Kaertos

Inside the Justice and Rule locker room, Wildchild is seated in a folding chair as Ejiro Fasaki paces back and forth in front of him, his face contorted by an indignant expression. "You're still not getting it, Wildchild," he says. "This is a fairly simple concept: you work for me, which means that you have a responsibility to do what I tell you, and assist me when and if necessary!" "Screw you, Fasaki," Wildchild says as he rises slowly out of his seat. "Dis isn' what I agreed to. An' even if it was, you didn' tell me to get involved n'your match against Danny, anyway." Ejiro shakes his head in disappointment. "I see that my efforts to impart my dynamic leadership skills upon have been wasted! You need to learn to take initiative in situations like those! Do you mean to say that you would have stood idly by and let Danny Williams pound me into a pulp?" The Bahama Bomber's mouth stretches into a small grin as he shrugs his shoulders. "I never would have thought you'd need help in proving that you were better than him..." Ejiro stops his pacing in mid-stride, nearly stumbling over his own feet. "I don't like your tone," he says, walking over towards Wildchild and getting right in his face. "I don't have to tolerate your lip, Wildchild! We had a deal; I won, you lost! Get over it! Whether you like it or not, I own you, and I DEMAND resp-URK!" SLAM! Ejiro finds his sentence suddenly interrupted by a furious Wildchild, who grabs him by the throat with both hands and pushes him backwards, slamming him into the wall! "Now you listen to ME, you slimy little worm," he roars. "I've had t'put up with your wearin' dis stupid jersey, wearin' dese shoes, gettin' your lunch, shinin' your boots, an' all dat other garbage you put me through. But I'm NOT goin' t'help you cheat! If you can't win a match on your own, you got nut'tin t'blame but your own talent!" Ejiro, after recovering from the shock of Wildchild's attempt to choke him, raises his arms and pushes the Bahama Bomber away in an act of mock confidence. "Listen junior, you're in no position whatsoever to speak to me on the subject of talent in the ring; I've forgotten more about how to wrestle than you'll ever LEARN! And, need I remind you that the Suicide King holds your contract in his hands, and is pretty much looking for any excuse to fire someone right about now? Do you really want me to have to tell King about how your failure to honor the terms of our agreement? In his current emotional state, he might interpret that as a breach of contract, and kick you out onto the street!" Wildchild's eyes burn with a dark fury, as he stares a hole through his arch-nemesis, but finally relents, lowering his head in defeat. Ejiro's lips curl into a sneer. "That's what I thought. Now, I've got to win this match tonight to stay in the tournament. I shall expect you to take initiative, should the opportunity arise again!" And, without waiting for a response, Ejiro spins around on his heel and storms out of the locker room, slamming the door behind him. The camera man focuses in on Wildchild as he lifts his head up. "You wan' initiative, Fasaki? I'll show you some initiative..." As we: FADE OUT

Francis v. Sacred v. Show. Triple Fucking No-Show. Thank you for your interest in the tourney.

In a dimly lit hallway in the backstage of the arena, the Hville Thugg sat alone, carefully sorting through his thoughts just shortly after dismissing his Mini-Armada. Most of the workers were up front watching the show on monitors or living it up in their locker rooms, leaving the hallways bare for Thugg to roll through. He had been in this arena before, and just being here was enough to jolt some not so distant memories. The last time he was here though, he wasn’t confined to a wheelchair, nor would he have ever imagined that he would. Hville Thugg. The Unstoppable Wrecking Machine. Nobody would have ever imagined that it would turn out like this. “But it did.” He told himself as he brushed his hand against his legs. “They just don’t work like they used to, eh?” a voice cut through the silence, startling Thugg from his trip down memory lane. “Wha?” Thugg replied, looking towards the origination of the voice. “Yo…who dat?” “I’m surprised you would even be interested.” the voice responded, this time giving away his location with the glowing cherry of his cigarette. He took another drag, then exhaled. The smoke swirled around his face, but through the cloud he could see Thugg studying his figure, trying to figure out who he was. He took one last drag of his cigarette, then flicked it to the floor as he stepped out from the dark corridor. “Hello, Thugg.” He greeted in between puff‘s of smoke escaping from his lungs. Upon stepping into the light Thugg easily recognized him. A man who had recently taken to the dark side, Johnny Dangerous. “What’s this pussy ass mutha fucka what?” He thought to himself. “Yo, Mutha F*cka!” Thugg responded. “I don’t know who the f*ck you think you are, but I’d suggest you quit trying to be all scary like! I don’t play all this mystery fool hiding in the shadows sh*t! You could give someone a mutha f*cking heart attack, stupid ass ni...!” “Now, Thugg.” Johnny responded with a bright smile. “I didn’t mean to alarm you, you must accept my apologies. Besides the last thing we need is another ‘legend’ having a heart attack around here.” “What the hell do you want?” “I’m just here to pay my due respects, Thugg.” said Johnny. “After all, it’s not every day that I get to see one of the legends of the SWF. I mean, I’ve heard all of the stories, and I’ve seen a lot of your tapes, but nothing, and I mean nothing is as exhilarating as seeing you here in person.” “Oh,” replied Thugg, feeling somewhat ‘crunchy’ for jumping the gun so soon. “Hey, Yo, Johnny. I’m sorry about that. You just kinda scared me there for a second. I wasn’t sure if you were coming as friend or one of them punk ass lapdogs King likes to keep around. Especially with all that hostility you been showing towards Wildchild. You should be trying to help him instead of trying to put him down. I thought he was your boy? ” Johnny stared down towards Thugg still bearing his grand smile. “Things change sometimes, Thugg. I mean, you for one should know all about that.” “What you mean?” “Well take this for an example, if you will.” said Johnny as he begun to slowly walk around Thugg. “You used to be a World Champion. One that held records for title reigns in the SWF as well as the JL. The Hville Thugg! The man who would wreck your shit if you looked at him cross eyed!” Thugg nods in agreement. Fondly remembering the days of yesterday as Johnny continues. “But now, Thugg.” “Yeah?” “I’m afraid the only shit you’ll be wrecking is when you take on Stephen Hawkings at the Special Olympic Wheelchair Demolition Derby, that’ll be a doozy for sure!” “What the fu... “ Thugg could hardly believe it. His brows suddenly angled themselves in a ‘V” shape as he clenched the edges of his chair. “Yo, bitch! You think your funny don’t ya.” “No, see, actually... what I thought was Funny was Storm. You know, when King basically wrecked your shit. Like I said, I watched your tapes, just not the ones you would like everyone to be watching. Then rewinding. Then watching again. I mean come on, who the hell cares about a washed up has been? Your record for World Title reign has already been broken twice over. You don’t expect me to actually waste my womanizing time watching your crippled ass make an ass out of yourself, do you?” “Yo…for real cuz…I know you feelin’ all big and shit right now cause I’m in this chair. But I suggest you take some of that base out yo voice fo’ I gotta…” “Before you what?” snapped Johnny, cutting Thugg off in mid-sentence. “Fall flat on your ass like you did on Storm?” Before the Thugg from Hville could even respond, Johnny whipped around behind him and grabbed onto the handlebars on his wheelchair with a sudden jerk. “Let’s take a ride!” .................. A skip, hop, a jump. and two corridors down, the Suicide King was preparing to make his routine patrol of the backstage, just so everybody would know that he was in fact in control. He stepped out from his office armed with a clipboard and pink slips, gently closing the door behind him. “I SWEAR TO GOD BITCH…” “BEEP! BEEP! WATCH OUT!” shouted Johnny as he tore down the hallway with Thugg in his chair. Thugg tried to stop the chair by grabbing onto the wheels, but only burned his hands on the rubber for the effort. King quickly put his back to the wall, leaving a wide opening for Johnny to speed through as he casually snickered at the sight. “Good to see Thugg getting some exercise,” King said as they the derby passed him by. “Tell me what you know about Wildchild!” Johnny commanded, making a sharp turn of the corner. “You seem to watch him pretty close, I want to know what you know!” “I already told you bitch; I don’t know what the f*ck you talking about!” responded Thugg, holding on as he might for dear life. “Can’t a nigga just make idle converstation you little ass fucker. “Fine! Then you better tell all of your friends to watch out for me! I’m going to take down everyone who has a part in this, even you if I have to! Oops, looks like it’s the end of the line, Thugg.” “Don’t you f*cking dare, you little... ” With one final shove, Johnny released his grip from the chair and made a hard right down the hall as he sent Thugg sailing forward... KA-RASHHH!!! ... into a stand containing metal poles and several unopened bags of some substance. When Thugg’s chair hit the stand, it tipped over, sending Thugg tumbling to the floor. “That mutha...” growled Thugg. He began to push himself up from the floor when he felt someone grab him around the arm. He looked up - still gritting his teeth - into the eyes of the Wildchild. “Are you okay?” the Bahama Bomber asked, his concern overbearing. “When the hell are you ever going to learn, Dominic?” said a third person, Ejiro Fasaki, in between snickers. “Let the fat bastard lie on the floor, he can’t cause any problems down there.” Ignoring the ever present Ejiro, Thugg simply looked back at Wildchild and said: “Yo…your friend done lost his mutha fuckin’ mind.” “Johnny...” Wildchild said, knowing exactly who Thugg spoke of. “Oh, for the love of God.” griped Ejiro, growing sick and tired of hearing that name day in and day out. “Somebody, anybody, get me a brick.” “He’s gonna get his shit split fo’ this…you best believe that shit,” Thugg came back, seemingly both his pride and his head a little shaken. “Oh, we’re all so very scared Thuggikans,” replied Ejiro, despite the fact that the statement was not directed at him. “Let’s go Wildchild…and try not to roll over anyone’s toes tonight Thugg.” Wildchild helped Thugg all way up just before he was grabbed by the arm and dragged away by Ejiro. “Later Thugg,” Wildchild called back as he passed, kind of giving him a nod that Johnny would indeed get his comeuppance. As the departed, Thugg turns his wheelchair right-side-up before finally plopping down in it as if his legs were ready to give way at any moment. “Stupid fuckin’ kids.”

We come back to the packed Pershing Center in Lincoln, Nebraska, greeted by cheers as SWF Lockdown goes back on the air! The camera gives a long pan of the crowd, with a few ‘Grand Slam’ supporters with signs like “Outta Here? No way. Just rounding the bases…” and “We’ll Always Aim for the Fences!”. Unfortunately these aren’t up for long as a few security guards are visible coming in from behind to confiscate them. We zoom down to Comet and Riley, who gives a sigh as he looks at his monitor. “Is something the matter, Citizen Riley?” “… Huh?” He says before snapping back to reality, “Oh, just tired of having to sit next to a freak like you. What’s the next match?” “Well, curt cohort, next up is a battle between a Dark Angel of JUSTICE~! and In-JUSTICE~! himself: Nathaniel Kibagami and The Judge! This no-good felon will be in serious trouble tonight against someone who is turning into a crime-fighting menace!” “More like a menace in general!” says Bobbie indignantly, “Kibagami has busted out the Demonstar Driver in almost every match of this tournament. Hopefully the Judge will be able to take him down before he can hurt anyone else, damn it.” *DING DING DING* The ring bell is hit thrice as the crowd pops for the suit-clad Funyon to enter the ring. The popular ring announcer straightens out his suit jacket before bringing up his commanding voice through the sound system of the Nebraskan arena. “The following is a singles match in the GENESIS WORLD TITLE TOURNAMENT! The loser will be out of the tourney while the winner goes on to the next round! Entering first…” The intro to “Testify” by Rage Against the Machine plays as the arena begins to turn a deep red. The beat intensifies, getting louder and louder as it goes on until the crescendo reaches a peak and- “NOW TESTIFY!” Three sets of red pyro light off onstage as the Judge steps out, a dead serious look on his face. As the SmarkTron replays some of his greatest moments the old veteran looks straight ahead, his eyes totally fixated on the ring: Tonight is going to be one long haul. “Now entering the ring, weighing in at 242 pounds and hailing from Royal Oak, Michigan, he is a former Tag Team and Hardcore Gamer’s CHAMPION! He is THE JUDGE, WILLIAM HEAAAAAAAAARFOOOOOOORD!” “Hearford has his mind focused on the ring,” says Bobbie with some pride, “That means Kibs is in big trouble. If the Judge is really focused he’s going to run circles around that cripple.” “Or maybe his guilty conscience is telling him that his own Judge-ment is at hand. Even I have to admit that facing a monster like Nathaniel is indeed a frightening prospect.” The old veteran ignores the crowd completely as he goes over to his side of the ring, stretching out his legs with the assistance of the turnbuckle. He repeats his game plan inaudibly over and over again; knowing that’s probably the only way he’s going to be able beat the man coming out next. “And entering second…” The entrance ramp begins to fill up with fog, rolling while the lights go down and a picture of Nathaniel Kibagami sitting on a wooden chair appears on the SmarkTron. His back to the crowd, the gentle guitar chords paint a picture far different that that we know of the person formerly named “The Slaughterer”… *BAM* Every light in the arena flicks on at once, creating a blinding flash that leaves everyone in the arena blinking and struggling to see. On the SmarkTron, the serene picture of Nathaniel is gone, replaced by a Ankh burning fiercely on the massive screen. The music, along with everything else, has change to a more foreboding tone as the Silent One appears on the ramp while the lights go back to their normal setting. “Now entering the ring, weighing in at 268 pounds and hailing from Phoenix, Arizona, he is one, if not the most, feared man in the SWF. He is THE SILENT ONE, NATHAN KIBAGAMIIIIIIII!” The man walks down the ramp, cold as winter while he ignores the fans around him. The crowd cheers, thinking him as more of a badass rather than the ruthless being he really is. Sliding into the ring, he calmly steps over to the nearest turnbuckle and stretches out his arms like a crucifix before stepping back and looking across the ring at his opponent. By now the Judge is done with his prep work and is watching the Slaughterer like a hawk. Matty Kivell looks at both men, and seeing them both prepared he points to the timekeeper for the bell! *DING DING DING* The match is on, and the two opponents step out of their corners and slowly begin to approach each other. Keeping just out of reach of Kibagami’s fearsome kicks, Hearford watches the veteran looking for an opening or a weakness. Meanwhile, Silent keeps stepping forwards, trying to back Hearford up into a tight spot and open him up for a kick. But Justice just can’t seem to stay corralled as he makes sure to avoid getting trapped in a corner. “You know, this reminds me much of a Mongoose fight I saw in Thailand,” says Comet quietly, “Where the noble rodent was put in a cage with a Cobra and forced to fight it out.” “Isn’t that, like against your code or something?” “Yes, allowing animals to fight to the death is something a superhero cannot allow, which is why I immediately grabbed the Mongoose out of the cage. Unfortunately the Cobra bit me before I could get out of the way, and I would prefer not to discuss the hallucinations that occurred afterwards.” The crowd waits tentatively for the opening strike, and they are finally rewarded as the Judge dashes in, going for a lock-up! Kibagami plays Riki-Tiki-Tavi well, though, and he’s able to get off a sharp kick to the side of Hearford. The Judge grimaces as he takes a step to the side, but he throws off the pain and quickly backs out of the path of another sharp kick. The old man shakes his head, throwing off the minor failure before going back to his normal form. He feints in again, trying to draw a kick out of Silent, but the Slaughterer holds back like a disciplined warrior. They circle again for a moment, the Judge waiting for a chance to get around the shoot-style kicks while Silent waits for a chance to unleash them. “Obviously the criminal is fearful of Citizen’s Silent’s kicking power.” “Well, you’d have to be dense not to,” says Riley in a ‘No duh’ fashion, “The Judge is just playing it smart. If he can get around those kicks, this match is his.” Again, Hearford dashes in, and Silent lets off a high roundhouse kick, expecting the old man to go for a grapple, but the Judge goes low instead! Ducks under and gets both hands right around the leg still on the ground, yanking the Slaughterer right onto his back. He quickly tries to flip Kibagami over for a Half Crab, but Nathan isn’t about to let him do it. He brings around his other foot and nails the Judge right in the jaw, knocking the old man back and allowing himself some room to kip up to his feet. Justice holds his jaw for a moment, but he immediately goes on the defensive as Kibagami goes on the attack. He nails Justice in the chest with his palm once, twice, and thrice to send the old man stumbling. Sensing the opportunity for a quick knockout blow, he lines himself up and delivers a thrust kick! … That the Judge ducks and wraps his arms around! The old man quickly sweeps out his other leg, putting him on his back and allowing him to flip him into a Half Crab! “The Judge is putting his dastardly plot into action, attacking the legs of Kibagami!” “That’s a smart move,” says Riley, a bit more level-headed, “You take out Kibagami’s legs and there goes half his offense and most of his defense as well, which will let ya get at his weak neck a bit easier than it normally would be.” The Judge torques the leg back as hard as he can, though Kibagami’s face doesn’t give much of a hint of pain. Instead, his visage seems to be filled with focus and will, and almost instantly he begins pulling himself towards the ropes. It’s not all too easy as the Judge is still strong himself and is able to delay the Silent One, trying to get the most out of the hold before Silent finally reaches the ropes for a break. Hearford releases almost instantly, wanting to be on guard when Nathan gets back up. “Kibagami doesn’t seem to be in much pain after that half crab,” says Comet as the Silent One gets up to his feet, “One has to be amazed at the mental fortitude of the man to be able to withstand such a submission without even flinching. Thankfully he’s on the side of JUSTICE~!” “I wouldn’t be too sure of that, Comet. Just wait until he Demonstar’s some babyface like Mak Francis. I’ll bet you wont’ be sayin’ it was for JUSTICE~! then…” The two begin looking for an opening like at the beginning of the match, but this time Silent is the one to move first, actually going in for a lock-up. The Judge doesn’t expect it, and Kibagami quickly gains an early advantage. He begins pushing Justice backwards, and spins around for a headlock, but the Judge tucks his head and Kibagami’s arm slides right over top of him. Cinching a waistlock, the old man tries to go for a German, but Silent reacts quick and breaks the waistlock, grabbing on of the Judge’s arms and bringing it over his shoulder for an Ippon Seionage! The Judge lands right on his back and Kibagami immediately starts to wrap his legs around Hearford’s arm and head… “Triangle Choke! Triangle Choke! It looks like Kibagami is going to beat the Judge at his own specialty!” cries Comet. “Blocked! HA!” is Bobbie’s answer as the Judge manages to locks his hands together and roll onto his side. The crowd, who has generally been quiet throughout the match waiting for something exciting to happen, comes to life as a potentially match-ending submission is almost put on. But as Riley called, the Judge has rolled onto his side and locked his arms to prevent the choking effects of the hold from taking effect. “See that? That’s called ring experience and instinct,” says Riley with obvious admiration, “The Judge is preventing Silent from pressing his shoulder and arm up against his neck and the artery that’s there as well.” “Yes, but Kibagami still has control at the moment, and don’t you think for a second that he’ll be giving up anytime soon.” Indeed, Kibagami pulls hard on the Judge’s hands, but they are firmly locked in. Seeing the hold to be no longer advantageous, the Silent One releases his scissors around the Judge, giving him a nice boot to the face before letting go of his arm. The crowd backs down a little, but not too much as Kibagami keeps control of the match, pulling the Judge up into a sharp knee to the gut. The Judge doubles over a little, and Silent locks in a front headlock. He leans back while maintaining the headlock, and lifts the Judge over the top, for a Front Chancre Suplex! “A Downshifter Suplex, and Citizen Silent is weakening that neck of the Judge. Perhaps he’s trying to set up the Demonstar?” “Like that needs any set up. He’s probably trying to wear down the Judge a bit more after his Triangle Hold was shut down miserably.” Hearford holds his neck after landing, and Kibagami kips back up to his feet, sparking a small pop from the crowd. The Slaughterer lifts up the old man to his feet, giving him a sharp elbow to the head that staggers him back a few feet. He lines himself off and fires off a hard kick, then unleashes another on the stunned old man. The crowd cheers as Justice spins around from the force of one of the kicks, allowing Kibagami to hook one of the Judge’s legs from behind. But the Judge knows what’s coming up, and he locks on a ¾ Headlock as he breaks the cradle and runs forwards… *CRACK* “Surprise Witness! Called at just the right time, too!” says Riley with glee as Silent lies on the canvas unmoving while the Judge lies down as well, a bit tired from the beating he took in the last few moments. The Judge takes in a few deep breathes as he begins to get off the mat, boos reigning down on him as he catches a small rest. He doesn’t acknowledge them much as he keeps his eyes fixated on Kibagami, and he begins to get back up to his feet… … and so does Kibagami. To an amazing pop the man formerly known as the Slaughterer begins to push off the ground only moments after being nailed with the finisher of Justice! “It looks like that neck has got some adamantium bonded to it!” says Cyclone Comet with a smile and a chuckle as Riley still can’t believe it. “B-B-But he had a fricken broken neck!! How can he be getting up after taking a Diamond Cutter?!” The Judge, slightly taken aback by this, quickly moves towards his legs. Kibagami tries to kick him off, but Hearford holds on for dear life as he steps his legs through Silent’s and falls backwards in Cross Examination! “Good idea! Good idea!” says Bobbie, trying to regroup, “Stick with the plan and you’ll be okay.” The Judge pulls, rolls, and torques the legs of Kibagami any which way he can, trying to inflict pain against the monster he’s up against. But Silent’s shows only a slight grimace as he weathers the pain, and he slowly begins dragging himself towards the ropes. The crowd goes absolutely wild as he gets closer and closer, only a gritting of teeth a hint at the pain he’s in. He crawls closer and closer as the Judge tries harder and harder… … but he gets to the ropes! The crowd gives a cheer as the ref asks the Judge to break the hold, and he quickly does, scrambling back up to his feet. Kibagami isn’t far behind, though. The Judge looks a little flustered; it’s a bit obvious he didn’t expect something like THIS, but his familiar stony look returns to him as he goes over and kicks the Silent One in the gut. The crowd boos as the Judge continues as Silent briefly crumples to the ground, still targeting the legs of the Slaughterer. “The Judge is hanging on that body part like a pitbull,” says Riley, some hope in his voice, “If he keeps it up, I don’t care how tough Silent is he WILL feel it!” Hearford goes down and grabs at the leg, probably going for a submission, but Silent is able to kick him away. The Slaughterer gets up to a small but visible limp after being stuck one of Justice’s most potent submissions, but it doesn’t look as though it affects him much. The old veteran backs off as Silent begins to step towards him again, but he goes down for a tackle he runs right into a straight kick from Kibagami. The Judge reels backwards, and Kibagami follows up on it with a pair of sharp side kicks. Hearford holds his side while Silent follows up, grabbing a facelock while jumping into the air! The Judge is nailed to the mat right on his head while Silent gets back up. “Judo DDT! His martial arts skills are almost as formidable as mine.” “Yes, we all saw those so well represented in the Comet’s Tale III… Oh wait, no we didn’t because NO ONE WENT TO IT!” “… Aren’t we a little bitter that we didn’t get a movie role.” The Judge is left on the mat holding his head as Silent kips back up to his feet, the crowd getting behind the man formerly known as the Slaughterer. He goes over and grabs Justice’s arm and falls back, trying to wrap his legs around the head and arm of Hearford again for a Triangle Choke! The Judge isn’t able to lock his hands, so instead he begins to flop around, trying move around towards the ropes. He is able to shift himself around to get a foot onto the ropes before Silent can lock his legs around him, and the crowd boos at the escape of the heel. Silent gets back up to his feet again, not showing any frustration as the Judge is able to escape his chosen submission again. He pulls the old man up and begins hammering him with his kicks. One, two, three, four, five, the old man only barely on his feet as Kibagami stops the kicking assault Grabbing the old man in an inverted facelock, Nathan moves him backwards towards the ropes… “Flesh into Gear!” calls Comet as he springboards off the ropes… … but it’s premature as the Judge wraps his arms around the ropes, sending Silent sailing over him. The Silent One lands on his feet, but the Judge uses the last bit of his energy to get up behind Silent, wrapping his arms around the still surprised man’s throat. He spins him around and locks on a body scissors in a last ditch effort, dropping both men down in a Doushime Sleeper hold! Kibagami begins to try and break the hold, but the Judge holds on like his life depends on it. Not looking as though he can break the hold, Nathan begins to move towards the ropes instead, pushing with his feet. But suddenly a small smile draws across his face, and the man known as the Slaughterer slowly stops moving. “Yes! His legs must have given out due to Cross Examination! It all comes together! WHOO!” “I’m not sure that’s the-“ “Oh yes it is! YES! WHOO!” The crowd begins to boo as Matty Kivell comes over to the now unmoving Silent, and raises his hand. It falls. He raises it again. It falls. He raises it a final time. And it falls? Some of the fans give confused reactions while the others boo, and Kivell calls for the bell. *DING DING DING* “The winner of the match, and moving on to the next round… THE JUDGE, WILLIAM HEARFORD!” The old man releases the hold and quickly exits the ring, holding his side in pain after taking one too many kicks from the Silent One. Meanwhile, in the ring, Matty Kivell tries to revive the fallen Silent One… And Silent kips right back up to his feet. The crowd cheers a little, but falls into confused murmurs as the Silent One cracks a little smile across his face as he walks out as though nothing had happened to him. “… What was that?!” “I think, Bobbie, that Citizen Kibagami didn’t want to win that match.” “Why the hell not?” “No clue, but I’m sure we’ll find out about it soon enough. And stay tuned because we still have more tournament matches ahead on SWF LOCKDOWN!” *FADE TO BLACK*

(Comet) – Ladies, gentlemen, and good citizens of the world, welcome back to SWF Lockdown! As we prepare for yet our first tournament match of the evening, between William Hearford and Nathaniel Kibagami, we take you to an interview recorded just moments ago with reporter Ben Hardy and The Hville Thugg! ** Recorded Moments Ago ** A limo pulls to a halt just inside the Pershing Center parking garage, and the heavy set man jumps out of the driver’s side. As the driver walks to the passenger door, Ben Hardy runs up with his cameraman, Gus, on his coattails. (Hardy) – Hey! Is Thugg in there? (Driver) – Yes…let me get him out first. (Hardy) – Ok… The driver moves past the door to the trunk, where he opens it and pulls out Thugg’s wheelchair. He places the chair on the ground and opens it up to reveal the seat. He then opens the passenger door, and the first thing to hit the ground is a cane, which is used to help Thugg rise from the vehicle. An enormous roar can be heard coming from ringside as Thugg leans heavily on the cane as he moves to and sits down in the wheelchair. Once Thugg is situated, the driver closes the door and Ben Hardy approaches the less-than-enthusiastic HVT. (Hardy) – Thugg…do you have a moment? (HVT) – Yeah…what up? (Hardy) – Well, first and foremost, I want to thank you for rehiring me two weeks ago. I know I ratted the group out to King, and I appreciate your forgiveness. (HVT) – It’s all good yo…you’re weak…I know this. I knew that when I gave you the letters to deliver. King’s got control of you, and you’re too weak to break it. I ain’t gonna hold it against you. But, for real yo, I know you didn’t stop me to talk about that, so go ahead and ask me the question I know you wanna ask… (Hardy) – Ummm…ok…well, I think everyone’s been wondering for a little less than a week now…What is going to be your reaction to King’s statements on Storm about the stock each of you own? (HVT) – There’s nothing to talk about…he owns more stock. I tried to bluff him, and he caught me…that’s just the way it is. (Hardy) – But, what about King’s proposal to join him in a managerial role backstage? (HVT) – You mean work for him, don’t you? Cause that’s what it’ll be…as long as King has the power here, I ain’t gonna do shit on level with him. He’ll call the shots…and I’ll just be some nigga backstage cleanin’ up after wrestlers. You, and everybody else, knows I ain’t bout that…I ain’t gonna be nobody’s bitch! (Hardy) – But don’t you think it might be good for the talent to have you around…to give them some kind of a voice. (HVT) – Voice? You shittin’ me Hardy? What kind of fuckin’ voice can I have being King’s bitch? How can I demand that anyone listen to me or do what I say? If I join King…I’ll disappear backstage, never to be seen or heard from again. Tell me how that helps the cause…? (Hardy) – But how can you help if you leave? (HVT) – If I stay yo, I’ll just be something King will use against those people who stand up against him. I ain’t gonna be no weapon for that pussy…I ain’t gonna be the reason anybody here gets treated unfairly. (Hardy) – Then what do you plan to do? (HVT) – I don’t know Ben…I just don’t know. I been tryin’ to figure something out all week yo, but I ain’t got no answers right now. I tried to buy more stock, but them bitches ain’t sellin’…and that’s if I could even get the duckets to buy more…which I can’t! I already done gone broke buyin’ the 13% I got… (Hardy) – What about some of the talent…maybe they have something saved up? (HVT) – Yo, you’re one dumb fuck, you know that Hardy. Don’t you think I thought of that? King’s got that shit on lock…he instituted a policy stating that no current employee of the SWF can own stock. So that’s out…and the only person I can think of that could even possibly come up with the scratch to help a nigga out would be Strangler…and I ain’t gonna make him put his career on the line for this. (Hardy) – So, what? Just like that? It’s over? (HVT) – Who knows yo…maybe. I’m just here to see what’s poppin’ and waitin’ for a last minute miracle or something. Hardy glances at his feet for a moment, looking dejected and demoralized at the news that the movement will probably be over before it even begins. (Hardy) – Well, in light of all that…maybe you wanna talk about your condition for a moment…give everyone at home and idea of the state of your neck and why you’re in the wheelchair. (HVT) – Nah…I’m not really tryin’ to talk about that. The injury happened a long time ago, and I’m tryin’ to move past it if ya know what I’m sayin’. (Hardy) – But clearly, last week when you tried to Chokeslam King, it came back into play… (HVT) – I guess you can say that…I shouldn’t have done that. King just knows how to push a nigga’s buttons. (Hardy) – Well, it shocked us all to find out that you can actually walk, but then when you tried… (HVT) – I know what happened Ben…I was fuckin’ there. Look…I can walk, yes! But that’s about it. Aight…here’s the details…after the match with Bo, I had lost of surgery. The blow to my neck fucked up my spinal cord or some shit like that…it left me paralyzed from the waist down. They fixed it all up and shit, right, but they said my legs will never be the same. They said that they’re weak, and will always be weak…I can walk and shit, but I can’t do much else. They even said that I can’t be walkin’ very far…just like…to the bathroom or do the kitchen and shit. My legs would just get too weak and I’ll collapse…and they was like, “By all means, do not do any physical activity.” But, whatever…I wasn’t tryin’ to hear that…so, you saw…I tried to do it…and my legs just gave way. That’s the story…happy now? (Hardy) – No…I think I speak for all the talent…all the employees…all the fans when I say that it was painful to watch you collapse like that on national… (HVT) – Save that shit Ben! I ain’t even tryin’ to hear your sympathy kick…and I ain’t tryin’ to hear that shit from nobody else. It is what it is yo…and I’m straight. King’ll get his in time… (Hardy) – But what about… (HVT) – Yo man…I gotta bounce. I gotta go say bye to some people… Thugg begins to wheel himself towards the hallway leading inside the arena… (Hardy) – But Thugg…wait… But Thugg wheels himself inside without so much as another word to Hardy. ** End Transmission ** (Riley) – Wow… (Comet) – Wow indeed…Is this the last we’ve seen of Thugg? He made it clear that he won’t work for King… (Riley) – You mean with King, right? (Comet) – You heard what I said…so what’s next for Thugg? It seems the evildoer King is back on top and controlling the SWF…If Thugg leaves for good, like seems to be the case now, it will definitely be a huge blow to the movement to stop King. For that one day, there was an atmosphere in the locker room…of hope…and everyone seemed to think that with King out and Thugg in, things would be more fair and more fun around here. So now what? Who’s gonna save this fed now? It’s a disturbing situation here folks…who knows what’ll happen next. But for now, we’re gonna take a short break, so enjoy this public service announcement starring yours truly… Fade to PSA.

(Place this fairly early in the show please. No specific place.) “You’ve really gotten screwed over in this tournament—with that fast count by Eddy Long against Judge, after all the bullshit you went through, with that whole, wheel thing—” says ‘the Franchise’ Mak Francis, as he and his stablemate, CIA, make there way through the corridor. “And I’m not even booked for the show, surprising, eh Franchise.” CIA responds, as the get closer to the plaque that says ‘International Incident’. “Yo, I can’t wait to get my hands on that Show, guy!” says Francis, pumping his fist for emphasis, as CIA opens the door and enters. “Double Jeopardy has been nothing but trouble… first the tag titles, then costing us our matches—yo, I’m ready to make that big bitch tap like a chump.” ‘Click’ The Canadian mumbles ‘huh’, and Mak’s ears perk up, as he follows him into the room. Something is off, something is different. ‘Click—click’ ‘Click—click’ ‘…click…’ CIA flips the light switch once more, but nothing happens. The room stays fairly dark except for a low light drifting over the area, from the window… and a murmur. A sound catches the ear of ‘the Dream’, while Francis continues to strain, both men making out… words? “…You seek to take that which is not yours…” The low voice is proper, sophisticated, with a tinge of hate—no, cruelness perhaps? “…Your very lives are predicated upon the fact that you shine in my spotlight…” Mak looks around the dark room, only seeing shadows and the like. “What the…” he mumbles, as CIA takes a quick glance in the air and motions with his index and forefinger to continue moving. The voice speaks again; a slight change in inflection is evident. “…This action is unforgivable—I am in control, and I now know who you are…” After those last words, a small chuckle escapes from this unseen assailant. CIA has already deduced it must be a male, a person who he has heard speak before. It’s on the tip of his tongue, but actually finding the guy is more important, right now. “…By the time I’m through…” The two stablemates have covered the entire room and now stand perplexed in the center, wondering how someone could be speaking to them, and not be there. “…You will conform; my message will be heard…” And with that it occurs to both of them, as they finally spot the small black box. It’s a tape recorder… the vessel of a certain man. A man who has used it once before… but this time is different. “Sacred.” They say in unison. There is no inquisition, no suicide… “…And you will…” Only the promise of homicide, in a deep, yet violently calm growl. “…‘Join the Experiment’…” ------------------------------------------------------------- The arena is already dark as we return from a commercial break. Suddenly, fireworks explode around the arena, rafters and entrance ramp. The lights go out... "THIS IS MAH HOUSE!!" The pre-recorded voice echoes through the arena. Rammstein's 'Du Hast' plays without the lyrics. The heavy beats thunder throughout the arena. JD steps through the curtains, his head down. He walks to the top of the ramp, slowly raising his head. He lowers his head again, a malevolent smile plastered on his face. “Ladies and gentlemen, this match is scheduled for one fall. Currently making his way to the ring is the first competitor. Hailing from Vancouver, British Columbia, and weighing in at 243 pounds, this is his house….. JAY DAWG!!!!!!!!!” He enters the ring, placing his hands on his thighs, and slowly cricks his neck. Then steps back into the corner, and rests on the turnbuckles in wait for his opponent. “And his opponent….” The SmarkTron goes white with the blue words “SUPERIORITY COMPLEX” and “MAGNIFICENT SEVEN” on it. Then, with an explosion of blue pyro, “Kashmir” by Led Zeppelin bursts out over the loudspeaker. 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 “MAGNIFICENT SEVEN.” Flesher enters the ring and poses in the center head bobbing in time with the music, until the symphonic hook at 50 seconds in, which cues a machinegun-like burst of blue and white pyro from each corner. As the music fades, Funyon reads… “Ladies and gentlemen, the man currently in the ring has beaten his opponent twice before. As a matter of fact, he’s beaten just about everyone currently in the Smartmarks Wrestling Federation, all while losing fewer than two of every ten matches he wrestles. He expects tonight to be no different, because he is, quite simply, superior. Let’s hear it for ‘The Superior One,’ TOM FLESHERRRRRRRRRRRRR!” Flesher golf-claps for himself, ignoring the crowd's boos, and then strips off his warmup suit. He folds it, sets it in the corner and goes through a cursory stretch before the bell rings. DING DING DING!!!!!!! Flesher and Drazon move to the center of the ring. Each man stands at an angle, holding his arms to guard his upper body and exposing only half of his body to attack. “These two know what they’re in for,” says Bobby Riley. “They’re both trained in amateur fighting sports, Flesher in Greco-Roman wrestling and Jamie Drazon in the mixed martial arts. You won’t be seeing a fistfight out of these two.” “To the contrary, Citizen Riley,” replies Comet. “Tom Flesher and Jamie Drazon have seen so much of each other that they won’t be going through the motions. Nay, they’ll skip the formalities and move directly into beating on each other. Neither of them, you see, has seen the light of true justice. Neither has taken the side of Cyc-” “Yeah, yeah, we know,” grumbles Riley. “Just remember, they told you to hold it to once a segment. It’s driving away viewers.” “Poor misguided souls,” sighs Comet. Flesher and Drazon stare each other down for another second or so before Jay Dawg throws a quick Thai roundhouse kick straight at Flesher’s head! Flesher ducks, avoiding the blow by a hair. As Jay Dawg follows through with the kick, Flesher steps around and comes up behind him with a textbook duck-under. Flesher locks his hands around Drazon’s waist, and the crowd begins to cheer, anticipating a throwing battle already! Jay Dawg, however, has other plans. He drops down to the mat, hugging the canvas to keep Flesher from lifting him again, and then slides backwards between Flesher’s legs. Tom tries to keep his waistlock tight, but JD scoots backwards hard enough to break the grip. Tom stands up and turns around, but by the time he does, Jay Dawg is on his feet and throwing a sickening roundhouse kick! As a loud “CRACK!” echoes through the arena, his boot hits Flesher flush in the head, and the Superior One collapses to the mat! Jay Dawg drops onto him, and Eddy Long counts ONE!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! KICKOUT! As the fans groan disappointedly, Tom Flesher gets a shoulder up and rolls, stupefied, to the side. “Jamie Drazon executes a Thai roundhouse kick,” calls Cyclone Comet. “Stunned and shaken by the force of the blow, it is all Tom Flesher can do to escape!” “Either that, or Flesher’s too tough to go down to one little kick,” replies Riley. “Come on, we’ve seen Flesher take worse and give it right back.” Flesher wallows on the mat for a moment, hazy from the kick. Jay Dawg seizes the opportunity to grab Flesher’s left leg and slam it to the mat, and Tom cries out in pain. He tries to crawl away, getting within a few inches of the ropes. Before he can reach them, though, Jay Dawg hooks his leg and dives forward, locking on an STF! The crowd pops loudly, even this early in the match, as Drazon tightens the deadly submission. Panicking, Flesher lunges forward, reaching and grabbing the ropes after only a few seconds! The fans groan, and Eddy Long administers the standard five-count to force JD to release the hold. ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! Drazon breaks the STF just before the count of five, and the crowd applauds his grappling as Tom Flesher holds the ropes, trying to regain some semblance of mental order. “Clearly, Jamie Drazon has confounded the former SWF World Champion,” says Comet. “Even after their previous engagements, Citizen Flesher still has no way of reliably avoiding the effects of Jay Dawg’s superior striking, and that leaves him vulnerable to Drazon’s martial arts-influenced style of submission wrestling.” “There’s no way Drazon’s going to beat Flesher on the mat, though. Flesher owns him once they’re off their feet.” “Speaking from experience, my good man?” Comet deadpans. “He won’t be owning anyone, should he keep taking such vicious blows as Citizen Drazon is dealing out tonight.” Flesher gets to his feet and turns toward Jay Dawg, quickly throwing on a bodylock with one arm pinned. He steps in, trying to pressure Jay Dawg to his back with a classic Greco-Roman-style angle takedown. JD, however, recognizes the position and steps back, balancing and grabbing his own pinned-arm bearhug. Chest-to-chest, the two contenders jockey for position, each man trying to get in as close as possible and get the advantage. “This is a position both guys know well,” says Riley. “This over-under clinch position is present in every one of the combat sports. What Flesher and Drazon are doing is basically going back to basics to set up the rest of their arsenal.” Flesher steps in, swinging his left leg into Jay Dawg’s right to try to sweep him to the mat. JD sees it coming, however, and deftly bends his knee to avoid the sweep. As he does, Flesher breaks his grip and quickly throws a palm strike at Jay Dawg’s head. The Vancouver native pauses, caught off-guard. Flesher sweeps his leg through again, picking JD’s leg out from under him and sending him to the mat flat on his back! Flesher covers for ONE!!!!!!!!! But no more, as Jay Dawg kicks out with ease. “Definitely a mental advantage for Flesher,” says Riley. “He just baited Jay Dawg into doing just what he wanted him to do. That’s devastating for any wrestler, not to mention someone like Jamie who can barely work a zipper.” “Again, Bobby, I have to wonder if you’re speaking from experience.” Flesher stays on Jay Dawg, and JD responds by sliding backwards and bringing his legs up around Flesher’s stomach in the judo guard position. Flesher, recognizing the position as one that gives Jay Dawg the advantage, arches his back to try to break the scissors grip. Drazon’s legs, however, are too strong, and he easily keeps Flesher locked up. Flesher starts throwing surgically precise palm strikes, aiming for Jay Dawg’s neck and jaw to disorient him. Jay Dawg holds Flesher at a distance with the scissors grip and guards his face by blocking the palm blows with his forearms and deflecting them. Flesher throws one particularly hard shotei, extending his body for extra force. Jay Dawg deflects it regardless, taking advantage of Flesher’s bad position by sliding to the side and tightening the body scissors. Flesher, panicking, bellies down in an attempt to get away from his opponent. Jay Dawg pins Flesher’s arm to the mat and snakes his arm under Flesher’s shoulder in a half nelson, and the fans begin to scream their applause as they realize he’s going for the katahajime! Flesher realizes it too, and immediately clams up to keep Jay Dawg from getting a lock on. Knowing that the clam defense will only buy him a few seconds at best, Flesher reaches down and peels Jay Dawg’s ankles apart as quickly as possible, freeing himself from the bodyscissors. He turns in to face Jay Dawg, but quickly pulls away and jumps to his feet to avoid getting caught with a triangle choke. Jay Dawg grins from ear to ear and slowly stands up. “Look at the wicked countenance of the Hardcore Maniac, Bobby. Drazon knows full well that he’s beating the self-professed Superior One at his own game on the mat. Indeed, Flesher can clearly see it as well. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be running from Jay Dawg like a knave running from CYCLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONE COMET!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Riley simply sighs and mutters, “This wasn’t in my contract.” Jay Dawg follows Flesher to his feet. Without missing a beat, Flesher drops to his knees and hits a lightning-fast duck-under. He comes up behind Jay Dawg with his arms locked around his waist, but JD stays on his feet. Flesher pressures into him from behind, trying to take him to the mat to complete the technique. JD arches his hips out to break Flesher’s grip, but the Superior One reacts by popping his hips in and explosively arching his back! Before he knows what hit him, Jay Dawg is flying through the air, and Flesher unlocks his hands at the high point! Drazon falls like a rock, absorbing one of Flesher’s lethal released German suplexes! He lands hard on the back of his neck and rolls through onto his stomach. Flesher follows up with a brutal kneedrop, catching Drazon right on the back of the neck! The fans boo loudly as Flesher grandstands, dusting off his hands as if he’d actually accomplished something. “What a move by Flesher!” says Riley. “These two are wrestling back and forth, countering everything, but Flesher’s just got it all over him!” Flesher finishes working the crowd and sits down onto Jay Dawg’s back. JD pulls himself backwards, moving a few inches closer to the ropes. Before he can get very far, Flesher reaches down and hooks his chin. He sits back, draping Jay Dawg’s legs over his knees, and locks on a tight camel clutch! JD grimaces as Eddy Long drops down to ask him if he wants to submit. Flesher, meanwhile, leans back, an expression of casual enjoyment on his face as if he was sitting at the Suicide King’s minibar drinking a martini. “Flesher locks on the camel clutch, and his plan’s starting to come together,” says Riley. “They’re just throwing everything they have at each other. Flesher and Drazon have had such idiosyncratic matches, it’s impossible to come up with a plan for another match. They just need to go balls-out and go for broke.” “Idiosyncratic, Citizen Riley? What an odd choice of words.” “Yeah, ever since you came on the scene I’ve been trying to improve my vocabulary. Taamo even bought me a thesaurus.” Even as he writhes in pain, Jay Dawg reaches out with his legs, trying to extend one foot under the bottom rope. As he flails his leg around, he manages to hook his left boot over the bottom rope. He shouts, “MY FOOT’S ON!” Eddy Long stands up to look at the ropes. As he does, Flesher slides one hand out of the camel clutch grip and up to JD’s mouth. He bends the index finger and hooks it in the corner of his opponent’s mouth, fishhooking the soft part of the cheek out and smirking evilly as he does. Eddy Long sees that Jay Dawg has the bottom rope and counts ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! Finally, just before the five-count, Flesher pulls hard on his fishhook to elicit a scream from the Hardcore Maniac, then abruptly lets go. JD reaches up and sourly rubs his cheek as Flesher stands up, once again playing to the crowd. This time, he stands just in front of Jay Dawg, facing away, and mockingly brushes the dust off his shoulders. The crowd begins to cheer, and Flesher pauses, looking quizzically at them and wondering why they’d pop for his insults. His question is answered, though, when he feels Jay Dawg stand up behind him, lifting him onto his shoulders! The crowd’s cheering gets even louder as Drazon adeptly executes a half-turn, spinning and falling backwards to slam Flesher to the mat with an Electric Chair drop! Flesher hits hard, the wind knocked out of him. JD bridges, holding him for ONE!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!!! KICKOUT! Flesher kicks out forcefully and quickly scoots to the side of the ring, grabbing the bottom rope. Jay Dawg follows him over, grabbing at his leg to try to drag him off the ropes. Flesher fights for a few seconds, and then THWACK~! “What a sickening display,” spits Cyclone Comet as Jay Dawg doubles over in pain. “That was, as my predecessor used to say, the ultimate in unethical treatment of the testicles.” “I didn’t see anything,” replies Riley off-handedly. “How could you miss such an egregious display of villainy?” “My monitor went out.” Flesher stands up, and Eddy Long comes over to reprimand him. Flesher simply waves his hand dismissively, as if to say, “Bah, leave me alone,” and matter-of-factly slaps Jay Dawg across the face. He follows that up with a stiff knee to the chest, then mockingly kicks him to the ground. He hits JD with a knee drop across the chest, then rolls him to his stomach. The fans boo as Flesher reaches down, locking his hands in the reverse waistlock used for the Ego Buster! “Remember,” says Riley, “this is the move that finished Jay Dawg the last time these two wrestled!” “And YOU remember, good sir, that it took two Ego Busters to put Citizen Drazon down for the count. In fact, he’s kicked out of the move before.” Flesher lifts him a few inches, but Jay Dawg hugs the mat and wraps his body around Flesher’s leg. Flesher fights, but Jay Dawg keeps countering. Finally, Tom gives up, and Jay Dawg seizes the opportunity to switch and grab Flesher for an Ego Buster of his own! Before he can lift him, though, Flesher catches JD by the head and pulls him down into a small package! Eddy Long counts ONE!!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!! NO!!!!!!!!! Jay Dawg kicks out! Tom gets to his feet a hair before JD and catches him coming up, then whips him to the corner! He follows close behind, lifting his boot and slamming into JD with a Yakuza kick! Drazon collapses into the corner as Flesher rebounds. Then, as he sits up, Flesher puts the boots to him! He throws kick after kick, slamming into JD over and over as the Hardcore Maniac sits helpless. Finally, Flesher jumps up, throwing a dropkick that catches his opponent flush in the face! He stands up, applauding himself as the crowd boos him! “I’ll tell you,” says Riley, “Flesher’s really got the upper hand here.” “Are you saying he’s on top, Robert?” “Why yes, he is. And I’d like him to stay there as long as possible.” “I’m sure you would, good sir.” Flesher grabs JD by the leg and drags him to the center of the ring, covering him for ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! NO!!!!!!!!! Jay Dawg gets to his feet, but before he can get his senses back, Flesher grabs him and whips him to the ropes! On the rebound, he catches JD and throws him overhead with a picture-perfect Railgun suplex! JD lands with a THUD, and Flesher rolls through. Before he can cover, though, Jay Dawg is getting back to his feet. Flesher steps in, grabbing JD tightly for another Railgun! Jay Dawg, however, grabs Flesher just as tight and steps around, reversing the momentum into an overhead suplex of his own! Flesher lands hard, and Jay Dawg covers for ONE!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! KICKOUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! “Jesus,” says Riley, “Flesher and Drazon are going a mile a minute here. If you were just watching the near-falls, you’d think this was an even match, when in fact Flesher’s just outclassing Jay Dawg by miles.” “Would that be the same Flesher laid out in the middle of the ring?” “He’s playing possum.” JD grabs Flesher’s leg, leaving the Superior One on his back. He hooks the leg and twists the ankle as he starts slamming stiff kicks into the hamstring. Flesher grimaces and writhes, but resists as JD tries to step over into a half-crab. Flesher kicks wildly with his free leg, finally getting JD to release him. JD backs off, and Flesher rolls to his knees. However, as he- WHACK! “Jay Dawg catches Flesher unaware with that roundhouse kick,” says Comet, “like a vile rogue caught unaware by the bastion of justice that is-” “You already used your allotment, Comet.” “Curses.” As Flesher flops to the mat, caught completely off-guard by JD’s roundhouse kick, the martial artist covers him for ONE!!!!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! NO! Flesher gets a shoulder up just in time to avoid the three-count! Jay Dawg stays on him, however, and stands up, pulling him into a standing headscissors. From there, he lifts Flesher up, holding him upside down for a few seconds before sitting out abruptly, slamming Flesher to the mat with a piledriver! Flesher bounces off the mat, then lands on his back once again. With that, Jay Dawg starts to cover… but then he looks up at the corner. As the fans see the SWF’s own Hardcore Legend look up at the turnbuckle, they begin to cheer louder and louder. Finally, he acquiesces. “Jay Dawg, heading to the top,” says Riley. “We don’t see this out of him very often, and with good cause.” “Nay, Robert, Drazon is willing to sacrifice his own body to put the exclamation point, the full-stop if you will, on a match. His swan-dive headbutt is about to put Tom Flesher into the abyss of a criminal who suffers my Falling Star Bomb!” Jay Dawg climbs slowly. As he does, the stunned Superior One starts to stir. JD gets to the top rope just as Flesher gets to his feet, and as Drazon pauses, Flesher lunges for the ropes! He grabs the top rope, shaking it violently, and Drazon falls crotch-first onto the turnbuckle! The crowd groans as JD grimaces. Flesher, meanwhile, sprints up the ropes, grabs JD under the arms and arches backwards, throwing him off the top rope and flat into the center of the ring! When he lands, though, Flesher stays down, still feeling the effects of the roundhouse kick and piledriver. “Citizen Flesher may have seen the worst of that avalanche Railgun,” says Comet with an air of concern. “After all, adrenaline will only carry you through so many acts of knavery.” “Jesus, would you please speak English?” After a few more seconds, Flesher manages to roll over and drape an arm over JD for ONE!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! NO!!!!!!!!!! JD kicks out weakly, but Flesher grabs a deep breath and stands up. Jay Dawg rolls over, and Flesher grabs him from behind. He ducks his head under JD’s arm, locking his hands around the waist for a backdrop driver! Jay Dawg, however, feels the suplex coming and clamps down on the side headlock to keep Flesher from executing it. Flesher pulls back, trying to get out of the hold. JD loosens his grip slightly, allowing Flesher to pull away. Drazon then spins around, throwing a stiff kick straight into Flesher’s chest! Tom staggers backwards, trying to get his wind back. Jay Dawg throws a stiff right hand that Flesher manages to block, then follows up with a left hook that grazes the former World Champion. Flesher deflects the blow, though, and counters by driving a hard knee into Drazon’s gut! As JD doubles over, Flesher strings the left arm through his legs, locking on a pumphandle. Then, after tightening his grip on Drazon’s head, Flesher arches backwards with a loud kiai! Drazon doesn’t even know what hit him as he lands hard on his head, the victim of Tom Flesher’s Logical Disconnect! Flesher rolls through, covering Drazon for ONE!!!!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Eddy Long starts to call for the bell, but waves it off as practically everyone in the building screams at him to look at Drazon’s foot, draped over the bottom rope! Flesher stands up, looks at the foot on the ropes, and then shouts at Long to call for the bell. “Tom Flesher had this match won!” screams Bobby Riley. “Why the hell won’t Long call for the bell?” “Citizen Drazon is simply taking full advantage of the rules and the protection they afford him,” replies Comet calmly. “Flesher has done it on more than one occasion, as you’re aware.” “Yes, but when he does it it’s CUTE!” Meanwhile, Jay Dawg rolls to his stomach. He quickly, quietly gets to his knees, then reaches out and grabs Flesher’s ankle! He stands up with the leg, picking it our from under the Superior One, and then sweeps his leg out from under him! Flesher collapses to the mat, but immediately starts to stand up. Jay Dawg, seeing this, releases his leg and throws an exceptionally slow, sloppy kick to Flesher’s midsection. Working on instinct, Flesher catches it, then immediately ducks to avoid the inevitable enzuigiri. Jay Dawg, however, doesn’t throw the enzuigiri. Instead, he dives the other way, sweeping Flesher’s legs out from under him with a Judo-style flying scissors! Flesher collapses, not sure what just happened. Before he can figure it out, Jay Dawg locks on the body scissors once again! As the crowd chants “TAP! TAP! TAP!,” Flesher starts lunging for the ropes, reaching for any escape possible. Jay Dawg, meanwhile, reaches for Flesher’s head, looking for the katahajime! Flesher reaches down, peeling the bodyscissors apart, and stands up. JD kicks him hard in the lower back, buying himself some time to stand up as Flesher staggers toward the ropes. His chest bounces off the top cable, and Jay Dawg catches him on the rebound! He lifts Flesher up into a torture rack, and the crowd goes absolutely apeshit! “Here comes the Judgment Slam!” declares Comet declaratively. “The Olympic Slam variant that put Flesher down in the only match that Jay Dawg won against him!” Flesher, however, has other ideas. As Drazon lifts him into the air, he shifts his weight and rolls backwards out of the torture rack, landing harmlessly on his feet next to his off-balanced opponent! Taking any chance he can get, Flesher dives down to pick Jay Dawg’s ankle. JD avoids it, however, stepping back and pulling the ankle out of Flesher’s reach. As Flesher comes back up, he throws another sickeningly stiff Thai roundhouse kick! Flesher sees it coming, though, and ducks! This time he does grab the ankle, sweeping Drazon’s leg out from under him! Drazon bellies out, and Flesher goes to work on top. He grabs JD around the waist, dropping down for leverage. Drazon tries to slither out between Flesher’s legs as he did before, but Flesher lowers his grip and arches powerfully into the air! Once again, he unlocks his hands at the high point of the lift, letting Jay Dawg drop like a rock to the mat! JD rolls through to his stomach, knowing better than to stay on his back with Flesher in control. As Drazon raises his head, still dazed but trying to fight through it, Flesher drops down onto him and locks on a front headlock! He stands up, holding Jay Dawg tightly by the neck, and… waits. “Isn’t Citizen Long aware of what that contemptible thug is doing?!” asks Comet indignantly. “Oh, and white might that be?” “That choke is as flagrant as a henchman in a striped shirt and Lone Ranger mask!” “I don’t see anything.” Flesher keeps the hold, content to choke his opponent quietly out of consciousness and then hit a brainbuster for the win. Drazon, however, actively fights the hold. He shrugs, rolls his head, and does just about anything possible to try to loosen the choke. Long drops down, but sees only a front headlock, not an illegal choke. Angry at Long’s inability to see where the maneuver shifts from fatigue hold to choke, Drazon summons up the last of his strength and dives into Flesher’s hips! He locks his hands around Flesher’s waist, then arches back to throw him to the mat with a Northern Lights suplex! The crowd pops loudly, and Long counts ONE!!!!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Flesher gets a shoulder up! He rolls through, but Jay Dawg is already waiting for him! He drives his knee into the former World Champion’s stomach, doubling him over. With that, he reaches down and crosses Flesher’s arms across his neck. The crowd pops, seeing that it’s time for JD’s Revenge! “No, this isn’t fair!” screams Riley. “Flesher just had him! He was ready to choke him out!” “And you say you didn’t see anything.” “It’s an expression, dumbass,” says Riley, covering badly. “Yes, an expression of your inability to see what is right and just! An expression of the thousand blemishes on your character, Citizen Riley! An expression of your direct opposition to CYCLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONE COMET!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” “Shut up and call the match!” Flesher struggles as Drazon tightens the grip, ready to hit his gokuraku pedigree for the win! As they fight, Flesher spreads his arms out, creating enough space to pull his head out of the tight hold. He pulls away, keeping his hands locked with Drazon’s. He spreads Drazon’s arms out wide, then yanks them both to his right to set Jay Dawg out of position. Drazon tries to correct and regain his balance, standing up straight. Flesher seizes the opening, driving into him with a double-leg takedown that’s more like a football tackle! Jay Dawg pulls away, standing back up as Flesher gets his bearings back as well. Drazon stumbles toward the corner, and Flesher immediately swings into action, shooting another explosive double that sends JD right into the turnbuckles! “What a takedown!” says Riley. “That’ll knock the wind right out of you!” Jay Dawg staggers out of the corner, and Flesher sweeps his leg out from under him. Rather than covering him, though, Flesher reaches down, locking his hands in a reverse waistlock. The crowd begins to boo, and Flesher lifts Drazon high into the air. Riley shouts, “EGO BUSTER! COME ON, TAAMO, PUT HIM AWAY!” Flesher stalls for a few seconds, and then BAM!!!!!!!! dumps Jay Dawg flat onto his head! JD nearly folds in half with the force of the Russian neck drop, and Flesher confidently covers for ONE!!!!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! NO!!!!!!!!!!! The crowd explodes as Jay Dawg gets a shoulder up to once again avoid being put down by the Ego Buster. Flesher’s jaw drops, and he sits on his knees for a few moments, dumbfounded. Jay Dawg, meanwhile, rolls instinctively to his stomach, not sure exactly what to do. “HOW COULD THAT NOT END THE MATCH?!” screams Riley. “He’s been beating Jay Dawg from pillar to post!” “Citizen Drazon is one exceptionally resilient athlete, Robert,” replies Comet. “Besides, he HAS kicked out of that maneuver before. It should come as no surprise, just as it comes as no surprise that the SWF has renewed their endorsement contract with Pepsi-MAX!” Flesher, sighing and looking emotionally defeated, rolls onto Jay Dawg. As if he’s phoning in yet another fatigue move, he stands over the supine Hardcore Maniac and reaches under his hips, locking up another waistlock. Instead of dropping his hips for leverage, though, he simply tries to muscle Jay Dawg into the standing position necessary for the German suplex. Jay Dawg fights against it, hugging the mat and sliding backwards between Flesher’s legs. He tries to wriggle free again, but this time Flesher bends his elbows and catches Drazon under the arms! He cocks his right arm up hard, locking on an airtight half-nelson! With that, he steps off Drazon’s back, making it easy to pull him to a standing side-by-side position! “Could it be….?” asks Riley, as Flesher quickly swings his right leg forward, and then kicks it back forcefully! He falls forward, driving Jay Dawg face-first into the mat with a half-nelson forward Russian leg sweep! “YES! JOKERS WILD! JOKERS WILD!!!!!!!!” “Yes, a villain like Flesher WOULD cheat at cards….” “SHUT UP AND CALL THE MATCH!” Jay Dawg nearly bounces off the mat, and Flesher quickly rolls him to his back. Careful to hook the leg, Flesher cradles his opponent for ONE!!!!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DING DING DING!!!!!!!!!! Flesher leaps to his feet, and Eddy Long raises his hand. “Your winner,” says Funyon, “‘the Superior One,’ TOM FLESHERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!” “What a barnburner!” says Riley. “And in the end, Tom Flesher once again takes out Jamie ‘Jay Dawg’ Drazon! What do we have next, Comet?” “More Smartmarks Wrestling action, more evildoers, more bastions of justice, and more CYCLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONE COMET!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” “God da-” Fade to commercial.

I will be posting the schedule through the end of the year later this week, after CC has had a chance to review it and make sure it all fits. And if it makes anyone feel any better, I have the schedule for 2004 more or less done and ready to be typed into a new schedule post later in the year. Yes Ladies and Gentlemen, I can say with some confidence that Genesis V will be held on Sunday, September 19, 2004. Plan your vacations accordingly.

And updated with the build to our last "real" PPV of the year, Ashes 2 Ashes.

Jack Daniel's Sour - Basically just Jack & sour mix over ice. Good stuff. I'm also a big fan of Malibu rum mixed with Pineapple juice. As far as straight liquor, I like Jack, Cuervo and Goldschlager.

When I get a chance, I will throw together a banner for us, although I can't do animated. Probably be late Tuesday before it is finished.

King made me change the logo. Seems he didn't like the "Voyage Home" subtitle. The new one is linked to in a post above. Oh, and your bracket on the Genesis page (which is spiffy as hell, by the way) is missing the last round of the loser's bracket, where the losers of the final three way in the winner's bracket fight the last remaining person from the loser's bracket for the shot at the winner of the winner's bracket.

For every great 3 hour movie there is a crappy three hour movie. length alone does not make a picture good. To prove that, I give you "Gods and Generals".

One of the reasons people were so suprised FotR made so much bank was that it had significantly less showings than the 2nd place movie. Every theater was packed.

You can pretty quickly and easily stabilize the picture and sharpen it up a little, maybe a little color-correction, but that's about it without big $$ programs.

No, I do understand the difference. And there are two things I want to say here, one of them is probably pretty realistic and the other is, admittedly, very cynical, snarky and somewhat mean. The first point is pretty simple really. I remember an interview with Peter Jackson where he says the reason they call them "Extended Editions" and not "Director's Cut" or "Special Editions" is that there is nothing wrong with the theatrical editions of the movie. They are, in fact, the movies he wanted to make. He knew in advance about the three hour running time and edited the movie accordingly. When the chance came to release all of the stuff they really wanted in a new edition of the movie, he did so. This doesn't invalidate the theatrical cut, make them any less significant or make the "Extended Edition" the difinitive edition. I guess I am just tired of having other DVD fans say I am "stupid" for buying this DVD. As I said, I have no regrets from buying the first Fellowship DVD. Oh well... The other comment I thought of, the meaner of the two, comes from being a little defensive about not only my DVD buying habits, but my favorite movies, the Star Wars series. In the last few years, particuarly on the Internet but seeping into other forms of media, a real hatred of Star Wars has appeared and I'm not sure I understand it. And not just of the prequels, but of the original trilogy itself. The response to my earlier comparison struck me instantly as a way to forgive LotR for changing the movie we all fell in love with, but crucify (no pun intended) Star Wars for the same thing. But I'm pretty sure that isn't true in this case. And to be honest, were I only to buy one of the DVD sets I would wait for the EE. No big shock there. But I have the luxury of having the cash right now for Two Towers. And to be honest, between the trailers (love 'em, God help me) and the RotK preview (wow...) I feel like my $15 was well spent. I for one am looking forward to having all 21 discs (3 2-disc sets, 3 4-disc sets, 3 discs of extras from the collector's edition) of Lord of the Rings on DVD lined up on a shelf of my DVD collection. Oh... and your reason for keeping them at 3 hours os dead on. Theater owners would hate it because it cuts down on the number of showings per day.

As I understand it, it won't improve the video quality, particuarly if the video quality is degraded to start with. However, unlike a VHS tape, the quality will not degrade futher with additional viewings.

As I've said before, this rfeally isn;t a double-dip. First off, they told everyone about it far in advance. Add in the fact that the discs are meant to complement each other (different versions of the movie, different special featues) and I don't see a reason that there is all this hostility towards buying the first release. I find it especially ironic considering the amount of crap that we, as the DVd community, have given Lucasfilm for even thinking about releasing the original Star Wars trilogy as the special editions only. Everyone gripes and complains and gnashes their teeth and boycotts DVDs. But when the producers of LotR do it right by releasing both the theatrical and extended editions, everyone looks down on the theatrical version. I'm not sure I understand that logic.

Crap. I'll fix that as soon as I get home today and have the corrected version posted by 5:30 or 6.

Once again, the bracket is updated. I also corrected a misspelling and strainghtened things up a little.

I can't think of anyone to add... but I would like to point out that I beat Stubby. - GSMS

I have been trying to erase the memories of "Galactica 1980" from my memory for 20 years now. Thanks for bringing it up.

I'm getting them both. I got both the 2-disc and 4-disc Fellowship discs, and haven't regretted it for a second. I love trailers, and the 2-disc sets are the only ones that have them.

SWF Smarkdown! August 25, 2003 LIVE from the SOLD-OUT Sioux Falls Arena in Sioux Falls, South Dakota!! All matches due by 9 PM Send all materials to: Suicide King All matches are regular singles, non-title matches, and all word limits are still 5000 words. Loser's Bracket Matches XCalibur v. Insane Luchador Send to chirs3 English Dragon v. Judge Mental Send to Edwin MacPhisto "The Sinner"John Duran v. Aecas Send to Suicide King "The Franchise" Mak Francis v. Dace Night Send to Grand Slam Viktor Tarankov v. Stryke Send to chirs3 Winner's Bracket Matches Annie Eclectic v. Micheal Craven Send to Grand Slam CIA v. Show Send to chirs3 Dante Crane v. Ejiro Fasaki Send to Edwin MacPhisto Quiz v. "Deathwish" Danny Williams Send to Suicide King Jay Dawg v. Apostle Send to Edwin MacPhisto Main Event "The Sacred One"Andrew Blackwell v. Nathaniel Kibagami Send to Suicide King

None of my local stores did a "Midnight premiere" thing, which ticked me off as a couple actually advertised it in the Sunday ad, then decided not to participate.

And the bracket is updated and all errors (but misspelling Taft's name, sorry) are fixed. If anyone sees anything else, please let me know. And in case anyone is interested (like the website people) the new official logo for Genesis IV is posted on my graphics page. Just follow the link!