Kaertos

I have Raynor's matches so the show will be up by 5:30 at the latest. Card to follow promptly.

Well friends, it is 1:30 AM Eastern and I am still missing two matches to post the show. Thus, it will be up tomorrow evening as soon as I get home from work with the Smarkdown card to follow. I am sorry to do this, but I can't stay up as I have to be up by 6:00 AM for work. Besides, from what I have read of the show, it is well worth waiting for.

I have been bugging my sister-in-law's boyfriend to join. So I run out this morning to see if the info on the website is correct and it isn't there. It says that the directory listing has been denied. Luckily, I also gave him the swf.thesmartmarks.com address... Who is responsible for keeping track of this?

When I was a kid, it was the very end of the Big Red Machine. These guys were my heroes. Bench, Rose, Concepcion, Griffey, Geronimo, Perez... all of the. But Rose and Bench shone brighter than the others to me. When Rose came back to manage the Reds, I was thrilled. I remember sitting in a Ponderosa listening to his first game back on a transistor radio. When I heard the allegations, I was stunned and in denial for a long time. As I got older and bothered to actually read the Dowd report, I realized that he did, in fact, bet on baseball. Honestly, I was crushed. But I still wanted him in the HoF. Now? Screw him. He lied to me. For 15 years, he lied to me. Nobody in the past two decades has done more to undermine the game of baseball than Rose. His selfish me-first attitude and grating public persona have turned me from one of the mindless Rose worshipping sheep into an actual Rose hater. Pete Rose was a great baseball player. I will not deny that. But he does not belong in the Hall of Fame. He broke the one rule of baseball that is hung on the wall in every single clubhouse since the Black Sox scandal. Do not bet on baseball. To hell with him. I am sick of hearing about him.

"Home" and "Go Home" are not the same thing at all. "Go Home" is a song written especially for the Cincinnati Reds and Great American Ballpark. In fact, I think it is one of like two songs on the album that doesn't specifically reference the Reds. Lyrics? Well, since you asked nicely, here is the chorus: Go Home! You're Done. Hit the showers. Thanks for the runs. You Bum! You got rocked. Just beat it. You got the hook. Go Home! More... well, I guess so... Hey pitcher well I guess that was your fastball. I don't know if you could get it past my grandma. Are you wondering if this was just a bad dream? Think about it on your way back to the farm team. And that's all I can remember off the top of my head.

I'll see if I can hook anyone who really cares up with a copy.

... Wow ... I am impressed...

As a CC request... I at least would look fondly upon the individual who collects all of the info in this thread into one post so we can add it to some of the other info and consolidate some pinned threads...

This causes me to wonder if anyone has actually heard my Blessid Union of Souls entrance?

Very nice Judge. Maybe in some fantasy universe, Grand Slam and Judge could be an "old guys" tag team and show all these youngsters how it is done. I like the story very much, and I think it makes Judge that much more a real person. Way to go.

Yup, and that blackout on the dish works for all of the "season ticket" programs. I called Time-Warner and asked them about the baseball package because they were having a sale and I could get the whole year for like $100. All I asked was could I get all of the Reds games, when they said no, I said I wasn't interested. I understand the theory behind the blackout on free, nationally televised games. I'm not saying i agree with it, but I understand it. But if I am dropping big cash on a "season ticket" program, I should be able to see any freaking game I like.

Yeah, but isn't the travel thing part of why they have divisions that are geographic? Besides, nobody has a problem with Green Bay, Chicago, Minnesota and Detroit in the same division. In fact, I think it is one of the best division, rivalry-wise, in the NFL.

The best acting jobs in the movies were turned in by Sir Ian McKellan as Gandalf and Sean Astin as Sam. Hands down, no contest. Viggo as Aragorn is close, but some of his stuff rang a little hollow to me in the first two. Tremendous job in the third one however.

No Dames... they didn't. It didn't seem that silly to me. It was a nice way to show that Legolas realized what was happening and showed his understanding of the suicidal nature of the march.

Here's a rivalry that I personally find interesting. The Bengals/Browns/Steelers triangle. If you ask someone in Cincinnati who their biggest rival is, they'll say the Browns. Ask someone in Cleveland and they'll say the Steelers. Which is not to say Cincy likes the Steelers or the Brownies like the Bengals, but it isn't a rivalry. I think the NFL missed a great opportunity to start a new rivalry between the Bengals and the Colts by putting Baltimore in the AFC North and Indy in the AFC South.

My quick thought on your match Thugg? You made Mak look like the toughest man in the Fed with the ending. I lost track of how many Finishers you nailed him with. This match was a good example of putting your opponent over and still winning the match. I liked it.

Simply awesome Janus... I love it. In fact, I will be downloading the .mp3 to keep for posterity. Very, very nice. ::Schedules Janus for a Word Title Defense at G5::

Save me from the Venom fan boys. I liked the character in his first appearance, but never understood why he was so popular. In fact, I actively disliked him. Oh well, I hope they stick to some of Spidey's classic villians for the first few movies and keep the hard-to-explain Venom and even-harder-to-explain (and frankly annoying) Carnage as far away from the films as possible. I'd love to see Lizard, Electro, Sandman, Kraven, or Chameleon.

King has been having some computer issues that have not allowed him to get online recently. He wanted me to assure you that he will be here for the PPV, and that he will answer all of his PMs. However, if it is something of crucial, immediate importance, PM me or Z. Oh, and Va'aiga, he told me to tell you that he promises he will answer your PM.

I am very disappointed in eveyone who comes right out and says they are not writing a match because they don't like the stip. I had a whole lot more written, but I deleted it because I don't want to cause trouble, and I doubt anyone cares to hear my thoughts on the matter.

"Ladies and gentlemen, up next is tonight’s MAIN EVENT!” Funyon stands center ring, grabbing everyone’s attention. “The following contest is scheduled for ONE FALL…” So do you wanna’ be a Franchise… And live large… A big house… five cars… “Making his way to ringside,” shouts Funyon, as the wispy sounds of a digital xylophone echo throughout the arena; a deep background beat, cleverly created by violins, and slightly overshadowing the original background rhythm. As the opening lyrics from Mak Francis’ Rock Superstar remix continue to blare over the PA system, the crowd bursts out of their seats, in recognition of the all too familiar music! The rent charge… Comin’ up in the world, don’t trust nobody… Gotta’ look over your shoulder constantly! The SmarkTron flares up with a blue and white photonegative image of Mak Francis, which is followed by ‘The Franchise’ in large green lettering flashing on the screen in time with the beat, interspersed with signature spots and clips of Francis’ trademark smirking pose. After stepping out from behind the curtain and down the ramp, Mak tilts his shades down on the bridge of his nose, smirking… looking left, then right, soaking up the crowds’ reaction… I remember the days, when I was a young kid grownin’ up… Lookin’ in the mirror dreamin’ about blowin’ up! *PWI-SHEW! PWI-SHEW! PWI-SHEW! PWI-SHEEEEEEW!!* He readjusts his shades with a smirk, slowly strolling down to ringside. After walking up the ring steps, he cockily wipes his feet on the apron, giving a salute to the crowd, before entering through the middle ropes. Mak climbs the nearest turnbuckle and poses as a wave of flashing lights goes off. “Mak Francis has been paying the price for his attack on HVT at our last show. Thugg came here this week to beat him down, but Tom Flesher interfered in their first altercation, securing Mak’s involvement in this match. That only made things worse, because Thugg came back with a vengeance!” “True, but he ended up getting his comeuppance, as both men have been gunning to get the other to say ‘I Quit’ all night!” adds Comet. “Their rivalry has become full-on hatred, as neither man believes that they will ever say the words ‘I Quit’ again!” The lights go down again; the SmarkTron glows white. As the opening guitars of the Philosopher Kings’ “I Am The Man” vibrate throughought the arena, the words “WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION” fade onto the screen in thin blue lettering. The fans applaud, anticipating the entrance of the Superior One. After a few seconds… *BOOM!* An explosion of blue pyro and smoke lights up the arena as the song rocks out over the speakers! Tom Flesher emerges from the cloud of smoke, striding confidently as videos of his signature moves alternate in half-second clips with the words “SUPERIOR ONE,” “AWARD-WINNING,” “MAIN ATTRACTION” and “THE MAN.” Flesher pauses on the ramp, crossing his arms over his chest as the fans applaud him. They continue cheering for him as he falls out of his pose and walks to the ring, his SWF Title belt slung over his shoulder. “And here comes Tom Flesher, who was in a bit of a pickle at the start of this show. Ejiro and Judge are the best tag team known to man, and after that save last week by Francis he seemed like the logical choice for a partner.” “But Mak made the save because of his dislike for J&R, not for Tom Flesher,” sneers Riley. “He still doesn’t trust him. Neither do I!” Flesher climbs the stairs and, making sure to wipe his feet off on the apron, steps into the ring. As the music fades away, Flesher walks over to Francis and tensely offers a handshake. Francis clasps his hand as Funyon makes his announcement… “From the East Coast,” says Funyon, the East Coast Legacy reference drawing applause... “Weighing in at FOUR hundred and FORTY-NINE pounds… TOM FLESHER and MAK FRANCIS!” “As we said earlier,” says Comet, “Tom and Mak were able to put their differences aside and reunite, in this non-title match, after Flesher showed Francis that he had his back with Thugg.” “And now they’ll go up against the premier team in the SWF… Hearford and Fasaki… Justice and Rule!” “And their OPPONENTS…” booms Funyon. JUSTICE! RULE! POPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOP! “Sleep Now in the Fire" by RATM plays while three-second clips of them nailing tag moves, finishers, cheating, taunting the crowd, and generally being assholes show on the SmarkTron. The dastardly duo makes its way to ringside, soaking up the boos, as they show off and mock-polish their SWF tag team titles. “Making their way to ringside… weighing in at FOUR hundred and SIXTY pounds… Ejiro Fasaki and William Hearford III… JUSTICE and RULE!” They hand the tag belts to some attendants and head to their corner, where they huddle and review their match plan. After the huddle, Ejiro points at Flesher, yelling ‘I want you’ to get under the skin of the World Champ, who acknowledges by stepping out to center ring and leaving Mak outside. Rule and Justice do a quick fistpound, before Hearford leaves the ring. “And it looks like it’ll be Tom Flesher and Ejiro Fasaki to start, which surprises me,” notes Bobby, as the two go away from their respective corners and move about the squared circle. “You don’t say, Riley… after all the antagonizing he just did, I’d be surprised if Tom didn’t start.” “Please, Flesher’s more afraid of Rule than you are of the dark!” “I thought we were going to keep that between us…” DING DING DING!!!!!!!! Flesher and Fasaki square off, with Fasaki smirking at the fact that he beat Flesher cleanly in the center of the ring last week. Flesher, seemingly not distracted at all, pushes forward, cracking his forehead against Fasaki’s as he forcefully grabs a collar-and-elbow tie. The fans applaud his aggression as he snakes his left arm under Fasaki’s right and steps to the side, changing his angle of attack.Fasaki tries to step back, but Flesher quickly drops down and snags him with a high single-leg takedown! He continues the motion, forcing Ejiro to his stomach on the mat. Flesher stays on his back, grinding a forearm into Ejiro’s neck and keeping him planted firmly on the mat. “Flesher takes the initial risk,” says Comet, “and comes out on top, taking charge.” “Sure, in the first five seconds,” says Riley. “Who can’t take charge for five seconds before he loses his steam?” “Well, I wouldn’t say it’s as common for most as for some…” Flesher spins to the front, keeping his arm on Ejiro’s neck. Quickly, applies a front headlock and throws a stiff knee strike into Ejiro’s head! The crowd applauds as Flesher stands up, pulling the stunned Ejiro into a tighter headlock. Ejiro pulls back, allowing Flesher to deepen the underhook on the right arm. He punches his arm through, sending Ejiro to the mat with a cement job! Mark Hebner drops down to count the fall, but Ejiro kicks out even before one. Flesher keeps the headlock, sliding out to the front again. Fasaki quickly rolls out to the side, countering into an arm wrench and backing away. Flesher stands up, only to be met with a kick to the ribs! Ejiro keeps the armwringer, then pulls Flesher in and nails him with a short-arm elbow strike! Flesher falls down, and Ejiro walks over his chest, golf-clapping for himself! Hearford claps along, but the crowd boos. Fasaki acknowledges his partner, then lifts Flesher to his feet and nails him with another elbow. With the champion stunned, Ejiro whips him to the ropes. Flesher hits the ropes and sprints to the other side, ducking a Screaming Elbow along the way. He hits the ropes, where Mak Francis reaches out and slaps him on the shoulder to tag himself in! Ejiro misses it, and Flesher pops up a boot in hopes of nailing a Yakuza kick! Ejiro ducks, and Flesher continues running. He hits the opposite ropes again. Ejiro turns to face him, but Flesher simply baseball slides between his legs as Mak enters the ring. Ejiro turns around and eats a stiff right hand from the Franchise! “OUCH!” shouts Comet. “Flesher dodges a bullet, and Fasaki catches it!” “That was an illegal closed fist!” Riley spits. “If Mark Hebner doesn’t start enforcing that now, this whole match is going downhill!” After that vicious knockdown, Mak shakes out his right hand, as if to say he really overdid it with that one, considering the thickness of Ejiro’s head! Flesher is forced to remove himself form the ring, hands raised in the air, as the referee escorts him back to his corner. “Mark Hebner won’t accept any funny business from Flesher tonight!” says Comet, to which Riley simply grunts. As Tom steps out, Mak Francis lifts Rule to his feet and slaps on a modified side headlock. From there, the Franchise launches a forearm to the side of Fasaki’s head! Mak follows up with an elbow to the nape of the neck, all the while leading Ejiro to a neutral corner. There, a resounding smack echoes throughout the arena as a knife-edge chop lands across the Tag Champion’s chest! This causes him to seize up and attempt to leave the neutral corner. He edges on tippy-toes toward his corner, but the Franchise will have none of that and tosses him back into the turnbuckles before waylaying him with rapidfire chops that get the hot crowd in on the action. *Smack-WHOOOOOOOOOO!* *Smack-WHOOOOOOOOOO!* *Smack-WHOOOOOOOOOO!* Mak, having established control over Fasaki, grabs the stunned grappler by the wrist, leans in and sends him away with a cross corner whip. Ejiro hits the buckles hard and stays there, while the Franchise, still gaining steam, rumbles in to hit a clothesline! Rule slumps down. Grabbing the wilting wrestler by the head, Mak pulls Fasaki– kicking and screaming like a spoiled brat being dragged out of a candy store– to center-ring, pacifying him with a well-placed kidney punch! Looping his arm with Ejiro’s, Mak slams him to the canvas with a Russian leg sweep and floats over into a lateral press for ONE! TWO- No! Only a long one-count, as even with the slight spasms in Fasaki’s back, he wasn’t going to let Mak and Tom have the first two-count of the match! “Superhero Francis leads Fasaki around the ring like a toddler -” Just as Comet says those fateful words, Rule does his name an injustice, stalling out Mak’s offensive with a well planned thumb to the eye! “What a well-executed Greco-Roman thumb counter,” marvels Bobby Riley. “The technical skill is just baffling.” “Well, at least you saw it… I was certain your monitor would be out. Someone should bring that man to JUSTICE after that clear conflagration of the rules!” says Comet. Francis covers his face, staggering. Ejiro, still winded from the onslaught of the Franchise, wobbles away and goes down to one knee, admonished by the referee for his actions but not caring in the least. “I’m sure that’s exactly what he plans to do with Mak, Comet.” adds a snickering Riley. “He’ll bring him to Justice and then they’ll both kick the crap out of him!” Fasaki takes a quick look at Francis and swiftly gets to his feet, because he doesn’t like what he’s seen. Meanwhile, Mak has regained some sight, just in time to see Fasaki leap into the air and spring off a gamengiri! “Standing gamengiri by Ejiro Fasaki, who is on the offensive, as offensive as I find that,” says Comet. “And Robert; weren’t you the one parroting how Hebner won’t take any funny business tonight?” “I meant from Flesher, not Justice and Rule. Gotta focus on the problem children, Comet.” Francis rolls to his BUTT, sensing that he needs to get to his feet before Ejiro can completely take control. And just that quickly, Fasaki, still shaking off the cobwebs catches the Franchise with a Hennig-esque rolling neck snap, sending shockwaves down his spine! Having bought himself enough time to recover completely, Ejiro does what comes naturally, and taunts the crowd, leading to the now-common response. F-U FASAKI! F-U FASAKI! F-U FASAKI! F-U FASAKI! F-U FASAKI! F-U FASAKI! It’s music to his ears, and he shows the crowd just how much he enjoys it by picking Mak Francis up to nail him with a short elbow and stun him. Fasaki cinches in a facelock and grabs the tights for a snap suplex, but Mak sets his leg behind Fasaki’s and blocks the suplex attempt! Francis goes for a suplex of his own, but Ejiro, not to be outdone, lands an elbow to disorient him and tries again to snap Francis over- but no! The Franchise blocks one more time, this time stalling out Fasaki’s efforts almost halfway off the canvas! Ejiro sets Mak back down and endeavors to hit the suplex one more time… but the self-proclaimed Franchise does the unthinkable and… “He just thumbed Rule in the eye!” shouts Bobby Riley indignantly, but Mak’s concealed cheating goes unnoticed by Mark Hebner. “And he scores a vertical suplex after that!” he calls, as Francis rolls through and lands on Rule’s stomach in a mount position, before pounding the everlovin’ crap out of him with a series of right hands! “This is unconscionable!” “Mak taking it to Fasaki with mounted punches—and now, Superhero Francis cinches in a front headlock and drags the vile villain to his corner…” *SLAP* “And there’s the tag! The Superior Citizen is once again legal!” Flesher steps into the ring, nailing an elbow to Ejiro’s back as Francis holds him in position. The Franchise takes advantage of the five-count, holding Fasaki as Flesher administers several kicks to the ribs before Mark Hebner ushers him out of the ring. Flesher coasts into a backdrop suplex, lifting Fasaki off the mat and dropping him onto his shoulders. Rule, however, knows how to avoid being spiked on his head and takes the bump on the back. Flesher holds the bridge, and Mark Hebner counts ONE!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!! Once again, though, Fasaki kicks out comfortably before the three-count. He executes a backward roll, breaking up the bridge. Flesher rolls to his stomach and gets to his feet as Fasaki shakes off the cobwebs. Trying to seize an opportunity, Flesher steps forward to his Fasaki with a thrusting shotei! Fasaki eats the blow to the chin and staggers backwards… right into his own corner! William Hearford tags in and enters the ring, where he finds a confident Flesher waiting in an aggressive stance. “Tom Flesher knows he can take Judge William Hearford,” says Comet. “He’s recorded numerous wins over him, most notably at Genesis IV and last month at Ashes 2 Ashes!” “Fasaki, on the other hand, is 3-0 against Flesher,” notes Riley. “Yes, Bobby, that’s only been drilled into our heads every week for the past month.” “I’m just saying,” Riley says, “he’s better than Flesher, and he can prove it.” “Let’s wait on that one until the SWF World Championship is on the line,” says Comet dismissively. “He pinned him last week! One, two, three, right in the center! What the hell more do you want?!” Damn heel commentators and their “logic.” Hearford steps in, his back to Ejiro and Flesher’s to Mak. Flesher grabs him for a collar-and-elbow tie, but Hearford backs out. Flesher steps forward, trying to lock up again. Once again, Hearford shuffles backwards, and this time Flesher drives into him and grabs him hard at the neck and elbow! Before he knows what happened, though, Hearford takes another step back and circles around, shoving Flesher into the Justice and Rule corner! The crowd boos as Hearford chops him across the chest. *Smack-WHOOOOOOOO!* “William Hearford is showing excellent ring awareness,” says Bobby Riley. “He managed to bait the overaggressive Flesher into his own corner using very little effort on his part. Now, he can take advantage of having the opposition trapped in his corner and not have to worry about him tagging out, because Francis has to stay within the tag rope’s length of the corner if he wants the tag to count.” “Curse those tag ropes!” roars Comet. “Curse them and the vile inky blackness of injustice they bring!” “And curse Mak and the vile inky blackness of his skin!” Comet’s jaw drops. “Nah, I’m just kidding,” chuckles Riley. “Yeesh, the sponsors are so sensitive…” And somewhere, SWF No-Sells Kwanzaa changes its name. Hearford chops Flesher again. *Smack-WHOOOOOOOO!* and Flesher arches back, obviously in pain. He tries to fight his way out of the corner, but… *Smack-WHOOOOOOOO!* Hearford slams another knife-edge chop into his chest! Finally, ‘Judge Mental’ opts to move away from striking and focus more on wearing his opponent down. With that in mind, he forces a forearm across Flesher’s neck and leans forward, pinning the World Champion between his arm and the turnbuckle! Mark Hebner orders Hearford to break the hold, but the Judge ignores him! Hebner begins counting… ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! Finally, Hearford removes the forearm and holds his arms up, declaring his innocence. Hebner turns to admonish him, and Ejiro Fasaki wraps the tag rope around Flesher’s neck! The crowd boos and screams, shouting for Hebner to turn around, but to no avail! Ejiro pulls the rope back, choking the life out of Flesher as Hearford makes sure his chat with Hebner is long and drawn-out. Finally, Hearford nods and turns back to Ejiro, who dutifully releases Flesher. “That was disgusting!” says Comet indignantly. “How can you endorse that sort of sickening vileness?!” Flesher, holding his neck, staggers forward. He reaches out pathetically, as if he expects to reach Francis from the diagonally opposite corner. Hearford ends the spectacle with a stiff right hand, though, and silences the World Champion. He pulls Flesher a few feet out from the corner and slaps on an abdominal stretch! The fans boo as he stretches Flesher out, focusing on his ribs and back. Hebner drops down to one knee, asking Flesher if he wants to submit. Flesher shakes his head, and Hearford slyly reaches a hand out. Ejiro grabs the hand, and Hearford leans back to increase the pressure! Flesher screams in pain as the Tag Team Champions take advantage of the referee’s vision. Hebner stands up, and Ejiro quickly releases Hearford’s hand and conspicuously holds the tag rope up as if to say “I haven’t done anything wrong!” Hebner stares suspiciously, and then drops down once again to ask Flesher if he wants to give up. Once again, Ejiro reaches out and grabs Hearford’s hand, and Flesher screams out loud. “Can you believe this?” seethes Comet. “That official, bless him for the job he’s trying to do, is missing this enormous abuse of the rules!” “They’re doing everything they have available to them within the rules. They’re Justice and Rule, after all. How could you accuse them of being unjust or breaking the rules? Damn it, that’s just silly!” Hebner stands up again, but once again, Ejiro releases Hearford’s hand in time to avoid the official. However, Hearford takes a moment to readjust his balance, giving the World Champion a split second to throw him with a hiptoss! Hearford lands hard on his back, and Flesher starts crawling toward his corner! The crowd begins to cheer as Flesher gets closer and closer to Francis, who leans forward as far as he can! Flesher stretches out, and… FASAKI RUNS IN! Ejiro dives onto him with a double axehandle, stopping Flesher in his tracks! Hearford sits up and Ejiro drags Flesher all the way back to the Justice and Rule corner as the crowd groans with disappointment. “Tom Flesher makes an attempt to escape the vile, rulebreaking ways of the Tag Team Champions, but fails because one of them finds a vile way to interject himself into the match and break the rules!” Comet shakes his head sadly. “Disgusting.” “Incredible,” says Riley. “Fasaki’s got Hearford’s back! Francis doesn’t have Flesher’s!” “I wouldn’t go that far,” says Comet. “I don’t see Makkity Mak making any effort to help Flesher out,” says Riley. “How can you say they’re functioning as a team?” Hearford slams Flesher back into the corner and drives a knee into his stomach, stunning him long enough to tag Fasaki back in. Ejiro springs into the ring, clearly pleased to be able to lay the smack down on Flesher when he can’t defend himself. Fasaki squares off with Flesher, measuring him carefully, making sure he has his distance exactly correct… and then kicks Flesher with all his might right in the sack! The crowd immediately begins to boo. “What was that?” says Comet, angry, as Mark Hebner shoves Ejiro away from the corner and chastises him. “That kick was fair and square,” says Riley smugly. “Fairly hard, and squarely in the testicles.” As Hebner shouts at Ejiro for his utter disrespect for the rules, Hearford wraps the tag rope around Flesher’s neck. Lethargically, the Judge leans back, almost falling off the apron but supporting his weight by holding both ends of the tag rope and pulling back to choke the World Champion. “Oh, and now it’s Hearford’s turn? This man sickens me! I know he’s been disbarred, but isn’t there some higher punishment for a man of his ilk?” “Sure, if you want to call making money and winning titles punishment,” shrugs Riley. “You could do a lot worse.” Ejiro hangs his head, a sarcastic show of shame for the official, and then brushes him aside. Hearford catches his balance and removes the tag rope, allowing Ejiro free access to Flesher. Fasaki grabs Flesher by the wrist and whips him to an adjacent corner, where he follows him in and executes a picture-perfect elbowsmash! Flesher sags into the corner as Fasaki nails him with another elbow, this one just for show. He grabs Flesher’s left arm and spins, diving forward to pull him forward with a judo-style ippon shoulder throw! Flesher flops forward onto his back and sits up. Ejiro steps over the arm, applying a pumphandle armbar. Flesher struggles to escape, once again reaching impotently for his corner despite being too far to get even in range! Ejiro feels him straining to reach the corner and decides to take no chances. He begins slowly shuffling toward his own corner. “Once again, Justice and Rule have the advantage here,” says Riley. “They’re an experienced tag team and they’re used to working together, so they don’t have to work out the kinks like Flesher and Francis do.” “May I remind you,” says Comet, “that the East Coast Legacy was one of the most highly-touted…” “I didn’t hear them introduce the East Coast Legacy tonight, Comet. I heard them introduce two guys who have a grudge to settle.” Ejiro steps toward the corner, still threatening to snap Flesher’s arm off with the pumphandle armbar. The Judge reaches out and tags himself in, stepping into the ring and casually kicking Flesher in the back of the head. Flesher flops down, and Ejiro quickly slides his kneepad down. As the crowd boos, Fasaki jumps into the air and drops a knee down onto Flesher’s shoulder! Mark Hebner immediately orders him out of the ring, and as Fasaki argues, Hearford shouts at Hebner in support of his teammate! All the while, the crowd chants.... “F-U FASAKI! F-U FASAKI! F-U FASAKI!” “Wait a minute,” says Comet. “Which of them is watching…” “Neither of them is watching Flesher!” shouts Riley. “Flesher’s going to get away! No! This can’t be happening!” Flesher crawls toward the corner, trying once again to escape, but Hearford yanks him by the ankle and drops a knee into the small of his back! Flesher screams out loud as the Judge further pounds his back. He sits down firmly and locks on a camel clutch in the center of the ring! The crowd groans as Flesher grimaces in pain. “This is it!” snickers Riley. “Flesher’s locked in a camel clutch right in the middle! There’s nothing he can do to escape it! He’s gonna have to tap out!” Flesher winces, trying to hold out as long as he can… but Mak Francis makes things easy by charging into the ring and nailing Hearford with a Yakuza kick! The crowd cheers as the Franchise breaks up the hold, but Mark Hebner shoves him back, ushering him out of the ring. Mak tries to stay in the ring, but his distraction of the official allows Ejiro Fasaki to jump into the ring and start stomping Flesher! Hearford stands up and joins in the stomping as Hebner ushers the frustrated Francis back out. Mak moves out, angry, as Fasaki takes Hearford’s place in the ring. “And what we have there is a bait and switch,” says Comet. “Justice exited, and Rule takes over.” “Hey, it’s only cheating if you get caught,” says Riley. Ejiro grabs Flesher and pulls him to his feet. As the stunned Superior One tries to regain his senses, Ejiro whips him to the ropes. Flesher bounces off, and Ejiro steps in to nail him with a bionic elbow! Flesher crumbles to the mat, and Ejiro covers him for ONE!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!! KICKOUT!!!!!!!! “The Superior Citizen kicks out after a bionic elbowsmash, but things do not look good for the home team,” says Comet gravely. “Home team? We’re in Wyoming!” “Wyoming is on the East Coast of something.” Ejiro shakes his head, surprised, but quickly recovers. He pulls Flesher up and hits another Irish whip, this one sending him into the Justice and Rule corner. As he crashes chest-first into the buckles, William Hearford grabs his arms to keep him from turning around. Ejiro swaggers in and plants a stiff kick into the small of Flesher’s back! Mark Hebner admonishes Hearford to release Flesher, but the Judge refuses, and Hebner is forced to administer the five-count. As he counts, Ejiro continues throwing kicks into Flesher’s back. Hebner counts, “FOUR!” and Hearford releases Flesher’s arms. He reaches over and tags Ejiro, who steps out of the ring and grabs Flesher’s arms the same way. Hearford continues the assault as Hebner counts once again. As he reaches five, again, Ejiro releases him. Fluidly, Hearford grabs Flesher around the waist and arches backwards, nailing the World Champion with a German suplex! He bridges, holding Flesher for ONE!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THREE- NO!!!!!!!!!!!!! Flesher rolls through, once again avoiding the pin. Hearford, however, has plans to finish off the Superior World Champion. He lifts Flesher up and crosses his arms over his stomach, a bellwether of the deadly straitjacket suplex! The crowd boos as Ejiro bounces on the bottom rope, trying to get them to applaud along with him. Hearford jacks Flesher up… but Tom somersaults forward, executing a picture-perfect granby roll to counter the suplex! He rolls to his feet as Hearford loses his grip, and Tom dives forward… “Can he do it?” says Comet with bated breath. “Can Tom Flesher…” “… tag out to his buddy and skip out on the hard part once again?” *SLAP* The crowd explodes as Mak Francis makes the tag!!!!!!!!! He roars into the ring, catching Hearford as he charges with a kneelift that sends the Judge head-over-heels into a somersault! Ejiro Fasaki runs in to help his partner, but Mak catches him with a bearhug and arches effortlessly back with a Railgun suplex! He rolls over and jumps to his feet as Hearford sprints toward him, looking for his deadly lariat! Francis ducks, though, and nails Hearford in the back of the head with a superkick that ends with the Judge slumping in the corner! Francis turns around and sees Fasaki charging at him. Mak hits an aggressive duck-under and spins around, catching the World Champion’s nemesis with an absolutely Filthy German suplex! He releases Ejiro at the height of the throw, and Ejiro lands hard on his upper back and shoulders, rolling through onto his stomach! On a roll, Francis grabs the stunned Judge Hearford by the arm and whips him to the ropes… where Tom Flesher pulls the top rope down! The crowd applauds as Hearford tumbles over the top rope and to the floor! “Filthy as a scheissefilm! Citizen Francis makes the save and absolutely destroys both Justice and Rule like a house of fire!” Comet cheers Francis on from the sidelines, and continues, “That ought to show Justice!” Mak moves over to Ejiro, who starts to recover from the shock of the Filthy German. Mak capitalizes on the few extra seconds, though, by lifting Ejiro and shoving him like a ragdoll into Flesher’s corner. He unleashes a sickening knife-edge chop… *Smack-WHOOOOOOOO!* that not only pops the crowd but makes Ejiro’s whole body shudder! Francis follows it up with another… *Smack-WHOOOOOOOO!* and another…. *Smack-WHOOOOOOOO!* and another! *Smack-WHOOOOOOOO!* As Francis finishes up the last chop, William Hearford starts to get to his feet, but the refreshed Tom Flesher dives off the apron and executes a short-range somersault, nailing his opponent with a diving senton! Hearford hits the concrete hard, and Flesher rolls through, shaking off the impact as the adrenaline rushes through his body! He jumps up, nailing Hearford with a stomp to the sternum before he climbs back onto the apron! “Tom Flesher is pulling his weight despite the beating he’s taken at the hands of Justice and Rule,” shills Comet. “And Mak Francis, a picture of vim and vigor, is destroying Ejiro Fasaki! Perhaps he’s sending a message to HVT!” “Yeah, and that message is ‘I can kick anyone’s ass if I outweigh them by 20 pounds.’ Face it, Comet, Mak’s never gonna be able to get Thugg to tap out. It’s pointless to even try.” Mak goes for another knife-edge chop, but Ejiro catches the arm! In desperation, he pushes forward, going for a judo-style ippon shoulder throw. He dives forward, but Mak blocks the throw by grabbing onto the top rope and letting Fasaki’s grip slip off his arm! As Fasaki loses his balance, Francis drops down and locks on a full nelson, then jacks Fasaki up off the mat! Flesher pumps his fist in the air, firing up the crowd as Mak arches back, slamming Fasaki head-first to the mat with a dragon suplex! He rolls through, switches his grip and immediately rolls into the Cattle Mutilation! “BITTERSWEET!” shouts Comet. “And this match truly shall come to a bittersweet end for Justice and Rule, for despite the fact that they spent the majority getting their licks in on Tom Flesher, there simply isn’t any way to escape this one!” Flesher, instead of letting the hold complete, slides into the ring. He springs off the ropes, dropping a headbutt into Ejiro Fasaki’s back! Francis feels Fasaki’s convulsions and releases the hold, looking up at Flesher with a look of confusion… almost betrayal. Until Flesher smirks and points to the top rope. The crowd explodes as Francis scales the cornerpost! Flesher grabs Fasaki in a front facelock and yanks him to his feet, tightening the grip until he ducks his head under Ejiro’s shoulder! He lifts Ejiro off the mat and holds him upside down, stalling! As he stalls, William Hearford climbs onto the apron! He moves toward Mak, hoping to throw the Franchise off the top rope and prevent the inevitable finish… but Mak kicks him away! Two kicks fail, but a third nails Hearford in the head, and he falls to the floor with a splat! “Hearford’s not very good at that,” says Comet frankly. After what seems like an eternity, Flesher falls to the mat, pulverizing Fasaki’s head with a brainbuster! From the top, Mak shouts, “EAST COAST!” He springs off the rope, bringing his knees and elbows together as the crowd responds with… “FUCK YOU, FASAKI!” and goes wild! Mak extends his body, slamming into the prone Fasaki with a frog splash! Mak rolls off, holding his ribs from the impact of the move, but Tom Flesher rolls onto Fasaki and hooks the leg! “Flesher goes for the cover!” shouts Comet. “Is this it? Will the East Coast FU give the World Champion his first victory over Ejiro Fasaki?!” “NO!” cries Riley. “No, he doesn’t deserve it! Francis did all the work! This can’t be happening!” Mark Hebner counts ONE!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!! THREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DING DING DING!!!!! Flesher stands up, grabbing Francis by the wrist and helping him to his feet. “The winners of this match… MAK FRANCIS AND TOM FLESHER!!!!!!!!!” Flesher and Francis raise their arms into the air as the fans applaud. Ejiro, meanwhile, rolls out of the ring. Flesher and Francis stay in the ring, and Mark Hebner hands Flesher his World Heavyweight Title belt. Tom wraps it around his waist, showing how important it is to him. “Tom Flesher scores the important moral victory over Ejiro Fasaki tonight,” says Cyclone Comet. “With the help of Mak Francis, he scores a pin in the center of the ring over Ejiro with the East Coast FU, and the former East Coast Legacy reunites for one night only to put Justice and Rule down for the count!” “Let’s see them do it when the titles are on the line!” grumbles Riley. “Come on, we all know this wasn’t the best they could have done! It’s Justice, for god’s sake! It’s Rule! You don’t think they’d roll over this easy when the titles are on the line?!” “And you don’t think Flesher will take the pin lying down when Ejiro has a title shot, do you?” “That’s different!” “Sure it is, Robert, but as it stands, Tom Flesher breaks Ejiro Fasaki’s streak! He pins Ejiro in the ring and builds momentum going into the SWF’s holiday extravaganza, where Fasaki will get his shot! We’ll see you then, but until Sunday, I am Cyclone Comet, and for Bobby Riley, we’d like to wish you a merry Christmas and many blessings in the New Year!” “Ah, speak for yourself.” === SWF Storm Special Edition, December 10, 2003. © White Apple Productions. All rights reserved. The Smarks Wrestling Federation: “Raising workrate by typing faster.”

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

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

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

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