Kaertos

The camera pans around the half open door of Commissioner Mark Stevens’ office and ducks inside. Dace Night stands in front of the Commissioner’s desk in animated discussion with the Heavy Hitter. “Now Mark, I know Terrence is taking on that Maori asshole on the Pay Per View, but that won’t cure my aggressions Mark.” Dace says, clenching and unclenching his fists slowly. “So I need something to help with that on the Pay Per View.” “I fully understand that Mr. Night. But I can’t have you running around getting up to some of your antics. They could have a bad effect on the show.” Stevens answers back from his desk, flicking slowly though some papers infront of him. “I know that Mark. But what about someone like Charlie Matthews? You saw what security had to do to get us apart after the match last week.” Dace lets a grin slip across his face. “Besides, it’s not like I’ll get booed if I nail him with light tubes.” “Well Mr. Night there is always that possibility. I’d have to see what Mr. Matthews would say to that though. You know he’s less than keen on all this new age hardcore stuff that you enjoy so much…” *SMASH!* The half open door swings wide open and smash against the office wall, sending a shower of glass to the floor as Charlie Matthews bursts into the room. Diving at Dace from behind, The Grappler slams a forearm into the back of his head before smashing Dace’s face into the Commissioner’s desk. “What the hell are you doing, Charlie?!” Stevens yells as he pushes up out of his seat and hammers the security button. Wrapping his arms around Dace’s neck, Charlie hauls him up into a Sleeper Hold, choking the life out of him as he grins across at Mark Stevens. “Easy, I’m accepting Dace’s challenge to a match. So go on and give us whatever match you want!” As security guards flood through the door at Mark’s yell to break the two men apart, Dace jams a back elbow into Grappler’s ribs, half spinning the both of them around. Wrapping his arms around Charlie’s waist, he snaps his weight backwards, sending Matthews up over head and brings them both crashing down…. *SSMMMMAAASSSSHHHHH!* …with a Backdrop though Mark’s large ornate office desk, leaving both men in a pool of splitters, broken panels, papers and stationary as the Heavy Hitter glares on at the wreck of the desk! Waving to security to drag them both away, yelling out of the door after them. “Ok Charlie, being as you like old school so much, you can have old school. But I’m not leaving Dace out either. Since you seem to like to make a mess of things, you can both make a mess all you want in something that mixes old school and hardcore … A Texas Death Match!” The camera fades out as the stunned pair are dragged out of the office by security staff.

*BOOM!* SWF Storm EXPLODES back onto the airwaves in a big way, as Pantera’s “Becoming” blasts over the speakers and blue and silver pyro explodes everywhere! The Laramie, Wyoming fans begin booing as the former Hardcore, Tag Team, and ICTV Champion walks out onto the stage as Funyon commences introductions! “Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is a special attraction triple threat DUMPSTER match! The winner of this match will be the first man to place BOTH of his opponents in the dumpster and shut the lid! Introducing first, from Sydney, Australia, weighing in at 238 pounds, this is STRYYYYYYYYYYKEEEE!!!!!!” “Hello citizens, and welcome back to SWF Storm!” Cyclone Comet calls out as Stryke continues his walk down to the ring, “We’re coming right back at you from the break with what should be a balls to the wall, flat out brawl!” “Damn right, Comet,” agrees Riley, “but as they say, one of these is not like the other. I can’t wait to see Va’aiga and Grappler take out the mini-man in this match, Stryke. Like hell he belongs here.” Stryke enters the ring and leans against the turnbuckle as the lights in the arena go out. Without delay, Metallica’s “Some Kind of Monster” explodes from the speakers, and the jeering from the Wyoming fans continues. A sole spotlight shines on the entryway as James Matheson walks out, showing off his meal ticket. “Next, from Kansas City, Missouri, weighing in at 287 pounds and accompanied by JAAAAAAAAAMES MATHESON, he is CHAAAAAAAAAARLIE ‘GRAPPLER’ MAAAAAAAATTHEWSSSSS!!!!!!!” Matthews walks out, slowly walking down the ramp, completely focused on the squared circle. He steps into the ring as Matheson takes his place at ringside. With that, Method Man’s “Bring the Pain” kicks in, and a hooded figure appears on the stage as the lyrics begin. Ka mate, Ka mate! Ka ora, Ka ora! Ka mate, Ka mate! Ka ora, Ka ora! Tenei te tangata puhuruhuru Nana i tiki mai whakawhiti te ra! A hupane, kaupane A hupane, kaupane whiti te ra! Hi! “And finally, from Rotorua, Aotearoa, weighing in at 309 pounds, this is the MAOOOOOOOOORI BADASS, VAAAAAAAAAA’AAAAAAAAAIGAAAAAAAA!!” The jeering reaches a fevered pitch as Va’aiga steps into the ring, removing his robe and facing his opponents as Nick Soapdish calls for the bell! *DING DING DING* All three men are reluctant to start, but Va’aiga and Grappler both turn to each other, nod, and rush at Stryke! Stryke doesn’t have time to react as both men lunge their bodies at him, crushing him against the turnbuckle! Va’aiga begins pounding Stryke’s face with hard fists as Charlie sends successive kicks into his gut. Satisfied with their work, both men back off. It’s Grappler who goes forward and drags Stryke out of the corner, holding him by the arm and whipping him into the ropes. Stryke rebounds and comes towards Charlie, and as he does, Matthews swings his arm around for a clothesline, but Stryke ducks…only to eat a Va’aiga flying shoulderblock and fall to the mat! “Good lord!” shouts Comet, “that’s like a freight train colliding with you!” “Ba-da ba ba ba,” sings Riley, “I’m lovin’ it. Va’aiga and Charlie Matthews are giving that punk Stryke the beating he deserves.” Charlie rains stomps down on Stryke, but Va’aiga brings him to his feet and drags him over to the corner. Once there, Va’aiga assaults Stryke with a left cross and a right cross, before kissing his fist and winding up…but Stryke ducks under this death blow and charges past the Maori, instead leaping into the air and sending his boots right into the face of an unsuspecting Grappler in the center of the ring! The crowd, surprisingly, roars as Matthews staggers back into the turnbuckle. Incensed, Va’aiga spins around and lifts his own leg into the air with velocity, aiming for a yakuza kick. Stryke ducks THIS as well, and runs to the turnbuckle, where he climbs to the second rope and lures Va’aiga in. As the Maori Badass turns around, Stryke leaps off and grabs a front facelock on Va’aiga, spinning around and falling back, spiking him onto the mat with a swinging DDT! “I can’t believe this!” begins Comet, “Stryke is actually making a comeback against these two men!” “It won’t last long,” replies Riley, “Stryke is nowhere near as vital as either man…it’d take an army for Stryke to finally put these two men in a dumpster.” Stryke turns around after the big move, only to have Grappler waiting for him as he hoists him into the air in almost a torture rack. Matthews holds him here for a few seconds as he begins to fall back with the Judgment Slam, but Stryke scurries out of the stronghold, taking a step back before lunging forward and shooting his boot at Matthews’ head, connecting with a superkick! The Wyoming crowd starts to get into Stryke, cheering as Matthews drops to the mat. Stryke doesn’t hesitate in walking over to Va’aiga, lifting him up and preparing to send him into the dumpster. He begins walking towards the trash…but Va’aiga lifts his knee up, stunning the Australian. With that, Va’aiga rains down forearms on Stryke’s back, further weakening him. Quite easily, the Maori hooks Stryke in a front facelock and, using his tights, hoists him upside down into the air. Va’aiga holds him here for a few seconds before sitting out, driving Stryke’s head to the mat with a falcon arrow! The crowd’s jeering commences as Va’aiga shouts a loud “BOO – YAH!” to the Wyoming crowd, and Matthews returns to his feet. The two men nod to each other from opposite sides of the ring, and Va’aiga brings Stryke to his feet. With that, the Maori grabs Stryke by the arm and whips him into the ropes, towards Matthews’ side. Stryke hits the ropes and comes back, just as both men lower their shoulders and charge at both sides of Stryke, as VA’AIGA SPEARS HIM FROM THE FRONT AND GRAPPLER CHOPBLOCKS HIM FROM THE BACK!!! “HO – LEE – SHIT!” “HO – LEE – SHIT!” Stryke crumples to the mat after the vicious double team, which leaves the Wyoming crowd in awe. “That was one of the most brutal things I’ve ever seen,” begins Riley, in a concerned voice, “AND I LOVE IT! Violence at it’s finest, baby!” “You sicken me sometimes, Citizen Riley,” replies Comet, “but not as much as these two men do right now. This isn’t about destroying one of your opponents; it’s about winning the damn match!” Va’aiga signals to Matthews, who nods and picks Stryke up, easily throwing him outside the ring, near the dumpster! Charlie follows him out and lifts up the dumpster lid, bringing Stryke’s body up to take out the proverbial trash, when all of a sudden…the crowd begins cheering. Louder and louder. IT’S DACE F’N NIGHT~! The Wyoming crowd EXPLODES as Night emerges from the crowd, right into the ringside area with a barbed wire-wrapped chair! Matthews turns around, just to see the high priest of Horrorcore swing the ultraviolent weapon right at his exposed forehead! *CRAAAAAACK!* Matthews collapses to the floor as James Matheson flips out at ringside, much to the delight of the fans. Matheson charges over to Night, which was obviously a very bad move as Dace swings the chair low, connecting right with Matheson’s crotch! *CHING!* The males in the crowd sympathize, but still cheer the actions of the ultraviolent one as Matheson crumples to the mat in pain! “THIS IS UNBELIEVABLE!” rejoices Comet, “DACE NIGHT has saved the day, vanquishing the foes that are Charlie Matthews and James Matheson!” “I wouldn’t count on that, Comet! If I were Dace, I wouldn’t turn around!” Dace doesn’t here Riley, however, and he turns around, just to see Va’aiga swinging his arm with unbelievable force, connecting the blow right under Dace’s chin! Night collapses to the floor next to the other three bodies after the massive Lariat, the fans booing all the while. “BOO – YAH!” Va’aiga walks over to Stryke and hoists him up, beginning to push him into the dumpster- *CHING!* -but Stryke shoots his leg back, connecting with a mule kick to Va’aiga’s testicles! The big Maori holds his little Maoris as the crowd cheers in approval. Stryke rolls Va’aiga back into the ring, but not before reaching under the apron and producing two steel chairs, which he brings back in with him! Va’aiga is already up waiting for Stryke, but the Aussie swings one of the chairs, connecting right with Va’aiga’s hard head! Of course, the Maori absorbs the blow, but Stryke expected this, so he throws the chair at him! Va’aiga catches the chair out of instinct, and Stryke then shoots his leg forward, super kicking the chair right back into his face! This STILL doesn’t send Va’aiga to the mat, and so Stryke runs to the second turnbuckle and launches off, pumping his body as he soars through the air, landing right on top of Va’aiga, falling to the mat on top of him with a frog splash crossbody block! Meanwhile, outside of the ring, both Dace and Grappler have recovered, and begin trading blows! Night throws a wild elbow that Grappler ducks, and he positions himself behind Dace, wrapping his arms around his throat and forehead, executing the dreaded sleeper hold once again! Dace has this move scouted, however, and he begins backing up, driving Matthews’ back right into the side of the dumpster! With the hold broken, Dace spins around and kicks his leg out, connecting with the back of Matthews’ head in a beautiful enzuiguri! The force of the blow causes Matthews to fall against the ring apron, almost unmoving. Inside of the ring, Stryke brings Va’aiga to his feet…only to have the Maori send a BIG headbutt to the Aussie, dropping him right to the mat on impact! At this time, Dace has Charlie on the ring apron, and holds him tightly in a standing headscissors! Signaling to the crowd, Night hoists Matthews up in the air in an AMAZING showcase of strength, before dropping him down to the left, INTO the open dumpster with a POWERBOMB! “INJUSTICE!” cries Riley, “DACE NIGHT JUST USED CHARLIE MATTHEWS’ OWN FINISHER AGAINST HIM, RIGHT INTO THAT DUMPSTER!” “You can’t say he didn’t have that coming!” retorts Comet, “and it looks like Dace has evened up the odds against this…unlikely alliance of Va’aiga and Charlie Matthews!” Va’aiga, however, sees what Dace did, and storms onto the ring apron, where he gets into a shoving contest with him! Night zones in with a big elbow smash, but Va’aiga sidesteps it, and sends a clubbing blow to Dace’s head, which causes him to fall off the ring apron! While this is going on, however, Stryke is in the ring, and he picks up the two chairs lying on the mat. Holding one in each hand, Stryke sneaks up behind the unsuspecting Va’aiga and swings both chairs at the Maori’s head, sandwiching him with a one-man conchairto! The crowd roars as even Va’aiga’s head can’t take this much, and he drops forward…right into the dumpster! *DING DING DING* “I can’t believe this!” cries Comet, “Stryke has won this triple threat dumpster match!” “But this isn’t fair!” complains Riley, “Stryke never really eliminated Grappler!” “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,” begins Funyon, “THE WINNER OF THIS MATCH, STRYYYYYYYYYYYYKEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!” “Becoming” kicks in again as Stryke exuberantly leaves the ring, marching up the ramp to avoid any further contact. Dace, on the other hand, gets up and brushes himself off, acknowledging the ringside fans. Night looks like he’s ready to attack Matthews again…but instead gets a better idea, as he begins walking up the ramp, heading backstage. “What on earth could Dace be up to?” questions Comet. “Oh, who cares?” shoots back Riley, “That boy is going to get his one of these days, Comet, I can feel it.”

Storm returns to the airwaves, and the fans immediately start to scream as they find Mak Francis wandering the hallways backstage. With his shades on, he looks totally “Franchiseable”…feeling very good about himself. He passes a door on his right and turns a corner… “WHOA!” …but just as he turns the corner, he sees a gigantic dark figure enter a door just beyond the corner on the right. Francis looks around for any spectators, and then mumbles… “Now Mark to save your ass this time.” Mak peeks around the corner to ensure the monster has entered the room, and he finds the door ajar ever so slightly. Convinced his adversary has gone inside, Francis creeps around the corner and slowly pushes the door open. Making as little noise as possible, Francis pokes his head in the door, and then he pushes it totally ajar. “That’s odd…” The camera enters the room and pans the surroundings, but HVT is no where to be found. Francis shakes his head and then backs out of the room, closing it behind him. “Man, I must be wound too tight tonight…I’m starting to see things.” He backs away from the door… THUD! …but he backs right into a gigantic figure… CRACK! …AND HE IS FLOORED BY A STEEL CHAIR RIGHT TO THE HEAD!!! (HVT) – Whut up bitch?!? So, you like to sneak up on people, huh? Francis, on the ground opens his eyes and stares straight up at Thugg, with anger all over his face, but he doesn’t back down. (HVT) – You gonna make me quit? YOU? Make me quit? You? Make HVT give up? Please bitch! You shook bitch…look at you…you know you ain’t got shit on me! Francis merely stares back at Thugg, still unwavering in his attempt to show Thugg and the world that he isn’t scared. (HVT) – You should’ve finished me off cuz…cause now it’s your turn. Thugg raises the chair… CRACK! …and brings it down hard on Mak’s previously injured knee! “AAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHHH!!!” (HVT) – Yeah, that feel good don’t it? CRACK…again on the knee! “AAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHHH!!!” (HVT) – What? You want more? CRACK! (HVT) – Just say what I wanna hear! Just say it and it’ll end. You know you want to… CRACK! (HVT) – Whateva yo…fuck this. I’m done with you. HVT rears the chair all the way back, the impact area aimed directly at Mak’s head this time, and he swings… …but before he makes contact, HVT is driven backwards by about 10 referees and security guards! (HVT) – YO! GET THE FUCK OFF ME! Mak’s saviors drive Thugg away from Francis, who sits holding his knee. (HVT) – GOD-FUCKING-DAMMIT! YOU’RE FUCKIN’ DEAD BITCH! YOU’RE FUCKING DEAD! THIS AIN’T GONNA WAIT TILL SUNDAY! YOU’RE ASS IS DEAD TONIGHT!! THEY GOTTA LET ME GO SOMETIME, AND WHEN THEY DO, I’M COMIN’ FOR YOU BITCH! I’M COMING TO FINISH THE JOB! YOU CAN’T RUN…YOU CAN’T HIDE…ALL YOU CAN DO IS PRAY BITCH…CAUSE I’M GONNA WRECK…YO…SHIT! The guards and refs drive Thugg around the corner and out of sight while the camera closes in on Mak’s face. “I’ll be waiting.” Fade to commercial.

We're on in three. Two. One. Bright lights flash as the cameras of SWF Storm come on the air, and the crowd is as noisy as ever! As the cameras pan around the Laramie Arena-Auditorium, showing the place is packed from ringside all the way to the rafters, the various fan signs begin popping up. From "Ejiro Suxx0rs!" to "Bump The Black Angel", all the way to simple signs such as "Smark!" with different pointing arrows, and the ever popular "Hi Mum" signs. Finally, the cameras pan down past a "Janus/WC = *****" sign on the way to the announce table, where we meet everyone's favourite ambiguously gay announcer Bobby Riley, and his ever excited partner, the venerable superhero known as Cyclone Comet! "Good evening fans and citizens, and welcome back to SWF Storm! I'm CYCLOOOOOOOOOOOONE COMET here with Bobby Riley, and we've just seen an astounding US Title match between Superspy Dangerous and the slick Citizen Linchpin!" "But I think this next match will outdo it, Comet - we have two goodie goodies about to beat the hell out of each other! Or better..." "Well, yes... Citizen Bailey and Citizen Wildchild have their much awaited title match coming up, Robert. Though in his last match, the big man was hardly hardcore." "Oh, Wildchild will make him, Comet. Hopefully with a few chairshots that'll bring out the REAL big guy!" "I don't think Terrence likes his past being brought up, Citizen Riley..." Before Bobby Riley can make a response, the crowd cheers faintly for the dropping out of the lights. A familiar sound of heavy footsteps echoes from the Smarktron, and the words [HEIGHT: 7'20] overlay black boots in digital green text. As the Smarktron pans back, revealing clenching fists along with a scarred chest and white trenchcoat, [WEIGHT: 360lbs] flashes across the screen as well. The digital green words fade out as the Smarktron pans further, revealing white and black hair hiding a face that holds a pair of sharp green eyes... I stand firm in my solidarity The path I walk (the path I walk) I walk in with my own resolve... The figure flips his hair back, revealing the careworn face of Terrence "Janus" Bailey! As Killswitch Engage's "When Darkness Falls" echoes across the arena, the stage curtain is pushed aside by the behemoth as he strides out onto the stage! Clutching a steel chair in his hands, the giant lifts it above his head and black and white pyrotechnics blast into the air as Funyon yells to be heard! "The following contest is a HARDCORE GAMERS TITLE MATCH, scheduled for ONE FALL! Introducing first, the challenger! Standing at seven-foot-two, weighing three hundred and sixty pounds, he hails from Sydney Australia! Please welcome the Anti-Heel Machine....... TERRRRRRENCE 'JAAAAAAAAANUSSSSSS' BAAAAAAAAAILEEEEEEEEY!" When darkness falls (when darkness falls) We are reborn A dream since the fall of man We are reborn... The seven footer strides down the ramp, switching to a one handed grip on his chair as he slaps hands with the occasional fan, a smile on his face. He stops by the ringside steps to take off his trenchcoat, calmly folding it up before placing it at the timekeeper's desk. Picking up the steel chair once again, Terrence rolls under the bottom rope and rises to his feet. Referee Sexton Hardcastle nods to the giant, who takes a practice swing with the chair before resting in the turnbuckles. "No Equalizer for Citizen Bailey today. It seems he only uses it against those who deserve to be punished." "Wildchild does!" Riley whines. "For what, Robert?" "For all the things he's ever done to Ejiro." Comet doesn't dignify that with a reply, as the arena once more plunges into darkness. A white spotlight flashes intermittently on the stage, precisely in tune with the sound of Redman's "Let's Get Dirty". A familiar figure bounds out into the spotlight, in aquamarine jumppants and facepaint. As the Wildchild, with the Hardcore Gamers Title strapped around his waist, races for the ring, Funyon lifts his microphone once more. "And his opponent! From the Bahamas, standing at five-foot-eleven and weighing two hundred and fourteen pounds... he is the Hardcore Gamers Champion..... WIIIIIIIIIIILDCHIIIIIIIIIIIIILD!" Springing up onto the apron and somersaulting into the ring, the Bahaman native leaps onto the middle rope and holds the Hardcore Gamers Title above his head, before backflipping off the ropes. Tracked only by the spotlight, the Bahaman native heads across to the opposite side of the ring and holds the belt up again, as "Let's Get Dirty" culminates with... I CAN'T GET IN DA CLUB! ...and the lights come back up! Wildchild hands the title belt over to referee Sexton Hardcastle before turning his eyes to the Anti-Heel Machine. Stepping out of the corner, the giant holds his steel chair before him like a gift, offering it to the Bahama Bomber. Suspiciously, Wildchild raises an eyebrow and looks up at Terrence, who cracks a smile and continues holding the chair out. Finally, the Human Hurricane takes the chair as Hardcastle looks on, and the referee calls for the match to begin! *DING DING DING!* "And the match begins, with a twist as Terrence hands his steel chair to the Bahama Bomber!" "What IS he up to?" Riley frowns. The ambiguously gay co-announcer gets his answer as Terrence doesn't move an inch, waiting for the Bahama Bomber to make the first move! Wildchild gladly obliges, swinging the chair into the Anti-Heel Machine's ribs! Barely moved, the giant motions for the champion to bring it on, and Wildchild responds by throwing the chair back at Terrence! Catching it easily, the big man is then staggered as the Bahama Bomber slams a shuffle sidekick into the chair, driving it back into the Anti-Heel Machine's ribs. Darting to the ropes as Terrence drops the chair, Wildchild springboards back, twisting himself in midair... ...catching the giant by the head... ...and taking him down with a head-locking bulldog into the steel chair! The crowd pops for the fancy move, but the Bahaman isn't finished yet, as he rebounds off the ropes and drops a swift running elbow drop into Terrence's back. Quick as lightning, the Wildchild is sliding out at the far end of the ring as the Anti-Heel Machine begins pushing himself up. Dragging a table from under the ring, he quickly sets it up on the outside before searching once more, beginning to drag out a large ladder. The roar of the crowd makes him look up as Terrence barrels across the ring, throwing his three hundred and sixty pound frame straight out of the ring in hopes of tackling his foe. But Wildchild has vanished like lightning, and the giant crashes into the ground next to the table. "Citizen Bailey looking to take his foe by surprise with a charge that misses!" Comet calls. "Wildchild's just running from him, Comet!" Riley sneers. Grimacing, the Anti-Heel Machine scans the area for his opponent. He spots the chair, the set up table, and the half-under-the-ring ladder, but no Wildchild. But he realises something is up when the crowd pops once again, and he turns around to see the Bahama Bomber racing along the top rope with incredible agility! Throwing himself off the turnbuckle into the Andros Dive, the high-speed Human Hurricane wraps his legs around Terrence's neck to whip him over into a hurricanrana, but instead EATS MAT as Terrence instinctively drops down in a positively spine-tingling sitout powerbomb! Crying out in pain, the Bahama Bomber kicks his legs and rolls away before Terrence can hold the move for the pin. Rolling back to his feet, Wildchild bolts forward again, nailing the rising giant in the throat with a leg lariat and knocking him back to the ground! With the crowd cheering for his high-speed offense, the Bahama Bomber throws the steel chair in the ring and pulls the ladder out, pushing it under the bottom rope too. "Citizen Wildchild better watch himself, Robert." Comet murmurs. "Because Terrence is already rising once more, eh?" Riley grins. True to form, the Anti-Heel Machine is already on his feet as the Wildchild slides into the ring and rises once more. Turning around, the Bahama Bomber charges the ropes with lightning speed as Terrence climbs onto the apron, springing onto the second turnbuckle. Launching himself over the top rope, he snags the giant by the head and spins around for his patented springboard tornado DDT..... *KA-RUNCH* ....taking the big man headfirst through the table! The crowd cheers for the move as Wildchild rolls the now bloody-faced giant over and hooks a leg, waiting for Sexton Hardcastle. The referee is there in mere seconds to drop down and make the count! ONE! ... .... ..... TWO! ...KICKOUT! Thrusting an arm into the air, Terrence proves that it'll take more than that to put him down. Not arguing, the Human Hurricane bounces back to his feet and drops a quick elbow to the giant's chest. Grunting, the Anti-Heel Machine sits up and rubs his hands over his face as the Bahama Bomber once more dances away from possible retaliation, climbing back into the ring. Pushing himself upright, the bloody faced Australian doesn't make the same mistake twice, and rolls under the bottom rope to re-enter the ring. He's met by the feisty champion, wielding a chair as he smashes it across the forehead of the rising monster, staggering him back into the turnbuckles. Lifting the chair for another shot, the Carribean Cruiser is promptly decapitated by a big boot, courtesy of the indomitable Anti-Heel Machine! "Citizen Bailey making a comeback against the champion's assault, Citizen Riley!" "Pfft, like he has a chance. Terrence is gonna snap, and Janus will break Wildchild like he did before." the ambiguously gay cohost snorts. Following up his boot to the head, the challenger drops a massive leg across the Tropical Tumbler's chest, causing him to wheeze in pain as all the air is driven out of him. Dragging Wildchild upright, Terrence whips him across the ring, and the gasping Carribean Cruiser bounces back and is scooped off the ground for a high-angle spinebuster DIRECTLY ONTO THE LADDER! The crowd winces at the cry of pain emitting from Wildchild's lips as his spine meets unforgiving steel, and Terrence flicks his hair from his face as a frown crosses his features. He looks at the champion, then at the ladder. Shaking his head and letting blood droplets fly, he takes two steps back and lifts one of his hands in the air, wiggling his fingers in the universal signal for the chokeslam. Rolling onto his stomach and crawling off the ladder before climbing upright, Wildchild's eyes bulge as a massive right hand wraps around his throat. "And he's going to go for the ride right on that ladder again! Why go for the neck when you'll break his back, big guy?" Riley chortles. "Stop teasing Citizen Bailey, Robert. It's very unkind of you." "Bite me, superhero." As Terrence hoists the Human Hurricane high into the air, the champion does the first thing to come to mind - and kicks his opponent in the forehead! A flash of pain goes through the Anti-Heel Machine's body as the blow connects with his cut-up cranium, and he loosens his grip enough for Wildchild to drop back to the mat and kick his foe in the stomach! Instinctively doubling over to protect his abdomen, Terrence stares down at a certain steel construct as the Bahama Bomber leaps into the air and hooks a leg over the giant's head.... ...SLAMMING HIM FACEFIRST INTO THE LADDER WITH THE CARRIBEAN CUTTER! The crowd goes wild as Terrence makes an inarticulate cry of pain, that could be 'argh' if it were audible! "DUB CEE! DUB CEE! DUB CEE!" The crowd's chant ringing in his ears, Wildchild rises to his feet, clutching his spine after that painful spinebuster. Pressing his arms into the mat, the Anti-Heel Machine attempts to push himself upright after his head has been scrambled - and fails miserably. Taking in great breaths of air, the Human Hurricane stares at his still conscious opponent and knows he wouldn't get the pin if he tried, hen looks around the ring. Spotting one of the steel chairs, he picks it up and drops it on the head of Terrence Bailey. With the giant's head between chair and ladder, Wildchild bolts to the ropes and bounces back, flipping his body for a senton that is sure to pulverise the Anti-Heel Machine's head further. If he hadn't moved out of the way. Seeing the Carribean Cruiser's legs racing towards him, the giant had pushed the chair off his head and exerted himself to roll to the side and off the ladder! The running senton splash misses its mark, and Wildchild lets out a cry of pain as his spine hits the unforgiving steel of its own accord! The crowd winces in pain for their hero, but also respect the fighting challenger, as duelling chants begin to start up across the arena. "WIIIIILD-CHIIIIIILD!" *clap-clap clap-clap-clap!* "TERR-ENCE BAI-LEY!" *clap-clap clap-clap-clap!* "WIIIIILD-CHIIIIIILD!" *clap-clap clap-clap-clap!* "TERR-ENCE BAI-LEY!" *clap-clap clap-clap-clap!* "Listen to these fans, Robert! Cheering both men on like the warriors they are!" Comet shills. "All this goodwill is making me sick. Where's Ejiro or some respectable wrestler?" Riley mutters. "These two are QUITE respectable, Citizen Riley." "Not when they get THAT sort of reaction." the ambiguously gay one sniffs. The crowd continues their chanting, as both superstars still have life in their veins. Terrence slowly sits up like some nightmarish indestructible creature, shaking his head and spraying blood everywhere as he tries to get his bearings. Seeing the fallen Bahama Bomber, the Anti-Heel Machine pushes himself up and half-crawls over to his foe. Pushing Wildchild off the ladder, the giant presses across him laterally in the hopes of getting the pin and the titles! ONE! ... .... ..... TWO!! ... .....KICKOUT!! "What tenacity from the champion!" Comet calls in awe as Wildchild kicks out from the giant's pin. "He's delaying the inevitable." Riley snorts. Not disputing the count, Terrence rolls off the Tropical Tumbler and scans the ring. Meanwhile, Wildchild takes a breath and clutches at his spine, as he rolls away from the seven foot giant and uses the ropes to pull himself up. Meanwhile, the Anti-Heel Machine wraps his hands around one of the fallen steel chairs, picking the weapon up as he rises, turning towards the champion with an almost blank expression. Hanging on the ropes and staring at the fans, the Bahama Bomber sees them shout and point, and he turns around... ...and DUCKS the massive chairshot! Like a bullet, the body of the Tropical Tumbler races across the ring as Terrence backsteps from the ropes. Hitting the middle rope, Wildchild curls himself up and shoots himself back across the ring in his patented Pinball maneuver as the seven foot giant spins around with the chair swinging... ...and the crowd ROARS in awe as the Anti-Heel Machine, by sheer luck, KNOCKS WILDCHILD RIGHT OUT OF THE PINBALL WITH THE CHAIR! Spinning off to the side in a heap of arms and legs, the Human Hurricane crashes into the ropes and bounces off, collapsing to the canvas in the fetal position. Still clutching the chair, the Anti-Heel Machine steps over to the fallen champion's body and lifts the weapon high above his head, a familiar gleam in his eyes. "Yes! He's just SNAPPED!" Riley cackles with glee. "No! Citizen Bailey! You mustn't!" Comet sounds worried. Terrence tightens his grip on the chair, muscles twitching as he lifts the chair up as high as he can.... staring down into the face of the Bahama Bomber. Then, slowly, the giant lowers the chair and shakes his head, dropping the steel and turning his back. But despite what it looks like, he's not leaving... he pushes the ladder out of the way with a foot, and crouches in one of the corners of the ring. Green eyes lock onto the Wildchild as he convulses on the mat before rolling onto his belly and crawling for the turnbuckle to help himself back up. The giant slaps a hand on his shoulder as the crowd roars, before he CHARGES across the ring. "GOOOOOOOORE....." Riley calls. "DODGED!" Comet responds. Seeing the body-destroying move barrelling towards him with intent to maim, Wildchild does the only thing that comes to mind and lifts himself up onto the top rope! A loud *CLANG* echoes through the arena as the Anti-Heel Machine's shoulder meets the post, and then the Bahama Bomber rolls off the top rope, grabbing the surprised giant by the waist and managing to roll him over with a sunset flip! ONE! ... .... ..... TWO!! ... .... .....KICKOUT! "OOOOOOO!" calls the crowd as Terrence thrusts his shoulder up just before the three. "Almost a victory for Citizen Wildchild!" Comet hollers. "Pfft, it would've just been a fluke win." Riley mutters. Rolling away from the giant as he tries to find his bearings, the Tropical Tumbler scans the ring and notes the two chairs, and the fallen ladder. His gaze lingers on the unforgiving climbing mechanism, and with due haste, he lifts it up off the ground and unfolds it. As he sets it up however he feels a hand fall on his arm, as the Anti-Heel Machine is clearly annoyed with that near fall and moves to whip the Carribean Cruiser across the ring! Wildchild instinctively prepares to rebound and dodge, except for one important fact. The giant hasn't let go of his arm, and as momentum whips him back in, the Tropical Tumbler finds himself hoisted seven feet into the air on broad shoulders! Terrence wastes no time in spinning on the spot for almost a full minute before throwing Wildchild's legs out behind him, locking in a 3/4 facelock and NAILING the Thoughts In Chaos! Staggering drunkenly, the seven footer stumbles away and leans on the ropes as he tries to regain his equilibrium. Meanwhile, Wildchild sprawls on the canvas next to the standing ladder, pain shooting through every inch of his small body. But being the fighter that he is, the Human Hurricane grabs the ladder and begins lifting himself up with it for support. Movement out of the corner of his eye gets his attention... ...and he ducks on instinct! The Knuckle Bomb meant for his face smashes into the ladder instead, shaking the structure. Grimacing in pain, the Anti-Heel Machine, who had hoped to sneak up on his foe, steps back and tries to shake feeling into his hand. Despite the pain shooting through him, the Bahama Bomber begins scaling the ladder, and throws himself off it in a beautiful asai moonsault! Unfortunately for him Terrence catches him over one shoulder and wraps an arm around his head. "ADF II coming up!" Riley crows. "Not if Citizen Wildchild has anything to say about it!" Comet calls excitedly. Indeed, the Bahama Bomber manages to slip out of Terrence's grip, flexibly pulling himself up to sit on the giant's shoulder before dropping down his back. Left empty-handed, the Anti-Heel Machine frowns and spins around, extending his arm for a rolling lariat! But his target isn't home, and Terrence blinks to see Wildchild standing not behind him, but a little further back on the apron. The wily Tropical Tumbler leaps up onto the top rope, and bravely springboards off towards the seven footer with a plan in mind! Wrapping an arm around Terrence's head, Wildchild swings around, looking for one of his signature moves. But hands latch onto his waist in readiness to block the move! But the Carribean Cruiser guessed this would happen, as his momentum swings his legs into the ladder, and he kicks off it and shifts his grip! Swinging around the giant's other side, Wildchild takes Terrence down into the mat HARD with the jump-swinging DDT known as the Presumed Guilty! The crowd cheers for the sheer athleticism of the move as the Anti-Heel Machine eats canvas, and the Human Hurricane rolls to his feet, feeling the pain burning through his body. Terrence rolls onto his back, body twitching in pain, and then Wildchild's eyes fall on the swaying ladder. Before it can collapse, he steadies it and begins ascending, perching on the very top! "An INCREDIBLE show of athletic prowess from Citizen Wildchild, Robert! He managed to take Citizen Bailey completely by surprise, and now I believe he's looking to end this match!" Comet calls cheerily. "How in the.... did he.... what in the..." "Yes, Citizen Riley, Citizen Wildchild used the ladder to shift his momentum! And now he's prepared to defeat Citizen Bailey fair and square!" "That was IMPOSSIBLE!" Riley blurts. Standing high on the ladder, Wildchild stares out across the sea of fans, then down at the fallen body of Terrence "Janus" Bailey. He lifts his arms to the fans as he lightly shifts his feet, turning his back to his opponent far below before leaping backwards off the ladder! From nearly 15 feet in the air, the Carribean Cruiser falls and pushes his body forward into a four-hundred-and-fifty degree rotation! Perfectly executing his aerial finisher, the move known as the Falling Star Press, the Wildchild crashes down... ... ... ...right onto Terrence's RAISED KNEES! The strangled cry of the Bahama Bomber as his ribs smash against unyielding kneecaps makes the crowd wince and 'oooooh' in sympathetic pain. Wildchild rolls off the Anti-Heel Machine's raised knees and flops on the mat like a beached fish, twitching and clutching at his ribcage. The crowd chants indiscriminately for someone to get up, and Terrence grabs the ropes to haul himself upright. "Citizen Wildchild took a finishing gamble that didn't pay off, Robert!" "Haha! Damn straight he did Comet! Now the match is going to end with a brutal beating from Janus..." "That's Terrence, Citizen Riley." "Pfft." As the Bahama Bomber thrashes on the canvas, the Anti-Heel Machine shakes his head and grimaces, looking woozy. He steps across the ring and shoves the ladder, watching the steel crash to the canvas before turning to his rising opponent. Wildchild clutches his ribs and rolls onto his stomach, pawing at the canvas for anything of aid as he pushes himself upright. Looming behind him, his giant foe spreads his arms wide, preparing to make sure it's Over and Out for the current Hardcore Gamers Champion. The Human Hurricane turns around as the Anti-Heel Machine's arms swing closed.... and RAMS a steel chair into the giant's stomach! Gasping, the big man once again doubles over and clutches at his stomach. Dropping the chair and kicking it towards the giant's feet, the Wildchild turns his back to his foe and reaches for both arms, hooking one and then the other in preparation for the Wild-Driver! Unfortunately for the Bahama Bomber, his opponent has other ideas. Pulling his arms free and grabbing Wildchild by the waist, the Anti-Heel Machine straightens up, standing tall with the Tropical Tumbler on his shoulders in the position for an electric chair drop. Wildchild blinks once as his predicament, then looks down and jams a few punches into Terrence's head to shake the giant's grip, before flipping down the front of the giant's body for a victory roll! As he falls down the seven footer's front however, an arm wraps around his torso to pin him there! The other arm reaches around to wrap around the Bahama Bomber's head as the Anti-Heel Machine steps forward and to the side... ...before CRATERING WILDCHILD INTO THE STEEL CHAIR WITH THE ADF II!! The crowd goes BERSERK for the sequence as Terrence rolls the Bahama Bomber onto his back. For extra insurance, the seven footer lifts the Wildchild's legs up and folds them over the champion's shoulders, leaning all his weight down into the folding pin as Sexton Hardcastle makes the count! ONE! ... .... ..... TWO!! ... .... ..... THREEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! *DING DING DING!* The crowd explodes into a round of massive cheers! "NEW CHAMP, COMET!" "I KNOW, ROBERT!" The sound of Killswitch Engage's "As Darkness Falls" roars across the arena as Terrence straightens up and releases the pinning hold. Leaning on the ropes and taking a breath, the giant stares down at the limp body of the Bahama Bomber, the realisation he's won the match finally hitting him as Funyon's voice roars across the arena. The sound of the fans almost drowns the beloved announcer out out, but he soldiers on and raises his voice even more to be heard. "Ladies and gentlemen! Your winner... and NEEEEEEEEEEW! SMARKS! WRESTLING! FEDERATION! HARDCORE GAMERS CHAAAAAAMPION! THE ANTI-HEEL MACHINE.....TERRRRRENCE 'JAAAAAAAAAAAAAANUSSSSSSS' BAAAAAAIIIIIIILLLLLEEEEEEY!" Sexton Hardcastle slides out of the ring to get the title belt, and as an after thought brings Terrence's white trenchcoat back into the ring. Taking the belt from Hardcastle, the big man straps it around his waist before throwing on his trenchcoat. Blood drenches his face as he stares down at the man who had come so close to being the longest reigning champion ever. As the fans cheer, the big man crouches down by the Wildchild, and the dazed expression of the Bahama Bomber meets his. Slowly, the Anti-Heel Machine smiles. Genuinely. And after a slight pause, Wildchild does as well. As the officials come down to check on them both, Terrence Bailey leaves the ring under his own power. The camera focuses on the ex-champion in the ring, then back on the seven footer as he stands on the stage, the Hardcore Gamers Championship around his waist. His gaze is focused on the ring, where the Bahama Bomber is being helped to his feet. After seeing that his opponent will indeed be okay, the Anti-Heel Machine sweeps the entrance curtain aside and disappears backstage. "What an INTENSE match that was, Robert! Both these men did all they could, and one walked away the victor!" "Now all we need is for him to snap again, Comet. Because Janus is a far more entertaining wrestler than Terrence ever will be." "That's NOT funny, Citizen Riley. Anyway, once Citizen Wildchild is helped from the ring, we have a match of possibly nastier proportions... the Maori Badbutt returns, and faces Citizens Stryke and Matthews in a three way dumpster match!" "Now THAT is going to be fun to watch." Riley grins. The two announcers banter as the camera focuses on the Wildchild for a moment. Despite losing the match fairly and squarely, there is a sense of anguish in the Bahama Bomber's eyes. He'd been so close to making history, only to have it taken away from him. The camera lingers for several longer moments on the Carribean Cruiser, before slowly fading out into a commercial hosted by none other than Alex Zenon, advertising the latest SWF console game.

“Son of a bitch! Fuckin’ Mak Francis…and who the hell is Tom Flesher?!? Helpin’ dat punk bitch Francis…they’ll both pay, for real. I’m gonna straight wreck both their shit…and just wait till I find Francis…I’m gonna make dat bitch quit tonight, no bullshit!” With Storm back on the air, Thugg is walking backstage while talking to himself. He’s visibly furious about the actions that occurred just a few segments ago, and now he seeks revenge. He turns a corner and continues down a hall until he reaches a door marked “The Franchise”. (HVT) – Oh yeah…it’s on now bitch! However, before Thugg can push the door open… CRACK!! …he is hit from behind with a steel chair! The fans scream their hearts out as behind a now kneeling Thugg stands Mak Francis holding a slightly damaged steel chair. (Francis) – Looking for me? Facing away from Francis, Thugg’s face becomes even more enraged, and he starts to get back to his feet. His attempts, however, fail as Mak Francis slams the chair on Thugg’s back, sending him all the way down onto his stomach. (Francis) – Well, here I am you worthless tub of lard…do something! Thugg starts to push himself up, but Francis slams the chair down again on his back while the fans cheer his actions. With Thugg down, Mak discards the chair and begins to stomp the big man into oblivion. Satisfied, Francis starts to glance around, and when he finds what he’s looking for, he darts away for a second. The camera pans out and reveals Francis returning carrying two items: a steel pipe and a sledgehammer! (Francis) – You see HVILLE… “HVILLE!” “HVILLE!” “HVILLE!” “HVILLE!” (Francis) – You should have known better than to mess with the Franchise. I’m an impatient man, and I can’t wait until next Sunday…no. You’re gonna quit tonight…no, no…you’re gonna quit now! Francis drops the sledgehammer before taking the steel pipe, and slamming it onto Thugg’s back with a tremendous force. (Francis) – Just give up big boy…It’ll all stop if you just give, and then neither of us have to waste our time at the PPV and I can deal with more pressing matters. BAM…another shot with the pipe. (Francis) – C’mon…it’s not hard. I know you’re stupid, but you’re not that stupid. Just say the words! BAM! (Francis) – SAY IT! TWO WORDS THUGG…JUST SAY IT!! BAM! (Francis) – QUIT!! QUIT!! Francis halts his attack as he sees Thugg’s mouth start to move, perhaps to say the two sweet words that Francis wants to hear. The fans pause their cheering in anticipation of Thugg’s submission… “Fuck you!” The fans boo… (Francis) – Wrong answer Thugg…those were not the two words I was looking for. I guess I’ll have to teach you the hard way. Francis bends down and picks up the sledgehammer, discarding the pipe in the process. The fans explode as he holds the weapon over Thugg’s head, with venom in his eyes. (Francis) – Ya should’ve given up Thugg. Now I’ll feel no remorse putting an end to your great career right now. To hell with the PPV…to hell with waiting…this ends now… Francis raises the sledgehammer high and Thugg closes his eyes. This is the end… It’s over… It’s happening again… His career is over! “FRANCIS!!” (Francis) – What the hell? Mak turns around, followed closely by the camera, where he finds the SWF Commissioner, Mark Stevens standing at the end of the hallway. (Stevens) – Don’t even think about it. (Francis) – What are you talking about Mark? Let me end this big waste of space. He’s nothing. (Stevens) – You do that, and you’re fired. Sorry, but I have to do this…everyone is waiting anxiously to see you and Thugg fight it out next Sunday. This can’t happen now… (Francis) – Man, fuck Thugg. Just let me end him, and then we can both move on to bigger and better things. Don’t act like you two are best friends. (Stevens) – We certainly aren’t Mak, and personally, I’d love nothing more than to see you put an end to him. After what he’s done to me in the past and what his brother did to me, I’d like to whole damn family to be crushed by a dumptruck. BUT…but, now that I’m commissioner, I have to do what is in the best interest of the SWF, however unpopular I might become. No one will be able to say that Mark Stevens was unfair like King was…wait till Sunday. If you wanna pound his head in with a sledgehammer then, by all means do so…but wait until Sunday. Sorry, but it has to be that way. Francis stares at Mark angrily for a long time, and then he turns to the laid out Thugg… (Francis) – You’re one lucky son of a bitch. But next Sunday, Mark won’t be there to protect your ass you fat fuck. You’ll quit…I’ll make sure of it. And just like that, Francis turns and walks away, carrying the sledgehammer with him. Stevens, who has driven the air out of the crowd, takes one look at Thugg, and then leaves as well. Thugg, however, lies on the ground, and when the camera pans in close, he opens his eyes, looks dead in the camera… “You should’ve killed me yo.” Fade to commercial.

We are LIVE and ALIVE from the Laramie Arena in Laramie, Wyoming for another spectacular edition of SWF Storm! Though the show has hardly begun, the crowd, as always, are pumped and ready for another edition of the Soap Opera of Death that is the SWF. Wasting no time in feeding the ravenous crowd their daily dose of SWF action, the technicians in the back cue up the music… … ‘… I’ll Get Inside You…’ … As the introduction of “The Way You Like It” by Adema begins to play, the house lights begin to pulse with the beat, preceding the entrance of none other than Public Enemy Number One, Linchpin. He walks out, adjusting his collar and gloves, grinning as the fans rise to their collective feet and begin to cheer for the Mafioso rookie. Nodding his head to the beat, Linchpin calmly walks down the ramp way, a cool confidence radiating from him. As he slides underneath the bottom rope, Funyon raises the microphone to his lips, ready for his big introduction… Funyon: ‘Ladies and Gentleman, the following match is scheduled for one fall… and is for the S W F United States Championship!’ Upon hearing this announcement, the fans cheer and begin to chant in unison, ‘U S A! U S A!’ The added prize of the United States Championship promises to give the fans a harder fought contest, and they know it, as they wait on tenterhooks. Funyon: ‘Introducing first, from Chicago, Illinois… ‘ Pacing back and forth in the ring, Linchpin begins to smile as he listens to atmosphere in the arena grow by the second. From his position at the commentary desk, Comet studies the new addition to the SWF roster… Funyon: ‘Standing Six Foot Three Inches, and weighing in at Two Hundred and Nineteen Pounds… Ladies and Gentleman of Laramie, please help me in welcoming… LINCHPIN!’ Comet: ‘I have to admit, Robert, that Citizen Linchpin’s calm demeanor is seriously freaking me out! Tonight will only be his third SWF match, and already he will square off against the Secret Agent himself, Johnny Dangerous, for the United States Championship!’ Riley: ‘I have a theory about this, Cyclone. Linchpin doesn’t care if he wins or loses, because he already has a cunning plan to steal the United States Title in mind… that is why I, Bobby Riley, will keep this great prize under close, personal guard.” Comet: ‘I understand it’s the only way you’ll ever hold an SWF Title ever again, so be my guest!’ Riley: ‘… Hey, at least I managed to win one SWF Championship… hack…’ Comet: ‘Hey, Robert? I was looking at the SWF Hall of Fame the other day, but for the life of me, I could not find your name anywhere!’ Riley: ‘…’ Comet: ‘Just as I thought. Anyway enough petty squabbling, back to his contest! Both men are of comparable height and weight, and some would say similar styles. Of course, one advantage Johnny has is six more years of experience on Linchpin, and in my mind, that should be enough to ensure he leaves Laramie the United States Champion!’ Riley: ‘Experience? Experience means nothing. What is it that Johnny has got that makes him stand apart from other wrestlers of his generation? Well, I think we all know the answer to that one, and its not experience or skill.... syphilis. Syphilis. And what a great and heart-warming thing it is... that he has already started passing it on to a whole new generation of young wrestlers.’ ‘Johnny Dangerous!’ And speak of the devil… A sultry female voice introduces the one and only Secret Agent of the SWF, as the lights begin to dim and ‘After the Flesh’ begins to pulse and thump throughout the auditorium. Before Johnny makes his triumphant entrance, smoke must be filled along the entranceway, and lights must pulse to make this smoke glow… Comet: ‘This may be a ‘danger’ match for the Dangerous one. If he doesn’t pay Citizen Linchpin full respect, he may just sneak under the radar and take that United States title away from him…’ And all this must make the entrance of one Johnny Dangerous that much more spectacular. The crowd seems to love it, and cheer uproariously to welcome their beloved Secret Agent. Funyon: ‘… And his opponent, from Las Vegas, Nevada. Standing Six Foot One, and weighing in at Two Hundred and Seventeen Pounds… he is the current reigning United States Champion, he is the Barracuda, he is… JOHNNY DANGEROUS!’ Again, the fans show their love for Johnny as he walks down the ramp way, not before being handed a Martini from a fan and downing it in seconds. Johnny climbs the stairs and enters the ring, acting with the dignity and class of a champion and true Secret Agent. The Barracuda acknowledges the fans by climbing the turnbuckles and raising his arms, soaking up the warm response from the fans. Riley: ‘Eat it up now, Johnny, before Justice and Rule put you in your place! The lower card, I mean.’ Comet: ‘But, he’s already curtain jerking.’ Riley: ‘… I’m very, very tired, and that’s a shoot.’ Johnny unhooks the title from around his waist and hands it to the referee, telling the inanimate object he’ll see it soon enough. Linchpin looks at the glittering prize and rubs his hands together, jumping on the spot as he warms up for the opening bout. Comet: ‘As mentioned before, these two are roughly the same size, and wrestle the same style, though, little is known about Citizen Linchpin… who knows, he may have a few surprises up his sleeve for us!’ Riley: ‘Probably crack.’ Funyon makes a speedy exit from the ring with the US title over his shoulder, before it’s swiped away from him by bobby Riley, who hugs it close to his chest. This leaves only three men inside the squared circle, the referee and the two competitors, who glare at each other, attempting to psych each other out. The referee finally points across to the timekeeper, and we’re ready to go! The bell rings, and the two men circle each other, trying to find an opening in each other’s defense to exploit. After a few circles of the ring, the two finally enter into an elbow and collar tie up. The two grapple, trying to throw one another off balance, but this proves futile with each man’s similar body types. The two shrug each other off, finally, and circle once again, only adding to the crowd’s excitement and anxiousness. Johnny decides to lay down the low on the new guy, and steps forward with confidence, aiming a right hand right at Linchpin’s noggin’. Linchpin deflects the blow with one arm, then delivers… SLAP! A stinging flat handed slap across Johnny’s cheek! The crowd come alive at this moment, cheering wildly as Linchpin begins to take it to Dangerous, nailing him with a flurry of straight right hand punches. Johnny hulks up and counters with some punches of his own! The two trade blows, until Johnny’s classy European Uppercuts win the day, throwing Linchpin off balance and he falls against the ropes. Johnny takes Linchpin by the hand and sends him into the opposite ropes with an Irish Whip and as he returns, spins off to the side, catching Linch around the jaw with a spinning heel kick! Whirling back to his feet in an instant, Linchpin tries to counter, but Johnny acts quickly, leaping into the air, catching Linchpin with a Dropkick! The Mafia man crashes to the mat, as Dangerous slides over quickly for the pin. O N E! T – But Linch kicks out forcefully, quickly getting back to his feet to avoid any more blows. Somewhat stunned by the early onslaught, Linchpin stumbles away from Dangerous, but soon finds himself cornered, literally, as Johnny takes control with right hands, forcing Linchpin against the turnbuckles. Climbing onto the second rope, Johnny raises his fist to the crowd, who cheer and begin to chant in time with each blow. ‘One! Two! Three! Four! Five! Six! Seven! Eight…’ … Before Johnny can continue though, Linchpin extends both arms and clenches his fists, drilling Dangerous in both sides! Letting out a groan as his kidney is crushed, Linchpin lowers his head and grabs Johnny by the legs, suddenly running forward and letting go, causing Johnny to land face first on the top turnbuckle! Taking a moment to regain his composure, Linchpin grabs Johnny by the head and bangs his head against the turnbuckle again and again! And again! Comet: ‘Crude, but effective tactics from Citizen Linchpin!’ Riley: ‘Crude AND smart, reminds me a little of… me.’ Comet: ‘What, que-‘ Riley: ‘Shutup, just shutup, shutup.’ Comet: ‘Evil song!’ Satisfied with the damage done, Linchpin grabs Johnny and brings him out from the corner, locking him into a Suplex position. Linchpin takes one little hop and hauls Dangerous over with a devastating snap Suplex! Linchpin keeps his hold of Johnny, rolling back to his feet. With another little hop, Linchpin nails a second snap Suplex! To complete the triad, Linchpin rolls back to his feet, making sure he grips onto Dangerous tightly. Linch hauls the Secret Agent into the air, holding him completely vertical, ready to drop him from that height like a tree trunk! But the tree trunk counters! At the final second, Johnny wriggles and writhes and slips free from the Mafia man’s grasp! Landing safely back to earth on two stable feet, Johnny applies a rear waist lock, but Linchpin manages to unlock his tight grasp and spin around him with a standing switch. Knowing he has to keep things moving quickly and avoid a grueling brawl, Johnny runs forward with Linchpin still holding him by the waist, literally throwing himself onto the mercy of the top rope and latching onto it tightly, causing Linchpin to loose his grip and somersault backwards across the canvas! Rolling back completely onto his feet and rather pissed off by Johnny’s elusiveness, Linchpin charges at his opponent, arm outstretched, but Johnny ducks underneath the arm, twirling all the way around Linchpin and taking him around the neck in a reverse DDT position! Linchpin reverses the move easily, spinning himself around and taking Johnny by the waist, charging forward and CRUNCHING him against the turnbuckles. Johnny soon turns the tables, reversing positions with Linchpin! The United States champion soon enforces his own harsh brand of justice against the shady Linchpin, pushing against the turnbuckles and rearing back with one arm... "WHOO!" ... Bringing it across Linchpin's chest with a Knife-Edge Chop! "WHOO!" Johnny soon takes Linchpin and yanks him out from the corner with an Irish Whip, following him into the opposite turnbuckles. Just as he is about to hit the turnbuckles, Linchpin braces himself for impact and places his hands on the top rope, springing himself up… and over the charging Secret Agent! As he is in mid-air, Linchpin whirls around, grabbing Johnny by the waist and rolling him up for the pinfall! O N E! But Johnny powers out, pushing Linchpin away. Both men climb to their feet, but Johnny strikes first, leaping up onto Linchpin’s shoulders and flipping back over, hitting a sweet Hurricanrana on the Mafioso! Reaching back, Johnny holds onto one of Linchpin’s legs as the referee slams his palm on the canvas! "Oh my!" exclaims Cyclone Comet, "what a beautiful move from Citizen Dangerous! He finally begins to show his years of experience by drawing Linchpin into his style of fight, and taking control at the pivotal moment!" "However, Justice and Rule > Him. Your thoughts?" "Interesting point, but Neilsen > You." "Acting > You." O N E! T W – But this time, Linchpin is the one to kick out, forcing Dangerous away. The two men rinse and repeat, both climbing back to their feet, but this time, Linchpin counters a pre-emptive strike by taking Johnny around the ankles and tripping him down to the mat face first with a Drop Toe Hold. Johnny hits the mat as Linchpin backs into the ropes behind him, and then makes another journey across the ring to hit the opposite ropes, building up momentum. He releases it as he leaps into the air and comes crashing down on top of Johnny’s head with a leg drop! Linchpin possesses a deadly combination of high flying and brawling techniques, and whatever Johnny can do, he can do better!" "Y'know, it's nice to see you supporting the young up-and-comers, Citizen Riley, very noble of you!" replies Cyclone with a smile. Riley: ‘That's EXACTLY what I'm doing. Nope, no debt to the mob for me, No sir, I love supporting these young up-and-comers...’ Bobby suddenly looks up at the SmarkTron, beginning to sweat as he sees one of his mafia contacts jabbing with an ice pick. Scrambling across the mat like a dirty rat, Linchpin mounts on top of Johnny, sitting on his back while he clutches him by the jaw and yanks back! Mr. Silver pulls back on the Secret Agent’s neck with a vicious chin lock, making it even worse for Dangerous by jumping up into the air and sitting back down, keeping Johnny grounded! Reaching out desperately with one hand, Johnny inches closer and closer to that elusive bottom rope, but when it seems he’s just about to get there, Linchpin lets go of his hold and stands back up, opting instead to drop a knee down across Johnny’s back! The Secret Agent lets out a long, painful groan as Linchpin takes him by the hair and pulls him to his feet. Taking Johnny by the hand, Linchpin whips Johnny into the ropes, and as he returns, plucks him and lifts him into the air and whirls him around in one continuous motion with help from the built momentum. Linchpin suddenly loses his grip of Dangerous, and the Secret Agent manages to land on both feet! Hooking his arm underneath Linchpin’s, Johnny tries a Hip Toss, but Linchpin counters the move, locking his ankle behind Johnny’s. Thinking quickly, Linchpin turns himself inside out to grab Johnny’s opposite arm and pull him to the mat with a Backslide! O N E! T W O! But Johnny kicks out after two! The crowd applaud the efforts of both men in those exchanges, continuing to cheer as they eagerly watch both men climb to their feet together, neither able to gain a firm advantage in this match. Linchpin resorts to brute force to break the tie, diving forward with a lariat! The Secret Agent is prepared for him, however, ducking his head and grabbing hold of Linchpin underneath his arm, using his opposite hand to grab him by the waist and lift him into the air, slamming him back down with a Uranage! Riley: ‘Damnit, Comet! A few more rookie mistakes such as that, and I'll be missing a few kneecaps by morning...’ Comet nods thoughtfully in agreement, "Without kneecaps indeed my friend, and yes, also a critical rookie mistake. After a few hot exchanges, one cannot simply charge wit ha clothesline! That shows no imagination whatsoever! Citizen Johnny was on his toes and was ready to counter! And Johnny will need to be on his toes if he and Wildchild are ever going to have a chance of taking the tag team titles away from the terrible two-some of Justice and Rule!" Just as the crowd is ready to count the pinfall, Johnny changes his mind and backs into the turnbuckles behind him, hopping up onto the second tier and leaping off, bringing the point of his elbow down across Linchpin's chest! The fans show their appreciation as they cheer in unison, watching Dangerous hold the same position for the pinfall. Comet: ‘Again, Citizen Johnny shows his greater experience, kicking Linchpin while he's down, but alas, only a two count for the Secret Agent! It's refreshing to see someone take up my fight for justice, and also to see someone display the talent for harnessing the crowd's energy that I do!’ O N E! T W O! ...But Linchpin powers out! The crowd sighs just a little, siding with the Secret Agent they've come to know and trust. Johnny sets about dismantling the young and feisty Linchpin, lifting the Mafioso to his feet... ... And hooking his arms from behind! Comet: ‘Things don't look good for Citizen Linchpin, Bobby, as Dangerous sets up for the Self-Titled Driver!’ Riley: ‘Just wait for it, Cyclone, just wait...’ Johnny tightens his grip, locking his hands by Linchpin's neck and lifting him from the mat! The number one public enemy has a few tricks up his sleeve, however, leaning back, locking his legs around Johnny's waist. Suddenly, he moves all his weight forward and slips his arms free of Johnny’s grasp, causing both men to roll across the mat, pinning Johnny down with a Victory Roll! O N E! T W O! ... But Johnny kicks out after two again! Comet: ‘With the back and forth nature of this match, hitting more than two moves in succession will be a near impossible task! Linchpin showed wisdom beyond his years with that unique counter, but still, this match is deadlocked!’ Riley: ‘For the most part, a pinfall attempt has only been achieved by a quick rollup or some such, but Linchpin has slowly been working on Johnny’s lower back, and right now, you can tell Dangerous is starting to hurt.’ Johnny tries to work onto all fours, but Linchpin jumps up into the air and sits back down across his back, forcing him to collapse onto the mat! Johnny cringes as he tries to crawl away into the corner, but Linchpin soon meets up with him, lifting him to his feet. Linchpin kicks Dangerous in the stomach before whipping him across the ring, putting extra force and effort behind it. Johnny hits the turnbuckles and is flung forward, sent collapsing to the mat in pain as he hits HARD! Riley: ‘The fair play manual is now out the window, the technical textbook has been burnt, now Linchpin just wants to cause pain.’ Linchpin cockily walks over, the crowd wary of his actions, but cheering him nonetheless. Scooping up Johnny, Linchpin takes a few short steps forward and drops him across his knee with a backbreaker! The crowd cringes and “OOH!” as if they had felt the impact as well. With Dangerous sprawled out across the canvas, Linchpin simply stomps on him again and again! Johnny cries out as Linchpin’s ‘leather’ shoes make forcible imprints on his back. The referee tries to make Linch stop, but he keeps stomping away, again and again. The ref finally takes matters into his own hands, literally, grabbing Linchpin by the shoulder and spinning him around, pointing his finger right at his face and admonishing him for his crude tactics. Linchpin scowls, not taking too kind to authority, and he slowly stalks the referee, as if ready to explode at any moment… Comet: ‘What is this!? This match was exciting, dare I say, even fun! But now, Linchpin has brought this down to Bobby Riley’s level, doing whatever he can to injure poor Citizen Dangerous!’ Riley: ‘What’s more, the crowd are still cheering! I just don’t get it! He is seriously hurting Johnny, blood is appearing from the corner of his mouth, but he is cheered for his shady tactics…” Behind this action, Johnny climbs back to his feet, coughing profusely as he holds his midsection, in tremendous pain. Linchpin just shakes his head, smiling as the fans begin to chant… But, instead of his name, they chant… ‘JOHNNY! JOHNNY! JOHNNY!’ Linch senses something moving behind him and slowly turns around… WHAM! Comet: ‘Dangerous! He’s up! He’s hit him!’ … And is nailed by the Johnny Kick! The crowd begin to cheer wildly, continuing to chant, but Johnny suddenly collapse to the mat holding his back, putting too much strain on it to complete that move. He slowly crawls over and drops his arm across Linchpin’s chest… O N E! T W O! T H R – But Linchpin kicks out! The fans sigh in disappointment, inspired by Johnny’s shock turnaround. Slowly climbing to his feet, Linchpin rubs his jaw, and then looks down at Johnny, who groans as pain shoots up and down his spine. Hoping to add to it, Linchpin lifts the Secret Agent to his feet… … And shoves him between his legs! Linchpin grabs Dangerous around the waist, and hauls him up onto his shoulders… Riley: ‘What the hell…? What’s he doing? Does he really want to risk hitting a Powerbomb, when this match has seen so many desperate counters?’ Comet: ‘I think he knows exactly what he’s doing, and I’m afraid this will be a massacre for poor Johnny…’ Linchpin holds Johnny up, the crowd watch on in awe… BANG! Linchpin brings Johnny back down HARD with a Powerbomb! The fans cry out, but Linchpin isn’t quite done yet… Riley: ‘He’s lifting him up for a second Powerbomb! This must be MU RDER for Johnny! Which is fine, of course, but still, I sympathize…’ With Johnny hanging precariously on his shoulders Linchpin tightens his grip and throws Johnny forward… WHAM! Nailing a SECOND Powerbomb! The referee slides over as Linchpin holds Johnny in place, seemingly for the pin… O N E! T W O! T H… … But Linchpin suddenly lifts Johnny off of the mat once again, but he shifts his position this time, letting Johnny fall on top of his shoulders in a fireman’s carry… Comet: ‘He isn’t done… he isn’t done YET! What is he hoping to prove here…?’ Riley: ‘A message, Comet. A simple, but highly effective, and extremely brutal message…’ Linchpin looks on, rather emotionless, seemingly not taking any pleasure in the pain he delivers. He suddenly takes a few steps forward and falls off to the side… THUNK! …Hitting a Death Valley Driver! Johnny falls out, lying prone of the mat as Linchpin sits up, rather nonchalantly hooking him by the leg… O N E! T W O! T H R E E!!!! The bell suddenly rings as Linchpin slowly and wearily gets to his feet, wiping the sweat from his brow as “The Way You Like It” begins to play, and Funyon announces… Funyon: ‘Ladies and Gentleman, the winner of this match via pinfall… LINCHPIN!’ Comet: ‘A horrific reminder of the Saint Valentine’s Day massacre as Linchpin grounds fair Citizen Johnny and claims the United States Championship!’ Riley: ‘And in such emphatic fashion… I just don’t understand this kid, but I have a feeling we’ll be finding out a lot more about him in the week to come, as this footage is examined by everyone on the roster and at home…’ Linchpin is handed the US title, and he proudly throws it over his shoulder, heading through the ropes and out onto the floor as the referee checks on Dangerous, who is yet to get up. Comet: ‘This match could have gone a lot longer, until a very violent side of Linchpin came out for all to see, but it helped him claim US title, so, best of luck to him, I guess…’ Riley: ‘Awww, don’t be sad Comet, I’m sure he didn’t mean to crush Johnny’s lung.’ Comet: ‘Oh shush you! We’ll be right back after this short commercial break!’ The final vision shows Linchpin wipes Johnny’s blood off of his shiny new belt as we… Fade to black.

As we come back from commercial break, Mak Francis is shown entering the building, in street clothes. He walks down the hall, looking as confident as ever, even though his head is on the swivel. As he rounds the corner, on his way to the free food table, a voice calls out his name. “Hey Mak!” Francis pauses for a sec, but doesn’t really stop, after hearing his name called again. “Mak!” Tom Flesher strides up to the self proclaimed Franchise, with a casual air about him. Mak already knows the question he’s going to ask, but he humors him anyway. “Thanks for helping me out last week, with Ej—” “I didn’t help you.” Flesher looks almost indignant about the curtness displayed. “I’ve had some problems with those two for a while. I didn’t help you. I just came out, because it was the right thing to do.” “Well whatever the reason, I appreciate it and I need a favor. I’ve got a tag match and, I was hoping since you…” Tom pauses to find better wording. “Since you have a problem with them, you and I could team up.” “I would like to take a shot at Justice and Rule, but I’ve got other things to deal with. Thugg’s gonna’ be coming hard after me, after getting embarrassed on national TV. I’ll get that big punk to say those words, if it’s the last thing I do.” mumbles Francis, with a little venom in his voice. “Plus, I actually like having the night off…” Pause. “And besides… I just don’t trust you.” “Well Mak,” says Flesher getting slightly upset, “if you don’t trust me, that’s fine. This doesn’t have to be about trust. If you’ve got my back, I’ve got yours and trust will have nothing to do with that.” “Give me answer after you think it over. People change and sometimes people actually change for the better. Remember that.” Mak seems to be pondering on the statement, as Flesher takes off down the hall. “I’ll catch you later, man.” Tom Flesher has just asked Mak to be his tag team partner and we may see the reunion of the East Coast Legacy, no matter how much I hate that thought! says Riley, while Mak just stands in the hall… “…” …AND OUT OF NOWHERE COMES THE H-VILLE THUGG! “Yo’ you son of a bit—” THUMP! Hey! That’s Thugg, and he just hit Mak Francis over the head with a—with a microphone! says Cyclone Comet, just as surprised as the Franchise is about the sneak attack! HVT is simply mauling the Franchise, in the hallway. Someone get back there! Francis stumbles back into the wall, as Thugg pounds away mercilessly with right hands, and the added force of the BUTT of the mic in his closed fist! The self proclaimed Franchise’s glasses tumble off his face, showing the clear shock in his eyes. He knew he’d get attacked, but not this early. THUMP! THUMP! “F*ckin’ bitch ass!” THUMP! “Kickin’ me in the balls!” *Ding!* OHHHHHHHHHHH! “You like that?” Thugg getting some payback from last week! notes Riley, as Mak slumps against the wall clutching his balls, after the low blow. “Yo’ you thought that shit was funny last week, right?” says Thugg, while he grasps Francis by the collar of his blue dress shirt and throws him up against the wall, banging the back of his head on the cement with one hand. “Yeah, you got jokes, don’t you little nigga’?” Mak looks down form his compromising position and sees a pair of mangled ice blue shades at the feet of HVT, who’s holding a mic in his hand. “Damnit, I liked those ones, you big bastard. You’re lucky I have another pair.” “Yo’ bitch, I don’t think you’re listening me. You can hear what I’m saying, right?” Thugg slams Francis’ head back into the wall. “Right nigga’?!” He shakes Francis by the collar once more to get his point across. “But you’re ass is still acting out?!” Mak just blinks as his head is driven into the wall once again! “You’re gonna say those words right here, right now, BITCH!” THUMP! “Say ‘em!” THUMP! “You trying to be hard.” Thugg shouts, grinding the mic into Mak’s face! “Say ‘em!” … … “Suck a d*ck…” Thugg takes that as throw me into the wall again, but this time toss me across the hall, and bang my head into a plate glass window. The glass begins to show spider cracks, as Mak winces. “I’ll put you’re ass straight through that shit—yo’, say the wor—” And just like that a well placed strike to the rib cage jolts Thugg enough to get him to release Mak. HVT attempts to turn and see just what hit him, but eats an all to familiar palm strike to the chin that forces him to stumble away, briefly. Tom Flesher! Tom Flesher makes the save for Mak Francis! Flesher stands by the slumped Franchise, as referee’s and road agents mob the scene, finally coming to the aid of Francis and now Tom Flesher. Thugg screams, as they attempt to push him away, throwing one man into a wall, but the numbers are two great and they back Thugg out of the hallway and off camera! The first words picked up out of Tom’s mouth on camera are simple. “You got my back?” Mak shakes his head on the ground, still wincing in pain, with a glazed over expression. “Yeah…” The crowd pops at this. “But I still don’t trust you…” “I didn’t ask for that, yet.” Flesher offers Mak his hand and Francis takes it, allowing Tom to pull him to his feet. “Thanks.” says the Franchise, as he looks down at his broken sunglasses and sighs. “I’m gonna’ get him for that…” FADE OUT

::grumble:: I love baseball. I will be a fan no matter what because I love the game. But I am sick to death of the economics of baseball. The Reds have a bad couple of seasons so they have to unload a bunch of decent-to-good ballplayers so they can concentrate on rebuilding from the ground up because there is no way they can afford any good free-agents. Meanwhile, the Yankees come a game from winning the World Series, consider the season a total failure and start throwing money at the wind, grabbing most of the good players and buying another fairly meaningless division title so they can bitch and moan all winter about how their 90+ win season is a failure. Screw 'em. I hate the Yankees. They aren't the problem, of course. The problem is a lack of common sense in the governing of the game. The Yankees are, however, a great example of what is wrong in baseball. Unless of course you are a drooling Yankees fan-boy, in which case I am a whiner and complainer and know nothing about baseball. Sorry about the rant, but I had to complain somehwere, and I knew you guys would at least not mind...

SWF Smarkdown December 1, 2003 LIVE from the SOLD-OUT United Center in the SWF's hometown, Chicago Illinois!! Matches (and promos) due by 11 PM on Monday December 1, 2003 Send to: Suicide King Due to the holidays, many of the SWF superstars were unable to make the trip to Illinois, so this is a short show... but I expect to see promos from lots and lots of people since there are so many of you with the night off without asking! C'mon, there is a PPV right around the corner!! Singles Match Terrence "Janus" Bailey v. John "The Sinner" Duran In a match on Lockdown, Janus and Dace put Va'aiga on the shelf for at least a week. Duran has gotten pretty buddy-buddy with the Maori Badass over the last few weeks and looks to get a little revenge on one part of the Unholy Trinity. Rules: standard singles match Word Limit: 3000 Send to: Suicide King Submission Match The Boston Strangler v. Charlie "The Grappler" Matthews Matthews made his return just recently, both to the SWF ring and to his very successful "Grappler" gimmick. After a brutal brawl with WildChild on Lockdown, he is looking for a more, shall we say, technical match. Strangler was more than happy to oblige, looking to brush up on his moveset for another un at the main event. But the Big Man from Beantown better not overlook the former SJL Champ, or he will be spending a night in traction... Rules: The only way to win is by making your opponent submit. Remember, since you can't lose by DQ, ropes will not break holds. The ref does not have to count any submission that happens in the ropes however, so take your chances. Word Limit: 4500 Send to: Grand Slam Singles Match Ejiro Fasaki v. Stryke Fresh off a loss to Linchpin on Lockdown, Stryke wants to return to the glory of "upper-midcards past". In his way however, is a true master of the squared circle, Ejiro Fasaki, who is looking to make a statement in this match. Who will come out on top? Who knows? What I do know is that the winner will have a ton of momentum going into the year's last Pay-Per-View. Rules: Standard singles match Word Limit: 4000 Send to: realitycheck Singles Rematch "The Franchise" Mak Francis v. The H-Ville Thugg Unknown to the viewers on Wednesday, Thugg was delayed by bad weather after a personal appearance in Minnesota and arrived just before his match was to go on. After the match ended, it wasn't three seconds before Thugg was in Grand Slam's office demanding a rematch on Smarkdown. Stevens relented, on the condition that if Thugg loses this one, there will be no rematch. If he wins, Mak gets to choose the time, place and stip of the rubber match. Rules: Standard singles match Word Limit: 4500 Send to: chirs3 Singles Match for the Intercontinental-Television Championship Xstacy © v. Dace Night Dace finally cashes in his shot at X's ICTV Title tonght, with the XMas PPV just around the corner! And there is no way that X can be 100% after the Tables Match with Tom Flesher on Wednesday, so it looks like Dace has a good shot at his first ICTV Title. But... the ever-amazing X has overcome bigger odds that this so nothing, and I mean nothing, is certain! Rules: Standard singles match Word Limit: 5500 Send to: Suicide King

Two things... If we make the due times earlier, everyone complains they don't have the time to finish the matches, and in fact there are some people in the Fed where a 6 PM due time is about 1 in the afternoon. But, I tend to agree, I personally like earlier due times, but I bend to the will of the Fed. The other is that King may be sick, which is why the show is not up yet. I know he has not been feeling well lately, and he did not show up for Raw last night. Thus, I think this may be more illness related than anything else.

Pretty good show overall once you look past the schedule nuttiness. I'll not give results as I'd rather you read, but suffice to say that the non-winner of the main event wrote a hell of a match and made it very tough to decide a winner...

BOOM!! BOOM!! BOOM!! BOOM!! And magically, SWF Lockdown begins transmission, complete with huge pyrotechnics and theme music. The fans are completely and utterly amped for this show, because at least they won’t have to worry about watching Triple H and Goldberg go at it like on Monday night, and as the camera pans the arena, there are many, many signs, including a few calling for an SWF roulette show. We’ll have to get back to them on that one. “Hello, folks, and welcome to SWF Lockdown, live from the E Center in Salt Lake city, Utah! I’m Bobby Riley, joined as always by the one and only-” “CYCLOOOOOOOOOOONE COMET!” Riley doesn’t look to pleased with Comet’s antics. “Tone it down, Comet. I want to be able to actually hear tonight.” “But as I have told you before, it is superhero custom-” “For a superhero to triumphantly scream out their name, yes, I know that.” Riley sighs. “But can you try not to do it as much?” “Well... I shall try, Robert...” Comet meekly replies, not to sure as to what he should do. “Good.” Riley smiles, happy that Comet is actually listening to him for once. “Well then, let’s get started, because tonight, we’ve got- Suddenly, the lights cut out, the crowd going silent for a second. Then, strobe lights pulse to the beat of the guitar and drums in the background as Saliva’s “King of My World” kicks in, the crowd beginning to boo as they realize who it is. As the first words kick in, the strobes cut out, a pale blue light covering the arena, illuminating the figure of Michael Craven as he walks out onto the stage, no expression visible on his shadowed face, carrying a briefcase in his right hand. Continuing his walk down to the ring, he turns around at the top of the ramp, walking backwards as he stretches his arms out wide, soaking in the crowd’s jeers. Halfway down the ramp, though, he abruptly spins back around, swinging his right arm in a straight path across the top of the stage. “BOOM!” A huge blast of bright white pyro kicks up, the smoke lingering on stage for quite some time as Craven finishes the spin, continuing his walk to ringside without interruption. “Ladies and gentlemen,” Funyon booms,” would you please welcome the King of Nightmares... MICHAEL CRAAAAAVEN!!” Entering casually through the middle and top ropes, Craven quickly scales the turnbuckle closest to him, opening his arms wide and soaking in the crowd’s response, a chorus of heavy boos, as a white spotlight shines down upon him, casting shadows across his face. Mike remains up top, staring back at the entryway before he hops down and makes his way to the center of the ring, snatching the mic from Funyon’s hands. “Well, this is unexpected,” Riley states, “but it looks like The King of Nightmares might have something to say!” The King of Nightmares sets the briefcase down as the lights come up in the arena, Craven’s facial expression showing his disgust in something. “Cut the music.” His cold demand is met, and “King of My World” comes to an abrupt stop, leaving only the sounds of thousands of booing fans behind Craven’s speech as he begins. “I’m out here, with this briefcase, for one reason: to right a great wrong that has been done against your’s truly.” The crowd isn’t in the mood for it, responding in several different voices “Boooooooo!” “You suck! You suck!” “Suck my dick, asshole!” “Get out of the ring!” Craven, though, holds a hand up to them, trying to get them to calm down as he speaks again. “Stop with the unneccessaries and hear me out for a second, you dumb son of a bitches:” Craven’s remark draws stronger boos, the crowd resenting the name he called them. “You’ve seen Mark Stevens give title shots to many a wrestler... except for myself.” The crowd’s boos are quieter this time, some cheering Craven on, those who actually are his fans, or those who do not like Stevens, but most just boo at Craven for his attack on Stevens as he delivers his opening arguments. “Where is my title shot, Mark? When I faced Flesher in that cage, why did you make it non-title? And why haven’t you even given me a shot at the ICTV or Tag titles since you’ve come to office?” Craven pauses, looking up, almost as if he suddenly picked up on something. “I sense something in the air in the SWF right now, and that is blatant discrimination against myself and everyone else who supported King and aren’t your little puppets to play with!” As Craven finishes up, the lights go out... several seconds of hushed silence cause the crowd to become restless... they are clapping, talking, shouting, waving signs, waiting for whatever is about to happen... “CRACK!” The crowd, simply put, explodes! The crack of a bat and the roar of the crowd announce Grand Slam!! It quickly fades into the opening drumline of "Go Home" by Blessid Union of Souls. The SmarkTron lights up with baseball highlights mixed with big spots from Grand Slam's matches while flashing the words "Grand Slam", "Mark Stevens" and "The Heavy Hitter". The various multicolored lights flash in time with the rhythmic drumbeats until the drums roll fast and the lead singer yells out "Go Home", then the arena is flooded with bright white light!! Red and white pyro explodes at the top of the entrance ramp!! When the smoke clears and everyone can see again, "Grand Slam" Mark Stevens is standing underneath the SmarkTron, microphone in hand!!! The crowd erupts in even more cheers for the Heavy Hitter!!! “It’s Stevens!” Comet exclaims. “He’s come to do what is right and smite the evil in that ring!” “Stevens isn’t going to be smiting anyone,” Riley answers back, “not with that knee of his.” “Michael, I don’t know what your problem is, but please, exit the ring,” Stevens asks, only to be vigorously rebutted by Craven. “The hell I am! Ever since you came into power, you’ve been corruptly implementing it to keep guys like myself from causing you ‘problems.’” Craven is seething in anger at this point, his emotions reaching a fevered pitch. “But this is the end of the line. You’re going to listen to me, and this injustice is going to stop.” “I do not understand what he means,” Comet begins, but Stevens interrupts his thought. “So what case do you have?” Stevens inquires. “Hell, from the looks of it, you don’t have any evidence, Craven! And if you’ve got nothing more to say, I have a show that needs to get started, so please prove something or leave the ring.” “Well,” Craven begins, pulling out several papers form the briefcase, “according to these cards and articles I pulled from the TheSWF.net, of all places, it looks like I haven’t gotten a single title shot of any sort while you’ve been commissioner, Mark. Meanwhile, you’ve been rewarding guys like Xstasy, Wildchild, and Johnny Dangerous, some of your buddies, with title shots, and you haven’t forced Flesher into a real title defense since you stole that job from King!” “Bull,” Stevens retorts, “you’ve had opportunities, but you haven’t come through on them. It’s your fault, Michael, not mine.” “I think you’re mistaken, Mark. You’re treating one of the SWF’s longest-serving and most loyal employees like shit. All I’m asking for is a title shot, one-on-one, preferably World, but I’ll take one for the ICTV as well if need be. You give me that right now, then I leave and you get the show back on track, OK?” Stevens pauses for a second, pondering it, then responds. “No. You earn it, Michael. Then you get it.” “Work with me here, Stevens,” Craven stressfully asks fo the commissioner while he paces in the ring, acting as if he were a sports superstar speaking to his agent on a cell phone. “You just give me what I want, and you get what you want, which is this show to go on.” Slowly, Mark brings the mic back up to his lips, ready to answer the deal Craven has put out in front of him. “I don’t negotiate that way, Craven, and you should know that.” Stevens is cold in his reply to Craven’s offer, visibly angering The King of Nightmares. “I don’t negotiate with those who terrorize others.” Craven, however, doesn’t see it that way, even as the fans cheer loudly for the commissioner, a huge chant of “STE-VENS!” breaking out in the upper bowl while Craven scowls, looking for an answer to Stevens’ answer. “Fine then. I see that’s how you’re going to play this. In that case, I have one thing to say to you-” Stevens, though, cuts off Craven’s sentence, instead trying to end this whole debacle. “Security! Remove Mr. Craven from the ring.” “No thanks, I can take care of myself,” Craven replies, hopping out of the ring, then off the apron and onto the floor, taking the briefcase with him. “This isn’t fair!” Riley exclaims. “Craven is right! Stevens is treating him like crap!” Mike walks up the ramp to a chorus of boos, but as he continues his walk up, he slows down, then stops in Stevens’ face looking him down. “I suggest you sit and think about it for a while,” Craven suggests, leaving Stevens with a parting thought. “Choose wisely, Mark, because while there is a right and wrong choice, the wrong choice can have severe consequences...” And with that, “King of My World” hits, Craven exiting stage left, leaving Stevens both alone and befuddled with Craven’s little demand. What’s his problem, Stevens wonders as Riley and Comet respond to the situation that has just unfolded. “What’s Craven mean, Robert?” Comet wonders, unsure as to what Craven could have meant. “I don’t know, Comet...” Riley states, “but I don’t like it. And I don’t think Stevens will either if things do not go Craven’s way...” Stevens continues to look back to where Craven left the stage, even as the crowd cheers for him and chants his name, one thing floating through his head while we fade to black: What trick does Michael Craven have up his sleeve this time?

The E Center in Salt Lake City, Utah, is silent as SWF Lockdown returns from a commercial. The arena is dark, the fans silent… “…AND I WANT YOU!!!!!!!!” BOOM! The crowd roars its approval as the arena rocks with an explosion! The stage is showered with white sparks, and the silhouette of a dreadlocked figure is visible as the fans continue cheering! “YOU ARE THE PERFECT DRUG… THE PERFECT DRUG… THE PERFECT DRUG!” NIN’s “The Perfect Drug” rocks on as the crowd loses their minds! The lights begin to flash now as Xstasy emerges from the spark eruption, the ICTV Belt wrapped around his waist, and saunters down to the ring. He hops the top rope, and gets in, jumps to the nearest turnbuckle. He holds his arms over his head in an X and, getting the same from the fans, sprints across the ring! Once again, he scales the ropes and crosses his arms, and the fans give the sign of the X right back! “Ladies and gentlemen,” says Funyon, “the following tables match is your main event, and it is for the SWF WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP! Currently in the ring is the challenger. Hailing from the Nation’s Capital, and weighing in at 211 pounds, the ICTV Champion… XSTASY~!” The fans pop, and Bobby Riley says, “Welcome back to SWF Lockdown! As you can see, we’re ready to go! Xstasy is in the ring, and…” The music fades out, and the crowd buzzes in anticipation as X tires his hair back, awaiting his opponent. He takes his belt off and leaves it in the corner, where a ring attendant takes it back to the timekeeper. “… his tackle dummy’s about to make an entrance.” The lights go down and the SmarkTron begins glowing white. As the opening guitars of the Philosopher Kings’ “I Am The Man” vibrate through the arena, the words “WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION” fade onto the screen in thin blue lettering. The fans applaud, anticipating the entrance of the Superior One. After a few seconds… BOOM! An explosion of blue pyro and smoke lights up the arena as the song starts to rock out over the sound system! Tom Flesher emerges from the cloud of smoke, striding confidently to the ring as videos of his signature moves alternate in half-second clips with the words “SUPERIOR ONE,” “AWARD-WINNING,” “MAIN ATTRACTION” and “THE MAN.” Flesher pauses on the ramp, crossing his arms over his chest as the fans applaud him. They continue cheering for him as he falls out of his pose and walks to the ring, his SWF Title belt slung over the shoulder of his blue warm-up suit. Flesher climbs the stairs to enter the ring and, making sure to wipe his feet off on the apron, steps into the ring. As the music fades away, Flesher positions himself in the center of the ring. Funyon makes his announcement… “Long ago,” says Funyon, “there was a man from Buffalo, New York, who was troubled by the fact that he had no followers. He embarked on a journey through the SJL and eventually was visited by an angel named Katowski, who he promptly pinned for the SWF World Championship! Now he finds himself in Utah, leader of the Superior religion! Weighing 213 pounds, he IS the SWF World Champion, TOM FLESHER!” The crowd applauds the playful joke about the Mormon religion, and Flesher golf claps. He hands the World Title over to referee Eddy Long and then backs into the corner, stripping off his warm-up suit. As Flesher stretches out, Long shows the belt to Xstasy, and then holds it in the air. He hands it to the outside, and then calls for the bell. DING DING DING!!!!! Flesher and Xstasy move toward the center of the ring. Flesher squares up in a standard Greco-Roman stance, only to eat a lightning-fast kick to the face! He staggers backwards, and X lands harmlessly on his feet. Before Flesher even knows what’s happening, the Xstatic One hits a quick cartwheel, paintbrushing him with two quick kicks in succession to the jaw! The fans applaud as X lands on his feet, then follows it up with a kick to the face that sends Flesher straight into the corner! Flesher starts to shake off the impact, X continues the assault by jumping into the air to aim for Flesher’s face again! This time, by instinct, Flesher shoots his forearms up to block the kick and catch X’s foot! Caught off-guard, Xstasy isn’t expecting Flesher’s legsweep, which takes him to his back on the mat! Flesher releases the leg, and as X starts to get up, unloads a stiff kick to the face of the challenger! X rolls away, and Flesher stays standing as the crowd applauds him! “Difficult blow for Citizen Nightingale to deal with,” says Cyclone Comet. “The fans seems to be cheering each man, so hopefully both of these competitors will be able to feed off the energy of this Utah crowd.” “Energy in Utah? Where the hell would it come from? You can’t buy anything here! Cigarettes, beer, banana-flavored condoms – it’s all impossible to find.” As Xstasy starts to roll away, Flesher drops to one knee on the mat and grabs him by the wetsuit. He pulls the ICTV Champion back to the center and drives a stiff knee into the small of his back, causing X to arch painfully out. Flesher follows it up with another knee, then lifts his opponent up to his feet. Flesher grabs him in a front facelock and quickly arches backwards with a snap suplex, slamming him back-first to the mat. Quickly, Flesher rolls away. “And here we see the Superior Citizen having done his homework,” says Comet. “Rather than the brainbuster or stalling suplex he would usually go for early in the match, he switched to a snap suplex to avoid giving Xstasy the opportunity to Xecute the Xception.” “Or maybe Flesher’s just being lazy and doesn’t want to stall early on,” says Riley. “The world may never know.” Flesher rolls over to his stomach and gets to his knees as X does the same. Flesher gets up first, but X quickly executes a shoulder roll, knocking Flesher for a loop with a calf kick! Flesher staggers as X pops back up to his feet, but quickly regains his footing. X pivots on his left foot, throwing a high leg lariat which Flesher ducks to avoid. Before Xstasy finishes his rotation, Flesher unloads with a tackle that takes the left leg out from under him and sends him spilling to the mat! Flesher covers him up and throws a stiff palm strike that catches the ICTV Champion straight in the jaw! “Citizen Flesher hits a single-leg takedown on Xstasy, but the motion was reminiscent of the train wreck double leg takedowns he uses. His doubles are tackles, whereas his single legs usually include more finesse. Perhaps this is part of the strategy for the night.” “How can you form a strategy against Xstasy? He’s an incredible athlete and can think faster than most trial lawyers. You never know what he’s going to hit you with, especially in a match like a Table match. I swear, Comet, you’re going senile.” With Flesher on Xstasy, the crowd applauds as he lands another stiff palm strike. Flesher, grappling conservatively, slides down X’s body, locking his arm around the left leg he just attacked and gets to his knees. He stands up, starting to turn the Perfect Drug over into a half crab! X, however, has other ideas. He cocks his right leg back and slams it into Flesher’s chest, kicking the World Champion off! X quickly spins on his back, coming up to his feet! Flesher catches him off-guard with a dropkick to the left knee, though, and X spills back to the mat! Flesher gets up and backs up a few steps. X gets back to his feet, and Flesher throws another dropkick! This time, though, Xstasy spins on his right foot, swinging the leg out of the way and letting Flesher drop onto the mat! X continues spinning, using the momentum to crash onto Flesher with an elbow drop! The crowd applauds Xstasy’s acrobatic attack, but the Drug quickly assumes a defensive position to avoid getting caught in a mat-wrestling battle with Flesher. “This is what it comes down to,” says Riley. “The fact is that these guys are both good in one position above all else. Flesher’s better on the mat than X is right now, and X will take Flesher on his feet. The thing is that Xstasy’s style will allow him to strike while Flesher’s on the mat and bring him back to his feet, where he can keep kicking the shit out of him. It’s obvious – he’s better than Flesher can ever hope to be.” “You’re kidding me, Robert,” says Comet. “Between Flesher’s suplexes and tackles, you’re telling me that Flesher can never compete with Xstasy on his feet?” “Well, what have you seen so far? X is winning this one, hands down, and he’s going to walk out of here a double champion.” Xstasy pulls back to avoid getting caught in the guard, and inevitably in a grappling battle from there, with Tom Flesher. Nevertheless, Flesher grabs him by the head and pulls him down to keep him from escaping. “Remember,” says Cyclone Comet, “in a tables match like this, Flesher can stay on his back and wrestle as long as he wants. The lack of a pinning predicament truly opens the style of a tough grappler like Flesher.” Flesher pulls X’s head against his chest and clubs him on the back of the neck with a hard right forearm. He clamps down, keeping X’s head pressed against his chest, and quickly shoots his legs around Xstasy’s chest, locking him into the guard position! As the fans applaud his ingenuity, Flesher lets X’s head go. As X looks up, Flesher nails him in the face with a palm strike! The SmarkTron shows a close-up of the sucker blow, prompting cheers from the fans as Flesher starts to slide back. He grabs X’s left wrist and shuffles his scissors up the body, looking for a triangle choke! The Drug catches on, allowing Flesher to slide up the body but bracing his hand against the back of the World Champion’s thigh. He slides his hand toward the calf, then the ankle. As Flesher starts to get the triangle choke locked in, Xstasy reaches up and peels his ankles apart, breaking the scissors grip! Flesher tries to fight to keep the hold, but before he knows what’s happening, X scrambles to his feet and splits Flesher’s legs! He sits out, hitting a legdrop between Flesher’s legs and splitting him! The Superior One rolls away, in obvious pain, as the fans applaud X’s spectacular move! “Impressive move by the youngster from Washington!” says Bobby Riley. “Remember, Flesher may be three years older than Xstasy, but X was wrestling professionally LONG before Flesher was. He’s got the decided experience advantage, and frankly it’s ridiculous that he hasn’t been given more opportunities to win the World Title. He’s one of the best wrestlers in the world today.” Flesher rolls to his stomach, holding his groin and grimacing in pain. Xstasy, not giving him any chance to recover, sprints at him and jumps. He somersaults, landing on Flesher’s back with a picture-perfect rolling senton! Flesher cries out in pain as the Perfect Drug flattens him out, then quickly spins through into a seated position on the small of his back! Flesher tries to escape, but in no time X has him locked up into a camel clutch! Flesher sprawls out as Xstasy improvises, sitting far back with his hands under Flesher’s chin. “Not something we see from Xstasy very often,” says Riley. “He’s very well-rounded, though, and has probably been working at that for quite a while.” Flesher fights to escape the camel clutch, knowing that Xstasy isn’t well-known for his submission skills. He clamps down on X’s left leg, tightening his grip on it. X works to keep the camel clutch on, but Flesher slides his grip down to the knee and tightens around it, working on the weak axis of the joint. He twists his body, pulling the ICTV Champion down onto his hip! As X scrambles for balance, Flesher reaches across his body to control the ankle with his right arm. From there, he stands up, pulling the 211-pound challenger to the center of the ring to give him less chance to use the ropes for leverage in a counter. He twists the left leg to the side and then drops into it with a stiff elbowsmash! Xstasy grimaces in pain as Flesher wrenches the leg around his body, twisting it against the joint. He stands up again, and once again dives to the side, driving his elbow into the left knee of the challenger! Before Xstasy gets the chance to counter, Flesher stands up and keeps the leg. He straightens the leg out and unloads a stiff kick to the back of the thigh! X winces as Flesher stiffly kicks him again, then tightens his grip on the leg to go for a half crab once again. Just like last time, though, Xstasy kicks him in the chest and shoves him away! Flesher moves in again, but this time Xstasy spins around, sweeping his legs out from under him and buying some time. X quickly kips up, prompting a round of applause from the crowd! Flesher gets to his feet once again, and the crowd continues applauding! The World Champion quickly shoots in, diving at X’s left leg to go for a single-leg takedown. X swings the leg back, avoiding the attack, and as Flesher backs out, X continues the spin to nail Flesher in the back of the head with a heel kick! This gets an even bigger cheer from the fans as Flesher lays on the mat, stunned! “Beautiful move from the ICTV Champion!” gushes Bobby Riley. “He takes a chance that Flesher created for himself, attacking theta leg over and over again, and turns it to his own advantage! I’ll tell ya, there’s no one smarter in the ring than X.” “Oh, come on!” says Comet. “Xstasy is showing intelligence in the ring, that much is certain, but this one isn’t over yet!” Xstasy slides out of the ring, lifting the apron and drawing a table out to the cheers of the fans! He holds the table up, ready to set it up, but out of nowhere eats a baseball slide dropkick to the side of the head! X drops the table and Flesher, still in the ring, gets back to his feet, grabbing the middle rope. As Xstasy gets back up, Flesher swings out, holding on to the cable, and dropkicks him in the head once again! Flesher takes a few steps back, and this time when X gets up, Flesher nails another baseball slide! This time, instead of a dropkick, he slides through into a headscissors! The fans applaud, knowing what’s coming. Flesher tightens the grip and quickly executes a log roll, effortlessly rolling on the apron as he yanks X by the head and sends him in a cartwheel onto the table! X arches his back, holding the affected area as Flesher slides out of the ring. “Citizen Flesher takes advantage of a moment of inattentiveness by the challenger and parlays it into a way to control the match,” says Comet. “One must be thoroughly impressed.” “He kicked him in the face, Comet. Why don’t you stroke him up a little more?” “I think he’s had quite enough of that from commentators lately, don’t you?” Flesher gets to the outside and sees X starting to get up. He takes the opportunity to level him with a kick to the back of the head, then rolls him off the flat table. He sits Xstasy up facing away from the table and decides to wait a few moments to set the table up. Instead, he nails X in the spine with a stiff Doc Marten kick! Flesher unloads three more kicks, and finally dropkicks Xstasy in the back of the head, stunning him and coming to rest on the flat table. With X stunned on the floor mat, Flesher gets to his feet and picks the table up. To a resounding cheer from the fans, he unfolds the legs and sets the table up on the floor near the entrance! The still-stunned Xstasy lays on the floor, easy prey for Flesher to pick him up and lay him across the table. Flesher climbs up the stairs and, making sure he can safely make the jump, mentally measures the distance from the apron to the table. As the fans rise to their feet, he sprints down the apron and jumps off, diving to the table with a cannonball senton! X ROLLS AWAY!!!!!!! Flesher goes through the table, splintering the wood as Phoenix Nightingale rolls off the table and falls harmlessly to the floor! Flesher lays in the wreckage of the broken table, and Xstasy grabs one of the broken pieces. He waits patiently for Flesher to get to his knees, and when the World Champion starts to push himself up, X nails him over the head with the piece of wood! This draws a mixed reaction from the crowd, but still more cheers than boos. He rolls Flesher into the ring, then reaches under the ring. He pulls out a second table, lifts that one up and slides it in behind Flesher. He follows the Champion into the ring, and as the crowd applauds, stands the table up at an angle in the corner! Flesher starts to get up. Disoriented, he tries to shake off the blow to the head. Xstasy moves to the center, where he nails Flesher with a quick Upstart Slap to the jaw! The crowd issues a collective “Ooooooooooooh!” as Flesher stops in his tracks. X grabs Flesher by the back of the head, locking his hands for balance, and rolls backwards! Flesher falls forwards and Xstasy extends his legs, pushing Flesher powerfully over with a monkey flip! Flesher does a full forward roll, hitting the table back-first! He cries out as he hits the table, then slumps pathetically onto the canvas! With Flesher out, Xstasy picks up the table and sets it up near the corner, looking forward to finishing Flesher off. As he does, though, the World Champion shakes off the impact of the monkey flip and slides in behind him! He drops into an amateur stance and unloads with a sickening double-leg takedown from behind, slamming his shoulder into X’s back and sending X’s stomach into the ridge of the table! Still slightly stunned, Flesher is unable to capitalize on the injury by following up with the natural German suplex, but X is reeling nonetheless! “And Citizen Flesher hits a desperation tackle, sending the good Phoenix into the table! Flesher may be out of his element in this sort of match, but clearly he has no trouble finding ways to adapt!” Flesher shakes off his cobwebs as X stays doubled over, almost convulsing as he holds his stomach. “Robert, is he fishing through his…” “No! Absolutely not!” Flesher grabs X by the shoulder and spins him around… only to eat a fistful of chain! The crowd sees this and boos as Flesher staggers backwards, holding his jaw! Xstasy unrolls the chain, swinging it and using it to whip Flesher in the face! Flesher turns around, surprised and acting almost instinctively to avoid further assault. From there, X steps up behind him and wraps the chain around his neck! As the Perfect Drug chokes Flesher with the chain, the fans continue booing! “Xstasy should be ashamed of himself!” shouts Cyclone Comet. “He’s using that chain to gain an unfair advantage! I could forgive the table, but no! Not anymore!” “What are you talking about?” scoffs Bobby Riley. “That’s perfectly legal! No disqualifications in a table match. All you have to do to win is put your opponent through a table.” “Still, one expects an SWF superstar cheered by the fans to maintain a certain degree of decorum!” “Shut your piehole, Comet. Xstasy said at Ashes 2 Ashes that he was going to do whatever it takes to get the World Title and wear it to the next pay-per-view. What he’s doing is completely within the rules, and it’s taking him a few steps closer to the World Title! Why begrudge the man the belt he deserves?” Xstasy keeps the chain wrapped snugly around Flesher’s neck, but the World Champion finally gets his wits about him. He grabs hold of Xstasy’s tied-back dreads with each hand and drops to his knees, rocking the challenger with a jawbreaker! X loses his grip on the chain, dropping it to the mat, but Flesher keeps his hold on his hair. He pulls X over one shoulder with a snapmare, sending him to his BUTT in front of the Champion. Flesher steps back, slamming another flurry of kicks to Xstasy’s spine! The crowd reacts, cheering each stiff boot as X grimaces and convulses, holding his back. Finally, Flesher relents, ending the assault. Seeming to forget what happened last time, X relaxes… only to have Flesher nail him in the back of the head with a low Yakuza kick! X collapses to the mat, and Flesher starts a golf clap for himself. The fans react, cheering Flesher’s counter for Xstasy’s use of the chain. “Citizen Flesher works around Xstasy’s complete and utter abuse of ethics, and finishes with a Yakuza kick instead of a dropkick to stun the ICTV Champion!” “How the hell can you call that unethical? He’s just using the rules to his advantage,” says Riley, “and last I checked there was nothing wrong with that.” “Still, one has to admire the superior skill that allows the Superior Citizen to gain the advantage over an opponent using a weapon by exploiting only his natural gifts.” “Natural gifts? Comet, that chain is a gift that Xstasy gives himself! How is that any different?! Forcing everyone to rely on what God gives them would just be ridiculous!” Comet merely rolls his eyes. With X stunned, Flesher pulls the table a few feet toward the center of the ring. He pulls X over to the short edge of the table and puts him in a front facelock, seeming ready to suplex him away from the table. Flesher stops for a second before starting the suplex, though, and drives a knee into Xstasy’s stomach, then clubs him in the back of the head with an elbow! “Smart move by the Champion there,” notes Comet. “As I said before, Citizen Flesher is being very careful to avoid being caught in the Xception spinning neckbreaker.” Flesher lifts Xstasy into the air, holding him upside down and stalling for a few seconds as he adjusts his grip. As the blood rushes to Xstasy’s head, Flesher finally turns him around chest-to-chest and drops to his knees, sending X forward and onto his shoulders on the table! The table doesn’t break because... “Xstasy lands across the table, not at the weak spot in the center,” says Bobby Riley. “Flesher’s such a tool that he didn’t even realize the table wasn’t going to break.” “It seems, Robert, that Xstasy is now in perfect position for some sort of aerial move through the table,” says Cyclone Comet. “Perhaps that was Flesher’s intention.” “Pfft. He can barely work a zipper. How do you expect him to plan that far ahead?” Sure enough, Flesher slides to the corner and begins scaling the turnbuckles! X lays perfectly still as Flesher climbs to the top. The World Champion faces the ring and slowly raises his arms over his head, prompting a huge cheer from the crowd! “We haven’t seen this from Flesher in quite a while!” says Cyclone Comet, sounding excited. “His flying headbutt is absolutely lethal!” “Then why hasn’t he done it lately? Jesus, Comet, what would you do without me to point out your screwups?” Flesher swing his arms down, holding them out as he dives toward the table! As he dives toward it… SPLAT!!!!!!!! X AVOIDS HIM AGAIN, AND ONCE AGAIN FLESHER GOES THROUGH THE TABLE!!!!!!!!!!!! The crowd bursts into a “HOLY SHIT!” chant as Flesher lays on the ground in between the halves of the table, holding his head. Xstasy rolls away, jumping to his feet and grandstanding as Flesher lays on the mat. The crowd boos loudly, more as a reaction to Flesher’s miss than to X’s personality, but with a definite anti-X contingent. Xstasy ignores the boos and slides out of the ring, reaching under the ring to get a third table! He slides it into the ring and, without wasting a second, sets it up. Ht lifts Flesher to his feet and grabs him by the arm, sending him into the corner with an Irish whip! As Flesher hits the corner, it becomes evident that his forehead is bleeding. “He must have busted himself open going through the table,” says Riley. “What a schmuck. Can’t even adequately protect himself.” Xstasy follows Flesher in, dropping to the mat and somersaulting to hit Flesher with a koppo kick! Flesher collapses against the ropes, but Xstasy quickly gets back to his feet. He starts climbing the ropes, mounting Flesher and nailing him with a stiff right hand! He looks out to the crowd, fire in his eyes, and unzips his wetsuit! In spite of their reaction for him earlier, the fans can’t help but Get Xstatic along with the Washington native as he pulls the top of his wetsuit down! Flesher starts to move, but X nails him with another right hand! From there, the Perfect Drug jumps and grabs Flesher, sending him head-over-heels with a frankensteiner! The fans cheer as Flesher does a 360-degree flip, landing on his back! Xstasy pops up to his feet and grabs Flesher, pulling him over to the table! He slaps on a front facelock. “Xstasy’s getting ready to suplex Flesher through the table!” says Riley. “It’s not his usual style, but it’s simple, it’s effective and it’s going to win him the SWF World Championship!” X starts to lift Flesher up, but gets Flesher only a few inches off the mat before putting him down and grabbing his back! “It looks like all those kicks to the back have paid off for the Superior Citizen,” beams Comet. “Now it’s up to Flesher to capitalize!” Flesher shakes off the cobwebs, sending droplets of blood to the mat. As X holds his back, Flesher jumps up and nails him in the kneecap with a low dropkick, taking the leg out from under him! He gets back to his feet, his eyes showing determination through the blood on his skin. He takes X by the leg and drags him to the center, kicking him in the hamstring once again! X winces, and Flesher nails him with several more kicks to the leg and the knee before relenting. Xstasy starts to get to his feet, but Flesher grabs him in a tight front facelock, pulling him toward the table! As the fans begin to cheer, Flesher lifts X into the air and starts to stall! “You’re kidding me!” says Bobby Riley, in disbelief. “He’s going to put Xstasy through that table with a brainbuster?! Jesus Christ!” Before Comet can respond, though, X quickly shifts his weight, starting to hit the Xception! This prompts a pop from the crowd, but Flesher stops him in mid-air and pulls him over one shoulder! He falls forward, slamming X back-first to the mat with a powerslam! The crowd bursts into cheers! Flesher rolls off, shaking off the torque that was put on his neck before he stopped Xstasy’s motion. He reaches down, grabbing Xstasy around the waist from behind and lifts him to his feet. He starts to lift X off the mat for a German suplex, but the Perfect Drug pushes forward, trying to break Flesher’s grip. The fans cheer as the two wrestlers struggle, Flesher trying to pull him off the mat and X trying to grab one of the ropes. Finally, just as all seems lost, Xstasy backs up and braces his feet in between Flesher’s. He grabs Flesher’s hands and then drops into a wishbone, splitting the MUCH less flexible Flesher’s legs! Flesher screams and releases X, who rolls forward. With his back to Flesher, he spins around backwards and nails the champion with a leg lariat! Flesher collapses to the mat, and X arches backwards, nailing him with a standing moonsault! Flesher holds his stomach, almost forgetting about the searing pain in his groin muscles from being split. “Now come on, Comet, you’ve gotta admit. If this was anything but a tables match, that moonsault would have taken Flesher out!” “Perhaps,” concedes Comet, “but this IS a tables match, and one has to assume that each wrestler has formed his strategy around that. To say what would have happened if it weren’t a tables match is, with apologies to Citizen Duran, a whole lot of who shot John.” “Ha. You’re just saying that to protect your beloved Tom Flesher. If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s a biased commentator. Jesus, does that piss me off.” Xstasy sees Flesher laying on the mat holding his stomach, and lifts him to his feet. Flesher’s face is bloody and he looks dazed as Xstasy grabs him by the arm and whips him to the ropes. Flesher bounces off, and X throws him to the mat with a hard hip toss that nearly shakes the ring! Flesher rolls through, holding his back, but quickly spins over onto his stomach. In desperation, he shoots at Xstasy’s left leg, looking for a low single-leg takedown, but the Xstatic One avoids it deftly. Flesher knows enough to keep his head down to avoid the spinning heel kick X fed him earlier, but this time the challenger simply jumps up and drops a stiff right knee onto the back of Flesher’s neck! The crowd cringes, and Flesher simply flattens out. “This is it!” says Riley. “This is the beginning of the end for Tom Flesher’s title reign!” “Come on, Tom!” shouts Comet. “Stick it out, and if you go down, go down with honor!” Riley giggles. X lifts Flesher up and whips him to the corner. As Flesher’s face continues bleeding, with blood dripping down onto his singlet, X runs at him and kicks him in the chest, then the face with his patented Whipback kick! Flesher’s head snaps back, and as X moonsaults off of him, he staggers forward and flops to the mat. This draws both applause and concern from the crowd. Xstasy, however, is completely unconcerned. Showing his adrenaline, he doesn’t stop his capoeira rhythm as he drags Flesher to the center of the ring. He executes one quick roll and spin on his back, the fans applauding, and then sprints toward the ropes. As Flesher rolls to his back, Xstasy leaps over him and continues running. He jumps up, bouncing off the bottom rope and executing a perfect Lionsault! He lands hard on Flesher, but winces as his left knee hits the mat. Regardless, Flesher rolls on the mat, holding his stomach and in obvious pain. X stands up, pausing to shake the knee out. “It seems that Citizen Nightingale may have landed incorrectly after that Lionsault,” says Comet. “Perhaps, though, it was simply a bad idea, as any moonsault puts a great deal of stress on the knees during the landing.” “Ah, quit looking for ways to run Xstasy down. He’s about to take the title off Flesher – show some respect!” X lifts Flesher to his feet, guiding him over to the table that still stands in the corner. He picks Flesher up, wincing as the weight stresses his back, and bodyslams him onto the table. He walks around the table and climbs the ropes. He stops at each turnbuckle, shaking out the knee that Flesher had weakened and that he damaged even further off the Lionsault. Finally, he gets to the top rope and faces the crowd, which begins to cheer! “We’re about to see an Xclusion!” says Riley. “A somersault senton bomb facing the crowd? Incredible! And through a table… this kid’s my favorite athlete ever!” X stands on the top rope, still looking unsure about the left knee. After the slow climb, Tom Flesher rolls to the side of the table and slides off, hoping to avoid the Xclusion. With X perched on the top rope, however, he sees another opportunity! Acting quickly, Flesher clips X’s left knee out from under him, crotching him on the turnbuckle! X starts to fight, but Flesher quickly scales the ropes, cracking him with a palm strike to the back of the head to keep him quiet. With that, Flesher seats himself on the turnbuckle behind X and hooks his legs under the top rope, then locks his hands around Xstasy’s waist! He struggles, the determination to win showing through his crimson mask. “Could it be?” says Comet. “Could Flesher be contemplating such a devastating maneuver, all in the name of defending his SWF World Championship? Incredible!” “No way he’s going to be able to hit it,” says Riley. “X is too much of a competitor!” As the fans burst into cheers, Flesher arches backwards, throwing X over his head with a spider German suplex! He hangs upside down as he suplexes Xstasy onto the table… AND THROUGH IT!!!!!!! The table splinters as Flesher hits X with a spider German, and referee Eddy Long calls for the bell! DING DING DING!!!!!!!! “Your winner, and STILL SWF World Champion, ‘The Superior One’ TOM FLESHER!!!!!!!” Xstasy lays in the wreckage of the table as Flesher hangs upside down, his bloody face a mask of relief. He smiled slightly, exhausted but happy to have retained, and the fans applaud. “What an impressive throw!” says Cyclone Comet. “The spider-style German suplex wins the tables match for Tom Flesher, and the fans are loving it!” Flesher pulls himself up to a sitting position and turns around, sliding down to his feet on the canvas. Eddy Long raises his arm and hands him the SWF World Championship. “This is number five for Tom Flesher,” says Cyclone Comet. “He has officially tied the record he shares with Edwin MacPhisto for successful World Title defenses, with defenses against William Hearford, the Boston Strangler, two against Erek Taylor and now one against Xstasy!” “Pfft. Tied. A tie is like kissing your sister.” “Well,” says Comet, “we shall see if he can break that record later this month! Until then, I’m Cyclone Comet, and for Bobby Riley, thank you for tuning in! Our next show will be preempted by the replay of the Rugby World Cup finals, but we’ll be back! See you next week!” === SWF Lockdown, November 25, 2003. © White Apple Productions. All rights reserved. Smarks Wrestling Federation: “Raising workrate by typing faster.”

The cameras remain in the ring after the battle that was the Unholy Trinity versus Va'aiga and John Duran, but the battle is not over yet! Despite the match having come to a conclusion, the battle still rages strong! All four men are in the ring, and the advantage goes to team Evil as the Maori Badass and the Sinner combine to Terrence out of the action with an out-of-ring chokeslam! With the Anti-Heel Machine neutralised, they turn their attention to the battered High Priest of Horrorcore, who shows no fear whatsoever and starts launching those elbows! *CRACK!* into Duran's jaw! *CRACK!* into Va'aiga's jaw! *CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!* Comet: "Citizen Night fighting back with all his power against the villains, even though the match is over!" Riley: "He's been beaten down before, and watch, they're going to do it again!" True to Riley's words, the two monsterous evil bastards in the ring ignore the pain in their jaws and take Dace down with a quick and dirty double lariat! Va'aiga promptly stomps a mudhole in the downed High Priest of Horrorcore and yells something at Duran, who nods and slides out of the ring. The crowd promptly boos as the Sinner slides a table out from under the ring and sets it up, calling out to the Maori Badass that it's ready. Nearly crushed under the relentless stomping, Dace is dragged upright and across the ring as Va'aiga jams him into a standing headscissors and points at the table. Va'aiga: WHAT'S MY NAME!? "ASSSSSSSHOLE! ASSSSSSSHOLE! ASSSSSSSSHOLE!" Comet: "Someone needs to stop Citizen Va'aiga before he causes irrepairable harm!" Riley: "Like anyone can! No one stands up to the Badass, Comet! Admit it!" Standing on the outside, John Duran earns the crowd's boos by mocking them and pointing over his shoulder at the table. The crowd's boos promptly turn to cheers as Va'aiga doubles over to pick Dace up, but it's not this that makes them cheer. It's the resurgence of the Anti-Heel Machine, who stands in the ring behind the Maori Badass with his Equalizer clutched firmly between his hands. The noise of the crowd doesn't deter Va'aiga as he heaves Dace up onto his shoulders... *WHACK!* ...and screams something in Maori, dropping the Brummie Goth as he clutches at his spine! The crowd cheers like a maniac as the Maori Badass clutches at his spine, turning around to see what had hit him. Green eyes burning in a face lined with long white hair is the first thing that Va'aiga sees, as a pair of hands clamp around his throat. With a roar, Terrence "Janus" Bailey lifts the Maori Badass clean off the ground, and Duran turns around just in time to see Va'aiga get thrown down through the table by the Anti-Heel Machine! Comet: "Justice prevails! The heroic Terrence saves the day for Citizen Night and the fans!" Riley: "Don't just stand there, Duran! Take him out!" John Duran has other ideas, as with the monster of a man in the ring and the fallen Maori on the outside, he decides he wants no piece of the Anti-Heel Machine. The two stare at each other before Terrence turns to help Dace to his feet, as on the outside several officials check on Va'aiga. The Unholy Trinity members disappear up the ramp to cheers from the crowd, as the stubborn and furious Maori Badass is assisted to his feet and to the back. The crowd continues to cheer, and Comet taps his headpiece. Comet: "We're not sure, fans and citizens, but Citizen Va'aiga might've taken more damage than we thought from that nasty throw out of the ring." Riley: "He can't be put out of action! He can't!" Comet: "Oh, hush Robert. From what I'm being told, he's going to be out for a single show, no more and no less. And he rightly deserves it!" Riley: "Biased, Comet. That's what you are." The camera fades out on the bickering of the two announcers, to a commercial involving Jay Dawg and urinal cakes

SWF Lockdown comes back onto the air with a burst of noise and colour, as the cameras perform their standard dance around the arena to catch the millions of cheering fans through their lenses! From top to bottom, left to right, the E Center is packed with SWF fans! The usual plethora of signs are being waved about, from "Ejiro, You're MY Hero!" and "Matheson/Riley 4 Ever!", to "I'm A Smark!" and the guy right next to him with a "Smarks Suck" sign. The cameras pivot down towards the announce table as is their want, catching a sign that just happens to pimp the upcoming match - cutouts of the Unholy Trinity standing over a cutout of Va'aiga. And then we're treated to the grumbling face of "Ambigiously Gay" Bobby Riley and his partner, the ever excitable Cycloooooone Comet! Comet: "Welcome back to Lockdown, fans and citizens! We've just witnessed a match of incredible proportions from two recently returned superstars, Citizen Francis and Citizen Thugg!" Riley: "The only incredible proportions about that match was Thugg's waistline..." Comet: "Mock not the size of Citizen Thugg, Robert! But right now, we have something more immediate to attend to! A tag team match pitting the dark slime of villainy that is the Maori Badbutt and John Duran, against the powers of heroism that are Dace Night and Terrence Bailey!" Riley: "Can you be any more biased? Anyway, we know Va'aiga's just gonna steamroll them like he's steamrolled everyone else..." Comet: "Don't be so sure, Citizen Riley..." "WHAT'S MY NAME!?" The start of the Maori Badass's theme song - a modified version of Method Man's "Bring The Pain" - sends the crowd into boos. The shadow of the big man appears in the entranceway, clad in his silver-lined boxer's robe. The sound of the Haka Te Ra - the ancient war chant of New Zealand - echoes through the arena as red strobes flicker around the entrance ramp. Ka mate, Ka mate! Ka ora, Ka ora! Ka mate, Ka mate! Ka ora, Ka ora! Tenei te tangata puhuruhuru Nana i tiki mai whakawhiti te ra! A hupane, kaupane A hupane, kaupane whiti te ra! Slowly, the Maori Badass begins to stride towards the ring, throwing a few short phantom jabs on the way. The Smarktron shows several of his nasty moves - hitting a Va'aiga Stinger on Dace Night, pulverising CIA with chairshots, and Maori Dropping (with AUTHORITY!) all comers. In the ring, Funyon lifts his microphone as the New Zealand native approaches the ring, climbing into the squared circle slowly and methodically. Funyon: "The following contest is a TAG TEAM match, scheduled for one fall! Introducing first, hailing from Rotorua, Aotearoa! Standing at six-feet-eight and weighing three hundred and nine pounds...he is the MAORI BADASS....VAAAAAAAA'IGA!" The announcer promptly leaves the ring as Va'aiga tosses the boxer's robe from his shoulders and leans on the ropes, screaming the final "HI!" of the Haka out into the crowd. As "Bring The Pain" fades out, it's replaced by a new song, prompting a new wave of boos from the crowd. NO! NO! NOTORIOUS! The Duran Duran opening fades into the song of Spineshank's "Synthetic" and it heralds the arrival of John Duran! The big man stalks out from backstage, staring intensely around at the crowd and at the ring as Funyon makes the announcement from the outside. Funyon: "And his partner! Hailing from Champaign Illinois! He stands at six foot eight and weighs two hundred and sixty five pounds...the NOTORIOUS, JOHN DUUUUURAN!" On the way to the ring, the Sinner spots a young girl waving a sign that says "Notorious/Va'aiga Fear The Trinity!", and a malevolent grin spreads on his face. In all of two seconds, he rips the sign from the girl's grasp and tears it in two, throwing it on the ramp and grinding his heel on it. Duran smirks and continues on to the ring as the crowd begins raining insults down on him. "ASSHOLES! ASSHOLES! ASSHOLES!" Comet: "Listen to the fans booing Citizen Duran and Citizen Va'aiga, Robert!" Riley: "They wouldn't know talent if it bit them in the ass, Comet." Comet: "Oh please, Citizen Riley. It's uncouth for a sidekick to be so...crass." Riley: "I'm NOT your sidekick!" The Notorious Duran and the Maori Badass exchange stares in the ring, neither backing down from the others' intimidation as they stood at exactly the same out. The crowd's chanting fades out, but it fades out for a reason. The arena lights have dropped out again, and smoke billows from the entranceway. Red laser lights trace a mesh like pattern through the smoke... "LET FREEDOM RING WITH A SHOTGUN BLAAAAAST!" ...and the crowd explodes with cheers as pyrotechnics blast into the air! Stepping through the laser mesh come two figures - one Brummie Goth, and one trenchcoated Anti-Heel Machine! Side by side, they stand on the ramp before lifting their arms into the air and flashing the metal horns as red strobes light them up almost demonically. As the duo step down the ramp, Funyon announces once more with a sense of joy in his voice that was absent for his previous two announcements. Funyon: "And their OPPONENTS! They hail from Sydney Australia and Tampa Florida! At a combined weight of six hundred and twelve pounds, I give you Terrence "Janus" Bailey and Dace..." "FUCKING!" Funyon: "...Night! They are the UNHOOOOOOOLY TRINIIIIIIIIIITY!" Both Dace and Terrence break into a run towards the ring, and the two dastardly bad guys within decide it may be safer to temporarily abandon it. The Brummie Goth slides under the bottom rope and the Anti-Heel Machine takes a moment to throw his coat to the side before following suit. Rising to their feet in the ring, they lift their arms to the fans again, and referee Sexton Hardcastle motions for the other two to get into the ring as he explains the rules. Slowly, the Maori Badass and Notorious re-enter the ring, standing almost toe to toe with the Australian and the Brit already in there. Comet: "Look at these four men, Citizen Riley. None of them are showing any fear whatsoever." Riley: "Pfft. Dace will aggravate an old injury SOMEWHERE, you watch. And Terrence has become just a big pansy since he lost that killer instinct." Comet: "They're both fine wrestlers, Robert. And Va'aiga FEARS Janus...remember that sign?" Riley: "Lies, since Duran obviously tore it up..." After some discussion, the two larger men - Terrence and Va'aiga - move to their corners, not taking their eyes off each other for a second. Va'aiga shouts a Maori insult across the ring, and Terrence returns the favour with an Australian middle finger, before Hardcastle waves his hands to get them to stop as the Notorious Duran and the Brummie Goth circle each other. *DING DING DING* Charging into the tie up, the two men that faced off at Ashes to Ashes grapple for position as the match kicks into life. Slipping through Duran's guard, Dace throws his arms out of the way and slams an elbow smash across Duran's jaw, knocking him sideways as the crowd cheers. Grabbing Notorious by the back of the head, Night drives three quick knees into his ribs. Looping his arm around Duran's head, Dace snaps back and takes John over and into the mat with a sharp snap suplex to another wave of cheers. Rolling back to his feet, Dace hauls the Notorious John Duran back up and double him over with a quick boot to the mid section before slapping on a facelock and leaping back. Spiking Duran's head into the mat with a DDT, Horrorcore stands back up only to drop straight back down again with a knee to the back of Duran's head. Dragging Duran back to his feet, Dace forces him into a Standing Headscissors and locks his arms around Notorious' waist. Fighting out, John braces his hands on his own legs and grunt as he stands up, throwing Dace's weight back overhead with a back body drop. A away of boos rolls out from the fans as Duran smirks at them. Comet: "The Notorious Citizen Duran fights back from Citizen Night's opening salvo." Riley: "Just proving that John Duran is the better man. It was nothing but bad luck that caused him to lose at Ashes to Ashes. And both he and Va'aiga wrestled on the last how, while Dace and Terrence had the week off to rest. What a cheat!" Dace rolls back to his feet and lunges back towards Duran but a boot to the mid section cuts him off. Duran quickly drags his thumb across Night's eye as the crowd bursts out with a new wave of booing. Taking advantage, Duran hammers home a rain of clubbing right hands before clamping on a front facelock. Snapping to his side and rolling both of them over, Notorious takes Night down the mat with a swinging neckbreaker. Holding on and rolling to his feet, Duran grabs a handful of tights and takes Night overhead and back to the mat with a suplex. Scrambling back to his feet, Duran glares down at Dace, ignoring the jeering crowds. Hauling Horrorcore to his feet and planting a knee into his ribs, Duran whips Dace across the ring. Digging his heels into the mat and slamming on the breaks, Dace stops himself and with a sudden twist, fires Notorious across the ring into the ropes instead. Sweeping his arms out and pulling Duran from his feet as he charges, Dace holds him for a moment before slamming him into the mat with a Spinebuster as the cheering of the fans returns. Bounding into his corner, Dace tags in the giant Terrence as a new chorus of cheers leaps up as the Anti Heel Machine climbs over the ropes into the ring. Towering over the Notorious John Duran, Terrence Bailey grabs him but the shoulder as he raises, slamming a skull splitting headbutt into his face. Scooping Duran up, Terrence flicks him over head and dumps him to the mat from seven feet in the air before crushing one massive foot into his chest. Comet: "Dace plants Duran with a spinebuster and tags in Citizen Terrence. This could be bad for Duran. If Va'aiga doesn't want to fight Terrence, Duran won't have anyone to tag out to." Riley: "Please Comet, Va'aiga isn't scared in the slightest and you know it. Va'aiga is going to rip Janus apart, when he feels like it." Picking Duran up from the mat with one hand, Terrence measure him for a moment before drilling a huge lariat into his chest that drills him from his feet and back to the mat as the Anti Heel Machine drops to his knees and places his weight over Duran for the first cover of the match as Hardcastle dives in to count the fall.. ……ONE! ……TWO! NO! A roar of boos flairs up as Va'aiga dives from his corner and ploughs his fists into Terrence's back. Janus rolls to his feet and burns a hole though the Maori Badass with his eyes, clenching his right fist. The Maori Badass glares back but steps backwards into his corner and ducks under the ropes out onto the apron as a near deafening roar of jeers fills up the arena. Using the staredown to shake his head out, Notorious climbs back to his feet and dives on Janus. Clubbing his forearms into the giant's back, John spins him around and levels three sharp kicks to the gut just managing to double Terrence over. Locking on a double underhook, Duran tries to leap back but Terrence sandbags with his size advantage. Lashing out suddenly, Notorious boots the Anti Heel Machine in the leg, kicking his knee out from under him! And then uses the advantage to spike Terrence back into the mat with a double underhook DDT, before stepping back and measuring the giant. As Janus presses himself up on his arms, Duran charges in and drills a running forearm smash into the giant's head, sending him sprawling. Comet: "Va'aiga dives in to make the save for his partner. But he's too scared to face down Citizen Terrence in the middle of the ring!" Riley: "Please, he was saving his partner. He didn't have to get into a fight Comet. I don't see Dace saving Terrence's sorry ass right now!" Catching the staggering Anti Heel Machine, Duran shoots him off, sending him charging chest first into the turnbuckles of Va'aiga's corner. Va'aiga grabs the rope for support and almost catapults himself forwards, smashing his skull into Janus' with a huge headbutt that sends the giant staggering backwards into Duran's arms. The fans boo louder and louder at Va'aiga's attack on Terrence, as Notorious John slides his arms under Janus' shoulders into a Full Nelson. Struggling through the pain of the headbutt, Terrence slams a free elbow down into Duran's arm to break free of the hold. Swinging around into a rear waistlock, Terrence hoists Duran of his feet, twisting on his heel, Terrence launches the Notorious One down into the mat. Shaking his head, Terrence stumbles over towards the waiting Dace Night in the corner. Rolling over and clutching at his back, Duran crawls towards his corner. Leaning over the ropes as far as he can manage, Horrorcore reaches out for Terrence's hand to make the tag. The fans roar as Terrence leans forwards and tags hands with Dace as Duran dives forwards on the mat and tags hands with the Maori Badass. The two former friends and partners race towards each other and meet face to face in the middle of the ring. Pulling up short and reigning themselves in, Dace and Va'aiga stands face to face as the crowd roars on. Staring each other up and down slowly. Growls rumbling in their throats as two men come face to face in a match for the first time. A sneer on his face, the Maori Badass opens his mouth and yells. Va'aiga: "YOU FUCKING DUMBASS PUSSY BITCH!" *CRACK!* Dace drills his elbow into the Maori's head, snapping it around, but Va'aiga just turns back and stares at him, daring him to do it again. *CRACK!* Once again, Va'aiga takes the shot and stands there as Dace winds back and smashes home a third Elbow Smash. *CRACK!* As his head snaps back, Va'aiga lets out a roar and sends his left fist across Dace's jaw, almost spinning him around from the force. And a second time, then a third, knocking Horrorcore silly and ready for the final blow. Winding back and kissing his fist, Va'aiga sends it crashing forwards as fans erupt into a massive wall of ear splitting booing and jeering. Desperate throwing his weight forwards, Night barely ducks under the jaw shattering right cross and dives past Va'aiga. Spinning on his feet and bringing his elbow round again for a rolling elbow. But the Maori Badass just catches Dace's arm out of mid air, stopping him dead before hammering the right cross into his jaw and almost knocking him out cold. Another massive wave of boos and hate filled calls echo around the arena as Va'aiga leaves Dace Night hanging by his arm. Comet: "Dace Night and Va'aiga come face to face for the first time in a match since Va'aiga turned on Dace and Danny Williams." Riley: "And he's all the better for that. He just almost KOed Dace with one punch. This one could be over right now Comet!" The Maori Badass than proceeds in scooping Dace up over his shoulder, before slamming him hard into the mat with a high-angled scoop slam. Va'aiga: "BOO-YAH!" Almost spitting at Janus in his corner, Va'aiga drags Dace back to his feet and hammers a headbutt into his face, snapping his head back yet again. Letting him sag forwards and forcing him into a standing headscissors, the Maori Badass mocks Danny Williams as he wraps his arms around Dace's mid section and hauls him up into the air. Stalling for a moment, he snaps forwards, sending Dace crashing into the mat with a ring shacking Powerbomb. Dropping his weight across Dace's chest, staring directly across the ring at Terrence Bailey as Hardcastle slides in to count the fall. ……ONE! ……TWO! …NO! As Janus climbs into the ring and paces towards Va'aiga, the Maori Badass just sits back to his knees, breaking his cover on Dace and shouts at Terrence, insulting him as he drags Dace back to his feet. Hardcastle leaps into the giant's path and orders him back into his corner as Va'aiga hauls Dace into his corner. Taking hold of the back of Night's head, Va'aiga starts to slam in repeatedly into the top turnbuckle. Once, twice, three, four, five times. Tagging the Notorious John Duran in, Va'aiga steps out onto the apron, yelling in Dace's face at every moment. Duran slides behind the dazed and staggered Dace Night, locking on a full nelson and snapping backwards, taking Dace over with a full nelson suplex. Slamming the High Priest onto his head and shoulders, Duran holds the bridge for the referee to count. ……ONE! ……TWO! ……TWO AND A QUARTER! NO! Comet: "Terrence makes the save! Dace was getting brutalised there and Citizen Terrence comes in to make the save!" Riley: "Well, enjoy it while it lasts Comet. Because from the look Va'aiga and John Duran, they're going to take Dace Night apart piece by piece and enjoy every moment of it." Comet: "What about if Dace can tag in Citizen Terrence, Robert?" Once more, the Anti-Heel Machine breaks out of his corner and lumbers across the ring, slamming a huge boot into Notorious' chest to break up the cover and save his partner. Barely able to contain the look of anger in his eyes as he stares across at Va'aiga, Terrence slowly moves back to his corner of the ring, watching Duran and the Maori Badass at every step. Fingering his ribs for a moment, Duran rolls back to his feet as Dace groans and tries to find his bearings, pushing himself up onto one knee. Duran stares in the direction of the High Priest's seven foot partner, before turning back to the battered legal man.... *CRACK!* ...and taking an elbow to the jaw for his troubles! Dace fires a second elbow into the Notorious One's abdomen, doubling him over so the Brummie Goth can lock on his patented front facelock choke! Duran gurgles and tries to pry the Birmingham native's arm off, but in desperation, Dace locks the hold tighter, hoping to wear the life out of his opponent. Notorious shakes his head in the hold, unable to pry Horrorcore's arm loose, and so he does the next best thing by charging across the ring with all the energy in his legs. Dace holds on doggedly, trying to wear Duran down before he can complete whatever it is he's doing, but it is not to be as the Notorious One SPEARS Dace into one of the turnbuckles! This causes the High Priest to cry out in pain, releasing his hold, and Duran promptly applies his foot to the Brummie Goth's throat, choking him in the corner. "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Comet: "What underhanded tactics by Citizen Notorious! That's just not right!" Riley: "Live with it, Comet, because he's doing it and I don't think anyone can stop him." Comet: "Your words may come back and bite you, Robert." The referee hits Duran on the shoulder, telling him to stop the blatant choking. Duran doesn't even listen, and so the referee begins his five count. And being the notorious bastard that he is, John Duran milks every second of it before dropping his boot and stepping back. Wheezing and clutching his throat, the High Priest of Horrorcore stumbles on his feet, before a hand locks around his throat and lifts him into the air...and DRILLS him down with a painful looking chokeslam! Dragging his opponent out of the corner, Duran drops down to make another cover, but spots the seven foot Anti-Heel Machine making another entrance into the ring! The Notorious One yells at the ref, who moves to block Terrence's path. Clearly frustrated with the beating his partner is taking, the giant returns to the corner and glowers across the ring as Dace tries to drag himself towards his corner. The feeling of Duran's boots kicking him in the spine doesn't help matters, before the Notorious One drags the High Priest back to his feet. Standing Dace up like a punching dummy ready to be taken down, John Duran does just that - slamming a stiff punch into the Brummie Goth's chin before bodily lifting him off the mat and SLAMMING him back down into the canvas with a spinebuster! Rather than make the cover, Duran moves over towards Va'aiga, yelling something at the Maori Badass, who growls and nods his head. Duran turns around and measures the body of the High Priest of Horrorcore as he tries to get up. Comet: "It looks like Citizen Duran wants this match to be over, and to be over now, Robert! Look at the way he's staring at Citizen Night!" Riley: "Heehee! All it's going to take is Dace suffering some Blunt Force Trauma and that's it for the Unholy Trinity!" Comet: "I wouldn't be so sure...hey, where is Citizen Va'aiga going?" The Maori Badass has climbed off the apron and started walking around the ring, attracting the attention of the Anti-Heel Machine. Jumping off the apron, the seven footer glares across at Va'aiga, who smirks and makes a 'bring it' motion with his hand. Seeing the potential danger, Sexton Hardcastle slides out between the two giants to keep them from brawling, yelling at them to get back into their corners. In the ring, Duran drags the battered body of Dace Night up onto his shoulders in a Burning Hammer position. The crowd boos as the Notorious One smirks, swinging the High Priest off his shoulders... ...but Dace lands on his feet! The crowd bursts into cheers as Duran turns around, only to take two stiff elbows to the face! Surging with adrenaline after taking all that he's taken, the Brummie Goth slams a knee brutally into John Duran's ribcage! With the crowd behind him every step of the way, Dace hauls the Notorious One into the air, and with a scream borne from adrenaline and pain......SLAMS him down with a brutal high-angle powerbomb! Staggering on his feet after executing the move, the weary High Priest turns to his corner for a tag. Riley: "Ha ha! He can't tag out!" Comet: "So that's it! Citizen Va'aiga is distracting Citizen Terrence from being there for his partner!" Dace stares at his empty corner for a long moment, then spots the two giants glowering at each other on the outside with the referee. Growling, the Brummie Goth backs up across the ring, and using all the adrenaline he has left, he charges across the mat and dives between the ropes, launching himself at the Maori Badass! Va'aiga sees the movement and turns around, only to take VICIOUS elbow smash across the jaw! Comet: "ELBOW SUIIIIIICIIIIIIIIDA! Citizen Night attacks Citizen Va'aiga with a desperation move learned from his mentor, to get his partner's mind off the Maori Badbutt and back on the match!" Riley: "Idiot! He just attacked the non-legal man! That can't be right, Comet!" Comet: "Citizen Va'aiga was distracting his partner! Citizen Night did what he had to do!" Seeing his partner execute the desperation move, Terrence turns and quickly heads for his corner. The Maori Badass stumbles upright, clutching at his jaw and seeing Dace before him...and slamming a bone-splintering headbutt into the face of the dazed High Priest! The Brummie Goth collapses against the apron, and Va'aiga rolls him into the ring with a sneer on his face before stalking back to his own corner. With order - of a sort - restored, Sexton Hardcastle slides back into the ring. Dace drags himself up, sitting in the turnbuckle as in the middle of the ring, John Duran pushes himself dazedly to his feet. Slapping his hand on the turnbuckle, Terrence yells at Dace to get up and tag now he's in position. Each rhythmic blow to the turnbuckle causes the crowd to begin clapping, trying to galvanise the tortured body of the High Priest of Horrorcore into action. Duran stumbles away and slaps the hand of his angry partner for the tag, as Dace pushes himself upright and stumbles towards his own corner. Terrence leans forward, extending his arm for a tag...but the Brummie Goth cries out in pain and crumples to the mat as the Maori Badass nails him from behind with a running shoulder tackle! Standing tall, with Dace mere inches from salvation, Va'aiga smirks and leans forward to look the Anti-Heel Machine in the eyes. Va'aiga: "BOO-YAH!" His response is simply a cold green stare, and... ... ...a KNUCKLE BOMB TO THE JAW! Va'aiga stumbles backwards under the sheer impact of the blow, as the Anti-Heel Machine reaches out and impatiently waves his arm at Dace for the tag! Shaking his head after the dizzying punch, the Maori Badass sneers again and grabs the reviving High Priest by the ankles and drags him away from his corner. Dragging Dace upright, he whips the Brummie Goth hard into one of the turnbuckles. As Dace stumbles back out, the Maori nonchantly hoists him off his feet and flapjacks him into the canvas, driving the High Priest down onto his face. Standing back up, he kicks Dace hard in the ribs and yells an insult in Maori at him. The High Priest rolls onto his back, gasping for air, body contorting in pain. Grinning sadistically, Va'aiga takes several steps away, backing into his own corner. Duran reaches for a tag, but Va'aiga shakes his head and extends his arm - and Duran smirks too. Comet: "This could be bad, Robert. Citizen Va'aiga is signalling for his match-ending Lariat!" Riley: "He'll decapitate Dace, and be able to take Terrence on at a later date. It's genius!" Comet: "Did it ever cross your mind Citizen Va'aiga is scared of Citizen Terrence!" Riley: "Don't start that again!" Dace Night, in clear pain with all the punishment he's taken so far in this match, gamely pushes himself upright. Two knees, then one knee, then slowly he begins to rise for his feet, staring out at the crowd who are all chanting his name. He then begins to turn around, and the Maori Badass charges across the ring, warmed and and ready to hit the HERE IT COMES MOTHERFUCKERS YOUR HERO IS DEAD MEAT BECAUSE MEAT IS ALWAYS FUCKING DEAD LARRRRRIAAATOOOOOOOO... ...but the High Priest of Horrorcore ducks at the last second! Heart thumping, adrenaline surging through his veins, Dace dives across the ring as Va'aiga skids to a halt and turns to sight the Brummie Goth. But then the crowd bursts into a huge set of cheers, and Sexton Hardcastle raises his hands to signal the one thing the bad guys were hoping to avoid. Dace has tagged out. Riley: "I don't like the look of this." Comet: "Feel the fans, Robert! They're LOVING it!" The way Terrence Bailey steps over the top rope and glares at Va'aiga brings warmth to the hearts of the people - and perhaps a little fear into the heart of the Maori Badass. Stepping quickly back across the ring, Va'aiga slaps Duran's hand and climbs out of the ring, and the Notorious One blinks in surprise before climbing into the squared circle... ...and getting TORN IN HALF WITH A GOOOORRRRRREEEE! Collapsing to the canvas and holding his ribcage, Duran writhes in pain as Terrence leans over the ropes, pointing at the Maori Badass and demanding he get into the ring. Va'aiga shouts an insult back in Maori, and the Anti-Heel Machine throws the middle finger and yells "COWARD" at the Badass before turning his attention to John Duran! Stomping on the Notorious One's ribs, the giant whips Duran into the ropes before hoisting him into the air and slamming him down with a BRUTAL spinebuster! The instant his back is turned, the Maori Badass slides back into the ring...but the yelling of the crowd alerts the Anti-Heel Machine and he spins around... ...right into a firm Maori left hook! Another left hook! Another! Va'aiga winds up and kisses his right fist before swinging it forward... ...and Terrence catches it in his left hand, growling like a man possessed! Driving a huge knee into the Maori Badass's ribcage, the seven footer grabs Va'aiga's head in a front facelock and pulls him off the canvas. Almost floating in the air for a moment, the eVil Maori eats canvas as Terrence SLAMS him down on his face with his patented "Everdream" Implant DDT! The crowd cheers as the Anti-Heel Machine sits up, climbing to his feet and staring intently at the legal man of the match. Lifting his hand above his head and elicting a cheer from the crowd, Terrence waits...and waits...and...GRABS DURAN BY THE THROAT! Hoisting him into the air, the giant stalls for a second to show off his strength, before brutally SLAMMING the Notorious One back down with a chokeslam! Comet: "Citizen Bailey is ON FIRE, Robert! He's taken down both Citizen Va'aiga AND Citizen Duran, and it looks like he's not through yet!" Riley: "This can't be happening...Duran and Va'aiga had it in the bag!" Comet: "Justice ALWAYS prevails, Robert. You should know that by now." Terrence heaves Duran back to his feet as the referee attempts to move Va'aiga out of the ring. Distracted with the Maori Badass, Sexton Hardcastle doesn't see the low blow the Notorious One delivers to the Anti-Heel Machine! Smirking, Duran attempts - with some trouble - to hoist the stunned monster onto his shoulders for the Blunt Force Trauma. As he begins to lift the giant, he spots an object rapidly moving closer out of the corner of his eye. Unfortunately for him, said movement is the High Priest of Horrorcore, and said object is his extended leg! Dace Night, with almost all the power he has left, ERASES JOHN DURAN'S FACE WITH A YAKUZA KICK! The crowd goes wild as Duran crumples back to the mat, and Dace stumbles back to his corner. The Maori Bdass shoves Hardcastle out of the way and charges towards the unprotected High Priest... ...but a gloved hand grabs him by the shoulder, spins him around and hoists him into the air... ...and VA'AIGA EATS CANVAS AS TERRENCE DROPS HIM WITH THE ADF II OUT OF NOWHERE!! "TERRRRRENCE! TERRRRRRRENCE!" The crowd love every second of it, as the Maori Badass rolls out of the ring, clutching his head - even a Pacific skull would be damaged by such a sudden blow. Standing in the ring, the Anti-Heel Machine regards John Duran calmly...and then steps towards his corner, tagging in Dace once more! The High Priest cocks his head in surprise, and Terrence says something under his breath...and it's the Trinity's turn to smile as they advance on the fallen John Duran. Hooking the Notorious One's legs, Dace stares out across the crowd and yells as Terrence steps to the opposite side of the ring. Dace: "SOUL CRUSHER!" And the crowd responds with all their heart! "CRUSH HIS SOUL! CRUSH HIS SOUL! CRUSH HIS SOUL!" Comet: "Crush the soul of evil!" Riley: "It can't end this way! It can't! They had everything under control if it wasn't for that meddling Terrence!" Dace falls back to the mat, catapulting Duran into the air! And the crowd's voice rises to a fever pitch as Terrrence steamrolls across the canvas, taking the Notorious One out in mid-air with a Gore, completing the move known as the Soul Crusher! Duran makes a strangled cry of pain as his ribs are pulverised, and collapses limply to the mat. Wearily, Dace pulls himself across the canvas to make the pin attempt, and Va'aiga pulls himself up onto the apron, holding his head. He notices the pinfall and prepares to break it up, lifting the middle and top ropes apart. ONE! ...but there's a seven foot Australian in his way! Va'aiga seems to debate whether to go toe to toe with the angry looking Terrence, who continues to stare a hole through him. The referee slaps his hand down on the canvas again! TWO!! ...the Anti-Heel Machine and the Maori Badass simply stare at each other, neither giving an inch of ground. This of course makes Va'aiga not notice the referee's hand coming down for the third and final time... THRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEE!!! *DING DING DING!* "LET FREEDOM RING WITH A SHOTGUN BLAST!" Machine Head's "Davidian" roars across the arena as the referee make the three count! The crowd cheers, and Terrence helps the dazed Dace to his feet as Hardcastle holds their arms up in victory. John Duran is barely beginning to recover on the mat, and Va'aiga still stands on the apron and glowers at both the High Priest and the Anti-Heel Machine as Funyon makes the announcement with much glee in his voice! Funyon: "The winners of this match.....Terrence "Janus" Bailey and Dace... And the exhuberant crowd supplies the word as always! "FUCKING!" Funyon: "..Night...THE UNHOOOOOOLLLLLYYYYY TRINITTTTTTTTTTTYYYYY!" The crowd lets out another cheer for their heroes as the duo stand in the ring, and the camera cuts to the announce table to show Cyclone Comet is very pleased. Bobby Riley is, of course, despondent that the heel team lost. Comet: "Ladies and gentlemen, justice has been served tonight as it will be in the future! We'll be right back after this break to see Citizen Flesher defend his title against Citizen Xstasy!" Riley: "It should'nt have happened this way..." Comet: "Oh, stop moaning Robert..." The cameras linger on the ring, that still contains all four superstars...

“The following contest is scheduled for one fall!” can be heard coming from the voice of everyone’s favorite snack treat, as SWF Lockdown returns from commercial break. So do you wanna’ be a Franchise… And live large… A big house… five cars… “Making his way to ringside!” shouts Funyon, as the wispy sounds of a digital xylophone echo throughout the arena; a deep background beat, cleverly created by violins, and slightly overshadowing the original background rhythm. As the opening lyrics from Mak Francis’ Rock Superstar remix continue to blare over the PA system, the crowd bursts out of their seats, in recognition of the all too familiar music! The rent charge… Comin’ up in the world, don’t trust nobody… Gotta’ look over your shoulder constantly! The SmarkTron flares up with a blue and white photonegative image of Mak Francis, which is followed by ‘The Franchise’ in large green lettering, flashing on the screen in time with the beat, interspersed with signature spots and clips of Francis’ trademark smirking pose. Funyon takes a breath, “From Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, weighing in at TWO hundred and THIRTY-SIX pounds…‘The Franchise’… MAK FRANCISsssssss!” After taking a few steps out from behind the curtain, down the ramp, Mak tilts his shades down on the bridge of his nose, before smirking… looking left and then right, soaking up the crowds’ reaction… I remember the days, when I was a young kid grownin’ up… Lookin’ in the mirror dreamin’ about blowin’ up! *PWI-SHEW! PWI-SHEW! PWI-SHEW! PWI-SHEEEEEEW!!* He readjusts his shades with a smirk, before slowly strolling down to ringside and after walking up the ring steps, he cockily wipes his feet on the apron, giving a salute to the crowd, before entering through the middle ropes. Mak climbs the nearest turnbuckle and poses, as a wave of flashing lights go off. “Mak Francis returned last week, in what was a brutal fatal four-way with Michael Craven, Ejiro Fasaki and X, but ended up losing out to the upstart kid and missing a chance at World Champion ‘I’ve been kissing the commissioners’ ass’ Tom Flesher.” “Bitter much, Riley?” questions Comet as Bobby continues to talk. “Anyway, Thugg made a shocking return to in ring action by beating former World champ The Boston Strangler, and has re adopted the no-nonsense attitude he once had that’ll lead to much wrecking of shi—err, stuff.” “Yup and even after a great display in his return, you have to wonder, does Mak Francis have what it takes to topple the Thugg?” The Franchise steps down, and tosses off his shades, placing them in the possession of a ringside attendant, while he gets checked by tonight’s referee, Eddy Long, before maxing and relaxing, in the corner— —When suddenly, the lights in the arena black out, covering all crevices of the place with a cloud of complete and utter darkness. MUUUUUWHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA! An electric guitar blares over the speakers, starting the introduction to DMX’s “Who We Be”, as the entire arena explodes into a frenzy of cheers. The fans leap from their seats some booing but most cheering, despite the fact that no human form has been seen on the stage as of yet. They don't know... Who we be! They don't know... Who we be! What they don’t know is… BOOOOOOM! A huge explosion on the stage leaves a wall of fire across the stage in its wake, leaving only a small path in the center, as the fans lose their minds and the first verse of the song begins. In the path left by the wall of fire, a dark figure creeps forward, a black towel over his head, and as the figure makes his way down the path, Funyon makes his announcement. ”And his opponent, from Washington D.C., weighing in tonight at THREE hundred and EIGHT SIX pounds… The H-VILLLLLLLLLLE THUGGGGGGGGG!” Upon hearing the announcement, HVT begins his slow descent to the ring, removing the towel from his head on his way down the ramp. The fire on the stage ceases as HVT reaches the apron, where he holds onto the top rope and uses it to pull himself up to the apron. He then steps over the top rope and into the ring, slowly and deliberately trying to intimidate the Franchise. “Francis trying not to back down, but when going up against this massive monster, how can you not be slightly cautious, Robert?” “Easy,” starts Riley, “Thugg still has had a broken neck, and no matter what, that’s at least one weakness you can exploit that wasn’t there when he was first active. The man was unstoppable then, but now, even Francis has a chance, albeit a VERY small one.” “That was a surprisingly good point, until you started badmouthing Super-citizen Francis and we’ll see if it holds true today.” DING! DING! DING! Mak Francis and the H-Ville Thugg stand center ring, the angry black man beckoning the Franchise forward into a collar and elbow tie-up. Wary of the Thugg’s size and strength advantage, Mak cautiously slides forward into a standard grapple. HVT, obviously imposes his power advantage and tosses the returning hero back into the corner, from which he came, causing Francis to bounce off the canvas akin to a super ball, before ending up in the turnbuckles. “Citizen Thugg is proving that size does matter.” Bobby opens his mouth, but Cyclone quickly interrupts him with a wave of his hand. “Not a word out of you, you queer quince!” As Bobby grin slowly fades from not getting to speak his peace, HVT, standing large and in charge calls Mak forward again, but Francis doesn’t get up. In stead the Franchise looks to be thinking out his next plan of attack, while stalling. “Get up bitch!” shouts the angry Thugg, with some added hate in his voice, but the self proclaimed Franchise continues to take his time getting up, smirking as he moves forward yet again. Apparently with a new plan of attack this time he slides in on his knee and begins levering HVT’s leg, in an attempt at a takedown – but the angry black man will have none of that either and pounds one meaty forearm into the back of his opponent, stalling out that plan off attack. “Francis tries to take Thugg down to the mat where Mak holds a definite advantage, but he was wise to Mak and made him pay.” says Riley, as Thugg picks the self proclaimed Franchise up to his vertical base, after another forearm blow and tosses him away in an Irish whip. “Mak needs to get Thugg off his vertical base, and if he doesn’t then he can say goodbye to the return of a hero and hello to the hospital!” Francis dashes off and Thugg prepares for his return, but Mak catches a break – or safety line if you will, by hooking his arms in the top rope, killing what forward momentum he had. The returning Francis quickly bails out of the ring to take a powder after his two attempts at starting in control backfired. As Francis stalls, he starts a quick conversation with one of the fans about just how he’s going to beat HVT in the center of the ring, loudly mentioning such phrases as… “All I got to do is get that big ass punk down on that mat and its over.” The Thugg fumes on the inside of the ring as Mak continues to jaw-jack, now leaning against the barricade as if he’s having a casual conversation. “Wreck my shit… even if he’s just got a knee on the mat I’m callin’ the match right then and there…” HVT exits the ring post haste, with the referee at five and Mak takes off around the ring, diving back inside as the big man lumbers towards him. As the Thugg climbs back onto the apron and tries to step over the top rope, Mak attacks, landing a dropkick directly on the evil ones left knee. This causes HVT to stumble into the ring, which surprises Francis as he thought the big man would be down on the mat. So the Franchise does next best thing and attempts to hit and run striking Thugg with a— Smack! WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Knife-edge chop! HVT looks at Mak as if he’s lost his god fearin’ mind, causing Francis to swing away with another scintillating— Smack! WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Knife-edge chop! Thugg practically laughs the strike off and lassos Francis by the neck and head before tossing him into the nearest corner with a biel! Mak tries to shake off the cobwebs in the corner, but HVT is quickly on him with a back elbow to the side of his head. A second elbow stuns Mak more than enough for Thugg to whip him cross corner… “The H-Ville Thugg with an Irish whip to Mak Francis and you don’t want Thugg to catch you in one of those corners with a full head of’ steam, right Comet.” “Absolutely,” adds Comet, quickly, “And by Odin it looks like we’re about to get some silver dollar Franchises’!” yells Cyclone while the big angry black man rushes forward for a corner avalanche! “No!” counters Riley, as Francis has dodged and is now peppering HVT with multiple right hands as he attempts to stumble out of the corner – but Mak won’t let him, instead pushing him back into said turnbuckles and mounting them for ten corner punches! One…! Two…! Three…! Four…! Fiv—OHHHHHH! As Mak gets to the fifth punch the H-Ville Thugg counters, grabbing him by the throat with both hands, squeezing and lifting him of the mount… and then choke tossing him away like a rag doll! But the self proclaimed Franchise rolls through the throw and springs up to his feet, rushing back into his corner punch combo of three snap left, followed by a stiff right hand to the face! With Thugg slightly reeling Mak decides to attempt an Irish whip… …And he attempts to pull the big man out of the corner again… …WHAM…! …bad idea… “Great googley moogley, what a huge – HUGE – HUUUUUUUUGE, short arm clothesline!” “That’s not even a word Comet! At least say something that makes sense!” chimes Riley, as Mak lies on the canvas turned practically inside out by the DEATH AND DESTRUCTION CLOSE TO BUT NOT QUITE AS INTENSE THUGG LIFE LARIATOOOOOO! (TM Va’aiga) The angry black man pauses for a second and grabs Mak from his prone position and after a hard punch to the face, whips him into the far ropes, stepping out into the middle of the ring, before spinning the Franchise up, down, all around and back to the ground in a devastating tilt-a-whirl slam! Thugg, in a prime position to stay in control elects to go for a cover – but only after dropping a heavy elbow to the chest cavity of his opponent! ONE! TWO! No! Only a two count as the crowd marvels at Mak Francis executing a neck bridge, basically shrugging of four hundred pounds of weight! Thugg is taken completely off guard by this, but his never let up, attacking style is just that and he drops a second elbow onto the chest of Francis! ONE! TWO! No! The once quite crowd begins to get behind Francis, as he neck bridges once again, with a great deal less power this time. You can definitely tell it took some effort that time. Thugg, not allowing Francis to get the last word in this little battle of wills, leaps up into the air this time, squashing Mak into the mat with a body splash!! ONE! TWO! THR— No! Only a two count for HVT on the body splash. “The crowd is now solidly behind Mak Francis in this affair after the heart he showed by continuously neck bridging from under the nearly four hundred pound H-Ville Thugg, Robert! And I have to agree with them, because it was quite the feat of strength, rivaling Superman lifting a tank or Batman lifting… something really heavy for a normal guy…” “Are you high Comet?” “I’m high on life Robert, but say no to blow.” Thugg gets up, dragging Mak with him and lays into him with a few right hands, before Irish whipping the Franchise cross corner. “He just whipped Francis like he was a red head of step child on Christmas Eve!” notes Riley, as HVT charges and this time nothing stops him from collapsing on Mak’s chest with a vicious avalanche! “The H-Ville Thugg is not done folks… that I can guarantee you. Thugg yanks Francis out of the corner again, and charges in with a full head of steam…” …THAWP…! “It’s like a black hole just swallowed up Mak Francis, Robert! This, this EVIL H-VILLE Thugg must be stopped!” “Did you just say EVIL twice, Comet?” wonders Bobby, as Comet looks at him like he’s brain dead. “What, I’m sure you just called him an evil evil Thugg!” “No I said h-ville… there is a difference.” “What the hell are you talking about… you’re just saying EVIL?!” Comet continues to give him a blank stare. “I give up…” HVT grabs Mak and drags him out of the corner, and then deposits him in the center of the ring with a powerful side walk slam! Instead of going for the cover HVT brings Francis to his feet, talking a little trash about Mka’s cocky attitude when he was outside the ring and then he lifts him up overhead and military presses him for all of the crowd to marvel at! As the Thugg stalks towards the corner for his patented Front Press Drop onto the Turnbuckle pads, Francis slips down off HVT’s back and pushes the large man into buckles, winding him for a second before rolling him up in with a school boy! ONE! TWO! TH— No! HVT quickly kicks out of the school boy with a bad _expression and even badder intentions for the body of the Franchise and not in the way that Bobby Riley was thinking. Thugg is first to his feet after the roll up and scores a toe kick to the gut of his opponent, before placing him in a standing headscissors!! “Why in the name of Gaia, the spirit of earth would he attempt to do such a thing, Robert?” “I don’t know, maybe he’s one of those bad guys that like to loot and plunder?” The Franchise attempts to sandbag but HVT is way to powerful for that and he gets lifted up for a Powerbomb… but he punches away at the face of Thugg wildly to get out of the hold! After a successive barrage of right hands, Mak flips out of HVT’s grip and lands safely on the canvas… and then HE toe kicks the H-Ville Thugg!! With HVT hunched over Mak locks on a front facelock and hooks the leg… ”Great Wall of China, Robert! Mak Francis is attempting the Franchise Tag!” shouts Comet as Francis tries to lift the nearly four hundred pound Thugg up into the air—no! The attempt is countered as HVT breaks his leg free quickly and hoists the Franchise into his tried and true, extreme stalling suplex… … … … He’s still got him up there… … … … Yes, he’s still up there… … … … “With all the blood rushing to his head, what could Mak Francis be thinking?” “Hopefully about me…” mutters Bobby a little too loudly and he receives a slap to the back of his head, for his trouble. “Thugg has had Francis up there for nearly twen—no, counter! Francis wiggled out and now he’s behind the big angry black man… locking his arms—German Suplex! Can Mak Francis hit one German, let alone rolling Germans on the almost four hundred pound H-Ville Thugg?!” But the answer to that question is not forthcoming, yet anyway, as a still loopy Francis from being hung upside down for twenty seconds get walloped when HVT lands a single back elbow to the face of the Franchise and it sends him rocketing away and almost into the ropes!! Francis, not to be deterred, quickly scrambles up to his feet and latches onto Thugg’s back once again, trying to regain his bearings enough to drop the big man on his head—nope, not in this life time, as HVT scores two consecutive back elbows that mash Francis back to where he came!! But the corwd comes alive as Francis spring back up to his feet and latches on again like a pitbull!! “Look at superhero Francis latching onto the EVIL H-VILLE Thugg without any care for his well being! The quasi-villainous Thugg knocks him down and he gets right back up again…” “…you’re never gonna’ keep him down…” hums Riley and then he shoots a look at Comet. “Great now I’m never going to get that damn song out of my head!” “He must be fighting for the suplex because he knows it can end this match-up! I just hope that once he gets the chance he can hit the move and hold the bridge!” Thugg, tired of fighting off the attempts of the Francis pries his hands loose and still holding onto one of the arms, yanks him forward for a short arm clothesline—no, Mak ducks and slides behind HVT pulling him neck first down to the canvas with a neckbreaker!! ”Pulling neckbreaker turns the tide of this match and now Mak Francis is looking to build up some momentum Comet! He backs away, hitting the near ropes for a little extra momentum--OH MY! Normally the Truth Hurts, but this time the H-Ville Thugg was waiting for the running bulldog fist drop combo and powerslamed him deep into the mat!” Riley shrugs his shoulders. “I guess it doesn’t always have to be said, eh Comet?” “Shut up, Riley!” say Cyclone as HVT holds on for a count… ONE! TWO! THREE— No! HVT gets up to his feet and drags Francis with him again, snitching in a front facelock of his own, before hoisting him straight into the air. “Thugg is handling the two hundred and thirty something pound Francis like a lawn dart, Comet! I bet he eats more twinkies in a day than Mak’s bodyweight!” … … … …He’s still got him up there… … … … …Yes, he’s still up there… … … … …Yes, I did do this gag before… … … … …What’s your point… … … … …WHAAAAAAM…! “This time Thugg hits the stalling suplex! This has to be it for Mak Francis!” HVT floats over into a cover… well as gracefully as a near four hundred pound man can… ONE! TWO! THREE No! Francis barely gets his right shoulder up off the canvas, causing a wave of cheers from the audience, who want to see more action! Thugg (Hogan big boot into Float over DDT) ”Flying forearm nearly knocks down Mr. H-Ville himself, but he’s still standing his ground!” notes Comet with his pinky conspicuously close to the corner of his mouth. “Superhero Francis is up and running forward for another—FOR THE LOVE OF POWDERED MILK, what a Bear Hug slam by Thugg!” “And you know what comes next Comet—Last Stand~!” shill Riley as Thugg lifts Francis up into the air, parading him around the ring for all to see – but as has become custom the weary and punished self proclaimed Franchise uses his ring savvy to grab onto the top rope and slides down the back of HVT… locking his hands… but he can’t lauch the sandbagging HVT overhead… So he fights… With everything he has… Popping his hips… And hitting a German Suplex on the sandbagging H-Ville Thugg anyway, spiking him right on his neck!!!! “What sheer determination by super-citizen Francis… no superhero Francis after that Herculean effort!” “Please, he hit ONE German suplex Comet… it’s not like he has the weight of Trump towers on one shoulder and all the Hulkamaniacs on the other shoulder…” “OH NO!” shouts Comet! “Mak can’t hold the bridge!” And true to those words Francis’ bridge collapses as quickly as it was formed, but Mak doesn’t give up, instead opting to cover the big man for the pin fall! ONE! TWO! THR— No! Thugg kicks out with some power proving that he won’t be giving up either. Francis loops behind Thugg a little and with the big man a little too dazed to sandbag, he hoists him up overhead and down in a second German suplex!!!!! But sadly once again Mak crumbles under the weight of Thugg and cannot hold the bridge, releasing his waistlock and going for the cover… ONE! TWO! THRE— No! Thugg kicks out, but no where near as powerfully as before! He’s getting worn down and the neck drops are taking a toll. Francis, clearly near exhaustion, rises up again attempt to pull up the Thugg, who is off in la-la land somewhere and since Mak can’t bridge… … …THUMP…! … Why even try to! “WHATTA FILTHY GERMAN SUPLEX! THAT’S GOTTA BE IT!” ONE! TWO! THREE! NO! THUGG GETS A SHOULDER UP JUST BEFORE THREE! “What will power shown by the H-Ville Thugg. He has a surgically repaired neck and he’s still kicking out of these things from a man that can throw a suplex like Mak Francis can!” Francis stumbles towards the ref asking him if he’s sure Thugg kicked out, and meanwhile HVT gets up clearly holding his neck in pain. Francis rushes over and fires off a dropkick to the knee of the big man trying to chop him down like a tree… but he won’t fall. A second dropkick to the left knee of Thugg, attempting to bring the big man down to his size – but HVT will not submit and continues to stand tall! Mak lines him up for what he hopes is one last time and dives forward, with a third basement dropkick… that FINALLY brings the Thugg to a knee!! The dazed and confused HVT, from being dropped on his head three times, can only sit and wait as Francis rushes to the far ropes in back of him, bouncing off and getting a full head of steam… then bouncing off the near ropes, comning face to face with him… ”Francis hitting Multiple low dropkicks has finally toppled—YAKUZA KICK! YAKUZA KICK~! DOWN GOES THUGG! DOWN GOES THE H-VILLE THUGG!” “By Puffy Daddy’s Mohawk, Mak Francis may have just won this match!” And indeed HVT who was once on one knee is now flat on his back, staring up at the lights, while the self proclaimed Franchise grabs both his legs and leaps forward in a bridge, holding on in the hopes of ending the match with the Yakuza kick jackknife pin combination!! ONE! TWO! THREE! DING! DING! DING! “The winner of this match… THE FRANCHISE… MAAAK FRAAAANCISsssssssss!” shouts Funyon, as Francis releases the bridge and rolls off of Thugg, to a loud pop as he gets his hand raised by Eddy Long. “Superhero Francis gets the win with a Yakuza kick and hopefully this is a sign of things to come for the returning hero!” finishes Comet, as the crowd shows there support for the returning hero, on a quest to prove something. Does it involve the World Title… only time will tell, as SWF Lockdown goes to commercial break!

"Our next contest is going to be a real barn burner between two people with a rather interesting history,” calls out The Cyclone Comet as we return to the E Center in Utah. “We are going to see two of our SJL announce staff finally come to blows here in the middle of the ring after months of verbal warfare back and forth. Not only that, but a shot at the SWF ICTV Title is also on the line. And NOT ONLY that, but this will be a match where there will be no disqualification.” “Yes indeed,” adds Bobby Riley. “Annie Onita and Ejiro Fasaki are ready and waiting back stage to tear into each other in another stipulation set up by Mark Stevens to screw with the very vocal Ejiro Fasaki.” “What?” “Well, it seems to me and a bunch of the guys in the back that Ejiro is being picked on and put into stipulations that only benefit his opponents due to him being right on the tail of Stevens’ favorite son Tom Flesher.” “That is patently ridiculous! Mark Stevens is the most honorable man you have ever met…” “Then why is this a No Disqualification match? Why is Ejiro stuck in this match against the Hardcore Queen?” Leaving that question hanging in the air for a moment, Cyclone allows the booming voice of Funyon to cut through the silence. “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN… This next contest is scheduled for no disqualification and is for the number one contender’s spot for the Smarks Wrestling Federation Intercontinental Television Championship. Introducing first…” JUSTICE! RULE! POPPOPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPOP! With the music of REM running through the arena, one half of the World Tag Team Champions explode out through the curtains with an even bigger scowl on his face than normal. With nary even his trademark arrogant smirk, Fasaki stalks his way down the aisle and into the ring. Leaving his jersey around his body for once, Ejiro brushes by Funyon and gives the announcer a little shove backward as he makes his way up to the middle rope and lifts a hand up to the crowd. Leaping off the ropes and into the center of the ring, Fasaki reaches into his tights in full vision of the referee and pulls loose his trademark length of chain and immediately wraps it around his fist. “It’s no disqualification,” calls out Bobby Riley before anyone can even complain, “Fasaki can literally have a set of pliers in his hands and it won’t make a bit of difference in this contest. Besides you know that Annie will be carrying in that Singapore cane of hers.” Recovering from the shove with an air of annoyance, Funyon does his duty regardless. “Introducing first… He hails from Sarasota, Florida and weighs in tonight at 210 pounds. He is one half of The World Tag Team Champions Justice and Rule. This is Ejiro Fasaki…” “Well that was uninspired…” “AND HIS OPPONENT!” The slow tunes of ‘Risky Gamble’ begins to play low into the arena as the Mormons in the crowd quietly dream about adding another pair of wives to their stable. Stepping out across the SmarkTron saunters the sexy the side ways glance of Annie Onita. Pointing out to the crowd, Annie pulls the trigger and an explosion into the sky! BOOOOOOOOOOOM! With a blue explosion hitting the sky, Annie comes walking through the curtain not only with her trademark cigar but her trusty Singapore cane draped over her shoulder. With her twin sister following behind closely, Annie looks into the ring and sees Fasaki already warming up his chain-enhanced fist. Stopping in her tracks, Annie looks back at Allison and gives her a little head nod to indicate that it might be best for the team to have her out of the picture. Considering that there will be nothing in this match to keep Fasaki away from the less combat ready sister, Annie obviously prefers to have her out of the way rather than worry about Allison all match long getting in the crossfire. After all, Annie already has all the support she needs in her hand right now. Funyon calls into his microphone, “Introducing next… She weighs in at 175 pounds and hails from Tokyo, Japan. She is ANNIEEEEEEEEEEE “ICHIBANNNNNNN” ONITAAAAAAAAAAAA!” Standing down on the floor, Annie holds her cane up on high much to the delight of the crowd as Fasaki continues to pace inside the ring like a caged animal with a chain wrapped around its paw. They are waiting now only for the legal nature of their contest to begin and for the carnage to finally be let loosed on all of Utah. DING! DING! Sliding into the ring at the sound of the bell, Annie comes into the ring with the cane in hand only to immediately duck underneath the path of the fist full of metal coming right at his face. Immediately turning, Annie sets up and takes a mighty swing with the wooden cane and… KRACK! Cutting Ejiro right between the eyes, Annie knocks her opponent right onto his back after a viscous blow with the cane! With his loosely held chain already flying free of his grasp, Fasaki’s eyes cross at the force of the impact. And immediately, ‘Ichiban’ retrieves the metal length from the mat and shows it off to the already maniacal fans that would love the force of karma to strike Ejiro Fasaki down yet again. But rather than use this unfamiliar weapon, Onita would rather toss the chain out of the ring and into the crowd where Fasaki can no longer use it to his advantage. “That’s not fair,” whines Bobby Riley, “That wench just took away Ejiro’s one means of defense and chucked it!” “Don’t call her a wench, Bobby,” admonishes The Cyclone Comet. “Haven’t you ever heard of chivalry?” “Chivalry is dead and I’m totally happy about that fact. I got no use for dames.” “Believe me Riley, we all know that.” Turning back to a rising Fasaki, Annie once again lowers the boom with another shot with the cane across the forehead that knocks Ejiro back down to the canvas. Scrambling for a way out of the ring, Fasaki locks his arms around the bottom ropes in the hope that the referee will back Annie away. But with the rules, the way they are, Annie doesn’t have to worry about Nick Soapdish in the slightest. Taking her Singapore cane once again, Annie slams it down across Ejiro’s back with a thunderous boom that causes each and every fan actually have a tiny bit of sympathy for the battered Rule. But that sympathy gives way immediately as Annie pulls Ejiro up so he is leaning on the top rope. Then pulling up on his Jersey, Annie exposes his bare back as the crowd rises knowing just what she might have in store for the Tag Team Champion. “ICHI-BAN! ICHI-BAN! ICHI-BAN!” Looking at her SJL broadcast colleague, Annie warms her way up and comes roaring ahead… CRACK! And smashes the cane against Fasaki’s back and drives him through the middle ropes to the arena floor! Holding court in the ring, Annie lifts her bent cane above her head to the bubbly joy of the Utah crowd. But that joy is not going to help Onita win this thing and she makes her way out of the ring where she can legally continue the bombardment without having to be worried about a count out. But even as she makes her way out of the ring, Fasaki wanders to his feet and leans against a ring post in order to try and shake loose the cobwebs. But he simply doesn’t have any time to recover before Annie once again brings her cane to bear… SMASH! But Ejiro ducks out of the way just in time for Annie’s swing to go wide and crack the cane in half against the ring post! Dropping the shattered remains almost in shock, Annie nonetheless continues her stalking attack on a scrambling Fasaki with a fist across the forehead. Grabbing Ejiro around the jersey and tights once again, Onita slings Ejiro back inside the confines of the squared circle. Sliding into the ring after the cowering Tag Team Champion, Annie once again batters Ejiro with a shot across the mouth before sending Fasaki into the ropes. Ducking her head, Annie looks for a backdrop toss only to have Ejiro put on the breaks and strike his first move of the match with a kick right to the chest that sends ‘Ichiban’ strait back to the canvas. Riley rants into his headset, “See what happens when this match turns to wrestling? Ejiro Fasaki simply owns Annie if he actually has some rules to exploit. But with all this blatant weapon use, the former Hardcore Champion is simply going to be able to glom Fasaki until he can’t fight anymore.” Shaking out his head and checking his back for welts, Ejiro takes a moment to find himself a chance to recover from the cane assisted beating that he has taken in the first few moments of the match. Slowly moving in on a rising Onita, Fasaki shoots a boot into her ribcage and sends her rolling away from her opponent and across the ring. Then grabbing Annie by the hair, Fasaki pulls her forwards and pushes her throat down across the middle rope. Strangling Onita against the strand with the full weight of his body behind it, Ejiro tries to take all of her wind away since the referee cannot do anything to warn against the choke. Finally stepping off his prey, Ejiro looks across the ring for a moment before getting a full head of steam and running across the ropes. Coming back to his target, Ejiro leaps into the air and tries to crush Annie against the ropes only to have the wily wrestler pull her body out of danger and allow Ejiro to crotch himself on the middle ropes! “Looks like its official!” laughs The Cyclone Comet. “Annie has the biggest balls in the match for sure now!” Bobby ponders, “That’s a weird thing to say. True, but extremely weird.” Flopping away from the ropes, Ejiro scrambles out to the middle of the ring with his hands firmly clutching ‘Little Jir’ to make sure that everything is still where he left it. Hopping up and down on his toes, Fasaki waddles about the ring like a really tall penguin as Annie rises up to her feet with her eyes on the prize. Slapping the top of her leg, Annie draws the attention of the crowd to her leg, which she is only moments away from placing right in Fasaki’s mouth with one big… POP! Dropping Fasaki down to the canvas once again, Onita is right behind him on the way to the canvas. Reaching for a leg, Annie applies the first cover of the night as Soapdish slides into position for… ONNNNNNNNNNNNNNE! TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Forcing a shoulder off the canvas, Fasaki manages to stay alive in this one fall, no disqualification contest. But Annie is not about to just let the World Tag Team Champion rest up as she immediately mounts Ejiro across the chest and grabs Fasaki by the hair. Looking out towards the crowd for just a moment, Annie starts to pound away with perfectly legal closed fists to the top of the head as the Utah crowd counts away! ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FIVE! SIX! SEVEN! EIGHT! NINE! TEN! Delivering so many blows in a short amount of time, Annie rises off Ejiro with a battle cry that the Utah faithful are happy to return in kind. But out from underneath her weight, Fasaki is free to once again attempt to scramble out of the ring and the safety of the floor. But once again, Annie Onita is there to prevent the escape and latch onto Fasaki by a leg. Holding Fasaki there for a moment, Annie starts to pull back and drag The World Tag Team Champion back into the ring. But as Annie looks to gain purchase on his head, she makes the realization that Ejiro did not coming into the ring alone. BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM! “SWEET ZOMBIE JESUS!” shouts out The Cyclone Comet as Annie goes tumbling backward to the canvas. “Ejiro just hit Annie in the face with the remnants of her own Singapore cane!” “He must have grabbed it as he was hanging out of the ring just now,” adds Bobby Riley. “And boy did he use it like a club across her face! I tell you this Comet, she might actually be uglier than before.” “Will you stop!” Holding the remnants of the cane in hand, Ejiro looks at Annie for a moment before deciding just what he ought to do in this situation. Having already taken quite a beating, Fasaki decides that this might be the perfect time to slow things down a bit and take Onita out of her offensive attack. And with that decision made, Fasaki dives across her stunned form and immediately puts a hand around her neck and begins to choke away just as he did during his brief advantage earlier. Continuing to cut into Annie’s available air supply, Ejiro works to take away his opponent’s wind long enough to effect a victory here in Utah. And to make that fact ever the more clear, Ejiro releases the choke and hops up into the air before crushing down on Onita’s throat with a savage knee! Leaving his shin across her neck, Ejiro grabs a hold of the top rope and uses it to push his entire body weight down on top of Annie as the referee continues to watch on helplessly at the sight of what would normally be grounds for a disqualification. “Annie won’t get any help from the referee here,” laments The Cyclone Comet. “With these stipulations, Ejiro can basically choke Annie all the way out and get away with it.” “Well it’s a heck of a Plan B,” answers Bobby. “After Annie tossed his chain out of his grasp, Ejiro had to scramble to come up with something that would help him out against this violent femme.” Finally releasing the choke, Ejiro wanders about the ring for a moment while shaking his head loose a bit to continue to recover from the Singapore cane shots to his face. And with that, Fasaki hatches a plan. Well, maybe not so much a plan as picking up the shattered weapon and preparing to use it once again on the downed Hardcore Queen. Stepping on one half of the weapon, Ejiro separates the hanging bits in order to use the remainder more efficiently. Twirling the club that remains in his grip, Ejiro stalks the suited Ichiban and awaits her rise up to her feet. Holding onto her throat, Annie coughs hard in order to get some air back in her lungs as she looks about for her opponent. Sadly, she finds him. BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM! Crushing Annie once more with the weapon, Ejiro sends her flying down to the canvas like a cannon. Spread eagle on the canvas from the blow, ‘Annie Eclectic’ finds that she just is not all that electric as Fasaki smiles broadly to the crowd before saluting each and every one of them with the rest of the cane. “FU FASAKI! FU FASAKI! FU FASAKI! FU FASAKI! FU FASAKI!” they chant. Miming that these hurtful words are making him cry Fasaki wipes the tears away for a moment before tossing the last remaining pieces of Annie’s cane out of the ring where neither person will be able to reach it. But with that weapon no longer in play, The World Tag Team Champion moves out of the ring and over to where the timekeeper and Funyon are seated. Grabbing Funyon by the hair, Ejiro heaves the ring announcer across the arena floor in order to take possession of the steel chair that Funyon was seated on. Folding up the chair and holding it to one side, Fasaki pats the side of the weapon in order to let the crowd know just what he has in store for the still stunned ‘Annie Eclectic’. Placing the chair on the apron flat, Ejiro takes his time to walk into the ring via the steps as Onita only now begins to stir. Turning his back on the action, Fasaki tosses out another salute to the populace just before he pulls the chair off the canvas and holds it high in the air. Readying for a charge, Rule looks on carefully as Ichiban forces her body to continue to move. Wobbly, she rises up to her feet as Fasaki smiles brightly at the premise of caving in her skull. Finally up she comes and forward he comes… WHIFFFFFFFFFF! CLANG! “Annie ducked out of the way!” reports The Cyclone Comet. “And as that villainous monster turned, she unleashed the beautiful drop kiss of JUSTICE!” “And that dropkick drove the chair right into Ejiro’s face and he is out of it!” Slowly dragging herself up to her knees, Annie scrambles over and makes a cover as Soapdish slides into position for… ONNNNNNNNNNNNNE! TWOOOOOOOOOOOOO! THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! EJIRO KICKS AWAY! Popping loose from underneath Annie’s lax lateral press, Ejiro manages to stay alive as Soapdish waves two fingers in the air. Grabbing onto her neck as she rises up, Annie looks out to the crowd for a moment before pointing right at the chair with all the emotion of a lady who has heard one too many really bad jokes from her SJL broadcast colleague. Pulling the chair off the canvas, Annie slams the edge against the canvas as the crowd buzzes at the prospect of seeing Fasaki’s brains splattered all over the arena. Slowly, Fasaki grabs the middle rope from the canvas and manages to pull his body up vertical. Staggered, Ejiro turns towards the charging Ichiban with the chair in hand! WHOOOOOOOOSH! But Ejiro ducks out of the way and sends a dropkick right at Annie’s face! CLANG! But Annie SWATS his ass out the air with the folding chair! Crashing against Ejiro’s knees the chair is shocked loose from Annie’s grip as The World Tag Team champion flops to the mat like a marlin that just got landed off the Mexican Gulf Coast. Shrugging at her own good fortune, Annie takes the chair and sets it up where she wants it as she takes the wounded Fasaki and drives a kick into the back of his legs. Once again staggered by the blow, Ejiro can provide no defense as Annie sends him across the ring with an Irish whip. Picking up the chair once again, Annie places the weapon into the center of the ring where she can use it to do the most good for her cause. Then running to the corner opposite of her foe, Annie gets a running start and uses the chair to springboard up and… KRACK! Annie goes for a leaping shining wizard! But Ejiro dives out of the way! Cracking her own knee against the top turnbuckle, Annie falls to the canvas clutching her limb in almost insurmountable pain. Immediately trying to get her way up and test out the knee, Annie places only the littlest amount of weight on the leg before falling down to the canvas! Referee Nick Soapdish immediately checks in on the Hardcore Queen to see if she will be able to continue as Ejiro once more pulls his body up by the ropes. Slowly coming back to his senses after all of the shots to the head that he’s taken this evening, Ejiro wipes a hand across his forehead to see if Annie had managed to split him open with the chair-assisted dropkick to the face. Finding nothing there, Ejiro still has to drop down to a knee for a moment to collect himself as Annie pushes the referee away to indicate that she’s not giving up. “She may have blown out her knee though,” ponders Bobby Riley. “She could be risking a serious injury if she doesn’t give up right her and now.” “Odin knows that Fasaki will not cut her any kind of break,” adds The Comet. “We all know just what will happen if a wrestler shows an injury in a match with Ejiro. He will attack that injured point over and over again until it is totally useless.” But with Annie pulling herself up by the ropes, Ejiro is still down on a knee trying to get his head back in order. Finally rising up, Fasaki moseys over to his opponent only to be met head on with a solid right hand across the top of the head that sends him spiraling back down to the canvas. Up Ejiro comes again and again Annie knocks him down with a hard right hand while holding herself up by the ropes. Slowly hobbling out and after Ejiro, Annie grabs her foe by the head and looks to bury him with the DDT. But as soon as Ejiro feels the hook around his head, he pushes forward and crushes Annie into a corner. And with the air driven out of her for a moment, Ejiro immediately takes the opportunity to kick out and drive a boot right into the wounded kneecap. Immediately flopping to the canvas, Annie clutches at her knee as the crowd begins to worry about their favorite in this contest. Leaning against the ropes, Ejiro holds onto his head again as he watches Annie once again try and battle her way up to her wounded feet. But with a jackal of a man waiting for her, Annie can only find her feet for a moment before Fasaki rushes out of the corner and kicks Annie from behind with a kick to the calf. Flopping back hard over her body, Annie lands on the back of her head for a moment before going all the way over and landing on her chest. “We knew this would happen. We knew that Ejiro was going to go after that limb as soon as he noticed that it was hurt,” rails The Comet. “But Annie had to know that as well, and she has look for an opening here. She has to wait for Ejiro to make a clumsy attack and counter from there.” “Clumsy attack? Please,” chuckles Bobby Riley. “Ejiro Fasaki does not make Sloppy Joe’s much less sloppy attacks. Annie is better off waiting for a meteor to hit the earth.” Keeping on the attack Ejiro immediately grabs a hold of the injured leg and pulls her over onto her back. Then placing the limb across the middle rope, Ejiro leaps as high as he can using the spring of the bottom rope and comes down with all of his weight across the knee! Gritting her teeth through the pain, Annie uses her upper body strength to pull herself away from the ropes so Fasaki will be unable to repeat the spot. Pulling herself towards the chair for a means to counterattack, Annie seeks to crush Fasaki under the steel once again only to have Fasaki rush forward and kick the chair out of her reach. “Oh no Ann,” mocks Riley, “you are not going to be able to hardcore your way out of this one. Fasaki has turned this into a strait up match and in that environment, Onita has no chance.” “I think you’re underestimating Ichiban,” replies Comet. “She is a very accomplished wrestler in that ring. Even if this wasn’t a no disqualification match, she would be able to take anyone in this sport to the limit and beyond.” But in this situation, Ejiro is taking the Hardcore Queen to the limit himself as he pulls the wounded leg away from her body for just a moment before dropping down with yet another knee drop that goes bone to bone with Annie. Shouting out in alarm at the pain, Annie closes her eyes in order to concentrate on shutting out the pain while at the same time, Fasaki concentrates on making that pain grow ever the more as he pulls her healthy leg off the canvas. Spinning about the knee with a spinning toehold, Ejiro grabs the wounded limb off the canvas before falling down to the canvas once again with a figure-four leg lock! And immediately the pain in Onita’s knee increases twofold as Ejiro slams his body backward against the canvas in the hope of making Annie tap out to the pain. Immediately pushing his own body flat against the canvas, Ejiro is careful not to give Annie a target with his head. Knowing that punching her way free might be her only means to escape with the rope break not applying in this match, Ejiro stays away from Annie’s flailing arms as she struggles to find a way loose from the hold. “What a tactician,” glows Riley. “Ejiro knows that Annie won’t be able to turn the hold if he stays low to the mat. And while the pressure of the hold is lessened by not propping his upper body up, it makes it harder for Annie to turn the hold over. She’s stuck! She’s finished! She’s…” “ICHI-BAN! ICHI-BAN! ICHI-BAN!” “But the crowd is rallying behind her!” “So what! They can’t get her out of this one!” Feeling the love of the Utah crowd, Annie sits up high despite the pain and forces her body out as far as she can in order to reach the ropes. Looking one way and then the other, Ejiro concentrates on keeping the pressure on as getting to the ropes will mean nothing in this environment. But inch by freaking inch, Annie stretches and pulls until she has her hands around the bottom rope. Shrugging at the achievement, Soapdish yells out loud enough for everyone to hear that there is nothing he can do to stop Ejiro from continuing to crank away on the knee. But is that really Annie’s objective? Pulling her own body and Ejiro even closer to the ropes, Annie reaches up and grabs the middle rope. Then yanking to one side, Annie starts to drag her adversary and her own body over to her true goal, the steel chair that sits only a few inches out of reach! Finally wise to the plan, Ejiro looks about fit to bust as the crowd begins to buzz in excitement as Annie pulls the weapon into her grip! Controlling the chair, Annie looks up at her newly extended reach as Fasaki tries to untangle his legs… But it’s too late! BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM! Extending the chair fully, Annie brings it up and down across the face of the former member of The Magnificent Seven! Immediately slacking, Ejiro can no longer hold Annie’s legs in the slightest and she pulls her knee out of the lock. Pulling herself up by the ropes once again, Onita looks out to the cheering crowd for just a moment as all of Utah cheers on the colorful grappler. Collapsing forward, Annie makes a cover as the crowd counts along… ONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNE! TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! NO I DON’T BELIEVE IT! EJIRO KICKS OUT AT TWO! Just barely able to get his body out from underneath Annie, Ejiro staves off getting pinned once again as The Hardcore Queen slowly manages to force her way up yet again. Grabbing the wounded Tag Team Champion by the hair, Annie manages to pull him up to his feet as the crowd looks on eager to see Annie put this match away and claim the number one contender’s spot for the ICTV Title. But with her knee so banged up, Annie cannot lift Ejiro for a throw or get the drive needed to hit martial arts strikes. All that leaves is taking the match to the extreme edges where men like Dace Night make their homes. Collecting the chair once again, Annie uses the dented weapon to prop herself up as Fasaki drops down to a knee yet again. Lifting the chair up on high though, Annie exposes herself just enough for Ejiro to drive a fist into her stomach and cause her to drop the chair to the canvas. Staggering, Ejiro runs into the ropes as hard as he can in his battered state before he finds himself jerked into the air for the briefest of moments and driven drown on the healthy knee with a reverse atomic drop! Bouncing off the knee, Ejiro lands on his knees once again as Annie looks to chain some moves together. Leaning into the ropes herself, Annie comes limping her way back… BOOM! SHINING WIZAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARD! Slamming the point of her injured knee into the side of Ejiro’s head, Annie sends her foe to the canvas once again as she deals with the pain she caused herself with that desperation strike to the head. But still looking at Ejiro shuddering on the canvas somehow makes it all worth it. Rolling to the ropes yet again, Annie uses the assistance to drag her body off the canvas. Then limping over to Fasaki, Annie makes sure the chair is underfoot as she grabs Ejiro and pulls him into a double arm! “DAYBREAK! DAYBREAK PEDIGREE!” Setting Ejiro up, Annie looks to crush his skull one last time into the chair with all of her weight on top. But Ejiro stands up underneath and manages to backdrop Onita over the top and to the canvas! Comet roars into his headset, “Major save there by Fasaki! If Annie had hit the pedigree this one would have been over right here and now!” “It might be over anyway! Annie landed on the chair with the back of her head taking the brunt.” Immediately grabbing the chair out from underneath the Hardcore Queen, Fasaki motions to Annie to get her carcass up while holding the chair up at a dangerous angle. Watching and waiting with the look of the devil on his face, Ejiro looks about ready to commit a crime as Onita rises to her shake legs. But only for a moment… CRASH! “He knee capped her!” calls out The Comet as Ejiro slams the chair into the side of Annie’s leg and once again causes her to collapse to the canvas! “Annie must not have connected as well as she thought with the shining wizard and that has allowed Fasaki to come back and do that to her.” Flopping to the mat right on her face, Annie screams out as she feels her entire leg drop to nothing. And standing tall with the chair in hand stands Fasaki with the chair in hand, knowing that he might have just chaired all of the fight right out of his opponent. Well… better safe than sorry. CRASH! CRASH! “STOP IT! STOP IT YOU MONSTER!” Crushing Annie’s knee under two more vile shots with the chair, Ejiro rears back with the chair once again as the crowd visibly shudders under the sympathetic pain that they feel for Annie right now as she curdles up into a painful little ball. But Fasaki instead tosses the chair away and dives on top of his victim and hooks a hand full of pants as Soapdish mercifully counts. ONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNE! TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! DING! DING! DING! “This one is over and thank God for that.” “Mercifully over to be exact,” gloats Riley as Ejiro climbs to his feet and makes his way over to the ring ropes. Funyon’s disgruntled voice booms through the arena, “The winner of this match and NEW Number one contender to the ICTV Championship… Ejiro Fasaki.” “I have to say that I am disgusted by this entire display…” “No one cares.” Climbing up to the middle rope, Ejiro lifts his arm to the crowd as the sounds he loves so much rings throughout the arena… “FU FASAKI! FU FASAKI! FU FASAKI! FU FASAKI! FU FASAKI!”

As soon as Lockdown comes back from a short commercial break, there is action already! “What is Fight Club” by the Dust Brothers begins to play its slow, rhythmic beat, as the lights begin to pulse, flaring then fading slowly. As the drums kick in, Linchpin walks out, nodding his head to be beat, only a slight hint of a smile as he looks around the arena, adjusting his gloves and moving his head from side to side. Comet: “And we are back with SWF Lockdown for another evening, and our second match of the evening is about to begin!” Riley: “Darn tootin’ Cyclone. Tonight, we’ll see the return of everyone’s favourite Australian, Stryke! And he’ll take on some guy…forgot his name.” Comet: “Ahem, that’d be Linchpin, Citizen Riley. I’ve been speaking with many people in the back all week, and they expect big things from Stryke in his new SWF run… but no love is coming for Linchpin, the relative unknown who fell to John Duran in his first SWF match on Storm in dubious circumstances, but we won’t go into that right now…” Riley: “I’ve known of Stryke’s unlimited potential for some time, and now is the time that he show us what he is truly capable of as he begins his quest by toppling this grease ball Linchpin.” Linchpin nods his head as the fans do, simply oozing cool, and they cheer in response, watching the mysterious character reach ringside and climb the steps. Linch takes his fedora and jacket off, neatly placing them over the ring post, before climbing through the ropes. Standing in the center of the ring next to the referee is Funyon, grumbling, jealous of Linchpin’s quality suit. He swallows his pride and proceeds with the announcements… Funyon: “Ladies and Gentleman, the following match is a singles match, and it is scheduled for one fall… Introducing first, from Chicago Illinois… Funyon: “Ladies and Gentleman, the following match is a singles match scheduled for one fall! Now, the participants… introducing first, from Chicago, Illinois. He stands six foot three, and weighs in at two hundred and nineteen pounds… he is Public Enemy Number One, please welcome… LINCHPIN!” The fans cheer at the announcements of his name, still supporting the Mafioso with the hard luck.. Linch stays cool, calm and collected as he walks around the ring. Riley: “He thinks he’s so cool with his suit and his scar, pfft… I have plenty of scars, that makes me like, uber cool.” Comet: “I do not find penile implant scars to be attractive, though I may be alone on that one. Let’s ask the fans, shall we?” All of a sudden, blue and white spotlights start dancing across the crowd as Pantera’s “Becoming” kicks into action. The crowd roars to life in a wave of boos, but they’re quickly drowned out as a deafening blast of blue and silver pyrotechnics consumes the entrance. The sparks and smoke clear, revealing the former Hardcore, Tag and ICTV champion Stryke standing atop the stage! Stryke wastes little time posturing for the fans, quickly heading to the ring as boos rain down on him, Funyon commencing the introductions. “… And, his opponent! All the way from Sydney, Australia. He stands six foot three and weighs in at two hundred and thirty eight pounds… he is the other thunder from down under… please welcome, making his return to an SWF ring… STRYKE!” The fans get up and boo the hell out of the returning veteran, though he cares very little as he slides into the ring, standing back up and looking across the ring at his opponent, keeping a confident smile… Riley: “Stryke, as calm and confident as always, but, I just don’t like this ‘Linchpin’ character… It boggles the mind, Comet; this man is a convicted felon, a CONVICTED FELON Cyclone! You heard me right! Yet, he has the support of every baby face in the back, and every SWF fan!” Comet: “Just another example of the people willing to let past transgressions slide and welcome him with open arms!” Riley: “But have you seen this guys rap sheet? It’s a mile long!” Comet: “I don’t care if he’s rapped with R. Kelly or Randy Savage, he’s still a-ok in my book! Funyon quickly leaves the ring as the two men approach each other, both smiling. Linchpin rolls up his sleeves as Stryke punches the air, hopping on the spot, ready to pound his opponent into dust. The referee interjects himself into the middle, checking both men, and then pointing to ringside… DING! DING! DING! Comet: “Here we go! Two men with similar styles, both able to give and take a beating. It will be interesting to see the tactics involved.” The dastardly Australian sets to the task of putting this young rookie in his place, attempting to enter into an elbow and collar tie up, but Linchpin surprises him with a sweep kick that takes out his legs. Stryke immediately whirls back to his feet, already angered by the cockiness of this young rookie, and lashing out with a clothesline attempt, but Linchpin dives onto the mat and takes him down with a Drop Toe Hold! Comet: “Citizen Linchpin shows some ingenuity early on, also showing he isn’t put off by Stryke’s many years of experience!” Riley: “Pish posh, he’s put off by the fact that Stryke is a better criminal than him.” Comet: “Uhm, why would that be, Citizen Riley…?” Riley: “You know, those Aussies are all convicts. Hence, Stryke is a convict, because Australia is overflowing with convicts from convict land. God, don’t you keep up with your history, Cyclone?” Maneuvering around his opponent and grabbing him by the neck, Linchpin begins to synch in a front face lock, aiming a few stiff punches towards Stryke’s chest while he’s at it. Surprised but not deterred by the rookie’s confidence, Stryke turns the tables in one fowl swoop, running forward and crushing Linchpin against the turnbuckles! With his foe unattached, Stryke leaves his head lowered and drives his shoulder into Linchpin’s rib cage, once, twice, three, four times! Riley: “Hah! That’s right, just how it should go. Stryke may have ring rust, but Linchpin is untested in the SWF arena. With his greater experience, Stryke should easily control and dominate this match.” Taking Linchpin by the hand, Stryke hauls him out from the corner and sends him across the ring with an Irish Whip. Mr. Silver crashes into the turnbuckles as Stryke takes a running start, charging across the ring, and with arm extended, clotheslines Linchpin, nearly taking his head off! Comet: “That dastardly dick Stryke has always targeted his foe’s neck, always! His shady Australian ways depress lady justice…” Riley: “Convict methods, maybe, a valid tactic? Of course! It severely weakens his opponents, and reduces their capabilities, that’s why he’s always targeted it, and that’s why he’s been so successful.” Comet: “But, then, what about the no showing?” Riley: “Uhm… huh?” The man with the mafia ties is in a bad way as Stryke takes him out from the corner. Stryke throws his opponents arm across his own shoulder, taking him by the waistline and hauling him into the air, dropping him back down with a Vertical Suplex! Not satisfied quite yet, Stryke slowly rolls back to his feet, keeping his hold of Linch. Looking around at the crowd and infuriating them with a royal wave, Stryke spins around and drops Linchpin with a Neckbreaker! Comet: “Brutal, simply brutal! This brutish brute saddens me with his brutal tactics. And he has the audacity to enrage the crowd with a brutal wave!” Riley: “Lose that thesaurus I gave you, eh?” Stryke takes Linchpin by the leg, hooking it for the cover… ONE T… … But Linchpin won’t lie down that easily, kicking out without any trouble. Stryke grins as he lifts his opponent onto his feet, enjoying the feeling of being back in the ring, and hearing the fans taunt and abuse him as he teaches this rookie a lesson. That same rookie, however, won’t be dictated so easily, as he counters by pulling Stryke into a rising knee lift! Grabbing his rib cage in pain, Stryke backs away, grunting as he stalks back towards Linchpin, but the rookie surprises him with an Ankle scissors that flips him over onto his back! Both men are immediately back to there feet, but Linchpin is determined to ‘strike’ Stryke first. Riley: “Oh come on, that pun was just poor.” Comet: “That dog won’t hunt, monsignor.” Riley: “… Wha…?” Linchpin drops Stryke once again, hitting him across the face with a leg lariat! Starting to worry only slightly, Stryke twirls back to his feet, managing to duck underneath a powerful Mafia Kick! His momentum causes Linchpin to dive forward, giving Stryke an opportunity to turn around and wrap his arms around his waist, picking him up and falling backward, nailing Linch with a German Suplex! Comet: “Even I, a champion of justice and the peace must admit, that was a beautiful German Suplex by Citizen Stryke! He hasn’t lost a step in his absence, which also saddens me, as I do not want to see Sir Linchpin stumble so early in his promising career…” Riley: “It’s a damn shame, A DAMN SHAME, but unfortunately, there’s nothing you can do to stop it. Stryke is just too good for this rookie.” Comet: “I hope you’ll be eating your words at the end of the night, Citizen Robert. In only his first match, Linchpin showed he had great heart, and I know he won’t lose faith so quickly.” Riley: “He’s a criminal, Comet, he has no heart.” The referee dives across as Stryke keeps hold of Linchpin in a bridge! ONE TWO… Riley: “Speaking of criminal…!” … Linchpin kicks out! Stryke backs away as Linchpin tries to get to his feet, only able to remain doubled over as he feels a twinge in his neck. Stryke looks to exploit and execute, backing into the ropes and bouncing from them towards Linchpin, leaping into the air with his leg extended, looking for the Showstopper…! Riley: “Come on, this HAS to do it! Just lie down Linchpin, damnit, lie down!” Comet: “Men like Linchpin aren’t afraid of a little pain. You’ll have to basically incapacitate him to beat him!” … But Linchpin throws his body back, avoiding the move! Stryke lands back on his feet, slightly thrown off course, but manages to kick Linchpin in the stomach… No! His foot is caught! Linch swings Stryke around on one leg, spinning him around. At the same time, Linchpin spins around, and as each man makes a full circle rotation, Linchpin hits Stryke in the stomach with a spinning back kick! Stryke stumbles backward with his arms on his rib cage, as Linchpin looks to exploit the situation himself, taking one, two, three steps, before pulling his body up into a back flip… WHACK! … Nailing Stryke in the head with a back flip kick! Comet: “Such agility from such a deceptive frame! Every now and then, he is capable of something amazing!” Riley: “Bah humbug, anyone can do that. Linchpin is ALL flash, there’s no power behind his strikes, and that’s where he’ll hit a stumbling block.” The crowd adores the so-called Public Enemy Number One as they cheer, and a small chant even breaks out for him, trying to bolster his spirit as he attempts to regain the momentum. Stryke is completely stunned by the rookie’s athleticism, stumbling backward into the ropes, and then making his return, unable to duck underneath a… CRACK! Comet: “Wow! Absolutely NO power behind that kick at all, right Riley? Stryke’s just collapsed to the mat because of sun stroke, right?” … Mafia Kick! Stryke is completely leveled, crashing to the mat as he’s covered by Linchpin! Riley: “… DAMNIT! Linchpin moves into the cover!” ONE TWO… … But Stryke gets a shoulder up after the count of two! Riley: “HAH! I wasn’t worried at all then…” The crowd continues to cheer as Linchpin gets Stryke to his feet, whipping him into the nearest set of ropes. Stryke comes charging back, ducking underneath a flying lariat just at the last second! Stryke continues onto the opposite ropes, coming back towards his opponent, but this time he’s unable to avoid impact as Linchpin takes him down with a flipping dropkick to the jaw! Stryke crashes to the mat once again, covered again by the sprightly Linchpin! Riley: “Somebody tie a leash around him! As I said though, all flash. Stryke has already done the damage in my eyes to prevail over this pathetic rookie.” Comet: “Don’t be so sure, monsignor. I’ve watched Linchpin more than you have, and I’ve witnessed him reverse the momentum of a match completely in his favor with only a few ‘strikes’!” Riley: “Oh, not you too!” ONE TWO… … But again, another two count! Riley: “Too, too early for Linchpin. You may have seen more of Linchpin, Cyclone, but I’ve seen more of Stryke, and he is in amazing physical condition, maybe the best of his career. Outlasting him will be damn near impossible.” Stryke crawls across the ring, taken back by the sudden rush by Linchpin. Mr. Silver follows him though, lifting him up in the corner and pointing to his scar, slapping Stryke straight across the mouth. “OOH!” Comet: “Never disrespect the family…” The fans cry out as Linchpin rears back and NAILS Stryke with a right hand, then another, then another, then another! Linch switches between body shots and straight right hand punches, going to town on Stryke’s entire upper body like a punching bag. Unlike a punching bag though, Stryke counters with a well disguised kick to the stomach that sends Linchpin reeling. Knowing he has to work quickly, Stryke bolts out of the corner… Linchpin catches him in time, picking him up and spinning him around in a Tilt-a-Whirl showing great strength for his size. He can’t hold Stryke though, and the Aussie drops onto his feet, giving Linch a swift kick to the stomach. Stryke attempts a hip toss, hooking his arm underneath Linchpin’s, but Linch blocks it and then twists around, hooking Stryke’s arms for a backslide. He can’t seem to hook Stryke’s second arm though, and the crafty Australian counters by spinning around and hooking both of –his- arms with Linchpin’s, suddenly and violently dropping to the mat with a modified Neckbreaker! Comet: “OH MY! My, my, my, a lovely move I must admit! Citizen Stryke turns the situation around and shifts the momentum completely with just one move, one that compacted the neck of Linchpin. Ouch…” Riley: “Not lovely, but beautiful. A simple variation on a simple move provides devastating results. Simply breathtaking.” Comet: “You stole my thesaurus, didn’t you?” The crowd ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ at the ingenious counter, but they soon begin to boo as Stryke covers for the pin… ONE TWO T… … But Linchpin gets a shoulder up after two. The suspected mobster grabs at his neck, cringing as he feels a sharp spike of pain shoot through his neck and down his spine. Stryke laughs to himself, making sure to focus on it as he lifts Linchpin to his feet, gripping his fingers around his neck tightly. Stryke sends Linchpin across the ring with an Irish Whip, and the gangster hits the ropes and comes back, only to be floored by a… SMACK! Comet: “OOH NO!” … Superkick from Stryke! The rookie groans as he tries to roll away, his neck sent flinging back violently from the tremendous impact. Taking his sweet and precious time about things, Stryke calmly walks across the ring, making sure to get a few stomps onto Linchpin’s neck before raising him to his feet. Stryke lifts the rookie from the mat form behind, spinning him around in the back drop Suplex position! Linchpin escapes! As Stryke spins around, he loses control of Mr. Silver and he falls behind him. As he hits the mat, Linchpin holds his neck in pain, every heavy landing giving him a jolt. He sucks it up and continues however, trying to avoid moves that involve his neck, charging towards Stryke with another Mafia Kick! The Aussie ducks below the wild blow, and as he spins around behind Linchpin, grabs the rookie around the neck with a… Sleeper Hold! The crowd suddenly deflates as they watch Stryke wrestle with Linchpin, wrangling his neck between his arms. Linchpin lets out a cry as Stryke works on his neck, twisting it around at will. Comet: “A despicable move from a despicable man, as he begins to choke the life out of poor Linchpin…” Riley: “Don’t cry, Cyclone, this is great thinking from Stryke. Just as it looked like Linchpin could take control once again, Stryke slows him down completely and keeps control.” The blood rushes to Linchpin’s head, his face glowing bright red as Stryke lowers him onto two knees slowly, draining the life out of him. Linchpin coughs twice as his eyes slowly close, and the ref comes in for a closer look, taking Linch by the arm. He lifts his arm up… and it drops! “ONE!” He lifts it up again… Comet: “No, Lord Linchpin! Please, fight on for justice my little mafia man!” “TWO!” He brings it up above his head, letting it drop for the last time, as Stryke grins with glee at his efforts. Riley: “Last chance… Stryke has this all sewn up if Linchpin can’t…” “THRE… NO!” Riley: “YES! YES HE… WHAT? NO! No, no, no! This can’t be!” Comet: “Believe it, Robert! Stryke maybe in the best condition of his life, but Linchpin has colossal vitality, and natural guts!” Suddenly, Linchpin’s eyes open wide, and the rookie awakens! Stryke tries to wear him back down to unconsciousness, but Linchpin is too determined to give up so easily, working his way onto one knee! Linchpin sends his elbow into Stryke’s midsection, stunning him for the moment, allowing him to get onto his feet. Linchpin suddenly spins around, looking for a DDT! But Stryke pushes him away and into the ropes in front of him, where Linchpin hits and bounces back… Comet: “Linchpin could turn the tide here if he could just… NO!” … But gets caught in ANOTHER Sleeper Hold! This time though, Stryke looks to end the match and all resistance by dropping straight down, slamming Linchpin with a Sleeper Drop! Stryke plays to the crowd, gaining their anger and feeling their helplessness before falling on top of Linchpin and hooking him by the leg for the pin… Riley: “What more can I say about this man? It’s simply academic now.” ONE TWO THRE… Riley: “… OH GOD DAMNIT!” … NOT YET! The valiant gangster manages to get a shoulder off from the mat just in time! Stryke’s eyes widen as his head turns to the referee. Knowing too well what’s about to come, the referee backs away as Stryke approaches, trying to suppress his ‘disappointment’ with the referee’s call, slapping his hands together, once, twice, three times, just as the ref should have on the mat. Comet: “I handpicked the referee myself so this contest would be fought fairly with responsible mediation. Citizen Linchpin kicked out, and Sir Stryke needs to turn his attention BACK to the match and not become so complacent!” Behind the Australian, the rookie begins to stir, slowly climbing to his feet, one hand permanently attached to his neck to quell the pain. Stryke just waves the referee away, tired of his incompetence. He turns to Linchpin who is back on his feet, but obviously in a very bad way. Stryke calmly walks towards him, reaching out for his neck, but Linchpin suddenly surprises him by rifling off rights and lefts! The crowd is once again disappointed as Stryke simply nails Linchpin in the neck once with a chop, which is enough to send him reeling. Stryke grabs Linchpin by the hand and whips him in to the ropes… Comet: “A sad day for justice, as Stryke targets the neck once again with an illegal move. Darn that referee! Darn him I say!” … But it’s reversed! Stryke is infuriated by this constant resistance, and tries to cut Linchpin down with a clothesline, but before he can, Linchpin ducks and Stryke continues onto the opposite ropes. As he returns, Stryke goes all out on a dropkick, which Linchpin cannot duck this time! The gangster hits the mat hard, crying out, as the twinge in his neck gets worse. Stryke grumbles, deciding it time to finish things right here, lifting Mr. Silver onto his feet… The fans shake their heads as the returning veteran smiles, taking Linchpin’s arm and threading it between his legs! Riley: “This is it! Stryke’s setting up the LOW END THEORY!” Comet: “He’s taken a beating, but Linchpin must NOT give up now, if he does, justice will be forever lost!” Riley: “But you always say that...” With his opposite arm, Stryke hooks it behind Linchpin’s closest arm, setting him up in the pumphandle position… With all his might, Stryke lifts Linchpin off of the mat and above his head… … Riley: “YES!” … Comet: “…YES!” … Riley: “… NO! NO, NO!” …But the rookie counters! Slipping free from Stryke’s clutches, Linchpin lands behind Stryke, thanking his lucky stars, or his Italian friends for their grease. Stryke is stunned as he turns around… but is nailed in the knee with a spinning kick! Stryke still stands, but another sends him onto his knees, as if he were praying. Comet: “He better hope god grants him mercy, because Linchpin won’t!” Linchpin runs into the ropes in front of him, bouncing back, climbing up onto Stryke’s thigh, and kicking off… … And NAILING him in the face with a rising knee, the SHINING WIZARD! Riley: “ARGH! Linchpin caught a lucky break, somehow managing to slip away and hit Stryke with the 52! This can’t be!” Knowing he has no time to rest, Linchpin crawls across the mat and hooks Stryke by the leg, as the referee, and the fans count! “ONE!” “TWO!” “THREE!” The crowd begins to cheer! Linchpin immediately lets go of Stryke and rolls away, not allowing the referee to raise his hand in victory. DING! DING! DING! Funyon: “The winner of this match via the Shining Wizard… LINCHPIN!” Riley: “I can’t believe it! Stryke was robbed! He dominated this match from bell to bell, with only token resistance from Linchpin, but the mafia man enlisted the help of lady luck…” Comet: “And lady justice!” Riley: “… To help him STEAL this match! I hope that neck of his hurts for a long time to come…” Not staying to celebrate his victory, knowing his only scraped a win from the jaws of certain defeat, Linchpin stumbles up the ramp way, clutching at his neck while Stryke only now begins to stir. Comet: “What a fast, few-flowing match that was! Linchpin prevails in the end, and the rookie picks up his first SWF win!” Riley: “It was just ring rust I say, ring rust…” Comet: “Stay tuned after this break for more Lockdown, where Annie “Ichiban” Onita will take on Ejiro Fasaki with the ICTV title number one contendership on the line. Don’t go away Citizens!” The camera focuses on Linchpin, making some sort of Italian gesture toward the camera as we fade out…

“We’re just about ready for our first match tonight,” says Cyclone Comet, “As Charlie “The Grappler” Matthews, who made a triumphant return last week against Annie Onita on Storm, will get an opportunity to challenge Wildchild for the Hardcore Championship!” “Time is about to run out on Wildchild’s reign as Hardcore Champion,” adds Bobby Riley. “He’s been lucky thus far, but the Grappler’s on a roll, and with James Matheson in his corner, this match is a foregone conclusion!” “I wouldn’t be so quick to make that statement, Citizen Robert,” replies Comet. “There’s no question that Citizen Grappler is a worthy opponent, but over the last five months, Wildchild has proven that he has been able to overcome his lack of strength and defeat many formidable opponents with his speed, agility, and indomitable will to hold on to the Hardcore Title!” “I’ll grant you that Wildchild has been able to hold onto the title so far, but the Grappler has something that none of his previous challengers had: a manager. Mark my words, Comet; James Matheson is going to be the x-factor in this match. He’s not going to allow Matthews to leave the ring empty-handed!” “I must admit that I was shocked when Citizen Grappler decided to retain the managerial services of the dastardly James Matheson,” replies Comet. “With him at ringside, Wildchild is going have to keep his head on a swivel, but if there’s any superstar in the SWF who’s fast enough to keep track of two men, it’s the Wildchild! Right now, let’s go to Funyon for the official introductions!” The SWF’s faithful ring announcer stands in the center of the ring, dressed to the nines in a white tuxedo. Raising the microphone to his lips, he says, “Ladies and Gentlemen, our opening contest, scheduled for one fall, is for the SWF Hardcore Championship!” With that, the lights go out in the E Center as Metallica’s “Some Kind of Monster” begins to play. From the top of the rafters, a solitary spotlight shines down on the stage as James Matheson steps out onto the stage, dressed in an obnoxious powder blue polyester suit and fuchsia cummerbund. The West Valley fans begin to boo loudly as the annoying agent revels in their jeering. Matheson wheels around to face the backstage curtain, waving his arms with a flourish as the Grappler steps out onto the stage. Matheson walks up to greet him and pats him on the shoulder, rubbing the air in front of his midsection and saying, “It’s all yours, Daddy!” “Introducing first,” says Funyon, “the challenger! He is being led to the ring by his manager, James Matheson! From Kansas City, Missouri, weighing two hundred eighty-seven pounds, here is CHARLIE… “THE GRAAAAAPLER” MAAAAATHEWS!” Matthews stops about halfway down the ramp, his attention diverted by a nearby fan, proudly holding a sign reading, “I CAME TO SEE DE WILDCHILD!” Agitated, the Grappler reaches over the barricade, snatching the sign from the fan and ripping it into pieces, leaving it lying on the arena floor. As he continues his march down to the ring, Matheson turns towards the fan and makes a big show of laughing at him. “Can you believe that scoundrel,” roars Comet. “As if it isn’t bad enough to Citizen Grappler to ruin that poor youngster’s sign, that fiend Matheson is laughing at him!” “Well,” replies Riley, “you have to admit, it is a little funny…” “Ballonjuice,” shouts Comet. “Taunting that helpless youth is beyond the pale, ever for a delinquent such as Matheson!” At this, Comet begins to stand up. “Someone should teach that rogue a lesson, and that someone is none other than CYCLOO—” Riley puts a hand on Comet’s shoulder and coaxes him back into his seat. “How many times do I have to remind you, this isn’t one of your Bollywood action movies? That isn’t an actor in there; Matthews would chew you up and spit you out!” Comet turns to face Riley, his eyes livid. “How DARE YOU—” “Besides,” interrupts Riley, “if Wildchild is as good as you think he is, I’m sure that he’ll defend that kid’s honor.” “Indeed,” says Comet. “Come then, Wildchild; I am counting on you to defend the honor of defenseless fans around the world.” Matheson walks over towards Funyon as the lights come back on in the E Center and seizes the microphone from him. The pesky promoter taps repeatedly on the top of the microphone, creating a loud squelch as “Some Kind of Monster” fades out, eliciting a few more boos from the fans. “Is this, I say, is this thing on,” asks Matheson, to which the crowd responds with a renewed litany of boos. “It’s such a privilege for you all FINE people here in the great state of…” Matheson pauses with a thoughtful expression before leaning over towards Matthews. “Pardon me, Daddy, but exactly what state ARE we in?” BOOOOOOOO! The Grappler leans over and stage whispers into Matheson’s ear, prompting him to bellow out, “Ah yes, of course, here in the great state of Utah. Although, quite frankly, this state isn’t all that great…” YOU SUCK! YOU SUCK! YOU SUCK! “But as I said before,” continues Matheson, “it is a privilege for all you FINE people to be here tonight, for you are about to bear witness, I say, bear witness to an HISTORIC event! Because heah tonight, in Salt Lake City, the Grapplah is fixin’ to begin his reign of terror in the Hardcore Division! All of you FINE people will finally have someone to look up to in Charlie Matthews, and you won’t have to worry about seeing anymore of that top rope mess…” BOOOOOOOO! “… Because the Grapplah is going to give you all what you REALLY want to see; the finest display of power wrestling and technical excellence ever to grace the squared circle!” BOOOOOOOO! “So, without any further ado,” finishes Matheson, “let’s get that little island fellow out here so that we can take care of this little formality!” Matheson turns the microphone back over to Funyon and turns his attention to Matthews. “I tell you, Robert,” says Comet, “Matheson isn’t hurting for a lack of confidence, is he?” “Would you be,” asks Riley. “He’s got one of the most imposing physical specimens in the SWF in Charlie Matthews, and with Matheson driving the bus, this match is in the bag!” “Well, one person may have something to say about that,” says Comet, who is suddenly interrupted as the arena again grows dark: ATTENTION! ALL YOU NIGGAZ! ALL YOU BITCHES! TIME TO PUT DOWN THE CRISTAL, TIME TO TAKE OFF THE ICE FOR A MINUTE… TIME TO THROW A LITTLE MUD IN THIS MOTHERFUCKA… Nearly thirteen thousand fans rise to their feet, cheering themselves hoarse as Reggie Noble’s voice kicks off “Let’s Get Dirty.” “… AND HERE HE COMES RIGHT NOW,” shouts Comet. A single spotlight centers itself on the stage, flashing off and on in rhythm with the music, and into which steps the Hardcore Champion, his now familiar chest protector covering his chest, and the Hardcore Championship Belt covering his waist. In his right hand is a kendo stick, which he holds above his head as the crowd cheers enthusiastically. “AAAAND his opponent,” says Funyon, “from the Bahamas, weighing two hundred fourteen pounds, he is the reigning and defending SWF Hardcore Champion! He is: The WIIIILDCHIIIIILD!” The Bahama Bomber begins to bounce down the aisle, appearing to fade in and out of consciousness as the spotlight disappears and reappears. About halfway down the ramp, he suddenly breaks into a dead run, somersaulting into the ring, cane still in hand, and springing to his feet. The Grappler rushes to meet him head on, extending his left arm to deliver a massive clothesline, but Wildchild manages to easily duck underneath and race to the other side. The quick-thinking technicians flip the lights back on as the Human Hurricane bounces off the ropes, and Matthews raises his right knee into Wildchild’s midsection… SMACK! DING! DING! DING! As “Let’s Get Dirty” abruptly cuts out, Wildchild looks over at the Grappler clutching his knee in pain, as he realizes that Matthew’s knee came into direct contact with the solid gold surface of his Hardcore Championship! “Bell’s gone,” shouts Comet. “We’re underway, and look at that! The Grappler tried to give him the knee, but Wildchild still had the belt on, and he hurt his own leg!” WHAM! In a flash, Wildchild ducks behind Matthews and, grasping the kendo stick with both hands, jams it into the back of the Grappler’s right knee, knocking off his feet and sending him on his back onto the canvas! “This is uncalled for,” bellows Riley. “Look at him attacking the Grappler’s knee like a coward! And, with a kendo stick, no less!” “First of all,” replies Comet, “This is a hardcore match, Citizen Riley, so it’s not as if he’s doing anything illegal by using that kendo stick. And, second of all, it serves Matthews right; trying to jumpstart the match like that! Not even allowing the champion to get situated before trying to get an early advantage!” CRACK! Wildchild raises the kendo stick up above his head and swings it downward, smashing it into the Grappler’s knee! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! Wildchild continues to batter Charlie’s knee with the cane, until he rolls over onto his stomach in an attempt to protect it, but Wildchild just takes that opening to grab Matthews by his right foot, lift his leg high into the air… WHAM! … And slam his knee down into the canvas! The Grappler rolls back over onto his back, howling wildly. “As you can see, ladies and gentlemen,” says Comet, “Wildchild has decided on an early point of attack. A very smart strategy to take one of the big man’s legs away from him.” “Well,” chimes in Riley, “it’s not as if Matthews exactly relies on his mobility or his quickness to win matches.” “Perhaps not,” replies Comet, “but, if he can’t stand on both legs, he’s not going to be in much of a position to deliver very many power moves.” Wildchild grabs Charlie’s heel and drags him over to the edge of the ring. Still holding the cane in one hand, he lays the Grappler’s foot up against the bottom rope and then leaps onto the top rope, springing high into the air and twisting around to face the ring as he starts to fall… WHAM! … Landing in a seated position right on the Grappler’s knee! Matthews sits up sharply, his eyes wide from pain as Wildchild lands on his wounded knee… CRACK! … And the Bahama Bomber uses that opportunity to raise the kendo stick above his head, slamming it into Charlie’s head and knocking him back down to the mat! Wildchild rises quickly and races towards the corner, leaping onto the top rope and springing back off, twisting through the air and pumping his arms and legs in a jackknife motion… WHAM! … Before crashing into the Grappler’s unprotected chest with a Twisting Frog Splash! The Champion grabs Matthew’s right leg underneath his wounded knee and applies a cover. The referee dives into position, and the crowd chants along in anticipation of an early pinfall: ONE! TWO! THREE— NO! “Kickout,” shouts Riley. “Two count only!” The Tropical Tumbler rolls away from Matthews and scrambles to his feet, swinging the kendo stick above his head as the crowd continues to encourage him. Wildchild waits until Matthews manages to pull himself to his feet before swinging the kendo stick at his head, but the Grappler proves that he still has enough presence of mind to defend himself, swiping at the kendo stick with one massive paw and snatching it out of the air, away from Wildchild. “Hah,” snorts Riley. “Now we’ll see if he can take it as well as he can dish it out!” Matthews holds the kendo stick in both hands and begins to swing at Wildchild’s head, but the damage sustained to his knee makes him unable to fully support his weight on it, forcing him to take a bad swing, and enabling the Caribbean Cruiser to easily duck underneath it. Wildchild kicks the back of the Grappler’s right knee, forcing him to arch backwards sharply, and then cups Charlie’s chin from behind with both hands, leaving his feet and falling backwards, taking Matthews with him… CRUNCH! … And, at the last second, Wildchild tucks his knees in all the way to his chest, which causes them to jam into the back of the Grappler’s neck as they hit the canvas! Matthews immediately clutches his neck with both hands, the excruciating pain taking precedence over the injury to his knee. “What an unorthodox maneuver by the Wildchild,” remarks Comet. “That appeared to be some sort of neckbreaker!” Unwilling to allow his opponent any respite, Wildchild pulls Matthews to his feet and grabs him by the back of the head, leading him over to the edge of the ring and leaping over the top rope to the arena floor… THWACK! … Clotheslining the Grappler over the top rope as he does so! “Tremendous clothesline-like maneuver by the Champion,” exclaims Comet. “And it seems as though the Wildchild has decided to shift the focus of his attack to the delicate neck of the Grappler!” “I’d say that I’m surprised that he didn’t try to do that earlier in the match,” says Riley, “given the fact the Matthews is know to have suffered extensive neck injuries. But, then again, it doesn’t really surprise me, after all. I mean, Wildchild isn’t exactly known for his technical prowess; I wouldn’t be surprised if it never even occurred to him!” “I think that you’re severely underestimating the Wildchild, Citizen Riley,” replies Comet. “As well-known as Citizen Grappler’s neck injuries are, I can’t imagine that he would allow himself to fall victim to such an obvious strategy right off the bat; he’s big and powerful, and he probably goes into a match with the mindset of protecting the neck at all costs.” Riley blinks his eyes rapidly, apparently unable to put two and two together. “So, what’s your point?” Comet sighs. “My point, Robert, is that you have to wait for your openings; sometimes you have to do certain things to create openings for other things, and by his failed attempt at a sneak attack to start the match, Matthews gave Wildchild the perfect opportunity to target a part of his body long enough to divert his concentration away from protecting his neck.” Wildchild slides back into the ring and walks over to Matthews, rolling him onto his stomach. He then races towards the edge of the ring, building momentum as he bounces off the ropes… WHAM! … And delivers a lightning-fast legdrop to the back of the Grappler’s neck! WHAM! WHAM! Wildchild gets up immediately and delivers two more legdrops in succession, then turns Charlie’s mammoth body over, reaching over to hook the right leg as he makes another cover: ONE! TWO! THREE— KICKOUT! “Give credit to Charlie Matthews,” says Riley. “Wildchild is being very aggressive in going after the neck, but the Grappler’s been able to keep himself in the contest!” “Perhaps,” admits Comet, “but every maneuver by the Wildchild is taking that much more energy out of Matthews. If Wildchild is able to maintain this pace, it won’t belong before the massive Citizen Grappler comes tumbling down!” Wildchild races towards the edge of the ring as Matthews rolls onto his stomach, but as he begins to bounce off the ropes, James Matheson reaches up to grab him by the heel. The Human Hurricane spins around and reaches over the ropes to grab at Matheson, but the irritating emissary spirits away out of his grasp. As the referee leans outside the ropes to verbally admonish Matheson, Wildchild turns his attention back towards the ring… DING! … Only to be caught unawares by the Grappler, who nails him with a desperate low blow! “What are you doing in there, ref,” shouts Comet. “Keep you attention focused on the match!” WHAM! In a split-second, Matthews wraps his arms around Wildchild’s waist and lifts him into the air, lowering him suddenly onto his extended left thigh for a devastating inverted Atomic Drop! Wildchild rolls around on the ring holding his tender groin as the Grappler drops to one knee, still attempting to recover from his earlier injuries. “Damn that scurrilous Matheson,” snarls Comet. “His interference allowed Matthews to hit Wildchild with an illegal low blow, which led directly to that inverted Atomic Drop!” “That’s what a manager is supposed to do,” replies Riley, as the Grappler motions to Matheson from inside the ring. “He saw that his man was in trouble, and needed a little time, and Matheson bought him the time he needed!” Riley pauses for a moment, looking insufferably pleased with himself. “That’s why I said before the match that Matheson was going to be the x-factor in this match, Comet; a little quick thinking on his part has just turned the momentum of this match into the Grappler’s favor!” Matthews pulls Wildchild to his feet and wraps his arms around his waist once more, this time turning sharply on his left heel as he lifts the Caribbean Cruiser in the air… WHAM! … And driving him into the mat with a fearsome Belly-to-Belly suplex! “BIG Belly-to-Belly,” shouts Comet. “Boy, I’ll bet Wildchild felt that one, even through that chest protector!” “You mean that ILLEGAL chest protector,” interjects Riley, “don’t you? Come on, Comet, you can say it!” The masked superhero ignores him, as he notices Matheson sliding a table into the ring. “What is the meaning of this,” he shouts. “Matheson should not be involving himself physically into this match, and he certainly shouldn’t be supplying him with weaponry!” “Hey,” replies Riley with mock sweetness, “being a manager is a job that carries many responsibilities, one of which apparently happens to be supplying his man with a table.” Matthews walks over to the edge of the ring, retrieving the table and setting it up in the corner, leaning it up against the top turnbuckle, as Wildchild lies motionless in the center of the ring. “What do you suppose he intends to do with that table,” Comet wonders aloud. “Isn’t it obvious,” asks Riley. “He’s going to launch Wildchild into that table like a lawn dart! And I’m going to thoroughly enjoy it!” The challenger pushes Wildchild into the opposite corner, rearing his arm back and slamming his immense forearm into the Caribbean’s chest… WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! Grabbing Wildchild by the wrist, Matthews whips him across the ring towards the table, but the Bahama Bomber leaps into the air as he approaches the corner, landing on the top ropes and avoiding the table! Furious, the Grappler rushes after him in pursuit, but Wildchild springs off the ropes flipping backwards over Charlie’s head and landing on his feet behind him. Matthews stops himself short of running into the table, and turns back towards the ring to face Wildchild… CRUNCH! … But the Human Hurricane leaps into the air, thrusting his feet into the Grappler’s face with a tremendous dropkick and knocking him backwards into the table! “Holy Turned Tables,” exclaims Comet. “The Grappler wanted to send Wildchild into that table, but his plan backfired on him!” Wildchild races to the edge of the ring and steps between the ropes out to the ring apron as Matthews staggers out of the corner. He leaps onto the top rope and springs back into the ring, grabbing Matthews by the head as he floats gracefully through the air… WHAM! … And takes him down to the canvas, wrenching his already-injured neck with a spectacular springboard flipping neckbreaker! “BEAUTIFUL flipping neckbreaker by the Hardcore Champion,” shouts Comet. “Grappler isn’t going to be able to take many more of those!” The crowd cheers excitedly for Wildchild’s high-risk offense, and the absolutely go berserk as Wildchild nips up to his feet! The Tropical Tumbler looks out to the crowd and crosses his wrists above his head, pumping them up and down repeatedly. “Can it be,” Comet wonders aloud. “Is Citizen Grappler about to be Presumed Guilty?” Wildchild heads outside to the ring apron and bends down as he prepares to leap onto the top rope, but before he can elevate off the ring apron, Matheson races over to him and grabs him by the leg. The distraction causes Wildchild to look down at the malicious manager, who begins to run towards the far end of the ring as fast as he can. The Hardcore Champion turns his attention back towards the ring, just in time to see Matthews rolling out to the arena floor to recuperate. “Dammit,” growls Comet, “this is the second time Matheson’s interference has affected this match! One would have to believe, with all of the damage that Wildchild has inflicted on the Grappler, that Presumed Guilty would have ended it!” With a frustrated grunt, as if to say, “that’s it,” Wildchild hops off of the ring apron and gives chase to Matheson, who scampers away as if his life depended on it. “Wildchild’s had enough,” shouts Comet. “He’s going after Matheson! That scamp is finally going to get what’s coming to him!” Matheson has a good head start as he begins to race around the ring, but Wildchild, with his superior speed, begins to quickly close the gap. He rounds a corner of the ring, and then a second, and is on the verge of catching up to his prey… WHAM! … When he runs at full-speed into the colossal arm of the Grappler, who nails him with a clothesline that knocks him into the air, flipping three hundred sixty degrees before falling to the arena floor! “By Thor’s Hammer,” shrieks Comet. “WHAT A CLOTHESLINE! He almost took Wildchild’s head off!” “He never saw it coming,” crows Riley. “He was so focused on getting his hands on Matheson, that he forgot the Matthews had rolled out of the ring, and he RAN right into that clothesline!” BANG! The Grappler pulls Wildchild to his feet and grabs him by the wrist, whipping him headfirst into the steel stairs! “Wildchild ran right into a trap,” moans Comet, “and now he’s taking a beating at the hands of the challenger!” “That’s not what’s important right now, Comet,” says Riley. “The important thing is that Matheson didn’t get his comeuppance… and he NEVER WILL!” Matthews rolls Wildchild back into the ring, and slides in himself. He pulls the Caribbean Cruiser to his feet and traps him in a front facelock, before lifting him into the air and holding him upside down. The fans in the E Center boo loudly as continues to keep the hardcore Champion suspended in midair. “Look at the power of Charlie Matthews,” Riley says happily. “Even after the abuse he took to his knee, he still has more than enough strength to get Wildchild up for a vertical suplex!” WHAM! Matthews falls backwards towards the canvas, driving Wildchild into the canvas with a stalling vertical suplex. Holding gingerly onto the back of his neck, the Grappler crawls over towards the Bahama Bomber and falls on top of him for a pinfall attempt: ONE! TWO! THREE— NO! “Two count only,” sighs Comet. “Wildchild still had enough left to get the shoulder up!” Pulling the Tropical Tumbler to his feet, Charlie wraps his arms around Wildchild’s waist and lifts him into the air, suspending the Champion upside down over his shoulder in a Canadian Backbreaker. “Shoulder Rack by the challenger,” says Comet. “This move may not have quite the effect that Citizen Grappler is looking for, due to the—” “ILLEGAL,” interjects Riley. “— Chest protector,” finishes Comet. “But it could allow him the recovery time that he’s needed to have the strength to put Wildchild away for good!” Wildchild struggles to free himself from the Shoulder Rack, but finds himself unable to break the Grappler’s iron grip. In a fit of desperation, he swings his arm up towards Charlie’s head, snapping his head back! BAP! The ensuing impact causes Matthews to take a step back, but he does not relent in his grip, so Wildchild tries a few more times: BAP! BAP! BAP! BAP! The repeated punches causes the Grappler to stagger backwards, losing his balance, and enabling the Bahama Bomber to roll off of his shoulder, locking his legs underneath Charlie’s arms as he somersaults forward to pin him to the canvas with a Sunset Flip! “Sunset Flip,” shouts Comet. “He could have him right here!” But the referee doesn’t even see the pinfall, as James Matheson, who leaps onto the ring apron, raving like a lunatic, has diverted his attention. “Dammit, ref,” roars Comet, “turn around! There’s a pin happening behind you!” Wildchild turns around to figure out what happened to the referee and realizes that Matheson has involved himself in the match yet again. Furious, the Human Hurricane rises to his feet and races over to the edge of the ring, grabbing Matheson by his suit jacket! “He’s got him,” shouts Comet. “Matheson’s finally going to get his comeuppance!” But, as Wildchild cocks his arm back to punch the meddling manager, Matthews grabs his arm from behind, and then grabs the other, freeing Matheson, and pining both of Wildchild’s arms behind him. “Yes,” says Riley. “Matheson gets away again!” With the Grappler barking orders at him, Matheson walks over to Funyon and pushes him out of his seat, folding it up and taking it back towards the ring. “This is going to be great,” says Riley. “Matheson is going to deliver the finishing touches himself!” Charlie continues to hold Wildchild in place as Matheson climbs back onto the apron. He turns to face the crowd, a disingenuous smile on his face as he holds the chair over his head. YOU SUCK! YOU SUCK! YOU SUCK! “Forget those cretins,” shouts Riley. “Finish him off!” Matheson turns his attention back towards the ring, where Wildchild continues to struggle valiantly to try and escape the Grappler’s grasp, and raises the chair into an optimum striking position. “Here it comes,” says Riley. “Kiss that belt goodbye, Wildchild!” But, even as the evil emissary begins to swing down with the heavy steel chair, Wildchild kicks his right heel back sharply, jamming it directly into the Grappler’s sore knee! With the challenger’s balance compromised, the Bahama Bomber suddenly leans forward… CLANG! … Just as Matheson swings down with the chair, driving it into the top of the Grappler’s skull! Matthews releases Wildchild and falls backwards onto his back, as Matheson drops the chair in shock, a look of utter horror written all over his face. “Backfire,” exclaims Comet. “Their diabolical plan has gone awry! Citizen Grappler is not going to be pleased with his manager whenever he comes to!” As Matheson looks on in disbelief, Wildchild races to the corner, leaping onto the middle turnbuckle and springing over the top rope out of the ring, and snaring Matheson’s head as he flies through the air… WHAAAAM!!!! … Spiking it on the padded arena floor with a Springboard DDT! Thirteen thousand fans in the E Center let out a joyful shout as Matheson’s unconscious body bounces off the arena floor! “HELL YES,” shouts Comet. “Springboard DDT! Matheson FINALLY gets his comeuppance!” Wildchild somersaults back into the ring, picking the chair up in stride and holding it above his head as the crowd roars its approval. He lays the chair flat at Matthews’ head and races behind him towards the ropes as he beings to stir. Building momentum as he bounces off the ropes, Wildchild leaps into the air grabbing Matthews by the neck as flips overhead… CLANG! … And driving him face-first into the chair with Flipping Neck Snap! “Flashback,” exclaims Comet. “The Grappler could be out after that move!” Matthews flops onto his back as Wildchild rolls back to his feet and holds his arms above his head, spinning his hands rapidly in the air. The crowd comes to their feet, cheering wildly in anticipation. “Are you kidding me,” says Comet. “Is he going for the FSP? We haven’t seen this move in months!” The Bahama Bomber races towards the edge of the ring, leaping into the air to land on the top rope, and then springs off, flipping forwards as he falls backwards… SPLASH! … To crash into the Grappler’s chest with his patented Falling Star Press! “Falling Star,” shrieks Comet. “Falling Star!” Wildchild leans over to grab Charlie’s right leg underneath his wounded knee, and pulls it into a tight cover. The crowd shouts excitedly as they count along with the referee: ONE! TWO! THREE! DING! DING! DING! The E Center erupts as “Let’s Get Dirty” begins to blast through the speakers once more. The referee walks over to the edge of the ring and leans through the ropes to retrieve the Hardcore Title from Funyon as Wildchild rolls over onto his knees. “He did it,” says Comet. “Wildchild has vanquished one more giant in order to defend his Hardcore Title, and now the stage is set for Terrance Bailey, a former Hardcore Champion himself, to get one more shot at the title sometime in the immediate future!” From outside the ring, Funyon grabs his trusty microphone and lifts it to his lips. “Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of this contest… and STIIIIIL SWF Hardcore Champion… the WIIIILDCHIIIIILD!!!” The referee hands the title to Wildchild and holds his hand aloft in victory as the Bahama Bomber gets to his feet. “A spectacular performance by the Wildchild,” says Comet. “Yet again overcoming a size and strength disadvantage to retain the Hardcore Title. And we’re just getting started! Folks, we’ll be right back with more exciting SWF action, after this!” As we: FADE OUT

Look, I'm not saying it was anyone's fault. The timing of the show has been a (pun intended) ClusterDuck from the start, and that, in the end, falls on my shoulders as the "Master of the Schedule". Either way, I promise it and the card will be up this evening.

Actually, it is Friday, Wednesday, Monday, repeat...

... ummmm... when did this become a Tuesday show? Lockdown is posted on Wednesdays and last time I looked, this show was due on Wednesday. ::sigh:: I will post it when I get home, card to follow. If it is my fault (and i'm not sure it is), I apologize.

No, what would be funny about that is, despite having the worst recoed in the AFC playoffs, the Bengals would host a game in the first round, and maybe another depending on how things shake out. Oh yeah... WHO DEY!! Proud Bengals fan for the last 20 years

You could always order off their website. I think they carry over all the pricing from the stores to the web store.

What's the harm in believing in Santa Claus? I am looking forward to doing the Santa thing if I ever have kids. In the world the state that it is, is there something really foul about letting a small child believe in something magical as long as they can? And, BTW, I still believe even though I know it isn't real.