Chuck Woolery

First time I ever get two competitive matches and I'm too inebriated to mark. Sly/Dangerous and the other match will be in by 3 pm EST tomorrow afternoon. Promise.

Already taken care of, champ. And since Munich is inquiring; Thoth is out of the picture and Crowe was the first person I found who I thought would be capable of posting the show and a card tonight. You can already see that Judge is going to be out of it; I know I'm going to be out of it; and it would be unfair to put Lockdown and Smarkdown on Tom's hands.

Line-editing wins championships, Landon. Ask Edwin.

So yeah, it's officially been one pay-per-view cycle since the Van Siclen administration (myself, Tom, and Thoth) officially was put into the CC position, and I'd like to think that thus far we've done a pretty good job. Card quality has stayed the same, and we've taken these months to try and implement at least one new idea... and even though it faltered, we're still hoping to find ways to improve the overall atmosphere of the SWF. And as such.. The State of the SWF i. Participation I think that thus far, participation has remained about the same, perhaps a little bit lower. November and December have a history of being very rough, but we managed to escape those months with almost no double no-shows and a lower rate of no-shows than in past years. We didn't cancel any shows either, which shows that we still have enough people around to book cards, always a good thing in my book. January and February have historically brought people back to the fed, and with Mak Francis' return, it looks as though that trend won't change. However, there are areas that are still lacking. One of them in particular is the chat room. The chat thread has seen a surprising amount of activity the last couple of weeks, but as someone who's been in and out of chat, the only people who are ever around are retirees and people like Toxxic. A healthy chat room usually leads to a strong community atmosphere, more comments on matches, etc., and it serves as a great place to talk about angles that you may want to do. In short, it's a way for people to talk about the fed, and overall lends to a healthier community atmosphere. I would like to see some of the newer guys (Maddix, King and Cortez in particular) in chat, as well as anyone else who doesn't frequent the room. It really is a good time, and there's usually someone to talk to. Another big issue is a lack of competitive matches. As sad as it may seem, I had two competitive matches over the last cycle. That's two out of six or seven, and that's an awful ratio no matter how you look at it. I'm willing to attribute part of that to the end-of-the-year bug that bites all of us, but part of it could (and should) be avoided. I don't want to get too hostile here, but a lot of people have fallen into a trap where they feel it's better to no-show than write a thousand-word match. If the opponent writes, he's going to win, and the loser as a general rule will claim that it's not a legitimate victory, in the process devaluing the work that the winning writer put into the match. And then if the opponent no-shows, then there's a glaring hole in the show that could've been avoided if someone had bitten the bullet and written a 1000 word rushjob instead of trying to save their pride by no-showing. It's a losing situation all the way around. My point is this: It is better for the fed as a whole for you, as a writer, to write a 1000-word rushjob than just no-showing. ii. Angles There's a lack of good angles these days that's frightening. I actually think this is looking up, as the impending angles involving Revolution Zero and Martial Law all look very good, but before this CC had to hold people's hands and guide them into a PPV match. Why was Edwin/Raynor the best match in SWF history? Because it was a well-written 12000 word affair with backstory. It didn't have a title on the line, but it had a storyline, and that's a big part of where we've been lacking recently. I will give credit to Toxxic for trying to do stuff like this, and it's good to see members of the fed respond as they have, but there needs to be more angles across the board. Lower-card guys should be dying to put together an angle, because CC does take notice, and we will reward people who write good angles. At the beginning of this year, Va'aiga pushed himself to the top of the card almost solely on his angle-writing ability. As the head of CC, I'll tell you right now -- anybody in the fed right now can do that. iii. Recruiting We need to get a website up and stat. This is mainly directed at Johnny, but I'm putting it in here so that the rest of you guys can browbeat him into doing it when he gets a chance. If we can get a website up soon, it'll go a long way into giving us a stable base where we can recruit new people. Right now there's nowhere for us to point banner ads to, which takes away just about any outside advertising we could get. Any posting you guys could do on boards you might frequent would be amazingly helpful, but we need somewhere for you guys to link back to... Johnny, man, this one's all on you. iv. Changes Alas, this year also ushered out two of the most influential people in the fed's history. "Grand Slam" Mark Stevens and the Suicide King, both incredible writers in their own rights, have parted company, and I know that after all the great things they're contributed to our fed they're going to be sorely missed. As a result of their leaving, we've decided to change up the commentary team a bit. The new announcers will be Longdogger Pete (face, play-by-play) and the Suicide King (heel, color). King's been around the fed forever, and if you saw his angle with Landon, you'll get a good idea of his character. Pete is a serious face, knows his shit about wrestling, and says "bid'ness" instead of "business". As for Mark... well, there's not much we could do for him, as my idea of renaming the fed the "Slam Wrestling Federation" was shot down pretty quickly. So we'll just thank him, and King, and everyone else who left this year, for their years of dedication to the fed. You'll all be missed. v. Future Honestly, for all the trouble we've had this year (the ever-changing main event picture, the seven- and eight-man rosters we've booked with), we've hit the end of the year on a high note. Slay Ride was an excellent show that should build a lot of momentum for the new year. Toxxic was an excellent champion, and Landon should be just as good in that role. There's several undercarders stepping it up lately as well; Sean Davis, Todd Cortez, and Max King in particular have done well. Add in the returns of Wildchild, Johnny Dangerous, and apparently Mak Francis, and the new year is shaping up to be incredible. However, there's still some work to be done. As I've said, a website needs to go up soon. After this happens we'll have a stable base to draw new people from, because in all honesty, we've pretty much sucked TSM dry as far as match writers go. You guys are all incredible, but new blood would be incredibly helpful, and while we're appreciative of The Smart Marks for hosting us for so long, a change might be in order. I know I've tried to be fair in everything I've done, and I know that Tom and Thoth can say the same. Also, I'd like to give props to the new markers; Dace and Judge have stepped in magnificently, and Supes has been clutch when it comes to second opinions. Finally, props to Chris Raynor and TNT, who've been on CC for damn near forever and still do all they can to mark for us. As always, we're open to comments and criticisms of the job we've done so far. Thank you for reading. Mike Van Siclen

Tonight, it's time for that storied tradition... The SWF Helps Mike Write A Paper! Tonight's topic: A children's book on the family structure. Come on down, it's going to be a rockin' good time!

Johnny: You say it was explained earlier, knucklehead.

Everything that people are PMing me and inquiring about will be explained in the opening promo. If you're not PMing me and inquiring, this message never happened.

The HSBC Arena is buzzing with excitement after a nightlong of pure, unadulterated wrestling, and as the show returns from its final commercial break, that energy starts to intensify. The fans know that the best is always saved for last in Buffalo, New York, and tonight, that sentiment will go unaltered! “Welcome back to Smarkdown, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to the main event!” bellows the voice of Longdogger Pete, as the cameras make a final sweep of the fans before returning to the announce table. “To close out tonight’s very special broadcast – a night of pure wrestling – we will see the Royal Order taking on the newly crowned Tag Team Champions, Wild and Dangerous!” “This match shouldn’t prove too difficult for the Royal Order,” says the Suicide King. “With firm rule enforcement in place for tonight, Wild and Dangerous don’t have a prayer – they’ve made their entire living off of breaking the rules!” “Double teams, King, double teams!” roars Pete. “There’s a difference between breaking the rules and getting the most out of the rules. Our Tag Champions are a respectable duo and they would never cheat!” Thankfully to the viewing audience around the globe; before the announcers can bicker any longer Meredith Brook’s “Bitch” begins playing, bringing forth the luscious Kelly Connelly and looking very much like she had been poured into her evening gown. Nonetheless, sexy as she may be, the crowd rains down on her hard with some massive jeers. “Here comes the Queen,” proclaims King, as Kelly steps into the ring and grabs the microphone away from Funyon. She waits until the booing fades out then finally lifts the microphone to her sweet lips. “Introducing first,” she says, as the lights dim down then… BOOOM!! Saliva’s “Superstar” starts to pound from the speakers when two rockets explode overhead! The crowd, already booing when the theme song hits, gets even uglier when Max King and Dominic Korgath strut out from backstage and begins their walk towards the ring. “At a total combined weight of six hundred pounds,” Kelly continues. “They are the most dominating tag team to ever grace this federation, and the sexiest to boot! The monstrous, colossal, Demonic Knight in the flesh… DOOOOMINIIIIIC KORGAAAAAAAAATH!” The Gaijin hoists his massive arms above his head as his name is announced, growling ferociously to more booing. “The thriller, the heart throb, the one and only, the TRUE Superior One… ‘THE ICON’ MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAX KIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!!!!” Like his partner before him, Max King raises his arm out when his name is called. He then steps to the middle of the ring to stand next to Korgath with Kelly in the middle of them as they triumphantly raise all there arms up. “Together they form the ROOOYAAAAAAAAAAL ORDEEEEER!!!” BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! “What an entrance,” marvels King. “I tell you these guys certainly know how to put on a show.” Kelly flips the microphone back to Funyon before leading her men to the outside of the ring for some last minute strategy. “And their opponents in the following non-title match scheduled for one fall,” bellows Funyon, just before the lights drop back out and “Fuel my Fire” starts to pound from the speakers, brining the sold out crowd to their feet with a massive cheer! “RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!” “Here they are!” declares Pete, before a sudden BOOM of a pyrotechnic explosion erupts when Wildchild and Johnny Dangerous bursts out onto the stage! Cheers ring out even louder to meet the two men who excitedly pump their fist out high into the air in reply. “And will you just listen to this crowd—they’re coming alive for the Tag Team Champions in Buffalo tonight!” Indeed, the crowd is decisively in Wild and Dangerous corner tonight. The duo raises their arms out to the fans, letting everyone get a good glimpse of the gold belts around their waistlines before racing down to the ring and slapping every outstretched hand on the way! “At a total combined weight of four hundred thirty-one pounds,” continues Funyon. “They are the REIGNING SMARTMARK WRESTLING FEDERATION WORLD TAG TEAM CHAMPIOOOOOOONS… WILDCHILD AND JOHNNY ‘THE BARRACUDA’ DANGEROUS, they are… WILD! AAAAAAAAAND DAAAANGEROUS!!!” Wild and Dangerous hand off their title belts to Eddie Long for safekeeping as the belts are not on the line tonight, before submitting themselves to a standard weapons check. “Wild and Dangerous reached a record high last week when they became the first three time Tag Team Champions in the history of the SWF,” Pete notes. “It’s going to take a lot for anybody to stop them right now after having that kind of momentum in their corner.” “If anyone can get the job done it’s these boys right here,” replies King. “Wild and Dangerous upset them at Slay Ride so they’re itching for some payback – tag titles or not!” DING DING DING!!! “There’s the bell,” says Pete, “and it looks like Wildchild and Dominic Korgath are going to start this one out – a classic David and Goliath situation.” “Just like the Orange Bowl,” adds King, “where Goliath not only won but totally dominated from start to finish!” “I think you just cost us all the Oklahoma viewers with that comment, King. If the ratings for this main event tank it’s your fault not mine!” Wildchild starts to circle his opponent, looking for any opening as the big Gaijin just watches, snickering at the sight of this little man looking towards a lockup then quickly rumbles across the ring and swings for the Bahama Bomber… WHACK! … But the Bahama Bomber blocks the tree trunk-like arm with his left forearm, and stuns him with right hand of his own, right in the nose! The sudden, unexpected impact sends Korgath staggering backwards a few steps, and he responds by charging headlong into the corner… CRACK! … Only for the Human Hurricane to surprise him yet again, raising both legs to jam his feet into the Big Demon’s face! “But look at Wildchild fight back here,” shouts Pete. “Such spirit inside that man!” Seeing Korgath off-balance, Wildchild unexpectedly wheels around… WHAM! … And pops Max King in the face with a right hand! The Icon leans back on the apron, just able to use the top rope to keep from falling off, and Wildchild turns his attention back to Korgath… SMACK! … Blasting the Gaijin in the face with a back elbow that sends him reeling! “Wildchild is holding his own against both Max King and Dominic Korgath,” shouts Pete, as the Tropical Tumbler leaps back towards his opponents’ corner and busts King in the face with a leaping forearm smash! “Illegally at that,” notes King, which is also taken into account by the referee. He warns Wildchild for the tactics, which end up giving Korgath time to breathe and as the Bahaman goes back to the Demonic Knight… Korgath surprises Wildchild with a kneelift to the midsection! “So much for fighting back,” King laughs. Korgath backs Wildchild against the edge of the ring and then grabs him by the wrist, whipping him across the ring. Before reaching the edge of the ring, however, the Caribbean Cruiser dives forward, planting his hands on the canvas and relaxing his body as it bounces against the ropes. Korgath lunges forward to deliver a clothesline, in anticipation of a handspring elbow. But, as Wildchild plants his feet on the mat… WHOOSH! … Instead of diving backwards into a handspring elbow, the Human Hurricane springs high into the air, sailing over Korgath with a graceful backflip! “Shades of Essa Rios,” exclaims Pete, as Korgath stumbles forward towards the edge of the ring. Wildchild dives forward feet-first as Korgath bounces off the ropes, nailing him in the shins with a dropkick that puts him on the canvas. The Tropical Tumbler immediately gets to his feet and races towards the ropes before the Big Demon can recover, leaping into the air as he explodes off the ropes, and snaring Korgath’s head in his nimble hands as he sails overhead… WHAM! … Before driving the Gaijin’s face into the mat with a flipping neck snap! “Flashback,” shrieks Pete, as Wildchild rolls to his feet. “The Bahaman is chopping the big man down with his rapid-fire offense!” Wildchild races away from Korgath towards the edge of the ring, leaping into the air as he rebounds and extending his feet forward, blasting the Gaijin in the face with a front dropkick that causes him to rise in alarm! “He stood him up,” shouts Pete, as Wildchild nips up to his feet. “Now THAT’S a dropkick! Wildchild presses his advantage, pushing Korgath against the ropes. He reaches out to tag his partner and then immediately grabs Korgath by the wrist and whips him across the ring, only for the Big Demon to easily reverse it. Wildchild leaps into the air, extending his body as he bounces off the ropes to deliver a cross-body block, but Korgath effortlessly snatches him out of the air. WHACK! … But Johnny runs in front of Korgath and leaps into the air, dropkicking his partner in the back in order to force the big Gaijin onto his back! Wildchild scrambles to his feet as Johnny runs towards the ropes, and locks his arm underneath that of his partner as the Barracuda rebounds towards the ring, popping his hip as he lifts Johnny overhead… SPLASH! … And hip-tossing him into Korgath’s exposed chest! Wildchild slides surreptitiously out of the ring as Johnny rolls onto his stomach to apply a cover. Referee Eddie Long appears to be reluctant to count, but finally drops down to slap his hand upon the mat: ONE! TW— KICKOUT! “Kickout at one,” notes Pete, “but Long seemed reluctant to deliver the count there.” “As well he should be,” growls King in response. “That was clearly the result of some of the most blatant double-teaming I’ve ever seen; the referee should never have counted in the first place!” Johnny pulls the Big Demon to his feet, but quickly cranks his arm into a wringer, and then reaches out to tag his partner back in. Wildchild leaps deftly to the top turnbuckle, and immediately dives into the ring, jamming his forearm into Korgath’s elbow and hyper extending the joint, courtesy of a flying axe-handle chop. Without allowing the big Gaijin any respite, Wildchild winds him up with a double arm-wringer, before tagging his partner back in. “As you can see, King,” remarks Pete, as the Champions continue to tag in and out on Korgath’s arm, “Wild and Dangerous are wisely isolating Dominic Korgath and using their experience as a tag team to get the edge on the Royal Order. And now the pace has really picked up - Wild and Dangerous going to work on Korgath’s arm with precision double-teaming!” After another two arm-wringers, Korgath’s arm is so twisted up that he somersaults forward just to try and alleviate the pressure. Wildchild stretches towards his corner and tags Johnny back in, and this time, the Barracuda dives off of the middle turnbuckle, his knees crashing into Korgath’s exposed elbow! “I can’t believe that you can cheer for such an underhanded tag team,” scolds King. “These guys are probably guilty of breaking every rule in the book, but you give them a free pass just because they go to the top rope!” Wildchild scrambles to his feet and rushes towards his opponents’ corner, catching Max King by surprise with a running punch! SMACK! “And a cheap shot,” roars King. “When will it stop?” As the Icon storms into the ring, referee Long rushes over to force him out, giving Wildchild the moment he was hoping for. The Tropical Tumbler streaks across the ring, leaping into the air as he bounces off the ropes… WHAM! … And further hyper extending Korgath’s knee with a flying splash! Long finally turns around just as Wildchild exits the ring, and in time to see Johnny cover Korgath: ONE! TWO! THR— NO! “For crying out loud,” bellows King, as Johnny pulls Korgath to his feet, “when will it stop? How is it that these two are allowed to get away with so much illegal double-teaming?” “King, what’s your angle, anyway,” asks Pete, as Johnny whips Korgath into the ropes, only to be reversed. “Since when are you a champion for better officiating? I mean, are you auditioning for a guest referee slot, or something?” Johnny easily ducks a clothesline attempt by Korgath, using his sore left arm… WHAM! … But he didn’t avoid the secondary clothesline attempt by the big Gaijin, using his good arm! “Oh my,” gasps Pete, as Korgath heads towards his corner, gripping his sore left arm in pain. “What a vicious clothesline!” “Hell yes it was,” King says gleefully. “The Jacksonville Jaguars should be looking at him to replace Donovan Darius right about now!” Korgath stumbles into his corner and tags in Max King. Max thunders into the ring as Johnny gets to his feet… and leaps into the air at the Agent… WHAM! … Blasting him in the face with a flying forearm! King rolls to his feet gracefully and gives the crowd a most muscular pose, to the delight of Kelly… and the dismay of everyone else: BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! “What the hell is wrong with these people,” snaps King. “Why can’t they properly appreciate a naturally gifted athlete like Max King?” King pulls Johnny to his feet and grabs him by the wrist, whipping him across the ring… WHAM! … Leaping into the air as Dangerous bounces off the ropes and grounding him again with a flying roundhouse! The Icon pulls Johnny to his feet and stands behind him, before lifting a knee into his back! Before Johnny can recover… CRACK! … The nimble King swings his leg through the air, drilling Dangerous in the back of the head with a flashy kick! “More amazing agility by the Icon,” marvels King, as Max gives the crowd a double biceps pose. “Eat your heart out, Wildchild; you only WISH you could look that good flying through the air!” King drags Johnny over to his corner and makes the tag to Korgath. He steps in from the apron and rumbles across the ring as Max holds Johnny in place against the ropes. The Barracuda struggles against King as he sees Korgath heading back towards him… CRUSH! … But can’t get out of the way in time to avoid the Gaijin, who leaps into his chest, crushing him against the ropes with a big splash! Korgath pulls Johnny to his feet and draws his right fist back to deliver a big bomb, but the Barracuda ducks underneath his massive arm, quickly coming around the other side and punches the big Gaijin near the shoulder of his sore left arm, causing him to roar out in pain! “Looks like that earlier arm work is coming back to pay off for the Barracuda,” says Pete, as the Barracuda races towards the ropes, leaping into the air as he bounces back towards the ring… POW! … And flying full-bore into Korgath’s left arm with a flying shoulder tackle! The Big Demon howls angrily as Johnny runs back towards the edge of the ring, and explodes into the air as he rebounds, blasting Korgath with another shoulder tackle into his left arm. The pain nearly forces Korgath down to one knee, and Johnny raises his arm to motivate the crowd as he prepares to run into the ropes one more time, but as he approaches the edge of the ring, Max King steps towards the middle of the apron… CRACK! … And catches Johnny in the back with a knee to the back as he hits the ropes! “How come you don’t have anything to say about that illegal activity by Max King,” asks Pete, as Johnny turns around to confront the Icon. “Huh?” King looks at his announcing partner in mock innocence. “I… uh… I was busy looking at Kelly Connelly… yeah… look at the gams on her!” Pete rolls his eyes again while Johnny turns his attention back towards his opponent in the ring… WHAM! … But he gave Korgath too much time to recover, and the Big Demon levels him with a big boot that sends Johnny flipping through the air! Korgath stumbles back over to his corner and tags the Icon back in. “Here we go,” crows King, as the Icon runs to the opposite corner and scales to the top rope. “Max King’s going for that big elbow! If he hits this, it’s all over!” The Icon looks out to the crowd haughtily from his lofty perch before springing off of it into the ring… CRASH! … But his elbow only meets canvas and plywood, as the Barracuda gets out of the way at the last minute! The crowd erupts as Johnny turns in the direction of his corner and begins to crawl to safety. “He missed,” shouts Pete. “The Icon missed! And now, Max King is going to have to recover from the shock of missing that elbow if he and Dominic Korgath want to maintain their advantage over Johnny Dangerous!” Just as Johnny seems about to reach his corner, the Icon latches onto his left ankle and begins to pull him away from his corner! “So much for tagging out,” laughs King, as the Icon stands back up, still holding onto Johnny’s ankle, pulling the Barracuda to his feet as well. “Looks like Johnny IS in for some more punishment!” CRACK! “Or maybe not,” screams Pete, as Johnny catches the Icon off-guard with a momentum-busting enzugiri. “Dangerous with an enzugiri that may have just turned the tide!” With Max King on the mat holding his head in pain, Johnny crawls unimpeded back towards his corner and reaches up… SWAT! … Making the tag to Wildchild! The Bahama Bomber leaps into the ring, running past the ground-bound Icon and into his opponent’s corner, springing into the air before Korgath realizes what’s happening and smashing him in the face with a flying forearm that knocks him off of the apron! Wildchild turns his attention back towards his opponent in the ring as the Icon begins to get to his feet and runs to the ropes, leaping into the air and twisting his body around before popping King in the mouth with a rolling back elbow smash that knocks the larger man down! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! The fans chant Wildchild’s initials as he pulls Max King to his feet, grabbing him by the wrist and whipping him towards the edge of the ring, but the Icon reverses easily, sending Wildchild into the ropes instead. The Human Hurricane leaps onto the top rope and springs back into the ring, latching his legs around King’s neck and arching his back as he spins around, taking the Icon over with a sensational satellite hurricanrana! “What an amazing maneuver by the Wildchild,” exclaims Pete. “He has definitely picked up the pace of this match!” Wildchild pulls King away from the edge of the ring and applies a lateral press as Long drops down to make the count: ONE! TWO! THRE— CRACK! “Korgath comes in to make the save for his team,” says Pete. “But it may have backfired on him!” As Long orders Korgath to return to his corner, Wildchild motions for Johnny to return to the ring. The Barracuda and the Bahama Bomber each grab one of King’s wrists and whip him into the ropes, leaping into the air as he rebounds… WHAM! … And blasting him in the face with a double dropkick that sends him flying backwards, over the top rope and out of the ring! “Unfortunately, you were right, Pete,” spits King. “Korgath should have known better than to expect Wild and Dangerous to honor the rules of the match; everybody in the building knew that they were going to cheat when the referee’s back was turned!” Johnny steps back onto the apron before Eddie Long turns around, and the oblivious referee only sees Wildchild standing in the ring, with Max King lying on the arena floor! Nonplussed, he walks over to the edge of the ring and begins to deliver his count: ONE! TWO! THREE! “If Wild and Dangerous are smart,” says Pete, “they’ll let King stay out on the floor and see if they can win on a count-out!” “Well,” adds King, “they might as well try to get a cheap victory; it would fit right in with all of the cheap shots and cheap wrestling they’ve been doing tonight!” As Long continues to count, Wildchild decides that he’s tired of waiting, and decides to take matters into his own hands: FIVE! SIX! And, just at that moment, the Caribbean Cruiser races to the corner, leaping onto the second turnbuckle and springing over the top rope… and out to the arena floor! CRASH! … Smashing his skull into Max King’s with a springboard Suicide Headbutt! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! “BAH GAWD!” screams Pete, as both Wildchild and King clutch their faces in pain. “That was insane! Wildchild just leapt from the second turnbuckle to the arena floor, and nailed Max King with a suicide headbutt!” “This guy is suicidal,” snaps King. “He’s going to kill himself in the ring one of these days… or even worse, he’s going to kill somebody else!” The befuddled referee has little choice but to start his count over at the beginning: ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! At the count of four, Wildchild crawls over to the apron and drags himself to his feet. He gives a quick sign to Johnny and the Barracuda drops down to the arena floor as Wildchild rolls back into the ring. “What’s Johnny doing down on the arena floor,” asks Comet, as the referee’s count gets up to six. “Something underhanded, no doubt,” barks King, as Wildchild rushes towards his opponents’ corner and belts Korgath with another forearm that knocks him off the apron. “Look at that… Wildchild with yet another cheap shot on Korgath – he’s just minding his own business!” “Well, I think that Wildchild is just trying to get Korgath’s attention,” reasons Pete, as Johnny leans Max King up against the ring barricade, holding his legs up from behind. “I’m not sure I’d WANT that guy’s attention,” replies King. “I’d have left him daydreaming!” Wildchild runs back across the ring, leaping high into the air as he nears the ropes, and vaulting OVER the top of the unsuspecting referee, still in the midst of his count, and out to the floor! SEVEN… WHAM! Wildchild leapfrogs over Long’s head and out of the ring, down to the arena floor, and onto the outstretched back of Max King, crushing him with an ultra-deadly version of their patented Slam Dance! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! “BAW GAWD!,” exclaims Pete, as the startled referee stops his count yet again. “That was like a Super Slam Dance! They did that same thing to Max at Slay Ride!” “Wild and Dangerous should be suspended for a move like that,” roars King, rising from his seat in anger. “That can end a man’s livelihood! They could have killed Max King with that move!” Kelly runs around the ring to tend to her man, but before she gets there, Wild and Dangerous roll the Icon back into the ring. The Caribbean Cruiser slides back into the ring and raises both his arms, giving the sign for the Dangerous Drop, which causes the twenty thousand fans in attendance to rise from their seats in anticipation! “This is an atrocity,” bellows King, as Pete coaxes him back down into his seat. “I cannot BELIEVE that the referee is going to let them get away with this… HE should be fined and suspended, too, just for being such a shitty referee! Why if I was still Commissioner…” “Korgath and King have bigger problems to worry about,” shouts Pete, as Wildchild makes the tag to Johnny, who holds the tag rope in plain view to make it legal. “It looks like Wild and Dangerous are setting up for the Dangerous Drop!” “Well,” says King, “I hate to say this, but if they hit it, it’ll be tough luck for King… especially after the referee has allowed them to get away with all kinds of illegal double-teaming!” Johnny hoists the Icon up on his shoulders as Wildchild exits to the apron. As he climbs onto the top turnbuckle, Kelly Connelly leaps onto the apron herself, screaming frantically to get the referee’s attention. Momentarily distracted, Wildchild turns his head towards the source of the disturbance, which gives Korgath enough time to sneak behind Wildchild and push him off of the turnbuckle! The Bahama Bomber falls off the turnbuckle and down to the floor… CRACK! “OOOOOOOH!!” … Smacking his head on the ring barricade! With Eddie Long still distracted by Kelly Connelly, Korgath stealthily enters the ring. Johnny, knowing that he should have heard his partner’s signal by now, begins to turn around--Max King still perched on his shoulders--to find out what the holdup was… KA-RACK! … And turns right into a jaw shattering Yakuza Kick from the Big Demon! Johnny collapses to the canvas, dropping King on the mat close to his corner, and Kelly continues to distract the referee long enough for Korgath to drag his limp body all the way over, allowing Long to turn his attention back to the ring just in time to see Korgath reach over the top rope and grab the Icon’s hand to make a forced tag while holding the tag rope in the other. “That was brilliant tactics on the part of Kelly Connelly,” says King, as the referee acknowledges the tag. “That just goes to show you the value of a manager, Pete; even I have to concede that if not for Kelly’s quick thinking, this match would be over right now!” “Kelly Connelly coming through in the clutch for her team,” agrees Pete, as Korgath enters the ring, “and now it’s going to be Wild and Dangerous on the defensive. We’ll have to find out if they have the fortitude necessary to pull out a win here!” Johnny tries to get himself moving—rolling onto his stomach and trying as he might to push up off the mat while fighting back the stinging sensation, but Korgath isn’t about to give the Barracuda any time to gather himself or room to move for that matter. He rushes in, leaps up… and drops an elbow right into the back of Johnny’s neck, knocking him back into the canvas face-first and keeping! Dangerous stops moving after the first shot, save for moving his hand to cover the back of his neck as he moans in pain, but Korgath gets back up to his feet, sticks his elbow way out, and drops it back into Johnny’s neck once more… WHACK! … then rolls the Barracuda over for a cover. As expected, Long drops to count for: ONE! TWO!! TH-NOO!!! Dangerous thrusts his shoulder off the mat and begins to push up to his knees when Korgath reaches down and grabs a lock full of Johnny’s jet-black mane with his good arm, painfully jerking the Barracuda to his feet then clubs his fist into the small of Johnny’s back, flattening the Barracuda BACK against the mat! Again, the Big Demon grabs a handful of hair and pulls the Secret Agent back up… then snaps on a quick side headlock. He looks out to the crowd and defiantly pumps his fist out to them, getting a raucous boo in response as expected. “Korgath was seemingly looking for some accolades from this crowd,” says Pete, “but he’s not getting ANY from the people here tonight!” It doesn’t bother him a bit though - he keeps his focus on his opponent and slams two sharp knees into Dangerous’ ribcage, subduing him even more before lifting him up in a vertical suplex and stalling… “Wow!” marvels King. “An impressive display of strength by Dominic Korgath!” “Oh please, King, it’s not like he’s lifting Janus there,” replies Longdogger Pete, just before Korgath finally drops back and slams the Barracuda back-first into the canvas! WHAM!! Dominic rolls into a cover… ONE!! TWO!!! THR-NOOOO!!! “Again the Barracuda gets the shoulder up,” notes Pete. “Though I didn’t detect much authority behind that one—he needs to tag out quickly!” “Yeah, but Wildchild is just now getting back up to the apron,” says King, pointing towards the corner post where the Bahama Bomber is leaning against, still looking quite groggy. “He might not be much help… if not worse.” Korgath slaps a quick arm wrench on Johnny and pulls him to his feet then leads the Barracuda into his corner, where Max King awaits. They tag and the Icon steps in as Korgath holds Johnny into position for him, perfect position to receive a kick to the midsection which is exactly what the Secret Agent gets! Johnny doubles over from the kick, holding his midsection until King grabs that same arm to whip the Barracuda across the ring. Johnny hits the ropes and rebounds towards the Icon as King looks for the clothesline, but Max misses! The crowd gasps in hope as Johnny goes sailing under the Icon’s arm and heads straight for the ropes behind him, looking to put the match back into his favor! WHOOSH! Max ducks under the attempted clothesline then quickly takes off for the ropes behind Johnny, hitting them and springing back towards his opponent, just as the barracuda finally spins around… CRACK! RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!! “WHOA!” Pete excitedly shouts along with most in attendance, when Johnny delivers a massive spinning heel kick to the side of Max King’s jaw! “Just when you thought the Barracuda had fumbled his opportunity away he makes a dazzling move to keep the match swinging his way!” The Icon is down on the mat, holding his head and rolling back and forth in pain when Johnny finally comes in to make the cover. Long drops to his knees, having seen no fowl play on this exchange, and counts for: ONE!!! TWO!!!! THR-NOOOOOO!!!!!!!! Max kicks out at the very last second and Long has to mash down on the breaks as hard as he can to stop a three count from coming out! The crowd lets out a collective sigh at the sight while Dominic wipes the sweat from his brow; that one was a little too close for comfort! “I think the Royal Order camp is thanking the heavens after THAT near fall,” says Pete. “Johnny almost had it won right there!” Johnny grabs the Icon and starts to pull him up to his feet while looking towards his corner. Wildchild motions to him for the tag and the Agent nods to him in response, but before he can lead Max to the Wild and Dangerous corner, Johnny finds himself on the wrong end of a roll up and Long quickly drops to count… ONE!!! And with the referee focusing on dishing out the count at hand, Max gets his feet onto the nearby ropes for some extra leverage as Johnny squirms to no avail to escape! TWO!!!!!! “Max King’s has his feet on the ropes!” cries Pete. “Stop the count, ref, stop the count!” THR- WHACK!!! RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!! The crowd joyously roars out when the Bahama Bomber blazes across the ring; seeing the Icon’s feet on the ropes he knows Long won’t catch it and BLAST Max King, right in the face, with a drop kick! “Son of a bitch!” cries King. “Wildchild’s illegally in the ring…AGAIN! He broke up what was sure to be the winning pin fall just because he didn’t want to look like a joke after losing to a roll up!” “He won’t have had to come in if Max King’s feet weren’t up on the ropes,” counters Pete. “Two wrongs don’t usually make a right, but in this case it does!” Seemingly ready to make a third wrong in this scenario, Korgath steps over the ropes and comes into the ring. Long is already busy trying to get Wildchild back in his place, but his job is about to get even tougher! He swivels his head around to bark at the Demonic Knight to get out and when he does, Wildchild darts right past the referee and makes a beeline for Korgath, jumping up and dropping both feet squarely into the chest of the Big Demon! Korgath staggers back into the ropes then goes toppling over the top when Johnny follows his partners lead with a drop kick to Korgath as well! “Damn those cheats!” cries King, as the Demon lands face-first into the outside floor. Followed by the Wildchild when the Bahaman bolts towards the edge of the ring, leaps up to the top rope and… WHAM! Slams into the Knight with a huge Plancha! “At least he’s out of the ring now,” is all King can muster up after the exciting round of events with the crowd cheering their hearts out! Those acrobats don’t look to slow down either as Johnny stands perched atop the turnbuckle as King staggers around the ring, reeling from the drop kick to his noggin! “Don’t turn around Max!” However, that’s exactly what the icon does. Only he quickly turns, pivoting on one foot before burning rubber across the ring and nailing Johnny in the gut with a quick jab before the Agent can leap off the top! “Oh no!” cringes Pete. “Johnny just placed himself in a risky position and now the Icon is in perfect position to take full advantage! This could be the deciding factor of the match right here!” Max climbs up to the top with Johnny, belting in a few more shots to keep the Barracuda subdued before grabbing him in preparation for a superplex! The crowd rises in despair; booing whole heartedly, but there vocalization doesn’t appear to be putting a block to Max’s game plan. It’s about high time he put Wild and Dangerous in their place! “Superb Plex!” King calls in anticipation, but just as he does Johnny slams his knuckles deep into the Icon’s ribcage! “NO! It’s isn’t over yet!” Max’s plan is temporarily halted as he is forced not by his will, but rather by reflex to grab his injured midsection and in doing so leaves himself open to get shoved off the top! WHAM! He hits the canvas hard and cries out in pain then a second later Johnny suddenly springs off the turnbuckle – back-flipping off for a Shooting Star Press and lands right on top of the Icon, squishing him like a bug! WHAAAAAAAM!!! RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!! “Shooting Johnny Press!” exclaims Pete. “It’s all over!” ONE!!! TWO!!!! THREE!!!!!! DING DING DING!!! RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!! “Fuel My Fire” begins to pump out from the speakers once more, making a victory lap around the arena. Wildchild slides back into the ring and happily embraces his partner, before they both raise their arms out in victory! “The winners of this match by pinfall,” Funyon bellows, “WILD!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAND DAAAANGEROUS!!!!!” “You see, King, Wild and Dangerous went came out here tonight and showed us what a seasoned team can do,” says Pete. “They relied on team work and off-the-cuff strategy to steal the victory here tonight.” “Steal is exactly right!” snaps King. “They cheated their way through this entire match and yet come out looking like angels—I don’t get it! This was to be a night of pure wrestling, but with this last match…it was anything BUT that!” “You can’t argue illegal pins leading to Wild and Dangerous’ victory this time. Johnny was legal and Wildchild wasn’t even in the ring!” “Still, an awful start to the pure wrestling Smarkdown’s,” says King, but he seems to be the only one miserable. The crowd is on their feet cheering from the exciting match and THAT is what matters… As we: FADE OUT.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOMBOOMBOOM! “Look! A black one!” The pyro goes off to open the show, and the Buffalo crowd goes wild as the first SWF Smarkdown of the year opens up! The fireworks end, and for a moment, the arena goes silent. The lights go down, and the silence continues. Uncomfortable silence. And suddenly, Jim Morrison’s voice booms over the PA. “When I was back there in seminary school… There was a person there who put forth the proposition that you can petition the Lord with prayer. Petition the Lord with prayer. Petition the Lord with prayer. YOU CANNOT PETITION THE LORD WITH PRAYER! BOOM! With that, an explosion of blue pyro lights up the HSBC Arena, and Led Zeppelin’s “Kashmir” begins to blare over the speakers! The crowd goes wild as… yes, Tom Flesher steps through the curtain! They cheer their hometown hero as he stops on the stage, pausing with a smirk and looking out across the arena. After a moment, he continues walking, wearing a look that carries equal parts of “I can’t believe I’m doing this” and “But who could do it any better?” Flesher steps into the ring, grabbing a microphone. As his theme fades out, he looks across the arena again, and the fans immediately begin chanting. “TAAMO! TAAMO!” Flesher smirks, nodding. This is usually the harbinger of a few minutes of start-and-stop talking, ending with irritation and shouting just to drown out the crowd. After a moment, though, Flesher simply raises a hand. The crowd quiets down, maybe too surprised to argue, and maybe – just maybe – showing a modicum of respect for a man who gave his all in the ring for two years and rode off into the sunset a quarter of a year before. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he says, “it’s good to be back in Buffalo.” Well, that was fast. In an instant, the crowd is cheering again. Tom, of course, doesn’t mind. After a moment, the audience calms down and Flesher is free to continue talking. “Ever since Genesis V,” he says, “I can’t shake the feeling that there’s been something… lacking in the SWF.” He pauses to adjust his collared shirt, then smooth out the blazer he wears over it and a pair of jeans. His Doc Marten boots are, oddly, absent. In their place he has a pair of highly-shined black wingtips. “The action on the SWF mats has just been missing a certain je ne sais quoi. I couldn’t pinpoint it for a long time. I spent a lot of time trying to figure out exactly what it was, and then it occurred to me.” He pauses, a smirk on his face as the crowd begins to cheer again. “No, no,” he says, shaking his head with a grin. “I know what you’re thinking, but I should absolve you of that as early as possible. There’s a reason,” he says, “why you don’t see those beat-up combat boots tonight. When I left them in the ring at Genesis, I meant it. I’m not going to tell you you’ll never see me in an SWF ring again – a man never says never – but I can promise you that if and when you do, it won’t be just because I got the itch to wrestle again. Maybe someday, when I have a score to settle, or if just the right guy wants to go one more round… but not tonight.” “No,” Flesher continues, “what’s been missing is that sense of what exactly it is that we’re supposed to do. I’m here for a reason tonight, and that is this: We’re the Smarks Wrestling Federation. There hasn’t been enough of that.” “For weeks, I watched the SWF at home. I came out and watched a few shows. And, yes, I hung out backstage a few times. What did I see? I saw matches where a shaved ape ‘won’ by throwing his opponents into subway cars in Penn Station. I saw matches booked (that thankfully never took place) where the Rockettes were supposed to figure into the outcome. I saw three men fighting in a church.” “In a church.” Tom shakes his head sadly. “So let me just say this. I’m here on Smarkdown – and yes, it’s just Smarkdown – for a reason. Why only Smarkdown? Well, for one, I have more important things to do. As some of you may know, this law school thing is hard… but that’s not the main one. The most important reason I’m focusing on Smarkdown is that on the whole, I’m not sure how much of a difference I can make… but one show every two weeks, where the wrestlers know coming in that they’re going to have to bring the content, they can show up, work the hardest they’ve worked for the three-show cycle, and for all I care phone it in collect on the other two shows. I don’t give a damn about Lockdown or Storm. They can be full of crap like Holy Hell matches or Ball Crawl Brawls. SWF fans know that once every two weeks, on Smarkdown, they can tune in and see wrestling. The referees know this. They’ll be watching everything closely, and you damn well better use the tag ropes.” “So,” Flesher says, “tonight you’re going to see some of the SWF’s top talents, and they damn well better impress me if they want to get rewarded on this show. One of my favorite competitors, Andrew Blackwell – Sacred – is going to take on Alan Clark in a pure wrestling match. You all remember that, don’t you? 20 count on the outside, three rope breaks… you forfeit a rope break if you use a closed fist or use the ropes to break a hold. Sacred’s a superior talent. Clark’s got a solid head on his shoulders. This one should be good, if only as a tuneup for Sacred and a chance for Clark to make waves.” Flesher pauses for a pop, then continues. “Spike Jenkins defended the Cruiserweight Championship at Slay Ride, and despite a misstep against Manson last week, I’m not going to make him defend the belt tonight. He will, however, see action tonight against the man he beat at Slay Ride, Kaine!” Pop. “Standard cruiserweight rules, gentlemen. You know them by now. Kaine, impress me.” “Manson won a title shot to be named later on Lockdown. Why make him wait? He’s taking on Sean Davis tonight, USJL Title on the line… and finally, for your Main Event, the NEW SWF World Tag Team Champions….” Flesher pauses for the fans to cheer, then continues, “Wild and Dangerous, are in action… but there’s no way I’m making them defend. They’ve got the Royal Order tonight, non-title, because frankly, the Order’s talented enough to take them to the limit but can’t buy a win. King, Korgath… impress me. You’ll be rewarded.” “One more match… Todd Cortez, you’re too good for this hardcore sh*t. Carnage, I know you’ve got some talent deep down… you’re a Russian, for God’s sake. Gentlemen, get out there and show some god-damn talent. You’re on next.” With that, “Kashmir” fires up, and Flesher turns and walks out of the ring in a businesslike fashion, leaving the card to be reviewed.

It's a beautiful world we live in… The sound of Zach de la Rocha’s voice echoes out through the pitch black HSBC Arena, as someone has apparently killed the house lights just before Smarkdown returned from it‘s commercial break. Our confused announcing team sits at ringside, trying to diagnose the problem. (Longdogger Pete) “We seem to be experiencing some brief technical problems here in Buffalo, as our lights just inexplicably went out.” (King) “How do you explain the music then, Doggah?” (Longdogger Pete) “I think it’s a cover of Devo’s ‘Beautiful World’.” (King) “I know that much! I just don’t know why it’s playing.” Our obviously clueless announcers continue their bickering while the song plays on. A sweet romantic place… Beautiful people everywhere… The way they show they care… makes me want to say… (King) “Actually… I’m getting word that this isn’t a glitch in the system, but was actually planned.” (Longdogger Pete) “Why am I not getting word of this also?” (King) “Because you touch yourself at night.” It's a beautiful world. Oh what a beautiful world… …For you… The lights in the arena flash on briefly as the words “for you” escape from Zach’s mouth, breathing an awkward feeling into the room and extracting a mixed reaction from the crowd on hand. As the lights flash back off, only a single spotlight remains lit, shining down upon the stage. (Longdogger Pete) “Ouch… someone sounds bitter. I wonder who that could be.” (King) “At any given time? I would say about half the roster.” It's a wonderful time to be here… It's nice to be alive. Wonderful people everywhere… …The way they comb their hair… (Longdogger Pete) “This is maniacal. Someone needs some serious help.” (King) “I don’t know. I kind of enjoy this little break in the action. As long as I don’t have to suffer through strobe lighting, I’d say I’m good.” …makes me want to say… …It's a wonderful place. Oh what a wonderful place. For you The spotlights inside the arena light up, spinning through the audience along with the last fleeting moments of the song. for you… …for you… …for you… …for you… (Longdogger Pete) “I’m getting dizzy.” (King) “At least they aren’t strobe lights.” For you… The lights in the arena disappear one last time, before returning quickly to a regular level… Not me! … to reveal Austin Sly standing at the top of the entrance ramp. This is a different Austin though. His body has gained in mass. His hair is now black, and grown out during the time he was off. His usually carefree attire has been replaced by a more professional looking all black wardrobe, only highlighted by the silver buckle on his belt. A trench coat shuffles behind him, as if propelled by some unknown wind whipping across the entrance stage. His face shows no signs of glee for his return, but instead is slightly twisted in a way to show his distain for the environment he has placed himself in. The fans at ringside aren’t too happy to welcome him back, remembering his brief tirade the last time he showed his face at an SWF event. (Longdogger Pete) “Austin Sly?” (King) “He’s back, and he doesn’t look too happy about it!” (Longdogger Pete) “This is what the one time aspiring musician has turned himself into? Something’s snapped inside of him, King.” (King) “I think I like it!” … … fade…

“And we’re joining this fast paced USJL Championship match in progress, King!!” greets LDP. The camera focuses on the ring, where Sean Davis has Manson trapped in the corner, absolutely destorying him with vicious right hand chops. The ref quickly moves in to ‘remind’ Davis that he needs to keep Manson out of the corner. The Perfect Storm wraps Manson in a headlock, then grabs a waist full of tights and hefts his opponent high over his head. A look of strain crosses Davis’s face, but he quickly shifts his power to a downward plunge as he slams Manson to the mat with a huge Falcon arrow! Davis drops a leg over Manson’s chest to act as a cover. ONE! TWO! Labored kickout by Manson! From ringside, Rashelle claps and calls encouragement to Davis, while Marcus Washington works a few hotties behind the barricade. Sean gets to his feet, bringing Manson up at the same time. The champ applies a headscissors, lugs Manson into the air and sets him up in a Canadian backbreaker. “This is it, LDP! Cyclone Driver for the one, two, three!!” Pete mentions, “Manson has done an excellent job of keeping Sean Davis on his toes, up until that devastating Full Nelson atomic drop. I swear Manson felt that all the way up his spine! Heck, even I did!” Davis drops to his knees, piledriving the living shit outta Manson. BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!! Davis rolls over and covers Manson again. ONE! TWO! THREE!!! DING DING DING!! “Your winner, and STILL USJL Champion …. SEEEEAANNN DAAAAVIS!!!” “F.E.” by 40 Below Summer kicks up and Davis stands, accepting his USJL title from the referee as Rashelle and Marcus join him in the ring, celebrating. “And a superb win for Revolution Zero tonight, if I do say so myself,” says King. LDP replies sardonically, “I’m sure the viewing audience would agree with you if they’d seen the first three quarters of the match. What a lousy producing job that was.”

“Well well well; if it isn’t the American arsehole who thinks so highly of himself.” ‘The Franchise’ Mak Francis looks around to find himself face-to-face with the familiar figure of Toxxic, staring at him through dark-lined eyes. Francis opens his mouth to retort, but Toxxic cuts him off. “I should have known something was up, the way you barged into my dressing room after Slay Ride,” the Straight-Edge Sensation continues. “Of course, I didn’t recognise you with the shades and the suit; wasn’t until Sacred called you that I realise exactly who it was who’d just been pissing me off. And now,” Toxxic continues, taking a swig from the can of Coke in his hand, “it seems you got a problem with Sacred.” “A problem?” Francis snorts. “Yeah, you could call it that. See, how would you feel if someone had prematurely retired you?” “Wouldn’t know,” Toxxic says thoughtfully, tilting his head to one side but keeping his gaze on the Franchise. “I’d have to ask the people I’ve prematurely retired. But I don’t think Mike’s on speaking terms with me. Or Nathan. Or that rookie guy, what was his name again…?” “Justin Bowers?” Francis supplies, and Toxxic’s face splits into his lopsided grin. “Well done; you have been paying attention, haven’t you?” Toxxic’s grin fades. “But about Sacred; what you’ve got to understand, sunshine, is that Sacred is a part of Revolution Zero, and if you got a problem with one of us then you got a problem with all of us.” “Oh, and what’re you going to do about it?” Mak asks, shifting position slightly. “You’re gonna try and take me out by yourself?” The smile on the Franchise’s face shows how likely he thinks that is, but Toxxic simply shakes his head. “Not at all. You’re this technical-amateur-wrestling-submission-whatsit-type guy, aren’t you? You could probably take me down, break a leg, dislocate a shoulder or something,” Toxxic waves his hand vaguely, “but anyway, that’s not my style. I don’t jump people backstage, I tend to sort them out in the ring. Now, I can see you’re smiling again,” he informs Francis, “but that’s OK. I don’t expect you to take me that seriously here, for all the fact I know you know I’ve done what you’ve never done and become the World Champion.” Toxxic’s grin returns as he sees the barb strike home; the early end to his previous SWF run clearly still rankles with Francis. “No, you see for some reason all those fancy-pants technical wrestlers tend to come unstuck against me,” Toxxic tells the Franchise. “I remember watching you in that Iron Man match against Danny Williams for the US Title and him giving you all those problems… and then I faced three-time World Champion Danny Williams, and I beat him in about 15 minutes. At which point Elbows buggered off to AJPW and hasn’t been heard of since.” The straight-edger’s grin widens as his steel-grey eyes bore into the Franchise’s mirrored shades. “Tom Flesher, probably the greatest technical wrestler to ever step into an SWF ring; all that skill couldn’t stop me from dropping him on his head when I beat him in singles competition. Dace Night? Great mat wrestler, tough as sin and hits harder than an 18-wheeler… I like to refer to him as ‘my personal bitch’, the amount of times I’ve beaten him.” Toxxic steps back and drains his can in one long swig, then crumples it in his fist and chucks it accurately into a nearby trashcan. “You see sunshine, you might be the Franchise but you’re not the Straight-Edge Sensation. You might have been a dominant ICTV Champion, but you’re not a two-time World Champion. And you’re also alone in this company, and that’s not a good place to be when there are battle lines being drawn.” The straight-edger turns to walk off, but continues over his shoulder. “I don’t blame you for being mad at Sacred, but he’s one of ours now, and if you mess with him you mess with us. Bear that in mind.” “You know,” Francis calls out after the receding Brit, “you give all this tough talk… but aren’t you the guy I’ve just seen lose two titles, one after another?” Toxxic stops in his tracks, then turns around and looks back at the Franchise. The right side of his face quirks upwards into the familiar lopsided grin, but there’s no humour in the smile this time. “That’s right,” Toxxic replies softly. “Do a little more homework Mak, ask around. Find out what happens to people after I’ve been losing.” He turns away again and starts walking, but his last words are just audible. “Ask Kibagami. Or ask Justin Bowers… if he can still talk.”

SWF Smarkdown returns from a commercial break…yadda yadda yadda. “Welcome back fans to SWF Smarkdown!” “Our next match is a non-title match as the SWF Cruiserweight Champion, Spike Jenkins takes on “The Untouchable” Kaine!” “Lets go to the ring!” “Ladies and Gentleman, the opening contest is schedule for one fall and is for the SWF CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP!!!” Funyon breathes to let the applause quiet down, “First, making his way to the ring…The Challenger!” Just then the soft, melodic opening to “Feuer Frei” by Rammstein starts up. After about 10 seconds the song begins to start up and from the back appears the youngster Kaine. Quickly, he glances out around the arena, pointing to several dozen fans in the arena that hold his old “BEWARE OF FALLING OBJECTS” shirt up high in the air. “Making his way to the ring. Hailing from Kassel, Germany! Weighing in at a total of One Hundred and Ninety-One pounds…accompanied by Samuel Dobbson…he is “The Untouchable” KAINE!!!!!!!! As the youngster continues down the aisle to the ring, he reaches over to slap hands with several fans at ringside, but at the last second he pulls his hand back causing the fans to hit nothing but air, causing the youngster to start laughing at them for trying, receiving several middle fingers from the fans for his antics. Quickly Kaine slides into the ring and begins to prance confidently around the ring like he’s already won the match. “Coming to the ring at this time…THE CHAMPION!” Kaine waits in the ring, waiting for the champion… When every light in the arena goes to full power as the Smarktron whites out. For a moment the only sound is that of a needle scratching over vinyl... And then *BAM* The crashing guitars of Lamb of God’s “Black Label” send a bolt through the crowd. “AND HIS OPPONENT!” shouts Funyon through the cheering of the crowd. The drumming sends a jolt throughout the arena, as the pace of the intro begins to pick up. Finally… “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH” The high-pitched scream of Randy Blythe breaks through the speakers as the bright white lights begin flashing at the entranceway. As the scream hits the crowd, the SWF Cruiserweight Champion and Revolution Zero member makes his way out, walking underneath the giant menorah. The Minnesota crowd goes ape shit as they tear Spike apart. Behind the champion stands the Revolution’s valet, Jet. Instead of his usual jacket/vest, Spike had a black “Only the Foolish Die Young” sweater on, a black hood covering most of his face. The SWF Cruiserweight Title is strapped firmly around his waist, as he stops at the top of the entranceway. Spike looks through the crowd and then towards his left. Spike shakes his head, a few strands of his long, dyed blonde hair come into view over his face. Spike drops down to one knee, leaving one arm to hang to the ground, while the other is firmly placed on his knee. After a few moments, Spike raises both arms into an “X”, symbolizing his Straight Edge life style. Many of the Manchester fans hold pro-Revolution Zero and Straight Edge signs in the crowd; a few of them even making an “X” with their arms. Spike rises to his feet and begins to make his way down the isle towards the ring. “Weighing in at a total of Two Hundred and Twenty Five Pounds. He hails from Hollywood, California. He is being accompanied to the ring by Jet; and is a member of REVOLUTION ZERO!!” Funyon stops to let the crowd cheer on their favorite stable. “He is the current reigning and defending SWF CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPION!!!! HE IS ‘HOLLYWOOD’ SPIKE JENKINS!!!!” The fans continue as Spike walks around the ring. He makes his way completely around the ring and rolls underneath the bottom rope. He continues rolling until he hits dead center in the middle of the ring. Spike rises to one knee and resumes the position he was in at the top of the entranceway. One arm hanging to the ground, the other placed on his knee. Spike just stands there, just allowing the crowd to get louder and louder. “SPIKE SUCKS! SPIKE SUCKS! SPIKE SUCKS! SPIKE SUCKS!” 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 walks into his corner, unstrapping the SWF Cruiserweight Title from his waist. Referee Brendan Fitzgerald takes the title from Jenkins. He carries it across the ring towards the challenger, showing it to Kaine. Austin nods at Fitzgerald. Fitzgerald holds the title belt in the air. He hands the belt to a ring crewmember and signals for the bell. Spike pulls the hoodie over his head and tosses it to ringside as this match is underway. “Here we go!” Spike and Kaine walk out of their corner and circle the ring. They eye each other careful as they enter the center of the ring with a lock up. Both strive for control, but Kaine takes control early with an arm drag takeover. Spike hits the mat and immediately slides back into the corner. “The Untouchable with a nice arm drag takedown on the Cruiserweight Champion!” Kaine waits in the middle of the ring, poking fun at his opponent. Spike climbs to his feet and they circle each other again. They go to meet in the middle of the ring again, but Spike drops down for a single leg takedown… that is countered into a front face lock by Kaine. Kaine breaks the hold, spins over the back of Spike and locks his arms in a rear waist lock. Kaine turns over onto his back, lifting Spike off his kneeled position into the air and back down onto the mat. Kaine breaks the waist lock and spins over Spike’s back again, this time locking his hands around the neck with a front headlock. Spike fights to his feet, dragging Kaine with him. Kaine breaks the front face lock, grabs Spike’s wrist and spins around into an arm wringer. Spike grabs his shoulder, but Kaine just continues pulling and twisting. Spike drops to one knee in a moment of pain, but comes back to his feet. Spike turns his body away from Kaine and drives his back into the chest of the challenger. With Kaine pushed out of the way, Spike breaks the arm wringer and locking in his own standing arm bar. Kaine tries to counter, but Spike is too fast for him. He wraps his free arm around the neck of Kaine, breaks the arm bar and locks his other arm into a cravat. Spike wrenches the neck, but lets go of the hold soon thereafter into an arm wringer. Spike spins underneath the arm of Kaine, drops down to his knees and takes Kaine over with a fireman’s carry. Spike keeps the lock on Kaine’s arm still with an arm bar. “Both men working the mat. These two men faced off at Tuesday Night Slay Ride for the SWF Cruiserweight title. In that encounter, Spike defeated Kaine with a Ratings Crash! Will the same happen tonight?” Spike pulls on the arm causing Kaine to yelp in pain. He tries to shake his arm loose, but its no use. Kaine leans his body back…and KIPS UP! Spike stands in shock as the crowd cheers in amazement. Kaine counters out of the arm bar into an arm wringer and takes the stunned champion down with a fireman’s carry. Kaine locks Spikes’ arm the same way Spike had it with an arm bar. “Kaine pulling out a few tricks and keeping the slower Jenkins down with some fast movements.” “We have gone over this before. Kaine is a younger version of Spike Jenkins. He can be a break out star if he keeps his head on his shoulders and gains a little more experience.” “I hate to say it, but I agree.” Spike fights to his feet, clutching the shoulder as Kaine bends it. Spike drops down to the mat, flinging the German Cruiserweight over to the mat with an arm drag takedown. Kaine sits up, but Spike is right behind him. He locks his legs around the right arm of Kaine and hooks his own arm underneath the left arm of Kaine. Spike pulls Kaine backwards on top of his shoulders with a crucifix. ONE! TWO---KICKOUT! “Barely a two count on that crucifix attempt. A nice try, but not enough to keep the youngster down.” Spike and Kaine both jump to their feet at the same time, but Spike is able to crack the mouth of Kaine with a ROLLING LARIAT~! Kaine hits the mat hard, but instinctively gets right back to his feet. Still a little woozy, he just barely catches the air born Jenkins, who wraps his legs around the challenger’s head and snaps him back with a hurricanrana! Spike gets back to a standing position, stomping his foot into the mat and waiting for his opponent to get up. Kaine woozily climbs to his feet, as Spike sets off into the ropes. Spike bounces off the ropes and comes charging back with another lariat!!!…But Kaine ducks underneath it. Spike turns around, only to be caught with a side headlock takedown! Kaine wrenches on the neck with the basic, but effective, move. “Kaine stops Spike’s vast flurry of offense with a side headlock takedown!” Spike tries to wrap his legs around the head of Kaine, but it’s a no go. Spike wraps his arms around the waist of Kaine and pulls him backwards onto the mat with another crucifix! ONE! TW—KICK OUT! “Kaine kicks out at two!” Kaine tries to get to his feet, but Spike gets up first, double under hooking Kaine’s arms as they rise to their feet. Kaine breaks out of it, grabbing Spike’s arm and spinning underneath it with an arm wringer. Kaine wields back and smacks Spike across the chest with a chop…and a second! Kaine Irish whips Spike across the ring into the ropes. Spike bounces off the ropes and comes charging back towards the awaiting Kaine…who cracks Spike with a lariat! Spike hits the mat, but comes back up to his feet to meet a dropkick! Spike gets back up to his feet and walks into a flying wheel kick!!! Kaine climbs to one knee, posing for the crowd as Spike holds his face. Kaine hooks the leg for the cover! ONE! TWO! THR---KICK OUT! The crowd jeers as Kaine climbs up to his feet, complaining about a slow count. Spike slowly gets up behind him. Kaine turns his attention back around towards the challenger… …Who hits him with a boot to the gut. Spike pulls Kaine into a standing head scissors. Spike pulls him up to a piledriver position, placing his legs over the flailing arms of the challenger… …AND DROPS DOWN, DRIVING Kaine FACE FIRST INTO THE MAT WITH A RATINGS CRASH!!! “Ratings Crash! Spike hit the Ratings Crash! It has to be over!” The crowd boos as Spike rolls over into a sitting position, holding Kaine down in a sunset flip position. ONE!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THREE!!!!!!!!! *Ding Ding Ding* “Spike Jenkins comes out the victor on Smarkdown!” “Fans, we will be right back after this commercial break.” [FIN]

“Welcome back to Smarkdown, everyone! Longdogger Pete here alongside the venerable Suicide King!” Pete brings viewers back to the show with exuberance, with the cameras all placed on Funyon, who stands poised in the center of the ring as the sold-out crowd murmurs around him. “Ladies and Gentlemen…the following contest is a PURE WRESTLING MATCH and is scheduled for ONE FALL. For this contest, each competitor will be given three rope breaks and only three. When they are down to zero, a submission may be applied for as long as necessary! Any punches thrown shall be considered a disqualification, and will be treated just like a rope break.” The fans fall into silence as the stipulations pour into their heads, with Pete and King both shaking their heads. “Tom Flesher said he would change the way the masses viewed Smarkdown, and he was right!” “You should never take anything Flesher says as a half-truth and you know that, Pete!” King responds as the lights around the arena suddenly fall out, leaving that of a familiar face burned into the SmarkTron….and a few simple words… “Pardon me while I burst…” BOOOOM! “Ladies and Gentlemen…” Funyon begins as “Pardon Me” erupts from the loudspeakers, “…introducing first, he hails from Long Beach, California and weighs in at two hundred and thirty pounds…representing MARTIAL LAW…. he is… ALLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAN CLAAAAAAAAAAAAARK!” Alan bursts through the curtain like a rocket to the roars of the crowd, rushing to the ring and hitting it with speed, sliding under the bottom rope and shooting to his feet, his hands raised high. “That guy is crazy. He’s going to get himself killed.” “Or a gun.” King offhandedly mentions, shrugging as Pete stares at him confused. In the ring, Alan turns toward the SmarkTron in wait and his eyes burn with determination as his music fades and his replaced by the stuttering of the screen and the hiss of static… "There is nothing wrong with your television set.“ “Do not attempt to adjust the picture." “We will control the horizontal.” “We will control the vertical.” “We are controlling transmission...." The screen returns to normal and the boos nearly instinctively rain down onto the entranceway as Andrew Blackwell…The Sacred One himself…steps through the curtain, poised as always as “Tainted” begins to play throughout the building. “And his opponent…” Funyon tries to get himself heard over the jeering crowd, “…hailing from Adelaide, Australia and weighing in at two hundred and sixteen pounds… representing Revolution Zero…he is the CURRENT NUMBER ONE CONTENDER FOR THE S-W-F WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP… he is… SAAAAAAAAAAACRED!!” “These two men have beaten each other all over the place for the last few weeks, and Sacred has yet to score any big victories against Alan Clark. Both men left 2004 battered and bloody at Slay Ride, and with Landon Maddix looming on the horizon this could be Sacred’s chance to send the Revolution Zero message to another member of Martial Law!” “But you have to wonder where his head is at, Doggah. Sacred has been working for the past few months to get back in shape to go after that world championship, and with the former champion standing over him, you just have to know Sacred is not completely prepared for tonight! Landon Maddix isn’t even scheduled to be here, but the contender has to wrestle! That isn’t even fair!” “Either way, King, Sacred is looking better than ever and I don’t think it really matters where his mind is, his eyes are firmly on Alan Clark…” Pete continues as Sacred walks up the ringsteps and into the ring, keeping his vision locked with Clark as he takes his place with referee Sexton Hardcastle standing between them. “…and you have to wonder if he is seeing Clark or Maddix on the other side of that ring right now.” DING DING DING! The bell sounds and the two men go into a lock-up, their size and strength nearly equal as they push into each other with all they have, doing whatever they can to get an early advantage. SMACK! Sacred pushes off and Clark falls forward, only to catch a hard open hand to the side of his face. Alan staggers from the surprise blow, and Sacred quickly follows up by wrapping his hands around Clark’s waist and pulling him off the mat… THUD! “And he is wasting no time in going after the neck of Alan Clark right there with that picture perfect German Suplex!” Even though it is only seconds into the match, Sacred bridges his body up and tries his best to keep Clark pinned down, but before Hardcastle can even get onto his knees Alan powers his way out and rolls onto his stomach, pushing himself up as Sacred stands in front of him. “If I were Sacred I would try to get this done as quickly as possible. The more time he wastes the more energy he uses, and don’t even get me started about Alan’s resiliency. Remember when he almost put Thugg through that car? Even I wouldn’t have bet on that one.” ”Me either, King, and it does seem as if Sacred is really working at getting out of his match early as he pulls Clark back up to his feet and immediately puts him right back down with a HARD DDT! I think I saw a few fans grimace there as Alan’s face flattened against the canvas!” Pete goes hardcore with the play-by-play as Sacred rolls on top of Clark and goes for another quick cover… One! T-Kickout! Alan again is quick to kick-out, his whole body rolling out from underneath that of Sacred, but the Revolution Zero cornerstone is itching to continue the punishment, shoving Alan almost off his feet and into the corner. Blackwell follows up with another vicious open-handed slap, keeping well within the rules as he wipes the smile from Clark’s face one shot at a time… SLAP! SLAP! OOOOOOOO! “YEAAAAH!” But Clark turns it around, firing from the corner and grabbing at Sacred’s head, throwing him into the corner and returning the favor with hard chops across the chest of the Sacred One! CHOP! CHOP! RIIIIP! Sacred’s shirt is torn from his body, exposing his chest to the knife-edge of Clark’s right hand as he continues… CHOP! CHOP! Alan backs away to Hardcastle’s demands, giving Sacred some room to come out of the corner, but Clark can’t help but get his hands in there again, wrapping his arms around the number one contender’s head… “SIMPLE FATE! HE CAN’T DO THIS ALREADY!” King cries out, but Sacred has this scouted all too well as he shoves with all his might into Alan’s back, causing Clark to flail out of control and fall almost like an accordian to the mat, his body curling up on itself as it impacts. “He is going to be feeling that tomorrow!” Pete calls as Sacred hits the ropes and bounces off, jumping into the air and coming down with all two hundred plus pounds of Blackwell straight through his right knee and into Alan’s forehead! “And that as well! COVER!” One! Tw—NO!! Alan again kicks out at two, pushing Sacred away and clutching at his head as he writhes and rolls toward the ring ropes, using them as a ladder to get to his feet as Sacred comes up behind him. “He can’t escape that easy…” King chuckles slightly as Clark is pulled hair-first back into the middle of the ring, holding him up with his left hand as his right forearm comes in and catches Clark in the forehead once more. Another shot…and another…and as the camera pans in to get a close-up view of the action it can be seen that somewhere along the way Alan Clark had been busted apart. “There is blood coming down Alan Clark’s forehead now, and that could spell disaster, although knowing what I know about this guy it could just be what he needs to win! That is not a good sign for Sacred!” “Oh shut up, Petey. Everything is a good sign for Sacred tonight, even with this maniac bleeding all over him! I don’t care if his name used to be Bloodshed or Toolshed, he doesn’t stand a chance here tonight!” King’s exclamation is further proved positive as Alan bounces from the ropes after an irish whip, only to catch another hard forearm to the face, putting Sacred on his knees and Clark down on his back once more and into another pinning attempt! One! Two! NO!!!! “Alan Clark barely kicks out, and King, you can not underestimate what Alan Clark can do. He has beaten Sacred, hell, he has beaten both Toxxic AND Landon Maddix. He may have had his fair share of loses against those three men from time to time, but you can’t deny the skill he has if he can say that he has defeated all three of the men that most see as the top three in the company right now.” “What about Mak Francis or Dace Night? Huh? Top three?” “Well I’m sure both of those men will have something to say about that, but neither of them are in action tonight, so we’ll just have to wait and see!” Pete yells as Sacred drags Clark across the ring, doing what he can to keep the man down for the count, but Clark continues to try and fight away, kicking at Sacred with his free foot before the Revolution Zero member can take no more, and drops to the ground, wrapping his hand around Alan’s throat and LIFTING HIM TO HIS FEET! “…ouch.” “My God! He just choked him up, if that makes any sense!” Pete and King watch on as Sexton Hardcastle tries to get the choke stopped, only for Sacred to simply turn and throw Alan one-handed into the corner with a hard thud of his body striking the turnbuckle. Sacred gives Hardcastle a “satisfied?” look before moving in once more, not wanting to waste a second on the referee’s problems as he slams his forearm into the bleeding Clark once again. The Sacred One backs up for the referee once again, but as Clark walks from the corner in a daze he finds himself making a speedy downturn straight into the canvas, courtesy of a drop toehold from Andrew Blackwell! SMACK! The landing no doubt draws more blood, but the cameras can only catch Sacred’s body as he throws himself over the downed Clark for another quick cover… One! Two! NO!!! “Alan Clark kicks out again, and this has to be getting frustrating for the Number One Contender!” King remarks as Sacred pulls Clark up and whips him into the ropes, but Clark turns it around, sending Sacred to the ropes instead as hard as he can. The surprise counter catches Sacred off guard as Clark catches him coming back, spinning his body like a propeller… CRACK!! “DID YOU HEAR THAT, KING! Sacred could be BROKEN IN HALF!” The sound of Blackwell’s back connecting with Clark’s knee sends a shudder through the crowd, and Clark collapses on top of him as he hits the mat. One! Two! T-NOOOO!! “Alan Clark almost snapped and stunned his way to victory, and you can see on Sacred’s face that he is NOT happy about it!” King calls as the camera catches a close up on Blackwell, his expression a mixture of pain and surprise as Alan recovers over his shoulder, but Sacred breathes deep and turns his attention back to his opponent as he gets to his feet, both men getting up at nearly the exact same instant, but Alan’s second wind has hit him like heroin, and as Sacred tries for a lock-up the only thing he can get is the top of Alan’s right boot catching him in the temple, putting him down on his knees! “ONE HIT KILL! Sacred tried to get his hands on Clark, but Alan gave him a nearly perfect enziguri to get him reeling! He may not be the comeback kid, but Clark is on the trail now!” Pete exclaims as Sacred snaps back to reality after the kick, only to find his head in the clutches of Clark and being pulled to the canvas! THUD! “My heavens! Alan Clark just drove Sacred into the canvas from his knees with that DDT! COVER!!” One! Two!! SHOULDER UP!! Sacred’s shoulder fires from the canvas, staying up to make sure Hardcastle gets a good view of it as Clark slides off of him and tries to pull him up once more, neither man wanting to wait a second to attack the other, but the two big moves from Clark have taken more out of Sacred than first thought, as he takes a little extra time to get to his knees, even with helpful persuasion from Alan above him. Sacred fires off another hard forearm to Alan’s gut, but Clark is marginally unfazed, taking his time to push Blackwell away and bring his foot up and seering through the air, pivoting like a certain Bahama Bomber before clocking Sacred once again in the side of the head. “That can’t be good for migraines!” LDP comments as Sacred sways back and forth from the shot, giving Alan the chance to pull him to his feet. A hard kick to the gut follows, and Alan wraps his arms around Sacred’s head, holding him in a facelock before lifting him off the ground and quickly driving him over with a snap suplex! “Beautiful suplex there, and it looks like Clark is headed to the movies…” ”The WHAT?” King questions as Clark swivels his hips and readjusts himself, keeping Sacred in the facelock as he gets back on his knees and then to his feet before lifting Blackwell up once more, holding him in the air for a few seconds… “The blood drains to Sacred’s head, and he must be seeing falling stars!” Pete continues as Alan falls back like an old California redwood, Sacred’s body hitting the canvas hard and bouncing in the clutches of Clark. Another quick swivel gets them both on their knees again, but as Clark stands to his feet and lifts Sacred toward the ropes, Blackwell throws his foot between Alan’s legs and falls backwards… SMALL PACKAGE!!!! SMALL PACKAGE!! WAIT!! REVERSED!! ONE! TWO! ROPE BREAK!! “Sacred knew he was near the ropes and had to do what he could to get out of the pinning predicament, but that just cost him a rope break in this pure wrestling environment!” Pete exclaims once more as Sacred and Hardcastle get into it in the middle of the ring, Sexton yelling and going over the rules with Blackwell, but there is nothing the Sacred One can do. The angry Sacred kicks at the bottom rope hard and then turns his frustrations back to Clark, only to catch another boot to the stomach before being lifted up high and dropped down across the top rope… BOOOOIIIIINGGG~! “Shades of Coy West and the Wayward Sooooooo…” THUUUD!! “…oons with that Slingshot Suplex! FLOATOVER! COVER!” One! Two! Threeennnoooooooo!!! “Alan Clark finishes off his trip to the Multiplex with a late showing after that brief intermission, but can’t get it done against the number one contender!” King’s sudden foray into movie clichés gets a chuckle from LDP, but before either commentator can get lippy with the other Alan is back on his feet and heading to the corner, hopping to the top rope as Sacred lays in the middle of the ring, able to kick out but not much else as he recovers from the series of slams. “HIGH RISK MOVE!!” Pete screams as Alan leaps off the top rope, flipping forward and stretching his body out, looking to drive an elbow straight into Sacred’s heart! “RAINBOW IN THE DARK! IT’S BEEN ALMOST A YEAR AND A HALF SINCE ANYONE HAS SEEN THAT!!” THUUUUUD!! “SACRED MOOOOOVED!” Both announcers yell out, as Blackwell is able to roll his body just far enough out of Clark’s way to cause the former Ghost to crash into the mat, his body bouncing hard and rolling to a stop on his side. “Alan Clark tried to go high-risk and paid for it big time, unbelievable.” Pete remarks as both men now fight to get back to their feet, and Sacred seems to be winning the race after the huge dive from Clark caught nothing but air and canvas. “That resiliency is really going to have to kick in with Clark if he wants to win this match!” “Win? With Sacred’s mind stuck on Landon Maddix and that ten pounds of gold Alan Clark is going to be lucky to survive!” King bellows as Sacred uses what speed he has left to come across the ring, bringing his knee up and catching Alan in the side of the face, putting the Martial Law member back face down in the corner. “Ouch. What a shot.” “At least that could have gotten rid of Clark’s acne.” “That’s more blood, King.” “EWW.” King shudders as a camera moves down by Clark, still bleeding from early in the match, his face starting to tinge red as he tries to pull himself back up, but once again Sacred wastes no time in getting back on the offensive, pulling Alan out to the middle of the ring and dropping on top of him with another cover… One! Two! Thr---NOOO! Alan’s shoulder gets off the mat just before the three, and the crowd reacts with loud cheers, only to be once again silenced as Sacred slams his knee into the side of Clark’s face before getting to his feet and pulling Clark up as well. The two men seem to exchange words as Sacred holds Clark by the head, shoving him down and into a standing headscissors before pulling him into the air and in perfect position for what Pete likes to scream…. “FOR MY FALLEN AAAANGEL!!!” “NOOOOO!!!” THUUUUUUUD!! ONE! TWO! NOOOOOOO!!! “SO CLOSE! SO VERY CLOSE!! Alan Clark counters with a perfect ‘rana there, leaving Sacred stunned for a moment, but now look angrier than we have seen him all night.” Pete watches his monitor as Sacred stands up and turns to face Clark, still on his knees after the hurricanrana took out the little bit of energy he seemed to be saving up. Another stiff kick to the face follows and Clark once more finds himself up in the air… ”SECOND TIME DOESN’T MISS!!” BOOOOOOM!!! The ring shakes as Alan’s body slams against the canvas with nothing short of “AUTHORITY~!”, leaving the Martial Law member to be thrown to the side and once more covered by Blackwell, who smiles as Sexton counts beside him. “This is over…Sacred might have just killed Alan Clark with that one…” One! Twoooooooo!! Threeeeeeeeeeeeeee!! DING DING… ”WAIT!!!” LDP screams as the bell sounds, but Sexton runs across the ring like a chicken with it’s head cut off, screaming between Sacred and the timekeeper that the match isn’t over. Confused, Sacred’s eyes wander from the referee to Clark’s body… …and finds Alan’s foot atop the bottom rope. “ALAN CLARK GOT HIS FOOT ON THE ROPE! He may have lost a rope break, but he is still in this match!” “I did not just see Clark’s foot do that! He should be out cold after that! I felt the shock over HERE!” King tries to rationalize what he just saw as replays of the pin replay over and over, Clark’s foot hitting the bottom rope just before Hardcastle counts the three. “Ladies and Gentlemen…Alan Clark’s foot broke the plane of the rope before the three count could be made, therefore this match MUST CONTINUE!!” Funyon makes the call and Sacred takes his anger out on the still downed Clark, his foot looking to try and wedge itself between Alan’s teeth. Hardcastle does his best to push, pull, or otherwise move Blackwell away from Clark, but Sacred has none of it, doing his best not to shove the referee out of the ring as he reaches down and pulls Alan up to his feet and into the middle of the ring where there is no chance of getting to a rope without a ten foot crawl. Doubled over, Alan finds his arms getting tied up by those of the Sacred One, and put in a familiar position. “CRUEL FATE! Sacred couldn’t connect at Slay Ride, but this looks to be a foregone conclusion after what we just saw!” Pete hollers as Sacred tries to pull Alan down, only for the slippery Clark to slide from Blackwell’s grasp, leaving the Revolution Zero member to collapse on his back with Alan staring down at him, a smile on his face. “You have got to be KIDDING ME! It’s like he just got his eighth wind or something! Does he carry fans in his pants or something?” “Alan Clark’s fans are all throughout this arena toni—“ “NOT THOSE KINDS OF FANS, YOU DOLT!” Clark tries to attack, only for Sacred to roll to his back and fire his feet upwards in one swift motion, CLOCKING Alan square in the jaw. Sacred continues to roll through, flipping backwards onto his knees as Alan falls to his and then like a beaten prize fighter drops straight onto his face, not even putting his hands up in defense of the canvas. “That did it there, Alan Clark is knocked out. Good night nurse!” Pete remarks as Sacred moves over top of the bloody Clark and goes for the cover once more… One! Twoooooo! Threeeeeeeeeeeeee!!! NO!!! “HE KICKED OUT! HE KICKED OUT!” Pete yells out as Clark is milliseconds away from defeat, but is able to kick out just in time to save himself. Sacred once again has victory yanked from his fingertips. “Look at that look of frustration on the number one contender’s face. He is ready to rip out Clark’s intestines.” ”Thanks for that visual, King.” Pete covers his mouth as Sacred drags Clark up and once again puts him into position for the Cruel Fate, his arms intertwined to perfection as he holds Clark’s head only a few feet from his demise. “He won’t kick out from this…I don’t care who he thinks he is…” King remarks coldly as Sacred lifts, but Clark goes deadweight and hits the canvas on his feet, shoving off hard and putting Blackwell into the ropes… SMAAAAAAACK! “SUPERKICK! ALAN CLARK COUNTERS WITH A SUPERKICK! SACRED IS REELING!!” Pete screams as Sacred hits the ropes yet again and Clark moves in for the kill, wrapping his arms around the head of Sacred… “NO!” “SIMPLE FAAAAAA-NOOO!!! SACRED SLIPS OUT!!” Pete and King, as well as the rest of the arena, are on the edge of their seats as Sacred shoves Clark away and into the ropes, and as Alan comes back Sacred catches another hard kick to his gut and quickly gets him in place and throws his legs backwards… THUUUUUUUUD!!! …driving Clark bloody face-first into the canvas!!! “CRUEL FATE!! SACRED HIT IT!!! AND THE COVER!!!!” One! Twoooooooo!!! Threeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!! Ding Ding Ding!!!! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!” “Sacred wins! Sacred wins! The Cruel Fate finally puts Alan Clark away!!” King yells out as Lycia’s “Tainted” once again plays out over the PA speakers. Sacred stands to his feet, his hand raised by Sexton Hardcastle as Funyon makes the match official. “Ladies and Gentlemen…the winner of this match by pinfall…SAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACRED!!” From backstage come Todd Cortez and Landon Maddix, with Cortez sliding into the ring to retrieve Clark as Maddix watches on from the outside. The Champion and the Contender share a gaze toward each other as Cortez checks on Clark. “In just a few days, those two men will face off for the biggest prize in our sport!! Sacred is tearing through Martial Law one by one, and though he defeated Landon Maddix once already in this new year, next time it’s for the championship, and Sacred now more than ever has the advantage!!” Smarkdown heads to commercial with Pete continuing to shill as Martial Law exits the ringside area, leaving Sacred in the ring staring his future opponent all the way to the curtain.

“We need to talk.” Andrew Blackwell - Sacred - turns around to see the familiar figure of Toxxic looking at him from the entrance to the dressing room. The Australian raises his eyebrows slightly and Toxxic enters, shutting the door behind him. “You lasted seven minutes against Maddix on Lockdown,” the Straight-Edge Sensation says, leaning against the wall, “and we both know what that means; you get a title shot on Storm. You get the chance to take the World Title away from that up-himself prick Landon Maddix and return it to where it belongs - here with us in Revolution Zero.” Sacred nods slightly, but says nothing. “Now if you remember,” Toxxic continues, “Sean Davis was granted a title shot - any title shot - due to his placing in the rankings.” Sacred nods again - he was there when Ben Hardy had brought the news, after all. “Sean didn’t take that shot,” Toxxic reminds his Antipodean stablemate, “because he thought that title belongs to me. Which was very noble of him, and a wonderful display of solidarity. Don’t think that I’m going to tell you that you shouldn’t be taking this shot against Landon, because you should… but we need to talk about it.” “I’m listening,” Sacred says, brushing his hair back from his eyes. “On Friday, you’ll either win that belt and become a two-time World Champion… or you won’t,” Toxxic begins. “I’m hoping you’ll win. But we need to get something very clear; even if you win, you don’t take my place as the leader of Revolution Zero.” One eyebrow raises, just slightly. “You’re not a leader,” Toxxic tells Sacred bluntly. “We both know that. I saw it when I first came here; I watched you and the Experiment and wondered exactly what you were doing, and it quickly became clear to me that you didn’t know either.” Toxxic grins slightly, lopsidedly. “You’re a hell of a wrestler Sacred, on a good day you might be better than me… I don’t know. But you’re not a leader. You’re not reliable enough. You can’t be trusted to make the right decisions for everyone, and let’s face it, Spike and Sean still don’t trust you as far as they can throw you. Which admittedly in Sean’s case is pretty far,” the straight-edger concedes, “but that’s not the point. The point is that I created this group, and World Title or not, I still lead it. And that leads me to my next point.” “Go on.” “You’re a member of Revolution Zero,” Toxxic tells the Australian, “but when it comes down to it, what have you actually done for us? You came to me looking to join us, hoping we would give you direction.” The Brit gestures around at the dressing room, encompassing not only their presence in the arena but also the Sacred One’s impending title shot. “I’d say we gave you direction. Now what are you going to give us in return?” “How about the World Title?” Sacred asks, brushing his hair back again. Toxxic grins again, but only for a moment. “I wish I could believe you,” he tells Blackwell, “but you’re inherently untrustworthy. So much as I don’t like this, I have to give you an ultimatum; come Friday, you have two choices: You can go into that match as a member of Revolution Zero, with our full support behind you in case Martial Law stick their noses in or if Francis decides to get involved… and if you do, then win or lose, you will still be a member of Revolution Zero afterwards.” The Straight-Edge Sensation’s grey eyes stare into Sacred’s for a moment before the Brit continues. “Or you can sever all ties with us before that match, and go in on your own. You won’t have our help or our backup behind you… but you’ll be free to go your own way afterwards. I will still be coming for that title, but I won’t treat you any differently than any other opponent I have to beat.” “It always comes down to choices…” Sacred muses quietly, but Toxxic cuts him off by placing a hand on his chest. “One thing more. It might occur to you at some point between now and then to enlist our support, then leave us anyway should you win the title. I’d encourage you not to take that option,” Toxxic tells Sacred, “because that would justify all the doubts Sean and Spike ever had about you; it would, in effect, prove me wrong. And I don’t like that.” The Straight-Edge Sensation steps back, but keeps his gaze fixed on the Australian. “If you do that, I will be coming for you, not the title. I will leave pursuing the World Title until such time as I am sure that I have destroyed you for betraying me and mine. You will not enjoy that experience.” “Understood,” Sacred nods noncommittally, but Toxxic looks doubtful. “I wonder if you do,” he wonders, the shrugs. “We’ll see. But Sacred… don’t prove me wrong.” The Straight-Edge Sensation turns his back and leaves the dressing room. Andrew Blackwell stares after him for a moment, expression unreadable, then returns to lacing up his boots.

"Let the bodies hit the floor." "Let the bodies hit the floor." "Let the bodies hit the...FLOOOOOOOOOOOOR!" Smarkdown returns with a vengeance, as the night's next contest is about to get underway with the arrival of Carnage on the entrance ramp, showered in the jeers of the capacity crowd! "Another match that should prove most interesting tonight, King. The hardcore champion and a man not exactly known for his technical prowess taking part in what Tom Flesher has deemed a pure wrestling show!" "Interesting indeed, Peter. I'll give credit where credit is due...Cortez appears to be the more well rounded of the two. Still, I doubt they're teaching cattle mutilations on The Streets these days, so..." "Wait...why would someone mutilate cattle in the streets?" "What?" "I mean, why would a cow even BE on the streets in the first place?" "Pete, you stu..." "Bah, I'm just pullin' your chain! Let's take it to Funyon for the intro's!" Carnage has now made it down to ringside, and lurks around the area, growling at ringside fans all while Funyon stands at center ring and earns his paycheck. FUNYON Ladies and gentlemen, this contest is scheduled for one fall! Entering the ring at this time, and hailing from Parts Unknown, he weighs in at 307 pounds...CAAAAAAAAAARRRRRNNNAAAAAAAAAGE!" The masked maraurder pumps his fists up, letting out a muffled roar before shaking the ropes and pacing the ring. Both referee Jefferson Harding and Funyon step away form the raving psychopath as he paces the ring, anticipating his opponent's entrance. The sounds of Drowning Pool are soon replaced by Fabolous, as the lights drop and cloak the arena in darkness. As soon as the chorus to "Breathe" hits, Todd Cortez leaps from behind the curtain and out onto the stage, jogging to both sides of the ramp and waving his arms, urging the crowd to their feet. Nearly all responds as the Urban Legend jogs down the ramp with a slight smile on his face, turning often to either side of the crowd and pumping his fists. "Here he comes, a man responsible for the newest SWF supergroup!" "SUPERGROUP? Your definition and my definition of supergroup are greatly different, Pete." The Martial Law member gets to ringside and springs up onto the apron, turning back to face the crowd and taking his sunglasses off to get a better view. FUNYON His opponent, he hails from Hollywood Boulevard, and weighs in tonight at 226 pounds. He is the reigning SWF Hardcore Champion...the Urban Legend, TODDDDDDD CORRRRRRTEZZZZZZ! Cortez turns to enter the ring after kissing his beloved cross, backing Carnage up as he gets right in the monsters face and forces him back a few steps. Cortez then backs away and runs up the ropes, throwing his arms up and saluting the crowd a final time as the lights come up as his theme music fades out. Cortez again comes face to face with Carnage as Funyon ducks out, and Harding calls for the bell to get things going. Carnage grunts as he stares at his smaller, yet formidable foe, while Cortez looks up at the masked outcast and just smirks before getting down on all fours?! "Pete, you wanna explain this one to me?" "Damned if I know, King." Cortez gets down on all fours and looks up, calling Carnage on. The horror movie monster simply looks down in confusion at what Cortez is doing, although Pete seems to have caught on in commentary. "I know what he's doing!" "Waiting to be sodomized?" "No, no, no...Flesher wanted a pure wrestling show, and Cortez is giving it to him. He's down in an amateur position, and is telling Carnage to come try and tie him up!" "Tie him up, down on all fours...Cortez is a sick, sick man." Carnage seems to have caught on, and circles Cortez, who doesn't move. Carnage stands over his foe, then begins to move into position and hook him...but swerves him at the last second and drops an elbow...which Cortez rolls away from! "He tricked him!" "Whatever works, right King?" Cortez hops up to his feet as Carnage picks himself up off the canvas, and fires off a couple of forearms to stagger his stunned foe. Carnage gets back to the ropes, and Cortez attempts an Irish whip, but the big man hangs onto the ropes, then responds to Cortez's attack by drilling him with a knee in his ribs! Carnage then clubs Cortez across his back, the sounds of Carnage's forearm smacking across his back echoing throughout the arena. Carnage then sends Cortez in and ducks his head, but rather than get backdropped over Cortez rolls over Carnage's back, coming up behind him, and then knocking him down with a jump spinning wheel kick as he turns around! Carnage reels as Cortez hits the ropes, charging Carnage as he's recovering...and getting sent up into the air by the big man, flapjack-style...COUNTERED INTO A DROPKICK! Carnage stumbles back and goes through the ropes out to the floor, landing on his feet but still in a daze, as Cortez gets up and proudly smirks. Harding immediately begins the count on Carnage... ONE! TWO! THREE! F-TODD CORTEZ WITH A TOPE THROUGH THE ROPES TAKES CARNAGE OUT! "You idiot, you're supposed to get him back IN the ring!" King is probably the only person knocking on Cortez for the risky move, as the fans came unglued upon seeing the sight of their favorite launching himself like a dart onto the monster behind the mask. Cortez gets to his feet first, naturally, and works the crowd for a moment or two while Carnage tries to shake the dizziness away. Todd reaches down and pulls the masked man up ,but Carnage bursts up towards him, pushing him backwards and slamming the small of his back into the ring apron. Carnage then takes Cortez and puts him up on the apron, shoving him back into the ring under the bottom rope before coming back into the squared circle himself. Now it's Cortez who finds himself being pulled up to his feet, and then colliding hard with the turnbuckles, as Carnage sends him into the corner, and then follows up with a running splash that squashes the Urban Legend! "Did you see the way the ring shook on that one!?" Carnage leads Cortez out of the corner, then shoves him backwards, causing him to once again crash hard into the turnbuckles. Cortez stumbles out of the corner, walking right into the large, waiting arms of his foe, as Carnage wraps them both around Cortez and squeezes hard, not as a sign of affection but rather as a possible submission, as the large arms clamped around Cortez form a bearhug that puts more pressure on the bruised back of the Hardcore Champion! "Ask and ye shall recieve, Flesher! Carnage is heeding the words of Tom Flesher tonight, and is going to force this little ruffian into submission!" "That little ruffian can hold his own quite well, King. Don't count him out just yet." Harding watches intently, as the fans keep their eyes on the action as well. Cortez's grunts reflect his agony as Carnage squeezes him like a Florida orange, trying to force out every last drop of juice. Cortez starts weakening, his body going limp, and as a last ditch effort he boxes the ears of Carnage, which stun the big man, but not enough for him to break. He squeezes harder, and Cortez shouts out in pain again, before taking his arms and slapping them across either side of Carnage's head, getting him to break the hold as he holds his head in pain. Cortez falls to a knee as he's released, and quickly gets up and moves for Carnage...who spins back around and catches Cortez with one arm, lifting him up off his feet and driving him to the mat with a spinning side slam! “Haha, I love it, Pete. Cortez just got put on his back quicker than a two dollar hooker in Amsterdam!” Carnage pulls a leg up, holding Cortez down for the pin, while Harding comes down and counts the fall. ONE! TW-KICKOUT! As soon as the shoulder is thrown up, Carnage makes his way to his feet, dragging Cortez up with him…then nails the Urban Legend and puts him back on the canvas courtesy of a vicious standing lariat! Cortez folds over as he crashes onto the canvas, and the impact of that maneuver serves as a nice lead-in to the repeated stomps that follow from the irate big man. “Back him off, Harding! That’s not what I’d call pure wrestling!” The official does admonish Carnage, however he merely brushes the diminutive official away as Cortez is again led to his feet, and backed into the ropes. Carnage pins him up against the ropes, leaning him against them as he takes his thick forearm and clubs Cortez across the sternum, knocking the wind out of him! Cortez tries to inch away, but Carnage takes him by the arm and sends him across the ring, ducking his head in order to elevate Cortez on the rebound…but Todd brings up his leg, smashing the instep of his foot into Carnage’s nose! Carnage stumbles back, and Cortez takes a deep breath before shuffling forward with a superkick…that gets caught! Carnage spins Cortez around and grabs him by the waist before lifting him for a back suplex…that Cortez floats through, landing on his feet behind Carnage! The angry hoss turns around, looking for his quicker rival, and once he turns his head towards Cortez… CRACK! …he’s met with a superkick, the ball of Cortez’s foot smashing into his jaw! Carnage falls away, his fall broken only by his ability to lean against the ropes, as the fans cheer wildly for Cortez’s persistence in taking it to his intimidating opponent. Cortez approaches Carnage before he can come to, however the big man acts fast, backdropping Cortez over the ropes…only to have him land on the apron! Cortez quickly runs up the ropes and balances on the top turnbuckle, as Carnage staggers away from the ropes, again unaware of where his opponent has gone to. By the time he realizes it, Cortez is soaring through the air, heading toward Carnage with body extended, taking him out with a bodypress… …BUT GETS CAUGHT AND POWERSLAMMED TO THE CANVAS! “Good lord! Cortez almost journeyed to the center of the Earth after that thunderous slam!” Carnage rolls off his foe, regaining some composure as he knows he’s just bought himself a moment or two. Cortez looks up at the lights, not enjoying being crushed under the weight of Carnage with such velocity. Seeing both men down, and showing concern for their favorite, the Buffalo crowd stops and claps in a rally, doing their best to encourage the Urban Legend to come to first. “LET’S GO COR-TEZ” clap clap clapclapclap “LET’S GO COR-TEZ” clap clap clapclapclap The Urban Legend replies to the crowd by rolling over onto his stomach, and begins to push himself up on all fours just as Carnage sits up. Referee Harding, who had reached the count of four during the standard ten count, backs away and watches as both men get to their feet…and Carnage once again regains the advantage by pulling Cortez towards him and bringing a knee up into his gut, then follows up this time with a thunderous suplex that shakes the ring and puts Cortez right back on the canvas! “I’ll give credit where credit is due, Carnage has been most impressive when most thought he’d be out of his element!” “And I’ve got to say I’m highly unimpressed with Cortez. This is the man who’s proudly representing our hardcore division? This is the man who forged the uprising known as Martial Law? Please.” As King talks trash about the Hardcore Champion, Cortez again finds himself led up off the canvas, this time pulled across the ring by Carnage before having his face mashed into the top turnbuckle! Carnage then props Cortez against the corner, leaving him exposed for an onslaught, and rams a pair of back elbows into his chin, staggering the Hispanic superstar. Carnage takes Cortez’s left arm and sends him across the ring, with Cortez feeling a jolt up his spine as he collides once again with the corner. He slumps down, looking too weary to fight back as Carnage charges like a freight train…RIGHT INTO A BOOT! Carnage staggers away as Cortez props himself up on the second rope, and pulls Carnage back closer to him, wrapping an arm around his head and leaping off the second rope, pulling Carnage down with…NO! Carnage shoves Cortez off, deflecting the Tornado DDT attempt, and bolts forward with arm swinging…LARIAT…DUCKED! Cortez ducks under the shot and leaps back up to the second rope, his back to his opponent, before leaping off and rotating in midair, cracking Carnage across his mask hidden face with an enzugiri kick that brings him down! “Cortez is on fire and means bid’ness!” The HSBC Arena comes alive as Cortez mounts his comeback, pulling Carnage up and ramming HIS head into the turnbuckle, before setting him up in the corner and then blocking him in by standing on the ropes. With Carnage dazed, Cortez raises a fist to the crowd, signaling for the traditional babyface ten punch count-along…but Harding waves a finger at Cortez, and says that he’s not going to allow any closed fists! The body language of the official is picked up on by the crowd, who begin to slightly boo Harding…until Cortez draws their attention by paintbrushing Carnage across the face multiple times! “He’s taunting Carnage? He must have a death wish!” After slapping Carnage silly, Cortez hops down and mockingly reminds Harding that no closed fists were used, then darts for his foe, driving the wind out of him as he hits a running shoulderblock to his gut! Carnage hunches over, and Cortez drags him out of the corner, only to knock him for a loop with a European uppercut! Cortez quickly follows up with an Irish whip, and as Carnage rebounds, Cortez runs to the opposite ropes and meets his opponent in center ring with a jumping back elbow that puts him down on the mat! Cortez gets to his feet, and with his foe downed behind him, executes a crisp standing moonsault, crashing across the upper body of Carnage, before getting to his feet, hopping over Carnage’s body and moving out to the apron, where he looks around for the approval of the audience before entering the ring again, courtesy of a springboard legdrop that keeps Carnage down! ONE! TWO! KICKOUT! Harding nearly has Cortez thrown on top of him, as Carnage shows off his power by pressing the Urban Legend up off of him. Cortez pushes himself up, turning just as Carnage sits up on the canvas, and spins around with leg extended, cracking Carnage between the shoulder blades with a roundhouse kick that echoes throughout the city of Buffalo! Carnage cringes, but then powers through with his own adrenaline burst, getting himself together and coming up off the mat. He turns to face his foe, and Cortez unleashes another kick, aiming for the side of the big man’s head…only to have his foot caught by Carnage! Carnage quickly tugs on the leg, pulling Cortez towards him and grasping his throat with his free hand, preparing to chokeslam Cortez to hell…until the Urban Legend elbows his way out of it! Cortez then runs the ropes, and charges towards Carnage, ready to bowl him over…THEN GETS HIS FACE MASHED BY THE BOOT OF CARNAGE! “The big man with a big boot, and Todd Cortez better have a hell of a dental plan!” Carnage runs his hands through his stringy hair, pushing the dangling portions out of his eyes as he reaches down and scoops Cortez up, slinging him across his shoulders. Carnage then walks to the turnbuckles, turning so that Todd’s head hangs over the top turnbuckle, and then shoves him off his shoulders, dropping Cortez face first down on the padded steel! Cortez reels, and walks right back into Carnage’s arms, who puts him back up across his shoulders and walks forward a few steps, making sure he has enough space before jumping backwards and pancaking Cortez against the canvas with a Samoan Drop! Rather than go for a pin, Carnage drags Cortez away from the ropes and rolls him onto his stomach, then stands over him and reaches down, pulling his head back and executing some vicious crossface shots that send spit flying from the mouth of the Hardcore Champion. Carnage then lets Todd’s head flop back to the canvas as he leans down, sitting on Cortez’s back, and then grabbing the head again, going for his signature Camel Clutch! Carnage yanks back on Cortez’s head, and the Urban Legend begins to squirm, knowing exactly what his foe is trying to do. Thinking quickly, Cortez swings his legs out from under Carnage, escaping the Camel Clutch predicament, but now finding himself caught in a wrenching chinlock, with the knee of Carnage planted firmly between his shoulder blades! “Aww, look at the great escape artist! Didn’t work out the way he planned now did it?” Harding crouches over the two combatants, looking at the wear on Cortez’s face and asking if submission is in his vocabulary tonight. Cortez slightly shakes his head, moving it as much as he can in order to express he’s not going to quit. Carnage pulls back on his head further, drilling the knee into his upper back, but still Cortez will not quit, even as Harding pesters him again. “LET’S GO COR-TEZ!” clap clap clapclapclap “LET’S GO COR-TEZ!” clap clap clapclapclap The chant goes up again, and Cortez hears it, trying to channel the crowd adrenaline through his own body to combat this behemoth tonight. Carnage wrenches the head of the Hardcore superstar, but Cortez grips his wrists, and slowly tries to pry apart Carnage’s grip on him. Carnage quickly stands up, so that as Cortez holds onto his wrists, he’s standing over Cortez, and lifts his boot to squash Cortez’s head like a pumpkin…but the Urban Legend rolls out of the way at the last second! Todd pulls himself up with the aid of the ropes, as the fans cheer loudly, watching as Carnage comes and takes Cortez, sending him to the far side…NO! Cortez counters, and yanks Carnage towards him, grabbing him by the waist and hoisting the big man up before dropping him with an inverted atomic drop! “He just got the big man off his feet!” “At the expense of his injured back, no less!” King correctly points out that Cortez is hunched over, as if he’s thrown his back out trying to wear the giant down. Carnage recovers before Cortez, taking him by the straps of his wifebeater and hurling him over the top rope…BUT CORTEZ HANGS ON AND SKINS THE CAT! He lands safely back in the ring, or so he thought, as he’s snared in a rear waistlock, but feverishly fires back his elbow to break! Carnage staggers, and Cortez quickly hits the ropes that run sideways, rebounding off and leaping towards Carnage horizontally, like a heat seeking missle that explodes on impact with the ribs of Carnage! “Cortez’s variation of The Pounce, which I understand he’s dubbed the Hollow Point, connects!” “The Hollow Point? The only thing hollow about that kid is his head!” Carnage falls off to the side, again caught by the ropes, which send him back up on his feet, just in time to walk into a well placed boot, and a DDT from the Urban Legend! “If Carnage’s head wasn’t hollow, it ought to be now after having it spiked with such force just then!” Cortez, knowing a DDT won’t be enough to keep someone as resilient as Carnage down, opts not to go for a pin, but instead to follow up his momentum. He heads for the ropes, and a pop comes up from the crowd upon the sight of the daredevil superstar heading for higher ground. With Carnage down, Cortez keeps his focus on him, measuring him up like an assassin about to make a kill, then springs off the ropes and into the air, rotating 450 degrees with flashbulbs blinking off in the background, all able to catch him coming down with a 450 legdrop… …THAT MISSES! “Todd Cortez, a gambling man is something you should not be! High risk just doesn’t have the reward you seek!” The crowd “ooh’s” as Cortez reels, his tailbone nearly shattered upon impact, as Carnage was able to roll out of the way of the high risk maneuver just in time. Cortez gets up, but as he does he’s yanked between the legs of Carnage, as the big man sets him up in a standing headscissors before pulling him up onto his shoulders…AND CORTEZ ROLLS OVER HIS BACK WITH A SUNSET FLIP! “C’mon Todd!” Cortez struggles, as he tugs at the tree trunk legs of Carnage, trying to roll him up for the pin…but then finds himself pulled up in front of Carnage, as the monster takes Cortez by the throat and violently yanks him off the canvas and back to a standing base before delivering a boot to the gut and picking him up…TOMBSTOME PILEDRIVER COMING UP! “If this hits, it’s all over!” “You mean WHEN this hits!” Cortez is draped over the right shoulder of Carnage, as the beast tries to position him for the devastating piledriver…however Cortez squirms again, trying to use his speed and small stature to avoid certain defeat! He slides off Carnage’s shoulder and onto his back, but cradles Carnage with a leg grapevine, and grabs him in an inverted facelock…TODD CORTEZ IS LOCKING ON THE STREET DREAMS! CARNAGE HAS NOWHERE TO GO! “HE COUNTERED! KING, HE COUNTERED!” “No he didn’t! He’ll never be able to get him to quit!” Carnage hobbles on spaghetti legs, having to support the weight of Cortez on his back as he’s being worn down with the patented sleeperhold that has won Cortez numerous contests. Carnage reaches up, trying to find something to get ahold of where he can snapmare Cortez off his back, but can’t manage to capture the superstar in his grip. Desperately, he runs backwards, nearly falling over in the process as he crashes into the corner, smashing Cortez in…NO! Cortez kicks his legs out, pushing off the ropes and spinning around, turning his Street Dreams attempt into a reverse Tornado DDT! “I don’t believe it! I’ve never seen anything like it!” “You don’t ask for much, do you Pete?” Cortez sits up, listening as the fans roar for him to put an end to this match. With Carnage down and not going anywhere, Cortez rolls him onto his stomach, taking a minute to catch his breath and soak in the crowd adulation before dropping to his knees and pinning Carnage’s shoulders down with them! “The Hook-Up! He’s going for his other submission move!” Cortez presses his knees hard into Carnage’s shoulderblades, and the big man doesn’t mutter a grunt or a reply of any kind, as he’s in a fog thanks to the impact of that reverse DDT. Cortez reaches back and pulls the left leg up first, then the right, bending them over his own shoulders and forcing the knees of Carnage to protrude as much as the skin will let them without having them pop out of his body! “TAP!” “TAP!” “TAP!” A familiar chant is now brought up, as the fans egg Carnage on to spare himself and quit before Cortez can cause him any more suffering. Harding now questions Carnage about his predicament, asking him how he feels, and gets an angry growl in reply! Carnage grunts and groans, trying to shift his body out of the submission, but Cortez leans forward even more, bringing both of his knees down harded into Carnage’s shoulders, as well as putting more strain on the legs of the beast! With nowhere to go and the future looking bleak, Carnage lets out an angry war cry, the most emotion he’s shown in this contest, as Harding asks him again… …AND HE SAYS HE GIVES! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAH!” Harding leaps up and waves for the bell to be rung, as Cortez releases the Hook-Up and falls off to the side. Carnage lays with his face buried in the canvas, as Harding comes and helps Cortez to his feet, raising his hand in victory once the Urban Legend is standing up. FUNYON Ladies and gentlemen, your winner…the Urban Legend, TODDDDDDD CORRRRRRTEZZZZZZZ! The fans rejoice as “Breathe” comes over the PA system to signal the victory of the Martial Law member. Cortez is handed his Hardcore belt by Funyon, and promptly climbs up onto the ropes and displays it for all to see, as he pounds at his heart and points out to the fans that have taken him in as a crowd favorite. “You wanna talk about pure wrestling, well that’s pure wrestling talent right there, brother! Tom Flesher should be pleased! The Hardcore Champion showed some tremendous resilience tonight, as well as why he's regarded as one of the most diverse and innovative stars in the game today! In the end he brought the monster down, and he did it damn well too! “Stop being so biased, Pete. The kid caught a lucky break, you know with this whole “pure wrestling” jazz. Put him in Carnage’s element, in a REAL hardcore contest, you’ll be singing a different tune.” “Not so sure about that King, I mean Carnage was one of the men Cortez defeated to win that very belt.” “Details, details…” “Folks, we’ve had quite the interesting night thus far, and it looks to be continuing after the break. With whom or what I can’t quite say, as we’ve learned to expect the unexpected around these parts. So get on up and get your popcorn and sodas, and join us in three after these words from our sponsors!”

“No fancy talk, no flash, nothing in the ring. Not just yet. No, this is truly personal. It needs to be said, but not before tens of thousands of fans. Just before the one camera, just to let everyone know...” Dace speaks slowly, staring straight into the camera infront of him. Somewhere, backstage in the HSBC Arena, Dace Night speaks for the first time about his return to the SWF. “It was all so planned, for such much, all together. Genesis Five was coming up. I look a few shows off, to do things. I got married at last..” Dace holds his left hand up to the camera, a thick band of gold around his finger, just to prove the fact. “It was about time, it wouldn’t matter what happened at Genesis, the night would just be another celebration win or lose. But, but not everything can go to plan.” Shaking his head, Dace leans closer into the camera, his eyes cold and flaring. No mistake in what burns behind him. “I was asked to wrestle back in the UK. One show, a tribute show. And I did, because I don’t forget my roots, I respect my past. It’s something I’m proud of. But what happens, what bloody happens? Some stupid tosser said the show and it’s hardcore matches violated athletic laws and every one of us gets arrested and locked up!” Almost growl, Dace flexes his shoulders and snaps his neck, body bulging with power and remembered rage. “It’s only a few days, till we where released and fined...but still....you try getting back into America after something like that. Not going to happen at all. So I had to sit on my ass...well no, I had to do other things, to miss Genesis Five and months of the SWF before I could come back. I haven’t wasted my time, toured the UK again and stuck it to the police, but still...too long away, much to long.” Leaning back away from the screen once again, Dace seems to settle back, half smiling slowly to himself. “So now, so now, I’m back while my damn Visa allows it. So I’m going to settle something, even if they never allow me back to wrestle in the US again. I’m not going to fade into the night. Maybe I can’t become the SWF World Champion now, maybe I’ll join a list of those people that never won it, never held that great belt. So it that case, I’m just going to have to settle something with some cock prick that needs his ego deflating. Toxxic, you better hope Landon wants to give me some title shots, otherwise I might get bored. And have to kill you.” Fade out.

The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation presents... SWF SMARKDOWN, MONDAY, JANUARY 10th, LIVE FROM THE HSBC ARENA IN BUFFALO, NEW YORK! (5:00pm PDT, 8:00pm EDT; check local listings) With Tom Flesher’s opening promo behind us, the card has been revealed – nothing hardcore, nothing weird, just a night of pure wrestling! The other agents can screw with Lockdown and Storm all they want, but Flesher’s in charge of Smarkdown! MAIN EVENT TAG TEAM MATCH (NON-TITLE) Wild and Dangerous (Wildchild and Johnny Dangerous) © vs. The Royal Order -> The team of Dominic Korgath and Max King, with the lovely Kelly, can’t seem to buy a win, but Tom sees their raw talent and wants to give them a chance to impress him! Rules: Standard tag rules. Use the tag ropes! Word Limit: 6000 USJL TITLE MATCH Sean Davis © vs. Manson ~ Manson won a shot. Flesher’s giving it to him. No big whoop. Rules: Standard. Word Limit: 4500 CRUISERWEIGHT MATCH (NON-TITLE) “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins © vs. Kaine ~ No love lost between these two! Let’s get it on! Rules: 20-count on the outside, and throwing the opponent over the top rope is disqualifiable. Otherwise, standard. Word Limit: 4000 PURE WRESTLING MATCH Sacred v. Alan Clark ~ Why? Because I’ll enjoy it, that’s fucking why. Rules: 20-count on the outside. Three rope breaks per wrestler. A wrestler loses a rope break when he uses the ropes to break a hold or pin or when he uses a closed fist. If a wrestler loses all three rope breaks and tries to break a hold or pin, wrestling continues as if he were not on the ropes. If he throws a punch and has no rope breaks left, he is disqualified. Otherwise, standard. Word Limit: 5000 CURTAIN JERK-O-RAMA! Carnage v. Todd Cortez ~ A former Russian heavyweight who’s mooning over a little Asian girl. An urban streetfighter who really cares about the hardcore title. Man, talk about misplaced priorities – we can cure this, gentlemen. Rules: Standard. Word Limit: 4500 All this plus more, coming up after this commercial break!

Mmm, intrigue. Mmm, concept show. There's plenty of hints on the boards as to what's going to happen. Look at Sarah's promo, for example...

The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation presents... SWF LOCKDOWN, WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 5th, LIVE FROM THE VERIZON WIRELESS ARENA IN MANCHESTER, NEW HAMPSHIRE! (5:00pm PDT, 8:00pm EDT; check local listings) Send marked matches, promos, etc. to Ace309 Hey, guess who lives in New Hampshire! I do! After all the shit going down over Christmas break and at Slay Ride, FINALLY it gets back to where it really counts -- the squared circle. The Suicide King and Longdogger Pete will be presenting all the fallout from Slay Ride, including Landon Maddix's incredible title win and the flip-flopping of the HCG and USJL titles! What will Toxxic say? Opening Promo: Landon Maddix SWF WORLD TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIPS TAG TEAM MATCH Revolution Zero (Toxxic & Sean Davis, SWF Tag Team Champions) v. Wild and Dangerous (Wildchild and Johnny Dangerous) -> You know it, baby! Wildchild and Johnny Dangerous made their triumphant return towards the end of 2004, ending the year with a triumphant victory over Max King and Dominic Korgath to secure #1 contendership to the SWF World Tag Team Championships! People have said that it's inevitable, that it's destiny for Wild and Dangerous to come back and win the tag championships -- but if Sean Davis and Toxxic have their way, that destiny's going to have to be put on hold! Rules: Standard tag rules. Have fun with the tag ropes. Word Limit: 6500 Marker: Ace309 SINGLES MATCH Manson v. "Hollywood" Spike Jenkins -> How many times has this match happened? Yeah, that's what I thought. SWF, SJL, these two have brawled way too many times for me to discuss in depth here, so we'll say that whoever wins will get some sort of title shot in the next three shows and leave it at that. No, I'm not kidding. Rules: Standard singles rules. Word Limit: 4500 Marker: Chuck Woolery TAG MATCH Martial Law (Alan Clark and "Urban Legend" Todd Cortez) v. "The Icon" Max King and Dominic Korgath -> Let's get some order in the tag ranks, shall we? Weeks ago, Cortez and Clark aligned with the NEW SWF World Heavyweight Champion, Landon Maddix, to form Martial Law, a stable designed to swing the balance of power from Revolution Zero. Thus far they're on the right track, but in this match the newly formed team of King and Korgath look to derail them! (As a side note,KKK would be such an awesome name for you guys; King, Korgath and Kelly. Think about that one.) Anyway, this match should establish who's for real and who's for... fake in the tag division, so let's stop being polite and let's start getting real! Rules: Standard tag rules. Word Limit: 5000 Marker: Justice SEVEN MINUTE CHALLENGE MATCH WORLD TITLE NOT ON THE LINE Landon "La Cucaracha" Maddix v. Sacred -> Yes, this is our opening match. Sacred, the perennial World title contender, lost to Landon in the finals of the Cold Front Classic tournament, and we all know what Maddix has done since then. Now, however, Sacred has a chance to make up for that. If he can go seven minutes with Landon Maddix without being pinned, he'll receive a World title shot on the 1/14 edition of Storm. If he somehow scores a victory over Landon in that seven minutes, he gets to name a stip, too. Whereas if Landon can win in seven minutes, he gets to take a breather until a Clusterfuck defence. Sounds like fun? You know it. Rules: DQs and countouts are in effect. There is a seven minute time limit on the match. Word Limit: 4000 Marker: chirs3 Plus: Everyone who's not booked better have a promo about how they intend to win Clusterfuck! Yeah, you heard me! Munich, Mak Francis, Carnage... all this and more... on LOCKDOWN.

Tennessee's bouncing back next year, at least 8-8 with that schedule, and with Fisher's coaching through the offseason I could see it going higher.

Well, at least one incarnation of the Titans made the playoffs...

Alas, no I don't. If Jacksonville makes the stop here and Oakland only gets a field goal, then I clinch.

Bump.

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