Kaertos

I have had exactly three entrance themes, four if you count the Carnival theme. "Welcome to the Jungle" - Guns n Roses: My original theme way back in the IGNJL. I would have used it for a long time except neilsen of the Jungle was using it and asked nicely for me to change it, as it was far more appropriate for his character than mine. I agreed and changed it to... "Born Bad" - Gone Jackals: My longest lived entrance. Started in the JL, used it all the way through my WF career and it theoretically played on my "pre-television" entrances as an announcer. "Go Home" - Blessid Union of Souls: My new entrance is a baseball song, I thought it would be nice to change my music after like three years...

I ran over to the old IGNWF boards and found us a new appearee... check the list.

To be fair, very few of my "must-see" shows I actually watch when they are on. DVR is a wonderful thing...

As 1/3 of SWF CC, I'd have to say that a OatToast / SWF crossover show would be great, and I think I might have just the spot for it. Every Christmas we have a holiday themed PPV, but it is volunteer only and usually filled with things like the "Three Wise Men Match" and the infamous "Wreck the Malls Match". I would obviously have to talk to the other 2/3 of CC, but that seems like a great place for our two Feds to do a joint show.

Raw Smackdown Confidential Good Eats Who's Line is it Anyway? And, as embarrassing as it is... Kim Possible Trading Spaces

Actually G, I always pictured you as the illegitimate love child of Steve Buscemi and Marty Feldman.

I ask for: One Gallon of Chipotle Salsa Three cases of the best available cervesa Six bottles of good, gold tequila Several bags of corn tortillas, deep fried and lightly salted Two decks of "Visit Mexico City" playing cards

This is a load. It has been said over and over that no new music would be placed into the original movies. Besides, some of these changes are just silly, and most of them directly contradict things Lucasfilm has said about the releases.

I have one that I've been curious about, but never curious enough to investigate oin my own... Who invented the steadicam and what was the first real "Hollywood" movie it was used in?

Just thought I'd mention a couple of things and pimp out the SWF a little more... - Match length - We don't have a minimum required word count. I thin a lot of people come by and see that on our cards and think, "Damn! I can't write 6000 words every five or six days." And I can't blame them. Those are the maximum word counts that we will accept. We value quality over quantity, and I have always been of the opinion that a great 3000 word match will beat an average 6000 word match every time. The only exception is the PPV's which we have every 6 weeks or so. There are no word limits there, but we give you nearly a full week to write them. - Schedule - As the appointed schedule keeper of the SWF, I can assure you that we have tweaked the schedule to allow the maximum amount of time between shows and still have a cohesive story to tell. The nice part is that our bookers are very open to suggestions about matches and if you know in advance you aren't going to be able to write for a show, tell us and you are not booked. Right now one of our ME guys is going on a "no-Lockdown" schedule that will give him a little time off between gigs (so to speak). - Our biggest Pay-Per-View of the year is coming up on Sunday. You can get a look at the card right here. Check it out and swing by to read the show on Sunday night / Monday. This looks to be one of the best shows we've ever put on.

King said it was Roo, I think she hosts Afterburn with Josh.

I'm glad someone mentioned the Stevens / Edwin retirement match. I'd have to nominate one of the classic Midnight Carnival Stables Title Defenses. Perhaps the one where the belt was retired against Evil Inc.. Another big favorite from back in the day would be, I think this is the right combo anyways, The Fallen (Angelous and Molock) v. Y2Chris ver. One (Chris Storm and Chris Wilson, I believe). The first CF match where PDS won. And honestly, for some really new school stuff, the TBS v. Tom title match from two shows back.

SWF Smarkdown 9-22-2003 LIVE from the SOLD-OUT Fleet Center in Boston, Massachusetts All matches due by 11:00 PM Send to: Edwin MacPhisto Non-Title, Special Guest Referee Match WildChild v. Xero Special referee - Johnny "The Barracuda" Dangerous After the brutal contect with Crane on Lockdown, WC asked for the night off to heal his wounds and prepare for Genesis IV. But what did King do? He scheduled him against one of the legends of the SWF (although recently he has been down on his luck) and stacked the deck against him bay adding his arch-nemesis The Barracuda into the mix. Rules: Johnny is the ref, so it is up to him how strict the rules are. It is scheduled as a standard singles match. As per usual, Johnny may write a match if he wishes, but it is not required. Word Limit: 4000 Send to: Edwin MacPhisto Singles Match Dante Crane v. Show One half of the Tag Champions takes on one of the challengers at G4. Tensions are high... Rules: Standard singles match Word Limit: 4000 Send to: Grand Slam Singles Match "TNT" Taylor Nicholas Thompson v. Xcalibur Just a little tune-up for DaBomb going into G4. But Xcalibur is looking to make an impact and find his way into the G4 lineup, so TNT had better watch out. Add in the fact that Danny Williams will be backstage and this is a potential powder keg! Rules: Standard singles match Word Limit: 4500 Send to: chirs3 Singles Match Crow v. Quiz The other half of the Tag Team equation. Both of these guys are looking to wear down their opponent so they will not be at their best in less than a week when the title is on the line. Rules: Standard singles match Word Limit: 4500 Send to: Longdogger_Pete Non-Title Singles Match Ejiro Fasaki v. Dace Night Word has leaked onto the Internet that Ejiro just might be defending his U.S. Title against the Maori Badass, Va'aiga. So it makes sense that his tag partner, the master of horrorcore, Dace Night, would want to soften up the Champ. But Ejiro has been one of the hottest guys around and this won;t exactly be a walk in the park for either man... Rules: Standard Singles Match Word Limit: 5000 Send to: Grand Slam Non-Title Singles Match "The Franchise" Mak Francis v. John "The Sinner" Duran Might Mak be looking past the formidable Duran towards his ICTV Title match at Genesis with the ever-able Mr. Blackwell? If that is the case, he might want to focus, because Duran isn't happy about being considered a "warm-up match". Here is his chance to prove he can run in the eliet ICTV Division. Rules: Standard singles match Word Limit: 5000 Send to: chirs3 Contract Signing Tom Flesher and Judge "Mental" sign the contract for the main event at Genesis IV. The red carpet will be in use... what could possibly go wrong? Tag Team Match The Magnificent Seven ("The Superior One" Tom Flesher & Judge "Mental" William Hearford III) v. The Boston Strangler and Va'aiga Tensions will be high in this match. How will TBS react to being back in the ring with the man whole stole his Title away last week? Will Judge & Tom be able to co-exist less than a week from the biggest match in their careers? And will va'aiga be looking to make a statement concerning his ability to run with the big boys in the SWF Main Event? Only time will tell boys and girls... Rules: Standard tag rules Word Limit: 6000 Send to: Edwin MacPhisto

And the camera comes back to the cheering Saavis center, already riled up for the Main Event! A long pan across the arena before a graphic comes up saying “GENESIS TOURNAMENT FINALS: TWO FALLS MATCH” with pictures of a confident Michael Craven and a stoic Judge Hearford. We quickly zoom down to the announcer’s table, where an ecstatic Bobbie Riley and an oddly solemn Cyclone Comet await us. “Hello there, fans,” chimes in Riley, “We are back to SWF Lockdown, where we are about to watch the winner of the Genesis Tournament be crowned!” “Indeed. It shall be a grim year for the fans watching Genesis,” comments Comet, obviously not pleased with the situation, “Tom Flesher, Michael Craven, and the Judge are all horrid villains! How can the SWF allow this to happen?” “They didn’t allow anything!” strikes Riley, “These guys fought tooth and nail to the top of the ladder, and damned if they didn’t deserve it!” “You mean they CHEATED to the top of the ladder,” cites Comet, “Craven didn’t even eliminate Danny Williams to make it here, and Hearford used trickery and bribery to eliminate CIA and Apostle! This isn’t a match of champions, this is a match of devious, conniving men! If you gave me one chance, I’d take down that terrible triumvirate in a-“ “You aren’t taking down anything, masked moron,” says Riley, pulling a rising Comet down into his seat, “Now sit down and shut up. Funyon is in the ring and the match is about to begin.” “Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to tonight’s MAAAAAAAAAIN EVENT!” bellows Funyon to a huge pop, “Tonight’s match is for the MAIN EVENT SPOT AT GEEENEEESIS! To win, the winner of the loser’s bracket will need two falls, and the winner of the winner’s bracket will only need one fall. Now entering first…” The opening to Rage Against the Machine’s “Testify” begins to play as the crowd begins let loose with some vicious heat. The intro reaches the peak of its crescendo… “NOW TESTIFY!” And skips to mid-song as a trio of red pyros launch up, signaling the entrance of the man himself. He walks onto the stage, not even acknowledging the yells and screams at him. He has a silent intensity about him; he is obviously concentrating on getting that shot at Genesis. “Now entering the ring, weighing in at 242 pounds and hailing from Royal Oak, Michigan, he is the winner of the Loser’s bracket. He is THE JUDGE, WILLIAM HEAAAAAARFOOOORD!” The old man slides into the ring, and walks over to his turnbuckle to do his normal ritual of stretching out as the lights go down again for the next man… “King of My World” by Saliva comes in through the speakers as the crowd boos even before they get sight of him. First strobe lights come on, transitioning to a pale blue light as “The King of Nightmares” Michael Craven walks out onto the ramp. As he walks into the light a huge grin is visible on his face, and he spins around with his arms in the air, signaling a massive pyrotechnic burst from the sides of the stage. Through the smoke he spins around once more before walking down to the stage. “Now entering the ring, weighing in at 280 pounds and hailing from Tampa Bay, Florida, he is the UNDEFEATED winner of the winner’s bracket. He is MICHAEL CRAAAAAAAVEN!” He gets up to the apron and moves to the nearest turnbuckle to soak up some more boos before hoping into the ring. “Honestly, while I like Judge I gotta pick Craven here,” states Riley as Mike stretches his neck, “He’s got the momentum, motivation, and confidence right now, all three of which are essential to winning. Hearford may get one fall, but against Craven he can’t get two.” “Maybe, but Craven has allowing his ego to control his actions more and more as of late,” notes Comet as Kivell looks at both men to make sure they’re ready, “And that may just be enough of a weakness for a grizzled and focused man like Hearford to exploit.” *DING DING DING* The match is on, with Hearford cautiously stepping out of his corner, while Craven cockily strides out of his. The only undefeated man in the whole tournament makes the first move, rushing into a lockup to try and catch Hearford off guard. His size allows him to gain the early advantage, swinging around his arm for a headlock. But Hearford quickly is able to pry off Craven’s arm and pull it ‘round behind him for a hammerlock. The Judge torques the hold a bit before Craven ducks under to reverse the hold on him. Pushing him away to get some room, Craven almost immediately hammers the stumbling Judge with a hard forearm shot to the back of the head, putting Hearford briefly down on the mat. Hearford rolls onto his back, allowing Craven a chance to get on a grounded Headlock, but the old man quickly brings his legs up, scissoring around Craven’s own head. Releasing the headlock, Craven kicks his body out with enough force to get his head out of the scissor, allowing both men to rise to off the mat. The crowd doesn’t give applause, though; the crowd likes neither man enough to give them any praise at this point. “Not bad on Craven’s part,” says Riley, “He nearly took it to the Judge on the mat in that last sequence. He’s really changed a lot since almost 8 months ago.” “Yes, sacrificing his family, morals, and fanbase in the pursuit of a mere object! He’s changed a lot, but for the worst!” “For the worst?! HA!” laughs Bobbie as the Judge is the first to strike this time, going for a two-legged takedown, “The guy has had few reigns with the US Title, an ICTV Title shot, and now a shot at the World at Genesis. And you say he hasn’t improved?!” Craven braces himself and blocks the takedown, quickly putting on a front facelock. He gives Hearford a pat on the back before falling backwards and drilling Hearford’s head into the ground with a DDT! Justice holds his cranium for a moment while Craven gets back up, giving the old man a few sharp stomps to the stomach and chest before Hearford rolls to the side and gets up on his own. Craven, though, impetuously continues his assault, nailing Hearford almost immediately with a hard forearm to the face. The Judge stumbles backwards as forearm after forearm after forearm connects with his nose until he’s backed up against the ropes. He grabs Hearford’s wrist for a whip, but the old man keeps his feet glued to the canvas, reversing the toss on Craven. Rushing at the ropes, Craven comes off with even more momentum, and comes back with a forearm raised for his patented smash… *…* But the Judge ducks under it instinctively, allowing Craven to bounce off the other side. Hearford quickly hits the mat, scissoring Michael’s feet to bring him to the ground with a drop toe hold! The Judge quickly keeps one of the feet scissored as shifts over next to Craven and tries to put on a chinlock. “STF attempt!” calls CC as the Judge struggles to try and lock his hands around Craven’s face, but he just refuses to let it happen. It doesn’t take too long before Hearford gives up on the hold. “A nice transition by Judge, admittedly,” Riley says as the two get back up, Craven shaking out his previously trapped leg, “But Craven managed to block it. If he can keep shutting down his wear-down submissions like that Justice won’t stand a chance.” The two square off again, the Judge down in his grappler stance while Craven stands tall with an arm leveled out at the veteran. Hearford goes in for a lockup… *WHACK* … But instead he receives a hard forearm to the face. Craven follows up with a few more blows before pulling Hearford in and nailing him with a massive European Uppercut! The Judge spins around with the force of the blow, allowing the King of Nightmares to attempt to put the old man in dreamland with a Sleeper Hold! “Sleeper Hold! The Judge can’t get a grip on Craven, but Mike has just gotten something on Justice!” The Judge strains to try and break Craven’s hold, but the King of Nightmares seems determined to keep his suffocating grip locked on. Thinking fast, Hearford begins to run towards the turnbuckle. Mike follows behind, keeping the sleeper on as the Judge steps up on the first buckle, the second buckle, and finally he leaps backwards, causing Craven to land on his back as the Judge ends up on his feet, pinning him to the mat while the hold is still applied! ONE! TW-And Craven quickly lets go of the hold. The Judge falls back, trying to make up some lost oxygen. “A surprising counter from the Judge,” notes Comet, “In-JUSTICE seems to have a way of getting out of sticky spots.” Hearford gets up to his feet, a little stunned, and Craven comes forwards, nailing him with a forearm again! “Craven’s trying to keep the Judge off-balance with all these strikes,” smartly remarks Bobbie, “If Mike can keep doing that while hitting some of his patented power moves, the Judge won’t even have a chance to get one fall.” But as Craven goes for another shot, the Judge blocks it! He pushes it to the side as he winds up and nails a knife-edged chop right across Craven’s chest! WHOO! CHOP! WHOO! CHOP! WHOO! The Judge fights back with grim determination, and as Craven stumbles backwards, allowing Justice to raise up his arm and nail Craven with a huge lariat! The crowd boos as Craven hits the mat hard, and the Judge takes the chance to grab his leg and twists it into a Boston Crab. The King of Nightmares grits his teeth as his thigh and knee are hyper-extended. “The Judge is already using one of his many sadistic submissions on the downed Craven,” quips Cyclone Comet, “One has to wonder how someone who was once a righteous defender of JUSTICE could turn into such a debauched defender of dastardly deeds.” “He already told us! The fans turned on him and he’s just showing them wrong.” Gritting his teeth, Craven quickly begins making his way towards the ropes. Hearford can’t do too much to stop him. He moves, foot by foot, until he reaches out to the ropes, grabbing on and sparking a quick 5 count. The Judge breaks it quickly, but tries pulling Craven out to the middle of the ring. That doesn’t work out, though, as the King of Nightmares quickly brings up a boot into the Judge’s face, kicking him away from his leg. As Hearford stumbles back, Craven gets a chance to get up to his feet, shaking off some of the soreness in his leg. The Judge recovers, and he moves in close for another lock up and gets it before Craven can fire back. He maneuvers in behind the big man, looking for maybe a German Suplex, but he can’t get the heavy man off the ground quick enough. Instead, Craven switches up with him, cinching a waistlock himself. He begins to lift the Judge up into the air, but Justice breaks the hold, rolling forwards while hooking his legs under Craven’s arms for a Prawn Hold! ONE! TWO! T-No! Craven kicks out strong, much to the dismay of the crowd. “Another pin attempt by the Judge,” says Comet, “You know, that’s a big psychological advantage there. It makes the other man feel as though he has to respond.” “Don’t think so here,” Riley replies as Craven gets up with a smirk, “The Judge is doing a marathon. He can make all the attempts he wants, but the pressure will still be on him. Meanwhile, Craven is slowly wearing him down. Even if the Judge gets one pinfall, he will probably be way too tired to get a second.” “But at the rate pinfalls are going, in-JUSTICE~! has gotten in a few attempt at a surprise pin. While he may be evil, he’s evil and experienced, and I’m that he’s trying to get a flash pin to lessen the load on him a bit.” The Judge gets back up to his feet, not showing any signs of frustration, while Craven still wears a cocky smirk, knowing that the Judge is trying to get a quick pin on him and that he won’t get it. Coming in with his arm ready, Craven tries to get a forearm blow, but Hearford sees it coming from a mile away, blocking it and nailing one of his own in the face of King of Nightmares! He hits another and another… but not a fourth as Craven quickly reaches across to the old man’s face and rips his hands to opposite sides! Kivell instantly comes over, yelling a warning to Mike. He doesn’t acknowledge it, though, as moves forwards, hitting the Judge backwards into the ropes with his forearm blows before whipping him to the other side! Pushing back into the ropes himself, Craven runs towards the middle of the ring almost on a collision course with Hearford... *SMASH* And plows through him with a huge forearm smash! The Judge hits the mat almost head-first as Craven takes a few moments to raise his arms, soaking up some boos from the crowd. “Detestable,” says Comet with obvious disgust, “The man draws joy from the hate of his fellow man like a leech draws blood. Truly a villain of the basest kind.” “Yeah, that’s why he’s fast becoming one of my favorite wrestlers today.” He goes over towards the downed Judge, but rather than pinning him he instead pulls the old man up to his feet. He quickly scoops him up in fireman’s carry fashion, but he presses him up on his hands for a Gorilla Press! He holds him there for a few seconds, the crowd quiet vocal in their hate before he slams him down to the mat with a Power Slam! He shifts over to make a cover… ONE! TWO! T-And a solid kickout there by the Judge. Craven shrugs at the official, not too surprised that didn’t put him away. He pulls the Judge back up to his feet and delivers a hard knee to the gut. As the Judge doubles over, Craven takes a second to line himself up before moving back against the ropes, coming towards Judge as he raises up his leg… to miss the axe kick! The Judge swings out of the way of the kick, and Mike turns around to face him Justice immediately fires off a hard kick right to the stomach of the King of Nightmares. With Craven stunned he grabs him by the wrist and tosses him at the ropes, and Hearford barely leaps off the mat as he nails him with a dropkick to the knee! Craven is taken right off his feet and left holding his leg while the Judge gets back up off the mat a bit slower than before. He moves over to Craven, giving him a few sharp boots to the chest and stomach before grabbing him by the leg. Trying to pull his leg away, Mike tries to push Hearford off his foot with his open leg, but Justice just isn’t moving. He hits it Craven’s knee with a sharp elbow, send a small jolt of pain into his body and allowing Hearford to spin the leg around his own and drop backwards into a Figure Four Leglock unimpeded! “Another leg submission by the Judge!” cries out Comet as Craven winches in pain, “Hearford has shown who the dominant evil on the mat is.” “Yeah, he’s really going after the legs there. A good choice, but Craven has been hitting his impact offense on the Judge, which will kill your whole body in the long run. Gotta think ahead, Comet.” Craven strains as he tries to think of a way out of the hold, and he sits up, trying to flip the hold over. But the Judge sits up as well, reaching across and raking the face of Craven viciously! “Sweet Merciful GOdrea! Did you see what the Judge just did?” “Yes, actually, and gotta give him some praise for thinking up an inventive counter there, and he had the guts to do it right in front of the ref.” The crowd boos at the unsportsmanlike action as Kivell yells Hearford a warning, but the old man doesn’t seem to notice it as he focuses on keeping the hold on Mike. The King of Nightmares grimaces and this time he begins pulling himself towards the nearby ropes and slowly but surely he gets within an arms reach! Matty tells the Judge to break the hold, but Hearford holds on, now determined to get every second of pain he can get out of the hold. ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FI-And Justice lifts his leg off of Mike’s, releasing the King of Nightmares from the painful hold. Craven begins getting up, but now his step has a small but noticeable limp; Hearford’s work is starting to show through. He goes over towards the recovering Craven, quickly grabbing his leg and pulling it into the air. Instead of the Judge getting a single-leg takedown, Mike responds, leaping up with his standing leg and nailing the Judge right in the back of the head with an Enzuigiri! The Judge drops like a redwood to the mat as Craven takes a second to rest his leg as Hearford holds the back of his head in pain. Feeling a little more rested and a lot more confident, Craven goes back to work on the Judge. He pulls up the dazed smaller man and quickly cinches a waistlock on him. Still stunned, Craven doesn’t have much trouble in bringing him up and over the top for a German Suplex! The Judge crashes into the ground hard, but Mike keeps on the waistlock, standing him up again and leaning back for another German Suplex! This time Craven bridges himself out, holding onto the pin for a count! ONE! TWO! TH-And the Judge kicks out of the bridge, falling to the mat on his belly. The King of Nightmares gets back up first, a small frown on his face after the Judge kicked out of that maneuver. ”Wow! Some great impact offense from Craven there,” says Riley, “If the Judge keeps putting up this feeble fight, he’s gonna find himself in a lot of trouble soon.” Craven pulls up the Judge again, nailing him with a hard forearm to the head to keep him off balance. He grabs him by the wrist and whips him at the at the ropes hard, and as Justice rebounds Craven grabs him by the arm with a Fujiwara Takedown! But he’s not done there, using the Fujiwara as a transition for the dreaded Crossface! He wraps his arms around the Judge’s face, putting pressure on the Judge’s neck and shoulder as he yells out in pain. Craven gives a sadistic smile as he leans back, but he fails to notice the Judge shifting legs and body to the side. Using his trapped arm to hold onto both of Craven’s legs, Hearford flips the hold onto its side with his legs, bridging out for an amazing roll-up reversal! The crowd gives a small pop for the inventiveness of the counter as Kivell hits the mat! ONE! TWO! THRNO! Craven kicks out, sparking some boos from the crowd. “The Judge reverses one of Craven’s own holds into a rollup, and yet again he almost gets another flash pin,” notes Comet, “He’s not only evil, but he’s experienced and evil, making him a far larger threat.” The Judge lies on the ground for a moment to catch a rest, allowing an angered Craven to get up first. Obviously not happy that someone reversed on of his patented submission holds, the King of Nightmare’s frown grows a little more as he pushes off the ground, still showing a bit of that limp from earlier. Pulling the Judge back up to his feet, he locks up with him, quickly beginning to push him backwards. But Hearford isn’t about to be pushed around, and he quickly moves in close and delivers a hidden knee right to Mike’s gonads! The fans boos at the underhanded tactic while the Judge moves to the side and folds up Mikes’ knee across his own, lifting him up and bringing him down in a crushing Kneebreaker! Craven falls to the ground as the Judge begins to stomp away at the knee, getting in a few good shots while Mike rolls out to bail the ring. The Judge stays in as Craven slowly gets back up to his feet outside, limping a little more and very unhappy at the moment. He takes a few seconds cursing under his breath before rolling back in and getting up his feet to face off against Justice. “Cravens’ confidence turning more and more into frustration,” says Comet as Craven tries to move in for a lockup, “I think it’s clear he underestimated his bitter foe and now his ego is beginning to bruise like the bad apple he is.” The King of Nightmares moves forwards, trying to get his hands on the Judge, but the old man ducks under his attempt, cinching a waistlock. Craven throws back a few rash elbows to try and get Hearford off his back, but they just don’t connect as Justice manages to stay out of reach of the larger man. The old man tries to pull him up, but Mike is still strong enough to block, so the Judge switches it up. Instead of trying to pull him over, he thrusts him back to the ground for a waistlock takedown! His face hitting the mat hard, Craven feels the Judge pulling up his leg, and he quickly brings his other leg up into the stomach of Justice, hitting him with a mule kick! Hearford is pushed back against the ropes, but he quickly recovers as Craven tries to stand up, floating over top to cinch a front headlock to keep control of the match. Craven begins to push off the ground, getting his feet on the mat only a few seconds after the Judge locks on the headlock. Backing up against the ropes, he gets enough power to toss the Judge off his head and fling him at the other side of the ring. Hitting the ropes and coming back, Hearford lines up a big lariat to take Craven down to the mat again with, but Mike manages to duck under it, catching the Judge right under the arms with a Full Nelson! Hearford struggles to break it, but he just can’t seem to do it, allowing the King of Nightmares to lift him up and plant his face into the mat with a Full Nelson Front Slam! “Nightfall Slam!” shills Bobbie, “That thing can knock a man unconscious! I wouldn’t be surprised if the Judge had a broken nose after that one.” “Indeed, a truly hate-filled move,” says Comet as Craven stands over the downed Judge for a moment, and instead of pinning him he instead brandishes a scowl and drags him towards the nearest corner. “What’s this? After something like that, he’d be a fool not to cover…” “Wrong, he’s just gonna finish this thing once and for all,” says Bobbie as Craven begins to scale the turnbuckle. “But after all that legwork? In all honesty, this man is going to lawn dart himself again just like he did on Justice’s partner, Ejiro!” The King of Nightmares slowly gets to the top of the corner and turns around, adjusting himself to face Hearford. He takes a second to make sure his bad leg is steady, and notices all of the boos being thrown down on him. He gives a little cutthroat motion with his hand just for the crowd, as if to say “Hey, it doesn’t matter what you say ‘cause it’s over now.” He looks down at Hearford, crouches down low, and leaps up high into the air! The motion is perfect and the height is incredible despite the bad leg as Craven glides to through the air as time seems to slow down to a crawl. Flashbulbs from cameras all across the arena go off all across the arena as he makes full rotation, turning a little more as he gets closer to the ground to complete the kneedrop… *CRASH* “NO! Hearford moved! Hearford moved!” cries Comet in surprise and disbelief as 280 pound man’s knee is the first to impact, his knees taking almost the full force of the fall. The King of Nightmares rolls on the ground, clutching his knees now, obviously in severe pain. He shouts “Ahhh, Christ! Damn it! Ahhh!” as the ref comes over and asks if he wants to stop the match and leave, but Mike vigorously shakes his head. Meanwhile the Judge rolls over few more times to get some distance between him in Craven, still tired but in far better condition than the King of Nightmares. “It looks as though Craven’s Kingdom has come crashing down to reality! He took a risk with his bad legs on trying to end it early and now he’s paying for it,” quips Comet, “Let’s get a look at it through the PepsiMAX-IMUM Impact Replay!” “The what?! You have your own replay now?” *****PEPSIMAX-IMUM IMPACT REPLAY***** He gives a little cutthroat motion with his hand just for the crowd, as if to say “Hey, it doesn’t matter what you say ‘cause it’s over now.” He looks down at Hearford, crouches down low, and leaps up high into the air! The motion is perfect and the height is incredible despite the bad leg as Craven glides to through the air as time seems to slow down to a crawl. Flashbulbs from cameras all across the arena go off all across the arena as he makes full rotation, turning a little more as he gets closer to the ground to complete the kneedrop… But as he comes to the canvas, the Judge rolls right to his side leaving Craven to connect with the canvas in a catastrophic collision! *****END REPLAY***** “By Thoth, he’s lucky to still have his legs after that!” says Comet as the Judge begins to push off the ground. “Come on, Mike, come on…” pleads Riley, as Craven is still stuck on the ground holding his knees, “Get back up! You gotta pull through this! Just one pin, man, one pin!” The old man takes a few breathes from a kneeling position as he sights his now wounded opponent. He doesn’t smile, but his face goes to from tired to focused; he smells the blood in the water, and now he’s the hunter. Recovering from the initial shock of the massive impact, Craven tries to get back up to his feet slowly. His thighs hurt like hell, and his knees feel Jell-o, but he tries his hardest to get up quickly… but not quick enough. Hearford viciously pulls one of his legs out, putting him back on his belly. Craven tries to kick away, but he just can’t seem to put any power into it. Hearford puts a leg between Michael’s legs, twisting one over before falling backwards and hooking on the Reverse Figure Four Leglock! “Cross Examination! The sadistic fiend is already attacking his opponent’s weak spot,” says Comet as Craven yells out in unbelievable pain, “While Craven does have an obvious injury; he didn’t even allow him time to get up. Even with scum like Craven that’s unconscionable…” But Bobbie doesn’t seem to want to say anything right now, becoming increasingly worried by the second as Craven cries out in the center of the ring, the hold firmly locked in. He tries to move with his hands, but the pain in his legs is almost completely debilitating, and it doesn’t take long to get what the Judge wants. *TAP TAP TAP* Kivell calls for Hearford to break the submission as Funyon speaks over the PA from the outside. “The winner of the first fall… THE JUDGE, WILLIAM HEARFORD!” “And now it’s all evened up!” says Comet, but Riley immediately interjects. “No it’s not! Craven’s injured! He’s in no condition to still be out there!” he cries, “If we stop now, we could just wait ‘til he’s better and have a regular match for the spot on SmarkDown!” “No, Bobbie,” replies Comet, shaking his head, “Craven’s own ego got him into this mess, and it may just have to carry him out…” As the Judge breaks the hold, Craven rolls over to one of the nearby corners, using it to help get himself back to his feet with his incredibly sore legs. But as the Judge goes up he is right after the downed man. As Mike begins to stand up in the turnbuckle, Hearford comes over with a hard boot right to the man’s back. The crowd gives him heat for attacking an injured man so ruthlessly, but the Judge is all business right now. He gives him a few more sharp boots before pulling him up by his shoulder right into a knee to the stomach. Hearford locks up, pushing him out towards the middle of the ring before taking control, sliding his hand under Craven’s arm and into his face before sweeping his legs out from under him with a hard STO! Craven hits the mat hard, and Hearford shifts over for a pin, making sure to hook a leg… ONE! TWO! THREENO! Craven gets a shoulder up, sparking a modest mixed reaction from the crowd. “Craven manages to survive the Closing Arguments, but he can’t last much longer in this case with his shot legs,” notes Comet as the Judge almost stands up, not picking Craven up with him. “Come on, Mike, you’ve can do it!” “Why are you cheering for him? I thought you were also a follower of the Judge.” “Hey, Craven’s been around for 2 ½ years fighting for this title,” says Bobbie, “He’s improved tons and gotten this far, how can’t you cheer for him?” “Because he’s an egotistical and malicious man who cares only about himself and his career?” “Well, besides that…” In the ring, Hearford gives Craven a few more boots to the chest and legs as the King of Nightmares is still reeling from his mistake on the top rope. Once again, the Judge grabs onto one of Craven’s legs and wraps it around his own. He prepares to fall backwards, but Craven puts an arm through the Judge’s legs for a Schoolboy Rollup! Matty Kivell hits the mat as the crowd gives a small pop for the maneuver… …but quickly turns to hate as Craven gets a handful of tights as well! ONE! TWO! THREEEENO! The Judge barely kicks out at the last second, and Craven lies back on the mat, looking more and more desperate to get out of the match as the seconds pass. “Craven is getting more and more desperate here,” says Comet as the King of Nightmares tries to get up quickly, but his legs just won’t allow for it, “He knows that he’s the one being hunted right now.” The Judge begins to get up as Craven struggles to his feet, but Hearford continues to keep the pressure on. Getting up first, he pulls Craven up the rest of the way, but Craven pushes him away. The King of Nightmares, standing on sheer will alone, begins hammering the old man with forearm strikes, pushing him backwards. He quickly takes the opportunity to grab him by the wrist and whip him at the ropes. The Judge is sent off, and he comes back towards Craven, who waits for him a forearm smash! Justice hits the mat hard as Mike falls to the mat on top of the old veteran. ONE! TWO! THREENO! Kickout at the last second, and Craven is breathing hard now, the pain in his legs only bothering him even more. He hits his fist against the mat once, but he starts getting up, trying to ignore the pain as much he can. Getting up to his feet, he reaches down and begins to pull up the Judge, but Hearford isn’t out of it enough to go up quietly. The old man gets up and rips his hands across the face of Craven, pushing the wounded warrior back a step. Quickly trying to take advantage, he hooks one of Mike’s legs with his arms as he applies a front facelock, looking for a Fisherman’s Suplex… but Craven blocks it, locking on a facelock of his own as brings both his legs up the side of Hearford and wraps them around his body! The two fall to the mat, and the crowd boos as the Craven Clutch is locked in! “Brilliant reversal!” cries Bobbie as the Judge tries to think of a way out, “Mike has been working the neck all night, and I can’t remember the last time someone escaped the Craven Clutch. Craven may have just pulled a victory from the flames here.” “I don’t think so,” replies Comet as Justice throws a hard punch in Craven’s knee, eliciting a yell of pain from the man, “After his ego left him without a pair of legs I think this villain can’t maintain that hold as long as Hearford continues his pounding.” Indeed his does, pounding away as hard as he can as the Guillotine Choke takes more and more air away from him. Craven’s legs don’t break the scissors, but instead his grip on Hearford’s head gets weaker with every painful shot. After a few more the Judge is able to pull away from the suffocating grip of the King of Nightmares, and wrapping his arms around Craven’s legs, he begins to flip him over, turning the move into a Boston Crab! The crowd gives a mild cheer at the reversal, but Craven is left clawing at the mat in pain as Hearford torques his bad legs. ”This could be it! The Judge has Craven incarcerated in a Boston Crab, and with those weak legs Craven is bound to tap out!” Craven covers his face with his hands as the pain from his legs surges throughout his body like an electrical charge. But he’s come so far, he can’t give up now. Putting his hands on the canvas and begins crawling, inch by inch towards the nearby rope. The Judge, still tired from the Craven Clutch only moments ago, can’t stop Craven as he gets closer and closer, only hoping that the agony he’s putting Mike through is enough to make him tap. He reaches his hand out… And grabs the ropes! The crowd gives a thoroughly mixed reaction, some people not wanting Hearford to win, but even more not wanting Craven to keep going on. Kivell forces Justice to break the hold, and the old man does so, taking a second to catch his breath. “How can’t you admire Craven right now?” Riley asks Comet as Craven somehow fights through the pain, mumbling something to himself, “The kid is fighting through this on sheer willpower.” “More like pure ego, Bobbie,” retorts the masked superhero as the Judge goes over to the fallen man, “He only cares about himself and that’s the only thing that’s driving him. There’s nothing admirable in the fact that he’s doing this all for his own personal gratification.” The Judge, now just looking to end the match, brings the SWF veteran up to his knees, where he promptly locks on a standing headscissors. He reaches around and straitjackets Craven’s arms as he prepares to lift him up for his finisher… but he doesn’t go anywhere as Craven immediately slams his head into the Judge’s groin, repaying him for that low blow a while back! The Judge lets go of Craven’s arms as the empty pain echoes through his body, and Mike pulls his head out and, with his knees shaking, puts him up into a fireman’s carry! The crowd boos as he quickly tosses him off and forwards, piledriving his head straight into the ground with a Samoan Driver! “Of all things good and evil, it looks as though in-JUSTICE~! is out!” calls the Cyclone Comet as Craven falls to the side, “But Citizen Craven doesn’t make the cover! He’s too tired to do it!” “Yes he will! I’m sorry to say, but the Judge is out after that last one!” Neither of the two move for a moment as the crowd watches on, wondering what might happen in the likelihood of a double count out. Kivell looks at both of them, but before he can start a count, Craven begins to slowly crawl over towards the Judge, putting his arm over the chest of the Judge. ONE! TWO! THREEENO! NO NO NO! The Judge raises his shoulder up at the last instant, sparking an “Ooooooooo!” from the crowd! Craven can’t believe it, and his features turn sullen as he pounds his fist into the mat in frustration. Pushing off first, Craven begins mumbling again, barely audible to the ring mics: “I’m… unstoppable… I’m…. unstoppable…” As he begins to get up, the Judge starts to move again. He rises up to his feet as Craven begins to get up, and the two rise to their feet at the same time. Hearford begins to move towards Mike, but the man lets out a yell and hits him in the face with a hard punch! “I’m… unstoppable…” He says, breathing hard, “and I’m not letting you…” He gives a labored punch again, right across the Judge’s cheek. “Or anyone…” A hard punch to the stomach this time, and Hearford doubles over. “Stop me from achieving my destiny…” With that, Craven bends over, grabbing the Judge around the neck and legs as he slowly lifts him up into a fireman’s carry. He slowly steps out towards the middle of the ring, still repeating the words. He crouches down to toss Hearford off his shoulders… “I’m… un…” He tries to go back up, his face straining under the pain… “Un...” Stoppable. His legs have been working too much past their limit, and he falls down to one knee under the load. Craven tries hard to get back up, but his will just isn’t enough anymore, and the Judge is conscious enough to slide right off the downed man’s shoulders, hooking on an inverted facelock as he does. He pulls the King of Nightmares backwards into a sitting position, stepping his leg around as he locks in Held Without Bail! Craven cries out in pain as the crowd gives a small cheer for the submission. “Held Without Bail! Craven’s body just gave out on him, allowing Hearford to lock on his choice submission!” “No! Come on, Mike, do something! Move towards those ropes!” The Judge torques the hold as hard as he can as Craven tries to find a way to get out, but he can’t: his legs are shot, not allowing him to move anywhere, and his body is just too tired after straining under all the pain from his legs. Kivell asks him if he wants to submit, but Mike holds out, though, not wanting to give up his dream. He prays for something for to happen, for anything to happen, for someone to wake him up from this dream. But no one comes to save him, and this is definitely not a dream. *TAP* *TAP* *TAP* *DING DING DING* ”The winner of the second fall AND the winner of the GENESIS WORLD TITLE TOURNAMENT… THE JUDGE, WILLIAM HEARFORD!” It’s a Nightmare. “Damn it!” says Riley, disappointed with the outcome, “Oh well, the Judge is better than some of the other guys they were gonna throw at Tom.” “Personally, I don’t think anyone is happy at the result right now,” says Comet as the fans boo, knowing that the Main Event at Genesis will be between two men that they utterly abhor. The Judge releases the hold, allowing Craven to fall onto his back. As Kivell raises Hearford’s hand in victory, the camera closes in on the face of Craven, almost empty as his dream for the World Championship is thrown to the wayside. For today, Craven has gone from being the King of Nightmares, to being one of his own victims. ---- SWF Lockdown, September 3rd, 2003. © 2003 White Apple Productions. All Rights Reserved “SWF: Raising Workrate By Typing Faster.” ---- *FADE OUT*

The Suicide King’s office is more luxurious than you’d expect for a room that has to be moved from arena to arena every three or four days. A pair of expensive-looking leather chairs face a tasteful mahogany desk, where the commissioner sits massaging his head, trying hard not to think about the events of the evening. A large mirror hangs to the right of the desk, next to a large poster of the King of Hearts – an odd choice of décor, or perhaps merely an ironic one. Altogether, it’s a rather tasteful room, given its limitations. If it belonged to anyone else, what happens next would be a tragedy. BAM! The Suicide King’s head lurches up, startled, as Nathaniel Kibagami kicks open the door to his office. “WHEN DID YOU KNOW?!?” he screams, shoving one of the chairs out of his way. “WHEN THE HELL DID YOU KNOW ABOUT HIM?!” “You think I knew? You think I would let him in the goddamned building?! I had no idea he was here, Nathan! There was no way I could know he was coming bac –“ CRASH! CRUNCH! Kibagami slams his fist into the mirror, shattering it into hundreds of pieces and reopening the gash on his right hand in the process! “BULLSHIT, King! Nothing here happens without you! NOTHING! I’m done playing these god-damn GAMES!” The Silent One slams a fist down on the desk and glares angrily at his commissioner. “Make it happen, Brian. Get me a goddamned match with that little bastard.” ”Now you listen to me, you drugged-up piece of trash. You’re not wrestling a broomstick without my say-so. Did you really think you could pass a drug test with all those painkillers in your system? All I have to do is pick up the phone and you’re fired –“ SLAM! Before King can finish his sentence, Silent is over the desk and holding the commissioner against the wall by the throat! ”FIRE ME, then,” he hisses, “But get me that goddamned match before you do it. You owe it to me, you bastard. You OWE ME this.” ”Owe you?” Applewhite laughs as best he can. “You really are crazy, aren’t you. Christ, what have you done for me that could get me to go out on a limb with MacPhis –“ a sharp shove back into the wall knocks the breath momentarily out of the commissioner. “Who do you think broke the Carnival? You sure as hell didn’t, Applewhite. Who broke Zenon? Who turned Raynor against Edwin? Who left the luchadore without any friends and ripe for the picking? I DID, goddamn it, I finished them when you couldn’t, when Wilson couldn’t, when Reece and Shinji and God knows who else COULDN’T GET IT DONE.” Kibagami – Silent – grins devilishly at the Suicide King, his eyes shining, earnest, as he drives the point home. “Edwin and Stevens are all that’s left. You’ve got Stevens under control, as far as I can tell. You put Edwin in a cage, and you give him to me…and the Carnival’s over. It’s finished.” Kibagami releases King’s shirt, taking care not to drip any blood on the desk. “You make this happen, Brian, and I swear to you I will make it worth your time. You need anything between now and Smarkdown, you give me a call. And when you get the match together, give me a call. I’ll be waiting on it.” Managing to assume an amount of dignity despite the wrecked office and his bleeding hand, Nathaniel Kibagami turns on his heel and makes for the door. The Suicide King, one hand on his throat, cautiously sits back down in his chair, slightly confused at what has just transpired. “What makes you so sure I’ll make the match, Si…Nathan?” The Silent One pauses, a little perturbed at hearing his old ring name…or maybe a little elated. “Ratings, Brian. Think of the ratings…and think of the favor you’ve got to call in.” He looks over his shoulder, a grin still plastered on his face. “Thugg, Mark, Bastion, and now Edwin…you need all the allies you can get right now. You do this for me…you do this for the federation as a whole, Brian, and I’ll be in your debt for a very long time.” ”And how many people can say that Silent is at their beck and call?” Silent – or is it Kibagami? Is there really a difference, now? – chuckles to himself. “Now you’re thinking, my friend. I’ll see you around.” And he closes the door behind him, a thin trail of blood the only sign of his passing. Besides the mirror and the chair, at least. Brian Applewhite reclines in his chair for a moment…and a slow smile creeps over his face. He picks up the phone and dials a number… “Andrea? Yes. I need you to get ahold of Mark Stevens for me. What message?” King grins. ”Tell him I need his help with something, of course.”

“Keep moving!” shouts Johnny. In the back halls of the arena, Johnny Dangerous was leading his target towards the exit. Wildchild tripped to the floor as Johnny gave him a shove. “What da’ hell is your problem, Johnny!” snapped Wildchild, pushing himself off the floor with his arms. “Why are you accusing me of dis’? I haven’t done anything, dis’ is bullshit, and you know it!” “Is that so, Dominic? Is that why you decided to try and RUIN me?!” replies Johnny, sending his foot into Wildchild’s ribs, and knocking the Bahaman onto his back! “You thought it was funny earlier didn’t you, who’s laughing now? Your on your way to a federal prison!” “That’s about enough, son.” “What the hell?” Johnny spun around towards the source of the voice. “Oh, great! What do you guys want?” Standing directly in the path leading towards the exit was the vicious Bastion, H-Ville Thugg, and surprisingly... “Grand Slam” Mark Stevens. “You ain’t takin’ Wildchild no where, Johnny mutha f*cka, you ain’t Dangerous!” said Thugg. Bastion stood nodding along to his brothers every word, cracking his knuckles. “In fact, what the f*ck is your problem anyway?” “This isn’t any of your concern!” barks Johnny. “I’d suggest you all move out of the way, before...” “Before what, b*tch? You going to move us yourself? You remember what happened last time you challenged Bastion here alone, there’s three of us here now.” “Nothing happened before.” “I BROKE YOUR SORRY PUNK ASS DOWN, BITCH!” shouts Bastion, licking his chops for a fight. “YOU AIN’T NUTIN’ BUT A SCARY ASS BITCH, MUTHA F*CKA!!” Johnny remains silent, staring towards the three. Mainly Bastion. “Now,” says Thugg, “You need to realize something, Johnny. Your in the SWF, we handle problems a bit differently around here, and that’s something you should have figured out by now. Every problem, every dispute, every challenge, EVERYTHING! gets settled right back where you came from a few minutes ago... the ring.” “I’m not settling anything in the ring, Thugg!” says Johnny. “I don’t have to, this doesn’t concern the SWF.” “The hell it doesn’t, you crazy ass b*tch! You brought all of this to the SWF! The second you did that it became our concern. I been checkin’ the net to, yo. You don’t want to know how many fans have been talking about the possibility of Johnny Dangerous versus Wildchild. They been talkin’ bout everything you been doing up in here, and they want to see, no they DESERVE a resolution!” Thugg stops to see if Johnny has any sort of reply, but the Barracuda remains silent. “You know what,” begins Thugg, “those fans are going to get a resolution. You see, me and Mark Stevens here hold a combined half of the ownership around here, so I think he’ll agree with me on this one, all differences aside.” Thugg glances towards Stevens, who raises a brow. “Johnny Dangerous, I’m booking you in a match against Wildchild.” says Thugg. “We don’t need any matches to decide...” “Shut the f*ck up, Johnny!” snaps Thugg. “You WILL have a match with Wildchild, because like it or not, your ass is under contract to this federation. We’ll let a match decide fate, and will let fate be decided at the biggest stage of them all... GENESIS!” “Yeah,” says Mark, nodding. “I’ll agree with that one.” “Good, and for now!” says Thugg. “Your going to let Wildchild go. If you can beat him at Genesis, you can have him then.” “Fine.” says Johnny. “Then it’ll be on your hands, not mine!” Johnny brushes past the three towards the door, leaving Wildchild behind as the scene fades to darkness.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM!! BANG! The camera pans briefly around the Savvis Center, sweeping up and down the rows of loyal SWF fans, before cutting back to the announcer’s table, where Bobby Riley and Cyclone Comet sit, waiting to continue the show! ”Welcome back, ladies and gentlemen! To my left is the ineffable Bobby Riley, and I…I am CYCLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONE COMET~! Superhero extraordinaire, uncommonly suave defender of justice, and an expert in all forms of –“ ”Poorly received television pilots?” ”Don’t put words in my mouth, chum.” “Better I do it than your scriptwriters.” Riley flashes a quick smile at his sullen companion. “Tonight has been something of a rollercoaster, ladies and gentlemen. Earlier tonight, we witnessed the brief return of Edwin MacPhisto, who appeared to smooth out the differences between the Hville Thugg and ‘Grand Slam’ Mark Stevens. His appearance may have done just as much damage as good, however – sources backstage tell me that Nathaniel Kibagami has been on an absolute rampage since learning of the Crown Prince’s return.” “Well, that’s to be expected, Bobby. Kibagami’s waited seven years to dispense some much-needed justice; I can understand becoming frustrated with a criminal’s escape. Let’s just hope that he doesn’t take this near-miss to heart with such an important match coming up.” ”Double Jeopardy defeated Nathaniel by the skin of their teeth last week, and the Silent One specifically requested this match immediately afterwards. I’m sure he’s focused on the match, Comet. I’m just a little concerned about how focused he might be…” “SHOW! COME ON DOWN!” In the ring, Vicky Black turns over the word “SHOW” on a Wheel of Fortune board as “Come On Down” hits the speakers. The fans that populate the Savvis Center let loose with a fury of boos as the larger half of the tag-team champions makes his way through the sliding doors at the top of the ramp, smile flashing, microphone in hand. “Introducing first…making his way to the ring, weighing in at two hundred and ninety-nine pounds and hailing from Studio 3B, he is one-half of the SWF tag team champions…SHOW!” “Tonight’s question is ‘Who is getting their ass kicked’…and I do believe the answer is NATHANIEL KIBAGAMI! SURVEY SAAAAAAAYS!” Show climbs into the ring as Vicky Black and referee Ced Ordonez hurriedly remove the board. He flashes a smile at the St. Louis audience as he ascends the turnbuckles, oblivious to their wholehearted disapproval as he raises both arms to the crowd. “I hope Show knows what he’s getting himself into here tonight, Comet. Kibagami’s in a bad, bad frame of mind right now, and I don’t think Show really understands what that means –“ BAM! “DAMN it, that’s too bright.” ”Today, the warning came in the flood…” ”Don’t be ridiculous, Riley. Kibagami seems like the picture of…” Comet catches himself midsentence (much to Riley’s delight) as Kibagami comes through the curtains and the fog as the vocals begin, and the lights are reduced to their usual level. “Introducing second…hailing from Phoenix, Arizona, and weighing in at two hundred and sixty-eight pounds…NATHANIEL KIBAAAAAGAMI!” The Silent One briskly makes his way to the ring, ignoring the fans’ cheers completely as the music surges forward… and in his bruised and bleeding right hand, he carries a familiar-looking cane. “Um…Bobby? What is the cane for? This match is a regular singles match, correct?” ”I told you he was in a bad mood, Comet.” ”But I was just talking to Jerry this afternoon, and he told me that he thought citizen Nathaniel seemed particularly cheerful when he showed up at the arena –“ ”Have you seen Jerry since then?” ”No, why?” Kibagami slides into the ring, cane still in hand, and rolls to his feet, meeting Show in the center of the ring. Ordonez begins explaining the rules to both men as “The River Dragon Has Come” begins to fade… FWOOOOOOOOSH! THUNK! FWOOOOOOOOSH! THUNK! FWOOOOOOOOSH! THUNK! FWOOOOOOOOSH! THUNK! “What the hell is Kibagami doing?!?” FWOOOOOOOOSH! THUNK! “I told you, Comet…” FWOOOOOOOOSH! THUNK! Show crumples to the mat under the Slaughterer’s vicious assault, collapsing to the mat as Kibagami’s cane finds the side of his head! The crowd, the announcers, and the referee sit in shock for a moment...snapping back to his senses, Ordonez goes to signal for the bell – FWOOOOOOOOSH! THUNK! – but a swift blow to the head sends him to the canvas alongside Show! “Good gracious! Ced may be concussed!” Some of the more proactive fans begin to boo Kibagami’s treatment of Ordonez, but the former Clansman doesn’t appear to notice. He bends over to pick Show up from the canvas, but the big man resists halfheartedly – a poor idea. FWOOOOOOOOSH! THUNK! FWOOOOOOOOSH! THUNK! FWOOOOOOOOSH! THUNK! Three more cane shots to the head and shoulders eliminate all but Show’s most feeble struggles, and the big man is in no shape to provide any resistance as Kibagami hauls him to his feet and applies a standing headscissors...then hooks his arms, beginning the setup for the Demonstar Driver. “What is citizen Nathaniel doing? I understand that he’s upset, but this is…this sort of thing is…” Comet gulps. “It’s downright criminal.” With a heavy grunt, Nathan lifts the big man up onto his shoulders, then lets him hang down at waist level. Bracing Show’s elbows with his arms, Kibagami hesitates for a moment and looks out across the crowd… BAM! …before PLANTING the helpless Show with the Demonstar Driver! Kibagami heaves to his feet and yells angrily for a mic over the mixed boos and cheers of the Missouri crowd. “I can’t…I can’t say I’ve seen Kibagami quite like this before. He’s just decimated one half of the tag team champions, and taken out the referee for no reason at all! What is he trying to accomplish with this kind of senseless –“ ”Shut up for a second and maybe he’ll tell us.” Silent slides out of the ring and grabs a mic from a nearby ring attendant. “You think this is a goddamned game, don’t you, Edwin?” he breathes. “You think it’s fun to run around the arena, run away from me again. This is not a game of tag, you son of a bitch.” He snatches a chair from ringside and hurls it back into the ring without so much as a glance over his shoulder – it lands inches from Show’s head. “We’ve already seen you sacrifice your friends to stay away from me, but you seem to care enough about this federation to risk coming back, if only for a moment. Is that what I have to do to get your attention, Edwin?” Kibagami slides back into the ring. “Do I have to take the SWF apart, one man at a time?” “He can’t be serious, Bobby. Citizen Nathaniel wouldn’t stoop to such criminal depths!” ”No, he wouldn’t, Comet. But…I think he’s serious about this.” ”I can’t – no, I won’t believe it. Such an upstanding consumer of Cyclone Comet merchandise would never succumb to the baser impulses that drive the criminal classes to commit such acts of…what’s he doing?” In the ring, the former Clansman kneels next to the chair and pulls a marker out of his boot, using it to draw a large “X” in the center of the chair. The crowd hushes slightly as Kibagami takes up the microphone again; the import of the mark is hardly lost on them. “Three careers are over because of you, and you don’t seem to care, but I think that means that the number’s just not big enough for you to pay attention. I think I need to drive the point home a little harder. For instance, tonight, you’ve cost Charlie Matthews the use of his legs. Every day you make me wait, I’ll do this to somebody else. Every night you spend running away, I’m going to spend catching up to you, Edwin. Catching up to somebody else. This...” Kibagami grabs a handful of Show’s hair and yanks him up to his knees – the blood from a gash across the big man’s forehead obscures his eyes as it drips down his face and onto the canvas. "...this is on your hands." “No more goddamned games, Edwin; no more disguises, no more letters, no more skin-of-your-teeth escapes!” Kibagami rants, oblivious to the cheers coming from a remote section of the crowd… “I’m not going to wait for you to return on your own precious time anymore. We’re going to finish this the way I want it finished!” The cheers grow louder, and Kibagami turns to face the SmarksTron… "Bobby, look!" A surprise. A vision. A shock... …as Edwin MacPhisto slides into the ring behind him! “Where the hell did he come from?” ”I don’t know, Bobby, but he’s here! Kibagami and MacPhisto are in the ring!” The crowd roars to levels beyond comprehension as Kibagami takes a swing at his nemesis with the microphone, but the Crown Prince of Flash and Panache ducks smoothly underneath the wild swing! The Silent One tries to turn around… BAM! …but he’s just not fast enough! ”ENCORE CROSS!” screams Riley, and the crowd goes absolutely NUCLEAR as Kibagami crumples to the mat! Not wasting any time showboating for once, Edwin quickly moves to the unconscious Charlie Matthews, dragging him out of the ring and into the arms of the medics who are streaming down the ramp. Building security surrounds them, a veritable sea of yellow jackets. MacPhisto, having seen to the safety of Show, sprints up the entrance ramp, pausing only for a moment to wave farewell to the Savvis Center crowd before disappearing behind the curtains! “Did that just…he just…I thought he left…Bobby, that was Edwin MacPhisto!” “It certainly was, Comet, and what an impact he’s made here tonight! Are we going to see more of this on Smarkdown? Has Edwin come back to answer Kibagami's challenge? I have no idea how he knew to come back to the arena…wait, wait, we’ve got to cut to commercial. Stay tuned, ladies and gentlemen! The Genesis tournament final is just around the corner!” The camera cuts back to the ring briefly, capturing Nathaniel Kibagami as he rises from the mat, his cane in hand, Show’s blood on his face…and murder in his eyes.

The crowds are still cheering but speed is off the essence now. Kicking his feet and dashing through the halls of the Savvis Center, Edwin MacPhisto is on a mad dash for salvation. He blows by faces, some friendly, some new—CIA’s jaw drops below his mask as the Crown Prince of Flash and Panache blows by with a wave, and Mak Francis gives a grin. “So that’s Edwin?” Hard right, hard left—Edwin bobs and weaves through the halls, knowing that he doesn’t have much time. Get in, get out, get gone. Gone. Parking lot. “I drove here! By jove, I drove here!” He spins on his heel and exclaims with glee, “that’s the ticket!” in a state of delighted delirium as he ducks back down a hall and makes for the parking garage. “Free at last, free at last, thank god almighty, I’m…” “…at a dead end?” Edwin whirls on his feet, away from the wall, as another Liverpoolian lilt comes from behind him. Dante Crane sits astride an overturned trash can, stubbing out a cigarette and flicking it behind him. “You know, for a bloke who won his world title here, you’d think you’d know the place better.” “Dante Crane. Let me make your acquaintance for real this time, if it’s not too much trouble. Find the catering table all right, I do hope?” Dante chuckles and meets the handshake. “Good burgers. You should try one.” “See, that sounds well and good,” pants a haggard Edwin, “but I’m in a bit of a hurry now, what with the whole ‘person I least want to see ever good lord did I mention ever’ staggering around after me with venom on the mind and bruises on the hand. Where’s out, if you don’t mind?” “Oh, I don’t.” Dante gives a quick jerk of his thumb. “Two lefts, one right, and you’re there.” “God bless us, god bless everyone! But mostly you. And, uh, if Cap’n Kibagami comes around this way, could you possibly send him in the exact opposite direction?” “It’ll be a pleasure.” “Right then! Adios, newfound amigo!” With a dash Edwin is out of the way. Dante dismounts from the trash can…when the ominous form of one Nathaniel Kibagami rounds the corner. “I heard him.” “Who?” SLAM. His throat in Silent’s fist and his back against the wall, Dante doesn’t have much choice but to acquiesce. “He…sphtt…went…that way.” Dante nods, away from the parking garage. Silent looks once… …looks twice… …and throws him down to the ground, bursting in the opposite direction. One left. Another left. Broken bones. One right. The sound of acceleration. “NO!” Nathaniel Kibagami rounds the corner and explodes through the swinging double doors, staggering into the parking lot just in time to see a bright blue Corvette, license plate “PANACHE,” zip off into the distance. “No…no. Not this time.” Silent’s run slows, stops, to a halt. He leans on the trunk of a Lincoln Towncar, catching his breath. Blood from the wound on his hand freshens, his palm clenched so hard across the trunk… “Uh, Mr. Kibagami?” Silent looks up, through weathered bangs. 5’9, maybe 160, 170. Nice little hat. The valet nametag says “Jeffrey.” “I just got a call from Mr. Applewhite. He said that you have a match.” “A what?” “A match. Against Charlie Williams, Mr. Kibagami.” “What? Speak up, Jeffrey. I can’t hear you. Come closer…” Jeffrey takes a step, cups his hands, and shouts at the hulking man before him. “Mr. Kibagami, I said--” And it’s over in a flash—a crack to the face, a scoop upwards, and a heave— CR-CR-CR-CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAACKSHSHSHSHSHSH Bathed in tiny slivers of glass, Nathaniel Kibagami leaves the valet crushed into the car, twitching weakly, halfway through the windshield. Half full: the everlasting optimist. He starts to walk. “Thanks, Jeffrey.” He opens the double doors. “But I heard you the first time.”

“Welcome back to the Lockdown, you vile curs!” says Cyclone Comet with a grin as SWF action returns to the Savvis Center in beautiful St. Louis. “We’d like to welcome our newest carrier, KMOR in Salt Lake City, Utah! The SWF is proud to have fans of all religious stripes, even those goofy ones that don’t drink alcohol. We are almost to the final match in the Genesis IV tournament to determine just who will go on the face the SWF World Champion Tom Flesher at Genesis.” “But first,” adds Bobby Riley with an even bigger smile, “we will be treated to a performance by the World Champion himself as Tom Flesher teams with some guy to beat two other guys.” Comet replies, “To be more accurate there, Lois, Tom Flesher is going to team with Ejiro Fasaki to battle former World Champions the Boston Strangler and Taylor Nicholas Thompson.” “Why even have the match?” says Riley. “Tom beat both of those two hairy beasts to win his twice-sweet World Title. Why bother? That’s what I want to know.” “Because this way you get to see him … just a few feet away. Up there. Sweating. Glistening. Straining.” “I withdraw my objection.” Riley subtly wipes his forehead with a handkerchief. With the objection withdrawn, we are free to move this along to Funyon, standing in the middle of the ring with microphone in hand. Drawing a little cheer from the crowd, Funyon calls into the stick, “Ladies and gentlemen, this next contest is scheduled for one fall and is a tag team encounter. Introducing first…” HERE WE ARE! BORN TO BE KINGS! WE’RE THE PRINCES OF THE UNIVERSE! YEAH! “This is the best part of my day!” gushes Bobby Riley. Coming through the ring curtain saunters the strutting and smiling World Champion Tom Flesher and United States Champion Ejiro Fasaki. Secure in their masculinity because of their really big golden belts, the members of The Magnificent Seven wander down to the ring enjoying all the boos and catcalls that they receive along the way. Rolling into the ring together, Flesher and Fasaki pull their titles off their waists and slap them together in a little golden high five. Wandering over to Funyon, Ejiro requests the microphone and begins to speak. “Ladies and gentlemen… it is my pleasure to present to you tonight a very special man. A very mighty fine man. A man who requires no introduction but gets one anyway since he’s so damn wonderful. He is a champion beyond the mortal plane. He is a champion that transcends time and space so that he exists everywhere and everywhen. If he were a politician he would be the president of the world’s bodies of water. If he were a businessman, he’d be able to break every law there was and never got caught. And if he were a crocodile, we’d thank you Tom for your great big smile. But he is none of those things! He is a wrestler… and he is the SWF WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION! Hailing from Buffalo, New York and weighing in at 213 pounds. He is the grand Pooh-Bah of the Magnificent Seven. He is your friend and mine, he is… “The Superior One” TOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMM FLESHERRRRRRRRRRRRR~!” The crowd immediately boos at the most overblown announcement they might have ever heard from the United States Champion as Tom Flesher politely golf claps his own announcement before stripping off his work out gear much to the delight of Bobby Riley. Nodding in approval to Ejiro’s call of his name, Tom begins to lean into the ropes in order to stretch himself out a bit before this match gets underway. Wandering back over to Funyon, Ejiro seems as though he is about to hand the stick back to the ring announcer before suddenly stopping and pulling the microphone back to his mouth. “Whoops, sorry. And I’m his partner… blah, blah … US champion … Sarasota … Ejiro Fasaki. Sorry, folks, this is what Wildchild’s for.” Finally handing the stick back to Funyon, Ejiro wanders back over to Flesher to share a little chuckle, as Funyon is happy to continue his announcement. “And their opponents… introducing first!” WATCH ME EXPLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOODE! With a giant mushroom cloud lifting into the air, Taylor Thompson comes through the curtain with no regard for the mixed reaction that greets him upon his return to the ring. Based off his latest actions against Danny Williams, the crowd seems unable to decide just what they think about TNT quite yet. The former World Champion makes no indication of just how he is going to behave in this instance as he faces the hated Tom Flesher while teaming with his teammate The Boston Strangler. Sliding underneath the ring ropes, Thompson rises up and climbs to the middle ropes as another explosion lifts into the air with a booming … well… KABOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM! “Weighing in tonight at 275 pounds, he comes to us from Anaheim, California. He is Taylor Nicholas Thompson … better known as TEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE ENNNNNNNNNNNNNNN TEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” The crowd gives a half-enthusiastic response as TNT continues to simply stare across the ring at his adversaries for this evening. But the mood of the crowd takes a rapid change in pace as another song starts to kick it old school over the house system speakers! Cheering wildly as the lights dim to the point of darkness, the crowd hears the sounds of “Godzilla” play throughout the arena as one word flashes across the big screen. STRANGLER The crowd explodes along with the white pyrotechnics that come only a moment later in order to herald The Boston Strangler to the ring. Looking out to the people that are chanting his name, Strangler lifts one mammoth arm to the people as they cheer wildly in response. Moving up to the apron, TBS steps right over the top rope and into the ring. Walking right past Thompson as though he isn’t even there, Strangler looks about a moment away from killing Flesher dead. But he is willing to wait a few more seconds as Funyon calls into his microphone for the final time. “Weighing in tonight at 303 pounds and hailing from Boston, Massachusetts this is the former SWF World Heavyweight Champion. This is THE BOSTONNNNNNNNNNNNNNN STRANGLERRRRRRRRRRRRRR!” DING! DING! At the sound of the bell, Thompson doesn’t even bother to look at The Boston Strangler before he immediately heads to the apron to allow Strangler to seek his revenge his loss last week against Tom Flesher. Tom, however, doesn’t seem as interested in that agenda, as he also heads to the apron. This leaves Fasaki there to deal with a frustrated Strangler. A really, really big Boston Strangler against 188 pounds of Ejiro Fasaki. (Doesn’t seem fair, does it?) Meeting in the center of the ring for about a half a second, the two men lock horns in a collar-and-elbow tie up before Ejiro strikes first with a sneaky knee right to Strangler’s breadbasket. Slapping an elbow against TBS’ head, Fasaki gets the opening to grab Strangler by the wrist and uses it to send him across the ring with an Irish whip... but with three hundred pounds behind him, Strangler doesn’t whip easy. He stops without budging a step and instead sends Ejiro into the ropes. Catching Ejiro on the rebound, Strangler lowers a shoulder and elevates Fasaki high into the air… “BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK body drop,” calls out Cyclone Comet.7 “Good call, Vince,” mutters Riley. “Vince? I know not of any superhero alter ego called ‘Vince.’” “He’s a villain.” Holding onto his spine, Ejiro forces his way through the pain as he rises up to his feet, only to be knocked right back down to the canvas with a rushing clothesline from the gargantuan Strangler! Only too willing to continue this assault, the Boston Strangler continues his winning ways by plucking Fasaki off the canvas and heaving him across the ring with an Irish whip. Following him like a runaway train, TBS crushes Ejiro into the corner with a huge avalanche clothesline that sends the United States champion down in a heap! Placing his boot right in Ejiro’s windpipe, TBS chokes the hell out of the struggling United States champion, staring a hole right at Tom Flesher. Flesher, for his part, seems completely unconcerned about his partner. “Look at that evildoer!” cries Comet. “He’s just standing there as his partner gets the tar kicked out of him!” “Never say those words about Tom again!” snaps Bobby. “‘Do her.’ That’s ridiculous!” Pulling Ejiro into a standing position, The Strangler begins to pepper Ejiro with a number of hard closed fists to the chest again and again until a final shot straight to the face causes Fasaki to fall straight onto his. Quickly pivoting towards the World Champion, Strangler takes a mighty swing right at him but catches only air as “The Superior One” drops off the apron and out of reach. Looking up at Strangler, Flesher just laughs as the former champion looks down at him with a deep and loathing hatred. Strangler does not have to look for long, though, as Taylor Thompson decides to make a move for the first time in the match. Stealthily dropping off the apron, TNT skulks around the ring as Flesher and Strangler continues to jaw at each other, using many unkind words. Finally in position, though, Thompson breaks up the debate by rushing the distracted Flesher with a clothesline of his own! “Way to go TNT!” enthuses Cyclone Comet. “It looks as if he is about to turn the corner, despite the unusual actions he took two weeks ago. Maybe it was just a phase, like when the Hulk turned gray and became a muscle man for the mob, or when Spider-Man retired and became a jockey.” “Or maybe he just wants to beat up on my boy Tom.” Pulling the stunned Flesher off the concrete floor, TNT sends him right underneath the bottom rope as an extra-special present to the steaming Boston Strangler. Sending Flesher to the ropes, TBS lowers his shoulder once again and jerks him high into the air before dropping him straight down on his nose with a flapjack! Holding onto his face as he gets to his feet, the World Heavyweight Champion turns back to the Boston Strangler, only to be met in the face with a stunning kick to the mouth that sends him falling right back down to the canvas! Scrambling, Tom rolls out of the ring as Strangler looks like he is about to dive right to the floor to continue the pounding… only to find the referee Matthew Kivell barring his path to the outside. Sending the referee scrambling with a cross look, Strangler steps over the top rope to head to the floor only to have his head hit the concrete! THUNK! “Oh good god - what an impact!” With one foot off the mat, Strangler finds himself turned head over heels as the previously-ignored Ejiro Fasaki rushes ahead and drives an elbow into the side of TBS’ head, sending him falling to the floor! Landing almost right on his head, Strangler’s neck gives out underneath the pressure of the impact coupled with the lingering effects of last week’s Held Without Bail stretch plum. Wracked with pain, TBS lies on the hard concrete as the Magnificent Seven team tries to get together. Both men head to the outside after Strangler. Flesher and Fasaki lift TBS off the floor together and drop him across the guardrail neck-first, as TNT comes around the ring once again. This time, he has to save his partner for the rest of the match. “Thompson needs to get in there to buy Strangler some time to recover,” notes Comet. “With the spill he just took to the outside, I question Strangler’s ability to shake off the cobwebs of evil and regain the composure required to implement justice. He needs some time and you know that Tom Flesher and Ejiro Fasaki will not give him that chance voluntarily. Bastards.” But before Thompson can get his angry hands on either member of the Magnificent Seven, Kivell once again gets in the way and orders TNT to return to his corner. Not putting up the same fight that his partner did a moment ago, Thompson retreats to his corner as the leader of the pack of wolves gets right back on Strangler and tosses him into the ring for the amusement of Ejiro Fasaki. With Strangler unable to get to his feet, Ejiro happily stomps away at the former World Champion while holding onto the top rope for leverage. Changing his mind, he abruptly changes gears and decides to pull Strangler to his feet. Fasaki makes the quick tag to Flesher so they can once again go to work on the huge Strangler together for a few short seconds. Together the members of the Magnificent Seven toss Strangler into the ropes, but on the rebound Fasaki falls to the mat and hooks the giant’s legs to take him down to the mat with a drop toe hold. At the same time, Flesher hits the far ropes, rebounds, and crashes down across the back of TBS’s neck with a harsh legdrop that does absolutely nothing toward helping to heal it. Immediately shooting the half nelson in, Flesher uses the hold to tilt Strangler onto his back as Kivell drops down to make the first count of the match. ONE! TWO! THRENOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT GONNA HAPPEN! Muscling right out of the pinning combination with all of his power, Strangler manages to keep his shoulders off the mat rather than face defeat. Popping to his feet immediately, the World Champion once again puts the boots to the head and neck of the currently devastated Boston Strangler. Flesher drops down and slaps a cravat hold on TBS and callously uses it to jerk his opponent up to his knees. Pulling the Boston Strangler closer to the ropes, Flesher reaches out to Fasaki and once again makes the quick tag. Cyclone Comet says, “You can really tell that the Magnificent Seven has brought the game tonight, as they are functioning like a well oiled machine. I was expecting a little more rust from these two as neither one has been active in the tag team ranks despite being former Tag Team Champions. Of course, those reigns were not with each other.” Bobby replies, “These two are old pros and both are very adaptable. Now I need to do is get Tom to adapt to the right circumstances and we will be golden.” “You see,” continues Comet, ignoring Riley, “it doesn’t matter how good a wrestler is. Sometimes in a tag team match, you need to check your ego at the door and let your opponent call the shots.” “And Ejiro’s doing a fine job of that tonight.” Holding Strangler tightly in the cravat hold, Flesher pulls the former champion closer to the middle rope as Fasaki hops into the ring and quickly runs the ropes before crashing right down on Strangler’s neck with a sitdown splash and driving his trachea down hard across the cable. Staying on top of the Boston Strangler as Flesher retreats to the apron, Fasaki lays in a chokehold against the ropes until Matthew Kivell finally manages to get him to break by threatening disqualification. Pulling the referee with him as he backs off, Fasaki engages Kivell in a lively debate on the merits of the ruling as Tom Flesher takes it upon himself to file a brief with the opposition. Moving down the apron, Flesher charges ahead right at TBS yet again and buries a running Yakuza kick straight into the side of the head! He knocks TBS back to the center of the ring, where the challenger lays stunned for a moment. Fasaki hears him land with a THUNK and takes his cue, smiling at Kivell, quickly adding a “Let’s agree to disagree,” and then sprinting to the apron! He hits the ropes yet again as Strangler lays on the canvas, then leaps into the air and comes down hard with a knee across the skull! Fasaki makes sure to drive the knee in hard before once again hooking the leg for another pin fall attempt. ONE! TWO! THRENOPENOPENOPENOPENOPENOPENOPENOPENOPE! Getting his shoulder off the canvas is enough to keep the match going as Strangler continues to absorb the Magnificent Seven’s assault. The team is ready to continue their plan of tearing at the giant mental case’s neck time and time again… but before Fasaki can resume the assault, he takes a moment to stare a hole right at the stoic TNT and fire a military salute, raising the ire of everyone else in the arena! FU FASAKI! FU FASAKI! FU FASAKI! FU FASAKI! FU FASAKI! Snickering at the outrage of the crowd, Fasaki gets back on Strangler by dropping his shin across the giant’s face. He stays on Strangler, grinding the bone of his leg against the bridge of Strangler’s nose, and reaches to the corner. Once again, the M7 team makes the quick tag, to bring Tom Flesher back into the match. The crowd, meanwhile, continues to spit with rage and cheer for Thompson to do something to help his wounded partner. There is, however, nothing TNT can do legally while the Magnificent Seven use the five count to double up on Strangler once again. Ejiro quickly switches positions, sliding off Strangler and opting mount him from behind. From there, he pulls up with a reverse chinlock. Looking at his unprotected opponent with daggers in her eyes. Flesher leans back into the ropes and fires a short dropkick right into Strangler’s face, prompting the crowd to wince in sympathy and then boo loudly. “You know what the best part of all of this is?” snickers Riley. “The Magnificent Seven are doing all of this damage to Strangler in a match where their titles or manservants aren’t on the line. They can do whatever they want in that ring and lose nothing!” “Oh, they most certainly will, Citizen Riley. Not only will they lose face, not only will they lose honour, but they’ll lose the consideration of every move producer in East Asia! In the name of Justice, Robert, think of the anguish they’ll feel, being rejected week after week for a top-billing film role, turned down even though the ratings for the television series were through the roof and they sold merchandise out the wazoo!” “What?” “Uh, just… hypothetically.” Looking at Strangler with a huge smile on his face, Flesher grabs him by the ankle and drags him to a more advantageous spot closer to the M7 corner. Leaving TBS there to soak in his own juices, the Superior One steps to the outside of the ring, then climbs all the way to the top rope in order to deliver some sort of high impact offense on the already wounded Strangler. Steadying himself for just a second, Flesher leaps off the top with a legdrop aimed right for TBS’s throat! WHAM! WHAT A SICKENING LEGDROP! Unfortunately for Flesher, it doesn’t connect. “He went for the Buffalo Jam but Strangler had just enough to get out of harms way!” calls Comet. “And it’s a good thing that Strangler moved, or that would have been all she wrote in this contest right here and now!” With Flesher stunned on the mat, Strangler sees an opportunity and goes for it. While Flesher tries to shake off the cobwebs, Strangler rolls over and begins the slow crawl toward his corner. The fans see it and begin cheering louder and louder as he inches over… until finally…….. “Flesher’s up!” shouts Riley. “That was a tough break for him, but it’s really the first injury he’s had in the entire match. He’s able to walk it off!” “Speaking of walking off…” “That’s enough about him!” As Strangler reaches toward the corner, Flesher grabs him by the ankle and pulls him back across the ring toward the M7 corner. Strangler struggles, but Flesher takes charge by stepping over and pulling his leg back into a high-angle half-crab. Tom sits back, taking a moment to collect his thoughts as he sits on Strangler’s back, bending him in half. Once he finishes his quick strategy session, he leans forward and reaches out his hand. Ejiro Fasaki, eager to re-enter the fray, slaps Flesher’s hand and bounds over the top rope. Ejiro sprints to the opposite side of the ring, bouncing off the ropes and sliding in to dropkick the former World Champion in the face! As he turns Strangler’s mush to mush, Flesher stands up and slides out of the ring to shake off any lasting effects of the missed top rope move. Taylor Thompson, meanwhile, glares on from the outside, the wheels in his head turning. “There’s a reason we don’t see Flesher go to the top rope much,” says Bobby Riley. “Of course, Taamo wouldn’t have taken a silly risk like that if this hadn’t been a tag team affair.” “Citizen Flesher simply reveals himself as not being truly well-rounded,” replies Comet. “A good wrestler will know when he can take risks, including but not limited to the famous FALLING STAR BOMB!” “You’re such a shameless self-promoter, Comet.” “Don’t be silly! My self-promotions are full of shame! My testimonials for Pepsi-MAX, on the other hand, are completely without second-guessery. That drink can change lives, Citizen Riley.” Ejiro stays in the ring, setting himself up next to the supine Strangler and grabbing him by the left arm. As he starts to sink in a cobra clutch, the fans begin to boo, and TNT starts shouting for Strangler to break the hold! Strangler starts wildly elbowing, flailing his arms to try to keep Ejiro from locking on his deadly Cobra Crossface! Fasaki struggles to cinch the hold in, but Strangler fights as hard as he can and finally succeeds in knocking him off! Ejiro reels backward after a particularly stiff elbow, and Strangler starts pushing himself to his knees. Fasaki, though, regains his stride, and before Strangler can make any moves toward the corner, the Emperor dives in and nails him with a knee to the back of the head! Strangler slumps forward, and once again Ejiro grabs at his left arm! He almost gets the hold tightened, but TNT continues shouting, screaming for Strangler to fight his way out of it! Strangler once again throws stiff, stidff backwards elbows, keeping Ejiro from sinking the cobra clutch deep enough to execute the hold. Ejiro sticks on Strangler like white on rice, trying to get the hold, with Tom Flesher cheering him on the whole time. As the two workers in the center fight it out, the former World Champion starts to get to his feet. The crowd cheers him on, but the US Champion keeps trying to put Strangler back on the mat. Finally, though, the crowd explodes as Strangler gets all the way to his feet and powerfully shrugs Ejiro off! He turns around, and as Ejiro charges at him, Strangler levels him with a stiff elbowsmash to the top of the head! Fasaki nearly crumbles to a heap as Strangler starts to the corner, but he somehow stays standing. TNT reaches out, leaning over the top rope…. Strangler reaches out…. Ejiro grabs his waistband and holds him back! The crowd bursts into a chant of… FU FASAKI! FU FASAKI! FU FASAKI! FU FASAKI! FU FASAKI! Ejiro holds Strangler back by the waistband of his jeans, and forcefully pulls him back from the corner. TBS turns to grab Ejiro, but as he spins around, the US Champ has a nice little present waiting for him! “Yeeouch!” winces Bobby Riley. “You know, I don’t care much for Strangler, but I don’t like to see anyone take a knee to the testicles.” “Citizen Riley, I think you may be using words far too technical for our intended audience. Perhaps, since we’re now being carried in Utah, you should use a less offensive term, like ‘family jewels.’” “That term is demeaning and discriminatory to the childless by choice.” “Or by circumstance.” As Strangler doubles over in pain, Fasaki grabs him b y the head and slams him to the mat with a DDT! Strangler hits head-first and rolls over onto his back. Fasaki covers him, but Matthew Kivell refuses to count! “He’s refusing to count because Ejiro kicked Strangler in the balls!” bitches Riley. “This is just unfair!” “‘Balls’ is okay,” muses Comet, “but perhaps you should go with something a little more exotic… like ‘huevos,’ maybe.” Fasaki stands up, arguing his case to Kivell. Mainly, he argues it by slapping his hands together three times in quick succession, but Kivell steadfastly refuses to award Fasaki the match as the result of an illegality. Flesher steps into the ring, hoping to argue him down via the time-honored method of “Don’t you know who I am? You can’t screw the World Champion like this!” Kivell shakes his head, not convinced. With Flesher and Fasaki both distracted, Strangler starts his crawl to the opposite corner. The fans cheer him on, but thanks to the stiff knee to the huevos, Strangler isn’t moving very fast. Flesher, for his part, sees that his argument isn’t persuasive, and moves up to “I’m going straight over your head!” The fans begin to applaud loudly, and he shouts, “See? They know what I’m talking about!” The applause, though, is for Strangler reaching out, and TNT finally tagging himself into the match! The fans go absolutely apeshit as the former US, Tag Team and World Champion roars into the ring! “WAIT A MINUTE, HE’S NOT LEGAL!” screams Fasaki! Kivell needs no other cue. Immediately, he turns around to usher the illegal TNT back to his corner. Flesher accompanies him, shouting things like, “YOU MAKE A MOCKERY OF THIS SPORT!” and “CONTROL YOUR TEMPER!” Fasaki, meanwhile, reaches into his trunks, and pulls out… Yup. The chain. Kivell, distracted, doesn’t see the chain, not even when they put it on the SmarkTron for all to see. Fasaki wraps it around his fist, and as the Boston Strangler gets to his feet, the US Champion socks it to him and plants him back on the mat! Fasaki jumps onto his back, wrapping the chain around Strangler’s neck and pulling back in a sickening, bastardized camel clutch variant! Flesher looks up, sees it on the SmarkTron, and quickly turns around to let Kivell handle the rest of the argument. Flesher does his part by simply dropkicking Strangler in the face once again, dizzying him and nearly knocking him out. Ejiro releases the hold, tucking the chain into a turnbuckle on the way back to his corner. Flesher slides out to the front, locking on a front facelock and underhooking TBS’s left arm, then turning him to his back in a neck-wrenching cement job pin for ONE!!!!! TWO!!!!! THREENOOOOOOO!!!!! Strangler manages to kick out, showing the resilience that keeps him consistently at the top of the card! Flesher, though, simply shoves him to the side, throws him into a corner, and plants his boot on Strangler’s neck! “Flesher goes for the boot choke. Maybe an odd strategy,” says Riley, “but it’s really a way for Flesher to continue breathing. That’s what the M7’s strategy has been this whole match – take as many breaks as possible by using quick tags and punishing moves. In fact, I don’t know if anyone noticed the switch they made – Flesher wasn’t legal after the nutshot, but they pulled it off perfectly and now Kivell doesn’t know the difference.” “Why, how revolutionary!” shouts Comet. “Citizen Riley, that may be the most innovative thing I’ve ever heard! You deserve a medal!” “Okay, Comet, we get the-” “A medal, I tell you! A Medal of JUSTICE~!” Flesher stands on Strangler’s neck, choking him out calmly as he coolly shakes his head at Kivell. Kivell counts at Flesher, but Flesher simply raises an eyebrow at counts one through four. Just before five, Flesher steps off Strangler’s neck and throws a quick smirk at the official. Strangler, though, sees an opening, and as Flesher looks away for just a second, he sweeps the World Champion’s leg out from under him! The crowd explodes with cheers as Flesher loses his footing, and Strangler starts fighting his way to the corner! Flesher gets up, trying to pull Strangler back, but TBS slams a forearm into his neck that sends him reeling! Flesher throws a palm strike back, but one forearm later, he hits the mat, and Strangler’s hand hits TNT’s! “WATCH ME EXPLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOODE!!!!!!!!” bellows the short-fused crowd favourite. Flesher gets up, but immediately gets sent back to the canvas by a flying shoulderblock! The fans pop, but Ejiro Fasaki charges into the ring to avenge his partner’s attack. Half a second later, Ejiro’s on the floor too, victim of another tackle! Flesher gets back up to his feet, staggering, but TNT charges toward him and shoulderblocks him to the mat once again! TNT pops back to his feet to thunderous applause and turns around, looking for the US Champion… only to be caught in the jaw with a Screaming Elbow! The fans go quiet as TNT falls to the mat from the spinning back elbow, and Fasaki drops onto him for ONE!!!!! TWO!!!!! THREENOOOOOOO!!!!! TNT kicks out, far too tough to be taken down by a simple elbow strike! He gets back to his feet, and Ejiro stays on him, throwing elbow strikes to keep him from regaining too much momentum. TNT, though, sucks it up and nails him with a pair of hard forearms! He takes control and dives in, grabbing Fasaki by the torso and spinning him around to lock on a hammerlock! “He’s going for the hammerlock suplex!” says Riley. “He’s going to try to take away Fasaki’s elbow strikes, the bastard!” “It’s purely a smart strategy,” says Comet, “and one that will be rewarded by those heartless Hong Kong movie producers. The bastards.” Before he can lift Fasaki, though, Tom Flesher jumps in and slams a palm strike into TNT’s head! The Explosive One staggers, releasing the limp Fasaki, and Flesher spins him around so that he can grab him for a Railgun suplex! TNT resists, though, throwing super-stiff forearms that hurt just to watch! The loud THUDs echo through the Savvis Center as Flesher releases his grip… and then TNT spins Flesher around. The entire crowd gasps as TNT snakes his arm under Flesher’s shoulder, locking on a half-nelson. He pauses for a second, tightening the lock up, and then arches backwards, throwing the World Champion through the air in a broad, sweeping arc and dropping him unprotected on the crown of his head! Flesher hits hard, nearly bouncing off the mat as TNT executes a picture-perfect half-nelson suplex! The crowd cheers as TNT stares at Flesher, then comes back up to his feet. He grabs Flesher once again, bending him over into a standing headscissors and getting him ready for the Mushroom Cloud! “This could be the untimely end of Thomas,” intones Comet. “And the very, very timely return of Citizen Thompson to the glory of the zenith of the world of wrestling!” TNT reaches down, grabbing Flesher for his deadly power bomb… but before he can hit it, Ejiro Fasaki charges in, and to the loud booing of the crowd, nails him with his own version of the Yakuza kick made famous by Tom Flesher! Thompson, stunned, releases Flesher, who drops to one knee. Fasaki stays on Thompson, nailing him with a flurry of elbow strikes that the Explosive One simply isn’t ready to defend! As Fasaki finishes neutralizing Thompson, the Boston Strangler reaches out and grabs Flesher by the waist! The fans cheer as he starts to lift Flesher up for the Southie Slam… but the Superior One resists! He hugs the mat, curls his body around Strangler’s leg and just does anything he can to keep from being lifted! As Fasaki throws Thompson out of the ring, Flesher finishes his counter sequence with a discreet heel kick to the crotch! Much to the dismay of the crowd, Matthew Kivell sees nothing! Strangler doubles over, and Flesher escapes his clutches unharmed! He stands up, and as Fasaki looks at him, the two M7ers smirk in unison. “Holy cow, Comet, what do you think they could be doing?” “Nothing savoury,” says Comet with a hint of forlornness in his voice. “Clearly, this does not bode well for our hero.” “Hey, speak for yourself!” Flesher nods, and as Fasaki scales the closes cornerpost, Flesher grabs the hefty Strangler in a standing headscissors. With great effort, he lifts Strangler at the waist, expending huge amounts of energy to hold the enormous adversary upside down. Quickly, Ejiro grabs Strangler’s boots, then immediately leaps off the top rope! Flesher sits out, and Fasaki adds weight to Strangler’s 300+-pound frame as they drive him to the mat with a spike piledriver! Flesher slides out of the ring, standing guard to keep TNT out of the fray as Ejiro covers the former world champion for ONE!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!! THREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DING DING DING!!!! Ejiro leaps to his feet, and Flesher slides into the ring. Together, the Magnificent Seven members raise their arms as Funyon announces, “Your winners, Ejiro Fasaki, Tom Flesher, THE MAGNIFICENT SEVEN!!!!!!!!!” “The US Champion and the World Champion get the win over the Boston Strangler and TNT, but not by much,” concedes Riley. “Once Citizen NT shakes off some of the ring rust,” agrees Comet, “he’ll be contending for the World Title in no time.” “I wouldn’t go that far,” says Riley. “Now, coming up next, we’ve got Judge William Hearford taking on Michael Craven to see who meets that thick piece of Buffalo meat at Genesis IV! Stay tuned, you bunch of boobs!”

Taylor Nicholas Thompson sits alone in his darkened locker room, hunched over and tying one of his black, generic wrestling boots. His match tonight – featuring him and his tag team partner the Boston Strangler, is up next, and he’s admittedly a bit edgy, for this will be his first match in a month… his first match since his nemesis, Danny Williams, put him out of action with quite a hefty concussion. He dealt with Danny, of course, getting his revenge by giving his rival a concussion of his own, but now he’s got to get back in the ring against his former stable mate Tom Flesher, and a man who he still considers young blood – Ejiro Fasaki. “Gonna be a tough night…” Taylor mutters to himself under his breath, speaking to no one in particular… but unbeknownst to him, someone indeed is there to answer his observation. “I’d say so. Hope you’re ready to get back in there.” TNT’s head shoots up as if it was automatically operated via springs, and his eyes immediately dart to the door… that couldn’t be… oh fuck, it is. “…” Thompson doesn’t really have anything special to say to Danny Williams right now, so he more or less just shoots him a puzzled look of “…why are you here?-osity.” “You know, I think I’ll be ready to get back in the ring in about a week Taylor… and since I’m known as being a very to-the-point man, I’ll get right to the point. I want a rematch, Taylor. I know that you beat me, and there’s nothing that I can do to change the past, but I believe that if given another chance, I can prove that I’m the better man. After all, last time we fought, you must admit that it was a tough fight.” In his head, Taylor is very concerned about going through hell again… for the second time… against his former mentor Danny Williams, but he can’t think of much of an excuse to deny his challenge, so he tries to act as confident as he can about it. “…So you want me to beat you again? Didn’t you learn where you stand on this roster at Ground Zero?” “You heard me. I think I can beat you this time… in fact, I’m POSITIVE I can. All I need is one more chance… and so I’m asking you nicely if I can have one more shot at you… one more shot at proving that I can take just about anyone in this damn fed. I fell short last time, but I’ve just GOT to try again Taylor, because if I can’t beat you… if I’m doomed to stay below my own student in this fed for the rest of my career… well, I just don’t know how I can settle with that. I’ve got something to prove to myself… I’ve got something to prove to the fans, and I’ve got something to prove to YOU, Taylor. I ask you nicely for one more ‘continue’ in the game of TNT… I BEG you, because this is the only way that I can prove to everyone that I’m as good as I think I can be.” “…One more ‘continue’ in the game of TNT?” Taylor asks, almost chuckling. “Make sure to work on your metaphors, Danny…” “If it’s not too much to ask, I’d just like an answer.” “…Well, I too once had to prove myself, and I did when I won the World Heavyweight Championship… but I don’t think you can do it. But if facing you one last time will shut you up and prove that I still have it – that I have my place on the card for a REASON… then yes, Danno, you’ve got your match… Genesis sound good?” “I’ll be able to get in the ring by next show,” Danny replies, obviously eager to get in the ring with his student again as soon as possible. Taylor grins. “Well who knows, maybe we can have a little warm-up in another tag match, eh? But when I beat you one-on-one, I want it to be at the biggest stage of the year – SWF Genesis. Beating you isn’t enough for me now Danny. I want it to go down in the RECORD BOOKS that Taylor Thompson is the better man. Just like my Clusterfuck win is in the record books, when I proved that I could rumble with the best of ‘em, and just like my World Title win over Magnifico is in the record books, when I proved that I was the best man in the business. I want everyone to look back on Genesis IV and think ‘Oh, that’s when TNT made the World know that he was better than Danny Williams… that he still had it… that he could still rumble with the best of ‘em. That’s when Taylor soared to the top of the federation once again.” “…We’ll see Taylor, but I’ll warn you – I’m determined.” ”Well then that makes two of us… I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into, because—“ “…I’ll just have to wait and see what I’m getting into once we’re in the ring, won’t I? That’s where it matters, after all. Thanks for the challenge acceptance, Taylor. And good luck in your match tonight… consider Flesher and his lackie to be target practice before you really go out hunting, because at Genesis, I’ll give you everything I’ve got.” “And every inch of me will fight back,” TNT responds, but by then, Danny is already gone.

We return to the Savvis Center in sparkling St. Louis, as SWF Lockdown returns to the airwaves. “The crowd is abuzz!” shouts Cyclone Comet over the murmur of the audience. “John Duran and Va’aiga have just fought a hell of a match, and now Thugg and Mark have an in-ring appointment just moments away, per their stalker of sorts!” “Stalker? Come on, Comet. What makes you say that?” “Well, Citizen Riley, he’s sending them messages, right?” “Yeah...” “And seems to be lurking around the building, right?” “Yeah…” “And is an agent of the nefarious Suicide--” “Hey, you stop right there! He’s not nefarious!” “He’s not?” “…well, not in a bad way.” “Sometimes…” And the crack of a bat suddenly cuts off our bickering duo as the fans rise to their feet! Pyro rockets outward and the Blessid Union of Souls’ “Go Home” bursts over the speakers, announcing the arrival of… …a limping Mark Stevens. The crowd deflates as their hobbles down towards the ring, still stubbornly slapping high-fives as best he can. “You know,” says Riley, as Mark slowly mounts the stairs into the ring, “for all Mark’s complaints, Thugg is right. He doesn’t really need Mark now that he’s got Bastion.” “What, the unspeaking evildoer?” snaps Comet. “I don’t feel too comfortable with him in charge of my job security.” “Go Home” fades out as Funyon slips a microphone to Mark. The crowd murmurs in anticipation… “All right,” he booms, his voice losing none of its legendary power, “let’s get this--” THEY DON’T KNOW— WHO WE BEEEE! And the words of Mark Stevens are unceremoniously cut off to a familiar tune…and surprisingly mixed reaction for the Hville Thugg! The big black man rolls out towards the ramp, determination etched on his face…and a bigger, blacker menace covering his six. “Whoa! That note didn’t say anything about Bastion!” Comet’s irritated and so is Mark, who walks up to the ropes and starts shouting as the untethered beast wheels his brother down to ringside. The crowd can’t decide who to cheer…but they’re at least quieted into fear as Bastion lifts Thugg up, wheelchair and all, and slides him into the ring. “Bastion’s power is absolutely immense,” says Riley. “He seems tougher than Thugg ever was—none of that softy ‘wah wah I care about the fans’ crap that he’s gotten so afflicted with lately.” Thugg raises his arms in the ring to soak in a fan reaction, and… “Cut his music already. Come on.” Mark’s unusually curt response is quickly filled, and Bastion steps forward, eying the knee. Thugg wheels in front of him, waving him off, and the bigger, angrier black man disappointedly stalks to the corner, never taking his eyes off Mark. “All right, Thugg,” begins Mark, as the crowd cheers and mumbles. “I don’t like Bastion out here. But you know that. I don’t like being out here, either. I don’t like being set up. So let me tell you this now: if this is all a trick, if this is just some ploy to get me out here so Bastion can finish me off…let’s do it now.” “Bold words from the Heavy Hitter!” chimes Comet. “I’m ready, Thugg. Are you?” Mark throws down the mic and gets into a ready stance, and Bastion steps out of the corner… “Whoa, whoa, WHOA dawg. This isn’t me. You KNOW that, Mark. Takin you out does me no good—it puts me back where I was. Who I want—naw, it ain’t you Mark. It’s that shithead—that coward—that motherfuckin’ BUM!”—BIG cheer from the crowd—“who won’t show his face. So come on, King, Flesher, whoever the hell you are—come out here and say what you’ve got to say!” And then… …darkness. Silence. And a heavy, static thrum. “Citizens and fans of the SWF, I don’t know what’s going on,” says Comet. In the ring, in the shadows, Thugg rolls back and forth anxiously. “Keep your eye on the ramp, Bastion…I got the crowd…I ain’t getting broke today…” The noise rolls out, in languid, sonorous waves. Imperceptible below, the faintest hints of melody start to pick through…and then, a sharp drum hit as the Smarktron flashes white for just a moment… “Comet, you have any idea--” “I was just about to ask you…” And another flash of white. Another. Another. Faster. Sudden. Fading. Glowing. The sound breaks. Hovers. Crashes. The crowd is lost. “Folks, I have NO idea what is going on…” From the ring, a bellow: “GODDAMMIT, SHOW YOURSELF!” And then…it happens fast. Unbelievably fast. Two spotlights flare out of the darkness. Blue. Bright blue. Spinning, out across the crowd. Across Mark and Thugg. Back towards the entrance as a stuttering drumbeat echoes out… Backstage, CIA and Mak Francis look up at the monitor. You don’t believe it. Dante Crane noodles another cigarette and cocks his head. You don’t think it’s possible. Tom Flesher files a nail and raises an eyebrow. I have one thing to say to you: Believe. “Bobby…oh my god…” … “I SAID HALLELUJAH!” “HOLY SHIT!” “TO THE SIXTEEN LOYAL FANS!” RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! “NOW GET DOWN ON YOUR MOTHERFUCKIN KNEES…” “HE’S HERE, HE’S HERE!” “CAUSE IT’S TIME FOR YOUR SICKNESS AGAIN!” The Savvis Center flares into immense brights, red, golds, purples, spinning, not a person in their seat, not a seat weighed down, gaping maws in the ring…and a MASSIVE wall of pyrotechnics reveals the one, the only… “IT’S EDWIN MAC-FUCKIN-PHISTO!” Standing beneath the lights of the Savvis Center, clad in acid-wash white jeans, a short-cut leather jacket, and hair—black hair, plain hair, not glamorous glossy hair, is the sharp chin, the wild eyes, and the lanky gait so familiar, so recent, so 12 months off from the line. In the ring, Mark and Thugg are just staring, jaws dropped, eyes occasionally meeting. Another eruption of pyro blasts outward as the Crown Prince stands with his arms raised, absorbing his first SWF crowd in nearly a year! “I don’t believe what I’m seeing!” screams Cyclone Comet. “The man who abandoned the fed…disappeared after Genesis 3, disappeared after the crippling of his friend Chris Raynor…he’s back! Edwin MacPhisto is back!” “I was his first tag partner!” “I was his first commentator!” The adulation is something else—it takes Edwin a good minute to start the walk down the ramp. He slaps hands, he smiles—he doesn’t look the same, but he’s revitalized, stronger…a man on a mission. “Battleflag” blares on as Edwin makes his way to the ring, and Mark steps to the ropes, throwing his hands over the side to help Edwin up. The two friends look at each other as the crowd roars…and take each other into a manly hug of disbelief and joyous shock! “Look at Mark,” says Comet, “totally taken aback! Now we know who’s been calling him the last week—now we know who’s been trying so desperately to get in touch!” Edwin breaks away from Mark’s astonished embrace and turns to face Thugg…who greets him with a mammoth handshake and a huge bellowing laugh! The Mac Daddy hops up onto the turnbuckle, unable to hide his joy any longer, throwing his arms in the air as the crowd begins a chant too long gone: “MAC-PHIST-OOOOO!” “MAC-PHIST-OOOOO!” “MAC-PHIST-OOOOO!” Edwin backs down, and Funyon and another handful of ring attendants are all clamoring to give him a microphone. He takes Funyon’s with a sly nod, and paces around the ring, noting the confused Bastion with careful precision and a light curtsy, which perplexes the beast even further. The Mac Daddy raises the mic to speak… “MAC-PHIST-OOOOO!” “MAC-PHIST-OOOOO!” “MAC-PHIST-OOOOO!” “I don’t know if I’ve seen anything like this before,” says an awestruck Comet. “One year away, and the world still at his feet…” “MAC-PHIST-OOOOO!” “MAC-PHIST-OOOOO!” And with a massive grin, the Mac Daddy waves his hand, quieting the crowd…just a bit, but just enough to make him audible: “Honey…I’m home.” RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! “And, though I hate to admit it…it feels…wonderful.” RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! “You don’t have to cheer after everything I say, you know.” RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! “…all right then, go right ahead! But I won’t let you get a word in, and I’m going to make this quick. Mark, Thugg. Hello!” “Edwin, you sonofabitch!” says Mark. “Why didn’t you just--” “Tell you? I know, I know—uncouth of me, Duluth of me—frankly, just plain rude of me.” The Crown Prince paces, still bathing in the astonished adulation of the Savvis Center. “But I had to do it this way, Mark. I’m sorry for bothering Lynn at home, I’m sorry for being so elusive—but it was the only way in. I’ve been watching. You might not have seen but I’ve been watching. On TV. From hotels. I was at 13th Hour, you know—nosebleed seats, in heavy make-up. Ever since King came back I’ve had my eye on things. He fired you, Mark, and I was near ready to roll into town, on a steel horse I ride, and take King down in a Bon Jovi style beating that’d leave him living on a prayer at best. And then you two came back, and my heart warmed.” “Yo, Edwin—look.” “Thugg,” says Edwin, “I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to take away your speaking privileges for just a moment. I don’t have much time. I’m in and out because I feel I need to be—you know how much it takes to make me come back to this place? Even this arena, where I won my first world title--” RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! “A year and a half ago, at Crossfire, from you, Damien! From you! This place—my happiest arena! And it still took endless reason, endless coin tosses, games of rock paper scissors with myself to come back. There’s too much here—people I don’t want to see. People I can’t want to see.” “Silent?” Looking down momentarily, Edwin moves on. “But…I’m still here. I need to be. Because you need me, if only tonight.” Mark leans up against the ropes and Thugg rolls over towards Bastion, telling him to chill. Edwin continues to speak. “I’ve been watching. I’ve been cruising the country. I’m not here to fight; I’m here to mediate. You know what you can accomplish together, don’t you?” “Edwin,” says Mark, “with my leg this--” “Your leg nothing, Mark!” Edwin claps Stevens on the shoulder. “Your leg’s been a problem forever! You think outside the box—you can take King out no matter what Thugg’s hired gun inadvertently does to you! You can take King out…and you have to. And the way you two are acting…” Edwin pauses. “…you won’t.” “Aw Edwin, come on! Bro, look--” “Thugg, look at you two. You can barely control Bastion. Mark’s unmotivated. You’re at each other’s throats. It’s not going to work! Any imbecile can see that, and I’m the imbecile for the bloody job! You want to take out King, you need to put aside this petty nonsense and take him out—don’t fight over who gets control! Worry about that when he’s OUT of power! He’s driven this fed to nowhere—he’s fired Mark, played games with the employees, and even fired most of the catering staff! You know how foul those burgers are? Repulsive! He’s driving the SWF to the ground, and I’m here to tell you that yes, you two have to stop him—but you can ONLY do it together.” The crowd gives a huge cheer, and Mark looks at Thugg. “Remember,” says Edwin, starting to lope around the ring in grand, dramatic strides, painted landscapes with his hands. “Remember what you’ve done? Two of the only two-time world champions this fed has ever seen. Two astonishing minds for the business. And most importantly—two people who hate King!” Another HUGE cheer! Edwin gets in Thugg’s face, down on one knee as if proposing marriage to him with an open palm. “Never forget that, not for a bloody moment! You’re Jean Valjean, he’s Javert, he’s the government, you’re Robespierre! Take King out! Snuff King out! Hit him,” he says, affecting a southern twang and folding his palm into a fist, “till he can’t be hit no more!” “He’s got the crowd in the palm of his hand, Comet.” “But does he have Stevens and Thugg along for the ride?” “Remember the Carnival, Mark? Remember all that? Fighting for good, justice, and the American way of irritating interior design? Make this place good enough for pranks again. Make it a place where everyone doesn’t have to live in fear of their jobs. Show everyone how much it’s worth to you!” “I can’t stick around,” says Edwin, and the crowd murmurs its dissatisfaction. “You know it, and I know it. Too much…unfinished business. Too many hard feelings. This is a rush, for sure,” and the crowd cheers return, “but I still don’t feel right here. It’s not a well-oiled machine with me around—it’s a clunky carburetor. I’ve got demons, I’ve got problems, I’ve got malarkey out the wazoo…but you two have the chance to do something great.” “Put everything aside—put it all side. Put aside the knee, the bad blood in the past—that’s the past. You’ve both done questionable things in the past—but you’ve also achieved greatness. Today you’re in the now. Today…you’ve got the chance to make this federation brighter, stronger, and better than it’s ever been. Better than when we were running the show—better, by far, than it’s been with one-time friend and full-time madman Brian Applewhite in charge. Look at the talent! Mak Francis! Danny Williams! Wildchild! Energy, excitement, ability—it’s all here for the taking, for the show, for the grandest stage in all the land. They just need us—they need you—to be the opening act. Wow the crowd, Mark. Take them in your hands, Thugg. Show them that they can get past King—you’ll figure something out.” “Genesis means ‘beginning.’ Let it mean something this time—let out your rebel yell!” Edwin pumps his fist like Billy Idol, and screams out with infinite enthusiasm. “Cry ‘more, more more more!’ Wade into them! Spill THEIR blood! Don’t peel potatoes in Poughkeepsie! Don’t shovel sty in Sheboygan! Take what you want, but take it well—can you do this? Will you do this? Will you be Generals or jokers? I’m a joker—always have been. Stand up. Shut King down. Let me stop talking. And just do the right thing.” Edwin lowers his mic. The crowd roars. And Mark looks to him. “If you go…and you leave us to do this…” He nods at Thugg. “…will you at least leave us a phone number this time?” The crowd laughs, and Edwin palms a small piece of paper to Mark. Now Mark turns to Thugg, his eyes on Bastion… …and receives a hearty handshake and a huge, still-shocked grin. The Savvis Center fans burst into ovation…and Edwin takes a bow. “It’s a one-shot deal, ladies and gents. I’ve been around the world these last 12 months. I can’t stay here. But I’ll keep in touch. You’ll hear from me again…when everything’s right in our little world. Hallelujah and Amen—step right up, ladies and gentlemen, and give a round of applause to the future leaders of the SWF!” And before Mark and Thugg can turn, Edwin dives out of the ring…and dives into the crowd! “He’s surfing his way out! That nutball!” “Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve just witnessed something truly bizarre!” says Comet. “Edwin MacPhisto, one of the SWF’s legends, a Hall of Fame inductee, has returned…but just for a moment! I don’t know what’s happening, and I’m still in shock, but—we’ve got to go to commercial! Stevens and Thugg reunited after a huge pep talk from an old friend—and—I’m still in shock! We’ll be back—man, oh man! But before we cut to commercial, we head backstage for a moment to a shot of…a glass? And a hand, indistinct, massive…clenched… CRACK. Red liquid screams down the side of the glass. The camera zooms out… …to reveal Nathaniel Kibagami. He turns to a road agent. He drops the glass fragments. He blinks. And he begins to walk. He's not getting away this time.

Comet: Well citizens, we’ve got an incredible contest coming up for you next, as two of the SWF’s bigger competitors BUTT heads in what should be a fine exhibition of power wrestling. Riley: Well I’ll agree that Va’aiga IS a butthead, but given the competitors involved, I’m not sure fine exhibition is what comes to mind. Were I a redneck ass kisser with nothing better to do than become a parody of my former self, I’d describe this as a slobberknocker. But I’m not, so lets just call it brutal. The arena drops to darkness, as Va'aiga's shadow appears in the entranceway, dressed in his hooded training top with the hood down. Funyon: Introducing first, weighing in at 305lbs and standing 6’9 tall, he is The Maori Badass and one third of the Unholy Trinity… THIS IS VAAAAAAAAAAA’AAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIGGGGGGAAAAAAAAAA The bassline of "Bring The Pain" by Method Man starts up and red strobe lights pierce the darkness of the entrance ramp as Va'aiga begins his slow walk to the ring, throwing a few phantom jabs on the way. The Smarktron shows images of Va'aiga shadow boxing and posing, cut with some of his biggest in ring hits - Maori Dropping Jay Dawg onto a flaming section of canvas, flattening Ejiro with a Lariat, Camel Clutching Jay Dawg with a bent golf club, Maori Dropping CIA through the windshield of the Mag 7 limo, smashing Crow with a chair, staring off with Janus, holding up both the Tag and Hardcore Gamers belts after the tag title win, hitting the Decapitator on Ejiro with Dace Night... Inside the ring Va'aiga rolls down his hood and raises his fists to the crowd, then takes off his top and throws it to a ring assistant before firing off the Maori hand sign. Comet: Va’aiga has gained somewhat of a following in the SWF. Through his no nonsense attitude to dealing with people and his impressive physical stature, he’s a wrestler who’s easy to like. Riley: If people give respect to a big meathead who crushes cars, shouts, swears and doesn’t even have the decency to CHEAT properly, I don’t know what the wrestling public is coming to. Drowning Pool's "Sinner" plays as John Duran comes out, intensely staring at the crowd as they boo him, grimacing in anger as he walks down towards the ring. Funyon: And his opponent, weighing in at 265lbs and standing 6’8 tall, fighting out of Champagne, Illonois… “The Sinner” JOOOOOOOOHHHHHHNNN DUUUUURRAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNNN. Walking down the ramp way Duran avoid the pats on the backl of the fans, stopping to jaw with one or two of them as he strides down to ringside. Duran gets up on the apron and enters the ring, going to the center of the ring and raising his arms, anger and hate apparent in his eyes, before going to the corner and awaiting his opponent. Riley: Now John Duran is a guy I CAN get on with. He’s dedicated, professional and willing to do anything it takes to win. These people should be cheering for him rather than the big Maori lunkhead across the ring from him. Referee Eddy Long checks both the combatants for concealed weapons and finding none he signals over to the timekeeper to start the match. Va’aiga strides forth from his corner, adjusting his wrist tape as the massive Maori takes up a position in the centre of the ring, facing John Duran and holding out his hands, looking for a test of strength. Duran walks out of his corner and obliges, and the pair grit their teeth as they try to overpower each other, neither man budging an inch to his opponent. The interlocked sets of hands are force out to the sides and down through a full half circle before the pair, lacking any purchase to push from their current position break apart and stand off a few steps. Comet: It seems that neither of these behemoths has an edge over the other in raw power. Riley: Va’aiga carries a weight advantage, but as far as height and reach go, the two men are very evenly matched. I’m not sure which way the match would turn if Duran wasn’t willing to use his low cunning. Duran lashes out a kick at Va’aiga, catching the Maori in the stomach and closing in quickly to hoist Va’aiga up over his right shoulder before crashing the Maori down to the mat back first with a powerful high angle body slam. Duran extends a leg in the air and with a little jump, The Sinner drops the leg over the chest of Va’aiga and rolls back to a back press, hooking a leg and beckoning Eddy Long down to count… ONE! And at barely even the one it gone Va’aiga kicks out powerfully sending John Duran across the ring. Comet: It’s going to take a lot more than a body slam and a leg drop to deal with the power of the Maori Badass! Va’aiga hops to his feet faster than Duran can, to the strains of a roar from the crowd, and locks in a side headlock quickly, before Duran can draw himself up to his full height. Va’aiga fires off a quick pair of knees into the stomach of the Sinner and hoists the powerfully built Illinoisan over a big Maori shoulder, before slamming Duran down to the mat. Va’aiga: BOO-YAH! The crowd responds with a huge cheer again for the Maori as Va’aiga leaps and extends a leg parallel to the mat, dropping it across the downed John Duran’s chest. Va’aiga rolls back and hooks a leg of Duran’s and Eddy Long is again quick in dropping to the mat and slapping his hand down… ONE! And with a jolt of his body Duran throws Va’aiga clear, stopping the count. Va’aiga springs to his feet again as John Duran springs to his, and the pair face off, Va’aiga stopping to give Duran a tiny round of applause as the crowd cheer wildly. Riley: It’s going to take a lot more than a body slam and a leg drop to deal with the power of The Sinner! Comet: These two giants of the SWF rings are going at it toe to toe, blow for blow. It’s like seeing The Incredible Hulk and The Beast fight. Only different. Riley: And they PAY you to come up with this “commentary”? Va’aiga and Duran lock up into a collar and elbow tie up. Va’aiga switches up first, taking Duran over into a top wristlock, and then round to a hammerlock. Duran grabs for Va’aiga’s head and snapmares the Maori over, following up with a solid kick to the spine for good measure. Duran lifts Va’aiga off the mat and grabbing the Maori by his tattoo covered arm, flings Va’aiga into the far ropes. John Duran leaps against the ropes nearest to him and catapults himself into a full paced run and as both combatants shape for shoulder blocks, and with an almighty crash, the pair bounce off each other in the centre of the ring. The crowd gives an appreciative ooh. Comet: I’m not sure either of these giants are going to budge an inch here. Rliey: Well, DUH, Comet. I’m sure most of our viewers at home have picked that up by now. Comet: There’s no need to be insulting, Robert. Duran and Va’aiga stare off and both fire themselves at the ropes again, both bouncing off and flying back towards the centre of the ring again. Va’aiga lashes out a clothesline, but Duran ducks low looking for a tackle and the pair rebound again off the ropes on the opposite sides. As they catapult back towards the centre of the ring John Duran looks for a clothesline and Va’aiga ducks low looking for a tackle, and AGAIN the pair miss and rebound. Both shape for shoulderblocks as they bounce off again, and the pair at full tilt charge headlong at each other and again as shoulder clash the pair do little but bounce off each other and draw a round of shocked ooohs. Comet: Someone is going to have to get the upper hand in this match soon. I’m confident that Va’aiga’s slight experience advantage in SWF rings will provide the Maori with all the opportunities he needs to win this match. Riley: And if not Duran can always cheat! See Va’aiga’s scruples are going to drag him down every time he meets an opponent of equal power to him. John Duran rears back and growls at his immovable Maori opponent, firing off a quick sequence of body shots that drives Va’aiga back a few paces, but Va’aiga sucks them up and fires off a triad of rapid right hands of his own, staggering Duran. Va’aiga grabs for Duran’s arm and whips the big man forcefully into one of the corners of the ring, and Duran reels in pain as his back hits the ring post. Va’aiga charges in, but isn’t quite fast enough as Duran gets his hand up and eye rakes Va’aiga, and as the Maori reels from the blow to his eyes, Duran grabs for the head of Va’aiga and puts the Maori Badass down with a lightning fast reverse neckbreaker. Riley: See? Cheating is the only way to prosper! Comet: Cheats never prosper in the end! Riley: Say that to Suicide King’s face. You’ll be out of here faster than Mark Stevens was. John Duran picks Va’aiga up from the ground, locking his hooks in, clinching up Va’aiga like a boxer before firing a few knee lifts into the chest of the Maori Badass. Duran lower his grip on Va’aiga and whisks the Maori round, taking him down with a firm belly to belly suplex. Duran hooks a leg and Eddy Long drops down to count… ONE! TWO! TH.. and Va’aiga kicks out. Duran curses to himself and keeps the pressure on Va’aiga with a few stomps. Riley: A powerful suplex there from Duran and I can feel the tide turning in this match towards The Sinner. See with that eye rake, Comet, Duran stopped even the almighty Va’aiga dead in his tracks. Comet: Well I STILL think Va’aiga can beat John Duran. John Duran stands, taking the Maori Badass up to a vertical base with him, firing another pair of Duran’s trademark knees to keep Va’aiga off balance. Duran takes a deep breath in and using all his strength, hoists the 300lb plus Maori over his head in a Gorilla Press! The crowd oohs and aahs at this stupendous feat of strength as Duran takes a step forward and drops the Maori Badass behind him with a resounding splat of Maori on canvas. Duran drops to cover again… ONE! TWO! TH.. and Va’aiga kicks out. Duran: Damn! Riley: What strength! What power! I’ve NEVER seen Va’aiga manhandled like that before. Comet: I am impressed. That’s a near superhuman feat of strength, pressing a 305lb monster like Va’aiga with such little apparent effort. Duran curses to himself again and draws himself up, lifting Va’aiga again as he stands. Duran grabs Va’aiga and slings the big Maori unceremoniously into a corner, following in with a powerful shoulder first charge that causes Va’aiga to double up in pain. Duran grabs the Maori Badass by the head and smashes Va’aiga backwards so the nape of his neck jars into the top turnbuckle pad. Duran draws back a couple of paces and fires off four KILLER body blows into the solar plexus of Va’aiga, left, right, left, right, before the final act of malice in the corner, forcing his boot RIGHT into the Maori Badass’ windpipe, drawing Eddy Long over to give him a five count to break. Duran waits for a LONG four count before standing off, and as Va’aiga staggers out of the corner Duran PLANTS him with a Spinebuster, dropping Va’aiga in the middle of the ring with a resounding thud. Riley: SPAHN ON THE PAHN, BY GAWD! IT’S A SLOBBERKNOCKER! A SLOBBERKNOCKER! Comet: Calm down Robert. Riley: I’m sorry, it’s easy to get carried away when Va’aiga is getting his Bad Maori Ass handed to him. Duran drops a leg again on Va’aiga, interrupting the starfish like state of the Maori Badass. From hi position laying across Va’aiga Duran again leans backwards and hooks a leg, and Eddy Long scoots round quickly to count… ONE! TWO! TH.. and Va’aiga kicks out again. Duran mutters to himself as the crowd cheers for the Maori’s kick out. Comet: Duran maybe took a little time covering Va’aiga there, and with maybe not a perfect cover, Va’aiga had the strength to kick out. Riley: Shouldn’t take too long now for John Duran to finish Va’aiga off though. Sin to Win, baby! Duran picks Va’aiga up again, locking in a side headlock and snapping the Maori over quickly with a crisply delivered vertical suplex. Duran pounds a few more blows into the chest of Va’aiga before drawing the Maori up again, and with a grasping pull, Duran shoots Va’aiga off into the ropes again with another Irish Whip. Duran swings an arm high, looking to clothesline the Maori down, but somehow Va’aiga ducks under the blow and as Va’aiga rebounds off the far ropes, he ducks down and takes out John Duran with a knee clip! The crowd starts a “VA-ING-UH! VA-ING-UH!” chat as the Maori Badass slowly stands, clutching at his ribs. Comet: Va’aiga with the chop block taking John Duran down. Could this be the breakthrough the Maori is looking for? Va’aiga waits for John Duran to stand, clutching his ribs again briefly as Duran slowly returns to a vertical base. Va’aiga turns to Duran and fires off a powerful left cross, staggering Duran backwards and drawing a massive shout of “ONE!” from the crowd. Va’aiga fires off a second left cross, smashing a powerful shot into Duran’s cheek and as the crowd shouts “TWO!” the Maori Badass has already drawn his hand back ready to fire off the third shot. Duran staggers backwards again and the crowd begins warming up with an “oooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAH” as Va’aiga places his right hand to his lips, but Duran draws a HUMONGOUS “BOOOOOO!” as he dives at Va’aiga and rakes the eyes once more, and Va’aiga staggers back blinded only to be taken down by a MASSIVE running tackle from the Sinner! Riley: Ha! You see! You’ll never learn Comet, Duran cheated again and Duran is on top again. All he has to do is cheat every time Va’aiga even half looks like getting the advantage and he’ll win easily. Comet: You really have no moral code at all, do you Robert? Duran fires another pair of knees into Va’aiga’s chest and grabs a front waistlock, effortlessly taking the Maori down with an amateur style suplex, before hooking a leg and asking Eddy Long to count again… ONE! TWO! THR.. and Va’aiga kicks out again! The Sinner stands and draws a hand back through his hair, taking a brief moment to contemplate what he should do next. Duran lifts Va’aiga off the ground by the THROAT this time and much to the protestations of Eddy Long holds onto the goozle and parades Va’aiga to all four sides of the arena, who offer a hearty round of boos in response. Comet: Oh no! The Sinner is going to chokeslam the Maori! This can’t be happening. Riley: It IS happening comet, and you’d better learn to deal with it. John Duran is sinning, and John Duran is close to winning! Duran, keeping a firm hold of Va’aiga’s throat, slides Va’aiga’s right arm over Duran’s own right shoulder and with a exhalation of breath and a strained expression, as every sinew in Duran’s body strains as he attempts to shift the gigantic form of the Maori Badass. Duran struggles and strains for a few brief seconds before finally lifting his Maori opponent up and with a not entirely convincing chokeslam, Duran takes Va’aiga down to the canvas Duran rolls over to cover… ONE! TWO! THRE.. NO! Va’aiga just barely manages to kick out. Riley: A chokeslam! A Massive chokeslam on the 305lb Va’aiga! I’m not sure how much more punishment the Maori Badass will be able to take. Comet: I’ll have to admit things aren’t looking too good for Va’aiga as it stands. Riley: They certainly aren’t! Destroyer of cars, destroyed by Duran! I love it! Duran, breathing heavily from all the exertion, picks himself up off the canvas and looks out with a sneer to the massed fans in the crowd. Duran lifts Va’aiga up by the arm and again whips the Maori into the ropes, snapping Va’aiga back down to the mat as he returns to the Sinner with a VICIOUS powerslam. Duran stands a little more quickly this time and offers a quick shout… Duran: It’s OVER! Riley: Duran is looking to finish the Maori Badass once and for all. It’s been all Sin all the time so far and Duran just needs to wrap those cobra like legs of his round Va’aiga and we’ll see the bitch TAP! The crowd just has time to finish booing Duran as he reaches down to lift Va’aiga off the canvas. Duran slides first his left arm, then his right underneath the armpits of the Maori Badass and locks his hands together on the back of Va’aiga’s neck. Duran goes to lift the Maori up to deliver the Full Nelson Bomb that opens up his lethal Point Break finishing combination. Duran strains to lift Va’aiga, and the Maori buys himself a little time by sliding a leg in between Duran’s preventing Duran from lifting him cleanly. Comet: This could be it… this could be the Point Break! Riley: FINISH HIM DURAN! Duran tries again to lift Va’aiga and again the Maori uses his leg to block the Full Nelson Bomb. Duran changes stance and kicks away at Va’aiga’s leg, clearing his way to Point Break Va’aiga again, but Va’aiga seizes the opportunity to slip round and reverse the Full Nelson! Duran shakes his head and struggles furiously but Va’aiga snaps him over with a RELEASE DRAGON SUPLEX!!! Riley: GOD DAMNIT NO! Comet: Calm down Robert. Va’aiga struggles, stumbles and slowly, still clutching at his ribs. The massive Maori backs away from Duran a couple of steps as the Sinner struggles back to his feet. Duran dives for Va’aiga reaching a claw like hand towards Va’aiga’s face, but as Duran attempts another eye rake, Va’aiga clutches Duran’s wrist and blocks the blinding blow, wrenching Duran’s arm around and then dragging the unfortunate Sinner into a MASSIVE short arm clothesline! The crowd starts a massive “VA-ING-UH! VA-ING-UH!” chant as Va’aiga draws himself to his full height and calls out… Va’aiga: BOO-YAH! Comet: John Duran went to the cheat well once too often, and instead of a big bucket of cheat he found the well was dry…of cheat! Riley: Could you STRETCH that metaphor any further? Va’aiga composes himself and with a deep breath, reaches down to lift John Duran off the canvas. Va’aiga staggers Duran back with a quick flurry of punches and then whips Duran into the ropes, charging in after him and knocking Duran down to the ground with a MASSIVE tackle! Comet: Va’aiga drawing on his Rugby background with that tackle. With the Rugby world cup not far away Va’aiga must be in the mood for it! Va’aiga drops to a low two point stance waiting for John Duran to stand again, and as the 6’8 Duran stands slowly, and stumbles around a few paces on groggy, wobbly legs, Va’aiga charges and flattens him with a second tackle! Va’aiga dives over the fallen Duran and hooks a leg… ONE! TWO! THR.. NO! And Duran kicks out, just. Comet: Another tackle and a close call for John Duran. Riley: I know Duran can take more than that! John Duran is one of the most promising up and comers in professional wrestling today! Va’aiga grabs Duran off the ground and thrusts the Sinner into a standing head scissors, taking a few moments to survey the cheering masses before acting again. Va’aiga grabs John Duran around the waist and hoists the big guy onto his shoulders before throwing Duran clear of him with a massive Release Powerbomb! Va’aiga: COME ON! Va’aiga stands ready, beckoning Duran up to his feet as the crowd chants for him grow stronger. Duran gets first to one knee, then up to his feet facing away from Va’aiga. Duran turns slowly and as he finally turns to see the Maori Badass, it’s a Maori Badass at full charge speed as Va’aiga extends an arm and sends John Duran flying with the YOU THINK YOU’RE BIG, YOU’RE NOT BIG ENOUGH FOR THIS, YOU WILL NEVER BE BIG ENOUGH FOR THIS, NO-ONE WILL EVER BE BIG ENOUGH FOR THIS LAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIAAAAAAAAAAAATTTTTTTTTTOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHH!! Comet: Oh my God! I’ve seen him smash that massive Lariat and near wipe out Quiz. I’ve seen him destroy Ejiro with it. I’ve even seen him fire one off at CIA, but the way that sent John Duran flying, that is truly impressive power. Va’aiga turns again to Duran, lifting the Sinner off the canvas and sliding one arm between Duran’s legs, hoisting him up to a Pumphandle position. Va’aiga calls out… Va’aiga: DROP! …And the crowd goes BALLISTIC. Va’aiga scrunches his face up into a ball of rage and lifts John Duran up from the Pumphandle, leaping into the air and Dropping Duran back first to the mat, and landing full 305lb bodyweight across the Sinner’s chest! Comet: PUMPHANDLE MAORI DROP! Va’aiga hooks a leg and covers, and referee Eddy Long drops to count, the crowd chanting along… ONE! TWO! THRE.. NO! Riley: UNBELEIVABLE! John Duran kicks out of a PUMPHANDLE MAORI DROP! Comet: I see it, but I’m still not sure I believe it! John Duran has taken one of the Maori’s biggest moves and still kicked out! Va’aiga, seething with frustration, lifts John Duran up again and fires off a pair of toe kicks and a quick right hand uppercut to keep his muscular enemy staggered. Duran acting on impulse alone kicks out and forces Va’aiga to take a step back! Sensing a chance to get back into the match John Duran fires off another kicks bending Va’aiga double, and this gives Duran all the chance he needs to apply a standing head scissors! Riley: This could be it for Va’aiga, this could be the Ultimate Sin! Duran hoists Va’aiga up so the Maori Badass is leaning back to back with him, then extends both of Va’aiga’s arms, but the fatigue of the match seems to affect Duran and Va’aiga somehow manages to slip loose! The Maori Badass turns and grabs Duran by the throat from behind, raising his free arm to the sky before dropping Duran down with a huge Inverted DDT! Va’aiga holds on to John Duran’s neck and wraps his massive legs around John Duran’s waist, locking the Sinner up tight! Riley: That’s a choke! Va’aiga has John Duran in an illegal chokehold! Comet: That’s no choke! That’s a variation of the Dragon Sleeper! Va’aiga has John Duran clutched in tight and there’s nowhere for the Sinner to go! Va’aiga clutches in tight, bending John Duran’s back by pulling down on the Dragon Sleeper and on his vice like body scissors, arching Duran against his will while all the time denying blood to the Sinner’s brain through the tight hold the Maori Badass has on Duran’s carotid artery. Va’aiga calls for Eddy Long to ask Duran, and Duran responds with a muffled no! Riley: Duran is trapped, I’m not even sure he can cheat his way out of this situation. Things are looking grim for the Sinner, but at least he’s remaining defiant. Duran struggles and attempts to roll the hold over, but Va’aiga’s vice like grip holds firm and Duran fails to move the Maori more than a few centimetres. Duran tries to roll with the momentum and turn the hold the other way but again the Maori Badass has Duran locked up tight and is proving impossible to budge. The crowd noise builds with another stadium wide pro Maori chant, and again Va’aiga asks Eddy Long to check on Duran, and this time the no comes, but is definitely fainter. Comet: I’m not sure how much longer John Duran can hold out in this vicious submission manoeuvre. Duran seems to have stopped struggling as the submission hold is locked in tight, and Eddy Long again asks John Duran if he’s willing to give up. No reply is forthcoming so the #2 referee in the whole SWF system takes the direct approach and lifts John Duran’s arm. It sinks back to the canvas. Long tries again as Va’aiga grunts and growls and exerts as much pressure as he can muster, and again the arm drops. Duran, trapped in the hold has his arm lifted for a third time and he summons up every last reserve of energy he can and… …still it drops! Eddy Long waves over for the bell to be sounded! Va’aiga releases the sumbmission and calls for a mic to be thrown to him in the ring! Comet: And through LEGITAMATE wrestling, Va’aiga is the winner. See Riley it can be done. Riley mutters quietly to himself as Va’aiga, puffing and panting from all his exertion addresses the crowd. Va’aiga: THAT, my people, was the awesome power of the Pacific Stretch! Now a lot of guys been pissing off the Maori Badass, and I thought I’d best show a little more of what this brother can do. See I been SCREWED out of the tag titles, booked against a team me and the Dace already beat and thrown into a Triple Threat that messed with our heads. Then we get to fight ANOTHER team we brushed aside once and get shocked out of our rematch. The crowd boos at this. Va’aiga: Now this brother ain’t gonna deal with this shit no more. Gonna find out who’s been screweing BACKSTAGE with the Unholy Trinity, and I’m gonna BUST SOME HEADS! Don’t mess with the Maori, cos he’ll turn up and KICK YO ASS! BOO-YAH! The wild Pavlovian cheering of the crowd fades out with the picture as we cut to commericals

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

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

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