Toxxic

I'm liking the build for this match, I must admit. I look forward to it.

Because you won't be going "oh yes that's right" in Will's match, and "no, that's not right" in Drew's. Which I would be, even if I tried not to let it affect my marking. basically, I'd be able to visualise Will's match far better cos he'll fit it right into the actual layout, which would probably make it seem better to me.

...I'd forgotten about that name. Done.

Ok. As soon as I have someone as an opponent for you, I'll make the match!

The SWF presents.. SWF NEW YEAR'S PARTY!! LIVE to DVD from the Trent FM Arena, Nottingham, England at 9pm GMT on Tuesday 6th January, 2009! Yes, after the festive siege that is Christmas and New Year it's going to be time to lose (or ignore) the hangover and get back into shape after all that turkey and mince pies, as the SWF hops across the pond to ring in 2009 in the General Manager's home city! 10,000 of Toxxic's fellow countrymen will be raising the roof as the SWF superstars do battle... COLD FRONT CLASSIC FINAL Taiga Star© vs Tod James Stuart Well now, who'd have thought it? The SWF's Cruiserweight Champion goes head-to-head with one-half of the team currently Number One Contenders for the Breslins' Tag Titles. Taiga defeated fellow DVS star Kevin Riggs, then beat out the enigmatic MANSON and former World Champion Thoth to reach the final, while Tod defeated Riggs' tag team partner X-Punk, handed Luke Breslin his first singles loss and finally took out former World Champion Michael Alexander. With Taiga having failed to capture the DVS European Title from Va'aiga, will she have more luck in her attempt to get a chance to take his SWF World Title? Meanwhile Tod wants to prove that he's capable of more than just the brave showing he put in against Insane Luchador the last time he went up against a reigning World Champion. The winner of this match gets the World Title shot... in the stipulation of their choosing. Rules: Two-out-of-three falls. Count-outs and DQs apply as usual. Word Limit: 9000 Send To: Toxxic HELL IN THE SAL (Non-title) Va'aiga© vs Luke Breslin In Nottingham, on the street known as Maid Marian Way, there is a pub. This pub is known as Ye Olde Salutation Inn (aka The Sal). It claims to be the oldest in Nottingham (and it's a damn liar, because both Ye Olde Trip To Jerusalem and The Old Bell are older), and upstairs every Friday night it has Rock Karaoke where some of Nottingham's most drunken show-offs bellow out raucous renditions of classic rock tracks. What a perfect place for a barroom brawl! See that upper floor? That's where it takes place. The contestants will enter next to the DJ booth where DJ Dave will announce them. There is an open area with some tables before you get to the stage where the singers do their stuff at the other end (the left, as we look at the photo). To the right of the stage is a bar, usually manned by a guy with ENORMOUS hair who looks like he's wandered in out of a Motley Crue video. There's a passage down to the gents lavatory which is by a fire escape. If you go back past the DJ booth there's some stairs down to the main part of the pub below, with more drinkers. The object is to fight until someone gets pinned, or alternatively drinks so much they pass out. This match will take place (and will be filmed) on Friday 2nd January, then edited into the show. Because live satellite broadcast to the crowd in the arena is beyond budget for us these days. Rules: One pinfall to a win, don't hit on the barmaids Word Limit: 6000. That might be far too much. This match isn't that serious, just run with it. Send To: King Cucaracha. Will knows this venue like the back of his hand, and I'm pretty familiar with it. At least Landon won't have the bias of knowing what's where, which I would. Team Canada (Kevin Riggs & X-Punk) vs The Sensational Academy (Panic & Danny Meadows) DVS's Team Canada assure us that this time, they really are going to turn up and fight. To break them (back) in as a team in the SWF they get Toxxic's two students, as hapless and hopeless as ever. Rules: Standard tag. Use the tag rope. Word Limit: 4500 Send To: Toxxic MOUSETRAP MATCH Thoth vs Michael Alexander Uh-huh, you read that right. Back in the day (well, 2004), a match was booked between Landon 'La Cucaracha' Maddix and Annie Eclectic. That match was a Mousetrap Match, which Landon eventually won. And the person who booked that match? Well, rumour had it that it was none other than everyone's favourite former DDRing Tag Team Champion, King Of Fighters wardrobe-stealer and general all-round badass, Thoth. Now, that wasn't the last time that Thoth's legacy would cause Landon trouble - his crazy booking skillz were after all the justification for Joe Peters shoving arch-enemies Landon and Toxxic together as a tag team under the 'Crazy Tag Partners That Hate Each Other' school of logic, for which Landon's suggestion of team name was 'Turn Your Head And Thoth' - but tonight it looks like someone's out for revenge. It's probably just Michael Alexander's bad luck that he's been landed in this mess as well. Rules: In the middle of the ring is a circle with a large cage suspended above it. All around the ring are items of equipment that can be fitted, slotted, duct-taped or whatever together to make that famous mousetrap mechanism. The person who manages to lower the cage using the completed mechanism and trap their adversary under it (hint, you'll probably have to knock them out first, or some approximation thereof) wins the match. If the cage is lowered and the opponent avoids it, it will be reset by the ring crew while you knock each other around some more. The actual mechanism is up to you, and can bear as close or as distant a resemblance to the game as you like. Word Limit: Uh... 5000? Whatever you need, really Send To: Toxxic *SPECIAL BONUS EVENT* Ahh, ice hockey. Nottingham has a fairly decent team by UK standards, which means they're about equivalent to a Canadian fourth-grade highschool team. Right next door (and I mean RIGHT next door) to the TrentFM Arena is the Nottingham Ice Arena, where teenagers go to flirt on Saturdays with bits of metal attached to their feet. However, on this Tuesday evening it will be hosting a very special event organised by the Nottingham Panthers. Now, any self-respecting team of Americans or Canadians who know one end of an ice skate from the other should be able to whip this lot. Unfortunately, what we've got includes two Japanese, one Brit and a possible robot. THE NOTTINGHAM PANTHERS OPEN ICE RINK HARDCORE INVITATIONAL Five minutes of non-stop action involving twelve men, two nets and a puck. The winner is the team to score most goals. Anything approaching normal ice hockey rules has been suspended apart from that, although dropkicks are discouraged for obvious reasons. And now, the teams! THE PANTHERS Goal: Davis Parley Defence: Danny Meyers, Corey Neilson Wingers: Jade Galbraith, Robert Lachowicz Centre Forward: Dan Tessier THE SWF Goal: 'The Japanese Hammer' TORU Takahara Defence: The Galacticos (Landon 'La Cucaracha' Maddix and 'The Straight-Edge Sensation' Toxxic) Wingers: Ghost Machine IV, Dance Dance Dragon Centre Forward: JJ Johnson (hey, at least the Canadian might be able to skate) Rules: Most goals in five minutes wins, other than that: nada. Word Limit: Whatever we come up with. Writing: Tom, Landon, me... anyone else fancy joining in? Send To: Me, of course. ANYONE ELSE WHO WANTS A MATCH, LET ME KNOW. Also, I'm in the mood for some more non-too-serious matches, like the Hell In The Sal. Anyone who wants something a bit silly that won't really effect anyone's standing in the fed, let me know. Send all marked matches, promos etc to Toxxic

Joey Styles for Brawl For All!

I dunno, we're running out of time before christmas but I want to do the CFC Final before next year. Who wants to write something and if so, when can you write for?

I can't believe two people are seriously voting for a show on New Year's Eve. How about it Tod? Would you be able to get something done for then, or is that too close?

Well, the fact that one match ended with the Silent Scream and the other match ended with the Silent Scream countered into a pin, and you both had very similar chain-wrestling starts... you didn't make it easy, either of you.

Go read it, and comment. Plz.

Edited for pedantic accuracy.

Granted, but there's a difference between wanting rid of the thing because the pressure is getting to you and real indifference about whether you hold it or not, just being there to do the job. Eddie went against office wishes as well, just in the other direction, and with a more reasonable motive.

Yeah, I take it you didn't get the message booking you into a non-title match with Bruner for Night Two, V?

Take care man. All that can be said. Best wishes to you and yours.

You two have just reminded me that the only thing worse than a DNS is two matches which are as good as each other and impossible to tell apart. In the end I had to give it to Tod, but it was a damn close thing. What swung it was the fact that I thought Alexander sold himself as the face of the match somewhat. Although the injured ribs were a nod to previous matches, it led to too much of the 'face overcoming the injury and the odds' feel, which wasn't helped by the finish. If you'd sold Tod as selling some injuries or at least showing the effects of his matches as well, you might have got it as it would have been a more even playing field.

About five minutes after the last of the fans have left the area "Landon, this tournament was a great success," Toxxic says, leaning on a turnbuckle. The General Manager and the Commissioner are standing in the ring that neither one of them has competed in for nearly a year - more in Landon's case - and looking around at the 20,000 empty seats that until a little while ago were packed with screaming fans. "I'd have to agree," Maddix concurs, then looks over at the Englishman and frowns. "So what's on your mind?" "Well, we have our Cruiserweight Champion and one-half of the team who are meant to be next in line for a Tag Title shot competing at our next show to get a shot at the World Heavyweight Champion," Toxxic says. "I hate to say it, but we've kind of fucked ourselves over, booking-wise." "What can you do?" Landon asks rhetorically, spreading his hands. "We booked 'em into a tournment, and they're the ones who reached the final. Besides," he adds, brightening, "it's coming up to Christmas! I'm sure we can find ways to keep everyone amused!" Toxxic looks at him, then slowly covers his face with one black-nailed hand. "I have a bad feeling about this..."

THE COLD FRONT CLASSIC NIGHT TWO: WINTER IS COMING LIVE to DVD at 7pm EST on Sunday 7th December from the Times Union Center in New York! SEMI FINAL ONE Winner of Breslin/Stuart vs winner of Alexander/TORU[/b] SEMI FINAL TWO Winner of Dace/??? vs winner of Taiga/MANSON QUARTER FINAL FOUR Michael Alexander vs TORU Takahara QUARTER FINAL THREE Luke Breslin vs Tod James Stuart QUARTER FINAL TWO Taiga Star vs MANSON QUARTER FINAL ONE Dace Night vs ???

"The Cold Front Classic continues," begins Funyon. "With this semi-final contest, and the eventual winner going on to compete for an SWF World Heavyweight Championship title opportunity!" "This is it, King." says an excited Mak Francis. "We're now down to the n-..." "Do NOT say nitty-gritty." interrupts the Gambling Man. "Or one of your brakes will get mysteriously sabotaged once again." "The quarter-final round is over and done with, and then there were four! Coming up right now is Michael Alexander going up against Tod James Stuart for a spot in the finals. Both men have made impressive strides in the tournament so far, leading us to this gem of a match." The opening chime of Metallica's For Whom The Bells Tolls resounds for what is essentially the fifth time tonight. Ever resilient, and eager to see this tournament come to an end, the crowd happily erupts in boos upon hearing the rock classic. Just as the white and blue spotlights dance once again all over the arena, the guitar part soon kicks in and heralds the arrival of the Evil Genius. "First," continues the announcer. "hailing from Greenville, South Carolina. Weighing in at 219 lbs: Michael - Aaaaaaaaalexandeeeeerrrr!!" The light play soon begins to fade as the Mad Scientist Of The Mat casually walks through the curtain. On the way, he pauses to watch the latest addition to his Smarktron entrance video; that being TORU eating a dose of Aerosol Equalizer, followed by his ensuing defeat at the hands of the Event Horizon. He smirks at his accomplishment while doing a brief check of the wrists on his way to sliding underneath the bottom rope. After a quick stretch in the corner, Alexander leans on the ropes and peers over to the entrance ramp. He eases into a one-handed "Let's move this along" rolling motion, giving the sound crew their improvised cue to fade out his theme song. "Michael has been having an absolutely stellar week-end." declares Suicide King. "From his opening round match against the massive Tracey Bruner, to just a while ago when he beat the mighty TORU; this man in the ring has been nothing short of flawless. He's been on a quest to regain a World title he feels rightfully still belongs to him and he's been defeating men twice his size to prove his point." "This raises the question of stamina." retorts Mak Francis, while the opposing theme of Helter Skelter resounds throughout the arena. "Michael Alexander has been through two grueling matches against, like you said, two men who tower over him in the form of Tracey Bruner and TORU Takahara. Whereas the man who's about to come out, Tod James Stuart might have the advantage in that department seeing as he had to get through X-Punk and Luke Breslin, who admittedly don't quite share the same physical style of Bruner and TORU. Alexander had the bigger hill to climb, and this match just may be his undoing." "His opponent," continues Funyon. "From Toronto, Ontario, Canada. Weighing in at 235 lbs: Tooood - Jaaaames - Stuart!!" The fire still in his eyes, Tod James Stuart strolls out with a more regular pace, careful not to expend any unnecessary energy. In order to offset Alexander's similarly-colored ring wear, Stuart has opted to switch to the swanky white variant of his usual tights. At this stage, he no longer sees the crowd. While he greatly appreciates the respect and love they've showed for him, he's gotten to a point where there can be only him and his opponent. And now stands before him a former World champion who'd love nothing more than to end his aspirations and reclaim his own lost glory. Michael Alexander share a determined glance at one another, until Stuart wipes his boots clean and enters the ring by way of the ring steps. "You seem awfully quick to write off Alexander, there." notes King. "Or did you just get caught up in your little Canadian buddy's quest for respect? Sure, Mike has probably wrestled the equivalent of about a dozen Iron Man matches tonight. But the man is a cardio machine. He has one of the most energy-conserving styles I've ever witnessed. He waits for you to make a mistake, and then he ties you up like a fem-dom and has you tapping on the mat as if you were killing ants." "Two very similar styles about to collide here as Eddy Long is bringing both men to center ring." says Mak, just as Helter Skelter fades out. Just as Long throws the opening signal, both competitors stand face-to-face in center ring. Stuart is the first to move, as he once again extends the hand in a sign of respect. Alexander at first raises an eyebrow at the gesture, but soon morphs into a smirk and a light scoff. He backs away a few steps, ready to lock up. Stuart merely shrugs, and mirrors the maneuver. Following the obligatory sizing up, both men collide into an intense collar and elbow tie-up. They both fight back and forth for the initial advantage, but Stuart's larger frame proves to be useful as he soon gains the upper hand and manages to grab a quick headlock! Alexander quickly explores every possible way to contort out of the hold, but Stuart firmly remains in place by planting a knee to the mat. Alexander finally goes to his last solution of shoving Stuart off to the ropes, successfully breaking the headlock. Running the strands, Stuart ducks under an attempt at a clothesline, and then under a back elbow. On the third bounce, Alexander bends down for a back bodydrop. Stuart puts on the brakes... and taps his opponent on the shoulder. Alexander confusedly looks up to see what the fuss is all about... which allows Stuart to apply another headlock! He works the move into a rear hammerlock, but this is delving more into Alexander's expertise. The Carolinian cleverly shifts his weight aside and takes down Stuart with a drop toehold. He floats over into a front facelock, but Stuart is quick to twist out of it... and reverse into another headlock! Alexander expresses his frustration with a sharp pound of the mat with his fist. "Mikey's doing exactly what he does NOT need to do in the opening minutes of this match." observes King. "He's getting schooled at his own art, and he's letting it get to him. You mentionned similar styles, Stumpy. Which is true to a certain extent, but I see just enough of a difference to tell them apart. Tod Stuart goes back to an older generation of technical wrestlers. He'll work you over on that mat any chance he gets, but he incorporates a lot of striking offense and clubbing blows in there to wear you down. Whereas Alexander relies a little less on strikes, and more on wrestling in the purest sense of the word. He ties you up like a shoe, and he has you tapping out before you know what hit you." "You're repeating yourself again." observes Mak. "Just doing my job, Stumpy." rebuts King. "Rather than blatantly cheerleading for whoever I like best." Both men are back up, Stuart still in control. Alexander's last resort is to finally force both palms into Stuart's face and force their way into the ropes, prompting Long to call for the break. After a count of 3, Stuart finally complies, releasing his hold. Once they're free from one another, Alexander slowly begins to back away... only to lunge at the last second and connect with a slap to the face! While receiving the appropriate earful from Eddy Long, Alexander dashes out to ringside once he spots Stuart bulldozing him down with a monster glare. The Canadian follows suit as he steps forward with determination. He has one foot through the ropes... but then stops, much to the dismay of Alexander. Shaking his head, Stuart backtracks to center ring and simply offers the "Bring It On" gesture to his opponent. "The man wasn't born yesterday." says Mak. "Like you alluded to earlier, Alexander tried to take this outside where Stuart could make a mistake, allowing Mike to capitalize. However, it was NOT the case." Before Eddy Long gets upset and decides on a steadier count of 10, Alexander hastens his climb back inside. Rather than prep for a lock-up, Alexander extends a hand forward, prompting his opponent for a test of strength. Complying, Stuart's left hand joins with Alexander's right. Tentatively, the other two hands slowly lock fingers, and the struggle is on. Both forces seem to cancel each other out at the beginning. Stuart seems to use his slight weight advantage, but Alexander manages to hold his ground for the time being. Both competitors are at a stalemate, until Stuart livens up the crowd and surprises Alexander with a quick boot to the mid-section! He releases one hand to turn it into an arm-twist, punctuated by three stinging shin kicks to the torso. He then rests his foot on Alexander's shoulder, right up against his temple and drops down to the mat, connecting with the Slapshot! Stuart quickly dives on top and hooks the leg. "One!" "Two!" Taking as much of the full count as he can, Alexander has the shoulder up after a kick-out. Stuart methodically picks up his opponent from the mat, but Alexander suddenly breaks free and hammers Stuart's thigh and hip with a powerful roundhouse kick! Wincing at first, Stuart quickly replies with his own blow; a forearm shot to the side of the head! Alexander briefly recoils from this blow, but he then replies with another kick. Trading their own respective strikes, neither man seems to want to back up first until reality sets in and Alexander has to shake the cobwebs loose while Stuart takes a second to walk off his knotted up thigh muscle. Just as both wrestlers return their attention to each other, Alexander is the first to react as he throws a quick dropkick that connects with Stuart's left arm! Stuart tries to shrug it off and charge forward, but Alexander welcomes him with a drop toehold. He follows it up by floating over and applying a dreadful Fujiwara armbar to the same limb that was victim of the earlier dropkick. Before Alexander can fully cinch it in, Stuart rolls forward to free himself. From his position on his back and Alexander hovering over him, Stuart hopes for the best and throws his right leg up... and connects with a powerful kick to Alexander's head! Regaining his feet, Stuart contains Alexander with two or three forearms to the head, and soon has him running the ropes with an Irish whip. Upon the rebound, Stuart catches Alexander with a heavy fist to the gut that doubles him over! He shifts positions, moving to the side of his opponent, and floors him with a side Russian legsweep! Stuart lays on top of him with the lateral press. "One!" "Two!" "No!" declares Eddy Long. Stuart maintains the offense as he regains a full standing position, only to aim the point of the elbow, and drive it into Alexander's forehead! Continuing on, Stuart has Alexander up to his feet and into a front facelock. With a handful of tights, Alexander goes sailing into the air as Stuart drives him to the mat with a perfectly executed vertical suplex! Slowly getting into his groove, Stuart seamlessly rolls his hips and floats into another lateral press. "One!" "Two!" "Shoulder up!!" says Long, pointing at the outstretched limb. Stuart grabs the very same limb so it can serve as a useful grab point to get Alexander back up to his feet. Over to the ropes, Stuart peels him off with an Irish whip but Alexander has it reversed. With the Canadian running the ropes, Alexander bends over for a quick attempt at a back bodydrop. Stuart had anticipated this however, and his boot connecting with Alexander's face is the ideal counter-move. Stuart quickly throws himself into the adjacent ropes while Alexander is groggy enough, and catches him on the rebound with a swinging neckbreaker! He goes back to the lateral press, this time hooking the leg. "One!" "Two!" "Two, Stuart!" notes Eddy Long, at the sight of another kick-out. Noting that Alexander isn't in the proper position for his next intended move, Stuart picks up Alexander in a reverse gutwrench... and cracks him with a backbreaker! He's now in perfect position, which allows Stuart to scale the nearest turnbuckle to the second rope. He aims the elbow once again, ready to drive his arm into Alexander's head from a higher angle. He leaps off... and finds nothing but mat! Stuart cradles his arm in agony while Alexander is back to his feet. He meets the Canadian with a toe kick to the stomach, followed by his own run to the ropes. Bouncing back, Alexander blasts Stuart in the face with his trademark knee lift! The force of which is enough to send Stuart to the mat, allowing Alexander to twist a pair of uncomfortable cracks out of his neck. He takes a second to flick a glob of imaginary sweat to his opponent, and offer the crowd the left-overs. Cranking up his right foot with a bit of theatrics, Alexander sends a mighty stomp to the right side of the head! And then the left! And then the forehead! "Michael Alexander couldn't seem to make up his mind earlier as to what body part he should focus his attacks on." says Mak Francis. "But now he seems to have a target in his sights: the head of Tod Stuart." "This is actually one of the few things Tod James Stuart does right, believe it or not." adds Suicide King. "With all of his head-related offense, the Brain Go Splat and the Silent Scream are the ideal icing on the cake. When you're taking on the enemy camp, what better way to incapacitate its defenses than by taking out the command center." Alexander decides to further add to the damage by putting on a neck vise, twisted Stuart's head in the most uncomfortable of positions. Eddy Long is quick to make with the interrogation on the Canadian, but the man remains ever resilient. "You're just full of these cute analogies tonight, are you?" asks Mak Francis to his partner. "I'm just trying to paint as clear a picture as possible!" returns Suicide King. "I don't think you or the humanoids at home or the minimum wagers in the crowd even REALIZE the magnitude of this match! I'll give the devil his due. Being the professional that I am, I do tell them like I see them. Tod Stuart's rise up the ranks these past few months and here tonight have indeed been impressive. But here's the bombshell that everybody is denying to see: You ready for this? Tod Stuart does not live up to his full potential in big match situations!" During King's diatribe, Stuart has successfully managed to fight his way back up to his feet and is now burying a few elbows into his opponent's gut. With Alexander sufficiently dazed, Stuart tosses himself into the neares ropes once again; but we never get to find out his intentions. Alexander leaps off his feet and nails Stuart in the head with a Flying Forearm Smash! The Canadian hits the mat hard, allowing Alexander to regain control by re-applying the neck vise. "Tod James Stuart doesn't live up to his full potential in big match situations." repeats Mak. "And how did you jump to this wonderful conclusion, Larry King?!" "At least I'm physically capable of jumping." retorts King, unable to pass up the proverbial curve ball. "This has simply been a recurring theme throughout his career! This is a man who just last summer couldn't even get a victory over the freakin' Norsemen to save his life! Let's go back to Genesis. Number one contendership for the tag team titles. Guess who was on the losing end of THAT decision. Go back even further, back to when I.L. was World champ. Stuart comes within a hair of defeating, but then that familiar phrase popped up: It Just Wasn't Enough. Let's even go back a few years, all the way back to 2003! Back when he was known as Tod deKindes, he was on the roll of a lifetime! Defeating name talent left and right. He even managed to win the opportunity to choose his number in the Clusterfuck match. He had a comfy number 19 at his disposal. The odds were in his FAVOR... and then he pissed it all away by getting himself eliminated a mere five minutes after he came in. And then we wound up not seeing his face for three years. While I do respect his ability in the ring, I think you can understand why I'm prone to make such one-sided remarks, as your accusatory tone of voice would lead me to believe." "He'll be the first to say it, the man isn't perfect." adds Mak. "And that's why he's been all about the present and the future these past few months. Y'know, moving on! And that's what great about our SWF fans, they pretty much appear to have forgiven Stuart and are now ready to support him! If the support they've been giving him tonight is any indication; then we're smack in the middle of Tod James Stuart's redemption, and THAT will not end until he gets to hold up some much coveted championship gold!" Stuart seems to have fought his way out of the neck vise once again and back up to his feet, but Alexander prevents the second resurgence as he rapidly transitions the hold into a fireman's carry, lifting the Canadian onto his shoulders. He adds a few spins to further daze Stuart, culminating in a massive flapjack that drives Stuart's face into the mat, the sequence known as The Crucible! Alexander falls on top of his opponent, and hooks the leg. "One!" "Two!" "Thr--!" "Shoulder up!!" yells out Eddy Long. "Bullshit!!" protests the Mad Scientist. "Positive!" justifies Long, pointing at Stuart's shaking fist. Wasting no further time arguing with the official, Alexander wraps Stuart's left arm behind his back in a hammerlock and cinches in an inverted facelock, successfully applying the Dragon Hammer! Eddy Long is quickly at his post, checking to see if Stuart will submit. All he gets are yet more groans and grunts of denial. "This is very effective strategy on the part of Michael Alexander." says King. "Take out Stuart's arm, and you take out both the Silent Scream AND the Brain Go Splat, two dangerous moves in their own right. Then you take out the head, and you take out Stuart's ability to focus and think clearly. Like any great wrestler, that is the first step towards convincingly defeating your opponent. I'm just full of these bits of insight, Makaroni!" "You're full of something, all right--" retorts Mak. "Watch it." "--...but if this keeps up, I don't think Stuart will last much longer agains the former World champion. Because as it stands right now, Michael Alexander is in complete control of this match!" "Ask him!!" demands the former World champ to the official. With the Canadian slumped down to both knees, Alexander has been furiously wrenching in the Dragon Hammer. Noticing that he's not receiving much of an answer anymore, Eddy Long grabs Stuart's free and limp right arm and raises it up to the skies, ready for the tried and true consciousness test. He releases the hand... and it shakes back to life! As the crowd fires up, Tod Stuart finds himself surprisingly fighting his way up to his feet despite being in a potent submission hold. Using his free right arm, he does his best to free himself by throwing improvised forearm shivers in the direction of Alexander's face. They seem to do the job, but Alexander relentlessly holds onto his move. Doing his best to power through his restrained breathing, Stuart slowly advances towards the nearest corner... and boosts one leg off the second turnbuckle so he can blast Alexander on the forehead with a knee! This proves more effective as Alexander's grip is somewhat loosened. A second boost-up knee furthers Stuart's cause, causing a full-on loosening of the hold. Stuart finally boosts up the second rope one more time, performing a full backflip that lands behind his opponent. Stuart celebrates his newfound freedom by wrapping his arms around Alexander's waist and sending him flying overhead with a high angle release German suplex! Neither men are moving from the impact, prompting the official to fire up his 10-count. "Mike Alexander's been consistent throughout this entire match." notes Mak. "But you can't count Tod Stuart out just yet. And he looks to be steering the offense back his way!" With the count reaching seven, both men have staggered up to their feet. Alexander advances, but Stuart counters him with a heavy elbow strike to the temple! Followed by a second! A third! Alexander advances a fourth time, but he's welcomed into an inverted atomic drop! Stuart backs up a few steps into the ropes, and floors Alexander with a running clothesline! With a quick rallying fist pump, Stuart ascends once again to the nearest second turnbuckle and finally lands that elusive forearm drop he was looking to deliver earlier. He applies the lateral press once again. "One!" "Two!" "Thr--" "No!!" remarks Long. "Close, though!" Ever wishing to emulate his wrestling idol from Calgary, Alberta, Canada; Stuart shoves his opponent into a corner and grabs onto a headlock, intent on delivering a running bulldog. But just as Stuart takes off, he finds himself forcefully shoved into the opposite corner, colliding chest first into the turnbuckles. Alexander immediately leaps off his feet, and connects with a heavy clothesline to the back of Stuart's head! Stuart falls to the mat while Alexander takes a second to collect his thoughts. He gets back up, only to spot the squirming Canadian mass at his feet. An evil smirk crosses his lips... as he proceeds to do Tod Stuart's very own Arms Out taunt. "I don't believe this." says Mak with a hint of shock. "If this gesture is meant to be taken seriously, Michael Alexander is going to attempt to finish off Tod James Stuart with his very own finishing hold!" "What better way to send the Canadian on yet another much deserved three-year sabbatical!" adds King with glee. "And what better way to prove me right! Toddie's had some nice accomplishments in this company. But, appropriately enough, he's about to be remembered for one thing only: choking! Daniel Smith will be LOST without his buddy and mentor; and I for one will NOT miss Tod once he decides to take his ball and go home for a second time!" With Alexander carefully adjusting his position as to remain behind Stuart, the Canadian is none the wiser as his opponent creeps up behind him. But as soon as he feels an arm come into contact with him, Stuart craftily spins out of the hold and into an inverted Fireman's carry, ready for the Brain Go Splat! The crowd suddenly explodes at this sight, but quickly recover when Alexander counters out of the move with a nifty forward roll that breaks Stuart's grip. Alexander has a one second headstart in regaining his footing, which allows him to leave his feet and BLAST Stuart on the side of the head with his heel kick Enziguiri! Stuart collapses to the canvas like a sack of bricks, which can't bode well for the Canadian. A confident grin morphs onto the Mad Scientist's face as he calmly motions That's It with his arms. With two handfuls of hair (and ignoring Eddy Long's warnings), Alexander has the prone Stuart in his hands. Throwing Stuart's arm over his neck and locking him in a side waistlock, the former World heavyweight champion is more confident than ever. "He's got Stuart in the belly-to-back! We could witness an Event Horizon all the way to the finals!" exclaims Mak Francis. With the seemingly-helpless carcass of his opponent in his arms, Alexander can't help but let out one final taunting cry to the booing crowd. "Better! Than! YOU!!" yells the grappler, accentuated with pointing gestures at himself and the crowd. Alexander locks Stuart's limbs in position and lifts up Stuart for what will be the fatal blow... He spins... But Stuart counters the move with a hurricanrana takedown! As the crowd erupts, both men quickly stagger to their feet. His eyes filled with renewed vigor, Alexander locks Stuart in his sights and charges forward. But Stuart sidesteps him at the last second, nearly causing a collision with Eddy Long in the corner! Alexander puts on the brakes just in time while Long sees his striped career flash before him. This is the split-second Stuart needs to apply and lock in the Silent Scream! The crowd suddenly erupts in wild cheers at the sight of this. "He's got it in finally!" exclaims Mak. "One of the most effective submission chokes in this company is being applied to the former World Champion, by its rightful user to boot! But this is just the first part! If he can drop down and wrap his legs around Alexander, we could be looking at one of our finalists very shortly!" "We saw Luke Breslin successfully fight off this very same hold earlier tonight!" adds King. "Mikey needs to go back to the well and find a way to counter out of it or else his World title re-domination is about to go up in smoke." "He's got it in!!" The crowd crescendoes to a fever pitch as Stuart finally succeeds in completing the hold with the body scissors! Eddy Long dives in and checks with Alexander to see if he wishes to submit, but all he gets are rasps and gargles of denial. "This crowd is electrified!!" notes Mak. "Both men are in the middle of the ring, and there is nowhere for Alexander to go!! He's gotta be fading fast!" "Come on, Mike!" says King, ever the cheerleader. "If some Canadian who loves a shitty hockey team can get this far ahead in this tournament, anything is possible!" "Michael's turning blue, King!! Eddy Long's not getting an answer!" ... "C'mon Mike, talk to me!!" orders Eddy Long. "Gimme an answer or I call it!! ... One last time, Mike: do - you - give up?!" Under the guise of one final check, Long lifts up Alexander's free arm and releases... and it lifelessly drops back to the mat. "He's not moving! Ring the bell!!" Funyon excitedly chimes the bell as this crowd absolutely erupts. Eddy Long wastes no time separating the wrestlers while the announcer makes it official. "The winner of this contest, who now moves on to the finals... Toooooood - Jaaaaaames - Stuaaaaart!!" On his back and catching his breath, Tod James Stuart begins to see the proverbial light at the end of the oft-quoted tunnel. A smile of relief appears on his exhausted face as his victorious theme song begins blaring throughout the arena. Eddy Long seals the deal as he comes over to raise his hand in triumph. Mustering up what's left of his reserve strength, Stuart scrambles to his feet so he can finally acknowledge the cheering masses with a raise of the fist and a mighty rallying roar. "Tod James Stuart has managed to tame the high-flying X-Punk." begins Mak Francis. "He's handed Luke Breslin his first-ever singles loss. And now he's convincingly defeated a former World Heavyweight champion. One more challenge awaits him in the finals of this tournament, where the winner earns, and I stress the word EARNS, a shot at the massive Va'aiga at the SWF World Heavyweight championship belt that's currently in his possession." "This tournament's been nothing short of exceptional." adds Suicide King. "We've seen some career-defining moments over the week-end. And I'll say this: it would NOT surprise me, if whoever wins this whole tournament takes Va'aiga to the absolute limit. We've seen men test their own limits tonight; it paid off for some, and others got to see what they're made of and saw they weren't quite there yet" "Tonight, it's not the case for Tod James Stuart. By virtue of this victory, he now goes ON to the finals, and possibly a shot at the World title." Just as Michael Alexander begins to regain his bearings, Stuart has undertaken the long walk back up the entrance ramp. Ready to begin the first day of the rest of his life, Stuart steps forward to an even more uncertain future. Ready to take his next step into SWF immortality...

"Listen to the crowd, King! They've been fired up all night!" Mak exclaims, stating the obvious about the packed house at the Times Union Center. "The next match pits Taiga Star against Thoth. Ms Star has had an impressive rookie year here in the SWF..." "I can't believe Taiga has made it this far, and I hope Thoth puts her in her place tonight." King quips. "...and Thoth is ascending the ranks again after a lengthy hiatus. This is going to be an interesting matchup." Funyon stands in the middle of the ring, impeccable as usual, holding a microphone and readies himself. "Ladies and Gentlemen, the following contest is a semi-final match in the SWF Cold Front Classic tournament!!" The crowd is hot and cheers loudly, and Funyon waits for it to quiet down. "The referee for this contest is Anthony Michael Hall, and the Cruiserweight Championship is not on the line." Referee Hall stretches against the ropes, preparing for the potentially hard-hitting match. "Introducing first, weighing in at two hundred and fifty one pounds and hailing from Kobe, Japan, being accompanied by Nathaniel Kibagami, THOTH!!" The Touch plays to no fanfare as Thoth and Nathaniel make their way out of the back. No lights, no pyro, just the music and themselves. The crowd rains jeers and insults upon them. Thoth goes to punch a particularly vocal man in the front row and pulls back inches from his face. The balding fat fanguy practically shits his pants and Thoth laughs at him. Nathaniel laughs along with him, oblivious to what had happened. Thoth climbs the ring steps and ducks into the ring between the top and middle ropes. Nathaniel follows, stumbling onto the steps. He manages to grab the turnbuckle to save himself from falling. Thoth tells him to just stay out on the floor. Turning his attention to the Funyon, Thoth backs him into a corner, and the the announcer no-sells it. Thoth instead snaps at snaps the referee, and Hall reminds him that he has the power to throw out the match. With Thoth occupied with the referee, Funyon continues his duties. "And his opponent, being accompanied to the ring by El Gordo Gigante, she is the SWF Cruiserweight Champion. Weighing in at one hundred and 'none of your damn business' pounds and hailing from Helltown, Haverhill, Massachusetts... TAIGAAA STAAAR!" The arena rumbles with the first few riffs of Be a Man and the lights flash randomly and strobe-like. The song picks up pace and ultraviolet lasers stream from the entrance-way. Taiga Star walks out, looking not too worse for the wear after her match earlier that evening. Her usual camouflage cutoffs are replaced with dark green khakis, cut in the same style. Next to her stands the imposing figure of El Gordo Gigante, the six foot five, four hundred pound Mexican in a dark green satin lucha mask. Taiga makes her way down to the ring as El Gordo waddles behind her. She is almost jovial, bouncing about and slapping hands with the enthusiastic fans. El Gordo stops a moment to catch his breath and tells Taiga to go on without him. Taiga didn't hear him, as she skipped ahead of him several paces ago. The Cruiserweight title is tossed over the top rope as Taiga slides in under the bottom rope. She pops up with the belt, and before holding it up, she glares at Thoth. He starts at her but the referee comes between them. The crowd pops as Taiga holds the title high overhead. She passes the title to Funyon, who brings it back to the timekeeper's table with him as he exits the ring. The referee backs the wrestlers into their respective corners and searches them both for international objects. Satisfied the contenders are free of weaponry, he calls for the bell. DING! The wrestlers circle each other in the middle of the ring, not sure where to start. Taiga takes the opening move, a rear waistlock and an attempt to take him down to the mat. Thoth stands tall though, using the height advantage he has to avoid the move. He elbows her hands until she lets go. He spins around with a backfist, which Taiga ducks (though she doesn't have to duck far). She is back behind him with another waistlock. This time Thoth uses his elbows against the sides of her head to make her let go. He hooks his arm around her neck and attempts a neckbreaker, though Taiga manages to throw him off, where he lands on his ass on the mat. Taiga dragon kicks him in the back, making him wince. This pisses him off more than hurts him, and he is quickly back up, getting in her face. Taiga doesn't back away, staring right back at him. He reaches out and SLAPS~!! her across hard. "OOOOOOOOOOH!!" gasps the crowd. "Thoth may not know what he is getting into, slapping Taiga Star like that. She's not one to back down from a threat like that." states Mak. King turns to him. "She should though. Women should learn their place without being smacked." "Well, Taiga is trying to prove that a woman's place is anywhere she wants to be, including a wrestling ring." "Mak, the only women that should be in a wrestling ring, ought to be wearing bikinis and cat-fighting. Preferably in jello." King pauses for a moment before realizing something. "No, that does not mean I want to see Taiga Star naked." He visibly shivers at the thought. Taiga just smiles, which throws Thoth just a little. He goes to slap her again but Taiga grabs his arm mid-air, pulling his arm and twisting the wrist. Thoth contemplates the situation before deciding the best way to get out of it would be by just clocking her with his free hand. Which he does. Taiga shakes it off almost instantly however, and rears back to short arm clothesline him. Thoth backs out of the way and she misses. Then he grabs her by the waist and slams her to the mat with a snap suplex. He floats over into a casual cover... ONE! TW.... Taiga kicks out. Thoth pulls her up by the hair and whips her into the corner. He runs in after her but Taiga ducks and rolls out of the way. Thoth eats the turnbuckle. He turns around right into Taiga shoulder tackling him, wedging him in between the middle and top turnbuckles. When he regains his footing, he is met with a stiff chop to the chest WOOOOOOOO! Thoth shouts at her before grabbing her hair and shoving her into the corner. He lays in a stiff chop of his own WOOOOOOO! Taiga shouts, then grabs Thoth by the hair and shoves him into the corner, where she chops him again WOOOOOO! Thoth shouts and shoves her. Taiga flies back and rolls to her feet, where she is met with a flying forearm!! She lands hard and Thoth goes for the cover... ONE! TWO!! Taiga gets a shoulder up. Thoth pins her again... ...But the ref doesn't count, because Thoth's choice of pin involves his hand around her throat. He yells at Referee Hall to make the count. The ref is making a count alright, a count to five. Taiga's hands work at trying to pull Thoth's hand from her but she is not at all successful. The referee assists her but also has not much luck. Her neck is only released when Thoth decides to let go himself. Thoth stands up tall and proud, oblivious to the crowd's booing. Nathaniel cheers him though in approval. Taiga kicks her legs and rubs her neck, gasping for air. The ref checks on her asks if she is okay. He doesn't get an answer though before Thoth shoves him aside. He picks Taiga up and shoves her into the corner. There he pummels her with elbow strikes until her head is spinning on her shoulders. He mocks her, rolling his own head around and whining in pseudo-pain. Taiga slides down a little. Nuh-uh says Thoth as he picks her up again. He whips her out of the corner with a snapmare. She lands hard on her ass. Thoth's knee and Taiga's head are also hard, which when connected makes bone-on-bone thud! Thoth lays over her with a cover that looks more like he is teabagging her... ONE! TWO!! Taiga kicks out, wiping her nose, acting as if she just got a sniff of something fowl that she would not have wanted to smell voluntarily. Nathaniel laughs at this on the outside, and doesn't stop until Thoth reprimands him for it, reminding that they were supposed to be jerks. Nathaniel remembers and switches to a stoic expression, full of ~srs bsniss~. Thoth turns into a boot. No, I don't mean transforming into footware, I mean he turns into the sole of Taiga's big black monster boots, as she runs at him with a kick that just about wipes his face off. King is shocked. "I didn't think someone that short could get her leg up that high!!" Taiga lays over him for the pin, in the same insulting manner as she was pinned seconds ago, her crotch hovering mere centemetres over his face... ONE! TWO!! Thoth kicks out, throwing Taiga aside in the process. He springs to his feet in horror, wiping his face and stomping his feet, overreacting to the act. He gags and covers his face like he is about to puke. He leans over the top rope and coughs. He works up his spit and a big glob of it lands on the mat outside on the floor. "EEEEEWWWWW!" the crowd sitting there appear to be sick. "I don't blame the crowd for that. If I had Taiga's crotch in my face, I'd be grossed out as well." Mak looks at him. "Are you saying you'd rather have Thoth's crotch in your face?" "No, that's NOT what I'm saying." King says bluntly. Nathaniel asks if he is okay, and offers up a swig of something (presumably alcoholic) produced from a shiny chrome hip flask. Thoth declines, Nathaniel shrugs and drinks it himself. Across the ring, Taiga squats down, prepared to spear Thoth out of his boots. He turns around and sees her coming. This allows him to sidestep the maneuver. Taiga misses. Horribly misses. By a lot. She misses to the point where she sends herself flying out of the ring, through the ropes. She lands on the unsuspecting Nathaniel, bullet tope style. The chrome flask goes flying as they both hit the floor hard. Thoth yells at his charge to throw Taiga back into the ring, but he seems more interested in saving his alcohol. He is not the only one interested in it however, as El Gordo smells the booze, licks his lips, and goes to retrieve the flask. Thoth sighs and exits the ring to deal with Taiga himself. He picks her up off the floor and rams her into the ring's edge, cracking her back against the hardened steel. Taiga cries out in obvious pain. Thoth turns her around and does the same move, this time ramming her into the barricade. The crowd sitting there gets up and cheers for the display of violence, and at the same time jeers Thoth because he's the heel and that's what they are supposed to do. El Gordo and Nathaniel's eyes meet, both of them the same distance from the prized flask. At the same time they both dive for the object, knocking their heads together in the process. Both are laid out now. Thoth looks down at them and shakes his head. Taiga is next to him, on her knees, back arched, recoiling from the attacks received to it. He picks her up and rolls her back into the ring. Following her in, he shoves her with his foot, rolling her over until she is in the middle of the ring. He places a foot on her chest for one of the most arrogant pins ever... ONE! TW... Taiga kicks out, and at the same time, she grabs Thoth's ankle and pulls him down. She is quickly on him, mounting him and laying in a fury of lefts and rights. The ref yells at her to use open hands. She thinks for a moment, then says "NO!" and goes back to pummeling Thoth about the head with fists. She doesn't stop until Referee Hall physically removes her from him. On the floor, El Gordo and Nathaniel begin to stir. Nathaniel apologizes in Japanese as El Gordo does the same in Spanish. He offers the masked one a nip or two of his drink, which he accepts, finishing off half of it in a few gulps. He hands back a nearly empty flask and Nathaniel is visibly upset. A chase ensues, albeit a slow one, with El Gordo waddling and Nathaniel stumbling. Taiga yells at El Gordo for running away and instructs him to knock him over. El Gordo does as he is told. Nathaniel rolls around and stumbles back to his feet. He looks down at his flask and holds it over his open mouth, letting the precious last drops trickle over his tongue. Back in the ring, Taiga is setting Thoth up for a leg submission. Thoth is wiggling and moving and is being quite hard to hold on to. He gets his way to the ropes and grabs the bottom one, screaming at the ref to getheroffmegetheroffmegetheroffme! Taiga obliges, releasing his legs and backing away with her arms raised. Thoth slides out of the ring, and when Taiga runs to kick him, he grabs her legs and trips her up. He is back in the ring quick, stomping her and yelling. He drags her into the middle of the ring and lands a knee drop. He stands tall, proud of himself, before dropping another knee. Mak is sarcastic. "Oh, isn't Thoth a technical wonder?" King however, is not sarcastic. "Why actually, he IS. A great wrestler knows not to waste his energy on ridiculous flipping moves." "Yeah, such a master." Mak replies. "I could do a better kneedrop." King just looks sideways at his broadcast partner. While he is strutting, Taiga tries to grab his leg again. Thoth shakes her off and stomps her hand. She pulls it back quickly and shakes it off. Thoth grabs the same hand and muscles it back to the mat, where he stomps on it again. Taiga screams in pain, cradling her hand, turning over and hiding said hand under her. Thoth is again acting proud of his work, as if he enjoys the crowd's negative reaction. Taiga gets to her knees, still cradling her hand. Thoth stands behind her and makes a slightly obscene gesture while looking at her ass. He bends down and grasps her by the waist to pick her up, but he stops short and feigns backstrain, making the obvious fat joke. He goes to pick her up again, struggles comically to pick her up, before grabbing his back again. "I don't think I can get her up!" he shouts. The crowd boos at him. "She IS a big woman." King points out. "Come on, King, she weighs less than he does!" Taiga gets to her feet and sees Thoth hobbling around, grabbing his back. She appears to be confused for a second. That's all it takes for Thoth to catch her off-guard with a dropkick! Taiga flies across the ring and lands on the ropes. She rebounds back into Thoth's waiting arms. He throws her with a released suplex! He makes another lackadaisical cover... ONE! TWO!! Taiga gets the shoulder up. "You know, it would be more effective if he hooked the legs or something..." "Mak, Thoth knows what he's doing. He's gotten this far in the tournament. Perhaps you shouldn't question his technique." He pulls Taiga up by the hair and stands her up. He slaps her face insultingly. Then he picks her up and carries her to the corner, ramming her back into the turnbuckles. He lays in several elbows, like before, then follows up with a few chops to her chest WOOOOO! Then he turns around and makes a gesture that comments on the size of her breasts and the cushioning they provide from said chops. So he chops her again, even harder WOOOOOOO! Taiga grabs her chest in pain. Thoth removes her hand to chop her again WOOOO! Red welts develop on her chest. Thoth backs up and rams his shoulder into her midsection. Taiga begins to slip down, but Thoth prevents this by hooking her arms around the top rope. He backs up and rams her again. Thoth grabs her arm and whips her out of that corner, running her into the opposite corner. He runs in with another shoulder to her midsection, and follows that up with several kicks to the chest. this time he allows Taiga to collapse in the corner. He mocks her, asking if it hurts. he backs away and runs to her, dropkicking her in the head with both feet. He drags her into the middle of the ring and pins her, actually hooking the leg this time! ONE! TWO!! THR.... Taiga kicks out! Thoth is displeased with this decision, and lets the ref know it. Anthony Michael Hall explains to him that she got her shoulder up by three. Thoth asks if the ref even had credentials, being an actor and all. Hall explains that he's trained as a referee for damn near a decade, and his day job does not effect his in-ring work. Taiga crawls to the ropes while this is going on. Thoth stops arguing with the ref to stop her. "Where are you going lady?" he asks her. Taiga says something, but Thoth doesn't hear it. He asks her to repeat herself. "Fuck you." "OOOOOOOOH!" says the crowd. "Fuck me? I don't think so!" Then Thoth begins to kick her. Nothing special, nothing fancy, just repeated kicks while she is down. Kicks to her back. Kicks to her arms. Kicks to her legs. Kicks to her head. He almost kicks her out of the ring, but being a gentleman (sic), he pulls her back into the safety of the ring. He gets her face up and sits on her chest. Taiga reaches up to slap him but her hand is caught. Her other hand is also grabbed (the one that was previously stomped upon) and he holds her hands on the mat, pinning her. ONE! TWO!! Taiga gets the shoulder up. Thoth releases her hands and focuses on just holding her shoulders down... ONE! TWO!! Taiga manages to arch up out of it. Thoth just stays seated atop his opponent, swatting at her face and shouting insults at her. She reaches up to poke him in the eye but cannot reach. She slaps his chest but he doesn't budge. She wiggles and squirms, trying to get out from under him. But she can't. She does, however, get close enough to the ropes for a rope break. The referee makes the count and Thoth doesn't get up until he threatens to disqualify him. He obliges, standing up and backing away from her. Thoth calls the ref's attention to El Gordo, who was just standing in place and not doing anything. Thoth tells the ref that he was trying to throw the match. This was the cue for Nathaniel to be choking out Taiga, but he isn't in his place. Instead, he is laying his head on the ring apron, seemingly asleep. Thoth sees this and yells at him. Nathaniel bolts upright and agrees with whatever Thoth just said, without hearing what it was. Thoth takes matters into his own hands, and while the ref is questioning El Gordo in broken Spanish, Thoth is unwinding his wrist tape. He kneels down next to Taiga and begins choking her out! Her legs are kicking and her voice is straining. El Gordo is trying to tell the ref what is going on but the ref pays more attention to making sure he is in his place. Satisfied that El Gordo poses no immediate threat, the ref turns around to see Thoth laying over Taiga. He counts the fall... ONE! TWO!! TH... Taiga gets a foot on the rope! Thoth is furious and takes her leg off the rope. The ref counts again... ONE! TWO!! Taiga gets her other foot on the ropes! Thoth lets her go and yells at the ref again. Slowly Taiga is getting to her feet. Thoth sees this and stomps her hand again, then turns his attention back to the referee. Taiga holds her hand gingerly but makes it to her feet anyway. She taps on Thoth's shoulder. He turns around and Taiga swings at him, nailing an elbow! Several elbows actually, backing him into the ropes. Thoth grabs her and whips her across the ring. Nathaniel reaches into the ring to trip her up, but he misses (perhaps he was seeing double). Taiga doesn't miss a beat and ducks Thoth's flying forearm. He hits the ropes, and wouldn't you know it, Nathaniel manages to grab the heels this time! Unfortunately, they were the heels of the wrong person. Thoth flies forward and just barely misses smashing his face into the mat. Nathaniel laughs at him, until he realizes what he has done. He backs away as Thoth gets up to scream, point, and cuss at him. As Thoth is yelling, Taiga sneaks up behind him and rolls him into a sneaky pin! ONE! TWO!! THR... Thoth kicks out just in time! "And just like that, Taiga could have won this match." "But she didn't, thank goodness." King says. Taiga allows her opponent to get to his knees before she grabs his head and kicks him several times in the face. Thoth gets to his feet, stumbling. Taiga grabs him by the neck and jumps, landing a chindrop style headbutt! Thoth flies back and lands on the mat. He gets to his knees. Taiga drops to her knees and headbutts him, Junkyard Dog style!! Some in the crowd bark in appreciation. Taiga is on her feet, screaming at Thoth to get up. "Come on fucker!!" She stalks him as he uses the ropes in the corner to get himself standing. She prepares to spear him once he gets to his feet. He does, and Taiga begins charging. Thoth however drops to the mat and is pulled out of the ring by Nathaniel, in a moment of clarity. Taiga stops short, avoiding making contact with the corner. She yells at El Gordo, telling him that he is supposed to stop that sort of interference. El Gordo nods in agreement and waddles his way over to Nathaniel. Nathaniel, oblivious as ever, doesn't notice the very large Mexican waddling for him at full speed. Thoth yells at Nathaniel, attempting to warn him of the incoming danger. Nathaniel waves back at him, smiling and commenting on how well the match is going. This is exchanged in Japanese, by the way. Anyway, Thoth is shouting and waving about and Nathaniel is laughing and waving back and El Gordo is waddling as fast as he can. Until he slips, that is. Slips on the wad of spit that Thoth expectorated earlier in the match. El Gordo falls, almost in slow motion, taking Nathaniel along with him. The drunk barely notices until it's too late. He soon discovers that he cannot move with the massive mass of Mexican on top of him. Now it's Taiga's turn to laugh, and she does, pointing at her and Thoth's charges, laughing herself to tears. "Now... that's one way of making sure that Nathaniel can no longer interfere in the match!" Mak laughs. Thoth's reaction is quite different though, and he takes his anger and frustration out on his laughing opponent. He picks her up by the neck and slams her down. then he lands several elbow drops, each more effective than the previous. He gets down and chokes her with his hand again. The ref counts and Thoth actually lets go. He pulls out some more wrist tape as the ref is checking on his opponent. Thoth shoves the ref out of the way and wraps the tape around her throat, picking her up with it, Taiga choking the whole time. The referee yells at him, concerned for Taiga's well being. Thoth lets go, and she drops to the mat again, gasping and holding her hand out. Thoth stomps on her hand again, making some on the crowd wince. He reaches down and chokes her with the tape again, dragging her to standing in the process. The ref counts and threatens to disqualify him again. Thoth releases again, letting Taiga drop lifelessly to the mat. But once again, he repeats this move, choking her with the tape as he pulls her to standing. Mak seems worried. "Thoth could go on like this all night, but as long as he releases in time, he won't get disqualified." "It's a smart move, something you wouldn't know too much about." "I do know one thing, and that is Taiga is struggling here. Look at the red mark around her neck!" Her neck is indeed red, an angry welt encircling her neck. She is once again on the mat, struggling for breath. At this point, her need for air outweighs the pain in her hand. One last time she is picked up by the wrist tape. It's the last time because Referee Hall takes hold of it and unwinds the rest of it off Thoth's wrist, then throws the tangled mass of lint and sweat encrusted tape out of the ring. Around this time El Gordo comes to and slowly rolls off Nathaniel on the outside. He is apologetic as Nathaniel gasps for breath, much like Taiga is. Thoth is not very happy with the decision of the ref to toss his tape out (surprised?) and yells at the ref while stepping on Taiga's throat. The ref yells back. Thoth steps off his opponent and backs the referee into a corner. While he discusses the rules of wrestling with Thoth, Taiga struggles to get up. The crowd starts chanting and clapping for her, giving her the energy she needs to get up. And get up she does, gritting her teeth and growling like an animal. Turning his attention away from the ref, Thoth turns around and sees Taiga up and angry. They meet in the middle of the ring where Taiga chops him with a Kobashi neck chop. Thoth returns the blow with a forearm. Taiga slaps him back and asks to be hit harder. He obliges, just to be smacked again. "Hit me harder bitch!" She is almost sent over with an outright slap to the face. Taiga regains her footing, screams loudly, and lays in a flurry of chops and a few headbutts for good measure. She grabs his arm to whip him into the ropes, but he puts on the brakes. He kicks her in the midsection and picks her up. "I smell the Riot of the Blood!!" King shouts, eagerly anticipating Thoth's finisher. He prepares her for his cradle piledriver, lifting her up and attempting to hook the leg. But Taiga kicks and manages to get her feet back on the ground. he lifts her again, but it ends the same: Taiga's feet on the mat. She uses this position to lift Thoth up overhead and deposit him on the mat behind her. Without skipping a beat, she screams again and jumps, landing both feet on his chest with a double stomp!! Taiga has no time to recover from the beating she has sustained, only a brief second to catch her breath somewhat. He pulls Thoth by his shaggy black hair and goes for a piledriver of her own, Jerry Lawler style, sitting out with it. She barely gets his legs up but the move is effective nonetheless. She points to the corner and the crowd cheers. She climbs to the top turnbuckle and carefully stands, looking quite woozy. Nathaniel tries to somehow pull her or push her or something to prevent her from jumping, but he stumbles and misses her leg by inches. Taiga leaps and lands a DOUBLE STOMP, bringing all her weight down on Thoth's chest. She rolls him up in a tight pin... ONE! TWO!! ...THREE!!! The ref calls for the bell. DING!!! Neither wrestler moves as Funyon makes the announcement. "Ladies and Gentlemen, the winner of the match, and going to the FINALS of the Cold Front Classic tournament, TAIGAA STAAAR!" Be a Man reprises. Thoth hears that his music is not playing and it sends him into a rage. He chases the ref out of the ring, kicks the ropes, and goes after Taiga once again. He kicks and chokes her until security can come in and pull him off her. They drag him kicking and screaming from the ring, where he is met by Nathaniel. He is happy to see Thoth has finished the match, and tells him they can go out drinking now. When Thoth gives him a dirty look, he is confused as to why. Taiga is still in the ring, barely moved since the closing bell. Her throat is crossed with a deep red line and her hand is visibly swollen. Referee Hall rolls back into the ring to check on her. His concern makes him call medics from the back. El Gordo squeezes into the ring to check her also, though he is not really smart enough to do anything constructive. Two medical personnel slide into the ring. One checks her throat as the other wraps her hand in some gauze. After a few tense minutes, the crowd cheers as they see Taiga Star being rolled out of the ring. As she is assisted to the back, El Gordo trails her, holding her Cruiserweight title. Taiga stops and turns around. The medics wonder why. Taiga looks out to the crowd and waves to them, and they pop in reply. The medics carry her to the back, the ref and El Gordo follow.

“And we're back again, folks! Mak Francis and the Suicide King, here to continue the Cold Front Classic. We're into the quarter-finals now, and things are getting very, very interesting, to say the least!” Mak leans into the microphone as if this added something to his opening minilogue. “Yes, still in New York City at the Times Union Center, and things are definitely moving the right direction!” King pipes jovially. “Michael Alexander has advanced to the second round of this tournament, and tonight we'll hopefully get to see him come within a shaved card of locking things up.” “Don't count your Igors yet, King! Our resident Mad Scientist still has to get past TORU tonight, which inevitably means he'll have to get past Chris Card and Natasha.” “TORU is tough enough on his own, but with Card and Natasha in his corner, things get that much more interesting. But I have complete confidence that Michael will be able to come up with some means of neutralizing the extra “Card” up TORU's sleeve, Francis.” King laughs at his weak pun. Funyon clambers into the ring once again, his microphone in hand. Referee Brock Samson leans against the turnbuckle, checking something on his watch. He stretches as Funyon begins to earn his very likely overabundant paycheck. “Ladies and Gentlemen, the following match is a Quarter Final Match in the SWF Cold Front Classic! It will be one fall!” A resounding bell heralds the beginning of “For Whom the Bell Tolls” by Metallica, and a video montage of Michael Alexander’s previous in-ring exploits interwoven with a new branching double-helix fractal graphic. The montage has been updated to include bits that feature Toxxic, MANSON, and Insane Luchador. Blue and white strobes flicker in the arena, and as the guitar kicks in... The largest announcer in professional wrestling continues, “First, from Greenville, SC...weighing in at 221 lbs...he is the Mad Scientist of the Mat...MIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIICHAEL AAAAAAAAAAAAAALEXAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANDER!” “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Alexander steps out onto the stage, and the flicker lighting stops dead. He gazes out over the crowd, smirks, and makes his way to the ring. As Michael walks to the ring and crawls in, it is very noticeable that he is still suffering some effects of his battle with Bruner. His normally snappy step through the ropes is somewhat slower and more methodical. His smirk turns for a moment in the direction of a grimace, but he quickly reasserts his general look of disdain. Alexander stalks over to his corner and leans lightly into it. The lights go down and the pulsing electronic beats of ‘Tribe’ by Mad Capsule Markets start up as strobes flicker across the audience. ‘T K O’ flashes up on the Smarktron interspersed with images of the duo doing what they do best. “And his opponent...from Saitama Prefecture in Japan, accompanied to the ring by Chris Card Enterprises...weighing in at 246 lbs...he is ½ of the DVS Tag Team Champions TKO...TOOOOOOOOOORU TAAAAAAKAHAAAAAAAAARAAAAAAAA!” “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Chris Card and Natasha come out and start to walk down to the ring as Funyon speaks. TORU appears as the first guitar riff hits, folding his arms and glowering out at the crowd while the muted Japanese chanting builds up to... *BOOOM!* ‘TRIIIIIIBE! Why don’t you strike, justify your mind!’ The pyro goes off and TORU makes his way unhurriedly down to the ring, whereupon Natasha removes the Japanese Hammer's coat and hands his shades to Chris Card for safekeeping. TORU then jumps straight up to the ring apron, grabbing the top rope. He jumps in over it, with an exaggerated sneer and a double bird for Mr. Alexander, who grins wickedly back. “TORU, Card, and Natasha...all in top form,” King remarks happily. “If only this were the finale of this tournament. I swear, we're giving away some of our best talent for this ridiculous tournament. Why not just hand Alexander the title shot, then TORU could be his first title defense?” “You're jumping way ahead, King. We've seen a lot of strange things in this tournament, and more's still to come, I'm sure. And the guy that claws his way to the top of this heap will still have to go up against the Maori Badass. That's kind of like fighting through an army to get to the place where the nuke's going to hit. Plus, Michael is showing a little wear-and-tear from his match with Tracey Bruner last night, and TORU is one hell of a chaser. Then, the winner here has another match tonight before they even get to the finals.” “I have faith, Francis.” “In what? No, wait, I don't want to know.” Brock Samson glowers at both men, then at Chris Card Enterprises. He checks to see if both men are ready, then he calls for the bell... DING! DING! TORU smiles arrogantly as he closes with his opponent. Alexander's smirk remains as the two collide in a collar-and-elbow. The Japanese Hammer wastes no time in playing to his strengths, delivering a vicious knee to Alexanders midsection! This stuns Michael sufficiently to allow TORU to toss him bodily into across the ring. Alexander rolls back up to his feet, nursing his ribs from the knee. “Powerful knee from TORU to start things off,” Mak remarks. “He's going after what has to be a sore spot for Michael after that hard-fought victory over Mister Bruner.” “Michael had better be able to counter that kind of attack, or this whole tournament will be a waste of time,” King complains. “The whole purpose of this, if it has one, is to put the SWF belt back around Michael's waist.” TORU, true to form, engages in the sort of sign language that easily reaches across cultural lines with the extension of his two middle fingers. The Mad Scientist's face is grim as the two men lock up again. The Japanese Hammer shrugs him off easily, and then slaps Alexander in the face. The Evil Genius is seems momentarily stunned by this. TORU then happily asserts his existence with a shout of “TORU!” and raises his arms. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” At this point, the Mad Scientist moves with an alacrity that is as surprising as it is effective. With TORU's arms raised, Michael shoots in low, slipping behind his opponent and clipping Takahara with a snappy single leg takedown. TORU's arrogance shifts to shock as he topples forward. Shock shifts to pain as Michael Alexander takes an early opportunity to tie the Gordian Knot! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” “Holy--! The Gordian Knot!” Mak shouts. “He's got it on, Francis, but is it too early?” King asks. The Japanese Hammer snarls in pain, but fortunately for him he has not been worn down enough to prevent him from using his free leg and sheer strength to scramble to the ropes! He grabs the cords of steel salvation, and Referee Samson calls for the break...which Michael Alexander ignores with a wicked grin. The Mad Scientist wrenches the hold repeatedly as Samson snarls out a count, only releasing the hold at the count of 4. Alexander is quickly back to his feet, although he lifts a surreptitious hand to his midsection. Samson pushes him back to allow TORU a chance to get back to his feet after Alexander's refusal to break the hold on command. “And Michael can't resist stretching that break rule to its...well, you know, King.” “Bah! The rule's not broken until the five count, Francis, and you know it. I say Michael's smart to start working on those legs quickly. If anything hampers TORU throwing those knees around, it's a bonus for Michael.” Card and Natasha call for Samson to disqualify Michael immediately, with Card even going so far as to leap up to the ring apron and raise an accusatory finger in the referee's face. A pregnant twitch of Brock Samson's eyebrow sends Card back down to the floor without a murmur as TORU gets back up, shaking his right leg in an attempt to test the damage done. He glares at Alexander, whose smirk draws another snarl from the Japanese Hammer. “TORU getting an early taste of the Gordian Knot from Alexander there, but I don't know if enough damage was done to really slow the big man down, King.” “Every little bit helps, Francis, when you're up against a striking machine like Takahara.” The two men circle each other once more, both a little wary now. TORU goes for the tieup again, but Alexander deftly avoids giving the big man another open shot at his midsection by doing a quick go-behind into a rear waistlock! The Japanese Hammer immediately grabs for Michael's wrists to muscle his way out of the hold, but the Evil Genius quickly drops him to the ground with a side slam, floating over into a front facelock position...or he would have, had he not chosen to slap Takahara across the back of the head instead. The big man surges back to his feet, but Alexander is already out of immediate reprisal range, and TORU fumes visibly. The crowd seems to enjoy this somewhat. “YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAH!” “And little dose of his own medicine for TORU. Michael had better be taking this man seriously though, King, or he'll regret it.” “You can't help but take TORU seriously, Francis. He outweighs Michael by close to 40 lbs., and he's a powerhouse to boot. A guy as smart as Alexander always takes someone like that seriously.” Nostrils flaring with stoked ire, the Japanese Hammer comes at Michael again. The Evil Genius tries to shoot low and to the side once more, but TORU is a fast learner. He displays this to Alexander with a brutal driving knee to the Mad Scientist's gut, lifting him off the mat and folding him up like a deck chair. Only TORU's merciless grip keeps Michael from crumpling to the mat. As it is, he gasps for what breath he can as the Japanese Hammer drives yet another knee into Alexander's recognizably tender midsection. Takahara then pulls Michael into a suplex clutch, then hoists the Evil Genius up, walking around with him, taking the opportunity to fling insults in Japanese at the crowd. Finally, TORU falls back to slam Alexander into the mat! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” The crowd seems to not so much mind the pummeling of Alexander so much as the perceived insults to them. “Takahara with a suplex and a display of power! Can Alexander counter this, King?” “At his best, sure. After being brutalized by a man-mountain like Bruner yesterday? I don't know, but for the sake of the SWF, we'd better hope so. Alexander has to win this thing so he can take out the Maori, Francis! He has to!” Card and Natasha clap reservedly as TORU gets back to his feet. Michael stirs briefly, rolling instinctively over onto his stomach. The Japanese Hammer walks casually over to Alexander's side and drives a vicous knee into the ribs of Alexander, sending him rolling away and clutching his midsection once again. TORU follows slowly, laughing and commenting with seeming sarcasm (again, Japanese). His slow approach does give Alexander time to use the ropes to get to a vertical base once more. Takahara grapples Michael from behind, pulling him into position for a backdrop suplex. The Japanese Hammer holds Alexander up on his shoulders, once again in a display of contempt...but the Evil Genius realizes his precarious position, and fires off a series of vicious punches to the top of TORU's head! Takahara staggers a little, then decides to toss Alexander out over the the nearby ropes to the outside. Unfortunately for TORU, Michael holds on to TORU's head even as he tries to dump the Evil Genius out over the top, pulling an unbalanced Japanese Hammer's head and neck across the top rope with a nasty guillotine! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” “Hah!” King guffaws. “That's why he's 'The Evil Genius!' Brains beats brawn, Francis!” “Well, I think it probably had a lot to do with TORU wasting a lot of time with taunting him and showing off, King.” TORU stumbles away toward his corner near Card and Natasha, seemingly looking around for his partner as he tries to choke some air down his suddenly constricted throat. Michael lands on his feet on the apron, and a terrible grin spreads across his face as he sees the back of the Japanese Hammer turned towards him. The Mad Scientist leaps onto the top rope and springs out to deliver a brutal chopblock to the right knee of Takahara! The big man howls in pain as he pitches to the mat! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” “Good God, King! That kind of move could cripple someone!” “I know,” King sniffs in mock seriousness. “But wasn't it beautiful? It's not often you get to see that kind of thing. That's gotta be the best chopblock ever.” That maneuver seems to have had adverse effects on Alexander as well, as he clutches his midsection, either from the exertion of the injured muscles or the impact of the the landing from the springboard chopblock. TORU rolls towards his corner, reaching up to try and get himself to a vertical base again. His right leg doesn't seem to like this idea, and it wobbles precipitously. Michael forces himself to rise as well, gritting his teeth and clutching his midsection. “Unfortunately for Alexander, it looks like that move may have done some damage to him as well. The impact on his midsection may have aggravated things for him too, King.” “Well, his legs still seem to be okay. Let's just hope he didn't hurt himself so badly that he can't finish things off. Come on, Michael!” The Japanese Hammer decides to try to regain the initiative, pushing himself into a charge to deliver a lariat that Alexander easily ducks due to TORU's slowed approach. The Mad Scientist then fires a series of quick kicks to the inside and outside of Takahara's right knee. The big man stumbles and counters with a quick thumb to the eye. Michael snarls in pain, and TORU presses the advantage with a powerful knee to the midsection that sends Alexander tumbling to the mat, curling into a protective knot around his damaged abdomen. The Japanese Hammer's own damaged knee does cause him to lose his balance drop to one knee, but he shifts this to his own purpose, holding up his hands in mock submission and begging off from the prone knot of pain that is Alexander. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “TORU's knees are apparently still a powerful factor in this match, King. They may be wobbly, but they're still dangerous.” “Even a dead snake can still bite you, Francis. And that may have shifted the momentum back to TORU.” Mak laments, “If only TORU didn't waste that momentum with those ridiculous taunts.” Takahara gets back to his feet and stomps over to Alexander, lifting him back to his feet roughly. TORU then berates the staggering Mad Scientist in Japanese before slapping him in the face once again. That seems to light a fire under Michael again, as he snaps off a vicious cycle of kicks to TORU's right leg. “And it looks like all the mocking has gotten TORU into trouble again, King. Big surprise, there.” “He should know that when you've got a wrestler the caliber of Michael Alexander on the ropes, you don't fool around, Francis. You've got to know WHEN to mock.” The Japanese Hammer stumbles dropping again down to one knee, and Alexander dashes into the ropes, rebounding for a flying forearm...but Takahara catches him and smashes him to the mat with his standing spinebuster! TORU takes the opportunity to go for the pin...and Samson drops to count! “No Through Road from TORU!” Mak shouts. “That might be it!” “Oh, no!” King squeaks. ONE! TWO! THRE—NO! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” Alexander kicks out just in time. TORU growls something to Samson, who responds with something that causes Takahara to immediately return his focus to the match. Alexander has managed to roll away, but the Japanese Hammer goes right after him, kicking him in the ribs zealously. “Michael managed to escape, but TORU smells blood now, Francis. Can even Michael survive TORU the day after a match with Bruner?” “Well, I could care less if Alexander wins the tournament, but I would hate to have to put up with Card and Natasha for the rest of the whole series. For that alone, I hope Alexander can keep things going tonight, King.” Michael folds around his injured midsection, but TORU hauls him up anyway. The big man lifts Alexander up into a lateral press. His right leg wobbles a little, but he stands for a moment anyway, just to show the slight effort involved. Then, with a smile borrowed from a crocodile, the Japanese Hammer flips backwards to crush his opponent with a Blockbuster Slam! He hooks the leg and goes for the pin again! ONE! TWO! THREE... NO! “He almost had him again! That's two 2-counts...things aren't looking good for Alexander, King.” “Michael's tough, and by rights he should win this thing, but The Cockroach Conspiracy continues to stack the deck against him by putting him in the first two rounds against two powerhouses like Bruner and TORU.” Again, the Mad Scientist just barely escapes. TORU slaps the mat three times in rapid succession, but the referee holds up two fingers still. The big man snarls something in Japanese as he gets back to his feet. He glances over to Card and Natasha, each of whom nod. This done, Natasha begins to make her way to the other side of the ring. Card makes as if to toss a spray can to TORU, who reaches for it. Samson sees it and catches it instead. The Referee stalks over to Card, tossing the can to the ringside attendant. The angry official points an accusatory finger at Card and begins snarling at him to leave ringside or have TORU disqualified. Card begs off, but Samson stabs his finger toward the ramp with authority. “What is this? Thank God the Ref caught that can before things went completely to Hell, King.” “I can't believe Card was that careless, Francis...hey, what's Natasha doing over there?” Meanwhile, TORU has dragged Alexander to his feet and over to the opposite ropes, where Natasha has pulled another Aerosol Equalizer, which she shakes vigorously as TORU holds Michael up for a face full of mace...but just as the femme fatale goes for the spray, the Evil Genius drops out of the way, and it's TORU who intimately experiences aerosol equalization! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” “Alexander might be earning the mantle of Evil Genius tonight! He just turned the tables on Chris Card Enterprises with their own Aerosol Equalizer, King!” “Good for Michael! Live by the sword, die by the sword, Francis. Card tried to be double sneaky tonight, but Michael saw it coming!” Horrified, Natasha leaps down to the floor just as Samson turns back to the action as Card begins to make his way slowly up the ramp, until he sees Natasha run back up to him and hurriedly whisper to him. TORU claws at his eyes, trying in vain to clear them. The Evil Genius takes advantage of the situation by snagging the big man from behind and snarls with effort as he lifts him up, spins him, and drops Takahara to the mat with his Blue Thunder Driver! “YYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” “The Event Horizon! This could be it!” “I doubt anybody can kick out of mace and being dropped on their head, Francis. I'd say this is it!” King rubs his hands gleefully. Samson, unaware of the mace issue, drops to count, even as Card and Natasha begin to run back towards the ring. ONE! TWO! THREE! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” “Alexander advances to the next round! Say what you want, King, we're definitely getting some exciting matches out of this!” “I'm just glad Michael's going on, but after two straight matches of brutal beatings, I don't know if he's going to be able to claw his way through tonight. At least he'll have a break after his final match tonight.” Alexander clambers back to his feet, now seriously showing the wear-and-tear on his midsection. Samson raises Alexander's hand, unfortunately occupying the Evil Genius' attention just long enough to allow an incensed Chris Card to catch the Mad Scientist with a brutal superkick. Michael drops like he's been shot. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “Damn it, get Card out of there! That was uncalled for! Card's little plan backfired because Alexander outsmarted him, and Card's just a sore loser!” “I think Michael's going to be the sore one after that kick, Francis. I agree it was uncalled for. We, all of us, NEED Michael to win this thing! Just let it go, Chris!” Natasha is ministering to a bewildered and annoyed Takahara, applying something to help neutralize the spray, but it doesn't seem to do much. No doubt things would be degenerating into beatdown if Referee Samson was not swift to intervene. The huge referee shoves Card back, and growls something that causes Chris Card Enterprises to leave matters well enough alone. Natasha and Card lead a still-blinded Japanese Hammer to the back. Several ringside attendants are checking on Alexander, who manages to sit up, but stumbles back to the mat when he tries to stand. “Alexander's really looking the worse for wear, King. If it wasn't for TORU still being blinded by the Aerosol Equalizer, I'd say he looked more like the winner than Alexander at this point.” “Those damn medics better do their jobs and get Michael patched up, Francis. He's our only hope!” Michael glares at the exiting forms of Chris Card Enterprises, fury and pain etched across his face. He snaps at one of the medics who have now entered the ring as the man palpitates his ribs. The Mad Scientist rubs his jaw, but manages a wicked grin as we... FADE OUT.

"The following is a quarter-final round match up, set for ONE fall!" begins Funyon. "With the winner moving onto the semi-final later tonight." One second after he's done speaking, we hear the tones of Helter Skelter fill the arena, signaling the arrival of the Toronto contingent of this tournament. Just as a series of spotlights begin dancing all over the arena, the New York crowd erupt in a dose of respectful cheer once the familiar blue and white graphics come onto the Smarktron. "First, about to come down the aisle. From Toronto, Ontario, Canada; weighing in at 237 lbs: Toood - Jaaames - Stuart!!" declares the ring announcer. With a slightly faster step and more determination, Tod James Stuart walks through the curtains and immediately marches towards the ring while acknowledging the crowd with a quick pump of the fist. While he definitely appreciates the love and respect thrust upon him, tonight is all about getting past an all too important step in order to advance in the tournament. Free of his usual t-shirt, Stuart wipes the sole of his boot on the ringside mat, and slides underneath the bottom rope. He unwinds with a brief stretching session in the ropes and then retreats to a corner. Awaiting the opposition. "Tod James Stuart has had a full night's rest and he was up early this morning in anticipation of this match. He found out he was going up against a potential future target of his;" says Mak Francis. "The co-holder of the tag team championship, Luke Breslin. He's made it clear at first that he and Daniel Smith were gunning for the belts. But then, at the urging of his tag team partner, he actually put those aspirations on hold long enough to take part in the Cold Front Classic. Last night he successfully defeated X-Punk in an impressive match that could've gone either way, but mat-savvy and experience won over the impetuousness of youth. Tod Stuart is one of eight competitors to advance to the quarter-finals, and tonight he hopes to take it one step further and move onto the semi-finals. However, this undertaking is quite large in nature. He has to face a man, who along with his brother, was able to accomplish the task of having to defeat the nearly invincible T.K.O. and win the tag team titles. If he wants to go on, tonight, Tod James Stuart has to hand Luke Breslin his FIRST loss in singles competition." Helter Skelter has long since faded away and Stuart hasn't moved an inch from his corner, head low and deep in thought. He doesn't even flinch as the crowd explodes at the opening notes of AC-DC's Thunderstruck. The lights slowly dim as flood lights pop in and out of various spots of the arena while the legendary song opening crescendoes to its full beat. "Thun-Dah!" This is Luke Breslin's auditory cue to dart through the curtains, the proverbial residence in a state of consumption. To offset Stuart's dark blue long tights, Breslin has chosen to go with the all-white model of his usual ring wear adorned with the iconic "I (heart) NY" logo emblazoned on the backside. Sporting the official Cold Front Classic "Tournament Grid" t-shirt that was issued to all of the participants, Breslin is all by himself as he saunters from one side of the ramp to the other, slapping palms with cheering fans along the way. "His opponent!" says Funyon. "Making his way down to the ring. From Philadelphia, Pennsylvania; weighing in at 256 lbs. He is one half of the SWF World Tag Team Champions: Lllllllluke - Brrrrrrrrresliiiiiiiiin!" "Luke Breslin has been on an absolute roll in the past few months." states Mak. "He's worked all the way up to number one contender status for the World Heavyweight championship. But then, in an unexpected move, he actually traded in that title shot for a *tag team* title shot. Along with his brother Leo, he went toe-to-toe with the champions and refused to give up no matter what. Chris Card Enterprises and T.K.O. have tried throwing everything at the Breslins, but the brothers did the unthinkable and defeated the undefeatable TORU and KOJI in order to become the NEW SWF Tag Team champions. With one defense under his belt, Luke has another opportunity at the World title and THIS time, he intends to go all the way. He's already managed to get by Spike Jenkins last night. But tonight, in his path, is a very determined Tod James Stuart. Who not only is set to become number one contender after coming so very close after battling the Insane Luchadore; but for a while has been set on redeeming himself in the eyes of fans and co-workers alike. That alone could make him the most dangerous competitor in this tournament." Bumping knuckles with one last ringside fan, Luke Breslin hops onto the ring steps and crosses the ropes in order to greet the rest of his faithful with a mighty double fist pump. He repeats the maneuver in two different corners before finally freeing himself of his t-shirt and unstrapping his tag team belt from around his waist. He trades glances with his Tod James Stuart; who can't help but cast an all-too noticeable three-second peek at the belt that's being handed to referee Red Herrington. Just as the AC-DC anthem fades to a stop, the belt is handed off to the ring announcer, and the referee beckons both men to center ring. "Red's gonna call for the bell, and here we go!" declares Mak. Both men begin circling each other; but first they take a second to slap palms in center ring in order to establish the mutual respect that's to become a theme for this match. Once that's done, both men converge into a powerful collar and elbow tieup that soon goes to Luke Breslin because of the size advantage. Breslin tries to go into a corner, but Stuart will have none of it as he snatches an arm-twist of out the hold. With a spin, he cranks it into a rear hammerlock and into a headlock that brings both men back to center ring. Breslin manages to shift his weight backwards and throw Stuart off into the ropes. On the return bounce, he catches the Canadian with a hard shoulder tackle that knocks his opponent down. Effectively taking the bait, Breslin throws himself into a set of ropes which allows Stuart to roll onto his stomach. Bouncing off the ropes, Breslin expects having to leap over Stuart's prone body, but to his surprise he finds him up on his feet in a flash and taking him down with a drop toehold! Before Breslin can react, Stuart quickly traps him in an Oklahoma Roll! Shades of last night... "One!" "Tw-" Luke Breslin has furiously wiggled free as soon as 'One!' was uttered. The man is initially upset at his opponent's brashness, but soon melts into an approving smirk. He can't help but think he'd have done the same, had the roles been reversed. He wastes no time as both men quickly get back up, and circle into another lockup. It quickly goes back and forth until Stuart snatches a headlock. He tries to cinch it in, but Breslin wastes no time in shoving him off to the ropes. He stands his ground, ready to welcome the Canadian with a hard shoulder tackle, but nobody budges upon contact. Stuart takes off towards the adjacent ropes, aided in his course by a slap to the shoulder from Breslin. The man bends down in an attempt to backdrop Stuart up over him, but Stuart puts on the brakes and counters it with a punt to the head! Breslin is staggered from the blow, allowing Stuart to capture his left arm and twist it into an uncomfortable position. The strain causes Breslin to double over, but Stuart keeps him in check with a pair of heavy stinging shin kicks to the chest. "Breslin is a tough opponent to beat in his own right." states Mak. "But if you want to cut him down to size, Tod Stuart's Slapshot is the ideal maneuver to get an offense going." Stuart places his boot on the side of Breslin's face, but Breslin is able to swat the boot away and reel Stuart in with an Irish whip to the ropes. Wasting no time, Breslin catches the rebounding Stuart and connects with a spinebuster! He quickly floats over into a lateral press. "One!" "Two!" As soon as Stuart shoots the arm up, Breslin has him isolated with a front facelock in order to muscle him up to his feet and pushes him off into a corner. This is where he isolates Stuart with a series of heavy knee lifts to the midsection, depriving him of precious air. He follows it up with a strong Irish whip that sends Stuart into the opposite corner. He charges immediately after him and *nails* him with a corner spear! Breslin catches Stuart staggering out into a sidewalk slam attempt; but Stuart mightily struggles to hold on! Before the move connects, Stuart blocks it by throwing his leg and nailing Breslin on the side of the head with a brief series of knee strikes. Landing on his feet, Stuart grabs his own facelock and plants Breslin with a snap DDT! He rolls over and puts all of his weight into another lateral press. "One!" "Two!" This time, Breslin uses his strong legs to fully kick out. Before he can get back up, Stuart contains his resurgence with a well-placed forearm drop to the forehead. He lifts him up by the scruff of the neck and brings him into a corner where he proceeds to hammer away at him with a pair of heavy elbow strikes. Just as Red orders him out of the corner, Stuart gets set to Irish whip Breslin into the opposite corner, but it's reversed. Stuart, upon noticing his charging opponent, raises his boot to counter. But Breslin has anticipated this and cleverly catches the foot. He instantly lets it go in favor of stunning Stuart with a series of hard right hands to the side of the head. He steps out upon urging from the official, but immediately charges forward and connects with his own corner clothesline! Stuart collapses to his knees while Breslin moves the rest of his body to the other side of the ropes onto the apron. Waiting for Stuart to regain his footing, Breslin gracefully climbs up top and waits. And leaps off once Stuart is fully up, hitting him with a high flying lariat! He falls on top and hooks the leg. "One!" "Two!" Stuart has the shoulder up, but Breslin has him back up. Grabbing Stuart by the waist, he finally gets his intended move as he cracks Stuart across his knee with a backbreaker! Holding onto the move, Breslin pushes Stuart's chin downwards, which applies further pressure to the back. Stuart goes back to a tried and true defense out of it, as he again swings his knee and connects with Breslin's exposed temple! One strike is enough to break the offense, and a second dislodges him from the champion's grip. Stuart ducks under a wild lunge from Breslin and grabs a rear waistlock. This is a precursor to a crunching German suplex that gets delivered to Breslin! Holding onto the move, Stuart rolls into his side and delivers a second one! Mustering up his strength, he repeats the move and delivers a third one! This one he bridges into a pin. "One!" "Two!" "Thr-" Breslin throws his shoulder to the side, but Stuart is adamant about keeping the hold. Under the encouragement of the crowd, he gets both men back up and delivers a *fourth* German suplex! A fifth! The crowd is nearly on their feet as Stuart slowly muscles Breslin back up, and executes a SIXTH German suplex! Rather than maintain another bridge for the pin, Stuart lets Breslin collapse to the mat, and then falls on top of him. "One!" "Two!" "Thr-" "Noooo!" yells sharp-eyed Red Herrington. A mix of exhaustment and shock, Stuart can do nothing but stare at Breslin's fist shaking in determination. Morphing to a look of determination of his own, Stuart regains his feet, staring daggers into his opponent... and puts his arms out. "If I'm not mistaken," notes Mak. "that's the signal for the Silent Scream! Stuart wants to end this as soon as possible! And there's no better weapon in his arsenal to do so!" Accompanying his gesture with "Come on" hand motions, Stuart watches intently his opponent slowly getting back up... but he's spotted. Breslin has turned in such a way that he faces Stuart and sees him at the ready. He casts a defiant glare at the Canadian, who's now prompted to switch strategies on the fly. He charges forward towards the champion, but he's caught with a drop toehold! Rather than his usual single-leg crab, he follows it up by neutralizing Stuart with an elbow drop to the back of the neck! He takes a second to cradle the back of his aching head, and twisting his soon-to-be sore neck to get a crack out of it. With a sweeping "That's it!" motion of the hands. He lifts up Stuart and eases his head in between his legs as the crowd begins to erupt at the familiar sight. "The Silent Scream is effective." says Mak Francis. "But this move is just as effective, if not moreso! This is one of two moves that have led Luke to more than one victory. If he hits the Breslin Bomb right here and now after a few minutes, we could very well see him move onto the next round!" Sensing this can't possibly be a favorable position, Stuart perks up and prevents any further offense by stiffening his back and sending Breslin over and down to the mat with a backdrop! Stuart is quickly on Breslin with a few controlling forearm shots. He gets set for another Irish whip to a corner, and once again Breslin is steadfast in his reversals. Sending Stuart to the turnbuckles once again, Breslin opts to charge immediately after him but Stuart has thought one step ahead as he boosts himself off the bottom rope and intends sails over the dashing Breslin... but he's CAUGHT! With Stuart suddenly draped over Breslin's back and being held by the legs; Breslin whips him forward and PLANTS him to the mat with an Alabama Slam! Where the skies are so blue, Tod Stuart is seeing nothing but stars and is NOT moving. "You're going to bust out a Skynyrd reference any second now, are you?" demands Suicide King, readying his palm to be slapped against his forehead. "If you insist!" indulges Mak Francis. "I hope Neil Young will remember, a southern man won't go down easily, just like Tod James Stuart or Luke Breslin! This has rapidly become an even contest, and both men have made it clear that they want to win it as soon as possible!" Seeing his Canadian opponent just barely beginning to stir, Luke Breslin takes an extra second to catch his breath and rest up. He moves to center ring, where he busts out mighty roar for the fans along with a phantom three-quarter facelock. "Luke Breslin is without a doubt the world's shittiest mime," begins King. "But even these fine bungalow dwellers and soccer moms can see we're about to witness a very quick end to this match." Forearms resting on his thighs, coiled like a snake, Luke Breslin waits as his opponent finally squirms off the mat and takes a knee. "Breslin has got him in his sights!" exclaims Mak. "Is Tod James Stuart about to be Thunderstruck? He's about to find out, just as he's getting up to his feet." Stuart finally regains his footing, but is one second too late in noticing Bresling two feet behind him and standing at the ready. Stuart barely has time to spin 180 that Breslin launches into his Thunderstruck combo with the toe kick. A half-second later, he goes to hook in the honest to goodness three-quarter facelock... but it's blocked into the Silent Scream! Breslin's wild thrashing around prevents Stuart from applying the full pressure, but it's a battle that he's very close to losing. Before Stuart can clasp his arms together and lock in the first portion of the dangerous hold, Breslin wildly throws himself backwards and squashes Stuart's back into the turnbuckles. This loosens his grip long enough to allow Breslin to use his free right arm to grab Stuart's own and flip him over onto his back with a judo throw. "All hope is not lost for the Breslin family," notes King. "Because tonight Luke-O just became one of the very few men to successfully avoid AND counter the Silent Scream! The man has done his homework because Tod James Stuart has an excellent track record for applying this hold." Once Stuart is back up, Breslin neutralizes him with another toe kick to the stomach. This time, he opts to trap him back into the standing headscissor. With a mighty pump of the fist, he signals for what the fans know as the Breslin Bomb, but Stuart is also one who is well-schooled in his opponent's offense. Just as Breslin wraps his arms around Stuart's waist, he finds himself unable to lift the man up. Through sheer force of willpower, Stuart will not leave the mat and even goes as far as planting a knee into the canvas. The Canadian finally uses a brief moment of respite from Breslin to shove his way out of the hold and into the ropes. Upon bouncing back, Stuart meets his opponent with a heavy elbow strike to the head! Another one further rocks Breslin, and a third one leaves him out on his feet. Taking two steps back, Stuart fires up for a fourth and final knockdown blow, but it's ducked as soon as Stuart charges! Breslin regains his bearings as he nails Stuart with some strikes of his own in the form of a heavy series of right hands. Gearing up for his own final blow, Breslin swings... but he's caught in a uranage! Stuart drive the back of his head into his own knee! Before he can chain the move into an S.T.O., Breslin furiously unleashes some elbows to the side of Stuart's head in order to break free. This has the desired effect, shaking off the Canadian. He quickly thrusts him back into the standing headscissor... and lifts him up this time! "Breslin is going once again for his namesake finishing move, the Breslin Bomb!" exclaims Mak over the raucous crowd. "Stuart is doing his absolute best to fight him off!" Sensing his impending doom, Stuart begins feverishly hammering away at Breslin's temple with hard right hands. This helps to faze the tag champion, but his grip remains cast-iron. When punches don't work, Stuart switches his attack to a series downward elbow thrusts right on top of the cranium. This finally works, enabling him to wiggle free and land on his feet. He grabs hold of Breslin's wrist, but the champion does his best to hold his ground. Both men seem to fight for an Irish whip, until Stuart breaks the proverbial chain by striking at the joined wrists with his free hand. He immediately follows it up by leaping off his feet and connecting with a HUGE enziguiri kick to the back of the head of Breslin! Spaghetti-legged, the tag team champion is helpless as Stuart grabs him in the Burning Hammer position, only to sweep out his legs from under him and RAMS the back of his head into the SWF logo-adorned canvas! "There it is!! The Brain Go Splat!! This could do it right here!" declares Mak. Stuart impatiently dives on top of Breslin and hooks one leg with his arms, and the other leg with his own leg. Red Herrington is in place. "One!!" "Two!!" "Three!!!" The bell rings. There's music that plays that's definitely his. The announcer confirms it all by saying his name. "Here is your winner, and moving onto the semi-finals: Toood - Jaaames - Stuaaaaart!!" "It's now two down and two to go for ol' TJ." states Suicide King. "He's been on a roll so far in this tournament, and if he keeps this up, he could very well be challenging for the World Heavyweight championship in the near future. And although his tastes in music and hockey teams suck quite hard in my opinion, I've got to hand this to him: if somehow he can't make it past the semi-final against his to-be-determined opponent, he will have THIS to fall back on. A decisive victory against one of the men he's been having his eye on, Luke Breslin, co-tag team champion. I hope Leo was watching this, and I hope Luke's gonna take notes. Because he's just suffered a very rare pinfall loss, and he just might have discovered a serious threat to their tag team title reign." While Luke Breslin is still cradling his mush of a brain contained within his shaken-up skull, Tod James Stuart's face is still the embodiment of shock over his accomplishment. Right up until the referee comes over to raise his hand in victory, allowing the Canadian to erupt with a mighty fist in the air to his cadre of supporters in New York. "I know for a fact" says Mak Francis. "that Tod Stuart has fans all over the country. Just over three hours from here are the gorgeous Niagara Falls, which are just a half-hour outside of Toronto. Some of these people have made the three-hour trip to witness their favorite wrestler gain one step towards achieving his dream and they couldn't be happier for the time being." After pointing and recognizing several blue and white signs, Tod James Stuart takes center ring one more time for a final thank you to the Albany crowd. Walking backwards, he turns around just in time to see Luke Breslin back on his feet, holding the back of his head, and his demeanor none too pleased. Stuart thinks about throwing his guard up, but at the same time doesn't wish to further escalate a potentialy volatile situation. The crowd had quieted down to a few whispers, but soon erupt in a clapping frenzy once the tag team champion finally extends a hand. After a few seconds of hesitation, Stuart finally takes the proffered hand with a nod of respect. Breslin pulls him in closer, along with a few words that the ringside cameraman is quick to pick up... "Nice work... We'll see you soon." ...

Funyon stands in the middle of the ring, ready to make the introductions for the next match. "Ladies and Gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one-fall and is a quarter final match in the SWF Undisputed Title Tournament! The Cruiserweight title is not on the line. The referee for this contest is Izzy Slapowitch." The referee waves but no one is paying attention as the house lights dim and a rumbling storm sounds as if it is brewing. Various murmurs and incantations in the background soon transform into distorted warbling, demonic in tone, as the crowd rises to their feet. Soon 'God is God' by Juno Reactor begins and strobes begin to pulse, while spotlights roam the arena. The shrouded MANSON emerges to a deluge of jeers and insults as he makes his way down the ramp. "Introducing first, hailing from Denver, Colorado, weighing in at two hundred and twenty pounds, the Savage Messiah, MANSON!!" His eyes dart left and right, taking in his surroundings, before arriving ringside. He slides into the ring, pulling the aluminum bat out from underneath his cloak and stomping about, swinging it around wildly with malicious intent, causing Funyon and Izzy to scatter to the safety of the corner turnbuckle. MANSON drops to his knees and crawls back toward his corner, where he discards the bat, letting it drop to the floor, then brushes back his hood and stands, removes his metal mask and disrobes. He drops everything to the ground below, then crouches back down, anxiously rocking back and forth on his heels, ready to attack at any time, and waits for his opponent. Satisfied that MANSON is secure in his corner and free from weaponry, Funyon continues his introductions. "And his opponent, hailing from Helltown, Haverhill, Massachusetts and weighing in at one hundred and 'none of your damn business' pounds, she is the SWF Cruiserweight Champion... TAIGA STAR!!" Be a Man hits as the lights flash crazy though the arena. After the pause in the song, Taiga comes out along with the ultraviolet lasers that stream from the entrance. Taiga looks determined, glancing at the ring for a moment before making her way. She slaps the hands of the fans that offer them as they cheer her appearance. There are several hands that get missed as Taiga seems to be thinking more about the match which lays ahead. The Cruiserweight title gets tossed over the top rope as she slides in under the bottom rope. She grasps it with two hands and pops up, displaying the gold proudly overhead. Before she has the chance to get situated, MANSON jumps her from behind!! DING!! Funyon scurries from the ring, and is handed the Cruiserweight title by the ref, to bring back to the timekeeper's table. MANSON pounds away at Taiga's back and shoves her into the ropes, choking her out on the middle one, his knee firmly placed between her shoulder blades. Referee Slapowitch counts the rope break, and when MANSON doesn't release, he gets between the wrestlers to force MANSON to release. MANSON obliges and backs off as he watches Taiga get up and cough, her hand over her throat. "MANSON has the right idea here, getting the match over with as fast as possible. There's no good reason to tire yourself out, especially when you have another match ahead of you." Suicide King says. Mak Francis turns to his broadcast colleague. "How do you know that MANSON is going to the next round? Ms. Star has proved herself a tough competitor, and she has the same chance as The God Machine does at getting to the next round in the tournament." "How do I know MANSON will win? Because he's MANSON and Taiga is a girl. Enough said." The ref moves and MANSON lunges for Taiga once again. She ducks however and MANSON catches nothing but air. He trips, but does not fall. He turns around into a stiff chop from Taiga's left hand. he winces a bit but has no problem returning the favour. They stand there and trade chops, neither one moving, trying to prove each other as strong-style monsters. Taiga gets right up into MANSON's face. Well, chest. MANSON has almost a foot of height on her. He offers up the knucklelock, and laughs when Taiga cannot reach. Taiga smiles and stomps on his foot though! As he hops about, she sweeps the other leg from under him. He is on the mat and Taiga attempts to throw on some sort of leglock, but MANSON kicks her away. "Wow, what a kick there by MANSON." It was a mighty kick indeed, sending her flying. He is quickly on his feet. MANSON picks her up and throws her with an overhead belly to belly suplex! Taiga lands hard and rolls on her side. MANSON goes for a cover... ONE! TW... Taiga kicks out. MANSON picks her up and whips her into the corner, then follows her in with a forearm. He repeats the forearm several times before throwing her out of the corner by her throat. She lands on her ass, back to MANSON, which makes it easy for him to land a dragon kick. Taiga shouts in pain and holds her back, but doesn't get time to breathe as she is pinned again... ONE! TWO!! ...Taiga kicks out. MANSON picks her up and lifts her high... over his shoulders, in a fireman's carry. Everything that comes up, must come down, and she comes down hard, over his knees! The wind is knocked out of her and she can barely get a breath before she is pinned again... ONE! TWO! Taiga kicks out and grabs her chest, struggling to breathe. MANSON notices this and stomps her a few times. He grabs her arm and pulls her up, practically ripping the limb out in the process. He knees her in the chest several times, each strike driving a strangled grunt from Taiga. Then he proceeds on trying to take her head off with a short armed lariat!! He makes the cover, hooking the leg this time... ONE! TWO!! Taiga gets a shoulder up. MANSON seems upset, but doesn't let it get the best of him. Instead he waits, stalking her as she gets to her knees. When she does, she is rewarded with a brutal CCS Enzuigiri to the head! She is covered, and the crowd screams for her to kick out... ONE! TWO!! TH... Taiga kicks out! MANSON gets up and kicks her several times, big stomps to the chest that knock the wind out of her. He gets to the mat and locks in a slightly uncharacteristic submission hold, his legs squeezing around her middle, stopping her from getting in a deep breath. The referee asks is she wants to give up and she says no. She elbows and punches MANSON's legs, but it is all but inefficient as making him release the hold. She tries to scream but can't get it out. She stomps the mat in frustration. Then she plants her feet flat on the mat and pushes back... back... pushes back on MANSON, and his shoulders touch the mat... ONE! TWO!! But MANSON, being the stronger of the two, doesn't let that pin him. He pushes her back into position, using his hand on the back of her neck to keep her from leaning back again, his legs still locked like a vice around her ribs. From the back emerges a man, quietly and with little fanfare. He is tall and immensely wide, easily weighing four hundred pounds. His identity is hidden by an old school, dark green satin Lucha mask. People are whispering, wondering who he is. Mak Francis recognizes his shape from a segment shown at SWF's AftershoxXx show. The large man waddles down to ringside and waits quietly and patiently at ringside, leaning on the apron and, despite his large size, is barely noticeable. Taiga is still struggling in the constrictive leglock of MANSON. Out of frustration, she leans forward and bites MANSON's leg! He complains to the ref and the ref admonishes Taiga. MANSON leans to the side, taking Taiga along with him. He turns so that he has her in a pinning predicament, his legs still locked around her, and her shoulders on the mat... ONE! TWO!! THRE.... NO! Taiga kicks out!! The crowd pops for her!! The masked big man on the apron claps in approval. MANSON notices him standing there and he questions the ref as to who he is. Ref Slapowitch has no idea who the man is. While he explains this, MANSON is rolled up from behind!!! ONE! TWO!! THR.... MANSON kicks out!!! Quickly he is up and has Taiga whipped into the corner. MANSON gets up a head of steam, running in with a shoulder tackle... only to be met by Taiga's boot to his face!! As he stumbles, Taiga backs up to the second rope. When MANSON comes for her, she lands a headbutt on him!! With her being on the second turnbuckle, she is taller than him, and she gets a really good angle. Again and again, she cracks her skull against his, the thuds echo through the arena and the crowd gasps. Manson stumbles back and Taiga jumps at him, knocking him to the mat with a flying cross body!! Instead of going for the cover, Taiga takes the time to clasp her chest and get some deep breaths. The crowd is cheering and stomping in rhythm to stir the competitors. Even the big man in the mask is slapping the mat, adding to the sound. Taiga is the first to her feet. She clenches her fists and screams. Manson is soon up behind her, but isn't up for long as Taiga dropkicks his legs out from under him. Taiga then gets an idea. She rolls out of the ring and scavenges under it. "Now what is she doing?" asks King, "Doesn't she know that she can get disqualified?" "Taiga Star is knows for her hardcore ways, and perhaps she has had a momentary lapse in..." King interrupts. "You know... I hope she is disqualified." Taiga pulls out a steel chair, and holds it up overhead to show everyone. She hops up onto the apron with it and prepares to toss it into the ring... but the referee stops her! Taiga argues with him, which is a little unusual for her to do. Behind the ref's back, the big masked man slides into the ring by squeezing in under the bottom rope. MANSON notices this (how can anyone NOT notice?) and gets in his face, just to discover the man is taller and about three times his size. MANSON attempts to forearm him down, but the masked man doesn't budge. In one quick, effortless motion, the masked man has MANSON hoisted up over his shoulders, where he is dropped with a Mexican Drop!! The ring shakes massively and both the referee and Taiga hold the top rope to prevent from falling. Izzy the ref is still arguing with Taiga over the legality of using the chair in this match. Taiga suddenly changes her tune. "Oh, really? I can't use this? Okay, sorry." She then drops the chair and comes into the ring. The referee sees MANSON flat out on the mat and the masked fatso leaning against the apron in the same place he was standing before. Taiga goes to MANSON and picks him up. He is dropped on his head with a classic piledriver!! Taiga signals to the top rope and the crowd pops! She makes quick work of the climb and lands a DOUBLE STOMP right in the middle of his chest! She hooks his legs... ONE! TWO!! ...THREE!!! DING!! Be a Man reprises and Funyon makes the announcement. "Ladies and Gentlemen, the winner of this match and going to the next round... TAIGA STAR!!" The crowd is mixed between cheering and booing. Cheering for someone beating the man-monster MANSON, booing for the method she used. The large masked ban squeezes back into the ring and hands the SWF Cruiserweight Title to Taiga, then holds up her hand in the middle of the ring. She points to MANSON and tells the man something. He walks to him and rolls him out of the ring by his foot. MANSON hits the floor in a heap, and is then assisted to the back by the ref. Taiga requests the microphone from Funyon. She clears her throat and motions for her music to be cut. "SWF fans!" The crowd pops. "I would like to introduce my associate, from Mexico... EL GORRRDO GIGANTEEE!!" El Gordo raises his arms and gets a pop from the crowd, surprisingly. Taiga hands the mic back to Funyon. She walks to the ropes and opens them for El Gordo, and he barely squeezes through them with his amazing girth. They make their way to the back, Taiga holding her title proudly and El Gordo following a few paces behind her. "Is that all she had to say?" asks King. "Perhaps we will learn more about this man and Taiga's intentions in the following weeks." Mak says. King shudders looking at him. "I hope they're not going out. I wonder how they would have s..." He is cut off as Mak covers his mic. "Family friendly, King!"

The Cold Front Classic, Night 2. It's one more than Night 1. "Ladies and gentlemen, this next match is a unique situation, to say the least. Dace Night has advanced to night two, but his opponent is unknown at this point, as the match between Spyke and SIN ended in a no-contest. Perhaps one of the losers from Cold Front Classic's first night is going to get another opportunity here," says Mak Francis. "That can't and won't be a popular decision," says the Suicide King. "And if you want my personal opinion, if you lose in this tournament, you're out. This isn't some Street Fighter 2 Double elimination tournament, brother. One loss means hit the showers." "Ladies and Gentlemen," Funyon interrupts, "This next contest is a match in the Cold Front Classic! Introducing first..." It's Winds Of Creation! It's Britain! It's Dace F'n Night! Loud noises and pyro~ Pyro! Pyro! Coming through the pomp and circumstance- "From Birmingham, England, weighing in tonight at 260 pounds, he is... Dace- F'n- Night!" Dace Night slides into the ring, and runs off the ropes, burning off his restlessness"Dace Night has moved on to night two of the Cold Front Classic... who will he be facing tonight? There are a number of worthy competitors that could get their opportunity- "YOU'VE GOT THE TOUCH! YOU'VE GOT THE POWERRRRRRRR... YEAH!" "You have GOT to be kidding me!" shouts Suicide King. "He wasn't even IN the first night of the CFC! Hell, he wasn't even IN the CFC!" "This is certainly a surprise," stammers Mak Francis, as Thoth, flanked by crazy man, Nathaniel Kibagami, appears at the top of the ramp. "His opponent, from Kobe, Japan, weighing in at 251 pounds, being accompanied to the ring by Nathaniel Kibagami... Thoth!" "This is just a wonderful coincidence, eh Mak?" says King, thick with sarcasm. "This is now the second time in as many weeks that Thoth has been a mystery opponent. It seems like the only way Thoth can win his matches is by mystery or bullshit. Take your pick." If anything, Dace Night seems unfazed. No matter who it is in front him, no matter the severity of the challenge, there will inevitably be a head injury, followed by a trip to the hospital. Every single time, without fail. Why should it be any different here? And hell, if Kibagami gets involved, head drop for him too. Who knows, it might make him smarter. Thoth rings-in, and so does the bell, as Stan Bush fades into the distance. The two men start to circle each other. Dace Night with the size advantage, and Thoth with the mobility advantage. Night tries to come in with a collar and elbow tie-up, but Thoth, not ready to come into a direct conflict at this early juncture, puts his head down and pivots out of the way, putting himself at the side of his attacker. He aims a boot at Dace Night's left ankle, trying to bring the stronger man down to a level where upper body strength won't be of any use to him... but the boot does nothing but upset Dace Night, who whirls around and catches Thoth in the chops with the back of his left hand. Thoth falls back, staggering more from the unexpected shock of the blow than its impact. Yet, that is enough to create the opening Dace is going to use to begin his offensive assault. He grabs Thoth's free arm, which is flailing from the impact, and whips Thoth hard into the corner. He approaches cautiously, but confidently, grabbing the second rope with each hand, and leaning in, driving his shoulder deep into Thoth's stomach. Once, twice, three times, and a fourth, before backing up, and yanking Thoth forward out of the turnbuckle, who goes down to all fours, breathing heavily. With a nudge of the top of his foot, Dace Night rolls Thoth onto his back, and goes for a cover; Thoth kicks out at 2. "Early pin attempt by Dace Night, who is quite dominant at the get-go here," says Mak, who is quickly overshadowed by the salient enthusiasm of Suicide King. "Hah! I love it! If Thoth wants to enter this tournament through the back door, he can take it up the back door!" Dace picks Thoth up by his hair, and gets behind him, bending over and grasping a waistlock. He lifts, and drops Thoth right on the top of back, just below his neck; Thoth has the werewithal to tuck his neck in, avoiding a potentially catastrophic injury. Dace starts to go for another cover, but Thoth has rolled under the bottom rope to the outside of the ring. Thoth finds his legs, and stumbles toward his backup, Nathaniel Kibagami. Dace starts to approach, but halts his step. "Dace Night is a little adverse to approaching Nathaniel Kibagami... he's very much a loose cannon. Half the time he's as high as a kite, and the other half, he's as dangerous as he ever used to be." "The question being, which half has shown up tonight." Thoth catches his breath and his bearings within the protective radius of Nathaniel Kibagami. The referee has been counting all this time, and he is now up to six, before Thoth slides back in under the bottom rope. Not before, of course, commanding the referee to give him some space, such that he can enter without worrying about a charge from Dace Night. He gets to his feet, and Dace already goes back in for a lockup. Thoth tries to dodge again, but Dace is already spinning his hand around to catch the former Balancer; but Thoth ducks, and drives his forearm into the small of the back. Instead of waiting for Dace to react to the below, the throws more forearms with reckless abandon, trying to pound the lumbar into mush. Dace bends down, and Thoth sees a target, grasping the neck of his foe and driving it to the canvas in a bulldog! Not a moment later, Thoth starts laying the boots in, trying to make the most of the opportunity. Thoth backs off, eyeing his opponent... waiting for something. As he starts to stir, Thoth rebounds off the ropes, and with the proverbial head full of steam, drives his knee into the back of Dace's head. As he sinks back into the canvas, Thoth greedily hooks a leg, and the ref's hand starts to slap the mat for the count... as it hits twice, something is awoken inside Dace Night's eyes; they fly open, and with all his power, he hurls Thoth off of him to the roar of the crowd! Thoth gets up first, but the power of Dace Night is too much to handle, especially when he hunkers down, concentrating all of his strength tightly. Thoth is swept down as Dace Night crashes into his legs, dropping Thoth straight onto his back. Dace scampers up the body of Thoth, and starts throwing some closed fists. Nathaniel Kibagami starts screaming up a storm as the referee is a little slow to act. Remember, closed fists aren't legal in a match. Yeah, seriously, right? Like anyone ever pays attention to that. It's that attitude, actually, that causes referees to be quite lax in enforcing the closed fist rule, kind of an unspoken tradition, if you will. But eventually, of course, Dace Night, relents, leaving a suddenly-weary Thoth to roll around on the canvas. Kibagami calls out, but gets no reply. Dace grins as he pulls Thoth up once again by his dark hair. His teeth glisten for just a split second. A whip to the ropes, and Thoth is helpless as he runs into the waiting arms of his opponent, who lifts him up and rotates his body in midair for a wicked powerslam, with impact! Dace Night holds his position, and hooks the leg for the cover. The referee counts... one! ...two! ...but Thoth kicks his leg and lifts his shoulder at the same time; the pinfall is broken. Not deterred in the least though, is Dace Night. The punishment, the pain, is just beginning. Thoth is brought to his feet once more, more slowly now, and pushed into the corner. Dace relishes the fact that he can take his time, without reproach or punishment from the former Balancer. He leans Thoth back against the buckle, and drives a heavy, open hand across the bare chest in front of him. Thoth stumbles forward, but before he can collapse, Dace Night grabs an arm and whips him to the other buckle... Thoth reverses! Thoth musters his strength and plants his feet, reversing the Irish whip and sending Dace into the corner instead! Thoth takes a moment, and breathes, before charging, getting halfway to the corner, but at that moment, Dace raises a boot, intending to catch Thoth in the chops. "Thoth has stopped!" shouts Mak. Indeed, Thoth, seeing this turn of events occur before it has happened, has stopped all movement in the middle of the ring, shy of the range of Dace's leg. As he stands, Thoth stoops, drops his shoulders, and flips the bird. The crowd boos and jeers, egging Dace on to get his pound of flesh- As if he weren't already. Dace Night charges out, ready to take Thoth out, but Thoth drops to his belly, snaring Dace in a drop toe hold, and bringing him to the mat. "Dace Night has more power than Thoth has in that somewhat compact frame of his... he's built like a bulldog. Thoth can keep him grounded temporarily, but Dace will power out of it unless Thoth utilizes a constant, mobile leverage advantage. Before his hiatus, Thoth was a competent mat wrestler. Does he still have what it takes?" Thoth starts with a front chancery, floating around from Dace's legs to his neck. He cinches it in, and brings his knees in close. He starts to drive his knees into Dace's face, trying to deliver stopping power with each one, but without the right extension, it's about as effective as rubbing a stuffed animal filled with rocks over the bridge of someone's nose. Try it. Before Dace can mount a comeback, Thoth moves the focus of his offense to an arm, trying to grab an armbar, or restrict the motion of the arm. Make Dace focus on what he is doing to his arm. It doesn't help that Thoth's head and neck are pulsing with pain; every time his heart beats, he feels what Dace, and his head-focused offense is doing to him. That, and Kibagami's incessant screaming. Soon enough, Dace will recover from this. Thoth shifts his body weight to place himself on top of the back of Dace Night. In a quick, practiced motion, he spins around, snatches the leg of Dace, and hooks it under his other leg. It's a Texas Cloverleaf. "Thoth is cinching back on that Texas Cloverleaf! How long can he hold Dace Night?" pontificates Mak Francis, as Thoth bellows, trying to push it farther than he can manage. Dace starts to fight, and struggle to get to his feet. Thoth holds on, but the aforementioned bulldog manages to straighten his legs, and kick Thoth off of him. Thoth gets to his feet, and sees Dace. He hooks the neck again, and Dace, thinking Thoth is looking for another bulldog, plants his feet, trying to prevent forward motion. That's not what Thoth's looking for though, as he twists the neck around, looking for the neckbreaker. Dace's planted feet actually work against him, increasing the torque Thoth is able to apply before dropping Dace down to the mat. There's a cover... one... two... but Dace kicks out. Thoth has the advantage now, and he lays in the boots while Dace covers up, and tries to get back to his feet. Thoth tries to stomp harder and meaner, but Dace fights up to his feet. Thoth is now throwing forearms into the face of Dace Night, but it’s about as effective as forearming a brick wall. In no time, Dace has hooked a suplex, and brings Thoth up, up, up and over, crashing into the mat. “Every time Thoth actually tries to mount some offense, Dace Night summons his power and endurance, and simply brute forces his comeback. What can Thoth hope to do?” “I would say,” surmises King, “Wear him down, wear him down. If it seems hopeless, it just means that Dace Night has just done a very good job in building an illusion of invincibility. I can assure you that both of those men in the ring are human. Three, counting the referee.” “What about Nathaniel Kibagami, King?” “Who knows what the hell he is. Some kind of chicken, maybe?” Nathaniel Kibagami, indeed is walking like he has some kind of… problem. I guess. He has a lot of problems. Dace Night doesn’t care, though, he only has one problem, and it’s in that ring. Dace Night hooks Thoth for another suplex and hoists him up, but instead of taking him over, he holds him vertically in midair. He takes a couple steps in a circle, parading his catch around the ring… before a sudden, steep drop spikes Thoth’s head into the canvas! “Wow, what a brainbuster!” “Mak, the correct pronounciation is brainbustahhhhhhhh.” The Suicide King does not shout this particular syllable; he remains calm. Dace Night goes for the cover… And he goes for the cover… There’s supposed to be a pinfall, right? But the referee is nowhere to be found! It looks like Nathaniel Kibagami has pulled the referee out of the ring! The ref hits hard onto the mat, and appears to be out. Dace Night, like a man possessed by the devil, rushes with incredible speed to the ropes, ready to get his hands on Nathaniel Kibagami. Basic physics teaches us that mass times velocity equals force. Thus, the faster Dace Night moves, the more force is generated from any interaction with matter. Specifically, Dace Night has an interaction with a cane that Kibagami wields that smacks him across the face. Dace goes down from this force, and now both men are down. Thoth is still scrambled from the brainbuster, but starts to stir, crawling on his elbows and forearms, dragging his dead weight with him. Kibagami is rolling the referee back in the ring now, who doesn’t seem to have any idea of what is going on, but he sees a man covering another man for the pinfall. As fast as he can bring his arm to the canvas, he counts one… two… three?! Yes indeed, the bell rings as Funyon taks up the microphone. "Here is your winner of this Cold Front Classic match… Thoth!" announces Funyon. Stan Bush starts to play as the crowd does not like what it has just seen. Their ire is palpable. If it were to have a color, it would be oily black. "Come on! God! Is that how Thoth is going to win all his matches?" "It would seem that way, King. Having Nathaniel Kibagami at his side is one hell of an equalizer." "Hey, you know me, I know a thing or two about equalizers," says the Suicide King, perhaps referring to the Ace of Clubs, "But it's the same thing, over and over again! At some point, you have to learn how to wrestle! And why the hell didn’t the referee call for the DQ? Where’s his head at?” “I guess the referee had no idea what was going on,” said Mak, “And just like wrestlers have instincts, such as kicking out of pins, referees have instincts to count them. It’s a tainted win if there ever was a tainted win.” Regardless of the valor shown in the contest, Thoth raises his arm triumphantly, though the rest of his body may not be as apt, having been scrambled from the vicious brainbuster delivered not too long ago. Nathaniel Kibagami does the rest, hooting like Steve Ballmer at a developer's conference. Dace is getting up, pulling on the ropes as he watches Thoth escape up the ramp. His grit teeth and intense stare say more than words could. It is also a reminder that this style of fighting and this arrogance surrounding these cheap wins is going to make a number of enemies. The day may come, not far from now, when an unsuspecting former Clan member gets his head rearranged permanently, but for now, the winner and the loser of the match have been decided.

Backstage at the Times Union Center, about five minutes before the opening match "Are you sure about this?" Landon Maddix asks, for the fifth time. "No," Toxxic admits, for the third time. He was sure at first, but Landon's been grinding that assurance down with his incessant questioning which is, to be fair, warranted, "I'm not. But I am sure I'd rather have this than see Dace get a bye into the semi-finals." "Why, because you still have beef with him from, what, four years ago?" Maddix asks. "No, because he's had two singles matches in the last year and has won both of them in under a minute. But they were against total losers, and I don't want him blowing up and dying in a semi," the Straight-Edge Sensation says, reasonably enough. "If he can beat his opponent tonight, then fair enough. But I don't want the Dacimate Warrior who comes to the ring, hits two moves and then collapses from exhaustion in a semi-final of a tournament to get a Number One Contender to the World Heavyweight Title. Because that would be embarrassing." "Not as embarrassing as the entrance music we're about to get," Landon grumbles, prompting Toxxic to turn towards him in disbelief. "Landon, we came out to 'Hollaback Girl' once, which was off your iPod. You cannot talk..."

My parents never really saw anything in it but indulged me by buying me wrestling figures etc, and not complaining that I spent my pocket money on sticker albums and so on (my parents' attitudes, my dad's especially was always 'it's your money now, spend it on what you want, just make sure that it IS what you want'). I remember one year I got a birthday cake in the shape of a wrestling ring with the Undertaker and Hulk Hogan figures standing in it. I do remember that my dad found the fact that Undertaker's manager was called Paul Bearer hilarious, but then he's always been a master of appalling puns and was probably very amused that someone had got such an awful pun onto the international stage (needless to say, he didn't explain why he found it so funny and it wasn't until several years later that I got the joke). I was also allowed to record and watch WCW from Saturday night (although that may have been partially swung by the fact that my grandparents would watch it with me on Sunday afternoon. To this day I don't know whether they thought it was real or not). When I got back into wrestling at the age of 18 in 2000 my parents were rather bemused, but since I was spending most of my time at University by then the matter hasn't really come up, apart from the wrestling video games that lie around when I would go home in the holidays.