, “Don’t you oh no me. You know Zyon is a spot monkey, AND you also know Cortez has quite the background of also being a spot monkey.” “UR~BAN…LEG~END CLAP CLAP CLAP!!!” The fans chant as Cortez like an assassin leaps from the top rope and performs a SUICIDE GUILLOTINE LEG DROP!!! On impact Zyon is shot from the barrier and back on to the ground after flipping through the air. Todd Cortez though does not leave unscathed as he clutches his leg. “Holy Shit!!!” The Denmark crowd has picked up the world renowned wrestling chant. “Oh…my….gawd!!” Pete is able to let loose before having to collect himself. “HA, what did I tell you?” King asks rhetorically. Dan Harding is in shock, but quickly realizes that he has a job to do. One Two Three Four Five Half way through and Cortez looks like he is almost to his feet. Zyon on the other hand…not so much. Six “Let’s go Cortez!!” One side chants… “Let’s go Zyon!!” The other side chants. “This place is rocking with dueling chants.” Pete celebrates. Seven Cortez rises to his feet and grabs Zyon up. Cortez then rolls his opponent into the ring as he follows… “What a moron!” King yells knowing that he would have let the youth get counted out. Cortez doesn’t waste any time though and quickly goes for the cover… ONE… TWO… TH…kickout. Zyon is barely able to kick out. Cortez forces Zyon back to his feet and whips him into the ropes and lowers his head. Zyon though simply leaps over Cortez and bounces off of the opposite ropes. Cortez stunned takes a momentous flying forearm to the back of his head from his opponent. Cortez shoots forward and bounces off the ropes and staggers backward into a schoolboy roll up. ONE… TWO…kickout. “Cortez almost got caught off guard there.” Pete says. “I would say his former tag partner is the one who got caught off guard, Pete.” King shows his unprofessionalism. Zyon is on his feet clutching the back of his neck that was worked on last week by Scott Pretzler, and by the recent suicide guillotine leg drop. Cortez pulls himself to his feet, but is quickly taken down by a Zyon arm drag. Cortez though quickly bounces off the mat and to his feet. The Urban Legend backs into the turnbuckle as Zyon charges and goes for the SNAP dropkick… CRASH & BURN! Cortez dodges the front dropkick causing the youth’s legs to connect with the top ropes, which in turn causes Zyon to bounce off these ropes and land neck first on the canvas. “OHHHHOOO!” The fans cheer as Zyon clutches the back of his neck while Cortez composes himself. The Urban Legend quickly rushes up to Zyon and places a boot to the back of his opponent’s neck. Cortez then lifts the youth up and whips him into the ropes…SURPRISE! The youth springboards off the middle rope and shoots himself backwards with a Half Moon moonsault!!! Cortez though keeps the insanely quick exchange going by shifting his weight and catching Zyon. Cortez then goes to maneuver the energetic hardcore champ on to his shoulder, but Zyon once again slides down the back of his opponent. Zyon then runs off the ropes and at full speed GETS KILLED by a Todd Cortez specialty… “SIT OUT SPINEBUSTER!!!” Pete shills. “Hmmm, Pete that was my ear…god.” King comically says. Todd floats over on to the body of Zyon and hooks the leg… ONE… TWO… THREE…NO!!! Zyon kicks out at the very last possible moment. “YEAAHHHHH!!!” The fans cheer on both men as Cortez rises to his feet a little bit disappointed that the radical youth just wouldn’t stay down. The Urban Legend then grabs Zyon up by the hair and stuns him with spin kick to the gut. Cortez then exits out to the ring apron and quickly springboards high into the air. Zyon though is no longer stunned and takes a step back as Cortez goes to perform his dazzling shooting star clothesline! Zyon though also leaps into the air and hits Cortez with a SHOCKING SNAPPP dropkick to the chest of Cortez!!! The Urban Legend takes the two feet into the chest and then flies backward while in the air into the turnbuckle. Cortez hits the turnbuckle hard causing his neck to snap back as he falls to the ground. And no there were no rope wire tricks used. Just pure momentum and adrenaline. “Oh man, Cortez could be seriously broken.” Pete says setting up… “Well I know of a man who could have quite the broken heart, that man being…” King goes to finish, but is interrupted… “Would you just shut up!!” Longdogger exclaims. “RARRWWWAWWW!!!” The fans are going insane at the amazing feat they just witnessed. Zyon turns Cortez back on to his back and goes for the cover… ONE… TWO… THREE…NO! “Foot on the ropes.” Pete boldly points out. Zyon sees Cortez’s foot motionlessly lying across the bottom rope. The youth rises to his feet clinching the back of his neck as his eyes tell the story of a man in desperate need of a victory. The eyes also show that Zyon knows that Cortez had no right kicking out, but somehow he did. “This is great, Zyon has no clue what to do next.” King laughs. Sweat drips down the face of Zyon as he slowly lifts Todd Cortez to his feet. The youth then grabs the arm of Cortez and jumps up to the top rope. Zyon then walks the ropes showing off his balance before leaping off and driving Cortez to the mat with a flipping neckbreaker. “YEAHHH!!!” The fans cheer Zyon’s flashy offense as he once again goes for the cover. ONE… TWO…kickout. Cortez kicks out at the near fall mark. Zyon clutches his neck as he rises to his feet. Zyon then lifts Cortez up and attempts an Irish whip, but Cortez counters and goes for a short arm clothesline. Zyon though ducks the on coming clothesline and turns into a leaping wheel kick perfectly performed by Cortez! SMACK That would be the sound of Zyon’s face meeting with Cortez’s foot. Zyon finds himself lying on the ground clinching his face as Cortez lifts his opponent back to his feet. The ex Martial Law member then knocks the Unique Youth for a loop after connecting with a STIFF European uppercut. Zyon floats off of his feet as he staggers back against the ropes. The youth looks glossy eyed as the Urban Legend charges, but gets back body dropped over the top rope!! At least that is what one would originally think. “Todd Cortez showing his balance by landing on the ring apron.” Pete says. “And that was even after Zyon caught him off guard with a back body drop.” King actually does some non-hating play-by-play. Zyon though has no clue as he rubs his neck while his back is turned to his opponent. “UR~BAN…LEG~END!!!” The fans chant as Zyon realizes something fishy is going on. Zyon turns around and a look of horror comes over his face as Cortez kicks the youth right above the eye. Zyon stumbles backward clutching his face as Cortez once again takes flight via springboard. Cortez with the smiling faces off everyone in attendance (minus King) comes crashing down on to Zyon with his signature shooting star lariat!! Zyon rolls around on the mat like he was just shot as the Urban Legend goes for the cover!! “This could do it.” Pete thinks. ONE… TWO… TH…No. “Wrong again drain clogger.” King says to spite Pete. Now it is Todd Cortez who is feeling the frustration. Not only does he have to put up with the up and coming cruiserweight, but somewhere in the back of his mind you know he is thinking about his former partner, Landon Maddix. The Urban Legend though tries to focus on the task at hand by lifting Zyon up and placing him in a gut wrench. The former tag champion then lifts Zyon on to his shoulder, with Zyon’s back facing the mat. “Looks like Cortez is setting Zyon up for the Neckwrecker!” Pete exclaims. King can’t pass this up, “Well we know he set Maddix up for the Homewrecker some time ago.” “King you know the story between Megan and Maddix, nothing happened.” Pete says trying to keep the story straight. The fans wait in anticipation as the move would do double damage to Zyon’s already hurt neck. Zyon though doesn’t feel like continuing his losing streak so he tries to squirm free, but Cortez will not allow Zyon to slide down his back again. The Unique Youth though grabs the top rope with his right hand, and with the other hand… Zyon delivers an elbow to the side of Cortez’s head… Again. Again. And…Again. Cortez is definitely seeing stars by now as he is visibly weakening. Zyon then flips backward back on to the mat. The youth sees and opening and attempts to take it as he kicks Cortez in the gut, and transitions him into a standing head scissor. “If Zyon hits the Final Hour you can paint this one over.” Pete announces. Zyon attempts to muscle his opponent up, but the Urban Legend takes a page out of Scott Pretzler’s book and widens his legs. Zyon a week latter STILL has not figured out a way to counter this so he retreats to what he did last week. SMACK!!! Zyon clubs the back of Cortez. But in one fluid adrenaline rush Cortez sweeps Zyon out from under his legs. Cortez then grabs both of his opponent’s legs and slingshots Zyon into the turnbuckle. The amazing youth though gathers himself and lands on the second rope. Zyon then climbs up one more level so that he is on the top rope, back facing his opponent. “Fly spot monkey fly!” King screams, as he is definitely interested in the match even though he dislikes both competitors. Zyon does a taunting hand motion and leaps off on to Cortez with a No Regard corkscrew body attack!!! “YEAAAHHHH!!!” The fans cheer as Zyon’s back is lying on Cortez for the cover… ONE… TWO… Bridge Up? Cortez shows off his wrestling skill by wrapping his arms around Zyon and bridging up. Both men spin so that Cortez has the higher ground as Zyon has the lower…and finds himself in a standing head scissors. “Oh shit…” Pete mumbles. King is amused, “I wonder if they beeped that, but I must agree if Cortez hits the Riot Act Plus it is over.” Zyon though learned how to control his weight thanks to his match against Pretzler. Zyon spreads his legs out as if he was doing the splits. Cortez can’t force Zyon over with the lack of momentum he has because of the splits. The Urban Legend finds himself in a bad situation and looks to club Zyon in the back of his neck, and does. Zyon grunts after the strike letting everyone know that his neck is definitely a soft spot right now. The youth though has bought himself time and explodes upward back dropping Cortez to the mat before doubling over and clutching his neck. “A simple yet effective counter to the Riot Act Plus.” Pete explains. Cortez rises to his feet angered that he didn’t get the job done right then and there. Zyon forces himself up as well. The youth tries to kick Cortez in the gut, but he catches the on coming foot. Zyon though has more than one trick up his sleeve as he pulls his other foot over and tries to complete an enziguri. The Urban Legend though ducks that TOO, which leads to Zyon being pulled into a waistlock. The Urban Legend then places Zyon in a full nelson and drives him to the mat with a dragon suplex with bridge…amazing! “DRAGON SUPLEX!!!” Pete shills… King explains, “Folks Pete has been dropped on his head many times, and he just flat out marks for the dragon suplex.” The fans also mark for the move as they count along with referee Dan Harding… ONE… TWO…. THREE-YESnohekickedout. Zyon is able to kick out right before the three count. Todd Cortez shakes his head in frustration knowing that the dragon suplex not only worked on his opponent’s neck, but also was a perfectly acceptable pin attempt. Cortez lifts Zyon up and out of frustration goes to toss the youth over the top rope, but Zyon stops Cortez’s momentum with a back elbow. Zyon then grabs Cortez who is clutching his face and throws him over the top rope and to the floor. “Well we all know what Zyon and most other cruiserweights do in this position.” King sighs. Cortez slowly gets to his feet as the grueling match has taken its toll on him. Little does he know that the hardcore champ is running off the ropes and coming to jump out on to him with a somersault plancha!!! “ZY~ON!!!” The fans cheer as the youth slides off of his opponent and makes up for his earlier snap dropkick by nipping up. The youth though grabs the back of his neck as referee Dan Harding’s count has already started. Four… Zyon doesn’t let it go any further though as he returns the favor and rolls Todd Cortez into the ring. Zyon leaps on to the apron and makes a gun with his fingers and points it at his own head in a taunting fashion. Zyon then leaps on to the turnbuckle… FINAL FLA… CRASH!!! Zyon goes for his finishing maneuver, but Todd Cortez rolls out of the way leaving Zyon to smack his back on the unforgivable ring. Cortez wastes no time crawling over to the fallen hardcore champ and hooking the leg for the cover… ONE… TWO…. Kickout. “Todd Cortez tried taking advantage of Zyon’s mistake.” Pete explains. Zyon even though he kicked out is still gasping for breath. Cortez though gives the Unique Youth no time by scooping him up and slamming him to the mat with a body slam. The Urban Legend tired and beaten looks to finish the match by making his way to the top rope. Cortez though climbs the ropes a tad too slow allowing Zyon to get to his feet. Zyon then walks up to Cortez and jabs him in the face before launching the Urban Legend into the air and down to the mat with an arm drag. “See if Cortez wouldn’t have went spot monkey retarded he could have probably won the match.” King scolfs. Zyon rests against the ropes as Cortez gets to his feet clutching his back after being driven to the mat with an arm drag. Zyon after rubbing his neck for a second rushes Cortez and tries dropping him with a clothesline, but the Urban Legend ducks. Zyon quickly recovers and turns around into Cortez who lifts the hardcore champ up and hits him with the CROTCH DROPPAHHH!!!! “Crotch Droppah…he got him from out of NOWHERE!!!” Pete shills. “I love it, I could listen to you say that for years.” King says sarcastically. Zyon grabs his nether regions before falling back into ropes, which is the only thing holding him up. “YEAHHHH!!!” The fans cheer as Todd Cortez is kneeling down trying to catch some oxygen while Zyon tries to make a move, but can’t. The momentum has definitely turned for the moment as Zyon staggers toward his opponent. The Urban Legend wincing in pain as he rises to his feet makes the first move grabbing the defenseless cruiserweight by the throat. GOOZLE! Zyon tries to fight out, but Cortez’s grip is serial killer tight. The fans are on their feet knowing that the Urban Assault is a quality match ender. Zyon while in this position finds himself helpless as both men have gave it their all so far, and in Todd Cortez’s case has one more gift to give to the audience. “Here we go, one spot monkey putting another one to rest right in our very eyes drain clogger.” King says excitedly. Cortez with one last gasp muscles Zyon up into the air, and finds himself SHOCKED when Zyon wraps his legs around his head and takes him over with a hurricarana!! Zyon lands on top of Cortez. He reaches back and grabs a leg, and pulls forward!! ONE… TWO… THREE!!!! “Oh My…the cyclone out of nowhere just won it!!” Pete exclaims. Ding Ding DING!! “Here is your winner, ZYYYYON!!!” Funyon announces as Zyon rolls out of the ring clutching the back of his neck, as Todd Cortez is stunned. Fans in the front row pat his back and cheer as “Vitamin” plays. Zyon grabs his hardcore title and makes his exit. The fans though keep applauding as a tired Todd Cortez makes his exit. “Well all it took was one amazing counter, but both men deserve the applause they got, that was just incredible.” Pete says. Fade To Black

FADE IN Announcer: “SWF Smarkdown presents, “A Moment in Time,” brought to you by Rolex: the Tom Flesher of watches!” Flashback to: October 22, 2002 - SJL Metal As Tim, Wildchild and Ben start to exit stage right, they come face to face with Ejiro Fasaki, his body still drenched with sweat, having just finished his match. Ejiro's eyes narrow as his face screws into a scowl directed towards Wildchild. "You know, if anybody should be facing Dillon for that belt tonight, it ought to be me. I still don't understand why you're getting a shot at the European Title tonight. A shot that you didn't earn. "I mean, look at you: you've got a losing record since coming to the SJL." Ejiro walks right up to Wildchild and turns his face up slightly, so that they are nose to nose. "You're a loser. And, all the while, you continue to sell your self-respect to these fans, dressing up like a clown and bouncing around like a doped-up lunatic.When are you going to stand up for yourself, kid? When are you going to realize that the fans are only cheering for you because you're killing yourself for their amusement? Do you really think that any of these fans will care about you when you're sent back to the Bahamas in a pine box after you break your neck for a cheap pop?" Ejiro's eyes narrow even further, as if angered by the very thought. "Do you really think they give a damn about you? They're only cheering for you until the newest flavor of the month comes along, and then nobody will care about you unless you're in some kind of hardcore match, or ladder match. Putting your very life at risk to get them to cheer for the two or three seconds that they're actually paying attention. "Come to your senses, kid. You're young, you still have time to see the light. Don't let those people influence you. Don't let them pressure you into doing something that'll put you in a wheelchair before you're 22. Take some friendly advice..." Before Ejiro could get any further, however, Wildchild interrupted him by bringing his hand up between his face and Ejiro's. "Monsieur Fasaki, I'm t'inkin' you been wrapped a little too tight lately. I'm t'inkin' you need to loosen up. Why don' you come on down to de pub wit' us, eh? Mebbe we fin' you a good woman, she take goo' care o' you, relax you up real good, oui?" Ejiro glares at Wildchild, his eyes throwing daggers, as Tim Dillon struggles to contain a laugh in the background. Ejiro continues to glare at Wildchild, too angry to speak. Wildchild, thinking their dialogue was over, shrugs his shoulders, and turns around to walk away with Tim and Ben. He glances back at Ejiro, saying "somet'in' you mebbe t'ink about, oui? The camera focuses in tight on Ejiro's face as Dillon, Hardy and Wildchild walk off-screen. Ejiro, still burning holes into the back of Wildchild's skull, mutters to himself, "yeah, I'll give you something to think about." LATER THAT NIGHT: Wildchild picks Dillon up and goes behind him to secure a waist-lock, looking to drop him back to the floor with a neck drop suplex. But Tim flips over the top of Wildchild, spins him around, and stuns him with the Irish Fury! Dillon repeatedly snaps Wildchild's head back with swift, hard jabs to the face. As Wildchild staggers back and forth dazed, Tim breaks into an Irish Jig! As the jig comes to an end, however, Wildchild drops to the floor in a split position, and drives a fist upwards into Dillon's groin! Tim bends over immediately, clutching his family jewels for dear life, as Wildchild stands back up with a snarl. He takes advantage of Dillon being bent over to set him up for the Wild Ride! He spins around and stands upright, leaving Dillon's legs draped over his shoulders and, with a deranged shriek, falls backwards, driving Dillon's head into the unyeilding concrete floor. WHAM!! Wildchild stands up and surveys the damage, the red haze of fury slowly starting to clear from his eyes. As he realizes what has just done, he bends down to tend to Tim, when suddenly the crowd parts to give way to Ejiro Fasaki, who grabs a glass pitcher from the bar and smashes the blunt end over the top of Wildchild's skull... BAM! Wildchild falls to the floor in a heap as the pitcher breaks into a million pieces over the top of his head. Ejiro stands over the top of Wildchild, looking down on him with a pitiless expression. He pulls Wildchild's limp body up by the hair, and calmly says to him, "trust me, kid; this is for your own good... " With that, Ejiro hooks Wildchild with a 3/4 front face-lock, and runs towards the pool table and off the side, flipping over the top of Wildchild, and landing behind him, nailing him with the Ejirocution! Ejiro drags Dillon's limp body on top of Wildchild, and gestures to the ref to count the pinfall. The referee, powerless to disqualify Ejiro, reluctantly makes his count... ONE! TWO! THREE! Ejiro's face breaks into a small smile. Looking down at Wildchild, he says calmly, "remember, kid; you'll thank me later..." With that, he grabs a nearby beer off the bar, drains the glass, and walks out of the pub. End Flashback: Announcer: “Rolex: We bring the workrate!” FADE OUT

Smarkdown continues with more exciting action, but Longdogger Pete and Suicide King seem distracted. “Check out that one!” exclaims Pete. “Wow!” King agrees. “She looks like she’s carrying two midgets on her chest!” Suddenly Pete looks up and sees the red light on the camera. Panicking, he goes, “Um…King…” King, however, is still focused on the woman with the midgets for breasts. “And the beautiful thing is she won’t understand a word I’m saying.” “KING! We’re on.” King looks up and also notices the red light on the camera, managing only a Peter Griffin-esque “Aw crap” in response. Pete: “And we’re just about ready for exciting tag team action, and Arch Griffon and Manson take on JJ Johnson and International Champion Jay Hawke.” King: “The promoters must really like seeing Hawke vs. Griffon. The feud ended a month ago and these two men are still facing each other.” Shaking his head, Pete continues. “For Manson and Griffon, this match is a chance for them to move back into the title picture. And for the team of Hawke and Johnson … well…” You can hear crickets chirp at the pause. “They just happened to need opponents tonight, so we get this match.” “Works for me,” King says with a shrug. “Can we just go up to Funyon and get this one over with?” Funyon: “Ladies and gentlemen, the following tag team contest is scheduled for one fall with a 20-minute time limit.” “End of Everything” by Stereomud plays as the lights flash, alternating between white and red. Red and white sparks begin to come from the ceiling and the floor. Funyon: “Introducing first … hailing from Windsor, Ontario, Canada … weighing in at 219 pounds … JJ JOHNSON!” JJ Johnson emerges from the sparks, the hood to his red and white maple leaf jacket up, holding his arms straight out as he walks to the ring. As he steps onto the ring steps, he throws his hood back, walking up the steps as white sparks begin to shoot from the ringposts. He then gets to the corner on the near left camera side and hops onto the middle turnbuckle, extending his arms out to his side again as the crowd showers him with boos. Then the lights dim, and the music fades into Pink Floyd’s “Learning to Fly”. Funyon: “His opponent … from the Hall of Fame City of Cleveland, Ohio … weighing in at 215 pounds … he is the reigning SWF International Champion … ‘the Dean of Professional Wrestling’ … JAYYYYYY HAWWWWWKE!” A lone spotlight shines down on the two-time International Champion as he makes his way to the ring, the light illuminating his purple and black sequined robe. He enters the ring, casually removing the robe to show the International Championship belt shining in the spotlight. He then hops onto the middle turnbuckle and raises both arms in the air, the crowd beginning its familiar chant: “JAY HAWKE SUCKS! JAY HAWKE SUCKS! JAY HAWKE SUCKS!” As Hawke hops down from the ring apron, Arch Enemy’s “We Will Rise” hits the loudspeakers, strobe lights flashing and pulsing in time with the music. Just when the lyrics hit: *BOOM* A burst of pyro explodes from the stage as Manson emerges, throwing up the horns as the crowd voices its approval. Arch Griffon silently follows behind him as both men stare at the ring, focused on their upcoming match. Funyon: “And their opponents … at a total combined weight of 542 pounds … the team of MANNNNNNSONNNNNNNN and ARRRRRRRRRRCH GRIFFFFFFFFFFFFONNNNNN!” Manson rolls underneath the bottom rope and Griffon sliding in after him, and both men get to their corner to prepare for the start of the match. “There’s one thing I can say about this match without hesitation,” says King.” “And what might that be?” asks Pete. “I’m glad I don’t have to be the referee for this contest,” King replies. And the world thanks God for that as well. *DING DING DING!* At the sound of the bell, both teams discuss who will begin the match for their respective sides. The heels decide quickly that Jay Hawke will start for their side, and seeing this, Arch Griffon practically begs Manson to let him start. Manson obliges and steps onto the ring apron, and Pete tells the fans watching on television, “With the wars these two men had over the International Championship, this could be a very interesting contest tonight.” Both men love in to lock up, but knowing Griffon’s got a superior edge in strength, Jay Hawke immediately slips behind Archie and locks him in a waistlock. Before Griffon gets a chance to break himself out of the hold, Jay Hawke releases it himself, getting a light slap to the back of Griffon’s head in to slow him down. “OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Arch Griffon turns around and sees Jay Hawke smiling, then nods as if to say “Good job, you got me.” Then the look on Griffon’s face changes to one of anger, and he levels with a European uppercut that sends the International Champion sprawling backwards into his own corner. Jay Hawke reaches back to tag in JJ Johnson, who looks down and shouts “Are you out of your mind?” Pete: “And with just one shot, Jay Hawke is down in a heap, and JJ Johnson is refusing to tag himself in.” King: “Do you blame him? I wouldn’t want to get in there after seeing my partner take a shot like that either!” JJ Johnson reluctantly tags himself in, and he points over at Manson. Griffon goes over and makes the tag to his partner, who comes in ready to do some damage. They lock up, and Manson, with slightly more power than his opponent, pushes him back into the corner. Manson tries to break cleanly, but Johnson catches Manson with a slap to the face. An enraged Manson begins to fire back with forearm strikes of his own until JJ slumps down in the corner, and Suicide King is there to remark, “He beat him like an enraged father beats his baby!” As Pete begins to chastise King for yet another inappropriate comment, Manson Irish whips Johnson hard into the corner, quickly following him in with a thunderous lariat. Manson drags Johnson over to the corner and reaches for a tag, but Johnson breaks free from Manson’s grip and grabs his chin, puts the back of Manson’s neck onto JJ’s shoulder, and drops straight down. “Reverse neck breaker,” says Pete, and the tide of the match might be turning right there!” JJ Johnson makes the tag to Jay Hawke, who quickly enters the ring and drops the knee into the left shoulder. Again. And again. “And right to the shoulder to set the Wing Span up,” says King. “Excellent strategy. Wear down a body part and take control.” Jay Hawke extends Manson’s arm across the mat and leaps, dropping a leg into upper bicep. Smiling, he pulls Manson to his feet, hammer locking the arm to trap it behind his back. He turns Manson toward JJ’s corner and shoves him from behind, sending the shoulder crashing into the top turnbuckle. “And now they’re trying to cut the ring off in half,” says Pete, “and you have to admire the tag team strategy of this unit.” JJ Johnson levels Manson with a couple of hard forearms in the corner, then moves Manson to the central area of the ropes. JJ whips Manson into the ropes and sets up for a clothesline. Manson ducks underneath, stops, turns, and spins, catching Johnson with a rolling elbow that knocks him back into Arch Griffon’s corner. King: “One of these days we need to figure out a way to ban the elbow.” Manson tags in Arch Griffon. Griffon enters, and Manson takes advantage of the referee’s five count to hold Johnson up, only for Griffon to super kick him right back down. Pete: “What a shot there by Arch Griffon, and he nearly laid Johnson out for the rest of the evening with that super kick! King: “At least JJ has enough ring sense to try to roll away from this guy. That’s more than I can say for a lot of wrestlers in his position, I guarantee that.” Johnson slowly makes his way to the corner and reaches up for the tag, but Jay Hawke refuses to extend his hand. “Jesus,” says King, “it’s Arch Griffon, not Jesus or Buddha. Tag, dammit!” Jay Hawke didn’t hear King, but he still picks that exact moment to tag himself in. He asks the referee to back Griffon up toward his corner, and the referee obliges, but as soon as Jay Hawke steps through the ropes, Griffon charges and takes the Dean of Wrestling down with a shoulder tackle. King: “Ouch. That one hurt me, and I’m sitting ten feet away from the ring.” With Jay Hawke a crumpled mass of flesh and bone, Arch Griffon continues his power attack. He pulls Jay Hawke up to his feet and locks him in a vicelike bear hug. Then, as the breath is being sapped away from Jay Hawke’s lungs, Griffon pops his hips and takes the International Champion over his head and down hard to the canvas. Pete: “What a tremendous belly-to-belly suplex, and Jay Hawke is down!” Arch Griffon runs into the ropes and drops a leg across his fallen adversary’s chest as King tells Pete, “These fans aren’t blind, you don’t need to call this thing move for move.” Before Pete can remind King what their job is, Griffon goes down for the cove: ONE! TWO! Kickout. Jay Hawke tries to crawl over to his corner, but Arch Griffon pulls him back to the opposite corner and makes the tag. Manson makes his way back into the ring, grabbing his fallen opponent. He picks him up as if to body slam him, but instead drops his back across the knee. “One backbreaker!” And again. “A second backbreaker!” And yet again. “A third backbreaker!” Do you see a pattern forming here? “A fourth backbreaker,” shouts Pete… THUMP! “YEAAAAAAAAAAH!” “…and a power slam that jars the arena! Manson goes for the cover!” ONE! TWO! JJ Johnson stomps Manson to make the save. Johnson runs over to the opposing team’s corner and takes Arch Griffon off the apron with a high knee lift, then quickly makes his way back over to the apron at his assigned turnbuckle. Pete: “JJ Johnson is back in the corner awaiting the tag, but Manson has Jay Hawke down on the canvas!” A frustrated Arch Griffon makes his way into the ring, but the referee immediately stops him from running toward his opposing team’s corner. Meanwhile, Manson levels Jay Hawke with a couple of hard forearm smashes, then goes for an Irish whip. Hawke is able to reverse the whip. As Manson hit’s the ropes, JJ Johnson lifts a knee into the back of his opponent. The blow drops Manson to his knees, and Hawke recovers enough to take Manson down with a swinging neck breaker as Manson tries to regain his feet. “What a cheap shot by JJ Johnson,” shouts an angry Longdogger Pete as Jay Hawke crawls over and makes the tag. “The match was completely in favor of the Griffon-Manson team there!” “But the referee was busy keeping Arch Griffon from illegally interfering, Pete!” reminds King. “And now the Hawke-Johnson team is going to be able to do what they please with their opponents, and I, for one, love it!” Manson’s back is battered further as Johnson hoists himself over the top rope and drops a knee, bone clashing with bone as the weight comes down on the Denver native’s spine. A submission would be futile here, Manson being much too close to the ropes to allow for a victory by tap-out. This doesn’t stop Johnson from grabbing his leg and dragging the Raging Bull to the middle of the ring before applying a standing deathlock on the notoriously bad right knee of Manson. “If I know what Johnson is looking for, Manson’s leg is in trouble.” says King as Johnson throws himself down on his back, his momentum torquing the Coloradan’s knee. “Unique move, definitely works the knee. Let’s see how he follows up.” Pete comments. Johnson’s follow-up is to stand once more, Manson’s leg still hooked, and fall back again, the man formerly known as Mafia gritting his teeth as Johnson bridges up, holding the leg in its current and quite painful position. Arch makes an attempt to break up either the hold, Johnson’s neck, or both by coming in and attempting a leg drop. He only achieves one of those, as Johnson realizes it’s raining hosses and is quick to roll out from under the Iowan’s path, thus breaking the hold. Unfortunately, Arch did catch something on the way down. “Ha! I love it!” shouts King, which you know can’t be good. And indeed it isn’t, as Johnson’s hold managed to allow him to push Manson’s leg into Arch’s landing area before rolling out, and 302 pounds of former computer programmer just came down on the Raging Bull’s bad knee. Griffon looks down in surprise, almost paralyzed by confusion... “GET THE FUCK OFF ME!” Before the pissed-off scream of his tag team partner brings him back into reality. Archie looks back at where Johnson is laying... ...is standing... ...is running... ...is kicking... WHAM! “HET IS GOED!” shouts some smartass in the crowd, and it did indeed look like Johnson would have made a field goal with Arch’s head had it not been firmly attached to the hoss’s neck. As painful as it might seem, all three had wishes at that moment. Johnson’s: Kick this guy in the face really hard. Manson’s: Get this guy off me. Arch’s: Not get kicked in the face really hard. Two out of three ain’t bad as Arch clutches at his face, blood starting to trickle out of his nose as he rolls out of the ring to recuperate. Meanwhile, Manson has struggled to his feet, and over to his corner where he looks to make a tag... ...but Griffon is out on the floor, holding his nose and checking the liquid that is slowly oozing into his hand, occasionally ruining the pristine white of his tights with red streaks. After all, having your own blood on your hands is not a pleasant experience. “Ha! That’s the first rule of tag wrestling: bleed in YOUR OWN CORNER, so that if your partner needs to make the tag, you can get your hemorrhaging ass in there and bleed all over the OPPONENT.” says King, his rule rather wise given the situation as Manson turns around, ducks a kick from Johnson, and throws a clothesline that is also ducked. However, Johnson rises up quickly enough to catch the Raging Bull in as good a position as any to hit a T-Bone suplex. “Hey Pete, I’ve got this awesome original nickname for JJ.” notes King. “What’s that?” inquires the Longdogger. “The Human Suplex Machine. Original, huh?” King says with a smug look on his face. LDP has no comment as Johnson lifts Manson to perform the aforementioned T-Bone... ...But drops down as soon as Manson is perpendicular to his head, the Raging Bull crashing facefirst into the mat! “WHAT A MOVE! Good God, that’ll cause some head trauma.” Pete says as Johnson hooks the leg closest to the ropes. ONE!????????TWO! THRRRR-NOO! With a move that seems unusual for a man his size, Arch notices his partner in peril and dives between the bottom and second ropes, breaking up the pin. As soon as that happens, Johnson is up, throwing forearms in an attempt to send the massive Griffon back to the arena floor. Arch merely throws a clothesline, taking the Canadian off of his feet and onto the mat. Hard. Griffon then reaches down, grabs Johnson’s arm, and pulls him back up for another clothesline! And another pull! And another clothesline! PULL! THWOCK! PULL! THWOCK! Fortunately for the battered Canadian, the ref realizes that Arch is not the legal man, and thus forces him back into his corner. Manson is up to his feet once more, and he limps over to his corner as Johnson shakes the cobwebs out of his head. Manson gets even closer as Johnson realizes he needs to act, and fast. Manson reaches out, bringing his arm up before hurling it down for... THOCK! AWWWWWWWWWW! In an amazing move, Johnson had ran, leaped to the top rope of Griffon and Manson’s corner, and sprung off to drive a dropkick into the massive Iowan’s face! “Very nice move by Johnson to break up the tag! Ya gotta love it, Pete!” King gloats, knowing that Manson is just that much more in trouble. “It was athletic, and legal...” admits Pete, albeit begrudgingly. Johnson slides to his feet and whips Manson into the corner the Dean of Professional Wrestling has taken up residence in. Hawke wastes no time in grabbing Manson by the head and falling off the apron, hotshotting the Raging Bull’s neck off the top rope. Manson drops to his knees, taking a moment to clutch his neck before hoisting himself back to a standing position. Johnson dashes in the direction of the Denver native, taking long strides in order to gain momentum for a JUMPING HURRICANRANA!! NO! Manson ducks, theoretically landing Johnson in a most uncomfortable seated position atop the turnbuckle. Instead, the agile Canadian lands on his feet on the top rope. The Coloradan turns to come face-to-ass with the Ontarian, but not for long, as Johnson leaps, tucking his knees into his chest to make his rotation that much easier as he moonsaults into a seated position atop Manson’s shoulders, and from there, continues his rotation and spikes the former Tommy Gunn on his head with a reverse hurricanrana! “EXCEDRIN HEADACHE NUMBER 7!!” shouts King, perhaps a bit too exuberantly. “What the hell are you shouting about?” is a certain confused Miami native’s reply. “HOULIE MEST! HOULIE MEST! HOULIE MEST! HOULIE MEST!” Holy shit indeed, Johnson abandoning the pin and instead tagging in Hawke. The Dean begins his assault on the arm once more, latching on an armbar that serves a double purpose of immobilizing the larger Manson, thus rendering him unable to make a tag to the most powerful man in the match, and making him that much more vulnerable to the Wing Span. Manson attempts to stand and power out of the hold, but that attempt fails when, as the referee attempts to stop Arch from entering the ring to prevent just this sort of thing, Johnson climbs into the ring and throws a hard snapping kick to the right hamstring of the Raging Bull. Bad knee + mixed martial artist kicking you in said knee tends to equal a collapse, and this time is no different, the advantage once more with the two wrestlers the Copenhagen (Well, and every other) crowd has deemed “the bad guys”. “MAN-SON! MAN-SON! MAN-SON! MAN-SON!” The chant from the crowd seems to will Manson on, and instead of standing, which would just set himself up for another kick, he rolls forward, his momentum both weakening Hawke’s grip and bringing the Dean to the mat. Hawke is stunned by this sudden reversal of fortunes. Manson, meanwhile, is limping towards his corner once more. Johnson, formerly verbally destroying a particularly loudmouthed Dane, looks back at the ring and sees his predicament. He and Jay’s sacrificial lamb, the one they’ve worked on all match, the weakest of the herd so to speak, is about to make a tag to the alpha male. And he can’t let that happen. Manson is close. Very close. Johnson ignores going through the ropes into the ring. Over is faster. And time is of the essence. Hawke is slowly regaining his bearings, and also notices that his team, in terms of location, is very close to “deep shit.” The ref moves to block any illegal interference from the agile Canadian. Manson is VERY close now. Johnson has to get past the ref. And just like earlier, over is faster. Hawke grabs Manson’s pants leg in an attempt to slow him down while Jay makes his way to his feet. Johnson steps back into his corner. “If Manson makes the hot tag to a fresh Arch Griffon, he may be too much for Johnson and Hawke to handle. You saw how Arch completely squashed Jay earlier.” Pete points out. Johnson begins his second momentum-gaining stride of the night, the ref’s eyes darting back and forth, not quite sure what to do. “Charging Ultimate Fighter” was not one of the things he was trained to deal with. Manson reaches out, Jay now having a firm bearhug on his leg. Just a few more inches. Fortunately, the ref doesn’t have to deal with the untrained-for situation much longer, as Johnson is airborne, sailing over the ref in a last ditch shot to stop the tag. Johnson clears the ref with plenty of room to spare, and slams into Manson. SLAP! RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!! Which drives him the extra couple of inches he needed to make the tag! Arch comes into the ring and hits a clothesline that sends Johnson crashing to the mat once more. Jay is quick to release the Raging Bull and scramble to his corner, apparently waiting for Johnson to follow suit, vault the top rope, and make the tag. Johnson is up quickly, but he’s pretty much sick of all this diving, and a 6’4 wrestler would be a wee bit harder than a 5’10 ref. 1672. Good thing he doesn’t have to. “HEY! WHAT’RE YOU DOING? GET OUT OF THE RING!” The ref’s angered yell is picked up on the cameras, and surprisingly, the demand is not aimed at Johnson. Griffon looks at the ref incredulously, slapping his hands together in the universal “I made the tag” symbol. The ref responds with the equally universal “I didn’t see it, now get in the damn corner” sign. As this is going on, Johnson walks to his corner, careful to go around Griffon, and steps through the ropes. Hawke stands up, and shouts at the ref. The ref looks to see Hawke make a very slow and deliberate tag that makes Johnson the legal man. “That’s how you wrestle a tag match! Don’t waste energy making a tag the ref isn’t going to see!” King is obviously very happy at JJ and Jay’s “ingenious” tag team tactics. Johnson climbs through the ropes this time, and steps to the middle of the ring. Manson enters, technically the legal man, as Arch makes his way back to the corner. Manson throws a punch that catches Johnson just above the eye. Johnson fires back with a punch of his own. Jay abandons his corner and makes his way over to Griffon and Manson’s corner, being careful to stay out of the sight of the referee. Manson rocks Johnson with another thunderous shot, but the Ultimate Fighter he’s facing won’t give up, and the smaller man lays into another blow. Arch’s eyes are set on the match. He doesn’t see Hawke as he sneaks around, drawing closer and closer to the Iowan’s position. Manson slams another fist into the Canadian’s face. Johnson once more returns the favor, both men’s face starting to bruise from the recent blunt trauma. Hawke is now to the steps behind Griffon, and tries to silently make his way up. A small cut has opened over Johnson’s eye, and Manson focuses his efforts on that area. Johnson’s bled too many times to be deterred, however, and he blasts a stiff left handed shot into the Raging Bull’s nose. Hawke has made his way behind Griffon, and tucks his head under the arm and sends both himself and his opponent off the apron with a back suplex! Manson avoids another punch, opting instead for a School Boy. Johnson, however, figure fours the arm and wriggles out of the predicament. Just because Johnson is out of a predicament now doesn’t mean Manson isn’t in a new one as JJ swings his leg over to torque the Raging Bull’s head back! “Frostbite! This one is over, Pete!” predicts King. And he’s right. With no one to break up the hold, and his neck, back and arm all weakened from earlier, it all becomes too much for his system to take. TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP!! DING DING DING! “End of Everything” hits, and the ref raises Johnson’s hand in victory before going and retrieving the International belt to deliver to his partner. “It was a valiant effort by Manson and Griffon, but Johnson and Hawke were focused! They knew what they wanted, they set it up, and it was too much for their opponent’s to take!” Pete calls as Johnson makes his way back up the ramp. Hawke gets to his feet outside the ring. Two men, completely different in every way, united by one common bond. Victory. *FADE OUT*

The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation presents... SWF SMARKDOWN, JULY 11TH, 2005, LIVE FROM THE PARKEN STADIUM IN COPENHAGEN, DENMARK! The SWF continues rumbling through Europe as it stops in the capital of Denmark, Copenhagen! Manson will surely want to stock up on the city's namesake as we see the Three-Time World Champion Classic come to an end, along with two World Championship defenses! MAIN EVENT - Three-Time World Champion Classic, Vol 3.0 El Luchador Magnifico vs. Danny Williams ~ The three men who have held the World Heavyweight Championship three times have had a bit of a round-robin going on. Tonight, Danny Williams and El Luchador Magnifico meet up to finish off the pairings. Williams comes in with a win, and ELM with a loss. If Williams wins, he's the dominant alpha male of the division, but ELM has the chance to even up the series at 1-1, 1-1, 1-1. PURE RULES - SWF World Heavyweight Championship Ejiro Fasaki © vs. Wildchild ~ Wildchild is used to working under the significantly less-restrictive cruiserweight rules. Will that make a difference as the #1 Contender cashes in his shot at Ejiro Fasaki? Just as important, how will Wildchild's tag team partner, and Ground Zero challenger for the World Heavyweight Championship, react? SUBMISSION MATCH - SWF World Cruiserweight Championship Toxxic vs. Scott Pretzler © ~ It's Tom Flesher's show. That means that the cruiserweights shine, and so do the submission wrestlers. Pretzler is both, and frankly, Flesher doesn't care much for Toxxic. SINGLES MATCH Johnny Dangerous vs. "The Franchise" Mak Francis ~ You know what I love about Mak? He's the sort of guy who we could job every night for six months, and he'd still seem credible. He's that damn good. Dangerous needs to stay sharp for the main event of Ground Zero; Francis is one of the SWF's stars, and a legitimate hooker to boot. If Ejiro Fasaki retains, this experience with Francis will surely prepare Dangerous to face the mat-wrestling Cobra. SINGLES MATCH Zyon vs. Todd Cortez ~ Cortez and Zyon. Zyon and Cortez. Hell, guys, I just want to see this one. Incidentally, Zyon has an opportunity here to bounce back from two difficult losses. TAG TEAM MATCH Arch Griffon and Manson vs. "The Dean of Professional Wrestling" Jay Hawke and JJ Johnson ~ It's relatively bonzo gonzo.

For my money, the Judge/Gun incident is #1, and Thoth/Blazenwing a solid #2. Still, good list. I hadn't read a lot of those before - whoever kept the logs, bravo.