Kaertos

“Hold on a second!” shouts Bobby. Lockdown was about to cut to commercials, until-- “I’M TOO SEXY FOR MY SHIRT!” “TOO SEXY FOR MY LOVE, LOVE, LOVE, LOVE, LOVE’S GONE AWAY!” “What’s he doing coming out here now?” asked Comet as Johnny Dangerous strolled out onto the stage - his music blaring. With his eyes locked dead on with the Wildchild, Johnny walked briskly towards the ring where his former partner was. “It‘s Mr. Undercover!” says Bobby. “Ejiro Fasaki probably paid Johnny to come interrupt this match!” “Citizen Robert, the match just ended about a minute before Johnny even came out here. So if that were the case, I‘d say Johnny is just a little late. Which It wasn‘t. Even I know Ejiro Fasaki and Johnny Dangerous despise each other with a passion!” “Oh great, now what?” muttered Ejiro. He had come to collect his servant, and wasn’t expecting this clown to come out! Fasaki darted up the ramp, drawing his arm back and ready to swing! WHOOSH! Johnny ducked the intended blow, letting Fasaki’s arm sail high (about an inch actually, we all know he isn’t very tall.) over his head before popping back up... CRACK!! “OH MAH GAWD!” shouts Bobby, as Johnny plants a roundhouse kick to the side of Ejiro’s head, knocking him off the side of the ramp! “Johnny’s trying to kill some folks out here tonight!” Johnny rushes to the ring, and Wildchild stands back, ready for anything... as much as he can be. After all he just finished wrestling his heart out in a hardcore match, he wasn’t exactly running on a full tank. “This could be the moment we have all been waiting to see! Johnny Dangerous and the Wildchild!” Johnny slides into the ring, pops back up to his feet - Wildchild lunges for Johnny with a vicious growl, but Johnny quickly spins on his heel and slices his foot into Wildchild’s skull! WHACK!! Wildchild is floored instantly. Satisfied for the moment, Johnny heads towards the side of the ring and reaches for a microphone. “You want to play stupid with me, Dominic?!” Johnny shouts with the fans booing intensely. “Shut the hell up, all of you! Just shut up! It’s time you learned the whole truth!” Wildchild reaches for the ropes to help pull himself back to his feet as Johnny continues to rant. “Maybe I have been fooling all of you with me being an active Secret Agent on a mission here in the SWF, but I’m not the only one!” “What’s he talking about?” “Shh, Comet, let the man talk!” “You see, I am here to stop him!” Johnny points directly towards Wildchild. “He’s the entire reason that I’m here! I bet you all didn’t know that because of the Wildchild, the United States has been introduced to a new lethal substance! A drug called Zimera HVT!” “You’ve got to be kidding me!” says Comet. “Wildchild’s no drug dealer! Johnny’s insane!” “That’s right. Wildchild is the most wanted man in America right now, imagine that. So if you think I fooled you, then I guess you were really duped by HIM! Boo me all you want, because like it or not... I am here to save each and every one of you!” Wildchild can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Just because da’ skeletons in your closet are out, you want to make someting about me?” he muttered. Wildchild could feel his rage beginning to boil as he began to stalk towards Johnny. “And that, Dominic!” says Johnny spinning around towards Wildchild as he reaches inside his shirt, and pulls out a silver 9 millimeter semi-automatic pistol, pointing it directly into Wildchild’s face. “Is about close enough. Your going down, and your going down tonight. The party’s over Wildchild.” “The party... is over.”

“Welcome back to Lockdown,” shouts an exuberant Cyclone Comet. “We’re coming at you tonight from the Savvis Center in St. Louis, Missouri! Alongside Bobby Riley, I am… (dramatic pause) CYCLOOOOOOONE COMET!” Bobby Riley shakes his head in exasperation as Comet continues. “We’ve already gotten off to a great start here tonight, and coming up next, we’re about to see Dante Crane competing against Wildchild in a match that will be contested under special Cruiserweight Rules, meaning that you must keep your opponent outside the ring for a 20-count in order to win, with the Hardcore Title on the line!” “Wildchild has managed to hold onto the Hardcore Title by the skin of his teeth on the last two shows,” adds Riley, “but tonight he’s taking on a wrestler who just might be his equal in terms of speed and high-flying ability!” “Indeed, Citizen Riley,” agrees Comet. “The two fastest men in the SWF will square off against each other for the first time…” Comet’s eyes light up as he suddenly has an epiphany. “OOH! OOH! This will be just like in Marvel vs. DC #2, when Quicksilver fought against the Flash!” Riley turns to face Comet, and opens his mouth as if to say something, but instead simply shakes his head and turns away. “Although,” continues Comet, “the rules of this match don’t exactly favor the champion, if you think about it; I mean, Ejiro will, in all likelihood, accompany Wildchild to ringside, and it’s no secret that he does not want Wildchild to continue to be the Hardcore Champion.” “Ejiro feels that the Hardcore division is interfering with Wildchild’s development as a wrestler,” says Riley. “And rightfully so! These garbage matches that he keeps getting involved in are allowing him to get away with wrestling that high-risk style. In fact, I think that he should be made for forfeit the Hardcore Title! He is being allowed to openly defy Ejiro by wrestling that way as long as he continues to hold that belt, and that goes against the terms that they agreed to!” “Well,” replies Comet, “The Suicide King said that he had his reasons for not stripping Wildchild for the title; perhaps when Ejiro comes down, we can ask him if he knows what those reasons are. But right now, let’s send you to the ring and the irrepressible Funyon, as he makes his introductions!” Funyon stands in the center of the ring, dressed in a bright fuchsia sharkskin suit and matching wingtip shoes. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he says, “the following contest is for the SWF Hardcore Championship! This match will be fought under special Cruiserweight Rules; in order to win, you must knock your opponent outside the ring, and keep him there beyond a twenty count!” Suddenly, the Savvis Center goes dark. A dim indigo hue begins to permeate the arena, and twenty-two thousand fans begin to cheer as Marilyn Manson’s “Great Big White World” begins to play. The chilling sounds of the keyboard lead haunt the arena, and the crowd sings along with the chorus: “I’m not attached to your world, nothing heals, nothing grows… I’m not attached to your world, nothing heals, nothing grows!” BOOM! Bursts of white and blue pyro illuminate the stage as the song enters its refrain: “Cause it’s a great big white world! And we are drained of our colors! We used to love ourselves! We used to love one another!” As the crowd sings along to the chorus, the Sick Boy steps from behind the curtain, cloaked as usual by an ankle-length leather trench coat. Dante walks purposefully down towards the ring, not even acknowledging the fans that chant his theme as he strides down the ramp. “Introducing first,” says Funyon, “the challenger! From Shawinigan, Quebec, Canada, weighing two hundred ten pounds, here is the ‘Sick Boy,’ DAAAAANTEEEEE CRAAAAANE!” Crane slides underneath the bottom rope as the lights come back on in the arena, and stands up inside the ring. He removes his jacket and leans over the top rope, handing it to a nearby ring attendant. “Citizen Crane looks completely focused on winning the Hardcore Title tonight,” observes Comet. “If anybody in the SWF can beat Wildchild at his own game, it’s Dante Crane,” adds Riley. “I’ve got to believe that Wildchild’s luck with the Hardcore Title is about to run out!” Dante backs into a neutral corner, stretching his legs out as his music fades into the ethereal. Suddenly, the fans begin cheering again as Biohazard’s “Sellout” begins to play. Wildchild steps from behind the curtain, with Ejiro following closely behind. “His opponent,” continues Funyon, “is being accompanied to the ring by the United States Champion, Ejiro Fasaki! From the Bahamas, weighing in at two hundred fourteen pounds, he is the SWF Hardcore Champion… The WIIIILDCHIIIIILD!” Ejiro catches up to Wildchild and begins berating him as the two head down the ramp, apparently chastising him for not allowing Ejiro to lead. “As Wildchild and Ejiro come down to ringside,” notes Comet, “you can feel the tension in the air between the two!” “I don’t know what Wildchild’s problem is,” replies Riley. “He lost their match at Ground Zero fair and square; he’s got no business being mad at Ejiro for having to abide by stipulations that he himself agreed to. If anything, Ejiro’s the one who has a real reason to be mad; Wildchild isn’t fully honoring the terms of their agreement, and he’s hiding behind the Hardcore title as a reason to continue defying Ejiro!” “I’m sure we’ll have an opportunity to hear it from Fasaki himself,” adds Comet, “as he’ll undoubtedly join us for commentary, whether we like it or not…” “What are you trying to say,” demands Riley. “Are you implying that the United States Champion is not welcome here at ringside? Because, let me tell you something, buddy—” “Enhance your calm, Citizen Riley,” replies Comet. “I merely meant to say that Ejiro Fasaki, welcome or otherwise, has taken it upon himself to interject his presence onto the broadcast team whenever Wildchild has been in the ring as of late.” “And a most welcome interjection, if you ask me,” says Riley boisterously. “Ejiro has quickly established himself as delight to listen to, so as far as I’m concerned, he can interject himself over here anytime!” Comet stifles a giggle. “I’m sure that would make your entire lifetime, Robert, but this is, nonetheless, a family show, and I’ll ask you to kindly keep your carnal fantasies to yourself!” “W-w-w-what,” stammers a flustered Riley. “I didn’t mean… I mean, that wasn’t what… I mean…” As Bobby attempts to regain his powers of speech, Wildchild walks up the steel stairs and steps into the ring, still being verbally assailed by Ejiro. As Wildchild begins to remove his Justice & Rule jersey, Fasaki orders him to leave it on, to which the Bahama Bomber responds by not only removing the jersey, but sliding it back and forth between his legs in a most disrespectful manner to the delight of the twenty-two thousand in attendance, before tossing it into the crowd. “I can’t believe that Wildchild would do something so blatantly disrespectful,” roars Riley. “Wildchild should be fined and suspended for that!” Wildchild hands his championship belt over to the referee as Rule burns holes in his back with a fiery stare. As he makes his way over to the announce table, the referee hands the belt outside and orders the timekeeper to ring the bell, signifying the start of the match. DING! DING! DING! Wildchild and Dante slap hands in a show of sportsmanship before circling each other around the ring. They meet in the center in a collar-and-elbow tie-up, which Wildchild quickly takes advantage of, going behind into a waistlock, and tripping Dante behind the heel, surprising him with a waistlock takeover. WHAM! Wildchild leaps into the air before Dante even has time to move, and crashes onto his back with a Senton splash! Dante rolls towards a neutral corner to regroup as Wildchild bounces to his feet, seeking (and finding) crowd approval for his antics. “We’re off to a fast start,” notes Comet, “and Wildchild definitely looks to set the pace for this match!” Dante gets back to his feet and the two combatants approach each other once again. They begin to engage in a knuckle lock, which Dante interrupts with a sudden axe kick, but Wildchild leans back out of his range just in the knick of time. Without even a second’s hesitation, Dante coils that same leg back and thrusts it swiftly forward, seeking to decapitate the Hardcore Champion with a Muetai-style roundhouse kick, but the Bahama Bomber again ducks to safety, grabbing the Sick Boy by his other leg and tripping him to the mat! Dante rolls over onto his back and kicks Wildchild away into the ropes, planting both feet into his stomach as he rebounds and launching him through the air with a monkey flip… … But, unbeknownst to him, the Bahama Bomber lands on his feet! Bending into a ready crouch as Dante rolls to his feet, Wildchild explodes off the ropes, leaping into the air and blasting the Sick Boy backwards with a running dropkick! SMACK! Wildchild races back towards the opposite edge of the ring as Dante gets to his feet, leaping into the air and blasting him underneath the chin with a leg lariat that sends him through the ropes to the arena floor! “Dante is reeling!” exclaims Comet. “The Champion is on a roll!” Wildchild charges back across the ring as Dante scrambles to his feet on the outside, Launching himself over the top rope. Crane sees Wildchild flipping over the top rope, and deftly moves to the side to avoid the crash, but the Bahama Bomber hangs onto the top rope and lands safely on the apron! Dante turns around slowly, looking towards the arena floor for the fallen Wildchild, and is surprised to discover that he is not there! He looks up towards the ring apron… WHAM! … But is too late to evade the Wildchild, who leaps off the apron into a seated position on Crane’s shoulders, and locks his legs behind the challenger’s neck before arching back, pulling Dante through the air, and onto his back with a breathtaking leaping rana! “Leaping Lizards,” exclaims Comet, “What a SPECTACULAR maneuver by the Wildchild!” “You can see that Wildchild is giving Dante all kinds of problems in the early going of this match,” adds Riley. “It’s obvious that Dante has never faced anyone who can match him in speed, and might even be faster than him, and he’s going through hell trying to adjust!” THREE! FOUR! FIVE! Wildchild begins to head over towards Dante, but is momentarily distracted by Ejiro, who takes a mock swing at him, just to get his attention. “Stay out of dis,” roars Wildchild, as he turns his attention back towards his opponent. Pulling Dante to his feet, Wildchild grabs him by the arm and whips him towards the far ring barricade, but the Sick Boy reverses. Wildchild leaps onto the barricade and springs off backwards, twisting in mid-air as he dives onto Dante… CRACK! … But the Sick Boy has more than enough presence of mind to leap into the air and blast Wildchild in the face with a jaw-dropping Whipback Kick! “Holy Cyclotrons,” shouts Comet. “The Crane Kick! Dante scores with the Crane Kick!” ELEVEN! TWELVE! THIRTEEN! Dante staggers over to the ring and rolls underneath the bottom rope, as the referee continues the count against Wildchild. FOURTEEN! FIFTEEN! “A momentary distraction by Ejiro may have facilitated the first reversal of fortune in this match,” bemoans Comet. “Don’t make excuses for Wildchild,” replies Riley dismissively. “He had no business going for something that risky this early in the match!” SIXTEEN! SEVENTEEN! Wildchild pulls himself to his feet, finally becoming aware of the referee’s count. EIGHTEEN! NINETEEN! Wildchild dives underneath the bottom rope in time to beat the twenty count, and pushes himself to his feet. Appreciative of the acrobatic move that almost cost him the match, he smiles towards Crane and begins clapping his hands overhead to get the crowd even more involved in the match… CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! The capacity crowd in the Savvis Center joins in on the clapping, and adds to the din by stomping their feet on the ground as Wildchild and Crane begin to circle each other once again. “Wildchild showing his appreciation for Dante Crane’s offense,” notes Comet, “as these two men prepare to get right back into it!” Wildchild and Dante tie-up once again in the center of the ring, and the Caribbean Cruiser takes advantage, shifting to a side headlock. Dante guides him towards the edge of the ring and then launches him towards the other side, and the Bahama Bomber explodes off the ropes, knocking Crane down as he rebounds with a shoulder tackle! Wildchild runs back to the ropes and leaps over Dante as he rebounds, who immediately springs to his feet and leapfrogs the Bahama Bomber as he bounces back off the ropes. Wildchild puts on the brakes as soon as he runs underneath Dante, and turns around in time to notice the Sick Boy racing towards the ropes. Wildchild leaps into the air as he rebounds, and Dante somersaults beneath him, rolling to his feet on the other side. They both leap into the air to fell the other with a dropkick, and their feet pass each other harmlessly, like ships sailing in the clear St. Louis night. “Both men went for the same move, at the same time,” declares Comet. “And neither connect!” Outside the ring, Ejiro continues to pace restlessly back and forth, his eyes trained on Wildchild. “Ejiro hasn’t joined us at the booth today,” says Riley angrily. “You must have scared him off!” Comet scratches his chin thoughtfully. “I must admit, I expected Ejiro to come over here and pontificate about whatever his ‘master plan’ for Wildchild is, and I was hoping to get an opportunity to ask him about his loss to Judge Hearford on Storm…” “Hey!” “But it looks as though he is completely focused on the match in the ring,” continues Comet. “He’s already distracted Wildchild once, and he’s been circling the ring, staying close to Wildchild; it’s almost as if he’s stalking him!” Wildchild continues to use his speed to his advantage, beating Dante to his feet, and leaping into the air, to land on the Sick Boy’s shoulders. Dante thrusts both his arms upwards and pushes Wildchild off, but as the Bahama Bomber flips backwards to safety… WHACK! … Dante flips forward, his foot slicing through the air as he smashes Wildchild on the top of his melon with a Rolling Koppou Kick, causing the Hardcore Champion to flop backwards near the ropes! The challenger reaches his feet first, racing back towards the ropes as Wildchild begins to stand up… WHAM! … And sailing through the air like a hang-glider, rotating his lower body as he knocks Wildchild over the top rope with a Spinning Wheel Kick! The crowd comes to their feet, applauding the Sick Boy’s aerial attack, just as they did for Wildchild earlier. “Holy payback,” shrieks Comet. “Dante takes Wildchild out of the ring with a little taste of his own medicine!” Dante backs against the ropes on the opposite edge of the ring as Wildchild stands up on the outside, and bursts forward towards his adversary, leaping into the air and diving fearlessly towards the space between the ropes… BOING! … But as Wildchild ducks to avoid a Suicide Dive, the Sick Boy plants his hands on the mat and bounces his back off the ropes, handspringing backwards to safety in the middle of the ring. The fans in the Savvis Center explode into applause in commendation of the two speedster’s acrobatic one-upsmanship. FOUR! FIVE! SIX! “Nice fakeout by Dante,” says Comet. “I tell you what, Robert, this match is shaping up to be everything that I hoped it would! I only wish that more of the superstars in the SWF wrestled like this! Just think of it!” Comet gets a faraway look in his eyes. “Our ratings would be through the roof!” Riley looks at Comet incredulously. “Are you insane? Our insurance carrier would drop us like a hot potato! We wouldn’t be able to fill show dates, for all of the injuries!” “Tut, tut, Citizen Riley,” admonishes Comet. “You should stop to smell the roses once in a while.” ELEVEN! TWELVE! THIRTEEN! Wildchild slides underneath the bottom rope back into the ring, once again expression appreciation for Crane’s offense by clapping his hands in the air, getting the crowd to join him. “Listen to that,” says Comet. “This crowd is completely amped! How can you not appreciate the way these two get the fans into their matches?” Wildchild and Dante engage in a tie-up, which Wildchild shifts into an arm-wringer. He backs Dante against the ropes and whips him across the ring, but the Sick Boy reverses. Crane whips his leg around to deliver an outside crescent kick, but the Caribbean Cruiser ducks underneath and races to the opposite edge of the ring, leaping onto the top rope and curling into a ball as he springs off to deliver his patented Pinball attack… “He missed,” shouts Comet. “Dante moves out of the way!” Riley raises his eyebrows in disbelief. “That’s the first time I’ve ever seen anyone move out of the way of the Pinball!” Wildchild lands on his feet, but he is so astonished at missing the Pinball, that he doesn’t notice Dante bearing on him like a cruise missile… WHAM! … And blasting him in the face with a Spinning Wheel Kick! Dante presses his attack, pulling Wildchild to his feet and grabbing him by the wrist, whipping him towards the other side of the ring, but this time, Wildchild manages to reverse the whip attempt. The Bahama Bomber lowers his head to backdrop Dante as he bounces off the ropes, but the Sick Boy leapfrogs over the bent Wildchild with ease. Dante dashes towards the opposite side of the ring and bounces off the ropes… BAM! … But the Tropical Tumbler leaps into the air and flips backwards, extending his legs as Dante bounces off the ropes and smashing him in the face with a Backflip kick! Wildchild springs immediately back to his feet and races towards the edge of the ring, thundering off the ropes with blazing speed and leaping into the air as Dante stands up… CRASH! … Crashing into him with a cross-body block that sends them both tumbling over the top rope and out to the arena floor! “What a perilous maneuver by the Hardcore Champion,” exclaims Comet. “He put his own body on the line to send both men flying out of the ring!” Wildchild beats Dante to his feet and bends into a ready crouch, slapping his thigh to signal the crowd. “That’s the sign for the Caribbean Cutter,” says Comet. “Dante could be down for the count if he hits that out here!” Wildchild gets a running start and leaps into the air as Dante stands up, extending his leg over the back of Crane’s neck, but the Sick Boy stands up suddenly to counter the maneuver, launching Wildchild away. Dante turns his body to the side as Wildchild lands safely on his feet, and suddenly thrusts his leg out to deliver a superkick… SLAM! … But the Bahama Bomber suddenly drops to the ground and takes Crane off his feet with a sweep, then immediately leaps into the air, flipping forward as he crashes into the falling challenger with a standing Shooting Star Press! As Dante gets back to his feet, Wildchild leaps onto the ring apron and runs over towards the ringpost to get a good head start, and then rushes back across the apron, leaping off daringly as he extends his body to crash into Dante with a flying cross-body block… WHAM! … But the Sick Boy springs into the air, blasting the Hardcore Champion squarely in the chest with a front dropkick! “Beautiful dropkick by Dante Crane,” says a cheerful Comet, before pausing to take a sip of water. “Oh boy! This has been the kind of match I’ve been hoping to see since making my return to the SWF, Citizen Riley! These two have been going back and forth at a hundred miles an hour, with some of the most spectacular offense I’ve seen in quite some time!” “Judging by the looks on Ejiro’s face,” answers Riley, “he’s not impressed with this match. And, I’m not, either! Would it kill these guys to actually WRESTLE a match for a change?” SIX! SEVEN! EIGHT! “Citizen Crane is, in fact, a much more capable mat wrestler than this match would indicate,” replies Comet. “As is Wildchild. Although, I will grant you that they have allowed themselves to get caught up in the pace of this match, much to my personal delight, and the delight of the twenty-two thousand in attendance tonight!” TWELVE! THIRTEEN FOURTEEN! Dante and Wildchild reach their feet nearly simultaneously, and the Sick Boy returns to the ring first, rolling underneath the bottom rope, but as Wildchild attempts to climb onto the apron, Ejiro Fasaki creeps up behind him and grabs him by the heel, preventing him from proceeding. “Damn it,” roars Comet. “Ejiro is involving himself in this match again! That’s twice now!” FIFTEEN! Wildchild grabs onto the middle rope, trying to fight against Ejiro’s attempts to pull him the other way. SIXTEEN! “This is a travesty,” moans Comet. “Ejiro is going to cost Wildchild this match!” SEVENTEEN! Wildchild spins around and plants his free leg underneath Ejiro’s chest, kicking as hard as he can, and finally forcing the United States Champion away from him! EIGHTEEN! Wildchild turns back to scream obscenities at Ejiro, but Dante comes streaking from across the ring, diving towards Wildchild feet-first to deliver a baseball slide! NINETEEN! Just as Dante is about to kick Wildchild in the back, the Bahama Bomber steps out of the way, and dives back into the ring, just in time to beat the twenty count! Wildchild rolls to his feet and storms furiously over to Dante, getting chest-to-chest with the challenger! “Look at the look in Wildchild’s eyes,” says Comet. “I think he believes that Dante and Ejiro were in on that together!” “I don’t know about them being in cahoots,” says Riley, “but it’s about time SOMEBODY took this match seriously enough to try to win!” BAM! BAM! BAM! Before giving Dante a chance to explain himself, the Bahama Bomber blasts him in the face with a series of right hands and backs him against the ropes. Wildchild attempts to whip Dante across the ring, which the Sick Boy reverses… BAM! … But the Caribbean Cruiser explodes off the ropes, sending a flying forearm smashing into the challenger’s face! Pulling him back to his feet by the wrist, Wildchild applies an arm-wringer, and then dashes towards the corner, leaping onto the top rope before running half-way across the top rope and hopping back into the ring, landing in a seated position on Dante’s shoulders and arching back, pulling him out of the ring with a magnificent rana! “Wildchild is on fire,” squeals Comet, as Wildchild rolls from the apron back into the ring. “He’s taken total control of this match!” Wildchild leaps onto the top rope and poises himself to dive down upon Dante… CRACK! THUD! … But Ejiro slides underneath the bottom rope, armed with a chair, and darts across the ring, slamming into Wildchild’s back and knocking him over the top rope, down to the arena floor! FU-FASAKI! FU-FASAKI! FU-FASAKI! “Ejiro just attacked Wildchild from behind,” shouts Comet. “That scoundrel has gone too far!” “It looks as if Ejiro really will stop at nothing to rid Wildchild of the Hardcore Title,” says Riley. Having seen enough of Ejiro’s shenanigans, the referee snatches the chair out of Ejiro’s hands and begins pointing towards the stage. Rule’s eyes widen as he looks at the referee in shock. “I guess the ref has finally had enough,” says Comet. “It looks like he’s ordering Ejiro away from the ring!” “He can’t do that,” roars Riley. “Ejiro has a right to be at ringside! If he wants to cost Wildchild the Hardcore Title, that’s his right! The referee has no business telling him to leave!” “Well,” replies Comet, “he just did! The referee wants to see a clean finish to this match, as well as everyone in this arena not named Ejiro Fasaki!” The referee dumps the chair outside the ring, and turns his attention back to Wildchild and Dante. ONE! TWO! With the referee’s count restarted after sending Ejiro to the back, Wildchild and Dante get to their feet outside the ring. FOUR! FIVE! Wildchild grabs Dante’s wrist and twists it into an arm-wringer, but the Sick Boy reverses, pulling Wildchild towards him, and stepping behind him to apply a Full Nelson… WHAM! … And lifting him into the air, releasing his right arm and turning him with his left, driving him face-first into the arena floor with a DDT! “Damnation DDT,” croaks Comet. “Wildchild could be done!” EIGHT! NINE! TEN! Dante rolls back into the ring and waits to see if Wildchild can beat the count. TWELVE! THIRTEEN! FOURTEEN! At the count of fifteen, Wildchild manages to roll onto his stomach and slowly starts to pull himself to his feet. As he approaches the ring apron, Dante realizes that he’s going to have to hit him with something harder to put him away for good, so he slides back out of the ring, forcing the referee to restart his count. “Dante Crane’s going to have to do better than that, if he wants to win the Hardcore Championship tonight,” says Comet. Standing behind Wildchild, Dante lifts him onto his shoulders in a Burning Hammer position, and runs forward, diving towards the arena floor… CRUNCH! … And grinding Wildchild into the floor with the Kingdom Gone! “Kingdom Gone,” shouts Riley. “Could that be enough?” “Dante doesn’t seem to think so,” replies Comet, as the challenger climbs onto the ring apron and prepares to ascend to the top turnbuckle. “It looks like he’s going to put the finishing touch on this match from the top rope!” The paint having run completely from his face at this point, Dante looks briefly out to the crowd before joining his hands together as he lowers his head in prayer. “Oh my God,” shrieks Comet. “He’s going to go for The Cure on the outside!” Dante extends his arms out fully at his sides, and leaps fearlessly off the top turnbuckle to the outside to deliver The Cure… BANG! … But the quick-thinking Wildchild grabs the discarded steel chair and holds it up, causing Dante to dive headfirst right into it! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! “Holy bell-ringers,” shrieks Comet. “Dante just dove into that chair! Wildchild got a hold of the chair that the referee took away from Ejiro, and Dante crashed head-first RIGHT INTO IT!” THREE! FOUR! FIVE! “Both men are wasted out on the floor,” shouts Comet. “I’ve got to believe that it’s not going to go beyond this count! The next person to hit a big move is going to walk away from this match as the Hardcore Champion!” NINE! TEN! ELEVEN! Dante staggers to his feet, along with Wildchild, and goes behind the Hardcore Champion to apply a Full Nelson… TWELVE! THIRTEEN! … But the Bahama Bomber reverses, negotiating his way into an inverted double-underhook… FOURTEEN! FIFTEEN! … And quickly turns underneath him, lifting him into the air, so that Dante is dangling upside-down from his shoulders… SIXTEEN! SEVENTEEN! WHAM! … And drops him down head-first onto the arena floor with the Wild Ride! EIGHTEEN! NINETEEN! In desperation, Wildchild scrambles off the floor away from Dante, and dives underneath the bottom rope into the ring! TWENTY! DING! DING! DING! Twenty-two thousand people in the Savvis Center explode as “Sellout” begins to blast throughout the arena. Wildchild lies on his back sucking wind, as the referee walks over to him to raise his hand in victory. Funyon rises from his ringside seat to make the announcement official. “Here is your winner… and STIIIIILL… SWF Hardcore Champion… The WIIIIILDCHIIIIILD!” “That was a SUPERB matchup between two gifted young superstars,” says Comet. “Wildchild retains the Hardcore Title in a FANTASTIC aerial contest! Folks, don’t go away, because we’ll be right back with more great SWF action!” Back to his feet and clutching onto his title belt for dear life, Wildchild looks up the ramp, only to see that Ejiro has returned to the stage. With the United States Champion staring back at him with disdain, Wildchild climbs onto the middle rope and leans over the top rope, holding the Hardcore Title over his head triumphantly as the crowd cheers him on. As he becomes aware of the song lyrics, Wildchild begins to repeat them, clutching the Hardcore Title back towards his chest like a lifeline, as his eyes bore a whole through Fasaki. “YOU WANT TO SELL YOUR SOUL!” “YOU WANT TO TAKE CONTROL!” “YOU WANT TO PLAY THAT ROLE!” “I’LL NEVER SELL MY SOUL!” As we: FADE OUT

“Calm down, Agent Dangerous!” A voice crackled over Johnny’s laptop computer. “CALM DOWN?!” shouts Johnny, grabbing onto the sides of his hair as he nervously paced back and forth in the room. Just mere moments ago, the SWF Commissioner, the Suicide King, had given everyone the inside scoop on Johnny and his operation. Spinning back towards his computer, Johnny answers the call to his Boss in the Secret Service, Sydney Kassle. “Yeah, you tell me how I can calm down! You heard him, Sydney! He told everyone in the freaking world that I am an active Secret Agent! They never thought I was for real, in fact they probably thought I was just as delusional as CIA! God DAMN!” Johnny grabbed his pack of cigarettes, took out a cigarette, and nervously fidgeted with his lighter, trying to get it to strike. Click!Click! He lit the cigarette, and deeply inhaled as he leaned back into the cushion on the couch, trying his hardest to gain control over his emotions. “Don’t panic Barracuda,” says Sydney. “we are searching for a solution to this issue immediately! We have our finest agents working on this.” “That’s nice to know.” replied Johnny, smoke funneling from his mouth. “What I really want to know is how he got this information. I’m ruined now Sydney! How am I ever suppose to take on any more missions now that everyone knows what i really am?” “I don’t know how he got a hold of that information, it just proves there is a mole in our network. Do you have any idea who would possibly want to destroy you, Johnny?” “I haven’t the... ” Johnny stopped in mid sentence, bolting upright in his seat. Suddenly an answer had come to him. It was so obvious! How could he not have seen it before. “It’s him, Sydney. He’s figured out I’m on to him, somehow HE figured me out, and gave the information to King!” “Of course.” She replied. “Well, since he tried to destroy you, maybe it’s time to finally take him down. Yes, actually it is time. I don’t care if you have any solid proof on him, bring him down, Johnny.” “Understood.” said Johnny as he clicked a button on his laptop, and the screen instantly went blank. He rose from his seat, and cracked his knuckles. “You think your so damn smart, don’t you Dominic. We shall see who has the final word on this!” As we: fade to darkness....

Creak. Pop. Creak. Pop. Creak. “I hate that damn noise,” mutters Mark Stevens. He looks down at the brace on his left knee, pads shifting in and out as he treads backstage, his usually heroic gait a bit stumbled tonight. The occasional backstage face cringes as the Heavy Hitter strides halfheartedly by. “So much for King…” “Yo! Yo Mark!” “And that’s exactly what I needed,” he sighs. Stevens turns and leans himself up on a wall as the monolithic figure of Damien Kinney, the HVille Thugg, comes rolling down the hall in his direction. “Look, Mark, I’m glad you’re here. King’s been--” “Thugg, I don’t care what King’s been up to, all right?” “Shit, Mark, just chill…” “Thugg,” shouts Mark, throwing his hands up in desperation, “you don’t get it, do you? I’m out. I’m out of the game, okay? You can take your stock and shove it after Friday. You see this brace? You see what your damn loose cannon did to me?” “Yo, Mark, I heard, but you gotta hear me--” “You heard? Great. Just great!” Stevens starts to stumble down the hall, away from Thugg. “Not only am I beaten, bruised, and looking like crap, everybody knows, too! Thanks a lot Thugg—remind me to give you a call the next time I need a helping hand!” A thick dark mitt on Mark’s back stops him and turns him back around. “Mark, you can’t just split off like this! If we’re gonna take down King we gotta stick together. You gonna let him mess up our shit like this, throw us around…that ain’t like you, Mark.” “Yeah? Well, getting my leg smashed up by your psychotic brother ‘ain’t like me’ either, Thugg. Don’t even freakin’ start with me, Thugg. Don’t even…” “Mark, he didn’t mean nothin!” “He nearly broke my FREAKING LEG, Thugg. A bruised…posterior crucial whatever…means something, dammit!” Mark shakes Thugg’s hand off and the big black man leans his head into his hands. “Don’t get on his case, Mark! I told ya—he lives hard, alright? It’s all he knows! He won’t do it again, swear by my mama’s heart--” “I saw you when Bastion went up against Johnny Dangerous last week, Thugg. You had that glee in your eyes. Not happy come-back-to-save-the-day Thugg. Kill everything, smash everything, wreck everyone’s shit Thugg. Don’t tell me lies, Thugg. I might be limping but I’m still smarter than you--” “WHOA WHOA, NOW HOLD ON BOY! You’re bout to cross a line you don’t wanna cross, Marky Mark! We don’t need you around, you know! I came back to do this myself. I got my boy now, I got my muscle—whadda you got?” “What the hell are you gonna do, Thugg? Huh? Roll over my foot? You already banged it up enough, you can’t do any worse.” “You’re right, Mark. I can’t.” A pause hangs in the air. Thugg’s eyes are solid, and his forehead is etched with the sort of rage that tastes like spoiled pride… “But Bastion can.” And in a second, all the agility of the old Mark Stevens, 2-time SWF World Champion, swings back around, fights through the pain of his torn ligament, and wraps his hand around the throat of the chair-bound Hville Thugg. “Mark, shit, Mark, get off--” “You take it back, Thugg. You damn well better take it back. Bastion can hit me all he wants but I don’t want him getting a taste for it. I don’t like him being here and as soon as we get the Commissionership from King I’m getting him out of here and to somewhere where he can get helped. If he hurts anyone—ANYONE else—hell, why not, if he comes after me again—it’s over. We’ll run you out of town.” Thugg shoves Mark off and rolls backwards one, two, three feet on the momentum. “We? This is over whenever I want it be, Mark. I got the initiative. I got the big fuckin’ animal. I got everythin I need. Who the goddamn hell is ‘we,’ son?” “Anyone with half a brain.” “Guys! Guys!” Before things can get any worse, Thugg and Mark turn to a voice coming up behind them. Clad in clothing sweated through with the intensity of a mad dash is Ben Hardy, waving a piece of paper in his hand. “Guys, what’s up?” Mark simmers. “…Nothing, Ben. What’ve you got for me?” “It was on my desk…” Typed out in perfect 12-point Courier font is a message: “CALM DOWN. CHILL OUT. BRING THUGG TO THE RING AFTER THE DURAN/VA’AIGA MATCH. WE’RE GOING TO SETTLE THIS NOW.” “ ‘Bring Thugg to the ring’? What is this bullshit, Mark? I’m not your houseboy--” And Thugg is cut off by a repetitive, hollow chime. Once, twice, thrice. He reaches into his pocket as Mark and Ben stare on, and pulls out a pager. His eyes widen, and suddenly he spins around in his wheelchair, looking down the hall, up, all around. Mark puts a hand on the handle of Thugg’s wheelchair, stopping him in a dry spin. The angry black man is sweating bullets and looking mighty pissed. “Thugg, Jesus, calm down. What’s it say?” Thugg hands the pager to Ben, who blinks once, then looks around. He blinks again, and reads it. “After Duran and Va’aiga. I mean it.” He hands the pager back to Thugg. Mark looks down to his uneasy ally, who pockets the pager and extends a temporary handshake. “…I’ll see you in the ring, Mark.”

The roar of Lockdown's opening pyro fades away, leaving the echoing sounds of cheering across the Savvis Center in Saint Louis. The camera pans across the crowds, turning towards the figures of Bobby Riley and Cyclone Comet. Riley: "You know what Comet, I'm really glad we're here for Lockdown in Saint Louis." Comet: "Really Citizen Riley, because it's such a good and fair America town?" Riley: "No, because it means we won't be putting up with this load of hicks in the arena when it comes to the Pay Per View!" Comet: "I'd watch your back going home tonight Citizen Riley, as Cyclone Comet doesn't protect evil doers." Funyon makes his first walk of the evening into the middle of the ring, in his ever sharp suit. Funyon: "The following One on One contest will be for One Fall..." YYYYYYAAAAAAHHHHH! Funyon: "Introducing firstly, weighing in at one hundred and eight nine pounds, from Studio Three Bee, one half of Double Jeopardy and the SWF Tag Team Champions ... QUIZ!" QUIZ! COME ON DOWN! BBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Come on Down kicks into life as the Wheel Of Fortune board rolls back to show Quiz's name, as the Game Show Player steps out onto the top of the ramp. Quiz: "I'm keep this simple for you lot here in Saint Louis, this is what about Dace Night is about to get!" YOU SUCK! YOU SUCK! YOU SUCK! Quiz: "I'm sorry, I was looking for, What Is An Ass Kicking?!" Once more the Wheel Of Fortune rolls back to show the phrase in big letters on the Smarktron. Tossing the mike aside, Quiz struts down towards the ring. Handing his World Tag Team Title Belt to the Time Keeper before sliding into the ring and posing on the turnbuckles, flashing his pearly whites to the fans. Comet: "At least Citizen Quiz has good dental care. I have to honour how important it is to take care of your body like that." Riley: "Start honouring his tactics and we'll make a good commentator out of you yet Comet." Funyon: "His opponent, from Birmingham, England, weighing in at two hundred and fifty two pounds ... representing the Unholy Trinity ... DACE "HORRORCORE" NIGHT! RRRRRRRRAAAAAAHHHHHHH! Smoke billows out from the entrance way as the lights turn red and purple, flashing to the blasting beats of Justifiable Homicide. The figure of Dace Night strides down the ramp, tagging hands with the fans as he passes. Rolling into the ring under the ropes and getting to his feet, Horrorcore throws the horns to the cheering fans, as Referee Hardcastle stands in the middle of the ring. Riley: "Dace my want him some of the Tag Team Champ, but he lost that chance on the last show and now he's just going to get a further ass kicking right now from Quiz. Let's not forget, Double Jeopardy just defeated Silent, Quiz has got to be confident he can take out Dace." DING, DING, DING! Breaking into a full speed charge at the sound of the bell, Quiz bails out across the ring, dropping into a Baseball Slide and passing right through Night's legs before rolling back to his feet and leaping into the air with a Dropkick, but Dace just steps backwards and Quiz connects with nothing up air. Hitting the mat, Quiz kips up to his feet in a flash and spinning his body on one foot, lashes a Roundhouse Kick towards Dace's head. SMACK! OOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHH! Which connects with the solid arm of Horrorcore, completely blocking the blow, but Quiz moves faster than Dace can, spinning around the other way on his heel, in complete three sixty and sends the flat of his foot crashing towards Dace's head... SMACK! OOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHH! But once again in impacts on Night's solid forearm to no effect. Throwing his body forwards, the Tag Champ makes a forwards roll and springs back to his feet, hitting the ropes running and barrels back at full speed as Dace simply stands there, side stepping Quiz and giving him a shove on the way, sending him hurtling across the ring and into the ropes on the other side. Bounce back, Quiz finds himself rushing head on onto a charging Dace Night. Brining up his leg, Dace jams it hard into Quiz's midsection, stopping him dead in his tracks and doubling him over as all the air rushes from his lungs. Grabbing the Tag Champ by the back of his head, Dace launches him across the ring, striding slowly after him. As Quiz races back once again, Dace slams another knee into his midsection, stopping him dead once more. Riley: "What the hell is Dace doing? He's hardly moving, he's just dodging Quiz and slamming a knee into his gut. This isn't what the fans want to see damn it. Even I don't want to see this!" Wrapping his arm around the smaller man's head in a Front Facelock and wrenches him up into the air for a Vertical Suplex. Easily leaving Quiz hanging over head for ever increasing seconds, Night lets all the blood rush into the Canadian's head. Kicking his legs violently, Quiz tries to twist his body around to escape the Suplex, but Dace is a step ahead of his, turning with Quiz and throwing him forwards as he sits out, driving the Double Jeopardy member chest first into the mat. YYYYYAAAAHHHH! Quiz almost bounces off the match, clutching at his as Dace climbs back to his feet and drags the Tag Champ back to a standing position. Grabbing the back of his head, Dace charges across the ring with a yell, dragging Quiz with him, straight into the corner as he slams the Game Show Player head first into the top turnbuckle. SMACK! YYYYYYAAAAAAAHHHHH! Comet: "I think he's playing a waiting game against Quiz's speed, maybe looking to wear him down with little things like he is now? It'd be a style Quiz wouldn't know how to counter if he did." Turning on his heel, Dace dives across the ring towards the opposite corner. In a desperate effort to avoid a second brain scrambling impact, Quiz uses all his speed and balance to cat walk up the turnbuckles and flip backwards off the very top, Moonsaulting over Dace's head, grabbing it as he flies past and pulls the Hardcore Goth down into the mat with an Inverted DDT. BBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOO! Riley: "Now there's real skill right there, beautiful Moonsault Inverted DDT, taking Dace Night completely by surprise and dropping him to the mat. He can try to play it slow if he wants, but it just won't work against someone like Quiz." Scrambling back to his feet, Quiz hauls Dace up and shoves him back into the corner while he's still dazed. Winding up, Quiz bitchslaps Dace right across the mouth. OOOOOHHHHHHHHHHH! Following it up with a series of lefts and rights, the Game Show Player takes a step back and unleashes a Knife Edge Chop. SMACK! WWWWWOOOOOOOOO! SMACK! WWWWWWWOOOOOOOOO! Taking another step back, he leaps at Night, planting first one foot then the other in the chest as he backflips off it, driving all his body weight into Horrorcore's ribs. Easily landing back on his feet, Quiz grins as Night staggers out of the corner, clutching his body. Leaping to the turnbuckles behind him, the Canadian balances himself on the top rope, before diving through the air, extending his arm and wrapping it around the back of Dace's head as he dives to the mat, pulling the Brummie with him in a Diving Bulldog. QUIZ SUCKS! QUIZ SUCK! Riley: "Diving Bulldog from the top, takes Dace by surprises again. He's going can, I can feel it." Comet: "I think both of these men have tactics for this on, but can Citizen Quiz's really be that honourable, or will I have to put a stop to evil plans yet again?" Rolling Night over and hooking his legs, Quiz makes a cover as Hardcastle slides into place to count the fall. ......ONE! ......Kickout! YYYYYYYAAAAAAHHHHHHH! Dropping to a crouch, the Tag Champ waits, shifting his balance from foot to foot as Dace rolls back to feet, before leaping into the air and slamming both his feet into the side of Night's head with a Dropkick, sending him sprawling across the ring. Rolling under the ropes, Dace drops to the mats outside as the Tag Champ rushes after him, sliding under the ropes with a Baseball Slide, but Dace dives back into the ring to dodge the flying Game Show Player. Diving back into the ring after him, Quiz ducks a head removing Lariat, jumping onto the back of Horrorcore's shoulders. Swing his body around Night's shoulders and falling backwards, Quiz clamps on a Front Facelock as he falls. OOOOOOHHHHHHHHH! Reaching out and grabbing the ropes before him, Dace stops his fall towards the mat and blocking the DDT, but Quiz keeps his grip on the Facelock. Bounding into the air once more, Quiz braces his feet on the second rope, before springboarding off, flying out over the apron and twisting around back into the ring, spiking Dace's head into the mat with a Swinging DDT. BBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Quickly grabbing a leg, Quiz makes another cover. ......ONE! ......TWO! ..Kickout! RRRRRRAAAAAHHHHHH! Riley: "Bah, look at Dace trying to run away from Quiz, just before he knows he can't beat him. He grabs the ropes to a avoid an Shoulder Mounted Swinging DDT, but Quiz uses the ropes for a Springboard and nails the Swinging DDT anyway." Comet: "Quiz is showing honest skill right now, but the moment that changes, he will regret it deeply." As Dace lays on the mat, struggling to get back to his feet, Quiz leaps backwards from the mat bringing himself crashing down, onto where Night was just a second ago as he rolls out of the way and the Tag Team Champ hits nothing but mat. Leaping on the downed Quiz, Dace drags him to his feet in a Gut Wrench, falling backwards as he does, taking Quiz overhead with a Gut Wrench Suplex, slamming him back first into the mat. Flipping the Canadian onto his back, Horrorcore sits on top of Quiz and locks on a Sleeper Hold. YYYYYYAAAAAAHHHHHHHH! Hardcastle steps in beside the action, checking that Dace's grip on Quiz's throat isn't a Choke Hold, asking the Game Show Player if he wants to carry on or give up. Pushing his knees under himself, Dace raise up to his knees, bending Quiz's neck backwards as he raises up, adding more and more pressure onto it. Standing all the way to his feet, hauling the smaller man up with him, the Brummie Goth cranks on even more pressure. His face turning shades of red to purple, Quiz tries to battle out, thrashing his body around, but he can't escape the superior power of Dace Night. PASS OUT QUIZ! PASS OUT! PASS OUT QUIZ! PASS OUT! Hardcastle asks once more if Quiz wants to give up, but in a final effort, the Tag Champ lifts his leg and drags the back of his feel down Dace's shine. Releasing the Sleeper and clutching at his leg in pain, Night tries to keep his balance as Quiz collapses to his hands on knees, taking in huge breathes of air after nearly having it all choked out of him. BBBBBBBBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Riley: "Now there's a nice escape to a Sleeper Hold. Don't you even star Comet, because that was a perfectly fair counter move." Comet: "Yes Citizen Riley, but what about the state of the Tag Team Champion. He's been running about all through this match and now he's had his airflow blocked. Is this going to plat into Dace's hands later on?" Struggling to his feet, Quiz lashes out a quick boot to the midsection, doubling Night over, wrapping on a Facelock and drops back to the mat, spiking Dace with a DDT. Forcing himself back to his feet, Quiz braces himself on his knees, dragging in some more air as he recovers, while waiting for Dace to get back to his feet. Riley: "Smart move from Quiz, using a quick move to by himself time to recover and think. Get that game plan back together and get back on track instead on running in blindly." Rolling to his feet, shaking his head, Night glares at Quiz as he stands. Stepping back, Night backs across the ring as Quiz follows him slowly, circling around him, not throwing any speed into his movements just yet. Suddenly darting forwards, Horrorcore lunges at Quiz, but the Game Show Player throws his weight out foot first with a Superkick, but sails past Night's head, missing by inches and Dace slams on a skull splitting Elbow Smash. CRACK! YYYYAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH! ELBOWS RULE! ELBOWS RULE! ELBOW RULE! Quickly wrapping his arm around in a Front Facelock and slinging Quiz's arm over his shoulders, dragging him into the air and throwing his feet out, falls back to the mat, driving Quiz down on his neck with a Sheer Drop Brainbuster. Using the bounce from the impact, Dace rolls over with Quiz, taking him straight into a Lateral Press as Hardcastle dives in to count the fall. ......ONE! ......TWO! ......TWO AND A QUARTER! ......TWO AND A HALF! KICKOUT! BBBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Riley: "Quiz, you've got to watch those Elbows man. Duck them and take him out, he'll be helpless." Comet: "That's providing Dace gives him the change Citizen Riley." Grabbing Quiz by the arm and pulling him straight back to his feet, the Hardcore Goth ducks his shoulders into Quiz's body, standing up, dragging him into a Fireman's Carry. Making a half turn, Night releases the Tag Champ's head, throwing him over head, still holding his legs and slamming him back first into the ring canvas with a Reverse Death Valley Driver, keeping his hold on Quiz's legs and rolling backwards into a cover. YYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH! ......ONE! ......TWO! ......TWO AND A QUARTER! ......TWO AND A HALF! ......KICKOUT! BBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Springing back to his feet once more, the Unholy Trinity member hauls the Game Show Play from the mat. Looping his arms under the Canadian's shoulders, Night digs his heels into the mat and lifts the Tag Champ up vertically with the Double Underhook, using his sheer power to hold the Double Jeopardy upside down, letting the weight of his body hang down and torque on his chest. With an evil grin on his face, Dace watches Quiz struggle in the hold, showing no sign of tiring of holding up the less than two hundred pounds. Comet: "That's an interesting way of putting evil doers out of action, but can Dace hold him up there long enough to get a submission?" Shifting his grip on Quiz's arms, Dace drops to one knee sharply, driving Quiz side first into his knee with a crunch. Quickly rolling him to the mat and dropping across him, Dace makes a cover as Soapdish dives in once more to count the fall. ......ONE! ......TWO! ......TWO AND A QUARTER! .....TWO AND A HALF! ......TWO AND THREE QUARTERS! KICKOUT! BBBBBBBBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! FUCK 'EM UP DACE! FUCK FUCK! FUCK 'EM UP DACE! FUCK FUCK! Pushing himself back to his feet, Dace grabs Quiz once more and whips him off into the corner. Slapping his elbow, be motion towards Quiz as he breaks into a run. EELLLBBBOOOOWWWSSSSS! EEEELLLLLLLLBBBBOOOOOOWWWWWSSSS! Riley: "QUIZ LOOK OUT!" CRUNCH! OOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! At the very last second, Quiz throws himself clear of the path of the big brain scrambling Running Elbow Smash, leaving Dace to crash chest first into the turnbuckles. Leaping from his feet, Quiz Dropkicks Horrorcore in the back, slamming him into the turnbuckles once again. Dropping to the mat behind as he lands from the Dropkick, the Game Show Player reaches his arm between Night's legs and rolls him backwards into a School Boy, taking a handful of tights as he goes. BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Riley: "Even after the Brainbuster, Reverse DVD and Double Underhook hold, Dace couldn't keep Quiz down long enough and now he's paying for it." Comet: "But Quiz has the tights, this can't be allowed to happen!" ......ONE! ......TWO! .......TWO AND A QUARTER! .......TWO AND A HALF! ......TWO AND THREE QUARTERS! ......KICKOUT! YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Comet: "DACE KICKS OUT! Justice will still win this battle!" Rolling under the bottom rope, Quiz falls to the outside, struggling to clear his head and get his breath back after the string of high impact moves from Dace Night. Meanwhile, in the ring, Dace hauls himself back to his feet, checking he kicked out of the pin, the looking around for Quiz. Seeing the Tag Champ outside the ring, desperately trying to recover, Night shakes himself out before climbing through the ropes onto the apron, just as Quiz launches himself up wards. BBBBBBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Slamming his feet fist squarely into Night's family jewels, using Night's own body to hide it from view of Hardcastle, Quiz climbs onto the apron and leaping up, wraps his legs around Dace's head and throws himself backwards, taking Dace overhead, off the apron and onto the cold hard floor below. Riley: "MY GOD! Hurrircanrana from the apron to the floor! Even Comet isn't meant to fly like that!" RRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH! Both men lay sprawled out on the floor, clutching at their aching bodies as Hardcastle beings the count out. ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FIVE! SIX! Slowly pushing himself back to his feet, the Double Jeopardy member grabs the ring apron and hauls himself up, inch by inch. SEVEN! With one last effort, Quiz rolls himself back into the ring and away from the count. EIGHT! Stumbling back to his feet, Dace struggles towards the ring. NINE! Grabbing the ropes and using them to drag himself through, Dace just avoids being counted out. BBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! But Quiz doesn’t give him anymore room to recover, raining down a hail of stomps onto Night’s prone form. Riley: “Brilliant ring skills there from Quiz. Don’t let your opponent recover, even when he’s getting back into the ring.” Comet: “There’s no honour in such a dastardly deed as that. This must be stopped!” Riley: “Claim down Comet, we keep telling you, not any more.” Raising Dace to his feet, the Tag Champ lays in a series of stiff forearms into Horrorcore’s jaw, rocking his dazed head from side to side. Shooting Dace off, Quiz hands on and drags him back in, dropping to the mat and wrapping his feet around Dace’s legs, taking him down with a Drop Toe Hold that drops this throat first across the middle rope. Taking a few steps back the Canadian bounds forwards with a flip, rolling back first across Night’s back, forcing his throat down across the rope again, the flicking himself over the ropes and landing feet first on the apron, while sitting on the back of Dace’s head, snapping it into the middle rope for a third time. BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Coughing and spluttering as he collapses to the mat, Dace franticly tries to gasp for air as Quiz leaps onto the top rope, spinning so he faces out into the booing fans, Quiz drops to his BUTT using the force to throw himself over head and launch his body crash onto Night’s gasping body, sending air rushing out of it once again. QUIZ SUCKS! QUIZ SUCKS! QUIZ SUCKS! Forcing all his weight across Night’s shoulders, Quiz makes the cover. ……ONE! ……TWO! ……TWO AND A QUARTER! ……TWO! AND A HALF! ……TWO AND A --- BREAK! RRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAaHHHHHHHHH! Noticing Dace’s right foot hooked over the bottom rope, Hardcastle calls for the break as Quiz yells at him in fury. Riley: “Nooo! Quiz had him down after that Chuck Woolery Moonsault, but it was a careless mistake leaving Dace with a free leg when he was so close to the ropes.” Comet: “It shows the power of justice Citizen Riley.” Once more Dace tries to force himself up to his feet as Quiz rolls up to his feet and waits, balancing his weight ready to strike. Pushing off the ropes, Horrorcore finally gets back to his feet as the Game Show Player breaks into a charge, throwing himself into the air going for a Cross Body. OOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Only to get catch in the powerful arms of Dace Night, who holds him horizontal from the mat, one arm between the Tag Champ’s legs, the other arm his shoulder before diving forwards, slamming Quiz down back first into the ring with a thunderous Maori Drop. YYYYYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH! DACE F’N’ NIGHT! DACE F’N’ NIGHT! DACE F’N’ NIGHT! Once more both men are flat on their backs in the ring, gasping for air and trying to shake out the stars from their heads. Comet: “In shades of his tag team partner, Va’aiga, Dace just drilled Quiz with a ring shaking Maori Drop, but can he capitalise?” Seeing both men down and out, Hardcastle start to count them down as the crowds burst into life, trying to get them back on their feet. ONE! STOMP! STOMP! STOMP! TWO! STOMP! STOMP! STOMP! THREE! STOMP! STOMP! STOMP! FOUR! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! FIVE! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! SIX! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! SEVEN! GET THE FUCK UP! GET THE FUCK UP! EIGHT! Flopping his arm over, Dace drapes it across Quiz’s chest for a cover as Hardcastle dives down faster than an Essex Girl to count the fall and the fans yell along. RRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH! ONE! TWO! TH-NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Wriggling his shoulder up from the mat, Quiz gets his sense together and rolls a shoulder at the last second. Pressing himself up on his arms, Night slowly makes his way to his feet as Quiz rolls over on the mat and tries to force himself to his feet. Striding over slowly, Dace pulls Quiz up by his shirt, slamming a knee into his midsection as he goes, keeping the Game Show Player doubled over and forcing him into a Standing Head Scissors. Locking his arms around the Canadian’s waist, the Brummie Goth drags him all the way up and over into the air and onto his shoulders. Pausing for a split second before he drives Quiz down like a rail spike into the mat with a body crunching Powerbomb, collapsing onto of him for the cover as the fans yell out the count one more time. RRRRRRRAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH! ONE! TWO! TTTHHHHRRREEE-NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Once again, even later than before Quiz rolls a shoulder just as Hardcastle can almost feel the ring canvas under the palm of this hand. Riley: “Massive Powerbomb following the Maori Drop, but Dace still can’t put Quiz away. He’s done for, he doesn’t have anything left, all Quiz has got to do now is roll him up for the pin.” Stumbling backwards, Dace glares a red hot hole at Quiz from across the ring. Slapping his leg slowly, he waits for the small, badly dressed Canadian to get back to his feet. CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! FUCK ‘EM DACE! FUCK FUCK! FUCK ‘EM UP DACE! FUCK FUCK! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! Finally back to his feet, the Tag Team Champ looks around to see two hundred and fifty pounds on the end of a big black boot rushing across the ring towards him at high speed in the form of a face crunching Yakuza Kick. Shoving his whole body to the side in a desperate leap, Quiz can feel the boot sailing past his ear as he spins on his balanced foot and launches his whole body weight out, foot first straight into Dace Night’s jaw with a Superkick that knocks him straight off his feet and leaves him laid out on the mat. BBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Seeing Dace’s position near the corner, Quiz stumbles towards the turnbuckles, groggily grabbing the ropes and pulling himself up onto the top turnbuckle. Slowly turning the face the ring, the Tag Team Champion looks down to check Dace hasn’t rolled out of the way, before bracing himself on the top. Riley: “Quiz is about to take Potpourri for Four Fifty and it’s all over for Dace Night, thank you ladies and gentlemen, sit tight for the next match! ” With a leap, Quiz dives through the air, flipping his body head over heels, bringing it down with all the speed and force he can match, crashing it at full speed, with force the sends air out of lunges and stars flying around head, straight into the ring mat. RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH! Comet: “HE MISSES! Dace rolls out of the way! It’s not over yet Citizen Riley, the forces of good will have their last stand.” The chest first impact onto the mat sends every last bit of air rushing out of Quiz’s body, as Dace rolls back over and wraps his arm around Quiz’s head locking it in with his other arm, just as the Tag Champ is desperately trying to get any amount of air back into his body, Dace seals his wind pipe shut with his powerful arms, clamped around in a Front Facelock Choke! Quickly turning from red to purple then to almost blue, Quiz realises you can’t hold you breath if you don’t have any to start with and franticly hammers on the mat to give up and get out of the hold before he suffocates. TAP TAP TAP! DING! DING! DING! YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Funyon: “Ladies and gentlemen, here if your winner by submission … DDDDAAACCCEEE NNNIIIGGGHHTTTT!” Justifiable Homicide roars back into life over the arena once more as Hardcastle raises Dace’s arm in the air, signalling the victory. Riley: “Damn you Quiz! Missing the Four Fifty Splash then getting choked out in a Front Facelock. Brilliant. And this is only the start of the show. The rest of it better not go this way I tell you.” Comet: “I told you the forces off good would prevail Citizen Riley. Quiz spent the whole match running around, using his speed, but in the end he literally ran out of breath.” Dace rolls out of the ring and steadies himself on the ring apron as the Ref checks all almost unconscious Quiz in the ring. Fade out.

We drift slowly through the hallowed halls of the Savvis Center…trainers walking about, valets catching a smoke as there’s a lull in the parking lot. In from a pair of double doors waltzes Dante Crane, cockeyed sullen grin, gym bag over his shoulder, and eyes looking desperate. He looks over his shoulder. No Markus. With that, he turns to the valet… (Dante) – Hey, might I bum a fag? (Valet) - … (Dante) – It’s a cigarette, you ninny… (Valet) – Oh. OH! Oh, sure, sure Mr. Crane. Good luck tonight. (Dante) – Right, thanks. He shakes his head, discontented for some reason, puffing on the cancer stick with aplomb. It’s too busy back here. He just needs some quiet. And possibly a burger. Dante stops next to a man hunched over in a corner with a mop… (Dante) – Where’s the catering table at tonight? (Janitor) – Erm…it’s…down the hall. Go that way. (Dante) – Which way? (Janitor) – That way! He gestures furiously, and Dante turns, shaking his head again. Some people. Sick Boy starts his stroll, but realizes he’s already puffed through his whole cig. He turns back to the janitor… (Dante) – Have you… And he stops. Nobody there. Just a mop, discarded on the floor. Dante shrugs and stubs out the last embers on the wall. Some people…

At first there was nothing. Nothing more than darkness. Then a single trail of blue streaked across the scene, and-- BOOOOOOOOM!!! BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BADDA-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!!!! Fireworks of ever color imaginable rocket across the arena, exploding with enough force to rock the entire arena as SWF Lockdown comes blazing onto the airwaves! The crowds stand to their feet, wildly cheering, waving their signs, and dancing in the aisles to Lockdown’s theme!! “Welcome to SWF Lockdown, Citizens! We are coming at you LIVE from the Savvis Center, in St. Louis, Missouri! I am your delectable Super Heroic host CYCLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONE COMET, and we are just TWO shows away from the biggest event of the year!!!!” “... Ahem!?” “Oh, sorry,” says Comet, “Citizen Bobbie’s here too. Back to more important things at hand, tonight we have the match you all have been waiting for! The match that will decide who goes to the Genesis main event for a World Title shot against Tom Flesher, in tonight’s main event! Michael Craven versus “The Judge” William Hearford!” “Whoa, whoa, whoa, there guy!” says Bobby. “You just jumped straight over the second greatest thing since sliced bread! Did it not occur to you to mention to all those at home who MAY have missed Storm, that TOM FLESHER is once AGAIN the S! W! F! World Heavyweight Champion?!!” “Well... ” “Well nothing!” cries Bobby! “It’s about time that title went back to where it belong which is around Tom Flesher’s sexy waist! I‘ll be damned if it falls back into that pill popin’ Boston Strangler‘s over grown, and deformed hands again! Who’s he even ever freaking STRANGLED anyway?!” “Got it out of your system yet?” “... yes.” “Good,” says Comet, turning his attention back towards the camera’s. “Now as I was saying...” Suddenly the lights dim and a familiar, haunting voice echoes through the arena before Comet even has the chance to get back on track! "ALL ABOARD!!!! HA HA HA HA HA!!!" Ozzy Osbourne‘s “Crazy Train” suddenly hits with it’s all to familiar guitar riff pounding across the arena! The crowds stand in unison, booing loudly as the Suicide King brushes aside the curtains and storms out onto the stage! Normally one would expect to see the Suicide King sneering at the crowds hate towards him, almost as if he enjoyed every second of it, but tonight is different. Tonight, King walks out with a stern look on his face, walking straight down the ramp towards the ring without even stopping to go so low as to spit on somebody! In his hands he carries a red folder with some kind of emblem etched upon it. “Looks like were in for a treat, Comet!” says Riley excitedly. “We have the Suicide King out here tonight first thing! I’m just wondering how bad he’s going to make The H-Ville Thugg and Grand Spam look tonight!” “I’m not sure if I can take another second of this war between the Suicide King, H-ville Thugg, and “Grand Slam” Mark Stevens! Speaking of Mark Stevens, I wonder how he’s holding up after that brutal attack by Bastion on Storm?” King raises the microphone to his lips, brushing aside a few loose strands of hair and placing them behind his ear. “Ladies and Gentlemen.” he begins. “Tonight I have an announcement to make, or rather, a revelation to be more specific.” “A revelation?” says Bobby getting somewhat nervous. “He didn’t find out about that camera I installed in the shower room did he?” Comet’s eyeballs glance towards Bobby, then back towards the cameras. “... and no,” says King, glimpsing towards the Commentator’s Table with a raised brow. “this isn’t about the shower room camera, Bobbie. Although we WILL discuss that one later.” “... shut up, Comet.” “I didn’t even say anything, Citizen Robert!” “That doesn’t mean you weren’t going to.” “Unlike the past couple of shows,” says King, “this doesn’t pertain to the H-Ville Thugg, or “Grand Slam” Mark Stevens.” King is forced to stop momentarily as a sizable cheer rains down from the fans on the mere mention of Thugg or Stevens. “However, I am sure I’ll have something to say to the two of them before this night is over with. What I am here to discus right now is this.” says King. He holds up the red file that he brought down with him, turning to all sides of the audience for them to see. “I received this earlier today, and let me tell you... it is disturbing to say the very least!” “Comet, use your X-ray vision to see what’s inside that thing!” demands Bobby. “I’ve already tried, Citizen Robert,” says Comet, squinting hard. “but it appears to be laced with playboy inserts to divert my attention!” “Well, un-divert your attention!” “Dear Odin!” cries Comet, jerking back in his seat with a look of horror on his face. “It’s repulsive and disturbing, I can’t believe it!” “Wha, what? What is it, Comet! Is it Thugg’s prison record?” “Worse, there was a Playgirl insert in there too.” “ ... ” “ ... ” “GIMME THEM EYEBALLS!” Smack! “Back away, Fiend!” Comet smacks Bobby’s hand as he reaches for the Caped Crusader’s face. “Go play in some toxic waste yourself if you want super powered vision!” Back inside the ring, King lowers the file and draws the microphone back to his lips. “When I thought nothing else could possibly happen to make matters in the SWF worse, something always seems to pops up. Tonight it is this, and the contents of this file, which appears to be a classified document from the United States Secret Service.” King opens the file, flips through a few pages, then settles on one page. “Ah... here we go... Field Agent Assignment! Dated September the seventh of two thousand two. Agent 347, is being dispatched into the global wrestling conglomerate known as the Smartmark’s Wrestling Federation in an attempt to put a blockade an as of yet unidentified person for leading a great terror that can not be disclosed with in this document.” King snaps his head back up from his reading, tossing the file to the mat. “So basically what we are being told with this information is that SOMEBODY on our staff is an undercover agent for the Secret Service, sneaking around into all of our lives, pretending to be somebody’s friend in hopes that somebody will know something! For all of you dense people out there.... basically everyone in this arena, that would be a Secret Agent! One like... ” “I’M TOO SEXY FOR MY SHIRT!” “TOO SEXY FOR MY LOVE, LOVE, LOVE, LOVE, LOVE’S GONE AWAY!” The opening lyrics to “I’m Too Sexy” by Right Said Fred suddenly cuts through the Suicide King’s speech. In a flash, the dance driven beat to the song kicks into HIGH gear as lights of ever color of the spectrum began to strobe and pulse. “... speaking of Secret Agent’s.” says Bobby, clueless as ever. “Here comes one now!” “Gee, you don’t think King could be talking about him do you?” Johnny Dangerous stomps out from behind the curtain wearing a infuriated look on his face as the crowds celebrate his arrival with a steady chorus of boo’s! Much like the King before him, this is no time for Johnny to stop and brush the crowds off his ego, instead he storms down the ramp, quickly sliding into the ring! He walks past the King, but keeps his eyes focused on the Commissioner while reaching for a microphone. “Just what in the HELL do you think your doing, King? You better shut your damn mouth right now!” shouts Johnny, getting nose to nose with the Gamblin’ Man. “... and where in the HELL did you get that file?!” “By Hecate!” says Comet. “Johnny Dangerous is LIVID! Is the information King just told us true?” “Why don’t you tell us, Mr. Know it All Super hero!” “Let’s get one thing straight.” King replies, pushing Johnny back out of his face. “You don’t EVER come down into my ring, and try to make demands of me unless you want your @$$ kicked from the St. Louis Arch to the River Boat Casino! Until Mark Stevens defeats me, which he never will, I am the ONLY one who makes any sort of demands!” “You tell ‘em, King!” cheers Bobby. “Johnny Dangerous is just Cruise’n for a Bruise’n tonight!” Silence ensues for a fraction of time. The two stare hard towards the other waiting to see if the other has the balls to make a move. Finally King raises his microphone back to his lips. “You want to know what I’M doing? How about YOU? What in the F*CK are YOU doing here? According to this information I just read you aren’t a former Secret Agent, your an active one! Now maybe that wouldn’t be a big problem until the next part comes out that your sneaking around in MY federation, trying to uncover some sort of what? ... a plot to take over the world? I have Federal F*CKING AGENTS crawling in my federation?” “My word.” says Comet, shaking his head in pity. “I must apologize to our Citizens at home for our Commissioner's rather harsh language!” “No worse than that H-Ville Slug’s mouth that your always rootin’ an tootin’ for!” retorts Bobby. “At least King makes sense!” “I want to know one thing, Johnny.” King calmly says. “Because you see, I had finally started to like you. Finally Johnny Dangerous had gotten a clue and decided to quit showcasing to these morons, and focus on yourself and what it is that YOU need to do, to be come successful! I really don’t want to hear that this isn’t just a bunch of bullsh*t! That this whole time, you, Johnny Dangerous, have been trying to pull the wool over our eyes, while playing some game here. That you aren’t even trained to be a wrestler... well I can’t really use that because by the looks of it, neither was Mak Francis!” “Aw, come on now!” shouts Comet, as the crowds let loose with a huge jeer towards King. “Now, that ain’t right! Mak Francis showed us on Storm that he is still worthy of being the ICTV Champion!” “So tell me, Johnny.” says King. “Is this true?” Johnny remains silent, staring at King while treading through his thoughts. Finally he raises the microphone. “You don’t understand, King. There is something going on here. Something that would shock the world if they found out! I am just here to save everybody, including you. Despite how much I may or may not want to. You have already said WAY to much King, and quite frankly I don‘t know WHY you would do this to me!” “JUST ANSWER THE GO DAMNED QUESTION, JOHNNY!” demands King, obviously growing irate at Johnny beating around the bush. “I want to know if this crap is true? Are you really an active Secret Agent? Are you spying on the SWF, MY federation?” “...” “... Yes.” he finally replies. The crowds for the first time in a while let out a cheer for Johnny Dangerous. Probably due to shock more than anything. “BAH GAWD!” screeches Bobby! “Johnny Dangerous is a SECRET AGENT! Who would have ever thunk it?” “Well, he has been running around spying on people and saying he was a Secret Agent. I don’t find it all that shocking myself. Plus I knew it two seconds before he answered. Super powered foresight, you know.” “... Oh, shut up.” “Well,” says King. “that’s what I thought.” WHAM!!! Quicker than the blink of an eye, King slides a small black bat out from his sleeve, and blindsides Johnny in the side of the head with it! Johnny goes down like Monica on Bill, crumpling to the mat while holding dearly to his throbbing head! “Whoa! King just assaulted Johnny Dangerous with that bat, that’s not the way to treat your loyal subjects! Where‘s the team spirit, even if it is a villain team spirit!?” “That’s no bat, Comet!” says Bobby, quite matter of factly. “That’s the Ace of Clubs! I haven’t seen that used in a few!” “That’s what happens when you try and SCREW with the Suicide King, Johnny Dangerous!” King straddles over Johnny, leaning down into his face and shouting. “You thought you pulled one over us, you thought you had everyone fooled, didn’t you? I should have know this was never about some T-shirt sales! This is my federation, I am the law here, and NOBODY is going to pull some crap like this in here! So why don’t you tell us who your after Johnny? Is it me? Did I forget to pay my taxes 10 years ago or something, hun? Who is it?!” “You don‘t want to get involved with this, King.” mutters Johnny, in between spitting blood from his mouth. “Don’t worry it isn’t you, you fu*king prick!” “Good.” says King, bolting up and feeling relieved. “Well, I hope you understand than Mr. Dangerous. I had to tell the truth about you in order to preserve the integrity of this federation. I have much to loose here, and we can’t have it falling into the wrong hands!“ “What a jerk!” shouts Comet. “King just ruined Johnny’s secret mission, for no good reason other than to make himself look better!” “Pfft... Johnny was trying to overturn the card table in the Suicide King’s casino! He’s lucky I didn’t get to him!” says Bobby, whirling his fist. Oh, tell me Johnny...” says King, spinning back around towards Johnny. “is it true that IF you are discovered you are disavowed? Wouldn’t that suck. Oh, well. Don’t try and pull another stunt on me ever again Johnny. The next time it’ll be far worse. Now get out of my arena!” Crazy Train hits again as King flicks his microphone behind him, then makes exit of the ring, leaving Johnny lying in the ring. “What a shocking announcement!” says Comet. “Johnny Dangerous is after someone for committing crimes against the Citizens of this nation! I’d have to say that I just might like him for that fact alone.” “Really?” “Nah... Probably not. Nothing is better than me fighting crime! However, it would appear that King has just fired Johnny Dangerous after discovering his true motives!” “He isn’t fired, Comet. King told him to leave, and you know how that usually works out.” At any rate, a shocking discovery and THIS was just the opening of the show! What more could possibly happen tonight!” “Stay tuned and find out!” Bobby chimes in with a cheesy smile as commercials soon overtake the channel.

Promo - "Grand Slam" Mark Stevens GSMS: So Doc, what's the word? The Heavy Hitter sits on the edge of an examination table. He is wearing a classic "Midnight Carnival" shirt and a pair of jean shorts that reveal his swollen and bruised left knee. An older man in a white coat is just sitting down on a stool in front of him. He has a folder in his hand and is reading something through a small pair of reading glasses perched on his nose. Doc: Well Mark, it looks like you have a partial tear of the posterior cruciate ligament in your left knee. GSMS: Damn. What am I looking at? Am I going under the knife? Doc: I don't think it's needed at this time. (He starts to scribble on a pad) I'm going to give you some Naproxen to help with the swelling. Take some Advil as needed to handle the pain. I'll get you a sheet of knee exercises to help with it. Your knee brace is going to be an all-the-time-thing now. But with you this is a chronic condition, so we need to take it slow. We need to rest this knee for at least three weeks, possibly longer. GSMS: That's a problem Doc. I have a match on the 28th. Doc: Not anymore you don't. GSMS: Well, you said it wasn't that serious, I'll just... Doc: Mark, you're going to be able to walk for the next three or four weeks with the assistance of a cane. You might be able to run, but as your doctor I'm advising against it. Anything more strenuous than that and you are risking a full tear, and that can only be fixed by surgery and a four to six month recovery. I can't in good conscience, medically clear you to wrestle in a week and a half. GSMS: Crap... well, it looks like the whole thing is going down the tubes anyway with the way my "partner" is acting. I guess this puts the nail in the coffin, so to speak. Doc: I'm sorry Mark. GSMS: Yeah Doc, me too. Doc (standing up): Wait here and I'll get your paperwork. GSMS: Thanks. The doctor leaves and Mark sits sullenly for a second. Then picking up a small glass container of tongue depressors, he angrily throws them across the room and smashes it against the wall! GSMS: Damn Bastion... it's always something to keep me from taking care of King. It's always something...

What if I asked really really nicely and brought a doctor's note? No? Dang.

I wanted to be clear on the extent of the injury, i.e. what I can and cannot do, as it might become important later. Besides, I thought that bit of exposition might bog down an actual show, so it would be best as a board promo, albeit a short one by my standards. As I write the character, he knows there is a time and a place to be angry. And it isn't in the doctor's office. I actually debated throwing the glass jar as being a little out of character. Grand Slam is very mellow out of the ring, but intense inside. I guess the best way to look at it is that he has a real passion for the business and knows how to control his emotions. Thanks for the comments... keep 'em coming.

I was at KOTR 02 and I have to say, his match with RVD was the best match on the card. It didn't deserve the critical drubbing it got here and elsewhere on the IWC. Thus, I agreed with his decision to stop updating his website. But it is nice to see him back.

I was at a Smackdown taping (I think. Remember the "Smackdown Xtreme" show UPN did to promote the XFL?). In the ring is Austin (during his heel run), Triple H, Stephanie and Earl Hebner. Match is over and the faces have quit the area of the ring. Dumbass fan tries to slide in the ring under the bottom rope. Well, Trips and Hebner just stomped him to death. It was friggin' brutal to say the least. Austin added in a kick or two, but Hebner did the most damage. As a friend of mine said at the time, "Dude, you jump the barrier and you are fair game."

--- my bad --- I asked a question that was answered above. Sorry.

My short list? One-on-one rematch with Chris Wilson, since I never did get my rematch when i dropped the World Title to him. A one-on-one with Chris Raynor. Triple threat match: The Fallen v. Y2Chris v. Midnight Carnival (Grand Slam & Edwin) Newer Guys - Tom Flesher - duh... Danny Williams - I get the feeling that he and I could put on one hell of a match as we wrestle, if not similar, then compatible styles. Justice & Rule v. Grand Slam & Mistress Sarah

We've been through this before actually. Mostly, it is the Hardcore-Gamers Title because... well because that's what Rane / Jayson / whoever names it at the inception of the Fed. As a man who likes a little tradition in wrestling, I want to keep the name. "Hardcore Championship" is so generic, I like the idea that ours has a little different name.

::sniffle:: That was beautiful man... *Has image of all the SWF/JL superstars represtened by creepy little abstract dolls bobbing up and down to this song*

Yes. Not to sound like a lawyer here, but the issue isn't with file-sharing programs themselves, although it is a big part of it, it is with copyrighted material being shared across those systems. So yes, if you have downloaded or shared any copyrighted songs (anything that isn't public domain) across any filesharing system, you have the potential to be sued for it, because you have broken the law as it is written now. Mind you, I'm not saying this is right, I'm just saying what the law says...

If you are interested in a mock-up of the T-Shirt, follow this link and look at the top of the page. My Images Webpage. Again, look at the top. This is just a prototype shirt and it will come in any color I can get at my t-shirt supply place (most colors). The logo and lettering aren't just silkscreened or ironed on, it is custom embroidered. And, for an extra $5.00, you can get your name (either IRL or your wrestler's name, one or two words only I think) embroidered on the shirt, making it one of a kind. This can only happen if I have enough people interested to spread the start-up cost around a little. All proceeds will be set aside for SWF purposes like advertising, maintainance of the website, hosting, etc. Please vote soon. Thanks, Grand Slam

Honestly, I am hoping to keep the cost as close to $20 as I can and still have a buck or two left over for the Fed.

What is 20 - 30 dollars Australian convert to in American Dollars? And yes, you can get a XXL. Not as many colors, but still quite a few.

He appears in a human seeming form only before the ring is cut from his finger. In the books, his body was destroyed then as I remember. No... wait... his body was destroyed before that when he talked the Numenorians into attacking the Valar and they sank Numenor...

I hate to say this as it makes me feel a little ghoulish, but wouldn't Warren Zevon count and make this "three" complete?

If this is true, this would suck huge. Its bad enough I can barely afford to take my wife to a concert and have halfway decent seats now. If they do this, then I'm just done. They will have priced themselves right out of my discretionary income bracket.

I remember listening to a copy of Bruce Springsteen's album "The Ghost of Tom Joad" and wondering what had happened to him. It was just uninspired folksy melancholy... nothing... The only Bruce Album since "The River" I didn't buy. Thank God for "The Rising".

My grandparents listened to country music, so I grew up listening to it. I always liked Johnny Cash. I knew he was ailing, and when I heard that his wife had died, I knew he would be gone before too long. I was so rooting for him to be at the MTV awards. That would have been a nice last memory of him. very sad...