chirs3

No, Tom, I've been thinking about this. Definitely should be higher. I'm thinking... 10k?

No one's claimed it yet, so it's yours.

Yep, King and LDP are the commentators for every show.

*books JJ in a Cayenne Pepper on a Pole match*

Paprica, actually. And a little cayenne pepper.

Okeedokee, card's up.

“What is Scott Pretzler doing out here?” Pete exclaims, his voice hoarse after calling the main event. Indeed, the man now standing in the ring is none other than the Cruiserweight Champion. “I can tell you one thing, Pete,” says King. “He’s not here to bake cookies!” BOOOOO! Pretzler walks over to Toxxic and pats him on the back. Toxxic is exhausted, having just wrestled an incredibly grueling match, and he embraces his comrade and leans on him for support. “How touching.” Pete’s voice is thick with sarcasm. “You’re the most negative person I have ever met. A show of respect and friendship between these two teammates… and you still find something over which to cry foul.” And at first, it does seem as though Pretzler has come only to show support for the Straight-Edge Sensation. He assists the champion in fastening the belt around his waist, then raises his arm and points at him. The crowd continues to boo mercilessly. Wildchild lies on the mat, his energy spent. Pretzler calls for a microphone, and is handed one by Funyon. “Give it up, ladies and gentleman, for the SWF Champion, Toxxic! The greatest titleholder this sport has ever seen.” Pretzler returns the microphone. Toxxic removes the brass knuckles and is about to throw them away when Pretzler reaches out and stops him. A look of understanding passes between them. Wildchild slowly stands; he is groggy and shamed in defeat, but seeing Pretzler suddenly awakens a look of murder in his eyes. Before he can make a move, Pretzler takes the brass knuckles from Toxxic and puts them on. WHAM! The Bahama Bomber’s head snaps back as it is met with the full force of Pretzler’s brass-alloyed fist. He falls to the mat. In a second, Pretzler is on him, pounding away with reckless abandon. Wildchild thrashes from side to side hoping to escape the blows, but Pretzler straddles him and grabs him by the throat to keep his head secure. “For a man who espouses the virtues of pure wrestling, Scott Pretzler sure enjoys bludgeoning people with foreign objects!” shouts an indignant Longdogger Pete. The savage blows continue to rain down on Wildchild’s forehead. He cries out, but no one is here to help him. Toxxic relaxes in the corner, a peaceful smile on his face. Pretzler, having tired of punching his adversary, stands up and pushes him toward the edge of the ring. He grabs the top rope and stomps on Wildchild’s body until he falls out and lands with a thud on the arena floor. Pretzler follows him out. “Where the hell is security?” Wildchild is crawling up the ramp, desperate to remove himself from the unbalanced equation. But Pretzler is relentless. Pretzler is mad. The Bahaman turns over onto his back and aims a flailing kick at the Critic’s shin. It connects, and Pretzler drops to one knee – but it’s not enough. Undaunted, the champion lunges forward and aims a hard right at the Bahaman’s jaw. The sound is horrific. DUB-CEE! DUB-CEE! Sadly, the audience’s support is all but useless. Wildchild is now lying prone on his back, spittle flying into the air as he coughs and gasps for breath. “It’s all about revenge, Pete…” Indeed it is. Pretzler stoops and grabs a firm handful of Wildchild’s dreadlocks, then hauls him to his feet. He spins WC around and applies a rear facelock. “…and what better revenge than this?” Pretzler places his left arm against Wildchild’s back and hauls him into the air. As the fan favorite’s body becomes vertical, Pretzler sits down, whipping him forward and back down toward the ramp. WHUMP! “TILDEBANG DRIVER ON THE STEEL WALKWAY!” King screams with a mixture of horror and ecstasy. A gasp runs through the crowd, and for a moment there is total silence. Wildchild does not move. Pretzler stands up and puts his hands on his hips. He stares down at his prey and nods with satisfaction. BOOOOOOOOO! “Scott Pretzler is a sadist and a hypocrite!” sputters Pete. “He may not have wrestled tonight,” King says, “but sure did make an impact! Pretzler glances toward the ring. Toward the World Heavyweight Champion. He gives the thumbs-up sign. Toxxic returns it. === SWF Smarkdown, March 21, 2005. © Riot Act Promotions. All rights reserved. The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation: “Raising workrate by typing faster.”

Earlier Today… Mak Francis pushes his way through the security doors, dressed in a white tee shirt, faded blue jeans and some black and white retro Reebok court classic pumps. Not on the card for tonight he is notably missing his travel bag, which should contain his wrestling gear. He walks fast and with a purpose, until he bumps into the man he’s looking for. “Yo, newbie!” The guy lets out an ‘eep’ and turns quickly. “Hey, you got everything set-up?” Mak asks in a tone of voice that would suggest it better be. The tech guy nods his head in the affirmative, so Mak continues on his way, still in a bad mood from last show. The tech monkey mumbles under his breath once Francis is out of ear shot. “I do have a name you know…” After a while, Mak’s pace slows until he finally stops in front of a monitor and pushes his shades down, grabbing a folding chair and depositing himself before the television set, as Storm fades to the opening card…

“It’s time for the main event,” Longdogger Pete shouts, “and what a main event we have for you! Yes fans, being broadcast to you LIVE~ from the Space Needle in Seattle, Washington we will see one half of the Tag Team Champions, Wildchild, go head-to-head with the World Champion, Toxxic-” “-I think you meant to say ‘lose to’ the World Heavyweight Champion, Toxxic,” Suicide King corrects his commentary partner. “Come on, do you really think that good ol’ Dub-Cee can take it home?” “I don’t see any reason why not,” Pete snorts. “After all, the last time Wildchild faced Toxxic he won-” “-in a tag match,” King interrupts again. “Means nothing, except to make Toxxic more determined to win.” “Well,” LDP tries again, “this is Storm so there are no rules! Don’t forget that Wildchild is the longest-reigning Hardcore Champion of all time!” “…and the last time Wildchild was in a singles hardcore match was when, exactly?” King asks in a voice dripping scorn. “Toxxic was Hardcore champion more recently, defeated the Hardcore Queen Annie Onita in a Street Fight at Ashes 2 Ashes for the World Title and recently took that same belt back from Sacred in a Fans Bring The Weapons match that you and I watched, Drain-Clogger.” The Gambling Man sits back as if his argument is unassailable. “Let’s get this over with.” ‘ATTENTION!’ “YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” The crowd goes wild as the opening of ‘Let’s Get Dirty’ by Redman blasts out of the PA system and a single spotlight starts to flash on the entrance area. ‘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…’ [“Racism, misogyny, drug references and profanity all in a few seconds,” Suicide King whispers, “Eminem would be proud!”] With the crowd anticipation at fever pitch the Bahama Bomber bursts onto the stage, the Tag Team Title belt strapped to his waist. Wildchild’s dark braids fly to and fro as the Caribbean Cruiser looks around to take it his audience - smaller than usual given the location of the show, but no less supportive. “LET’S GO DUB-CEE!” “LET’S GO DUB-CEE!” “Ladies and gentlemen,” Funyon booms, “the following non-title match is no-disqualification and no-countout, and is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first; from the Bahamas, weighing in at 214lbs, he is one-half of the SWF World Tag Team Champion… WIIIIIIILLLD-CHIIIIIIILLLD!!” “LET’S GO DUB-CEE!” The Bahama Bomber streaks towards the ring slapping hands with the fans as he goes until he reaches the ring where he performs a quick lap of honour to make sure the whole front row gets a chance to see him up close, then slides into the ring under the bottom rope. Wildchild shakes hands with referee Andy D’Urso, exchanges grins with Funyon and then climbs to the middle turnbuckle before taking the Tag Title from around his waist and proudly displaying it to the crowd who rise in their seats to return the salute! “It’s good to see the fans showing their love for the greatest ever Cruiserweight wrestler in the bid’ness,” Longdogger Pete says, but is brought up short by the stifled laugh from the Suicide King. Meanwhile in the ring theBahama Bomber jumps down from the ropes as the lights white out and a chord crashes out through the PA system - the opening to ‘Rookie’ by Boy Sets Fire. The small screen set up quickly fades to black as a familiar message flashes up in jagged white letters: ‘PREPARE TO BE PROVED WRONG…’ There is no pyro inside the Space Needle - instead after a few seconds Toxxic simply steps into view with the World Heavyweight Title around his waist, a black holdall over his shoulder and dark-rimmed eyes fixed on the shape of his opponent in the ring. The fans’ reaction is instantaneous- “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” -and Toxxic’s reaction is non-existent. The Straight-Edge Sensation blinks once, cracks his neck from side-to-side and begins to advance on the ring. “And his opponent,” Funyon continues over the boos, “from Nottingham, England; weighing in at 218lbs, he is the leader of Revolution Zero and the SWF World Heavyweight Champion; the ‘Straight-Edge Sensation’… TOXXXXX-IIIIIIIIIIC!!” “Remember fans,” Pete reminds the audience at home, “the last contact Toxxic had with Wildchild was when the Bahama Bomber delivered the Silver Bullet to win the Tag Titles from him and Sean Davis, and you gotta believe that the World Champion is still smarting from that loss!” “Yes, almost certainly,” King agrees readily, “and given the unprovoked assault on Scott Pretzler by Wildchild on Lockdown, it’s going to make letting Toxxic loose on Wildchild - with weapons legal - all the more fun.” Toxxic drops his holdall when he reaches the ring and rolls in under the bottom rope, then pops back up to his feet and strips his title belt off before handing it to Andy D’Urso. The Straight-Edge Sensation seems about to remove his customised England soccer shirt, supporting his country in their World Cup Qualifier against Northern Ireland tomorrow night, but then reconsiders and leaves it on (to the disappointment of two teenage girls in the front row). Rolling his arms to loosen up his shoulders the Brit signals to the referee that he’s ready, and D’Urso backs away from the two men then calls for the bell. *DING-DING-DING!* Toxxic raises one black-nailed hand and beckons his opponent towards him, clearly inviting Wildchild in for a lock-up. The Bahama Bomber seems about to comply, but then breaks into a sprint and rolls forward underneath the straight-edger’s grasping hands! The startled Toxxic turns on a dime to find Wildchild has already rolled back up to his feet, and the Brit’s reactions are not quick enough to dodge the Tropical Tumbler’s signature Pinball attack as Wildchild jumps to the second rope and launches his body straight back at him! The impact flattens Toxxic but Wildchild bounces up in a split-second and repositions himself beside his prone opponent. He leaps backwards into the air, looking for a standing moonsault… …Toxxic raises his knees… …and in mid-air Wildchild realises the danger and extends his hands to push himself off the Straight-Edge Sensation’s raised legs and give himself the extra boost to land harmlessly on his feet! Frustrated, Toxxic brings his knees up to his chin and then uncoils in a lightning-fast kip-up before leaving his feet again to whip an enzuigiri towards the back of Wildchild’s neck, but the Tag Champion ducks! Toxxic manages to land on his feet too, but he is unprepared and offbalance as Wildchild jumps up behind him to hook his legs underneath Toxxic’s arms and rolls backwards to take the World Champion over in a rolling clutch pin! ONE! TW- -Toxxic kicks out in short order and scrambles back to his feet but Wildchild is there ahead of him again. The Bahama Bomber swings a gauze-wrapped fist but Toxxic is still alert enough to block the blow, then takes a wild swing at his Caribbean opponent. Wildchild ducks and the punch sails harmlessly overhead, spinning Toxxic around with it, and the Tag Champion takes advantage of the situation to grab a rear waistlock. He isn’t prepared for Toxxic’s reaction though, as before Wildchild can try to get any leverage Toxxic rolls his weight forward and to the side to pull his opponent off-balance and send him toppling to the mat. The Straight-Edge Sensation then leaps on top of his opponent and goes for a side headlock to keep him under control for a while but before he can get it properly locked in Wildchild’s legs flash up to snare him in a headscissors, preventing him from applying any proper pressure. Toxxic ceases his attempt at offence and kips up again to break Wildchild’s hold on him, then grabs the Bahama Bomber’s right arm as he gets to his feet and twists in an arm-wringer as he attempts to open up on his usual secondary target. Wildchild immediately rolls forward to relieve the tension, vaulting off his left arm as he does so, then sweep-kicks Toxxic’s legs out from under him. The straight-edger crashes to the mat but Wildchild doesn’t rest on his laurels for a moment, instead turning and running for the ropes behind him. “LET’S GO DUB-CEE!” the crowd chant, only just finding their lungs after the high-speed opening! Wildchild hits the ropes and rebounds to find that Toxxic is back up to his feet already. The Caribbean Cruiserweight is caught momentarily off-guard and simply slams into his opponent with a running shoulderblock, but the similarity in their weights means that the momentum is enough to send Toxxic back down to the mat again! With the upper-hand so far Wildchild runs for the ropes again, this time at right angles. Toxxic starts to get to his feet but sees the Tag Champion returning at high speed and drops back down flat, causing Wildchild to hurdle over him. Wildchild hits the cables one more time, but this time as he bounces off Toxxic pops back up to his feet and sidesteps the onrushing Bahaman, hooking him into a reverse headlock as he does so and then dropping to one knee, driving the other one up into the back of Wildchild’s neck! Without missing a beat, Toxxic hauls his opponent up to a semi-vertical base again before dropping backwards into a reverse DDT and completing the Detoxx combo! “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” Figuring that it can’t hurt, Toxxic goes for a cover… ONE! TW- -but Wilchild easily kicks out, although he doesn’t immediately spring back to his feet this time and Toxxic takes a moment to catch his breath. The fast pace of the match seems to have stretched even the quick reactions of the Straight-Edge Sensation and he instantly focuses on a way to slow his opponent down - namely, grabbing Wildchild’s right leg. Toxxic turns the Bahaman Bomber over onto his front and, holding the right ankle securely, hoists Wildchild’s entire lower body into the air before driving the knee back into the mat! Wildchild yells in pain but Toxxic hangs onto his prize and lifts again, looking to repeat his trick… but this time Wildchild uses his arms to push his upper body up at the same time, then tucks his head in to roll forward and whip his ankle out of Toxxic’s grip! “YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “LET’S GO DUB-CEE!” “I’m just breathless watching these two,” Longdogger Pete says in amazement as Wildchild comes back to his feet and the two wrestlers pause to size each other up for a moment. “That opening exchange was one of the fastest-paced I’ve ever seen!” “But Toxxic has already realised he’s going to need to slow Wildchild down to make sure of this match,” Suicide King points out as the two men begin to circle each other again, the Caribbean shaking out his right knee slightly, “and that’s the mark of a true champion.” Wildchild makes a lightning dart in towards his opponent but the moment Toxxic moves to counter it is revealed to be a feint and the Bahaman Bomber retreats again, dark eyes staring out from the black face paint that surrounds them. “It’s interesting to note that neither man has tried to go Hardcore yet, despite their histories as Hardcore Champions,” Longdogger Pete notes as the two wrestlers begin to circle again. “Perhaps, but at the moment all the weapons will be outside or maybe underneath the ring,” Suicide King counters, “and neither Toxxic nor Wildchild is going to risk heading outside when they still have a highly agile opponent inside the ring who is more than willing to go flying over the top ropes after them!” Toxxic seems to tire of the incessant circling and advances to the middle of the ring where he stretches one hand upwards, fingers waggling, in the universal sign for a test of strength. Wildchild looks dubious but moves in to comply… then at the last moment he ducks and dodges to one side, fooling the World Champion again and slipping behind him for another rear waistlock! It’s obvious that Toxxic was expecting this but again his opponent’s dazzling speed has caught him off-guard; however, Toxxic doesn’t let Wildchild get away that easily as he begins throwing back elbows in the direction of his opponent’s temples. Wildchild dodges one to the right, one to the left, one to the right… then gets nailed with another one to the right as Toxxic second-guesses him! The blow causes Wildchild to involuntarily relax his grip and Toxxic twists around in his grasp before kneeing the momentarily-dazed Tag Champion in the gut and then hooking him in a front facelock. Toxxic then turns around again and arcs Wildchild’s neck over his shoulder in the setup for a neckbreaker, but now it is the Caribbean Cruiserweight’s turn to begin throwing back elbows in an effort to block the move, and one of these connects with the World Champion’s head. Wildchild spins around and shoves Toxxic in the back as hard as he can to send the Straight-Edge Sensation into the turnbuckles, then backs off a couple of paces and charges in after him. “Blue Crush coming up!” LDP shouts in anticipation… …but Pete should know better than to say something is ‘coming up’ in this sport, as Toxxic conforms to the universal laws and dodges at the last moment while Wildchild is in mid-spin. The Brit doesn’t hesitate in acting - his actions leave the spectators mildly confused for a moment however as instead of launching an offensive move he instead runs diagonally across the ring to the opposite corner post. Wildchild rebounds off the turnbuckles in a slightly winded condition and looks around to try and find his opponent only to see Toxxic vault effortlessly to the top rope and spring back into the air, twisting around to for the flying clothesline known as the Role Reversal… *WHUMP!* …but Wildchild leaps into the air and takes him right over with the Freefall monkey flip! “YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “DUB-CEE!” “DUB-CEE!” “DUB-CEE!” “What astonishing aerobatics from the Wildchild,” Longdogger Pete gasps in amazement; “will this give him the separation he needs to really start opening up with his high-risk aerial offence?” Wildchild takes a moment to get his own breath back after that bump into the turnbuckles a moment ago… and in that moment Toxxic coils his legs up again, then kips up before leaping into the air and- *CRACK!* -this time nailing the enzuigiri to the back of the neck! The crowd boo as lustily as they can while the Straight-Edge Sensation takes his turn to suck in air to replace that lost from his lungs after his unexpected landing and gesticulates at the prostrate Wildchild. The words are inaudible but the meaning clear; ‘you didn’t duck that one, bitch’. “Greatest cruiserweight ever, my ass…” King is heard to mutter on commentary. However, the Gambling Man’s derision may have come too soon as Wildchild starts moving again, pushing himself up into what is virtually a handstand. Toxxic is puzzled for a second but then launches a kick at his opponent’s arms in an attempt to send the Tropical Tumbler crashing ignominiously back down to the mat, but Wildchild’s circus-trained reflexes are already launching him upwards and back, vaulting over the kick and landing on his feet! Before Toxxic can react again the Tag Champion jumps up to lock his legs around the straight-edger’s neck, then snaps back to take him over with a hurricanrana! “YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Toxxic isn’t going to be taken down that easily and he’s getting back up to his feet but Wildchild is already moving; the Caribbean Cruiserweight runs forward and then leaps right over the crouching Brit, snaring his opponent’s spiky-haired head on the way over and bringing him down face-first into the canvas with the Whiplash! *WHAM!* Toxxic rolls over onto his back, clearly dazed from the impact, and with the cheers of the crowd ringing in his ears Wildchild quickly ascends to the top rope. He holds his arms out at his sides for a moment, then springs into the air and rotates down towards the prone Straight-Edge Sensation, landing hard with the Andros Drop! “DUB-CEE!” “DUB-CEE!” It takes Wildchild a moment to un-spin his head, but the moment he’s quite sure which way up is he grabs Toxxic’s leg and rolls into a cover as Andy D’Urso drops to make the count… ONE! TWO!! …but Toxxic kicks out, the burst of high-impact offence not enough to take the World Champion down yet. Wildchild’s face shows little emotion as yet and the Human Hurricane quickly runs to the ropes, then steps out to the apron as Toxxic begins to push himself up. The Straight-Edge Sensation looks around, trying to draw a bead on his opponent… and Wildchild vaults up to the top rope, then hurtles across the ring to grab Toxxic in a front facelock for the Presumed Guilty! “YEEEEEEEAAAAooohhhhhh…” However, Toxxic saw his opponent coming at the last minute and managed to half-catch Wildchild, breaking his fall as it were. The Tropical Tumbler doesn’t succeed in driving the Brit’s skull into the mat with the swinging DDT, and instead he finds himself hoisted up and driven backwards at high speed towards the nearest turnbuckle- *WHAM!* -where the breath gets blasted out of him. As Wildchild struggles for breath Toxxic withdraws his head from his opponent’s suddenly relaxed grip, then fires off a brutal European uppercut to the jaw of the Tag Champion. The force of the blow snaps Wildchild’s head back and sprawls him against the turnbuckles, but Toxxic grabs him before he slides down into a sitting position and nails another one. Andy D’Urso looks to step in but Toxxic simply waves him off, and with no DQ in operation the referee can’t make the World Champion bring the match out of the corner! Toxxic takes a step back and raises his fists, takes aim and hits his groggy opponent with a RIGHT! LEFT! RIGHT! LEFT! The straight-edger takes a moment to flip a v-sign at his opponent, then whirls around and nails Wildchild with the… DISCUS CLOTHESLINE! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “Goddamn!” Pete shouts, “Toxxic just knocked Wildchild clean over the top rope with that!” Wildchild isn’t out of it yet though, and he managed to grab the ropes on his way over and land in something of a heap on the ring apron. Toxxic backs off for a second but it quickly becomes clear that Wildchild has been rattled by the barrage of blows and isn’t quite firing on all cylinders at the minute. The Tropical Tumbler uses the ropes to pull himself upright, and with his opponent dazed, confused and vulnerable Toxxic decides to throws caution to the wind. The Straight-Edge Sensation runs forward, vaults off the second rope nearest to him and then vaults over the other top rope, snaring Wildchild with a hurricanrana as he does so and taking them both to the floor of the Space Needle! “HO-LY SHIT!” “HO-LY SHIT!” The small but vocal crowd makes their feelings clear as the two athlete try and recuperate on the outside, but as might be predicted it is Toxxic who first starts to move in a co-ordinated way. The World Champion is unsteady on his feet for a minute and has to use the steel guardrail to balance, but then sets his sights on the dreadlocked form of his opponent. With a familiar lopsided grin flickering over his features Toxxic looks around for a handy weapon… and his eyes light on the steel chair currently bearing the weight of the SWF’s premier (and indeed only) ring announcer, Funyon. Barking a terse ‘move!’ at the dapper-suited lightly-salted snack, Toxxic folds the chair up with a satisfying *snap* and turns in pursuit of his quarry. Wildchild is back up to his feet by this time although not in a great condition, and as he sees Toxxic advancing on him with weapon in hand the Caribbean Cruiserweight’s instinctive reaction is to raise his hands to protect his face… *CRACK!* …but Toxxic goes for the right knee. “Arrrgghhh!” Wildchild’s hands fly down to the traumatised limb as the surrounding crowd yell abuse at the Straight-Edge Sensation. Toxxic’s grin has gone; the World Champion is all business as he waits for the right moment, then- *CRACK!* -delivers another devastating chairshot, this time to the now-unprotected head of his opponent. Wildchild slumps backwards to the floor, and the Suicide King is ecstatic. “You see Pete,” the former Commissioner explains excitedly, “Toxxic knew when he had the time to go looking for a weapon without jeopardising his chances of winning; that’s what makes him a truly great all-round wrestler, his ability to adapt!” “I hear he still keeps his subscription open to Spot-Monkey Weekly though…” the Longdogger grunts. “Subscribe to it? He edits it!” Toxxic reaches down with a black-nailed hand and grabs Wildchild to pull his opponent back to his feet but the Caribbean Cruiser seems too hurt to stand and it virtually dead weight. Annoyed, Toxxic drops his chair and uses both hands to get a good grip, then hauls on Wildchild’s wrestling attire… however, the moment he is approaching a vertical base Wildchild stops playing possum and lifts his feet off the floor to fall backwards and take Toxxic over with a one-legged monkey flip! The Straight-Edge Sensation sprawls over and collides heavily with the guard rail as the fans start to cheer once more, but when Wildchild attempts to stand it becomes clear that his act was not much of one; the supernaturally-fast Bahaman can barely put weight on his right leg and his progress towards the dropped chair is virtually a hop. The Seattle crowd raise their voices in support of their favourite but the volume starts to fall again as Toxxic begins to clamber back to his feet, clearly anxious to regain his weapon before Wildchild gets there. The straight-edger winces for a moment as his back complains at him… and Wildchild grabs the chair. “YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!” Toxxic stops short as the Bahaman Bomber rounds on him, bad intentions writ large on his face. For a moment the Straight-Edge Sensation appears to be considering the nearest escape routes, but then he notices one thing; Wildchild is still practically balancing on one leg. “That’s right, you fool,” King laughs as Toxxic visibly relaxes and beckons Wildchild towards him, “how are you going to get close enough to hit him if you can’t walk?” Wildchild steps forward, but again it is more of a hop than anything else. Toxxic backs off a pace, still watching his opponent closely in case it’s an act, but the impotent frustration mixed with pain in the Tropical Tumbler’s face gives it away. Wildchild takes another hobbling step, and Toxxic makes his move, darting forwards and launching both feet at the Caribbean’s left knee in a basement dropkick! For once Wildchild is unable to move fast enough to evade an attack and the Tag Champion crumbles to the floor with his only support knocked out from under him. Ignoring the chair, Toxxic takes the chance to pound a few right hands into the back of his opponent’s head before getting back to his feet and looking around for inspiration. A nearby ringpost seems to attract the Straight-Edge Sensation’s attention and he hauls Wildchild to his feet before rolling the wincing Tag Champion into the ring under the ropes. Wildchild struggles but he is unable to get away as Toxxic grabs his ankles from the floor and drags him across the canvas to the corner, then quickly adjusts his grip so that each hand holds an ankle either side of the ring post. “Shut your eye Dub-Cee, it’s time to make a wish,” King laughs as the assembled crowd in the Space Needle holds its breath… *CHING!* “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” The Wildchild yells out in pain and clutches his groin as his family jewels collide with a hard, upright pole that doesn’t belong to Johnny Dangerous. Now Toxxic’s eyes light on the chair again and the World Champion wanders over to pick it up, still feeling the effects of Wildchild’s earlier offence. However, once he has the weapon in his hand he lines up his sights on the Tropical Tumbler’s right knee, positioned as it is against the steel ringpost… “Uh-oh,” LDP mutters as Toxxic draws the chair back, “this could get-” *CRACK!* -but we’ll never know what it could get, as Wildchild wises up to his plight at the last minute and manages to get his wounded limb out of the way! The impact of steel on steel jars Toxxic’s hands and the straight-edger drops his weapon cursing, and Wildchild sees his chance. The Bahaman Bomber manages to pull himself up to his feet, sore balls and all, and takes hold of the top rope. The crowd rises to its feet in anticipation as the Caribbean Cruiserweight takes a deep breath, then uses the spring in the rope and the thrust of his one good leg to vault himself up and over… *WHAM!* …and land on his opponent with a plancha! “YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!” “LET’S GO DUB-CEE!” “LET’S GO DUB-CEE!” “A one-legged cruiserweight,” Suicide King says, shaking his head sadly. “It’ll never catch on.” Both men are down but there is no doubt which one the crowd wants to rise first. Chants for the Caribbean Cruiserweight fill the observation deck of the Space Needle and Wildchild seems to respond. In spite of the battering he’s taken so far his fighting spirit is still as great as ever, and as he rises to his feet the crowd noise increases even more. Breathing heavily, Wildchild leans down unsteadily and lifts up the ring apron to look underneath. If he knows the SWF ring crew… yes. The Bahaman Bomber reaches in one tape-wrapped hand and pulls out… “YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!” …a Kendo stick. “Now we’re cooking with gas!” Longdogger Pete shouts. “I think Toxxic’s number just came up, and it’s time for Wildchild to collect!” The World Champion in question has pushed himself up to his hands and knees and with his head down is still ignorant of Wildchild’s new armed-and-dangerous status. The Tropical Tumbler isn’t going to let him find out on his own however, as he raises his weapon before bringing it down- *SH-WACK!* -right over Toxxic’s back! The Straight-Edge Sensation lets out a yell of pain but Wildchild doesn’t stop there, instead changing his aim to land a blow on Toxxic’s buttocks that sends the World Champion scrambling forward on all fours to the delight of the crowd! “DUB-CEE!” “DUB-CEE!” “Do you think they still used the cane in British schools when Toxxic was there?” Pete crows. “One man in spandex spanking a guy in eyeliner,” King muses. “Hey, when did Riley take over Creative Control?” Now well aware that he is under attack Toxxic pushes himself up to his feet and turns to face his attacker, but Wildchild presses forward and swings the cane with all the skill and viciousness that got him that record-breaking Hardcore title reign. *SH-WACK!* *SH-WACK!* *SH-WACK!* Toxxic tries to shield himself as best he can with his arms but to little avail; not only do the blows whip past to strike his head anyway, the ones that do land on his arms serve only to numb them and make them clumsier. With no other option the straight-edger beats a retreat around the ring as Wildchild follows up, no longer hobbling quite so much as his knee begins to recover, and the fans continue to go wild… *SH-WACK!* “DUB-CEE!” *SH-WACK!* “DUB-CEE!” Finally, one strikes slips through and cracks Toxxic right atop the head causing the Brit to tumble backwards and fall to the floor. The crowd cheers anew at this sight and urge Wildchild to move in and finish his opponent off, but as he raises his weapon in triumph Wildchild fails to see Toxxic’s hand reach out for something. He has been chased right around the ring, and now his hand has found the steel chair that he dropped earlier. Wildchild takes a good, two-handed grip on his weapon… *CRACK!* …and Toxxic throws the chair into his face. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Wildchild staggers back and Toxxic desperately forces himself upwards. His arms are still numb from the kendo stick shots and he simply barrels forwards, looking to slam bodily into his opponent and take him down to the floor. Unfortunately for the World Champion those same arms didn’t really get much force behind his throw, and Wildchild never lost his grip on the kendo stick. *SH-WACK!* The blow catches Toxxic in the gut and his rush stutters to a halt as he doubles over and clutches at his stomach. Now Wildchild drops the kendo stick… but he picks up the chair instead. “FUCK HIM UP DUB-CEE, FUCK HIM UP!” However, instead of belting the World Champion in the skull with his newly-acquired equalizer Wildchild slides under the bottom rope into the ring where he unfolds it and places it about five feet away from the ropes. The crowd noise dies down a little as they wonder what their favourite is playing at, but then Wildchild heads off towards the far ropes and starts to clap his hands together. The Seattle fans quickly catch on that something is coming up and as Toxxic begins to straighten up again Wildchild begins to move. Not the lightning sprint of usual - the limp is still strongly evident - but fast enough to pick up speed, vault with his left leg off the seat of the chair and twist in mid-air… …land in a sitting position on the top rope for a moment, facing away from Toxxic as the World Champion looks up with an almost comical look of horror spreading over his features… …and flips backwards to nail a MASSIVE Arabian Press onto his opponent! “YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!” “HO-LY SHIT!” “DUB-CEE!” “What a move from the Bahaman Bomber!” Longdogger Pete shouts as the small crowd erupts. “Could that be enough for the win?” Wildchild picks himself up again, battered but unbowed, and takes a deep breath. His head hurts and his knee hurts but he is on the edge of what most spectators would consider an upset of sorts, and the opportunity to send another message to Scott Pretzler is tantalising. With all his might the Tropical Tumbler strains to lift Toxxic off the floor to roll him into the ring where the pinfall will count. “DUB-CEE!” Unfortunately Wildchild is not the strongest member of the SWF roster at the best of times, and with a dodgy leg his ability to deadlift is severely damaged. Grunting with the effort, Dub-Cee struggles with his straight-edger burden… and after a few agonising seconds he manages to get Toxxic off the floor and onto a level with the ring! The Bahaman Bomber pushes with all his might and rolls the World Champion under the bottom ropes, then crawls in after him and drapes an arm over his opponent! ONE! TWO!! THHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE- -NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!! “THAT WAS THREE!” “THAT WAS THREE!” “The Seattle crowd seem unhappy with the referee,” Longdogger Pete comments as the Space Needle starts yelling in anger at Andy D’Urso, who shrugs apologetically but still brandishes the damning two fingers at Wildchild. The Caribbean Cruiserweight looks astonished at the decision and questions the official closely - not threateningly, but simply unable to believe that what he felt was a bona fide three-count was in fact a close two. However, as he does so Toxxic slowly begins to move… and suddenly throws an arm up between Widlchild’s legs to bring him over backwards with a schoolboy rollup! ONE! TWO!! “No!” Pete shouts, “Wildchild was so close!” THHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!! “LET’S GO DUB-CEE!” “LET’S GO DUB-CEE!” Wildchild pops his shoulders off the canvas at the very last moment and comes to his feet to find himself staring down into the dazed face of his opponent. Toxxic looks like that was his last throw of the dice, but the Straight-Edge Sensation didn’t become World Champion without being resourceful and he simply throws his weight forwards to fire a shoulderblock into Wildchild’s right knee! The Bahaman Bomber falls to the mat writhing in pain again, but Toxxic doesn’t go for the cover. Instead he turns and starts to crawl towards the other side of the ring… towards the entranceway through the crowd. “He’s running away!” Longdogger Pete says in disbelief. “Toxxic never runs away!” “Running away?” King scoffs. “I don’t think so!” “So what is he doing then?” LDP demands as Toxxic gets his upper body out of the ring and reaches down, presumably to brace his fall to the floor of the Space Needle observation deck. Meanwhile Wildchild has staggered up to his feet again and is looking around. “What else is over there?” the Longdogger asks. “LOOK BE-HIND YOU!” “Over there?” King echoes. “Well, the Bag of Tricks for one!” Sure enough, a new camera angle shows that Toxxic is reaching into the black holdall that he left at ringside when he entered. Wildchild has taken the crowd’s advice to find his apparently-fleeing opponent and the Caribbean Cruiserweight grabs hold of Toxxic’s ankle. The crowd cheers as their limping hero drags the supposedly-craven World Champion back into the ring, but a few sharp-sighted individuals can see Toxxic clutching something in his left hand. “Wildchild! Look out!” Longdogger Pete shouts, but the noise of the crowd drowns him out. Wildchild takes a firm hold on Toxxic’s ankle and rolls the Straight-Edge Sensation onto his back… …and gets a momentary impression of a small black canister before it all goes straight to hell. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “AEROSOL EQUALIZER!” Suicide King shouts as Wildchild staggers back clutching his eyes. “Toxxic just maced him with Chris Card’s Aerosol Equalizer! And it’s legal!” The crowd are shitting on Toxxic as he staggers wearily to his feet, but King hit it on the head; it is legal. The Straight-Edge Sensation cracks his neck as he watches Wildchild stumble in a circle, hands waving blindly in a futile attempt to defend himself, and pockets the mace before pulling out the other item that he rescued from his Bag of Tricks. He slips it over his right hand and measures the blinded Wildchild… *BAM!* “Brass knucks!” Pete moans as Toxxic’s right hand describes an arc that ends with it crashing with devastating force into his opponent’s temple. “There’s no way Wildchild’s getting up from that!” Toxxic doesn’t necessarily seem to agree. He kneels down over the prostrate form of his opponent, trapping Wildchild’s arms with his knees, and brings his hand back one more time. *BAM!* “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” This time the Straight-Edge Sensation seems satisfied. He rolls sideways into a cover, hooking the leg to make sure… ONE! TWO!! THHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! *DING-DING-DING!* “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “Ladies and gentlemen, here is your winner,” Funyon booms over the crashing opening chord of ‘Rookie’, “the Straight-Edge Sensation… TOXXXXXX-IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIC!!” The World Champion slowly and unsteadily pushes himself up, collecting his belt from Andy D’Urso as he does so. However, as he reaches his feet a new figure enters the ring - a blonde figure with a title belt of his own and a cocky grin on his face. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “It’s Scott Pretzler!” LDP shouts in dismay as The Critic pauses to nod at his battered leader. “The Cruiserweight Champion is here, and the challenger is defenceless!”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Funyon booms to the excited Washington fans crowded inside the Space Needle. “The following match will have NO RULES and is for the SWF Intercontinental-Television Championship!” “Welcome back to SWF Storm!” bellows the excited voice of Longdogger Pete. “There is no slowing down tonight as we bring you the second match for the SWF Title belt semi-finals and this one is a long overdue rematch between Johnny Dangerous and Landon Maddix!” “That’s right, Drain-Clogger,” agrees the Suicide King, which rather surprises his announcing partner. “Hopefully, it’ll be the long overdue end to Landon Maddix’s God-like ICTV run as well.” “You mean you’re actually placing your bets for the Barracuda in this match?” Pete amazedly asks. “Somebody grab my coat; hell is about to freeze over!” “Color me surprised too. My loathing of Johnny Dangerous is, in fact, well documented,” replies King, “but if it means an end to Landon holding a Championship belt in the SWF than I’m jumping on the Barracuda bandwagon.” “Introducing first, the Challenger!” Funyon continues with his entrances as the lights dim down before a voice whispers a name in a deep, sultry voice… “JOHNNY DANGEROUS~!” …and the Space Needle trembles with delight! “After the Flesh” kicks up from the speakers, getting a solid cheer from the fans and even more so when the Barracuda himself steps out from the makeshift backstage. Fans crowd the aisles leading to the ring, hoping to grab a good snapshot or a high five from the Secret Agent, but he simply passes by them and slides into the ring – his focus is totally on the task at hand. “From Las Vegas, Nevada and weighing in at two hundred-seventeen pounds! He is one half of the SWF WOOOOOOOORLD TAG TEAM CHAMPIOOOOOONS… JOHNNY ‘THE BAAARRAAACUDAAA’ DAAAANGEROUUS!!” “We’ve seen a much more aggressive side to Johnny of late,” notes Pete as Johnny climbs a turnbuckle and pumps his fist to the crowd. “I’m betting we see more of that tonight seeing as how this match has absolutely no rules and as such, anything goes!” 'PREPARE...FOR...LANDON!' ...WAAAAAHHHHH... *DUM DUM* The crowd roars with cheers as “Megalomaniac” thunders through the Space Needle, heralding the entrance of the ICTV Champion! Landon swipes aside the curtains and steps out in front of the crowded room to a second pop, but tonight his focus isn’t on the crowd it’s on the man challenging him for his title. His eyes narrow as he regards Johnny Dangerous in the ring and a hand protectively moves to his waist to shield the ICTV Championship belt. “Just look at him; Landon doesn’t appear to be very confident coming out here tonight. I think he knows taking on the Barracuda is going to be a hellacious challenge for him,” King says. “If you’ll remember, King,” notes Pete. “Landon received a Demonstar Driver from Toxxic at From the Fire that put him out of commission for the last few shows. You have to be wondering how that neck is holding up now and if he is truly one hundred percent for this match, as I’m sure those are the exact thoughts running through the mind of Landon Maddix right now.” “And his opponent,” says Funyon as Maddix plods down towards the ring, with the luscious Megan Skye following a step behind him. “From Huron, South Dakota, and weight in at two hundred-twenty pounds, he is the LONGEST REIGNING SWF INTERCONTINENTAL-TELEVISION CHAMPIOOOOOOOOOOOON… LAAAAAAAANDOON ‘LA CUCARACHAAAA’ MAAADIX!!!” Landon slides into the ring and Megan takes her place at ringside. He slowly unfastens the title belt from his waist with a constant eye on the Barracuda then dangles the belt out for Ronald ‘Red’ Herrington, the official for this match. Herrington raises the belt out to the fans, letting them get an eyeful of the glimmering gold belt before handing it off to a ringside assistant, and then signaling for the bell. DING DING DING!!! “Bells gone,” says Pete as the fans crackle and buzz with excitement. It’s been too long since these two foes squared off and their enthusiasm for this match clearly shows. The two warriors start a slow-paced circle of one another and make one revolution before Johnny stops, looks at Landon with a wide-toothed grin and extends his hand for a handshake. The notion gets a roar of cheers from the Washington fans, but Maddix looks warily at the extended hand. “Will you look at this,” says Pete. “Such sportsmanlike conduct the Barracuda is displaying tonight. It isn’t the first time he made such an offer to Landon – he did it at Ground Zero in 2004 as well.” “Yeah, but he laughed in Johnny’s face at the suggestion,” King reminds his announcing partner. “I’m rather surprised that the Barracuda would even want to try and shake Landon’s hand after that incident! However, I think Maddix owes it to Dangerous to shake after the Ground Zero debacle.” Landon glances over his shoulder at the fans. He can see them urging him to accept the handshake with encouraging shouts, and then he glances back at the Barracuda… and finally, though begrudgingly, he accepts the handshake to a loud pop! “Such sportsmanship between these two stars,” says Pete, but inside the ring the emotion is much different. The vein’s in Landon’s forehead start to swell as he stares at the grinning face of Johnny Dangerous and then he quickly breaks the handshake and moves to begin circling his opponent. “Here we go!” beams Pete, and the two men come together in the center of the ring and clash with a murderous collar-and-elbow lock up, fighting for purchase like two gladiators! RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!! They scramble for leverage until Johnny manages to overpower his opponent, powering him back towards the corner. Johnny keeps pushing as Landon tries his damnedest to get his opponent off of him! Finally, Maddix desperately fires off two short forearms into the Barracuda’s face and Johnny wobbles out of the corner a bit, giving the Champion some space, but only after a parting jab to the Champion’s cheek! SMACK! “OOOOOOOOOOOOOH!!” The crowd gasps in disbelief and Landon’s eyes widen to roughly the size of saucers as a hand instinctively moves to his face, watching the Barracuda’s face light up with a devilish smile. “I don’t know who’s more surprised by that little cheap jab of Johnny’s,” says Pete, “the crowd…or Landon Maddix!” “Consider it a wake up call,” King smugly adds, just before Landon explodes out of the corner and slams his knuckles into the side of Johnny’s face, catching the Barracuda by total surprise in return! WHAM! RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!! Johnny is rocked on his heels from the punch! He stumbles back and Landon gives chase, pulling the Barracuda’s hand away from his face before railing him with a second hard right as the Washington fans ignite with excitement! “What an explosion of aggression from the Champion,” says Pete. “Here we were worried about Johnny teetering on the brink of going mad in this match and it’s Maddix who unleashes the fighter within!” Johnny falls back into the ropes, dazed, as King can only look at his partner in bewilderment. “I think it might be you who’s going mad,” he finally says as Landon grabs Johnny by his arm and pulls him off the ropes, then sends him barreling across the ring with an Irish whip! Johnny hits the ropes and rebounds towards his opponent… WHAM! …and gets floored as both of Landon’s feet are driven deep into the Barracuda’s chest with a drop kick! Landon quickly floats over for the cover and the referee counts: ONE! And nothing more! Johnny kicks out quite easily and then starts to make his way back up to his feet, but the Champion is relentless in his effort to keep the belt strapped to his waist and unloads with some kicks to Dangerous’ ribcage! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! The crowd only gets fired up even more by the senseless brutality, which is only stopped when the Barracuda wisely rolls out of the ring to avoid further abuse. He dazedly staggers back into the crowd barricade, holding tightly to his side, while inside the ring Landon howls with excitement, pumping his fist out to the crowd before shouting at the Secret Agent to get back in the ring! “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Landon quite so fired up before,” says Pete. “I’m not so sure if the Barracuda was prepared for this after all!” “Don’t you worry about the Barracuda,” King hatefully replies. “Landon’s over confidence in himself is already starting to show, and if he lets it control his actions I assure you it will be the pinnacle of his demise!” After some hesitation Johnny does indeed slide back into the ring. He knew when he did though that Landon would try to quickly take advantage once more. As expected, Maddix rushes in and tries to land some stomps into his opponent, but Johnny quickly rolls out of the way and up to his feet… SMACK! …and smacks the Champion in the mouth with a back hand, sending a stream of spit flying out of the side of Landon’s mouth to a big “OOOOOOOOOH!” from the crowd! Johnny grabs his opponent by the arm and tries to whip him across the ring, but Maddix quickly digs his heels into the mat and reverses the whip, sending Dangerous for the ride instead! Landon pauses for a beat and watches Johnny hit the ropes and rebound, then rushes in for a clothesline… WHOOSH! …But Dangerous ducks under the attempt. He pops up behind Maddix and reaches back, grabbing around Landon’s head to nail a quick reach-behind neck breaker! WHAM! Almost instinctively, a hand shoots to Landon’s neck as he groans angrily and tries to get back up to his feet to avoid a second attack. It doesn’t take much to realize that the Barracuda has definitely hit a sore spot –- one that has yet to fully heal -- and Johnny takes note of Landon’s plight with a devilish smile, getting a mixed reaction from the Washington crowd as he gets back to a vertical base himself. “I’m not sure I like the direction this one is about to head,” Pete warily says. “Johnny’s already trying to test out that neck, and after a single neck breaker it’s obvious that Landon is far from completely healed.” “You got that right,” agrees King. “You have to hand it to the calculating mind of the Secret Agent to have studied up on his opponents enough to know their weaknesses and to put it to the test.” “Yes, because it wasn’t like we all saw Landon running around with a neck brace on for the last two weeks,” deadpans Pete. Johnny rushes in after Maddix, looking to lock up with the Champion, but Maddix will have none of it. He knows not to let this man in too close and he ducks out of the way and takes off across the ring, picking up some serious steam before hitting the ropes and springing back towards Johnny… WHACK! …and Landon runs straight into a stiff shoulder block! Once more the Champion finds himself staring up at the ceiling – this time with Johnny diving on top of him for the cover. ONE! T – NO! Landon easily kicks out and starts to push up to his hands and knees. He tries to make it to his feet but before he can the Barracuda pops up to his feet, swings his elbow out, and then drops the point of his elbow into the back of Landon’s neck, eliciting a whelp from Maddix’s lips. Johnny pops back up to his feet once more, grabs Maddix by his hair to pull him half way up, and then drives that elbow back into the Champion’s neck again! CRACK! “Oh!” Pete winces at the hits, “the Barracuda is really exposing Landon’s neck now – he saw that the first hit obviously struck a bad nerve and now he’s focusing his attack on it!” “Smart move if you ask me,” adds King. “Hell, something we take as such a common move, like a German suplex, could really have some damaging effects on Maddix with the shape that neck is in. Landon would be wise to keep Johnny at arms length as much as possible.” Once more Johnny pulls Landon up, but this time he leaves the Champion’s neck be. Opting to let that aggravation in Landon’s neck slowly tick away at him instead, and whips Maddix across the ring, then stoops down to ready himself for a back body drop on Landon’s return. A return that never comes, as Maddix quickly latches onto the ropes when he hits them, keeping himself from firing back at Johnny then drops and rolls out of the ring. “Oh, look at this chicken s(Beep!)t run,” grumbles King as Landon staggers across the length of the ring holding tightly to his neck. The look of agony is as plain as day on his face and Megan takes note. She rushes in towards Landon, looking quite worried, but before she reaches him Maddix orders her away. He knows that the Barracuda will only be a step behind him, pursuing him like he were on the FBI’s most wanted list, and he couldn’t risk his manager accidentally getting on the receiving end of an attack – accidentally or purposely. “I think Landon might just be trying to buy him some time to work out the kink in his neck,” Pete suggests. “That or maybe he’s trying to keep Johnny as far away as possible, as you suggested, King.” “He might be wise to follow my advice for once,” King replies. “But that distance between him and Johnny is about to close up; the Barracuda is on the prowl!” Sure enough, Johnny rolls out of the ring and stalks after his retreating opponent. Megan frantically tries to warn Landon from the safe distance that she’s at, but the Champion’s focus appears to be solely on working his neck. “Watch out, Landon!” shouts Pete as Johnny grabs Maddix by his shoulder and spins him around to face him… GAAAAAAAH!!! …and Landon suddenly reaches up and rakes the Barracuda’s eyes, getting a tremendous pop from the Washington fans! Johnny stumbles back, both hands covering his eyes and hollering in pain and Landon Maddix stalks after Johnny. He boots Dangerous in the gut, doubling the Agent over the cracks him in the face with an absolutely ferocious forearm blast, sending Johnny flying back into the crowd barricade! Landon shoves Johnny back up against the barricade before he can slump down it, and then nails him with a solid right hand, and another, and another, and another… RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!! “Such ferocity from Landon!” shouts Pete, “perhaps targeting that neck wasn’t in the best of Johnny’s interests after all – it seems to have set the Champion off!” The crowd is going completely wild from the intensity of this match, even some scattered chants for the Champion break out. However, his focus isn’t on them for the time being and he continues to pound the living daylights out of his Challenger. He pulls Johnny off the Barricade by his head and leads him towards the edge of the ring to send a final, brain-jarring jolt through the Agent’s head as he slams Johnny’s forehead into the ring apron! Dangerous’ head glances off the apron like a well-aired basketball and he goes straight to the floor. For a moment, Landon just glares down at the Challenger, breathing bloody murder, before finally dragging Johnny up to his feet with all his strength then rolling him into the ring and going for a cover! ONE! TWO! NO! Johnny kicks out just after two then rolls up to his hands and knees… CRACK! …and Maddix kicks him squarely in the ribs, sending him back onto his back. Johnny cradles his burning side while groaning before Landon covers him once more with a lateral press. As expected, Herrington drops back down to count for: ONE! TWO! NO! “And once more Johnny gets the shoulder up just after two,” notes Pete. “That pounding Landon gave him in an effort to ward off the Barracuda from his neck looks to have slowed Johnny down tremendously. Johnny just may have set the course for his own bittersweet demise by upsetting the Champion.” “Don’t count your chickens till they hatch, Toilet-Clogger,” warns King. “He may have slowed down Agent Dangerous relentless assault, but he has yet to slay the dragon for good!” Johnny starts to make way back to a vertical base, but Maddix is determined to keep control of this match and more importantly keep control over his opponent, and he grabs Johnny by his jet-black mane and jerks him to his feet then bashes his forearm into the side of Dangerous’ head once more! Johnny stumbles back and once more, Maddix -- hard pressed to keep the pressure strong – chases after Dangerous and swings his fist- -Johnny suddenly throws up a forearm to block the blow, surprising even Landon who thought the Barracuda was to dazed to offer up a counter, and then Johnny absolutely blasts the Champion in the face with a hard punch! WHAM! Landon stumbles back from the ferocious blow to the head and Johnny gives chase, nailing him with repeated knees to the gut that force the Champion back into the ropes! He grabs Maddix by the arm and sends him across the ring with an Irish whip. This time Landon isn’t able to grab onto the nylon ropes and he bounces back towards the Challenger and is leveled with a monstrous clothesline, flattening him against the canvas! Landon doesn’t stay down though; quickly rolling back up to his feet and dazedly staggers to the side. “Landon back up,” says Pete. “I think he knows that staying on the mat would put him in a perilous position against Johnny.” “Maybe so, but is it better to take a vertical based attack over a ground based one?” questions King, right before Dangerous swoops in from behind on the Champion, locking his hands around Landon’s waist. Maddix’s eyes widen to roughly the size of dinner plates when he realizes that he might be in even more dangerous of a position than even before as Johnny hauls him off his feet… “Oh, my God, no!” cries Pete, “he can’t pull off these kinds of moves on Landon – not in the current state of injury he’s facing!” WHAM! …and Johnny slams his opponent into the mat neck-and-shoulders first with a deadly German suplex! The fans rise from their seats – they know the fragile state the Champion is in and what kind of repercussions this kind of move could ultimately have and they horrifically peer into the ring, watching Maddix wail in pain while clenching both sides of his neck. “Yes!” exclaims King. “That’s the ticket, Johnny! A few more of those and we might not ever have to look at Landon again… well not at eye level, anyway, he’d be significantly shorter rolling around in a wheel chair all the time.” “It’d be the end of his wrestling career,” adds Pete. “Surely a title isn’t worth ending somebody’s career over.” “Why not, Toxxic’s done it about fifteen times. Plus it might reinvent Landon’s career. They could call him Landon ‘Hot Wheels’ Maddix!” Johnny inches over towards Landon and covers him for: ONE! TWO! TH – NO!!! Landon thrusts his shoulder up, reinvigorating the crowd, and getting Johnny a bit steamed from the Champion’s stubbornness! “Damn it!” curses Mr. Applewhite, “doesn’t Landon know when to stay down? It’s obvious that Johnny has already torn his neck apart with a few simple moves and he’s risking even more but choosing to continue. He’s determined to win even when he possibly can’t!” “Landon knows what’s at stake here and quite frankly, it’s more than he’s ever risked in one match before,” says Longdogger. “He has the ICTV Championship, a shot at the SWF Title, and he’s risking what could be the longest title reign in SWF history – all in one match! You’re damn right he’s determined to win!” Landon pushes up to his feet. His determination starts to get the really going and they break out with a thunderous chant of his name: “LAAAAAAAAAAAN-DON!” “LAAAAAAAAAAAN-DON!” “LAAAAAAAAAAAN-DON!” “LAAAAAAAAAAAN-DON!” “LAAAAAAAAAAAN-DON!” Just as Maddix gets to his feet he’s met by an oncoming rush from the Barracuda and he swats at Johnny to ward him off. Dangerous is only stopped momentarily though until a kick to his gut knocks all the wind out of his lungs, deflating them as if someone piercing a balloon. Landon grabs the Barracuda by his arm then steps forward to whip him across the ring, but Johnny plows his feet deep into the canvas, stopping the whip, then pulls a reverse on the Challenger. Johnny ducks and goes behind on Maddix then reaches up through his arms to snap on a full nelson then lifts him up. Once Johnny has the Champion at the apex of the jump he dives forward… WHAM!! …and sends Landon face-first to the mat with his full nelson slam! “RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!” “Dangerous Driver!” King excitedly shouts, practically frothing at the mouth to see Landon this close to loosing. His eyes widen eye more when Johnny quickly floats over and traps Maddix’s arm between his legs and locks his fingers around Landon’s chin then pulls back, “-and Johnny locks in the Interrogator!” exclaims Pete as Dangerous snaps the cross-face submission in place, and exerts all the pressure he can on Landon. “This could be curtains for Landon Maddix and his untouchable ICTV reign – he can’t take much pressure on that banged up neck of his and there’s no rope breaks to save him this time!” Landon’s blood-curdled cries of pain is enough to make Megan turn away from the match, but the fans eagerly rise up from their seats, watching with their mouths gaping wide open! “Come on, Landon!” The pain running through Landon’s neck is ungodly to say the least. He knows he doesn’t want to give in but his body is telling him otherwise – it can’t take much more of this pressure. His hand stretches out… “He’s gonna tap!” shouts King. “We’ve got us a brand new Intercontinental-Television Champion tonight!” Finally, as Johnny adds a bit more torque Landon has no choice… TAP! TAP! TAP! “RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!” DING DING DING!!! “He’s done it!” exclaims Pete, “I can’t believe this day has come, but it has!” Though Herrington may have ordered an end to this match, Johnny refuses to let go of his opponent who is begging for mercy. He keeps exerting all the force he can on Maddix, making sure Landon will remember this until the day he dies! Finally, Herrington pulls Johnny off of him, much to the relief of ‘La Cucaracha’ and shoves the ICTV title into his chest. “Ladies and gentlemen,” bellows Funyon, quickly hoping up from his seat and grabbing his microphone. “The winner of this match and NEEEEEEEEEEEEW SMARTMARK WRESTLING FEDERATION INTERCONTINENTAL-TELEVISION CHAMPIOOOOOOOON… JOOOHNNY ‘THE BAAAARRAAAACUDAAAA’ DAAANGEROUUS!!!” Herrington raises Johnny’s arm out as the announcement is made to a huge pop from the Washington crowd. Crowing a new Champion seemingly diverts their attention away from Johnny’s rather ferocious victory, but their cheers are quickly drowned out when “After the Flesh” kicks up in celebration of the Barracuda’s victory, booming into every inch of the Space Needle! “After one hundred and thirty eight days Landon Maddix has been kicked off his throne,” says Pete. “More like the Barracuda kicked over that throne then broke it into a hundred pieces and beat Landon into submission with the left over leg,” adds King. “Now, not only has Landon lost the ICTV Championship, but he’s been eliminated from the SWF Title tournament as well. Talk about killing two birds with one stone!” “I’m not sure I share your excitement for Landon’s loss,” replies Pete. “However, I am glad to see the Barracuda gaining more depth to his singles career. Time will tell if it translates into a victory in the tournament finals, and with the two finalists set the tournament is coming to an exciting finish!” Landon dazedly makes his way towards backstage with Megan’s help and one hand clutching his neck, and then stops as he looks up at the giant screen overhead. He sees Johnny on the turnbuckles, joyfully shouting out at the fans as he raises the belt out to them, then shakes his head in disbelief. His head droops down and then he and Megan continue towards the curtains… As We: FADE OUT.

Ben Hardy is backstage with Scott Pretzler. The Cruiserweight Champion is no longer wearing the bandage on his left arm; it has been replaced by a large neck brace. “Mr. Pretzler, I’ve heard several reasons as to why you’re not competing here tonight. Would you care to give these people a definite answer?” Pretzler reaches up and touches the neckbrace lightly. He winces from the pain. “You know, Ben, I was really looking forward to wrestling here on Storm. Believe me. And shoulder injury has in fact healed. You might even say I’m in the best shape of my life.” Hardy is surprised by this. He starts to point to Pretzler’s neck brace. “Oh, that. Well, as I was saying, you might say I’m in the best shape of my life… and that would be true, except for the fact that last Monday on Smarkdown, I took the Wild Ride on the f*cking steel ramp. ON THE RAMP. I experienced pain the likes of which most people could scarcely imagine… I could have broken my neck, I could have died. As we speak, horrible unbearable pain consumes every fiber of my being.” Hardy appears embarrassed. “Yet I still came here, still made the effort to attend this show, because I love what I do. Because I wanted to support my friends and my teammates. And you, professional wrestling’s equivalent of Joan Rivers, you stare at me with that goofy half-smile on your face and you try not to laugh and you ask me why I’m not competing tonight? Just who do you think you are, Mr. Hardy?” Ben Hardy struggles for an answer. “I…I…” “No. Don’t respond. Take a while and think about what I said. And next time, do the proper research before you make such ignorant and arrogant presumptions. Better yet, don’t ask questions when you already know the answers.” Pretzler walks off, proud of the tongue-lashing he has just administered.

We return from the commercial break, and we see a split screen of both Jay Hawke and Austin Sly lacing up their boots. Pete: “The two competitors are almost ready as the tournament to unify the USJL and ICTV titles continues. “ The camera cuts to the broadcast booth. “We started with six men involved. We’re down to four now, two of them being the USJL and ICTV champions, and a third one being one-half of the World Tag Team Champions.” King: “And one man hasn’t held a title in the SWF at all, and that is Jay Hawke. But what an opportunity for him here in Seattle. I erroneously said last week that Hawke was two wins away from his first championship gold, but that’s not true. Tonight, if Jay Hawke can beat Austin Sly and advance to the championship finals, he becomes the new…and last…United States Junior League Champion.” Pete: “And it was less than two weeks ago that these two men were partners against Wild & Dangerous, the World Tag Team Champions, and Jay Hawke publicly stated that had Austin Sly been more aware of his surroundings, maybe they’d have gotten the win.” King: “Well, Austin Sly had gotten the foot on the ropes, but Johnny Dangerous wisely pulled it off before the referee could see it. Hawke contended that Sly should have been smart enough to kick out if he was coherent enough to reach the ropes. This is going to be very interesting.” Pete: “And with that, we’re going to head up to the ring for the introductions.” Funyon: “Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is a semifinal match in the title unification tournament. It is scheduled for one fall with a 30-minute time limit, and it is for the SWF United States Junior League Championship!” The familiar strains of Pink Floyd’s “Learning to Fly” come on the PA as the lights dim. Funyon: “Introducing first, the challenger … from the Hall of Fame City of Cleveland, Ohio … weighing in at 215 pounds … ‘The Dean of Professional Wrestling’ … JAAAAAAAAAAY HAWWWWWWWWWKE!” A spotlight shines on Jay Hawke as he emerges from the curtain -- stationed firmly in front of the elevator at the top of the space needle -- and he heads to the ring wearing his trademark black and purple robe. As the crowd gets into its familiar chant… “HAWKE SUCKS! HAWKE SUCKS! HAWKE SUCKS!” …Jay Hawke slowly turns his head toward the crowd and smiles before reaching into the robe and pulling out a lead pipe. He hits the pipe along the steel steps, which rings a loud clang throughout the Space Needle, before entering the ring. King: “He’s ready for Storm, isn’t he, Pete?” Pete: “He certainly looks ready for action, and he’s got himself an insurance policy in that lead pipe. It looks like the referee is going to make him put the pipe down.” King: “Why? There aren’t any rules.” Pete: “I think he just wants to make sure the match starts on the up-and-up.” The lights in the arena go dark... pitch black. A hush falls over the fans at ringside, as a single spotlight shines down onto the stage at the beginning of the entrance ramp. A quick excerpt from Rage Against The Machine's cover of "Beautiful World" plays out. "It's a wonderful place, oh what a wonderful place..." "For you..." "... for you..." "For you... not me..." ... Boom! Pyros explode from each side of the stage, launching a mix of red and gold stars towards the ceiling and cueing a change in music as Zach de la Rocha's voice once again floods the building, this time doing a cover of "Street Fighting Man". The arena lights pulse along to the beat. Funyon: “His tag team partner…from St. Louis, Missouri…weighing in at 237 pounds…he is the SWF United States Junior League Champion…AUUUUUUUUUSTIN SLYYYYYYYYYY!” Austin Sly emerges from the elevator/curtain, looking at the fans in disgust before shooting his gaze over to “The Dean of Profession Wrestling”. But Austin isn’t any more well-liked than Hawke is, as the fans cascade him with boos. Sly walks to about the halfway mark between the curtain and the aisle, but he quickly breaks into a dead run and baseball slides into the ring. Hawke immediately charges with the lead pipe, but referee Red Herrington grabs him to stop it. Jay Hawke glares at the referee as if to say “Hey, it’s Storm, there are no rules,” but Herrington says “I don’t care what you do after the opening bell, but wait for it, dammit!” King: “Come on! Let them kill each other!” Pete: “They will as soon as we get a bell, King!” *DING DING DING!* Pete: “And there’s the bell to signal the beginning of the match!” King: “So they can kill each other now?” Pete: “Absolutely!” King: “Yay!” Austin Sly immediately jumps on his challenger, leveling him with a hard series of right hands. Yes, they’re closed fists and normally illegal, but in this match, anything goes. He adds a couple of clotheslines for good measure, each of them bringing the challenger down to the canvas. A hard whip into the turnbuckle, and Jay Hawke staggers out of the corner, running into a back body drop. Jay Hawke rolls over toward the corner, but Austin Sly is right there with him and chokes him down against the bottom turnbuckle. Pete: “Austin Sly has obviously been listening to what Jay Hawke’s been saying about him lately, and he doesn’t take too kindly to it, King!” King: “He’s had this choke on for at least ten seconds! And there’s nothing Herrington can do about it, because there are no rules on Storm!” Austin Sly changes things up by breaking the chokehold just long enough to start choking Hawke with his boot instead. He releases, stomps the challenger several times in the corner, and then starts another boot choke. He releases, and this time Jay Hawke rolls to the center of the ring for a quick breather. Sly doesn’t allow him to have that breather though, as he immediately slams Hawke’s face into the mat. THUD! And again. THUD! Austin Sly stands behind “The Dean of Professional Wrestling” as he slowly makes his way to his feet, then he quickly takes him back down with a bulldog headlock. He covers: ONE! TWO! Kickout. Austin Sly picks up Hawke and sets him up as if to go for a hiptoss, but Hawke counters with a thumb to the eye. He drives his knee into the champion’s ribs, then quickly bounces off the ropes and takes his opponent crashing to the mat with a swinging neck breaker. The cover: ONE! TWO! Kickout. Hawke is quickly up, and as Sly tries to pull himself to his feet, Hawke runs off the ropes and immediately takes Sly back down with a running knee to the head. Another cover: ONE! TWO! Kickout. Pete: “Each man going for quick pins in the early going here.” King: “And while it’s always good to want to go for the quick pin, you don’t want to be too aggressive either. Unlike in the first round, this time you have 30 minutes instead of 15 to get the job done. You might want to get behind your opponent and level him with a chair to the head for about 22 minutes or so.” Jay Hawke locks in a chokehold on Austin Sly. Red Herrington asks for a break, but Jay Hawke says “There aren’t any rules” and continues to choke him out. He finally releases the hold, then covers the USJL Champion: ONE! TWO! Kickout. Jay Hawke immediately locks his opponent into a reverse chinlock. Pete: “A near fall for the challenger, and now he’s trying to wear the champion down with this reverse chinlock.” King: “And it comes back to that extended time limit. He couldn’t do this against Todd Cortez with the 15-minute time limit, but the longer time limit allows him to take his time and wear the opponent down while contemplating his next move.” The Suicide King makes a great point. However, the reverse chinlock also gives the victim a chance to consider his next move, which in Austin Sly’s case is a simple rake of the eyes. Hawke immediately breaks the hold to cover his eyes, and Sly begins to make his move. A series of eye rakes and punches has the challenger reeling, as does the clothesline that actually knocks “The Dean” down. Austin Sly quickly heads out to the ring apron. Just as Hawke gets to his feet, Austin Sly springboards off the top rope and levels his challenger with a dropkick, causing Hawke to roll outside to the arena floor. King: “Brilliant move by Jay Hawke! He rolls out to the floor to prevent Austin Sly from getting the pin!” Pete: “But Austin Sly is heading out to the floor after him!” King: “And no rules means no countouts! They’re allowed to be on that floor as long as they’d like!” Normally would be the time that we have a long, drawn out explanation of how this fight went to the back of the arena. But it probably took longer to say that sentence out loud than it did for the fistfight to get to back of the Space Needle, seeing as how the Space Needle doesn’t really have a lot of space for the crowd. It does, however, have a gift shop, where the fight gets to almost immediately. They exchange punches in front of the counter. Jay Hawke goes for a haymaker, but Austin Sly ducks and backdrops Hawke over the counter, sending the cashier running for her pretty little life. King: “Why is it that every time we do one of these shows on location, we always end up in some odd spot of the building?” Pete: “Do you want to go back to that playground?” King: “I’m just glad we’re not behind that gift shop counter right now.” Austin Sly hops over the counter, then reaches up and grabs hold of a Space Needle pen set. He opens it and takes one of the pens out, clicks the button to get the ink extended, and stabs Jay Hawke with it. And again. And one more time, this time holding it and digging into Hawke’s forehead as Hawke screams out in pain. King: “I wonder if this kind of thing is covered by Jay Hawke’s medical plan.” Pete: “Somehow I doubt that.” Austin Sly slams Hawke’s face into the gift shop counter a few times. Sly then hops up onto the counter, grabs Hawke in a front facelock, and leaps, spinning Jay Hawke into a tornado DDT onto the gift shop floor. Pete: “What an innovative move by the USJL Champion!” King: “Too bad this isn’t a falls count anywhere match, because if it was, Austin Sly would retain the title right here for sure!” Austin Sly picks up Jay Hawke and slams him onto the counter top. Sly turns around and spots his next weapon of choice. He grabs a souvenir coffee cup and lifts it up as if to hit Jay Hawke with it, but Hawke kicks Sly’s hand away. Sly holds it back again, but Hawke boots Austin Sly right in the head. He lifts it again, but this time Hawke puts his foot just a few inches below the belt. Austin Sly’s eyes nearly roll into the back of his head as Hawke grabs the coffee cup away from him. Hawke rears back… SMASH! …and breaks the coffee cup over Austin Sly’s head. Sly doesn’t appear to be bleeding, but he’s certainly the worse for wear as Hawke grabs him and rams him into the back wall of the gift shop. Hawke then flips Sly over the counter before hopping over himself and punches Sly back toward the ring. Pete: “It appears as though both of these superstars are trying to get this back to the relative safety of the ring!” Funyon: “Five minutes have gone by, 25 minutes remain in the time limit.” King: “Well, they have to return to the ring eventually since this isn’t a falls count anywhere match, but I was rather enjoying the gift shop brawl!” The two competitors have made their way to ringside. Jay Hawke grabs Austin Sly and rams his head into the ringpost. He tries it again, but Sly blocks it and hits Hawke with a knee to the midsection. Austin Sly rolls Jay Hawke into the ring. He hops onto the apron as Hawke gets to his feet, and Sly springboards into the ring and nearly knocks Hawke’s head off with a spinning heel kick. The quick cover: ONE! TWO! THR…kickout! Austin Sly quickly picks Hawke up and takes him right back down with a swinging neck breaker. Another quick cover: ONE! TWO! Kickout. Austin Sly isn’t done yet, as he picks up Jay Hawke and catches him with a couple of knees to the midsection. He grabs Hawke by the waist and take him down with a Northern Lights suplex: ONE! TWO! Kickout. Pete: “Three near falls over the course of maybe 30 seconds or so, and the challenger could be in big trouble right here.” King: “You don’t think he’s trying to play possum here, do you?” Pete: “Absolutely not.” Austin Sly grabs Jay Hawke in a double underhook, then drops Hawke head first with a double-arm DDT. Another cover: ONE! Jay Hawke puts his foot on the bottom rope. TWO! Austin Sly pulls Hawke’s foot off the rope. THRE…kickout! Austin Sly immediately complains to the referee about a slow count. Pete: “Unbelievable! Jay Hawke is still in this contest!” King: “And notice one thing. Sly pulled Hawke’s foot off the rope, and Hawke still kicked out! Like he said last week, if you can get your foot over the rope, you should be able to kick out!” Austin Sly is still arguing with the referee, and that gives Hawke enough time to grab Sly from behind and take him down with a German suplex: ONE! TWO! Kickout. Both men are quickly up to their feet. Hawke punches Austin Sly a few times, then he bounces off the ropes and levels the champion with a lariat. The immediate cover: ONE! TWO! Kickout. King: “What a match! They went from brawling in the gift shop to going at it in a strong style shootout in a matter of minutes!” Pete: “And it’s been a pretty even match! Either man could win it with one blow!” Jay Hawke takes Austin Sly down with a swinging neck breaker. He doesn’t go for the cover. Instead, he grabs hold of the arm and leg drops it, then hangs on and locks in a short arm scissors. Austin Sly grimaces in pain as Jay Hawke tightens the grip. Pete: “The Dean is going for a submission here!” King: “I doubt very highly that Austin Sly is going to submit in a match this important, but knowing Jay Hawke, he could very well break his arm if he hangs on to this hold for any length of time!” Austin Sly slides over until he drapes a foot over the bottom rope. The referee asks for the break, but there isn’t really anything he can do since there are no disqualifications. Hawke does eventually release the hold on his own, but he isn’t finished yet. He picks up Austin Sly as if he’s going to body slam him, but he takes him down with a shoulder breaker instead. Pete: “Jay Hawke is beginning to focus on that shoulder of Austin Sly, obviously to set up that Wing Span!” King: “How humiliating would it be for Sly to lose that title by submission? I don’t think we’ll see it happen, but I know Jay Hawke wants that if at all possible.” Jay Hawke grabs the champion’s left arm and slaps on a Fujiwara armbar. Austin Sly cringes in pain, but he seems to be fighting it off. He crawls for the ropes…reaching…clawing… Hawke: “DAMMIT!” Yeah, I think he made it. Pete: “And the resilience of Austin Sly comes into effect here. He’s still clawing and scratching, trying to retain the championship any way he can!” Jay Hawke pulls Austin Sly to the center of the ring and locks in a reverse headlock. Sly fights it, but Hawke drops the back of Austin Sly’s neck onto his knee. Sensing victory, Jay Hawke climbs to the top turnbuckle. Pete: “What’s he doing?” King: “Climbing to the top rope, stupid!” Pete: “We haven’t seen Hawke do this a whole lot since joining the SWF!” But it’s usually successful when he does it, and it is again, as Hawke catches Sly in the shoulder with a diving head BUTT. But he doesn’t go for the cover. Instead, he gets behind Austin Sly, yelling at him to get up. King: “He’s sensing victory here, Pete.” Pete: “He could be going for that Wing Span!” As Sly gets to his feet, Jay Hawke locks in the crossface chickenwing, then hops up and locks his legs around the free arm. The Wing Span is locked in! But the champion is still on his feet, and he falls forward. They’re close enough to the ropes that Sly is able to get a hand on the ropes and pull each man to the outside. Jay Hawke doesn’t immediately break as they tumble to the floor, but he does release the hold, clutching his arm. Pete: “Austin Sly just countered the Wing Span!” King: “I’m not sure we can actually call that a real counter! But it’s a very smart move to force Hawke to break the hold, and he’s apparently hurt his arm on the impact.” Both men get to their feet, with Austin Sly behind Jay Hawke. Sly musters up most of his remaining strength to shove Jay Hawke in the back, and Hawke hits the ringpost shoulder first. Hawke slumps to the floor as Austin Sly rolls inside the ring. Pete: “And now it’s the champion regaining control!” King: “Jay Hawke is crawling away from the ring. He’s headed for the timekeeper’s table.” And when he reaches the timekeeper’s table, he grabs the lead pipe. Pete: “Jay Hawke’s going for an added advantage, and I’m not sure Austin Sly’s seen it!” That’s probably a safe bet, as Austin Sly reaches through the ropes to pull Jay Hawke into the ring but gets a surprise… SMACK! “OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” …a lead pipe shot to the face that sends him falling to the mat like he was shot. Hawke immediately slides into the ring and covers, hooking the left leg: ONE! TWO! THREE! *DING DING DING!* “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Funyon: “Ladies and gentlemen…in 9 minutes 42 seconds … the winner of this contest … and NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEW SWF United States Junior League Champion … “The Dean of Professional Wrestling” Jay Hawke! Pete: “I can’t believe it” King: “I can! What an impressive victory! Jay Hawke is always thinking in there, and he gained himself the victory with smart thinking!” Pete: “He hit the man with a lead pipe!” King: “Smart thinking, just like I said! Jay Hawke grabs the championship belt and holds it over his head in victory as the fans continue to shower him with boos. Pete: “Well, be that as it may, we’ve already crowned one new champion tonight, and we’ve still got one title on the line as we find out who advances to meet Jay Hawke in the tournament finals! Don’t go away!” Jay Hawke leaves the ring, the belt over his shoulder and an arrogant smile on his face we cut to commercial.

SWF Storm returns in the legendary Space Needle in Seattle, Washington. The camera pans down through the massive crowd packed into the Space Needle’s makeshift arena. It settles down at the commentary table with Longdogger Pete and Suicide King. “Welcome back fans, we have just kicked off an extraordinary show with Koran and Manson clashing! But we have much more show to deliver including the SWF Belt Semifinals and Wildchild squaring off against Toxxic!” LDP shrills. “But before Toxxic can crush Wildchild we have to put up with more novelty acts,” King says. “Now King Wildchild is on a roll especially after a victory against our HGC Champion, Insane Luchador, and now he can prove his talent that I know he has!” LDP defends. “Defeating IL… that’s an accomplishment?” King laughs. “Well regardless of what you think now you get to see Insane Luchador in action,” LDP says. “Good now I can go check out the Gift Shop, get myself some souvenirs!” King insists, beginning to stand up. “I wouldn’t go there King, because that’s where Arch Griffon and Insane Luchador will square off for the Hardcore Gamers’ Championship!” LDP exclaims. King mumbles as he sits down and the screen fades away. It cuts back into the Gift Shop where oblivious tourists bustle. In amidst of the chaos Insane Luchador, Matthew Kivell, and Arch Griffon all stand. Matthew Kivell stands in middle of it, being bumped by random tourists; Insane Luchador glances around in his wildly spiked hair, khaki cargo pants, beaten black shoes, and a long sleeved black shirt. People stare at the massive Arch Griffon oddly in his wrestling attire of white tights and white wrestling boots. “Well both competitors stand in at 6’4” but Arch has superior strength, weight, and has the power to squash Luchador within seconds. IL’s natural instinct is to brawl but in this case it’s entirely out of the question, he’s going to have to rely on his flying skills,” LDP analyzes. “Which means he’s more or less screwed,” King jeers. The two competitors stand in the cashier’s line as a family of three stands behind them impatiently. Kivell quickly reviews the rules, or lack there of, and asks if both of them understand. Both nod and Kivell moves out of the way, signaling for the match to begin. Insane Luchador steps up and chest bumps into Arch, the two engage in trash talking. “There’s no bad blood between the two but their desire for that HGC title makes them enemies,” LDP says. The two look ready to start the brawl until a shout from behind them is heard. “Hey buy something or move out of the line!” The disgruntled father hassles the two SWF wrestlers. Both of them turn around in disbelief and shoot the family a hard look. “Yeah, yeah, yeah I’ve seen your type, now buy something or move it!” The father continues. Then whispers to his wife, “I’ll tell you these wrestling fan dorks…” Arch Griffon advances but the Insane Luchador plays the hero, snatching Arch in a full nelson! “He nearly assaulted a tourist, that’s not right,” LDP says. But Griffon rams himself back, smacking the Luchador between the cashier’s desk and his well built body. Luchador lets go of the hold and slips away, bolting to the right. “Arch Griffon is from Des Moines, Iowa. If he can catch greased up pigs I’m sure he can catch the Insane Luchador,” King says. “You know King, besides Des Moines being Iowa’s capital it’s quite urban. Matter of fact it’s just like any city you’d find in a major state. Now beyond there…” LDP oddly speaks. “That was an extremely odd thing for you to say…” King says, baffled. “Yeah… it was like it was out-of-body,” LDP says. “Out of character almost,” King says. Arch Griffon grunts and looks around, stepping over the velvet rope to his left. He scans for the Insane Luchador on the wrong side of the gift shop. He stares at the shelves and glass cases of memorabilia, including a massive 3D puzzle of the Space Needle. He turns back around and there’s a holler. “Hey don’t take my statue!” Somebody objects and Arch turns to the direction of the sound, charging through the velvet ropes then towards the Luchador. He pushes tourists out of the way, grunting as he scans through the shelves, hunting for his opponent. He begins to walk down an aisle of shelves people parting like the Red Sea for Moses. But suddenly from the end of the aisle the Insane Luchador leaps out, swinging the clay replica right onto the head of Arch! But the Iowan retaliates by grabbing a plastic Space Needle and stabbing it towards Luchador’s eye! “Oh now that’s just brutality!” LDP shouts. Luchador grabs the plastic weapon just in time trying to keep it away from poking his eye out. He throws a knee at Griffon and nails him with a shoulder barge to send him smacking against the shelves! The shelf wobbles and Arch grabs another plastic replica, this time of a blue variation, and lunges out, smacking IL in the face. “…That might have hurt,” LDP says with doubt. Griffon drops the toy and he grabs Luchador, spinning around and throwing him straight into the shelves he found himself up against. As 201 pounds of a psychotic mess smacks the shelf it topples over and Arch grins. “Timber!” It falls over and there are gasps from the tourists followed by the innocent civilians poking their heads towards the action. Arch Griffon surges forward but Luchador smacks him with his two feet, rolling up and tackling Griffon into the opposite shelves. By now the tourists are split into two groups- the observers and the pant pissers. The pant pissers begin to stream out of the narrow exit, creating a massive stampede to leave the store. “You know the lawsuits we’re liable to face if anyone of them dies?” King promptly asks. “Don’t worry, we have Grand Slams’ attorney!” LDP reassures him. Suicide King nods then pauses, thinking of all the time he found holes and clauses in his former friends’ contracts. “Ah crap…” The observers hug against the walls as the Insane Luchador gets to his feet and grabs the bucket of cheap two-dollar pen replicas, throwing them towards Griffon! Like bullets against Superman they fall harmlessly but Luchador has a plan- leaping out and swinging the glass bowl! Only to have it smack the top of Griffon's head... and then it bounces off. Luchador swears and drops the plastic bowl and then grabs Griffon, chucking him towards the register. “You know it can be hard to tell the difference between the two,” LDP admits. He charges forwards only to have Griffon tug up one of the registers, turning around, and dangerously swinging it! Luchador has the reaction time to duck underneath the assault but Arch immediately withdraws the swing, smacking it on top of his foe’s head! CACHING! “He just got nailed with that cash register!” Luchador falls to his knees and sways. He ducks down and wraps his arms around IL, picking him up for the scoop slam! But inside he inches towards the cash register table and the employees bail out of the way. Luchador gets slammed against the cash table and he rolls off behind it. “That scoop slam can be quite devastating, can’t it LDP?” King snickers. “…Shut up, nobody remembers that joke you bastard,” LDP counters. “The man got hit by a car twice and you tried to finish him with a scoop slam?” King laughs. “Shut. Up.” Arch Griffon reaches over the counter trying to snatch the Luchador but to no avail. He pokes his head curiously over the counter, seeing no HGC Champion in sight. “SSSUUUUEEEYYYY!” The Luchador taunts from the left portion of the gift shop. The pant pissers come scurrying away like cockroaches exposed to light. Arch Griffon grunts and comes stomping over the Insane Luchador, knocking over the novelty t-shirts rack. “Now that’s just excessive,” LDP protests. But Arch grabs the metal rack and shakes the shirts off, giving himself a nice steel weapon. He advances towards the Insane Luchador backed against the monstrous shelf. He looks back and sees no other option, swiping his arm and pushing the cheap objects off the first shelf. He hops onto it and clears the second shelf, scaling up there. Arch Griffon sees what the Luchador is attempting and he comes charging at him with the steel rack sideways- only to smack against the sides of the two shelves with his weapon. He grunts as he tries to dislodge his new toy but just can’t. “Okay… he’s officially smacked all the brain cells out of his head,” LDP says. “Well Luchador’s the one scaling a higher shelf that has no sort of escape,” King points out. “Well at least he can plead crazy!” Arch puts a boot up to the steel pole for leverage and tugs with all his might- snapping the rack and falling flat to his posterior! “His stupidity is duly noted,” King admits. This only angers the Iowan as he stands up and comes bolting towards the Insane Luchador who’s not even close to the top shelf yet. He’s just out of Arch’s reach as he lunges his arms towards the Luchador, hopping up to grab his one foot! He begins to tug IL down but the wily veteran snags a handful of the replicas and tosses them below. He continues to rain the toys down but it doesn’t seem to help. Griffon takes a huge tug and yanks the Luchador down, falling onto the floor and pile of replicas. “You know a lot of those things are pointy, that’s somewhat dangerous,” LDP says. But before Arch can continue the assault a tourist inches towards him and taps his shoulder. He turns around and sees an elderly lady. She politely asks, “Sir, could you possibly take a picture?” “…Uh, sure.” “Oh bless your heart,” the old lady says. Arch grabs the disposable Polaroid camera as the lady scrambles to get behind one of the still intact replicas. Her husband comes in aided with his cane, standing next to his wife. “Aaww, that’s sweet,” LDP says. The Iowan fumbles with the camera as the old lady tries to instruct him what to do. Meanwhile the Insane Luchador quietly walks over to a glass showcase, slowly picking it up. He creeps up on the HGC challenger and calmly waits for the picture to be taken. Finally he takes the picture and the Luchador pounces, smacking his opponent right in the head. The old lady screams. “Oh you hooligan devil! With your spiked hair and loud music! EVIL!” She exclaims and grabs her husband’s cane, charging, well, kind of towards the Insane Luchador! “Man she’s lucky she wasn’t around for Crow, Aecas, or Dace,” LDP says. IL doesn’t know how to react as she reaches him and begins to smack him with the cane. “Hey King?” LDP asks. “Yeah?” “How many moves have actually been done?” LDP asks. “…Less than a dozen?” King answers. Luchador laughs and tries to escape but the tenacious lady winds back and smacks Luchador right in the chest with a hit that echoes! He stumbles backwards and she falls to her knees, wheezing. “Oh Jesus,” King says. Meanwhile Arch Griffon stands up and grabs a handful of the glass. Insane Luchador rubs his chest and looks up to see his opponent charging at full speed! To disorient the Luchador he chunks the glass shards and then tries to grab IL! But the HGC Champion attempts to dodge and Griffon only grabs the front of Luchador’s shirt- ripping it wide open! The few observers give out catcalls and the males soon become the pant pissers, bailing out. Luchador glances down at his red chest and then shrugs. Arch lunges forward and grabs the Luchador in a front facelock then snags a handful of pants, snapping over for the snap suplex! “RED BOOBIES!” King screams. “You’re making jokes that nobody remembers again you senile bastard,” LDP shouts. Luchador smacks against the floor and slowly begins to crawl away towards the velvet ropes where they started the match. Arch Griffon stalks after him like a crazed killer in any cliché horror movie. Andrew Rickmen rolls to his feet and reaches towards the wall, grabbing a framed picture of the Space Needle. He whirls around and brings it overhead- crashing it onto the top of Griffon’s cranium! The picture is destroyed and Arch now has a frame as a necklace. Luchador laughs and uses this time to send a flurry of striking attacks. Arch is able to nail a punch right into Luchador’s face, sending him reeling back! But he latches his arm around the huge 3D puzzle which stops his momentum. Griffon charges and Luchador throws the puzzle out of his way, ducking underneath a clothesline! He then is able to use both arms to secure the full nelson! Above them the arena is going crazy as they watch the SmarkTron, knowing the Brink of Insanity is coming! “Brink of Insanity!” LDP shouts. “Oh don’t act like it’s entertaining now,” King spits out. Insane Luchador forces the two forwards but Arch resists heavily. The two near the counter and Luchador jumps and leans forward, smacking Griffon against the table. He then sets the challenger up straight as he hops onto the table and leaps off, swinging his legs to the side! Arch Griffon is helpless as he is sent falling right through the 3D Puzzle! “Oh! That might of stung a lot more than usual,” LDP shouts. Luchador flops his opponent over and hooks the leg! Kivell emerges from a shadow along with another pant pisser as he drops down to make the count- “ONE!” “TWO!” “This could be it!” LDP screams. “TTTTHHHHRRREEEE!” The bell, above them, chimes in. “Well Luchador snags the victory in an incredibly interesting match…” LDP recaps. “By ‘interesting’ you mean trash,” King corrects. “Well… yeah…” LDP admits. “But the matches after this won’t suck, so don’t go away!” -Fade to black-

We return to the grand majesty that is SWF Storm, everyone inside and surrounding Seattle's Space Needle, and surely those watching abroad, anxiously waiting for the ring action to get underway… "Welcome back to Storm, LIVE from the Space Needle in Seattle, Washington, where we kick things off tonight with Mohammed Koran taking on Manson!" Longdogger Pete announces. "Manson fell to Johnny Dangerous in the SWF Title Tournament, as I expected," King says. "However, he should be ready to go here, and he's no doubt looking for someone to kick around after that disappointing loss." "We're ready to begin, so let's go to Funyon!" "Ladies and Gentlemen, the following is a No-DQ Singles Match, scheduled for one fall! Introducing first…" As the house lights dim and red strobes pulse and flash the fans rise to their feet, the buzz in the arena reaching a fever pitch, as Mastodon's "Crusher Destroyer" blasts from the speakers. Manson emerges moments later to an explosive round of cheers and heads straight down the aisle, focused on the ring. "Hailing from Denver, Colorado, and weighing in at two-hundred and thirty five pounds… MMMAAAAANNNSOOONNNN!" Nearing the ring, he thrusts a hand in the air, throwing up the horns in stride, before rolling in under the bottom rope. He pops up to his feet, immediately going over to his corner in the lower right portion of the ring, where he stretches against the ropes. Moments later, Mohammed Koran walks out, microphone in hand, as "Crusher Destroyer" fades out… "Tonight, the SWF is in Seattle, and despite the city's supposedly liberal nature, it is the home of rabid consumerism, it is the home of greedy, domineering corporations and ruthless capitalism! Like it or not, I speak the truth! You are ALL driven by the almighty dollar, and are in fact no better than the rest of the scum in this country. All of you, so long as you allow yourselves to willingly give in, will continue to feed the imperialistic, oppressive machine that is the United States of America! Absolutely none of you are innocent! It's because of EACH and EVERY one of YOU that the country and the world at large is in the state that it's in!" Koran says, riling up the fans, as they begin a light "USA" chant. "And you, MANSON, are just one example of what's wrong with America!" Koran says, as he turns his attentions toward the ring, and the fans continue to boo. "You have no respect for anyone but yourself, and will walk over anyone so long as it suits you. You are rude, uncouth and irritatingly boastful! Your stubborn nature and your aggressiveness, your brutal, bloodthirsty nature is only matched by the President and his people. By using you as an example, everyone will come to know the name of Mohammed… Koran! He finishes, dropping the mic behind him, then hocking a loogie down at the floor. "Ironic that he makes his home in Washington, D.C." LDP says. "Manson doesn't look too impressed with his tirade," sayeth King, as Manson keeps the usual stoic look on his face. "Definitely not. It doesn't exactly seem like Koran was calling him out on anything new." Koran, The Tigris Express, climbs the turnbuckle and raises his arms out to the side, as Manson emerges from his corner, and Kivell calls for the bell. ::DING DING!:: Koran climbs down from the turnbuckle and turns toward Manson, who bolts toward him and engages him in a lock up. Manson pushes Koran back in his own corner, digging his feet in and establishing position, but the bigger Koran stands his ground. Koran begins shoving Manson back now, but Manson takes him into a side headlock. He attempts to wrench in the hold, but Koran has none of it, and he pushes Manson off toward the right hand side ropes. Coming back, Manson gains steam, and runs right through Koran with a shoulderblock! "BIG shoulderblock by Manson to start things off!" exclaims LDP. Koran rolls up to his feet, and is grabbed by the hand. Manson attempts the whip across the ring, however Koran counters that with a knee to the stomach, followed by a hard forearm to the back, taking him down to his knees. Quick to follow up, Koran heads behind Manson as he stands, ducking under the arm and with a grunt, he lifts Manson up. After briefly holding him in the air, Koran drops him down spine first across his knee! Manson grasps his lower back, grimacing and in obvious pain after the backbreaker, and Koran scrapes the toe of his boot on Manson's forehead to the boos of the crowd. "And a sickening backbreaker by Mohammed Koran, dropping Manson across his knee out of the back suplex!" "And a boot scrape to go along with it," King adds. "I'd probably like him more if he weren't such a disagreeable prick." Manson props himself up on his elbow, and is brought up the rest of the way by Koran, who grips Manson and sends him toward the far camera side ropes. Manson bounces off the ropes, but there's Koran, who opts for a running back elbow to the jaw, which sends Manson through the ropes and out onto the floor! "We're going to the outside early, which is always a dangerous place to be, especially during a match on Storm," surmises LDP. "I'd say Manson is usually more adept to the situation, but Koran is a desperate, paranoid man who's usually willing to do whatever's necessary to win and spread his views in the process," King says, as Koran heads out onto the apron. Koran beckons Manson to stand, and Manson does so, causing Koran to jump off the apron, and DOWN onto the Stampede with an elbow to the back of the neck! Manson goes down to the floor, and Koran taunts the crowd, causing them to unleash a torrent of jeers. "And it's just as you said, King, as Koran catches Manson with the point of the elbow off the apron." Manson grips the back of his neck, slowly getting back up to his feet, as Koran waits over him. With Manson up on his feet, Koran takes him by the arm, and sends him toward the steel steps! ::CLANG!:: Manson bangs off the steps knees first, which sends him hurtling up and over, and he crashes on the floor in a heap, wracked with pain. Spitting down toward the floor, Koran then heads after Manson, not allowing him a moment to rest. Taking him by his hair, Koran brings him back into the ring, and he goes for a cover. "Manson into the steps! And Koran rolls him back in!" screams LDP. "ONE!" "TW--" -He gets the shoulder up! Koran stands, bringing Manson up with him. He strikes Manson with a left jab and takes hold, whipping Manson toward the lower left corner of the ring. Koran heads after him, extending the arm and hitting the clothesline in the corner. Mohammed pulls Manson out of the corner and sets up a powerslam, when Manson springs to life, hitting Koran with a punch, and another, stifling his attack. Manson takes advantage, hitting Koran with another fist, and as his grip weakens, Manson hits a headbutt, freeing himself from Koran. Koran shakes it off, and Manson allows him no rest, as he grabs Koran under the arm so as to prevent escape, and lets loose with a series of rapid fire chops to the neck. "Manson with the short, quick chops to the neck, putting a stop to Koran's momentum!" comments LDP. Koran goes down to a knee, and Manson brings him back up, but Koran resorts to the old Greco-Roman thumb to the eye. Manson tries to shake it off, as Mohammed heads for the right hand side ropes. Koran bounces off and heads back toward Manson, but the Raging Bull takes a step and blasts him in the face with a boot! Koran goes down to the mat, and as he rises back up to his feet, Manson starts toward the left hand side ropes and bounces off. Koran stands and turns, just in time as Manson swings and connects, absolutely obliterating him with a tremendous western lariat and falling into the cover! "WHAT A LARIAT BY MANSON!" screams LDP. "Who does he think he is, Stan Hansen?" "As much as Flesher would enjoy that, no, he still needs the tobacco juice." "ONE!" "TWOOO!" -He gets the shoulder up! Manson pushes himself to his feet and waits for Koran to stand. Koran gets up to a vertical base, and with his back to Koran, Manson reaches back, looking for the Consequences, but Koran manages to shove him off in desperation. However, before Koran can react, Manson spins around back toward him and nails him with a rolling elbow square to the jaw! Koran goes down to a knee, and Manson brings him back up, wrapping an arm around his head and hooking the tights. Manson grunts and heaves Koran up onto his shoulders, cradling the legs, then drops back down to the mat, hitting a superb MUSCLE BUSTER! He goes into a cover! "We've never seen that one before. Manson with a muscle buster!" "Yeah, that's gotta be it." "ONE!" "TWOOO!!" "THREEEE!!!" ::DING DING!:: "Your winner by pinfall… MMMAAAANNNNSOONNNN!" announces Funyon, as "Crusher Destroyer" hits and the fans explode into cheers, and Manson has his hand raised by Kivell. "Manson takes care of Mohammed Koran in short order. It was hairy there for a bit, but he pulled it out, utilizing the muscle buster in order to do it." "I never really had my doubts, to be honest. Manson is a vet here, and Koran just couldn't match up." "He never even got to break out the brass knucks, thankfully. Anyway, we'll be back with more on SWF Storm, after this!"

FIVE… FOUR… THREE… TWO… ONE… SWF STORM IS A-GO!!! *BANG! BANG! BANG! BUH-BUH-BUH-BOOOM!!* “YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!” The lights come up, the pyros go off and the cameras pan around to show the heaving, sweating mass of humanity that has packed into the arena for tonight’s SWF show. Signs aplenty are in evidence as always, varying from ‘WILD-CHILD!’ to ‘MADDIX-LANDON IV: A NEW HOPE!” passing through “NUMBA 1 CONTENDA: JENKINS!” “Welcome to SWF STORM!” Longdogger Pete shouts over the roar of the crowd, “we are coming to you live from the SPACE NEEDLE in SEATTLE, WASHINGTON!!!” “Dude…seriously…we are really REALLY high up,” Suicide King whines, as the crowd behind him screams. “Stop your whining,” says Pete, “Are you scared of heights, King?” “I’m not scared of anything!” Every light in the arena goes to full power as the Smarktron whites out. For a moment the only sound is that of a needle scratching over vinyl... And then *BAM* “AHHHH!” shouts King; the crashing guitars of Lamb of God’s “Black Label” send a bolt through the crowd. The drumming sends a jolt throughout the arena, as the pace of the intro begins to pick up. Finally… “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH” The high-pitched scream of Randy Blythe breaks through the speakers as the bright white lights begin flashing at the entranceway. Spike stumbles out dryly from behind the entrance curtain, the black hood from his Throwdown – “Straight Edge” sweatshirt covering his face, with only a few strands of hair being visible. Spike drops down to one knee, leaving one arm to hang to the ground, while the other is firmly placed on his knee. After a few moments, Spike raises both arms into an “X”, symbolizing his Straight Edge life style. Spike rises to his feet and begins to make his way down the isle towards the ring. ”Coming to the ring at this time…he is THE NUMBER ONE CONTENDER TO THE SWF WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP!!!!” booms Funyon, “He is ‘HOLLYWOOD’ SPIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIKE JEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENNNNNNNNNNNNKIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!” Spike rolls underneath the bottom rope, until he hits dead center in the middle of the ring. Spike rises to one knee and resumes the position he was in at the top of the entranceway. One arm hanging to the ground, the other placed on his knee. Finally, Spike rises to his feet. He quickly peels off the hood, releasing his blonde, dyed hair free. He puts his arms together, forming an “X” across his chest, again promoting his Straight Edge life style. “SPIKE! SPIKE! SPIKE! SPIKE!” “The number one contender to the SWF World Heavyweight Title! Spike Jenkins will get a shot at his former leader, Toxxic for his title!” “Much good that is going to do him. Toxxic is out to KILL Spike!” Funyon hands Jenkins the microphone as he exits the ring to leave the number one contender to do his thing. Spike looks around the Space Needle as they cheer him on. “I haven’t said much since I was kicked out of Revolution Zero…and yes, there is a reason for that. The reason is I wanted to let my actions speak louder than my words,” Jenkins pauses before continuing, “The reason I was kicked out of Revolution Zero is because Toxxic realized that I was coming up in the ranks. I was and am still today the longest reigning Cruiserweight Champion in SWF history!” The crowd cheers as Spike looks around the Space Needle in approval. “You see, Toxxic is SCARED of me. When he brought in Sacred into Revolution Zero, he knew deep down that I was right. That Sacred would turn on us…and what happened? Sacred turned his back on us just like I predicted. That was only the beginning. He knew that I was slowly climbing up the ranks and he knew that I’d be receiving a title shot at him,” Spike continues, “So what did he do? He let Sean Davis out to do his biding. He let Sean Davis go out to take out Landon Maddix before Landon’s shot at the World Title. But what happened? Davis failed. Plain and simple…and yet, Toxxic STILL wanted to give him a World Title shot over me.” “Well…Spike obviously upset about being looked over in Rev-Zero…” “He was just jealous of Sean Davis being Toxxic’s favorite.” “Well, I’d hate to agree with you…” “You see, Sean Davis was a failure. He couldn’t get anything done without me. But that didn’t stop Toxxic from trying to hold me down and keep me in my spot. When my time finally came to step up and get a shot in the spot light…Toxxic decided that it would be in the Revolution’s best nature to take me out. He thought it would be for the best…boy, what a mistake THAT was.” “Toxxic, at first, it was about the SWF World Heavyweight Title. It was about the fame and glory that came with it. I wanted it…I tasted it…I NEEDED it. But now, it is all about revenge. I am out for blood…YOUR blood. Remember when I said that I wanted to let my actions speak for me? Well, they have. I am going to take out every single member of Revolution Zero. I am going to do something the likes of Nathaniel Kibagami, Landon Maddix, Janus, Dace Night, Wild and Dangerous, or Martial Law could do. I am going to take apart the Revolution, one by one, until there is no more. Tonight, I official proclaim the start of MY Revolution,” Jenkins cries as the crowd gets behind him with full force. “I started already with the ‘monster’ Sean Davis. The big lug I had to carry on my shoulders for all those months. He’s out of here. Just like that. With the snap of my fingers. Gone. He won’t be back for a LONG while. All I have to say about that is…One Down, Two to Go…” Without a warning, Spike is interrupted by the rap beats of Cypress Hill… “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!” Instead of his pyrotechnics going off, he walks down the stage with a purpose. A microphone in one hand and still dresses in the street clothes he entered the arena in, Mak charges around the ring and up the steel steps into the ring. ”Uh oh…the man Spike beat for the Number One Contendership is out here and he looks mighty pissed off…” Mak enters the ring and immediately gets face-to-face with his former apprentice. “WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?” Mak questions as he pushes Spike back into the corner, “Damn it, after all I did for you? This is how you repay me? You little bitch!” “HEY HEY HEY!” Spike responds as he shoves his way out of the corner, “DON’T GET IN MY FACE BECAUSE YOU CAN’T BEAT ME!” “I CAN’T BEAT YOU?” shouts The Franchise, “You arrogant little punk! I oughta’ slap the taste out of your mouth, boy.” “Why don’t you do it then? Come on, Mak!” “Nah. Ya’see. This is how it is going to down. The truth to it all is this. YOU can’t beat ME,” Mak tells the young Hollywood Superstar as he pokes him in the chest with his finger, “Every time we step in the ring, you havta’ use some illegal tactics to get the so-called-win over me.” “I’m only using what you taught me, Mak.” “Yeah, that maybe true. But what also is true is that you AREN’T me and you will never BE me. You think you are hot shit, huh? Well, if so. Give me a rematch.” “Yeah right. Get out of MY ring, Mak. You don’t deserve a rematch!” “You know I should get a rematch. You went to the ropes every time I took you down in our match on Lockdown. You even had to use the ropes to beat me. Ya’ll ain’t nothing but a coward!” “Trying to get under my skin isn’t going to get you a rematch, Mak…” “You like to run your mouth about how I taught you this and taught you that. I didn’t teach you how to be a little bitch!” The crowd “Ooooooh’s” as Spike looks like he is about to lose his temper. Mak continues pushing him back, knowing that he has Spike down. “You want to prove to the world that you are ready for the main event? That you are ready for your shot at Toxxic? Beat me again…except this time, no rope breaks. We are going to go at it with Pure Wrestling Rules.” Spike looks nervous as the crowd cheers on The Franchise. Not knowing what to do, he looks for a way out…but Mak won’t let up. “Come on, Spike! Be a man for once in your life. Accept my challenge!” “ALL RIGHT! YOU WANT A REMATCH? YOU GOT IT!” Spike breaks down, as he seems more confused than confident. Mak simply grins and backs off as he brings the microphone up, “That’s all I wanted, baby. That’s all I wanted.” He drops the microphone and steps out of the ring, calmly walking up the ramp to the back. “Well…a rematch for the Number One Contendership has been signed! Spike Jenkins defending against Mak Francis in a Pure Rules Match for a shot at Toxxic less than a week after Spike defeated Francis for that shot!” “Do you realize what Mak just did? He just PLAYED Spike! Mind games, Pete! Mind games!” “That most certainly may be true…” “May be true? Pete, Mak just suckered Spike into a match where he only has three rope breaks. Spike used about three hundred rope breaks in their last match. He has Jenkins at a disadvantage and he knows it!” Mak continues up the ramp with a calm and cocky grin on his face…while Spike stands in the middle of the ring, looking at his former mentor…like a scared child…

The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation presents... SWF STORM, MARCH 25, 2005, LIVE FROM THE SPACE NEEDLE IN SEATTLE, WASHINGTON! (8:00 PM EST, 5:00 PM PST; check local listings) The SWF is not afraid of heights, and we're proving it with the most daring episode of SWF Storm yet -- live from inside the Space Needle in Seattle, Washington! Thousands of feet off the ground, inside the observation deck of the Space Needle, the SWF intends to tear the house down! Opening Promo: "Hollywood" Spike Jenkins, #1 Contender to the SWF World Heavyweight Championship MAIN EVENT NON-TITLE MATCH Toxxic (SWF World Heavyweight Champion) v. Wildchild -> Wildchild continues to impress those in the SWF, pulling off yet another high-profile victory in a Cruiserweight Rules match against Insane Luchadore on Smarkdown. We all know that Wildchild's heart has never been set on winning the SWF Heavyweight Championship, but with Scott Pretzler temporarily out of action and partner Johnny Dangerous pursuing the merged ICTV/USJL Championship, what's a jaunt with the current World champ gonna hurt? Moreover, despite Spike Jenkins' victory in the #1 Contendership match on Smarkdown, what could a Wildchild victory potentially lead to? Rules: This is Storm, fools. No rules. SWF BELT TOURNAMENT SEMIFINALS SWF INTERCONTINENTAL-TELEVISION CHAMPIONSHIP Landon "La Cucaracha" Maddix (SWF Intercontinental-Television Champion) v. Johnny Dangerous -> Dangerous/Maddix IV? Well, the masses weren't necessarily clamoring for it, but with Dangerous' victory over Manson on Smarkdown, it's what they're going to get. Maddix is going crazier by the second, Dangerous is winning matches left and right, and to be perfectly honest I don't know what the fuck's going to happen next, so let's throw these two guys in the ring and hope it's something good. Rules: None. SWF BELT TOURNAMENT SEMIFINALS SWF UNITED STATES-JUNIOR LEAGUE CHAMPIONSHIP Austin Sly (SWF United States-Junior League Champion) v. Jay Hawke -> Sly suffered a loss to relative newcomer Arch Griffon on Smarkdown, whereas either Todd Cortez or Jay Hawke advanced to face him in the semifinals of the SWF Belt Tournament. God knows that Sly has a lot to prove as the USJL championship, but this match will be his last chance to prove it. Rules: None. HOUSE RULES MATCH SPACE BASE BRAWL SWF HARDCORE CHAMPIONSHIP Insane Luchadore (SWF Hardcore Champion) v. Arch Griffon -> IL and Griffon both asked for this match, and who am I to turn them down? Griffon v. IL for the Hardcore championship, with an INTERESTING~ twist. Rules: The Space Base is the gift shop at the Space Needle. It will be packed with tourists and there will likely be many sharp replicas of the Space Needles. Griffon and IL will fight in this paradise until one of them is pinned, submits, or gets knocked out. OPENING MATCH Manson v. "The Tigris Express" Mohammed Koran -> Koran tied the battle but lost the war against Martin Hunt. Let's see if he can pick up a second win against the always-tough Manson, who's looking to get back in the picture somehow! Rules: None. Also Scheduled To Appear: Toxxic didn't get his wish to face Spike Jenkins on Storm -- in fact, Jenkins isn't even booked, but you know he'll have something to say about becoming the new #1 Contender! The man Jenkins vanquished, Mak Francis, will also be there, and you know he'll have something to say about how Smarkdown went down! Also, Cruiserweight champion Scott Pretzler is still on his wrestling hiatus, but he's bound to make an appearance somewhere.

Just got Burnout 3 for X-Box, and since the soundtrack they provide is garbage, I figured I'd make my own. The problem is, a lot of the songs I want to use are really quiet. Some of them are just bad copies, so I can get better ones, but even so, there's a big volume difference between some of them - Song 2 is a lot quieter than Jerk It Out, for example. Whenever Song 2 comes on, I have to turn the sound effects down to hear it, and whenever Jerk It Out comes on, I have to turn the sound effects back up to hear them. So, does anyone know of some crazy computer program that can make the "natural" volume (for lack of a better term) of an MP3 louder?

Hardcore + Space Needle = too awesome, Mike. Swell card.

The big two-one! Happy birthday, Judge!

Anyone up for a little chit-chat?

Aw man... there goes my 600+ day ICTV reign. *edits it into the record books anyway*

A time machine, you say? You should totally run with that backstory. The possibilities are endless.

If there's one thing I love more than good jokes, it's bad jokes. Toxxic, your opening killed me. Tonight was a helluva night for advancing storylines. Toxxic's opener (uber-intense, once you get past the cow jokes), Mak Attack, the Maddix/Flesher confrontation, and a healthy dose taking place in the matches - everyone did a fine job. Good show. As for the Pillmanizing snafu... ... Sean = Silent's Long Lost Twin Brother?! *soap opera organs* Find out next week, on As The Squared Circle Turns!

I just recently got an Insider account (got tired of leeching off of Strangler's), so if there's any part of the old IGN archiving project we never finished, I'd be glad to pick it up. I'll condense my part of the project and send it to you ASAP, Mike.

Man... how do you follow a match like Calvinball II? -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation presents... SWF LOCKDOWN, March 16, 2005, LIVE FROM THE COW PALACE IN SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIAAAA! (8:00 PM EST; 5:00 PM PST. Check local listings.) Yes, you read that correctly. The Cow Palace. I'm not entirely convinced such a place even exists, but as long as it's on our list of arenas, it's fair game. Bonus points will be awarded to all matches that make bad cow-related jokes and puns. Make these markers suffer. Send everything (booking requests, promos, leftover meatloaf sandwiches, etc.) to Ace309. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- THE MAIN EVENT Non-Title Match "Urban Legend" Todd Cortez vs. "The Critic" Scott Pretzler © Todd Cortez and Scott Pretzler just competed in one of the most brutal, violent, downright evil matches in the history of mankind... So it only makes sense that we not give them any time to rest before shoving them right back in the spotlight! Tonight, the seconds-in-command of Martial Law and Revolution Zero will represent in the Main Event! (rhyme intended) Cortez lost his Hardcore Title to one of the most bizarre technicalities the sport has ever seen - because Scott Pretzler reversed Insane Luchadore's decree to drink four bottles of Jack Daniels, he is responsible for IL's winning the Hardcore Title! Cortez will get his rematch, but tonight, it's all about exacting some sweet revenge. Rules: Standard singles match. Word Limit: 6000 Send to: Ace309 ---- Non Title Tag Team Match Wild and Dangerous © vs. Jay Hawke and Austin Sly © Wild and Dangerous live on! Recent history has been somewhat rocky, to say the least, but they're still together, and they're still the Tag Team Champions! Jay Hawke, on the other hand, has not been so lucky. His first chance at SWF gold was thwarted, both by a partner who wasn't exactly on his side and by Johnny Dangerous's dramatic return. Tonight, he gets paired with newly crowned USJL Champion Austin Sly, for another crack at the dynamic duo. Rules: Tag Team rules. Word Limit: 5500 Send to: Chuck Woolery ---- Triple Threat Match Alan Clark vs. Sean Davis vs. Hollywood Spike Jenkins Martial Law has lost a little steam in recent weeks, thanks to Revolution 0, and now members of both factions are ready to go at it with the wild card Spike Jenkins thrown in for good measure! Will Clark be able to help mend his stable's wounded pride? Will Sean Davis put Revolution 0 that much closer to total domination? Or will Spike Jenkins deny them both, and use them as stepping stones on his way to something bigger? Rules: Like a singles match, plus one! Word Limit: 5000 Send to: chirs3 ---- OPENING BOUT Arch Griffon vs. Mohammed Koran Mohammed Koran won his debut match last week, which means he has won the job of "Welcoming Commitee" for our next new wrassler. Enter Arch Griffon, a mountain of a man with mad computer skillz to boot. Will Koran go 2-0, or will Archie stop his winning streak before it ever starts? Rules: Standard singles match. Word Limit: 3500 Send to: Justice ---- Opening Promo: Called! By who, you ask? That's for me to know and you to find out! Well, also for Tom to know, I guess. Since he's posting the show and all. And probably the guy who called it knows too. And anyone he might have told. And anyone with ESP. ---- First person to point out a problem with the card gets a sock full of quarters on a pole match against Cardboard Comet next week. I'm looking at you, Wildchild. :P -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-