Kaertos

SWF Lockdown fades back in from commercial, the cameras coming back to life with a wide shot of the sold out arena that hosts the latest edition of SWF action. The cameras zoom in on the crowd, panning over the sea of faces and signs that populate the arena, all of them buzzing with excitement at the show they have seen so far and ready and eager for more. The cameras eventually switch back to the announcers table revealing the one and only Cyclone Comet and his partner Bobby Riley, ready as ever to continue calling the action. “Hello Citizens and welcome back to SWF Lockdown! If you’ve just tuned in you’ve missed some great matches tonight but we still have lots more to come!” Cries Comet, greeting the viewers once again with customary gusto. “Indeed we do, and those of you too lazy to tune in earlier are just in time to watch the second hardcore match of the night! And considering who’s involved we should probably tell the technical guys to have a mop and a bucket ready.” “Sound advice Robert. Citizen’s Aecas and Sacred are both champions in their own right, Citizen Aecas is our new Hardcore champion and Citizen Sacred has only tightened his grip on the USJL Title!” “Though both of these men are champions they’re competing in a non title match tonight. But both of these men have had new contenders for their belts decided tonight. Spike Jenkins and Johnny Dangerous fought for the right to challenge Sacred, while Toxxic and Jacob Helmsley fought in another Hardcore match earlier this evening.” “And that’s not all, we still have two title matches to come on the show! Citizen Wildchild defending his Light Heavyweight Title once again and Citizen Matthews will defend his Intercontinental Title against Citizen West!” “Not to mention that weird Mouse Trap match Comet.” “Indeed Robert. We’ve had a multitude of entertaining matches so far and now its time to sit back and watch another!” Almost on cue the arena goes completely pitch black, a graveyard bell ringing ominously as the cheers of the fans echo around the arena before a deep voice reverberates through the arena speakers. "Are you scared?" "He's here..........." Dark Funeral's “Dead Skin Mask” blasts out from the arena speakers as red lights begin to strobe around the arena, like an alarm system gone wrong - or a system that is warning of imminent carnage. Thick smoke boils up from the entranceway, filling the air and carpeting the floor, a blood red spotlight picks out Aecas as he stands deep in the depths of the smoke, an eerie silhouette will a large staff in one hand and the Hardcore Title belted around his waist. Aecas raises the staff high above his head, a long wicked blade snaps forth from the staff to the cheers of the crowd. The Black Angel grins widely before moving back into the entrance way and pulling out a trolley full of weaponry to another loud pop from the fans. Aecas starts to walk down the aisle pulling the trolley with him as he carries his Scythe on one shoulder, his dead eyes staring down at the ring as Funyon raises his microphone to his lips. Ladies and Gentlemen! The following match will be conducted under Hardcore rules! Introducing first! From Shrewsbury, England! Weighing 315lbs! He is the SWF Hardcore Champion! THE BLACK ANGEL! AECAS!!!!!!!!!! Aecas halts on the outside of the ring, staring up at Funyon for a few moments before he grins dropping his Scythe and grabbing the trolley, the Black Angel hefts the trolley for a moment before tossing it effortlessly over the top rope, sliding into the ring as the metal crashes onto the canvas. Aecas slowly starts to get back up to his feet as the Smarktron begins to flicker, the image of Aecas standing in the ring breaking up as the picture goes to static the fans beginning to boo loudly as Andrew Blackwell’s voice comes over the speakers. "There is nothing wrong with your television set.“ “Do not attempt to adjust the picture." “I will control the horizontal.” “I will control the vertical.” “I am controlling transmission." Abruptly the picture returns to normal as Sacred makes his appearance, the arena lights dimming down as spotlights are activated, following the Sacred One down the aisle as Lycia’s “Tainted” plays over the speakers trying to make itself heard above the rising boos of the crowd. “And his opponent! Weighing 216lbs! And hailing from Adelaide, Australia! He is the USJL Champion! SACRED!!!!!!!!!” Funyon quickly exits the ring after making his last announcement as the boos of the fans only increase in number and volume as Sacred nears the ring, Aecas watches his opponent approach for a few moments before he to steps out of the ring, unstrapping the Hardcore title from his waist and tossing it towards the Time Keepers table before searching under the ring. Sacred strides down the aisle, leaping up onto the apron and stepping through the ropes and into the ring, The Sacred One tears off the USJL title and holds it high for a long moment ignoring the boos and jeers of the fans before he too tosses the belt towards the Time Keepers table turning and looking to the outside at his opponent. Aecas pulls several steel chairs out from beneath the ring, hurling them into the squared circle one after the other, a table appears next to a huge pop from the fans quickly followed by a barbed wire board that gets an even louder pop as he positions it on top of the table. The Black Angel finally turns his attention back to Sacred who stoops and picks up one of the steel chairs, holding it loosely in one hand and beckoning to the giant. Aecas grins at his opponent before he slides into the ring and charges at Sacred. “Citizen Aecas isn’t going to wait for the bell!” “And Here we go!” Aecas slides to his feet and lunges at his opponent but as quick as the Black Angel is the Sacred One is much faster, ducking under a huge clothesline attempt and whipping around as Aecas rebounds off of the ropes. Sacred rears back and throws the chair straight into Aecas’ face, the metal seat cracking off the giants forehead and stopping his charge in its tracks, sending him staggering back against the ropes. Sacred keeps the momentum going, rushing across the ring to the corner the Sacred One leaps onto the second rope, springboarding himself backwards. Sacred twists his body in mid air as he flies back into the ring, both boots connecting squarely with Aecas’ chin, knocking the giant sideways and into the other corner as Eddy Long finally signals for the bell. DING! DING! DING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! “And Citizen Sacred is starting this match off quickly and painfully!” “Against Aecas its speed that’s going to count in this match. Not to mention all the weapons that are available tonight, Aecas is going to have a hard job beating Sacred, and vice versa, neither man wants to walk out of there a loser tonight!” Sacred quickly picks himself up and is instantly back on the offensive, leaping forwards and smashing a Superkick into the chin of the Black Angel snapping his head back and making him stumble out of the corner clutching his jaw. The Sacred One wastes no time, rushing to the corner he grabs the ropes with both hands, leaping onto the second rope Sacred uses the momentum to spring up to the top catapulting himself off of the top rope and back into the ring once again. Aecas turns around just in time to see a 216 pound missile come flying at him as Sacred takes the Black Angel down to the canvas with a perfect Crossbody, the Sacred One wastes no time in hooking one of Aecas’ massive legs as he goes for an early pin. “Beautiful High Crossbody off of the top by Citizen Sacred!” “He’s trying to put Aecas away early!” ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! … … … TW……… Aecas easily kicks out before Long’s hand can smack the canvas for two, sending Sacred tumbling off of him as he quickly starts to get back up to his feet. The Sacred One is also quick to get back up, and even quicker to plan his next move, rushing to the nearest corner and quickly scaling the turnbuckles once again. “Citizen Sacred is going to have to do more than that to keep Citizen Aecas down for three.” “Yes he is Comet but he’s speeding up the pace of this match, and he looks set to continue his aerial assault!” Sacred waits for Aecas to turn around, leaping off of the turnbuckle when the giant finally obliges diving feet first for his huge opponent only to be denied as the Black Angel swats his feet away leaving him nothing but a hard landing on the canvas. Before the Sacred One can get his bearing Aecas is on top of him, two massive arms wrapping around the waist of his opponent heaving him backwards and off of his feet with a huge German Suplex. Aecas releases his grip at the apex of the Suplex sending Sacred sailing backwards to land on his head and shoulders, the momentum flipping the Sacred One head over heels and slamming him back down onto his stomach. “Citizen Sacred didn’t catch Citizen Aecas napping that time!” “And this is where Sacred is going to get into trouble, Aecas has got a chance to slow the pace down now, and if he does that then Sacred could soon be in a world of hurt unless he can speed things up again.” Aecas is once again quickly on top of Sacred as the smaller man starts getting back to his feet a little groggy from the huge Suplex, the Black Angel wraps one huge arm around the head of the Sacred One grabbing his tights with his other. Aecas pauses for a second before lifting his opponent high into the air and dropping him back down to the canvas in one smooth fluid motion, driving Sacred’s head and shoulders into the canvas for a second time. “Evenflow Brainbuster! Citizen Aecas is starting to get some flow of his own!” “And now he’s going for the trolley! Its time to break out the toys!” Aecas moves over to the metal trolley reaching into its innards and pulling out a stack of light tubes to a roar of approval from the crowd, the Black Angel drops several of the tubes bunching two in his fist and moving over to the Sacred One who is doggedly getting back up to his feet. Aecas waits until Sacred looks up at him before he smashes the light tubes down on his opponents unprotected head, breaking the tubes in half and sending shattered glass scattering across the ring. The fans roar as Sacred slumps back down to the canvas, both hands clutching at his forehead as Aecas tosses away the broken stubs of the light tubes grinning as the fans pop loudly as he draws first blood. Aecas quickly steps through the ring ropes and drops to the outside, the Black Angel crouches and reaches under the ring once more, searching for a few moments before he drags out a long metal section of guardrail. The giant hefts the metal before he slings it into the ring, narrowly missing the Sacred One before he bends down and retrieves another pair of chairs that quickly follow the guardrail. “Aecas tossing a length of guardrail into he ring now; God only knows what he plans to do with that. “I don’t think anybody knows what goes through this mans mind Robert.” “Shards of glass will be going through it in a moment! Sacred is back up and he’s got the light tubes!” Aecas slides back into the ring standing up just in time to take a full fist of light tubes right to the face! The Black Angel staggers backwards into the corner, blood welling up from a myriad of cuts that now decorate his face, the giant’s blank eyes glare out from his bloody face, a grin starting to curl his mouth upwards as Sacred quickly grabs another chair. The Sacred One hefts the steel and charges at his giant opponent, the chair coming up as he moves before smashing down at the cornered Black Angel. The chair crashes down on an empty turnbuckle as Aecas lurches out of the corner at the last second, rushing across the ring and rebounding off the ropes. The Sacred One hefts the chair for a second time and rushes to meet his charging opponent, raising the chair once more to smash it into the face of his opponent. This time however luck is not with Sacred as the Black Angel’s right foot comes up, smacking the chair into his opponent’s bloody face and smashing the Sacred One from his feet. Ignoring his opponent momentarily Aecas grabs the fallen chairs and begins to set them up in a rectangular shape before hefting the guardrail and laying it across the open chairs, keeping the metal supported a foot off of the canvas. “What on earth is Citizen Aecas trying to orchestrate here?” “Nothing good for Sacred Comet that’s for sure.” Back in the ring Aecas returns his attention back to his opponent, who is starting to get back up despite the hard chair shot he just endured, this seems to suit the giants plans just fine as he pushes Sacred back into the corner, getting under his smaller opponent and lifting him up to sit on the top turnbuckle. Aecas quickly follows his opponent, climbing up the turnbuckle and wrapping one arm around Sacred’s head as he continues to move up the corner, taking his opponent with him. Both men make their way up standing precariously on the top rope for a moment before Aecas heaves his opponent up into the air, both men making a vertical tower on the top rope before they both plummet backwards right into the ring and right ONTO the suspended guardrail! “OOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! “Superplex right on that guardrail!” “You have to question the mentality of somebody who does a move like that Comet! He just hurt himself as much as he hurt Sacred! Aecas slowly rolls over after the huge impact; the guardrail bent in the center from the combined weight of both men as they crashed through it, the Black Angel drapes an arm over the chest of the Sacred One trying for a pinfall. ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! … … … … TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! … … … … TWO AND A HALF!!!!!!!! … … … … KICKOUT! “And there’s another problem right there, it took a lot out of both men but it still wasn’t enough to keep Sacred down, Aecas is going to have to come up with something more effective than that!!” “A valid point Robert, but both men are already stirring from that hellish impact with the guardrail. As you said it’s going to take more than that to put away Sacred.” Aecas rolls off of the damaged guardrail, slowly getting back up to his feet, an action mirrored by the Sacred One, the Black Angel shoves the guardrails towards the ring apron with one foot as he starts to advance once again on the champion. The giant grabs the right arm of the Sacred One, Irish Whipping him across the length of the ring into the ropes, Aecas standing his ground as Sacred rebounds and charges back towards him. Aecas’ hands shoot out, grabbing the Sacred One under the arms and hoisting him high up into the air looking for the Descent into Darkness Powerbomb. The USJL champion has other ideas however as his legs quickly wrap around the head of the Black Angel, Sacred quickly throws all his weight backwards, the sudden shift in weight taking his huge opponent clean off his feet and driving him back down to the canvas. “And the Citizen Sacred blocks the Descent Into Darkness and comes back with a huge Hurracarana!” “He’s got to speed up the pace again Comet, and he’s got to do it now!” The Sacred One is quickly back on his feet grabbing the remaining light tubes and piling them on top of the Black Angel’s chest before grabbing one of the chairs that now populate the ring. The Sacred One cracks the downed Aecas solidly on the head with the chair, the giant’s body convulsing from the impact, pausing only to readjust some of the light tubes that fell away from the Black Angel’s chest Sacred opens the chair and places it down facing away from the ropes. Sacred quickly backs up several paces before running straight for the chair using the steel to boost himself into the air as he leap up to the top rope, springboarding himself back into the ring and landing stomach first on his opponent shattering the light tubes and driving the glass deep into both Aecas and himself. “OOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” “What a sadomasochistic move by Citizen Sacred!” “Sometimes the road to success demands sacrifice Comet! And that Triple Jump Moonsault may be all he needs to finish this!” “This is horrible Robert! There’s glass sticking out of both of them!” Aecas lays stock still, only the rise and fall of his now bloody chest giving any indication that he’s alive at all, after what seems like hours from his point of view, the Sacred One sucks it up, dragging himself forwards and laying an arm across the massive chest of his opponent. ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! … … … … TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! … … … … TWO AND A HALF!!!!!!!! … … … … TWO AND THREE QUARTERS!!!!!!!!! … … … … KICKOUT! Aecas still manages a strong kickout, knocking his opponent off of him, the Black Angel slowly gets up to one knee a hand dragging over his chest, as he brushes away some of the glass shards that now decorate his skin, his face twisted in a worrying combination of pleasure and pain as Sacred rolls unnoticed out of the ring. “This is not a good sign for Sacred not only could he not make the pinfall quick enough, he couldn’t even hook a leg! That kind of oversight could cost him if he’s not careful.” “A valid point Robert, both of these men have been beating the living daylights out of one another and Citizen Sacred does not seem short of ideas tonight either! With one hand still clutching his chest the Sacred One crouches down, searching underneath the ring for yet another weapon, dragging out the long recognizable shape of a ladder from beneath the ring, to the delight of the crowd. “And now Citizen Sacred is bringing a ladder into this match! This environment just got a lot more dangerous for both men!” Sacred drags the ladder into a vertical position setting it up right next to the ring as Aecas slowly begins to get back up to his feet searching for his opponent, the Sacred One scales the ladder quickly, perching on the top two rungs above the top rope of the ring as he waits for the right moment. Sacred tenses as Aecas begins to turn around and then launches himself off the top of the ladder at his opponent, the Sacred One flies into the ring as the ladder collapses outside, catching Aecas completely off guard. The USJL Champion wraps an arm around the giant’s head in mid flight, twisting his opponent around with his momentum before smashing his head down into the canvas with a huge spinning Tornado DDT! “WOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!” HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! “Jumping Tornado DDT! All the way from the outside of the ring down into the canvas!” “Citizen Sacred caught Aecas napping with that one Robert!” “Yes he did, all he has to do now is COVER THE MAN!” Back in the ring the Sacred One is doing exactly that, diving on top of his giant opponent and hooking one huge leg with both hands as Eddy Long drops down to count the pinfall once again. ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! … … … TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! … … … TWO AND A HALF!!!!!!!!!!!!!! … … … TWO AND THREE QUARTERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! … … … … … … … … THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Aecas kicks out of the pinning attempt once more, frustrating the Sacred One’s attempt at finishing the match once again; Sacred shakes his head in frustration before slowly sliding out of the ring once more to retrieve the fallen ladder. Aecas slowly starts to drag himself back up to his feet, the giant shaking his head violently and leaning against the ropes as he tries to shake off the impact of that huge DDT. Sacred picks up the ladder and climbs back up onto the apron of the ring, so intent is he on getting the ladder back in the ring that he doesn’t see the approaching Black Angel before it is too late. A huge elbow to the side of the head sends the ladder clattering back down to the floor as Sacred reels from the power of the blow, only just keeping a grip on the top rope as Aecas steps through the ropes and joins the USJL Champion on the apron. Another hard elbow rocks the Sacred One back long enough for Aecas to step forwards; the giant sends his huge right boot crashing into Sacred’s gut doubling the smaller man over. The fans, already on their feet and chanting from the action they have seen so far in this match cheer even louder as the Black Angel leans forwards, wrapping his thick arms around Sacred’s waist and hoisting the USJL champion up. Aecas lets Sacred’s body drape over his right shoulder in a Canadian Backbreaker Rack, a malevolent grin appearing on his face once more as he points down at the barbed wire table that he set up at the start of the match. “Citizen Aecas is looking to end it all with that barbed wire table Robert!” “I think he’s looking for Dark Ascension! He’s going to snap Sacred’s neck in half!” Tightening his grip on the Sacred One Aecas leaps off of the apron, pulling Sacred forwards off of his shoulders and sitting out in mid air, a split second before he PILEDRIVES HIS OPPONENT THROUGH THE BARBED WIRE TABLE! “RRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” The arena explodes as both men go through the barbed metal, yet another fecal chant starting up as Aecas leans forwards rolling Sacred over onto his back and pinning him with a lateral press amid the wreckage of wood and barbed wire. Eddy Long quickly slides out of the ring and drops down to the protective mats outside as he counts the pinfall once again. ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! … … … … TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! … … … … … TWO AND A HALF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! … … … … TWO AND THREE QUARTERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! … … … … … … THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DING! DING! DING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The crowd explode once again, forcing a few more cheers from their tired throats as Dark Funeral’s “Dead Skin Mask” explodes from the arena speakers, Aecas raises himself up to his knees his head thrown back, his cry of victory lost in the sheer wall of noise as Funyon’s voice is only just audible over the cacophony. “The winner of the match by pinfall! THE BLACK ANGEL! AECAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” “And Citizen Aecas is victorious over Citizen Sacred!” “Yes he is Comet but it was a close run thing, Sacred could have had the match won several times but his luck crapped out when it came to the finish. If he’d been able to get that ladder back in there who knows what could have happened.” “Indeed Robert, but of course that is the benefit of hindsight. As it stands Citizen Aecas has just won an important match defeating the USJL Champion is no easy feat! Especially one as experienced as Citizen Sacred!” Aecas finally manages to extricate himself from the tangle of blood, barbed wire, and wood that cover the protective mats, leaning against the ring and grinning all the while as Eddy Long raises his arm in victory. The Black Angel slowly begins to walk around the ring moving past the announcer’s table and pausing at the Time Keepers table to collect his belt. He carries the Hardcore Title in one hand as he continues to walk around the ring, stooping in the aisle to pick up his Scythe long since dropped an forgotten as the match began before slowly walking up the aisle. He pauses when he reaches the stage, turning around and lifting both Scythe and belt into the air, in either hand grinning as the fans cheer once more, the Black Angel saluting the crowd with his Scythe before turning away and disappearing into the darkness of backstage. Back at the ring Sacred is slowly picking himself up, the Sacred One covered in as much blood as his opponent and clutching at his head from the short plummet into hell he just experienced. Moving to the Time Keepers table he collects the USJL Title and makes his own way up the ramp as “Dead Skin Mask” continues to blast over the speakers. “And the night continues Robert! I just hope for Citizen Aecas’ sake that he is still able to defend that belt against his new contender! These matches take quite the toll on the body and he has had two such matches in as many shows!” “That’s the risk that comes with the territory Comet.” “Quite so Robert. We are going to commercial now Citizens but be sure to stay tuned as coming up we still have the Mouse Trap match and Citizen Matthews defending his IC Title against Citizen West! But coming up next Our resident Light Heavyweight Champion Citizen Wildchild will defend his title against Citizen Royal! See you after the break good Citizens!”

As Lockdown returns from commercial break we come onto the view of the SWF Commentators Table, helmed by the masked hero known only as Cyclone Comet along with his obtuse sidekick Bobby Riley it is more than obvious that though ‘Fat Tuesday’ has come and gone, the party has yet to end! Draped around Bobby’s neck are several dozen colorful strings of beads and one string of red beads just barely hanging on to the top of Comet’s head. “… Citizen Robert, I really must attest to decorating ourselves with these beaded ornaments, it can lead us nowhere but down the path of sleaziness and despair!” pleads Comet, unaware that Lockdown has returned from commercial break. “The Superhero Council would not approve of my partaking in such activities.” “Oh be quiet, Comet,” says Bobby, rolling his eyes. “there is nothing wrong with celebrating a day late, beside… why would the opinion of a Superhero Council matter, remember: they’re the ones supporting a bunch of vigilantes. Now… ” Standing to his feet, Bobby continues. “… IF you don’t mind Mr. Spandex-Pants, I need some more beads.” Bobby spins around towards the crowd and promptly raises his shirt up over his head exposing his chest to all. “WHOOOOOO! WHOOOOOO! WHOOOOOO!” “OH… MY… GOD!” gasp Comet, simply horrorstricken by the sight as the crowds cheer Bobby on, not helping matters in the least. “That is unquestionably nauseating, Citizen Robert, you sir… should be ashamed! It’s a good thing were still on commer… ” But as Comet spins his head towards the cameras he notices a little red blinking light. “Oh, no… we are live, aren’t we.” The camera shakes up and down as if nodding to say yes and Comet’s head sinks into his hands. “Please for the love of Athens, PLEASE say you guys censored that, there could be children watching!” “Aw, quiet down you party pooper.” says Bobby, “I don’t think there is a kid alive who hasn’t seen a man’s chest before. Anyway, since we are back on… don’t we have a match coming up?” “That we do. replies Comet, “Our next match will feature “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins taking on Johnny Dangerous with a shot at the SWF United States Junior League Championship on the line! Let’s take it to Funyon!” “Ladies and Gentlemen,” begins Funyon, “the following contest scheduled for one fall will be for the number one contendership to the Smartmarks Wrestling Federations United States Junior Leagues Heavyweight Championship! Entering first… ” The lights dim and “Hot Today” begins pumping through the speakers, prompting the crowd to cheer for the entrance of Spike Jenkins. Swiping aside the curtain, Spike strolls out onto the stage and heads straight down the ramp towards the ring. “Weighing in at two hundred-twenty five pounds, and hailing from Hollywood, California… ‘HOLLYWOOOD’ SPIIIIIIKE JENKINS!!” “Hmm,” observes Comet, “Spike doesn’t look too good today. In fact I’m not sure he looks well enough to be competing here tonight.” “Nonsense,” replies Bobby, “a real competitor wrestles under any condition. In fact… some of my best matches were fought when I was two sheets under the wind!” “I hardly think being drunk and being ill are in the same category, Citizen Robert. I would hate to report you to W.A.D.D.” “Oh, what’s that?” “Wrestlers Against Dumb-ass Drunks.” Spike slides into the ring and takes to a far corner, sinking deep into it as the lights dim back down and a deep sultry voice whispers the name of the SWF’s resident Secret Agent. “JOHNNY DANGEROUS~!” “After the Flesh” immediately comes thundering across the arena, while the stage begins to fill with the haze of white smoke swirling out from the sides. Dozens of strobes light up the set, piercing through the smoke and partially illuminating the Barracuda as he steps out from backstage dressed in his sleek-black casual attire with a pair of high-tech shades! “And his opponent, weighing in at two hundred and seventeen pounds, and hailing from Las Vegas, Nevada, he is one half of the Smartmarks Wrestling Federation’s Tag Team Champions, I give you ‘The Barracuda’, JOHNNNNY DAAAANGEROUUSS!!” Slinging the Tag Team Title over his shoulder, Johnny begins to walk in stride down the ramp, flashing that million dollar smile and winking at those luscious ladies that adorn the first row. He steps up each step of the steel staircase, and then glides across the length of the apron, stopping about midway and turning to the fans before pumping his fist out to them as thousands of flash bulbs explode! Johnny steps into the ring and hands off his title belt to Referee Eddie Long before shedding his coat and flinging his shades off his face and into the crowds, and… to a massive pop no less! He steps forward, ready to meet up with Spike Jenkins in the center of the ring, but Spike quickly asks Funyon for his microphone. Funyon simply shrugs and hands off his microphone. “Wait a second, Johnny,” pleads Spike, stepping forward towards the middle of the squared circle. “please… hear me out for a minute.” “What in the world is Citizen Jenkins doing?” “Hush, Comet,” snaps Bobby, “I don’t want to miss any trash talk!” “Listen,” Spike continues, in between a few short breaths, “I don’t want to wrestle you Johnny. Not tonight anyway. I seemingly came down with a virus over the weekend, and it’s taking all the energy I can muster to even stand here tonight in this ring.” “Sounds like someone had a little too much to drink last night!” mutters Riley, “Virus my left ass cheek!” “So before anything comes to blows… ” “Now your talking,” says Riley, leaning forward in his seat with some newfound interest. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Robert H. Riley,” scolds Comet, “THAT is not what Spike is talking about!” “… I want to just go ahead and throw in the towel.” says Spike, “If you’ll accept my offer, I promise to give you the match of your life when I’m feeling better!” As Spike lowers his microphone he looks on towards Johnny in quite the sickly manner, pleading with his expression for Johnny to accept. “Ot-Oh.” says Comet, almost under his breath. “It’s all in Johnny Dangerous’ hands right now. What will he have to say to Spike Jenkins? In one hand he could accept this offer like a true hero and walk out of this ring with a number one contendership to the USJL Title without even breaking a sweat! While in the other he could beat the flu right out of Citizen Jenkins, taking advantage of an easy victory while at the same time allowing his darker side to seep through.” “Oh my God, will you PLEASE shut up?” growls Bobby, “It’s not that serious! Spike has a hang over I tells ya, either that or he’s afraid! And if he is afraid of Johnny Dangerous than he be better of to avoid living anymore.” After a moment Johnny reaches for the microphone. “Okay, Spike,” says Johnny, “I’ll accept your offer, but you better make good on that promise.” The crowd howls in approval as Spike and Johnny shake hands and the Referee nods to Funyon to make the announcement. “The winner of this match,” bellows Funyon, “and NEEEW number one contender to the Smartmarks Wrestling Federation’s United States Junior League Heavyweight Championship, JOHNNNNNY DAAANGEEROUUS!!” “Well, that wasn’t quite the match I was hoping for,” says Comet, “but none the less it is always a pleasure to see that true sportsmanship is still alive and well here in the Smartmarks Wrestling Federation.” Eddie Long jogs back over to Johnny handing back his Tag Team Title as Spike rolls out of the ring and heads backstage. Johnny graciously accepts his title and prepares to exit the ring himself when- -“AHHHHHHHHHHHH!” the sound of a full choir softly singing rings out across New Orleans, sending the crowds into a booing frenzy! A single white light beams down onto the stage from the rafters, complete with floating particles in the beam and dozens of little flames light up the sides of the ramp. Suddenly AC/DC’s “Shoot to Thrill” THUNDERS out and Todd Royal, Landon Maddix, and Megan Skye stroll out onto the stage. “Oh, it looks like you may get some action yet, Comet.” says Bobby, “Cause here comes the House of Todd!” “I can see that,” Comet replies, “but what are the doing out here now?” “Cut the music!” orders Todd Royal, stepping out in front of his church with a microphone in hand. Johnny stands in the ring, perplexed at this arrival and he himself reaches for a free microphone just in case. “Bravo,” Todd continues as the music ceases. “bravo to one hard earned victory, Johnny Dangerous, that was a hell of a stellar match!” “Such mockery,” scowls Comet, “it’s not Operative Dangerous’ fault Spike was too sick to wrestle here tonight.” “Again, will you just be quiet?” moans Bobby, “every time somebody gets on the microphone you have something to say, I mean… Todd Royal, Comet, give it a rest!” “It’s just too bad that your partner, Wildchild won’t have it that easy tonight.” says Todd, “and it’s also too bad that the both of you won’t have nothing close to easy when it comes to the House of Todd claiming those Tag Titles!” Todd pauses, knowing the crowd will respond with jeering before they even do. Once the finally settle, he continues again. “However, it seems that you and Wildchild have done everything under your power to avoid the Tag Team Title match that will result in Wild and Dangerous’ fall from grace.” “Royal,” booms Johnny, “what in the hell are you talking about? First off, WE have done nothing to avoid you clown’s, you KNOW where we are every single show!” “No, no, no,” snaps Todd, “FIRST of all YOU will address me as Todd!” “Yeah,” chimes Bobby, “show some damned respect, Johnny! The fact that Todd is out here and HE isn’t even on his knees is just asking for damnation!” “Secondly,” Todd continues, “you will not speak unless… ” “Royal,” again Johnny interrupts much to the joy of the crowd, “you want your match against Dub Cee and I, fine! I would even say let’s go tonight, but it seems that you already have a match against Wildchild, and let me tell you… it will take an act of GOD for you to actually win and claim that Cruiserweight Championship from Wildchild!” “THAT is where you are wrong,” growls Todd, “all it will take is an act of Todd, and that is exactly what will happen tonight in that very ring! I do not bend to the will of this God you speak of but only to mine; it took him seven days to accomplish his goals but it will only take two for mine!” “Folks,” says Comet, “I really must apologize for the blaspheme coming out of Todd Royal’s mouth, it in no way, shape or form represents how the SWF as a whole feels about God.” “Speak for yourself, Comet,” says Bobby, “I’m rather inclined to believe what Todd says… At least I can prove HE exhist!” “On the first day,” says Todd, “Todd will create the first defeat of the Bahama Bomber this year, and becoming Cruiserweight Champion in the process. On the second day the House of Todd will destroy the evil that is Wild and Dangerous, and claim the Tag team Championship.” “Your so full of shit, Royal,” shouts Johnny, “all this crap that you spew from your mouth just makes me sick. Day one, day two… neither one is going to happen! I was going to say lets do this at Smarkdown, but you know what? I don’t think that stage is big enough! What you and your whipping boy, Landon there need is to have both of your asses kicked so hard that it could ONLY be shown on pay per view!” “WOAH!” shouts Comet as the crowd erupts with cheers, “Johnny Dangerous just laid the challenge down, and he laid it thick!” “He’s just lucky that ring doesn’t open up and swallow him whole talking like that!” spits Bobby. “That’s right, Wild and Dangerous verses the House of Todd at From the Fire with the Tag Team Titles on the line!” says Johnny, tapping the gold plate of the Tag Team Belt strung over his shoulder. “Be warned though, Todd… Landon… you two better pad your asses with plenty of pillows before stepping into the ring; me and Wildchild are going to be aiming our feet right at them! I guess we’ll see just how Dangerous you boys like to live your lives… at From the Fire!” “After the Flesh” pounds from the speakers as Johnny flips the microphone over his shoulder while never taking his eyes of the House of Todd. “And we have yet one more match signed for the Pay Per View!” cheers Comet, “Wild and Dangerous versus The House of Todd, and what a match that will be!” “Yeah well, lets just hope Wildchild don’t mind Johnny doing all the talking for him.” says Bobby, “and speaking of the Baham Bomber, Todd Royal will proclaimed that he will defeat Wildchild tonight for that Cruiserweight Title. We’ll get to see that match in a bit, but first up Aecas vs Sacred!” “And we will have that after a word from our sponsors,” says Comet as we: Fade Out.

“We are back, live in NEW ORLEANS!” Cyclone Comet screams these words as the lights come up again in the New Orleans Arena, crammed to the rafters with screaming and possibly rabid SWF fans desperate to get their half-second of immortality as the cameras sweep the crowd. Picking their targets carefully the crew isolate homemade signs varying from the simple “(Y)”, to the egotistical “I’m Wild and Dangerous” and finishing off with “I came to see the BEATDOWN~!”. As one very drunk fan apparently tries to eat the camera the picture cuts to Cyclone Comet and Bobby Riley, one visibly excited and the other quite definitely bored. “We have already seen some amazing action here on Lockdown, dear audience,” the superhero continues, surreptitiously nudging Riley in the ribs in an attempt to coax a smile for the camera, “but now it’s going to get turned up a notch! What went down just moments ago between Terrance Bailey and John Duran was truly intense, but our next match has the stipulation that those two formidable athletes will compete under at From The Fire - Hardcore!” “And let’s not forget the history here Comet,” Riley interrupts, a chance to derail his colleague in mid-hype overpowering even his surly attitude. “A mere 19 days ago a travesty took place when the debuting Toxxic beat Jacob Helmsley with a small package - what kind of way is that for the pipe-wielding maniac to lose a match? Well, tonight it’s hardcore and such a lame move won’t cut it this time!” Riley is interrupted in his turn by the opening electronic beats of Disturbed’s “Meaning of Life” flooding the PA system, almost drowned out by the torrent of boos in response. As the guitars kick in Jacob Helmsley appears at the top of the ramp, trademark steel pipe in hand. “Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall, is for the Number One Contendership to the SWF Hardcore Gamer’s Championship and will be contested under HARDCORE RULES!” Funyon booms, playing for the cheap pop and getting it from the New Orleans crowd. “Introducing first, from Calgary, Alberta, Canada, he weighs in tonight at 227lbs... JAAACOB... HEEELLLMMMSSSLLEEEYYY!” Striding slowly to the ring Jake’s face registers no effect of the jeering that surrounds him, but it is unclear whether this is because he is deliberately blanking the fans out or that they are beneath his notice altogether. Reaching the ring Jacob casually swings his pipe so that it connects with the post. *THUNK* Rolling in under the bottom rope Jacob shrugs off his trenchcoat and brandishes his pipe above his head to the disdain of the New Orleans faithful who stand up and heckle the man from Calgary, but for all the notice Jacob takes it might as well be the wind blowing around him. “Citizen Helmsley hasn’t had the best of luck lately, Robert,” Comet notes. “Not only did he exit the Clusterfudge most painfully, but he lost to Toxxic and then lost a tag match with Spike Jenkins as well. Even his victory over the Insane Luchador on Storm only came about due to his opponent not turning up, and after the decision was announced Jacob certainly looked less than happy at having no target to take his rage out on.” “And that is precisely why Jake will be so dangerous tonight, Comet,” Riley asserts. “Toxxic won’t know what hit him, I promise you that. Then Helmsley can go on to face the so-called “Black Angel” for the Hardcore Title - and that match will NOT be pretty.” “Um, Robert? I think someone might have something to say about that little scenario...” Helmsley’s music cuts out, and the brutal guitars of “We Still Kill The Old Way” by Lostprophets crunches out over the New Orleans Arena. As if on cue from Comet’s last comment “Prepare To Be Proved Wrong” flashes up on the blacked-out Smarktron prior to a clip of Toxxic taking Mike Van Siclen off a balcony and through a table with the Toxxic Shock Syndrome, the devastating landing timed to coincide with... GO! ...red pyros going off either side of the entrance way and Toxxic emerging from behind the curtain, cracking his neck from side to side and staring down at the ring where an emotionless Helmsley awaits. Toxxic reaches the bottom of the ramp, almost as oblivious to the cheers he’s garnering as Helmsley was to the boos, and hesitates... but only for a second. Rushing the ring the British straight-edger slides under the bottom rope and scales the turnbuckles, throwing his arms wide, palms flat as New Orleans makes some noise - noise that quickly turns to shouts of warning as Jacob Helmsley rushes his opponent from behind, steel pipe already descending to do untold damage to Toxxic’s back... ...but it only finds the padded top turnbuckle as Toxxic vaults over the top rope at the last second and lands on the floor. The landing is hard as Toxxic shakes out his slightly twisted right leg, but infinitely preferable to a steel pipe to the back. Staring down at the smaller wrestler from his vantage point in the ring Helmsley holds his thumb and forefinger up a mere centimetre apart as if to say “I was this far from crippling you,” and then steps back, inviting Toxxic to return. For his part Toxxic stares around at the crowd, wisely not eager to get back within range of that deadly pipe. *DING! DING!* “TOX-XIC!” “TOX-XIC!” “TOX-XIC!” As the chant starts up Toxxic shrugs and slowly climbs back up onto the ring apron, eyeing Jacob cautiously. The Canadian psycho just stands there, daring Toxxic to get in, pipe at the ready. Looking round at the crowd once more Toxxic casually edges a hand into one of the huge pockets in his baggy trousers, and as Jacob tires of his game and starts to advance the Brit whips out... ...a gun. And pointing it directly as Helmsley’s head, he squeezes the trigger. *SSSSSSSSPPPPPLLLLLLLLAAAAAAASSSSSSHHHH!* “A water pistol!?” Comet and Riley shout in incredulous unision. With Jacob momentarily spluttering and blinded by the spray of water Toxxic drops the mini SuperSoaker and vaults to the middle of the top rope, coming off with a springboard spinning heelkick that lands squarely in the middle of his opponent’s muscular chest. The impact sends Helmsley crashing to the mat and knocks his trusty steel pipe from his hand, and Toxxic attempts to follow up his sudden advantage by kicking his opponent’s favoured weapon out of the ring completely. With Jacob now disarmed the Brit raises the Canadian Psycho back to his feet and tries to whip him into the ropes, but Helmsley reverses the momentum and sends Toxxic towards the cables instead. As the rookie rebounds Jacob puts his head down for a back bodydrop... but that’s never a good idea against Toxxic, and the straight-edger kills his own momentum and hits Jake with the facebuster/DDT combo known as the Sobering Thought! “Citizen Helmsley got ‘sobered up’ in the first meeting between these two,” Comet chortles, “you’d have thought he’d have learned from that!” “Comet, right now Jacob is only a few seconds from splattering Toxxic’s brains all over the ring,” Riley rejoins angrily. “All he needs to do is get hold of his pipe- hey, that’s not fair!” Leaving Helmsley momentarily stunned inside the ring Toxxic rolls to the outside and, seeing Jake’s trusty steel pipe lying on the floor, takes the opportunity to kick it under the ring where his opponent won’t be able to find it. Reaching under the ring apron himself Toxxic grabs hold of something... and pulls out an eight-foot ladder! Looking up the British punk sees Jacob getting to his feet by the ropes so he rams the ladder up into Helmsley’s ribs, doubling the Canadian Psycho over. However Jacob’s head now overhangs the top ropes as he clutches his midsection, so in one swift move Toxxic traps his opponent’s cranium between two rungs of the ladder before simply hanging off it, using all of his weight to choke Jacob over the top rope. “That’s totally unfair!” Riley bellows as Jacob gasps for air, arms flailing helplessly. “Toxxic is just... that’s illegal, Comet!” “YOU were the one approving of Citizen Helmsley cracking Toxxic’s skull open,” Comet argues as Toxxic releases his opponent. “In fact you said he would ‘splatter his brains all over the ring’.” “OK, I admit I was wrong there.” “Good.” “Toxxic doesn’t have any brains.” With Jacob on his knees and wheezing the way is clear for Toxxic to return to the ring, bringing his ladder with him, and as the pipe-wielding maniac from Calgary starts to regain his breath and his feet the Brit determines to see what else he can use his new favourite weapon for. Charging with it levelled at waist height rather like a pole-vaulter Toxxic drives Helmsley straight back into the turnbuckles, the impact of the bottom rung forcing the breath out of Jacob’s lungs again. The two legs of the ladder protruding beyond the bottom rung are resting on the middle rope, and with Helmsley momentarily stationary Toxxic decides to try something a little out of character. Slapping his knee in the universal motion for “Shining Wizard” the British punk starts to run up the slanted ladder towards Jacob’s head... but at the last moment Helmsley surges back into life, hoisting the ladder upright and causing Toxxic to jump backwards off it. The rookie lands on his feet but is unable to avoid a vicious clothesline from the Canadian Psycho, and Helmsley lets out a loud roar as the tables turn on the young man from Nottingham. Hauling Toxxic upright with no apparent effort Jake scoops him up before slamming his opponent down back-first onto the fallen ladder! *CRASH!* Snarling at his fallen opponent Jacob rolls under the bottom rope and heads outside in search of his favourite weapon - but it is nowhere to be seen! With frustration and disgust written on his face Helmsley heads to the timekeeper’s position and grabs the man’s steel chair, snapping it shut and heading back to the ring where Toxxic is starting to rise, clutching his back. With sadistic glee Helmsley raises the chair high over his head but is cut off by a desperation right hand to the gut. As Jacob doubles over Toxxic reaches up and wraps both hands around Jacob’s head before sitting out, driving his own skull into his opponent’s jaw. The force of the impact staggers the man from Calgary and Toxxic gets to his feet again, determined to press his advantage... but only runs straight into a stunning chairshot! *CRACK!* “Toxxic is really taking some punishment here, Robert,” Comet calls with some concern. “He needs to start using his speed to keep ahead of Jacob Helmsley or this match will be over quicker than that time you accidentally stumbled into a strip club!” “Toxxic needs to do nothing, Comet,” Riley replies smugly, “apart from continue to be pummelled. And for your information, I left so quickly because of the extortionate drink prices.” Dropping the chair to the mat Helmsley wrenches the man from the UK upright and fires off a right hand to the jaw to maintain his advantage before wrapping one arm around his opponent’s shoulder and dropping backwards, driving Toxxic’s head and back into the chair with a Russian Leg Sweep! The straight-edger’s back jerks into spasms but Jacob merely springs back to his feet and cracks a slight smile at the derision poured down upon him by the fans in New Orleans. Grabbing his opponent by his head Jacob hauls him back to his feet once more and slides his right arm under Toxxic’s, trapping the rookie’s head and shoulder, before exploding into violent action once more and driving the Brit back down onto the chair with a vicious STO! *WHAM!* As Toxxic writhes in pain from the latest assault Jacob swoops upon his opponent’s prone form and hooks the leg for a cover... ONE! TWO! TH- Kickout! Despite the punishment meted out to his back Toxxic is able to kick out just after two, but Jacob merely responds by repeatedly stomping on his opponent, apparently trying to drive his foot right through the Brit’s ribcage. Finally tiring of his efforts to turn Toxxic into straight-edge paste Helmsley rolls under the bottom rope and heads outside again, once more apparently on the search for his beloved steel pipe. “Under the ring, Jake!” Bobby Riley yells, eager to help his favourite. “The little punk threw it under the ring!” Guided by Riley’s desperate gestures Helmsley bends down to peer under the ring apron - only to receive two feet to the face as Toxxic hits a desperation baseball slide underneath the bottom rope! Jacob hits the ground outside, momentarily stunned, but Toxxic is not in a much better state inside the ring as he holds his back and ribs, and Jacob recovers first. Shaking his head to clear the haze and glaring at his fallen opponent in order to detect any new signs of movement Helmsley again reaches under the ring. At first the man from Calgary can’t seem to find what he’s looking for, but as he crawls further under his hand seems to close on something... and Jacob emerges triumphantly clutching his favourite weapon as the crowds boos hit a new high! Uncharacteristically acknowledging the crowd’s presence Jacob takes a brief moment to taunt his detractors by raising the pipe above his head, and then turns to get back to business with Toxxic - who comes flying over the top rope with a suicide dive! “TOX-XIC!” “TOX-XIC!” “TOX-XIC!” “Amazing!” Comet exclaims. “Toxxic knew that the moment Citizen Helmsley is able to use that steel pipe this match is as good as over, and he was able to cut his opponent off! He must be running on adrenaline at the moment Robert, after those blows to the back and chest.” “Either that or the little swine was playing possum,” Riley mutters. Toxxic doesn’t appear to be impersonating any kind of marsupial however, except possibly one in dire need of a chiropractor. Clutching his back Toxxic is still able to deliver a thunderous European uppercut to Helmlsey, staggering him backwards, followed by a second that causes the bigger man to stumble and hold onto the ring for support. Glancing over his shoulder Toxxic sees the steel pipe lying on the ground behind him where the impact of the suicide dive knocked it from Jacob’s hand, and realising that he needs to do everything possible to keep his opponent from regaining it Toxxic simply grabs Helmsley’s head and rams it into the ring post. Jake rebounds from the impact and wobbles away, and sensing an advantage Toxxic pursues... only to have two arms wrapped around his chest as Jacob captures him in a bearhug before casually tossing the rookie over his head and driving him down onto the thin protective mats around the ring with a brutal belly-to-belly suplex! Pushing himself to his feet Jacob feels a wet sensation on his forehead and puts a hand up to determine the source - which transpires to be the dark red of his own blood, now starting to leak out following his collision with the ring post. Wiping his hand on his leather pants Jacob heads back towards the one thing he cares about - his pipe - and finally regains possession of it without annoying straight-edgers flying over the ropes at him. With a sadistic grin returning to his face Jacob turns to stalk his quarry, now pulling itself slowly to its feet, using the guard rail as support. “It’s just a matter of time now, Comet!” Riley chuckles gleefully. “In a few seconds Jacob will begin tenderising that piece of British beef!” “...That’s a truly worrying analogy, Robert.” The crowd in the New Orleans Arena once again comes to Toxxic’s aid, the swelling creschendo of noise warning the Brit that danger is approaching, and he throws himself to one side just in time to avoid Jake’s downswing. Desperately backing away Toxxic finds himself up against another ringpost, this one not stained by Helmley’s blood but with Jacob himself in hot pursuit. Raising his weapon once more the Canadian Psycho swings at head-height but Toxxic manages to avoid decapitation by ducking the shot, causing pipe to connect with ringpost with a solid *THUNK!* noise, and the straight-edger scrambles away again. With Jacob pursuing at his usual deliberate pace Toxxic dives into the ring in an attempt to get away from his better-armed adversary... and finds himself right next to the fallen ladder. As Jacob climbs up onto the apron Toxxic heaves with all his might and the steel ladder slides across the ring and takes out Jake’s legs, causing the man from Calgary to fall and hit his head on the ring apron. With a momentary advantage Toxxic grabs the chair that Jacob previously used to damage his back, slides out of the ring and, as the pipe-wielding maniac starts to regain his feet, brings it down hard on the Canadian’s head. *CRACK!* The force of the blow drops Jacob, but only to one knee. Astounded by his opponent’s resilience Toxxic swings again... *CRACK!* ...and this time it knocks the Canadian Psycho onto the mats. Diving onto his prone adversary Toxxic hooks the leg as referee Ced Ordonez slides out of the ring to make the count. ONE! TWO! THR- Kickout! Frustrated at Jake’s refusal to stay down Toxxic reaches under the ring again, and pulls out another chair. Holding one in each hand the straight-edger waits until Jacob is on both knees before bringing his arms together, blasting the Canadian in the head with a double chairshot! The impact sends Jacob down to the mat again as Toxxic turns to salute the crowd and yells “You know when you’ve been Tango’d!” before dropping his weapons and making another cover, hooking both of Jacob’s legs in an effort to pile all his opponent’s weight onto his shoulders. ONE! TWO! THRE- Kickout! Sure that he’d got the three-count this time Toxxic gets to his feet and starts to argue with referee Ordonez, but doesn’t get very far before his eyes suddenly bulge... *CHING!* “Ballshot!” Riley laughs. “Never take your eyes off your opponent, you dolt!” “Especially not in a match where anything is legal,” Comet agrees, “and that mistake might cost Toxxic...” Helmsley fired off the low-blow more through instinct than anything else, even the Canadian Psycho’s head spinning after those chairshots. But Helmsley sees Toxxic standing there, legs still apart (if slightly knock-kneed) and seeks to take advantage with a school boy pin... ONE! TWO! THR- Kickout! Without wasting any time Jake grabs his dry-heaving opponent in a gutwrench and hoists him upwards until the Brit’s body is draped over Helmsley’s shoulder in a Canadian backbreaker. The weight causes Jake to stagger momentarily as he tries to clear his head, but the strength of the big man is more than up to the task and now Toxxic is trapped upside down and with a steadily increasing pressure on his ribs. Ordonez moves in, asking Toxxic if he wants to give the match up but the man from Nottingham repeatedly replies in the negative, despite the ominous creaking sounds coming from his ribcage. The sadistic grin returns to Jacob’s face as he cinches the hold in tighter and tighter, but apparently deciding that Toxxic isn’t giving up anytime soon Helmlsey decides to resort to more direct measures and slams the rookie back down again, driving him face-first into the mats! Without bothering to go for the pin Jacob scans the ground until he finds what he’s looking for - his pipe. Taking the lethal length of steel in hand Jacob simply places it across Toxxic’s windpipe and presses down with all his weight, ignoring the desperate kicking of his victim’s legs as the Brit struggles vainly to relieve the pressure by pushing back. Finally a desperate Toxxic releases the pipe with one hand and pokes a black-nailed finger into Jacob’s eye, causing the Canadian to yell in pain and sit backwards sharply. Free from the asphyxiating hold Toxxic can do nothing momentarily and the brief moment to recover allows Jake to take control again. Planting a kick into his opponent’s ribs to keep him down, Helmlsey lifts the ring apron one more time and delves beneath, hauling out a table. As the atmosphere inside the New Orleans Arena starts to buzz with anticipation Helmlsey swiftly and expertly sets the table up before grabbing Toxxic and placing him in a standing headscissors. “We could be about to see Toxxic’s Downfall, Comet!” Riley calls as Jacob makes a throat-cutting gesture. “I fear you may be correct, Robert,” Comet accedes. “It certainly looks like Jacob will face Aecas... Merciful Zeus!” *KERRRUNCH!* With a crunch of breaking wood and quite possibly breaking bones Jacob drives Toxxic through the table with his mighty Downfall powerbomb. Leaning forward over the rookie’s limp body Helmlsey barks a terse instruction at Ordonez to count the pinfall, and the ref slides in to administer the count... ONE! TWO! THREEEEEEE- Kickout! “TOX-XIC!” “TOX-XIC!” “TOX-XIC!” “Unbelievable!” Cyclone Comet explodes at the New Orleans crowd starts to raise the roof of the arena. “Citizen Toxxic managed to get his shoulder up!” “Just, Comet, just,” Bobby Riley mutters darkly. Snarling in frustration Jake Helmsley hauls his opponent upright, scattering broken pieces of table asunder. Toxxic’s legs have other ideas however, and seemingly unable to support his own bodyweight the British punk drops back to his knees... *CHING!* ...and slams his forearm up into the Canadian Psycho’s happy-happy-joy-joy area! “Turnabout is fair play, Robert!” Comet shouts to the spluttering Riley. “Helmsley let his guard down and now it’s he who has been testicularly traumatised!” Moving with a speed borne of desperation Toxxic slides behind Helmsley and grabs the Canadian’s head in both hands before simply sitting out, slamming the back of Jake’s skull into the mats. Leaning forward and grabbing a leg Toxxic desperately signals at Ordonez to count, which the referee leaps to do... ONE! TWO! THREEE- Kickout! Rising back to his feet Toxxic casts around for inspiration and sees the ladder he used to take out Jake’s legs still hanging over the ring apron. Pushing it back into the ring the straight-edger then picks up the two chairs and slides them in after it before rolling Helmlsey in as well. Following his opponent in Toxxic grabs a chair and sets it up, then does the same with the other one before bridging the gap between them with the ladder. Turning away from his creation Toxxic bends down to pick Jacob up - but the Canadian explodes outwards, driving the rookie across the ring into the turnbuckles and the breath from his lungs! “GORE! GORE! GORE!” Riley shouts in glee. “It’s time for Jacob to take control of this match Comet!” “I don’t know what Toxxic had planned with that little construction, but I think it might get used against him now.,” Comet replies. “Certainly Jacob isn’t a man to let an opportunity to inflict suffering go to waste.” Firing off a right hand at his opponent’s head Jacob whips Toxxic across the ring towards the other set of turnbuckles, but as the man from Calgary follows his opponent in Toxxic vaults to the top and then comes flying back at him with a diving clothesline! “Role Reversal!” Comet shouts. “The momentum in this match is swinging faster than a party at your house, Robert!” “I’m choosing to believe you’re referring to my collection of big band classics, Comet.” Both men rise to their feet together, but it is Jacob who gets off a punch first... and it is Toxxic who blocks it. The man from Nottingham replies with one of his own, and this finds a mark on the pipe-wielding maniac’s jaw. RIGHT! LEFT! RIGHT! LEFT! Windup... DISCUS CLOTHESLINE! The impact from the move sends Helmsley sprawling backwards, and whether by accident or design the Canadian Psycho ends up lying on the ladder, balanced as it is between the two chair seats. With one more right hand to the temple to briefly stun his opponent Toxxic heads outside, then raises three fingers over his head. The crowd fall silent briefly, but then roar back into life as Toxxic jumps from the apron... ...to the top rope... ...to the top turnbuckle... ...MOONSAULT! “HO-LY SHIT!” “HO-LY SHIT!” “HO-LY SHIT!” “TRIPLE-JUMP MOONSAULT THROUGH THE LADDER!” Comet screams as Toxxic shifts his weight back onto Helmsley for the cover, wincing at the pain in his ribs. “Surely that must be it!” ONE! TWO! THREEEEEEEEEEEEEE- Kickout! “THAT WAS THREE!” “THAT WAS THREE!” “How!?” Comet asks, echoing the sentiments of all in the arena, Toxxic included. “How did that only get two?” “Because Jacob Helmlsley is one uber-tough son-of-a-bitch, Comet,” Riley replies simply. Toxxic’s pleading with Ced Ordonez fails to move the referee, but as the straight-edger turns back to his opponent something seems to snap inside him. One chair and the ladder have been mangled by the impact of the preceding move, but kicking them viciously out of the way Toxxic grabs the undamaged steel chair and slams it down in a set up position in the middle of the ring. Grabbing Jake Helmlsey by the throat the Brit wrenches the barely-conscious Canadian Psycho upright and hauls him over to the chair. “I don’t like the look of this, Robert,” Riley says nervously. “I think Toxxic’s just lost it!” Spitting into his opponent’s face Toxxic yells at Jake, Ordonez and the arena in general: “You want hardcore!?” “YES!” the crowd predictably replies. “Then you’ll f*cking get hardcore!” Toxxic drives a knee into Jake’s gut, doubling him over, then snares his man in a front facelock. Hooking Helmsley’s leg as if setting him up for a fisherman’s suplex Toxxic hoists Jake vertical... then twists him along a vertical axis and brings him down in a Ki Krusher... THROUGH THE FUCKING CHAIR. “HO-LY SHIT!” “HO-LY SHIT!” “HO-LY SHIT!” “Caffeine Bomb THROUGH the chair!” Comet cries. “That HAS to do it!” ONE! TWO! THREEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!! *DING DING!* “Ladies and gentlemen, here is your winner and NEW number one contender to the SWF Hardcore Gamer’s Championship... TOXXIIICCC!” Funyon booms, vying with cheers and the guitars of the Lostprophets. The new number one contender rolls off Jake Helmsley’s limp body and out of the ring, seemingly both physically and spiritually exhausted by the effort necessary to put Helmsley away. Disregarding the cheering fans the man from Nottingham walks up the ramp, holding his ribs again as the residue of adrenaline and the last surge of burning anger that allowed him to defeat the Canadian Psycho drain away. The cameras cut back to Ced Ordonez trying to revive Jake Helmlsey in the ring, as we FADE OUT.

SWF Lockdown is back on the air in three. Two. One. "RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaH!" SWF Lockdown bursts back onto the air with the sound of generic rock music and screaming fans! The cameras spin around, catching the sight of the arena filled from ringside to rafters. Signs are in full effect as is the norm with an SWF event. From the basics of "Hi Mom!" and "I'm With Stupid", to "Black Angel Rules!" and "Notorious(ly) Better Than Others!", the superstar-related signs are waved about madly, as the cameras begin their slow pan down towards the announce table. Waiting with a look of utmost patience on his face is Cyclone Comet, and Bobby Riley leans on one hand and looks as bored as bored can be. At least, until Comet bursts to his feet when he spots the camera! "Welcome back to SWF Lockdown, citizens and fans! I'm CYCLOOOOOOOOOONE COMET here with Bobby Riley, and we have one spectacular match coming up for you momentarily!" "Spectacular? Comet, it's going to be ugly as anything! No way is John Duran getting in the ring with a psychopath like Janus!" "That's Terrence, Robert. And our beloved Commissioner signed this matchup tonight, and there's not much that Citizen Duran can do to stop it!" "Just wait till 'Grand Slam' gets another visit from Matheson, Comet. You'll see what a good lawyer can do these days." Before Comet can think up an appropriate response, Funyon lifts his microphone and takes his position in the middle of the ring. "The following contest is scheduled for ONE fall and will be contested under standard rules! Introducing first..." NO! NO! NOTORIOUS! As the sound of Duran Duran's "Notorious" fades into the sound of Spineshank's "Synthetic", the crowd lets the stage curtain have it with a resounding series of boos. And the boos redouble when the curtain is swept aside to reveal the Notorious One himself! However, as he begins his walk down the ramp, Duran is followed. Followed by Landon Maddix, Todd Royal, and Megan Skye. Followed by James Matheson and the Maori Badass Va'aiga. In summation... followed by the Unnamed. Funyon lifts his eyebrows at this but continues his announcements as normal. "Hailing from Champaign Illinois! He weighs two hundred and sixty eight pounds and stands at six-foot-eight. Accompanied...by the Unnamed! He is the NOOOOOOTORIOUS ONE, JOOOOOOOOOHN DURRRRRRRRAAAAAN!" The crowd continues to rain boos down on the approaching stable as John pauses on the ramp, turning to confer with his stablemates. After a brief discussion, everyone nods and exchanges smirks. As the Unnamed space themselves out on the ramp in a defensive line with the Maori Badass at the center, the Notorious One slides into the ring and grabs the microphone from Funyon. A swift boot to the arse sends the announcer scurrying from the ring, as Comet looks on in perplexed shock and Riley looks just confused. "Now why on earth would Duran bring out everyone in the Unnamed, Comet?" "Something is rotten in the state of Denmark, Robert. Citizen Duran obviously has a notorious idea in mind..." "Okay, everyone, now SHUT UP!" the Notorious One roars, as his music fades out. The noise of the crowd doesn't however, and that just makes Duran scowl even more. "Terrence, Janus, whoever you are tonight, I know you pulled some strings with Mark, I know your doctor convinced Mark that you'd be fit to wrestle in this ring. But do you people honestly think I'm going to take on a complete lunatic!? Hell no! Bad enough I'm roped into facing him at From The Fire, like hell I'm going to fight him now! I don't care what he calls himself, but if that seven foot Australian asshole wants to face me in the ring, he has to go through MY stablemates! So come on, Terrence, you pansy, come and get me!" Duran throws down the mic and gets into a ready stance along with his stable as the crowd is hushed, turning toward the curtain and eagerly awaiting the reply of the Notorious One's opponent. But nothing happens. "Citizen Duran clearly does not want this match tonight! What a coward, hiding behind his stablemates..." "No, it's GENIUS! Terrence is the coward, Comet! He doesn't have the guts to fight an entire stable just to get one man!" "I think you sorely underestimate Citizen Bailey's..." And the lights go out. And the low, sonorous buzzing of an alarm tears from the speakers, as the bright red words [sTATUS: RELEASED] blaze across the Smarktron! It's followed by the sound of Killswitch Engage's "When Darkness Falls" as the crowd rises to their feet to cheer! As the spotlight lands on the curtain, black and white pyrotechnics explode from the rampway! When darkness falls (When darkness falls) We are reborn A dream since the fall of man We are reborn... A white trenchcoat falls to the ground amid the flying pyrotechnics, and stalking through the sparks comes the Anti-Heel Machine. His eyes are on the ring where the Notorious One stands with a smug smile, and then his eyes drop to the people blocking him. The seven foot Australian tosses his hair out of his face and doesn't break stride as the Unnamed wait for him - and are instantly down one member as Landon Maddix eats a Knuckle Bomb! The other Unnamed break instantly, flooding the seven footer. With Va'aiga at their center slamming huge punches into Terrence's face, more punches and kicks rain into the Anti-Heel Machine from all sides. "This is just sheer madness, Robert! How can one man stand against such an assault?" "He can't, Comet, and that's the glorious thing!" The Anti-Heel Machine takes a huge right hook from the Maori Badass that drops him to his knees, and the Unnamed close in to finish the job. However, with a roar that would make any madman proud, Terrence stages a comeback! Surging to his feet, his left hand grabs Megan Skye by the face and shoves her into the guardrail, while his left wraps around Todd Royal's throat and hoists His Toddness up....and back down with a chokeslam! Va'aiga backs away towards the ring, and Terrence looks to follow when something slams into his back. Turning around, the seven footer glowers at the quivering, briefcase-clutching form of James Matheson... ...before Va'aiga sends his arm crashing into the back of the giant's head with a HA HA HA WE OWN YOUR SORRY ASS, NO MAN CAN STAND AGAINST US, NEVER TURN YOUR BACK ON THE MAORI BADASS YOU MIGHT END UP IN A BODYBAG LAAARRRRRRRRRIAAAAAAATOOOOOOOOO! Terrence collapses to the ground, and as Matheson and the reviving Landon Maddix check on the other Unnamed members and help them up, Va'aiga drags the Anti-Heel Machine to the ring by his hair. He rolls the big man under the bottom rope, and Duran smiles and gives him a thumbs up. Va'aiga simply smirks before turning to 'assist' Matheson and Maddix in taking the Unnamed backstage. "What a brutal assault! What on earth could Citizen Duran have planend that for..." *DING DING DING!* "That's what, Comet! The match is still on and Terrence has just been KILLED!" Riley cackles. "Oh, come on now referee, surely you can't expect the match to go on now!" Comet pleads. Duran chuckles and shakes his head in obvious amusement, dragging the Anti-Heel Machine away from the ropes. He then drapes himself over the giant back-first, lazily hooking a leg and putting his other arm under his head as if taking a nap. The crowd rains the boos down on the ring as the referee counts. ONE! ... .... ..... TWO!! ... .... ..... THREEEEEEE!! Duran rises to his feet with a smirk on his face, lifting his arms in the air. The crowd boos and starts throwing things at the ring, as the Notorious One leans on the ropes and waves mockingly to the fans. The referee bends to check on the Anti-Heel Machine as Duran pats his chest and lifts his arms again, trying to encourage cheers but still grinning even though he's been booed. When the boos start to turn to cheers, the Notorious One nods his head as if encouraging the fans, the smirk a mile wide across his face. At least, until a large gloved hand falls on his shoulder. "TWO! ONLY TWO!" the referee yells at the timekeeper. The smirk drops from Duran's face as he turns around and lifts his head to look up into the eyes of the Anti-Heel Machine. And then he finally hears the referee calling it a two count...before Terrence slams his skull into the Notorious One's with a headbutt! Stunned, Duran cannot resist being irish whipped across the ring, and the seven foot Australian lifts him up for a powerslam, then swings him around and slams him across the back of his knee in a backbreaker! "And Citizen Duran finds that his plans will Crash and Burn tonight Robert, as Citizen Bailey is still in this match!" "No! It's not fair! Duran had it all figured out! Terrence should have stayed down!" Comet hesitates only a moment before replying. "Maybe -Terrence- did, Robert." The seven footer doesn't stop his assault, dragging the Notorious One off the mat by his hair and yanking him up into a canadian backbreaker! Wrapping his arms around Duran's ribs, the Anti-Heel Machine - or is it the Hell Machine? - squeezes once, twice...and drops firmly to his knees! The Notorious One cries out in pain as his back is wrenched, and when he's dropped to the mat, he rolls right under the ropes and falls to the floor, clutching his spine. "And Citizen...Bailey... follows his attack up with the Spinal Division, clearly intent on working Citizen Duran's back! And speaking of Citizen Duran, Robert, he's just run away to the outside of the ring!" "Run away? Hah! That is a strategic retreat, Comet." Duran begins to walk around the ring, obviously needing a breather after receiving a beating from his opponent. However, Terrence will give no rest to the wicked. He climbs through the ropes and drops down onto the floor behind Duran, giving chase as Duran starts to move towards the base of the entrance ramp! "ONE!" Meanwhile, Anthony Michael Hall has begun his 10 count! "Where in the heck is Citizen Duran going, Robert?" "He's leaving this match, and I don't blame him! Why should he have to wrestle this monster when he'll have to do the same thing in mere days?" The Anti-Heel Machine takes long strides and catches up with the Notorious One, catching him from behind with a clothesline that sends Duran face first into the foot of the steel ramp with a loud *CLUNK*! "TWO!" The crowd cheers on Bailey as he puts the boots to John, stomping away at his opponent's back as Duran struggles to get back to his feet. "THREE!" Terrence helps him with that dilemma... but it's only so he can hit the Unnamed member with a huge Knuckle Bomb! Duran, as should be expected after such a heavy blow, hits the ramp again. "What a beating Citizen Bailey is delivering here to Citizen Duran, Robert. He might want to bring the match back into the ring, though!" "Never. The closer that Duran is to escaping the grasp of this beast, the more he'll fight for such freedoms, Comet." Comet pauses for a moment. "Very eloquently put, Robert." "Thanks." Duran rolls over onto his stomach but he doesn't fare well as Terrence simply starts working away at Duran's spine again. The stomps connect with gusto, and Duran realizes the error of his ways too late as he is brought up to his feet once again by his jet black hair. "FOUR!" However, Terrence quickly gives Duran a boot to the stomach and puts him in a standing headscissors, the wild cheers from the crowd turning into roars as they figure a big move is imminent! "This cannot be good, Comet." "It will right the wrongs that Citizen Duran has committed on us all!" "FIVE!" However, before Bailey even has a chance to lift the Notorious One up, Duran drops to his knees and lifts his arm in desperation, scoring a painful blow between the legs of Terrence! The roars are suddenly silenced by this extremely notorious move, and are quickly reversed into roaring boos for Duran! The Unnamed member ignores the fans however, grabbing the back of Terrence's head and then bringing up his right knee, crashing it into the skull of the Anti-Heel Machine! The seven footer's head snaps back at the impact of the knee and he collapses to the ground with a loud *THUD*. "SIX!" "This is awful; the referee has to get both men back into the ring, right now!" Terrence receives some more stomps from the big boot of Duran, as the Notorious One figures it's time for a little payback. A few more stomps follow, and then John thinks that's enough... and signals for the Blunt Force Trauma! "SEVEN!" "Oh yes, this will be good, Comet. No two count this time, I assure you." "He needs to get in the ring or there won't be any counting at all!" Duran begins to bring the Anti-Heel Machine up by his black-and-white hair, having seemed to quell the beast for now. However, when the Notorious One tries to go behind Terrence to set up the big finish, the seven footer turns around and slams a knee straight into his opponent's groin! John stumbles back and clutches his groin, gasping like a fish - so the Anti-Heel Machine just levels him with a stiff Knuckle Bomb! "EIGHT!" "Come on, Citizen Bailey, get him back in the ring, before it's too late!" "No! This match has to stop now, Comet! It's not fair to Duran!" However, Terrence does not relent, and it seems as if the Hell Machine has flared up again! The fans are madly rooting the Anti-Heel Machine on as he pounds away at the skull of Duran, repeatedly lifting the Notorious One's head with his left hand only to nail it with a Knuckle Bomb moments later! Duran has trouble backing away from Bailey, looking woozy but still trying to escape from the former Hardcore champion. "NINE!" Duran tries to hit a right hand in retaliation, but it's one without much force behind it and Terrence makes him pay with yet another Knuckle Bomb, the crowd's roars seeming to get louder and louder, though most are pleading with the Anti-Heel Machine to bring the Notorious One back to the ring to finish off this beatdown. "The match can't end this way, the referee has to restore some order to this match, Robert!" Referee Anthony Michael Hall leans through the ropes and tries to yell at the two combatants to bring it back to the ring, not wanting to count them out. However, there's no stopping the Anti-Heel Machine's beating of Duran. The Notorious One stumbles backwards through the curtain and Terrence follows, in hot pursuit as both men disappear behind the black curtain! Reluctantly, Referee Hall has no choice but to continue the count. "TEN!" Finally, he turns and calls for the bell as the crowd begins to ring the bell. *DING DING DING!* A chant of "BULL-SHIT!" immediately strikes up as Funyon puts the microphone to his lips. "Because Terrence Bailey and John Duran did not return to the ring in the allotted ten count, referee Anthony Michael Hall has declared this match a draw via double countout!" The official announcement gets the crowd even more riled up as the chant grows louder. "BULL-SHIT!" "BULL-SHIT!" "BULL-SHIT!" "Well, I wouldn't use those exact words, Robert, but I must say that I sympathize with the fans in this arena on this one!" "Terrence was a fool for asking for this match, Comet. It just proves that he's mentally unstable. He can't even return to the ring for a simple ten count! Someone get that doctor of his!" "This is truly a disappointment, Robert. Hopefully their match at From The Fire will be of a much better caliber than this one." "Hopefully Bailey will be in a straitjacket before that ever happens, Comet." "I severely doubt that." "At any rate, it's time to move on with the show!" Riley adds the last word and then changes his setting from 'ANALYSIS' to 'HYPE'. "Well, folks, we've still got a big show left ahead of us, including that selfish Charlie Matthews against the country bumpkin Coy West as our main event!" "And we promise that there will actually be a finish in that match," Comet says assuredly. On Comet's note, the scene fades out to commercials.

Redmond v. IL 2x no-show Thanks for the effort guys.

You indeed rock. I take back everything bad I said about you.

Are you sure? 7 Pacific doesn't jibe with any of the times actually given on the card. I corrected the time difference before I saw this post, so the card reads 5 Pacific and 8 Eastern.

::sigh::... well, any chance we could decide on the draft date more than a day or two in advance this time? With my comp's shaky state right now, I can;t promise anything, but I will try to make it.

I ask a favor of you Evo... Any chance this list could be updated with the venues and cities the events took place in?

Thoth, if you want to play Texas hold-em against King, you are nuts. Hell, even IRL, you're still nuts. Myself, I've been playing since I was 5. Not that I am any good, but I can win a hand here or there.

I've also read "The Sun Also Rises" and thematically, I liked it. But I disliked the wrting if that makes any sense. Hemingway, at least to me, is a little too stream of conciousness to maintain a narrative and my interest.

A.) I do not. I don't even like the baseball variant of poker. Seven card stud... B.) By offline draft, do you mean we do it in chat or something? In that case, as usual, I must protest as I rarely can make the draft.

I have received this request before, so CC is looking into it. I will keep you all updated. Promise.

Dangerous and Clark: No extensions from me tonight. I have some things to do and will be unable to get back to my computer until about 10 or 11 tomorrow morning. Let me know if this is a problem...

Then you didn't get the point I was going for. Sorry. Be shocked, be appalled... whatever. I have stopped caring, to be honest. Here's the thing: I like the WWE right now, as it stands. You don't for reasons that I can't begin to fathom. We will never agree on anything, so I am going to stop wasting my words. Sorry I ever started...

In this case, I am blaming the fans, or rather, the "smarks", for not liking things which are not, in and of themselves, bad. When has the WWE, or wrestling in general for that matter, ever given anyone the idea that it is continuity based, linear storytelling? If it were, then nobody would ever form tag teams since at some point, most of them have fought before. The proper way to look at it, at least from where I stand, is selective continuity. This month, for example, it might be useful to bring up the fact that Jericho and Kane have had issues in the past. Then again, how relevant is that to now? As far as good matches, I see at least one or two good matches a week on WWE television. I think that the "smarks", to continue making a sweeping generalization, have set their standards too high. You can't have a show filled with ****+ matches twice a week. Doesn't work that way. Heck, I was watching back in the long-gone days where a three hour show was filled with matches where stars beat jobbers. If you were lucky, you got to see two mid-carders go at it late in the show. I consider the current situation to be far superior. And if it came off that I was condemning people for not liking the product, then I apologize. I can understand many of the reasons people dislike what is going on now. I was, however, referring to the glut of "smarks" that seem to be looking for a reason to complain about the shows. Most of what I read here is not what I would call constructive criticism. Most of it sounds like very critical and bitter people complaining treating their opinion as hard fact. It is the nastiness and mean-spiritedness of it all that both frustrates me and makes me want to defend the show I enjoy. And when I said I wasn't "Anti-Smark", I didn't mean that you should not express your opinion. This is a free country, and a free forum. As long as you follow the posting guidlines, say whatever you want. I just disagree with, well, nearly everyone here apparently. Oh well, so be it. As a wise friend of mine once said, "No one has ever changed anyone's mind on this board, and it won't start now." Perhaps I am guilty of trying too hard to get my point across.

Rajah was one of the first sites I came across when I got into the whole Internet Wrestling thing. I learned fast to disregard most of their info.

One thing about KoR 2002 though... If you skip it you miss a pretty decent match between Eddie and Ric Flair. BUTT more importantly, you get to see Hulk Hogan tap to the Ankle Lock. I was there and I admit to saying this is among the greatest live wrestling expieriences I've ever had. Angle was solidly the heel, but as soon as he hooked in the Ankle Lock, the crowd went bonkers wanting to see the Hulkster tap.

Did some checking on that. I was wrong, but I swear to you I remember lookg over at my friend and saying "I bet the WWE is loving having Angle as their champ right now." Oh well...

I didn't say that. And by the same token, it doesn't make you a real fan to dislike the WWE. Here's the thing, I'm not "anti-smark". Really. And I'll be honest, when I first got back into wrestling and started reading about it on the INet, I agreed with most things that were said. But as the past few years have gone by, everything has become very, very negative, extremely critical and, frankly, a little mean for my tastes. You say there hasn't been a good PPV (other than WM X7 and NWO '01) since Judgement Day 2000? That I have to disagree with. Off the top of my head? - SummerSlam 2000 (TLC I, HHH / Rock / Angle, Benoit v. Jericho) - Royal Rumble 2001 (Benoit v. Jericho Ladder Match, Angle v. HHH, Kane rules the Rumble) - Judgement Day 2001 (Angle / Benoit 2/3 falls, Kane v. HHH chain match, Jericho & Benoit win Tag Team Tumoil) - Vengeance 2001 (Jericho wins Undisputed Title) And that's just off the top of my head. SummerSlam and Survivor Series were both good the last two years. WMXIX was a good show. I have no regrets having boughts all of those Pay-Per-Views.

To be fair, Angle was already champ when 9-11 happened. Fortuitous planning, as it turned out.

Im sorry. Why? Oh... that's right. I forgot I'm on the WWE board where everyone watches, nobody likes anything and if they do they won't admit it for fear of being labelled a "mark". Well label me what you'd like then. I like the WWE. I think that while they had some issues during the Invasion era, they have turned things around and have put on a great run of both PPV's and regular television. And while I'll admit to thinking Booker T should have gone over at WMXIX, and I think this year I would prefer HHH v. Benoit as a singles match (where I think Benoit should go over), I will cop to liking many of the things that are generally regarded as "crap" here. The rain and lightning effects for Taker. Awesome. The Jericho / Trish / Christian storyline? Cool. The Big Show? Smackdown MVP of 2003. Triple H? Will be remembered as one of the greatest ever. I'd joke about having to turn in my Smarks Club Card, but I never had one really.

To be fair, a lot of those numbers that declined severely have direct "pocketbook" impact. That is, they are relatively expensive out-of-pocket luxury items for the average wrestling fan. The economy, while showing signs here and there of a recovery, is still bad from the bottom up. And since most of WWE's fanbase hang in the middle class, they haven't seen the recovery yet. I know I skipped a WWE show this year because I just didn't have the cash to go and I haven't missed a Pay-Per-View since Judgement Day 2000.

I was going to ask who pissed in King's cornflakes this morning, then it occured to me that he only hates baseball by association... so I let it slide. On the other hand... Poker is crap. You ever seen "Rounders"? Crap. Total boring crap. There... karma is restored...

okey-doke... if it is an offline draft, I am there. And I will just delete the league i was making when I saw this post...