Ace309

"Ladies and gentlemen," Funyon booms, "the following tag team contest is scheduled for one fall, and is for the SWF Tag Team Titles!" "YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" "Yes folks," Mak Francis confirms as 'Party To Damascus' by Wyclef Jean starts up and the crowd's positive response increases, "we've reached the second of our three title matches on tonight's edition of Storm! Still to come we have Gabriel Drake defending the World Title against International Champion Alan Clark, but first up it's-" "Two morons taking on another moron and the guy Clark beat last week," King cuts in, "let's not dress this up, Mak." "And they tell me ratings are down," Francis sighs. However, despite the bickering of the commentary team the fans in attendance are showing their appreciation as two familiar figures make their way out onto the entrance ramp; one with his thin braids bouncing as he hops from foot to foot, warming up, and the other with his hair slicked back and grinning at the ladies in the crowd. "Introducing first, the challengers;" Funyon announces, "they weigh in at a combined weight of 442lbs and are four-time former Tag Team Champions... WIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIILD... AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNND... DAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNNNNNNN-GEROUSSSSSSSSSSSS!!" "YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Wildchild and Johnny run down to the ring, the Barracuda opting to dive straight under the ropes into the squared circle while Wildchild makes a full circuit, slapping hands with the fans as he goes, then leaps in over the bottom rop and rolls up to his feet. Once inside the Bahaman undoes his Cruiserweight Title and hands it over to referee Ronald 'Red' Herrington, then performs a few more stretches for the benefit of his already-limber frame. "Wild & Dangerous have held the tag team belts more times than any other team," Mak Francis points out, "and have held the belts for a longer time in total than anyone else... but they do not hold the record for the longest Tag Title reign anymore. That record belongs to the defending champions, but you can bet that Wildchild and Johnny Dangerous want to take their first step on the road to beating that record tonight!" "Mak, I'm conflicted here," King moans, "I can't stand these two, but I can't stand their opponents either... well, Toxxic's a bit better than Maddix, but he just lost to the Disney freak, how can I take him seriously now?" "You could try calling it objectively," Francis suggests, but without much hope. "I always do," the Gambling Man sniffs, "the object being to make fun of anyone I don't like." It's at this point that the commentary duo are interrupted by a bouncing bassline straight out of the 80s. But not just any part of the 80s, oh no... no, from the part of the 80s that dealt with children's cartoons. Because what comes thumping out of the speakers, magnified beyond all normal volumes, is the theme tune from the closing credits of The Raccoons! 'When darkness falls Leaving shadows in the night Don't be afraid And wipe that fear from your eyes...' "Peters' iPod shuffled onto this?" Mak asks in surprise, looking up. "Figures, the guy's immature enough," King shrugs. 'When desperate lo-ove Keeps on driving you wrong Don't be afraid You're not alone…' "Don't be Cyril Sneer, King," Mak chides his commentary partner. 'You can run with us! We've got everything you nee-ee-eed! Run with us! We are free!' …and as the chorus hits, out come the reigning champions! Landon Maddix, flanked by Megan Skye and flipping his hair back from his forehead, seems in good spirits with his belt around his waist. However, his tag team partner doesn't seem in such sunny spirits; Michael Stephens, with his sister in tow, is scowling as he strides down towards the ring and not even the happy memories of the childhood cartoon seem to be able to turn that around. "And their opponents," Funyon booms, "at a combined weight of 426lbs; they are the reigning and defending SWF Tag Team Champions… THAAAA… GA-LAC-TICOOOOOSSSSSSS!!" "YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" 'Come with us! I see passion in your ey-e-e-s! Run with us!' Maddix hops up to the apron then, with Megan holding the ropes, twirls into the ring like the showman that he is. Meanwhile Amy doesn't bother even approaching the ring, instead sitting on a chair and cracking open her can of Stella Artois while her brother slides into the ring, pulls off his trenchcoat like it's offended him and slings it back over the ropes before undoing his title belt and tossing it to the referee. "Michael Stephens… doesn't look happy," Mak notes. "Can you blame him?" King asks, "he just lost his record of winning in any title match in which he was the challenger… and more importantly, he lost to the Disney freak, Alan Clark. Guess it brings back memories of the early days." Red Herrington takes the Tag Titles and shows them to all four corners of the arena, then motions that he's ready for the match to start. Johnny instantly steps out to the apron, leaving Wildchild in to start the match for their team; meanwhile Landon and the sullen Stephens play a quick game of rock, paper, scissors. Landon scores by wrapping Stephens' clenched fist (which he acts out with a grin), then turns to face the Bahaman. *DING-DING-DING!* "LET'S GO LAN-DON!" "LET'S GO DUB-CEE!" Landon grins at the fans as they chant his name; Wildchild isn't going to be distracted by the support and simply circles his opponent warily, then dashes in. Maddix is a split-second too slow on the reaction and Wildchild snares his unwary opponent by the arm, then brings him over with an armdrag! Maddix rolls up to his feet and returns the favour by armdragging Wildchild right back, but as WC goes for a reply of his own La Cucaracha steps back at the last second and Wildchild just falls to the canvas, snatching at thin air! "LET'S GO LAN-DON!" Maddix laughs, turning away and tapping his forehead to indicate to his loving fans just how smart he is… which apparently isn't very, as he ignores Wildchild long enough for the Human Hurricane to kip up and armdrag him as he turns around again! "YEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" "LET'S GO DUB-CEE!" Wildchild is quicker up that Landon and follows in with a punch to Maddix's jaw; not very hard, but hard enough to throw the defending champion off for a moment before Wildchild Irish whips him across the ring, then throws himself down towards Landon's feet. Landon easily hurdles the Bahaman as he rebounds off the ropes, but when he hits and returns off the far cables his reactions aren't up to dodging the dropkick that Wildchild has leapt up to deliver! *SMACK!* Wildchild pops back up to his feet and now takes half a second to acknowledge the fans' support. Maddix has his own way of dealing with current events; namely, rolling to the corner where Michael Stephens is waiting and reaching up to tag in his partner. Stephens grabs the top rope in both hands and vaults lightly into the ring, then cracks his neck from side-to-side. "LET'S GO DUB-CEE!" "TOXXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…" The warring chants ring around the University of Victoria as Wildchild's dark eyes lock with the steel-grey ones of his English opponent. The two men spiral in towards each other, each looking for an opening; Wildchild makes a grab for his opponent's arm, perhaps looking for another armdrag, but Stephens pulls back to avoid it and for his part Dub-Cee manages to avoid falling down this time. With his opponent wise to this approach Wildchild seems to resign himself to a more conventional way of opening things and the two cautiously approach each other with their arms raised for a collar-and-elbow tie-up. They come together, but rather than trying to work what might be a slight strength advantage Stephens twists out and behind his opponent with a hammerlock, then slaps Wildchild in the back of the head to push him away! "OOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHH…!" "Hey!" Mak says as Wildchild looks around, disbelief on his face, "did he just do that?" "Nice," King says, "these morons cheered when he did it to Clark, but do you hear any cheers now Francis?" Wildchild just looks at Stephens, astounded that he's just been treated in such a disrespectful manner by his opponent; Stephens just stands there in a manner that might be interpreted as insolent, a bored expression on his face, then twitches a couple of black-nailed fingers to invite Wildchild to get on with it. The Bahaman's face settles into a stony expression and he advances again, the two men locking up once more- 'Oof!' -but this time Stephens simply slams his knee up into Wildchild's gut, then- *WHAM!* -delivers a European uppercut that flattens his opponent! "LET'S GO DUB-CEE!" Stephens reaches down and grabs Wildchild, then hauls the Bahaman to his feet; to be fair Wildchild was getting there under his own steam, but somewhere he certainly wasn't intending to get to was the steel ringpost - however, Michael Stephens sends him there at full-speed, and shoulder-first at that! *CRACK!* "I heard that!" Mak Francis shouts, "and that's the same shoulder that kept Wildchild away from the SWF after Mike Van Siclen damaged it! Stephens isn't pulling any punches in the early going here!" 'C'mon Nic!' Johnny shouts from the apron. Whether or not he's expecting an immediate reaction from his tag partner is unclear; however, he gets an immediate reaction from his opponent! 'Shut yer mouth, sunshine!' Stephens snaps, loud enough to be heard by the ring mics and rounding on Johnny to point at him. Dangerous's eyebrows raise in surprise at this aggressive behaviour from the man who's been - for him - fairly restrained and polite for the last several months. "Well, Johnny Dangerous and Michael Stephens have never really seen eye-to-eye," Mak Francis notes, "not since they traded World Title wins in 2004..." Stephens takes hold of WC's tights and pulls him back out from between the turnbuckles, then delivers a left hand that staggers Wildchild along the ring ropes to roughly the middle. With his opponent handily repositioned Mike grabs the Bahaman's wrist and Irish whips him across the ring; Wildchild rebounds off the far ropes as planned, but he ducks the spinning wheel kick that Stephens aims and him and continues on to the cables he started from! Stephens manages to keep his balance and lands on his feet, but he's not quick enough to then dodge the leg lariat that Wildchild launches at him, catching him on the throat and toppling him backwards to the mat! "LET'S GO DUB-CEE!" Wildchild gets back up to his feet almost immediately (although he rubs at his shoulder briefly), but instead of following up himself he shows the sort of awareness that made him and Johnny four-time champions and tags his completely fresh partner into the match. "LET'S GO JOHN-NY!" "LET'S GO JOHN-NY!" Michael Stephens gets back up to his feet as Dangerous steps into the ring, but that doesn't worry Johnny at all; however, instead of initiating any offensive moves the Barracuda simply marches up to his longtime opponent and demands what the hell Stephens thought he was doing with Wildchild! Stephens is rarely in any mood to explain himself, least of all now, and he proceeds to tell Johnny exactly what he can do with himself… which is more than Dangerous can take, and he shoves Stephens in the chest! "YEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!" Stephens is knocked back a step, but he simply lashes out and catches the Secret Agent a ringing open-handed slap on the jaw! *SMACK!* "YEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!" Johnny grabs at his jaw, but his eyes narrow and with the hostilities well and truly opened he fires a kick directed at the Englishman's ribs… but Stephens catches it, then deftly hooks his right leg behind Johnny's left and hooks it away to dump the Barracuda down to the mat! Johnny tries an upwards kick to catch Stephens off-guard but the Tag Champion isn't trying to get down into a mount position, instead taking hold of the leg he still has trapped under his left arm and hauling Dangerous backwards across the ring towards the Galacticos' corner where he reaches out to tag Landon Maddix. Johnny is dragged into position as Landon grabs the top rope then leaps up… …twists in midair to come down onto the second rope inside the ring… …and backflips off to land on Johnny with an inch-perfect quebrada! *BANG!* Herrington dives for a count as Stephens steps out through the ropes… ONE! TWO!! …but Johnny kicks out well before three, winded but nowhere near defeated! Maddix reckons he has the answer to that however, and he pulls Johnny up to a sitting position by his head, then drives a stiff kick into the base of his opponent's spine! *CRACK!* Johnny's face twists into contours of agony as the blow lands, but Landon isn't done and La Cucaracha fires off another Dragon Kick- *CRACK!* -before taking Johnny's head in both hands and somersaulting over the Barracuda from behind, pulling him down into a painful neck snap! "LET'S GO LAN-DON!" "LET'S GO JOHN-NY!" Johnny whiplashes back, then collapses sideways clutching at his neck. Landon gets to his feet, waves at his fans, then starts to pull Dangerous up again. He twists in an armwringer on the luckless Vegas native, then reaches out to tag Michael Stephens. The Englishman starts to climb to the top rope and Landon kicks Johnny in the gut to double him over before stepping over the trapped arm. Stephens nods to signal that he's ready and Landon kicks back and up to take the bent-over Dangerous in the face with the ¡Buenas Noches!, then Stephens comes off the top rope with a somersault double stomp onto the Barracuda! *WHAM!* Johnny doubles up and clutches at his ribs, but Stephens doesn't give him any chance to recuperate and instead drops down to make a cover, ensuring to hook the leg as he does so. Red Herrington obliges and starts the count… ONE! TWO!! …but Johnny kicks out again! Stephens doesn't seem that bothered by his opponent's resilience however and takes hold of Johnny's head to haul the Barracuda back to his feet, then traps Dangerous in a front facelock. "It looks like Stephens might be about to try and wrap up some Unfinished Business…" Mak comments as the Englishman extends his right arm out to the side, but as Stephens whips the arm around and down Johnny manages to pull back a fraction, then tucks his head under Stephens' left arm and hoists upwards as the champion's off-balance… "MI Slam!" Mak shouts… …but he's wrong, as Stephens recovers himself in time to counter into an armdrag! "LET'S GO JOHN-NY!" "TOXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…" Johnny goes tumbling across the ring but the Barracuda is back up in a second, determined not to let his chance slip away. He has to go down again a moment later, albeit only to duck a Stephens clothesline, but as Mike whirls around Dangerous catches him with a boot to the gut, then hooks his opponent into a front facelock. Before Stephens can react Johnny throws the Englishman's arm over his neck, then grabs the waist of Stephens' pants and hoists up… and over! *BANG!* The vertical suplex hits but Johnny doesn't release his hold, instead rolling his hips and pulling Stephens back to his feet. Mike tries to sandbag but Dangerous is determined and drags him up, then sets himself again… *BANG!* "Michael Stephens took three of these from Alan Clark a couple of weeks ago," Mak Francis reminds viewers, "he won that match, but can he manage the same here tonight?" "So Johnny's ripping off Clark?" King asks as Dangerous starts rolling back up to his feet for the third vertical, "yeah, that figures." Despite the Gambling Man's derision, Johnny Dangerous plants his feet to bring Michael Stephens over for the third suplex in the series- *BANG!* "YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!" -and gets a cheer from the crowd! Stephens lies on the mat clutching at his back and Johnny rolls to his corner where he tags his partner; Wildchild hops up to the top rope in one fluid motion before coming off with a fistdrop targeted right onto Stephens' forehead, then covers… ONE! TWO!! …but Stephens kicks out! "LET'S GO DUB-CEE!" "TOXXXXXXXXXXXX-IC…" Wildchild doesn't seem too distressed at the lack of a three-count, but the Bahaman seems eager to get some revenge on the man who roughed him up a little earlier and hauls Stephens back to his feet before hooking him into a front facelock. Then he gives Johnny a thumbs-up and throws Stephens' arm around his neck before grabbing the waist of his opponent's pants and lifting… "Oh no, don't say he's doing three as well," King groans. …but no, Wildchild just does the one - although he does spin around in about three-quarters of a circle first before dropping Stephens with the Corkscrew Suplex. With Stephens on his back again (and yes, we're talking about Mike, not Amy) Wildchild heads out to the ring apron. Red Herrington starts to make a count but Wildchild doesn't give him time to get very far, leaping to the top rope and springboarding off to land on Stephens with a senton splash- *WHAM!* -then hops up to his feet before instantly backflipping with a standing moonsault that sees him come down for the pin! ONE! TWO!! TH- -but Stephens kicks out! "LET'S GO DUB-CEE!" "LET'S GO DUB-CEE!" "The fans certainly behind Wildchild here tonight," Mak Francis remarks. "Behind him in what? College grades?" King snipes as the Human Hurricane opts to continue the quick-tagging strategy and gets Johnny back into the match. Wild & Dangerous bring Stephens up to his feet and Irish whip the winded Englishman into the ropes, then as he rebounds each snares him under one arm and brings him up and over with a double hiptoss! *BANG!* "Get that cheating bastard out of the ring!" King yells at Herrington, pointing at Wildchild who is, of course, no longer the legal man. However, the referee has no time to usher Bahamans as Johnny drops to make the cover on Michael Stephens… ONE! TWO!! TH- -but Stephens kicks out again! "I think Wild & Dangerous are getting closer to putting Michael Stephens's shoulder down to the mat for a three-count and taking his last title from him," Mak Francis comments, "and after the way he treated Wildchild early on, I think they'll enjoy doing it!" "Why couldn't Tom and Charlie come back to get these belts," King mutters, "I'm going to hate it whoever wins tonight!" Dangerous keeps with the theme and reaches out to tag Wildchild, prompting further gripes from King about illegal double-teams, then Irish whips Stephens across the ring. Wildchild runs for the opposite ropes as Johnny gets ready to hit the mat for a drop toehold into a WC knee lift, a move they've used many times before… …but as Wildchild hits the ropes Landon Maddix sidles along the apron far enough to drive a knee into the back of the unsuspecting Bahaman… …while Stephens leaps into the air, evading Johnny's trap and then nailing the staggering Wildchild with a huge flying front dropkick! "RAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGHHHHHHH!" "Denied!" King chortles, as the crowd seem half-appreciative of Stephens' athleticism, half-outraged at Landon's underhand tactics (but he was holding the tag rope!), "that'll teach the cheaters!" Johnny gets back to his feet and scrambles over to where Stephens has laid out his tag team partner… too fast, because Michael Stephens is ready for him! *whump-CRACK!* "Kip-up enzuigiri!" Mak shouts as Johnny collapses forward, "and Dangerous walked into that one!" Red Herrington tries to keep an eye on things, ready to usher Dangerous towards the outside of the ring when the Secret Agent recovers but also monitoring events between Stephens and Wildchild. The Englishman gets back to his feet (not without a wince, as the attacks of W&D have definitely left him feeling it and he's wondering if that kip-up was the wisest thing he's ever done) and grabs Wildchild, then hauls the winded Bahaman up and- *CRUNCH!* -delivers a stunning headbutt! "LET'S GO DUB-CEE!" Wildchild staggers but Stephens doesn't let up, slipping behind his opponent and grabbing the Caribbean Cruiserweight's braids, then using them jerk Wildchild's skull backwards into what is effectively an enzui-headbutt! *CRACK!* ("BOOOOOO…") And, very faintly, boos start to ring around the arena. If he hears them Stephens ignores them, instead walking over to the Galacticos' corner and reaching out to tag Landon Maddix. A groggy Johnny Dangerous has been ushered out of the ring by Herrington at this point, allowing Stephens to set Wildchild up as if for a Hangman's neckbreaker in the middle of the ring before twisting around and dropping to one knee, driving the Bahaman's face into the other with a modified Pressure Drop! Wildchild staggers and Stephens sprints past him for the far ropes, rebounding just as Landon enters the ring and starts running… *WHAM!* …and they take Wildchild out with a combined Cucaracha Kick and a soccer tackle from behind! "Professional Foul!" Mak shouts, "and just like that, Wildchild could be done for!" Landon Maddix certainly hopes so as he scrambles to get back in position and make the cover… ONE! TWO!! …but Wildchild kicks out! "YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" "LET'S GO DUB-CEE!" "LET'S GO DUB-CEE!" Stephens steps out of the ring while Landon takes a firm hold on Wildchild's braids and starts to haul the Bahaman up to his feet. However, Wildchild gets no further than a doubled-over position thanks to Landon's grip on the back of his head, and La Cucaracha starts firing off quick kicks to the face of the Cruiserweight Champion! *WHAP!* *WHAP!* *WHAP!* *WHAP!* *WHAP!* *WHAP!* *WHAP!* *WHAP!* *WHAP!* Wildchild doesn't even have a chance to fall down because Landon retains his grip and Irish whips his opponent into the turnbuckles; Wildchild hits hard but things don't get any better because Maddix follows him in with a flying forearm smash that knocks the Caribbean Cruiserweight down into a sitting position, slumped at the base of the corner pads. "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" "It certainly sounds like these Canadian fans have chosen their favourites," Mak Francis notes as Maddix backs away from Wildchild, seeming slightly surprised at his first hostile reaction in several months. However, Maddix wasn't backing off to appease the crowd - he was simply winding up for his next offering, that being the flying basement dropkick/bootscrape known as the Get Licked, which rearranges Wildchild's facial features and sees Landon fly through the ropes and end up standing on the arena floor! "LET'S GO DUB-CEE!" "LET'S GO DUB-CEE!" Not even Maddix's posing on the floor (with Stephens applauding him from the apron, of all things) can turn the fans back in favour of the Galacticos. However, the English half of the multi-national team spots Johnny Dangerous heading into the ring to try and rescue Wildchild from the neutral corner and shouts a warning; Maddix scrambles back into the ring to try and cut Johnny off, but only eats a Johnny Kick! *SMACK!* Maddix collapses backwards, but as Johnny reaches down to try and pull his tag team partner over to their corner he's grabbed from behind and spun around; not by an over-zealous Herrington, but by Michael Stephens who slaps a front facelock onto the Barracuda, then delivers the Unfinished Business! With Johnny stunned Stephens takes a page out of the Wild & Dangerous book and grabs Landon's foot, then unceremoniously tows La Cucaracha over to the Galacticos corner where he steps out of the ring again before tagging himself back in. "LET'S GO DUB-CEE!" "LET'S GO DUB-CEE!" Stephens instantly zeroes in on the hurting Bahaman, pulling him upright and placing him into a standing headscissors before applying a double underhook. The Suicide King might be hoping for something rather more devastating, but the reality is bad enough for Wildchild as Stephens hoists him UP... ...AROUND... ...AND... ...DOWN! *BANG!* "Stephens Shock Syndrome!" Mak shouts, "that could be it!" Mike makes the cover and Herrington drops to count... ONE! TWO!! TH- -but Johnny breaks up the pin! Herrington instantly herds the fuming Barracuda back out of the ring while Stephens shakes off the effects of the boot to the head, then glowers at Dangerous. Wildchild is still on his back so the Englishman heads for the nearest turnbuckles, vaults to the top and then jumps back off, twisting in the air to come down with a fist solidly planted into Wildchild's forehead! "A little revenge there for earlier, I fancy," King smirks. However, Stephens appears to be into the notion of payback with interest, and he rolls back up to his feet before heading back to the turnbuckles, where he repeats the performance for a second fistdrop! "LET'S GO DUB-CEE!" "LET'S GO DUB-CEE!" Stephens gets back up to his feet and shakes his fist out, then heads to his corner and tags in Landon - still slightly woozy from the Johnny Kick, but ready to get back into the fray. They hold a conversation for a few seconds before Stephens steps out to the aprond Maddix enters the ring to pick Wildchild up. In fact he literally picks Wildchild up, crouching down with the Bahaman face-up in front of him in an inverted wheelbarrow position while Michael Stephens climbs towards the top rope. "I don't think Wildchild should have had all that Malibu rum last night," King says gleefully. "Why?" Mak asks, suckered in. "Because he's about to have an Extremely Bad Hangover!" King chortles as Stephens comes off the top rope with the somersault legdrop known as, yes, the Hangover, and catches Wildchild across the throat! *BANG!* Stephens pops back up to his feet and faces Johnny, daring the Barracuda to try and get in an break this one up while Landon jacknifes forward into a pin, taking Wildchild's legs with him to stack the Bahaman onto his shoulders... ONE! TWO!! THHHHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR-NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! "YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" "LET'S GO DUB-CEE!" "LET'S GO DUB-CEE!" "What resilience from Wildchild!" Mak shouts as the Bahaman just squeezes one shoulder off the canvas, "he's still in this match, and keeping his title dream alive!" "Not for long!" King fires back, because Maddix and Stephens have converged once again and hoisted Wildchild back to his feet. Red Herrington's count is being ignored as they Irish whip Wildchild into the far ropes and duck their heads for a double backdrop... ...but Wildchild manages to simply place a palm on each of their backs, and rather than being tossed head-over-heels the Bahaman is instead elavated into the air towards the ropes. For most people without the agility of the Human Hurricane this would still be a problem, but Wildchild lands on the second rope and instantly springboards back off, twisting in mid-air... ...and takes both Galacticos down facefirst into the mat with a flipping neck snap! *WHAM!* "YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" "DOUBLE WHIPLASH!" The Franchise hollers, "I don't believe it! King have you ever seen such agility!?" "Die! Die with violence, spotmonkey!" the Gambling Man yells towards the ring. "...which of them were you talking to?" "THAT WAS AWE-SOME!" "THAT WAS AWE-SOME!" The fans are sounding their support for Wildchild, but the Bahaman Bomber seems unable to capitalise; despite the fact that both members of the Galacticos are clutching their faces, Wildchild has taken a beating and that could have been his last gasp. Sensing this, Johnny starts pounding on the top buckle and reaches out, trying to find some way of motivating his partner to get over there and make the vital tag. The crowd quickly joins in... "DUB-CEE!" "DUB-CEE!" "DUB-CEE!" Slowly, Wildchild starts to move. He tries to get to his feet, wobbles... ...Maddix reaches out towards his opponent's leg... ...and Wildchild snatches it out of reach by launching into a roll, then reaching out and just managing to tag in his partner! "YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" "Johnny Dangerous is back in the match," Mak Francis calls as the Barracuda launches himself into the ring, "and he's a house on fire here!" A joint adrenaline surge powers Maddix and Stephens to their feet as they realise that a fresh opponent has entered the ring, but Johnny simply knocks them back down again with a double clothesline! "JOHN-NY!" Maddix gets up first... and takes a spinning backfist that sends him sprawling to the mat! "JOHN-NY!" Stephens is up next, but simply eats a roundhouse kick that knocks him into the ropes! "JOHN-NY!" Maddix staggers back to his feet, but only long enough for Dangerous to kick him in the gut, then leap up and come down with a leg across the back of his neck for a Guillotine Face Driver! *WHAM!* "That was Wildchild's Caribbean Cutter!" Mak shouts, "and this match has turned right round!" Johnny rolls the groggy Landon over for the cover and hooks the leg... ONE! TWO!! THHHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR-NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! "THAT WAS THREE!" "THAT WAS THREE!" Johnny seems to agree from the expression he turns to Red Herrington, but the referee is adamant and Dangerous has to accept the verdict. However, he grabs Landon and hauls La Cucaracha upright, then tucks his head under Maddix's left arm and starts to lift for the MI Slam... but he forgot about Michael Stephens, who crashes into Johnny's shins with a soccer tackle to send the Barracuda toppling forward with Landon atop him! "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Referee Herrington seems about to usher Michael Stephens out but Johnny has his own ideas on how to deal with intrusive Englishmen, and fights his way out from under the groggy Maddix to grab Stephens and hurl him out between the top and middle ropes! "LET'S GO JOHN-NY!" With Mike out of the way Johnny heads over to his corner and reaches out to tag Wildchild; the Bahaman is still battered, but as Johnny points upwards he nods and starts to climb. Dangerous hauls Maddix up, then bends down and takes one-half of the defending champions up into an Electric Chair position... "They're setting up the Dangerous Drop," Mak shouts, "and if they hit this it's over!" Landon wobbles precariously atop Johnny as the Barracuda walks towards his corner, then turns around to face away from Wildchild. The Bahaman Bomber prepares to leap for the bulldog/electric chair drop combo... but something grabs his leg! "Hah! You can't get rid of the English that easily," King laughs as Michael Stephens anchors Wildchild in place, "just ask colonial Africa!" Meanwhile Johnny is wondering why Wildchild doesn't get on with it, but if he turns around to see what's going on just as his partner leaps then Dub-Cee will miss... and as Johnny's caught in an agony of indecision he suddenly gets caught in an agony of pain as Landon wakes up enough to reach down and gouge his eyes! 'Yarrggh!' Wildchild is trying to fight Stephens off but the Englishman has a firm grip, and with Johnny blinded Landon takes his chance and throws his weight forwards! "Victory Roll!" Mak shouts as Johnny finds himself taken over and his shoulders pinned down. Herrington leaps to count... ONE! TWO!! THHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! "YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Johnny just kicks out! Wildchild sighs in relief, but the moment of inattention costs him as Michael Stephens surges up the turnbuckles towards him and fires off a right hand, then grabs the Bahaman's head and launches another headbutt! *CRUNCH!* In the ring Johnny fires off a Shotei that catches Landon more by luck than judgement, then turns around still wiping at his streaming eyes to see where his partner is. He sees Wildchild and Stephens perched on the top buckle... ...he sees Dominic rock backwards as the headbutt hits... ...he sees Michael Stephens grin and clasp his hand around Wildchild's throat... ...and he sees the Englishman simply toss Wildchild off to the arena floor, some ten or twelve feet below. *WHAM!* "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" "What in the name of God!?" Mak Francis splutters. "Chokeslam to the outside! That's... that's how Stephens was eliminated from the Clusterfuck!" "TOXX-IC SUCKS!" "TOXX-IC SUCKS!" It's been a long time since that chant was heard in an SWF arena, but it's ringing out now. "Oh, do you think someone's got some issues with Janus? Maybe?" King laughs. Johnny just stands there, open-mouthed, not quite able to believe what he just saw. Then Michael Stephens turns around and looks at him, grinning that familiar lopsided grin, and he knows it's true. "TOXX-IC SUCKS!" ...then Landon Maddix reaches around him from behind and wrenches backwards, spinning the Barracuda around and in the same motion pulling him down into a modified Crash Landon '05! *BANG!* "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Maddix rolls Johnny onto his back and makes the cover, hooking the leg... ONE! ...Johnny struggles... TWO!! ...Landon's flailing hand catches a handful of tights and pulls... THHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! *DING-DING-DING!* "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" "Ladies and gentlemen, here are your winners," Funyon booms over the roars of anger, "and still SWF Tag Team Champions... THAAAA... GA-LAC-TICOOOOOSSSSSSSS!!" "Maddix steals one, and... what the hell just happened!?" Mak Francis demands, giving up on professional detachment as Michael Stephens hops down from the turnbuckle and slaps Landon on the back, then collects his belt from Herrington and heads towards the back. Maddix seems a little stunned by his partner's recent actions and casts a glance back towards where Wildchild lies with SWF techs clustered around him, then shrugs and rolls out of the ring. "Landon cheated," King notes clinically, "and Toxxic made sure Wildchild couldn't break up the pin. Good teamwork, although it pains me to say it." "Fans, we'll be right back," is all Mak Francis can manage. Maddix, Skye and the Stephens siblings make their way back up the ramp, while behind and around them a nearly-forgotten chant fills the air. "TOXX-IC SUCKS!" "TOXX-IC SUCKS!" "TOXX-IC SUCKS!" FADE OUT

Storm returns from a commercial for Ace Lezaire's Discount Narwhal Warehouse: "You want a cheap narwhal? Head to your local Ace Lezaire's Discount Narwhal Warehouse, with new stores opening in Topeka, Kansas; Barcelona, Spain; Ogden, Utah; Pretoria, South Africa; and Long Island, New York!", and liquored up camera man Jamie Drazon spins his machine around the arena, containing his vomit, and displaying Mak Francis and Suicide King. "Welcome back to Storm, live from Victoria, British Columbia, where we're about to see the first of three titles defended," Mak says. "I don't understand this, Mak. Victoria? That's a woman's name, so how in the hell can there be such violent action? This night should be nothing but whore contests, with me as the impartial judge," King says. "Well, regardless of your own contorted views, Jimmy the Doom is defending his Hardcore title against Zyon, and this should be a great contest. Both men have been rolling, though Jimmy did face a setback last week when he and former-adversary-turned-temporary-teammate Insane Luchador were beaten by the nigh-unstoppable Asia Underground. However, in the realm of singles competition, both men have gone quite some time since facing defeat," Mak says. "Are you done yet? The damn show is nearly over," King says. King is a bit off, as the arena blacks out, with the SmarkTron providing the only illumination. A trio of very familiar statements pulse on the giant screen: I'M BORN! I'M ALIVE! I BREATHE! The lights return in time with Incubus' "Vitamin" blaring over the speakers. After a few seconds to allow the song to really get going, Zyon appears on the stage, ladder at his side. "Ladies and gentlemen, the following match is scheduled for one fall in the Hardcore division with the title on the line! Introducing first, the challenger: He weighs in tonight at two hundred pounds even, and stands five feet, eleven inches. Hailing from Elkhart, Indiana, the Unique Youth, ZZZZZYYYYYYYYONNN!" Funyon roars. Young Zak Owens looks around the stadium, then tips his ladder over and jumps on top. Zyon slides down the ramp, and seconds before impact, he leaps, snaring the top rope. The Unique Youth vaults into the ring and springs onto the second turnbuckle, arms spread to better soak in the cacophony of cheers (And smattering of jeers). "It looks like Zyon has no qualms about this hardcore environment. I'm interested to see if he can use his tremendous speed to overpower Jimmy and his legendary toughness," Mak says. "I doubt it, Mak. If anything, a strong man would be able to wear Doom down, and that Straight-Bread idiot has survived the likes of Nemesis and The Crimson Skull," King points out. "True, but I can see Zyon possibly overwhelming Jimmy with rapid-fire attacks," Mak says. The lights dim yet again, and the sound of marching feet pounds through the arena, followed by chanting voices. "DOOM!" "DOOM!" "DOOM!" "DOOM!" "DOOM!" "DOOM!" Just as thousands of eyes begin to adjust to the darkness, the brilliantly bright lights snap back on. The ensuing temporary blindness prevents anything but the cameras to pick up Jimmy the Doom and Lois the Unethical's appearance at the top of the stage as "Yakety Sax", courtesy of Boots Randolph, blares. "And his opponent, being accompanied by Lois the Unethical: He stands six feet, five inches and weighs two hundred, thirty pounds. From Doomopolis, Doomtopia, he is the longest reigning Hardcore champion, the Straight-Bread Sensation, JJJJJIIIIIIMMMMMYYYYY THE DOOOOOOOOOOM!" Funyon booms. Doom saunters down the ramp, taking time to toss dinner rolls into the crowd while Lois keeps three paces behind her man. Jimmy empties his bread bag and walks around the ring, not wishing to clamber over the ladder. Zyon springs for the ropes as Doom squeezes past a particularly hefty druid, and the Unique Youth flies over the top and into Jimmy (Who, in turn, crashes into a fat man wearing a hooded cloak). GABARDINE! Referee Rockford McPunchington considers berating Zyon for starting before the bell, but decides there's no point in a hardcore match. Ding! Ding! Ding! "Zyon hit an excellent plancha, albeit before the bell," Mak says. "So? For one, it's a Hardcore title match, so who cares, and two, it was before the bell, so the match, which doesn't have any rules to begin with, hadn't even started," King says. Zyon scrambles to his feet and backs away from the champ, letting Jimmy rise on his own. The Straight-Breader stands up, and Zak knocks him backwards and over the guardrail with a front dropkick. Zyon kips up, races for the railing, and vaults on top. The Unique Youth steadies for a brief moment, then flings himself at Jimmy, snapping the champ into the ground with a neckbreaker. "Nice dropkick followed by a Blockbuster neckbreaker as Zyon takes this fight into the crowd," Mak says. "And being that this is Canada, there's no telling what kind of stuff these fans have," King says. "What, like moose antlers?" Mak asks. "No, more like small pox and polio," King replies. McPunchington exits the ring, but stays out of the crowd as he tries to remain close enough to call the match, but keep far enough back to be out of harm's way. Zyon pops to his feet and snatches a chair up from a fan. "You know, we really should think about using rows of seats that are bolted down like in every other sporting event," Mak says. "Yeah, but then we'd miss out on great stuff like what's surely about to happen to Jimmy the Doom," King says. The Unique Youth folds the chair in half with a snap, wheels around, and slams it into Doom's forehead. GADDER! Owens raises the chair and brings it down a second time, but Jimmy rolls out of the way. As reverberations pulse through his hands, Zyon drops the weapon and backpedals. The Straight-Breader clambers to his feet and nails his opponent with a shotei to the chest. Zyon shakes his hands loose and dips under a high kick aimed for his head. The Hardcore champ stalks the challenger, trying desperately to connect with jabs and palm thrusts, but Zyon bobs and weaves out of the way. Doom lunges forward with a wild right hook that Zyon easily avoids, and Jimmy pays the price in the form of a dropkick to the ribs. Zyon remains on his back and kicks at Doom's legs, trying to topple the Straight-Bread Sensation. Jimmy catches the Unique Youth's upkick and lashes out with a heel stomp to Zak's stomach. "That should take some wind of out Zyon's sails, and as any sailor knows, there's no speed without wind," Mak says. "Unless Zyon has a nuclear engine of some kind," King offers. "He's no Fallout," Mak says. "Yeah, anyway, Zyon was doing well by countering Jimmy's attacks with speed, but he fell into trouble by not scurrying away after that dropkick," King says. Doom lifts Zyon off the ground and whips him into the crowd barrier. Jimmy races for the wheezing youngster, and leaps, only to get blasted with a wheel kick. GALVANIC! "Just like you said, King, Zyon used his speed to counter Doom's flying snap kick with a beautiful spinning wheel kick," Mak says. "Exactly. It's just that easy when you're that fast," King says. "What are you talking about? You've never been thought of as a speedster," Mak says. "Quicker than you, Rampy," King says. Zyon pulls himself on top of the barrier and soars towards the Doomtopian, taking care to wrap himself in a ball for ease of delivery. Moments before impact, the Unique Youth uncurls and drives both knees into Jimmy's chest, remaining on top of the champ for a cover. Rockford quickly scrambles over the guardrail to count the pin. One! T-No! "Shoulder up from Jimmy after that Cannonball Kamikaze," Mak says. "I'm kind of shocked that Zyon was able to hit it at all. I figured Jimmy would be fresh enough to roll away," King says. "Well, a chairshot slows everyone, at least a little bit," Mak points out. Zyon thinks about pulling Doom up, but decides to ascend the barricade yet again, this time for a moonsault. Owens drops his paltry two hundred pound frame on the Straight-Bread Sensation, but opts out of another pinning predicament. Zyon gets to his feet and tracks down his dropped chair. The Unique Youth leans on the battered piece of furniture, waiting for Jimmy to rise. It doesn't take long for the champ to oblige the challenger, and Zyon races for the Doomtopian, chair held aloft. Zak hurls the chair at Jimmy and leaps seconds after, absolutely burying both feet in the Straight-Breader's gut and knocking him into the crowd barrier. The chair simply clatters to the floor, it's job as a decoy performed to the highest of Zyon's expectations. GALVANOMETER! "That was a great dropkick by Zyon, and very clever of him to fake with the chair," Mak says. "Perfect bait-and-switch, though it would have been nice if he could have beaned Jimmy with the chair as well," King says. The Unique Youth pops to his feet and retrieves the chair. Zyon pulls Jimmy into a proper sitting position and slams the chair into the champ's head. GAMIN! "Ooh! Absolutely sickening sound from that chairshot," Mak says. "Doom's head had nowhere to go, propped up against the barricade like that, and I'm no physicist, but I think that makes it hurt worse," King says. Zyon drags Doom away from the barrier and violently throws the chair down on the Straight-Bread Sensation's chest. GENUFLECT! The Unique Youth drops down on top of Jimmy and hooks his far leg. One! Two-No! "Doom gets the shoulder up again. He certainly is one tough man to put down," Mak says. "I attribute that entirely to his weirdness. Hell, he could read a monologue and use it as a submission move," King says. "Or at least distract an opponent with his garbled words so he can hit the guy with a badger or whatever the hell he'd use." With his options in the stands wearing thin, Zyon drags the champ to his feet and shoves him over the railing. Zyon springs over and smashes into Jimmy with an elbow drop to the back. The Unique Youth picks Doom up again and rolls him inside the ring before clambering onto the apron himself. Zak waits on the Straight-Breader, and as soon as he rises, Owens springs to the top rope and flies towards him. Zyon plants both legs on Doom's shoulders, but Jimmy plants both hands on Zak's neck, then plants the Indiana-native into the mat with a sit-out powerbomb. McPunchington slides into the ring to administer the count. One! Tw-No! "And Zyon kicks out after that Jimmy Bomb. He was very lucky, King, that his attempted hurricanrana didn't end any worse for him," Mak says. "Not that getting driven into the canvas from about seven feet in the air is good, of course," King says. Doom shoves the Unique Youth away and stands up, trying to devise a strategy to neutralize the speedy challenger. Jimmy hauls Zyon to his feet and pops him with a shotei to the jaw. The Doomtopian cracks Zyon with another palm before rocketing him into the ropes. Jimmy races after Zyon and leaps, knocking the smaller Youth down with a flying body scissors. Rather than wrap his arms around Zyon's chest to complete the illusion of a hug, Doom clamps on a head vice, confident that he can drain the challenger's energy in a matter of moments. "And now would be a good time for an extended commercial break," King says. "You know, I would really be interested to see how long it would take someone to submit to that little combination," Mak says. "The sun won't last long enough to find that out, Mak," King says. Rockford apparently isn't aware of the utter uselessness of Jimmy's hold, so he makes sure that Zyon is willing to continue the match. The Youth ignores the referee, and instead begins hammering Doom with punches. The Straight-Breader is reluctant to give up his hold, even as blows pepper his head and chest. "See, Mak? That thing Jimmy's using is about as useful as you owning roller skates. It's practically a hug! My grandmother can hug, and she sure as hell shouldn't be inside a wrestling ring," King says. "Perhaps, King, but the fact is that Zyon has yet to escape the modified hug, and he's expending a bit of energy in his attempt, so if nothing else, it's wearing the Unique Youth down a bit," Mak points out. "It's a fucking hug! Anybody that loses to a fucking hug needs to be fired and then killed," King says. Rockford checks on Zyon again, but the challenger is busy on a new escape plan. Using his slender build, the Unique Youth pushes against Doom's arms and manages to slip his head free of the vice. Now, Zyon is simply mounted, leaving him open to a stiff shotei, followed by a vicious headbutt. GEODETIC! Jimmy slides forward and tries to slip his right leg under Zyon's shoulders. However, even with his less-than-stellar submission skills, the Youth sees the triangle coming a mile away, and scrambles out from under Doom's legs. "Jimmy was going for a triangle choke, a move Zyon has been known to use, and that knowledge allowed the challenger to escape unscathed," Mak says. "From the choke, but not that headbutt. Another one of those and Zyon might have a broken nose in his future," King says. Doom allows Zyon to gain a vertical base before nailing him with a head kick. Jimmy fakes another head kick and plasters the Youth with an uppercut. Zyon staggers right into an Irish whip to the corner. The Doomtopian takes aim and sprints towards Zyon, slapping on a side headlock and dumping the challenger in the middle of the ring. "Jim-Me, phone home," Mak croaks. "Oh no, you don't get off that easy, Mak. You've gotta say the whole thing," King gloats. "Doom with that trademark 73.5267.1094Q80.16," Mak says. Jimmy yanks Zyon up by the hair and lays into him with a shotei to the jaw, then another to the chest. Doom grabs the Youth's right arm and twists it. "It looks like the end is nigh for Zyon, King. Jimmy might be going for Doomsday," Mak says. "He's got to hit it first, and we saw the problems he had with it against Insane Luchador a while back," King says. "True, but Zyon has only squared off against Doom once before, in the Lethal Lottery, to my recollection," Mak says. "Don't you ever speak that vile name! It is a curse, and by uttering its name, you give it power," King says. Jimmy stretches Zyon's arm as far as it can go before twisting around, but the Youth lunges forward, smashing a knee into Doom's chest. GEOSYNCLINE! "Ansatsuken Knee from the Unique Youth! Zyon couldn't quite reach Doom's head as it usually goes down, but he avoided that spinning back kick and appears to have escaped Doomsday," Mak says. "He's not out of danger yet, Mak. Jimmy can withstand a lot of punishment, and Zyon hasn't really shown that," King says. The challenger darts in, slaps on a cravat, and pulls Doom forward. The Straight-Bread Sensation snakes his arm up and jabs Zyon in the neck, stopping the Youth in his tracks. Jimmy slaps on an inverted facelock, snares Zak's leg, and drives the youngster into the mat. GERMINAL! "Zyon was so close to hitting the Big Shot, but a Hand of Doom put the kibosh on that. Now, Jimmy has regained control with a swift Doom Driver," Mak says. Jimmy slides around and makes a lateral press. One! Two! Thr-No! "Only a near fall for the champ. Zyon's got some fight left in him, but it doesn't look like he'll be able to survive for much longer," Mak says. "Perhaps, but Wes Davenport proved that the slightest mistake can result in defeat," King says. "I'm surprised he never won as a result of a sneeze or a blink," Mak says. The Doomtopian gets up and pulls Zyon to his feet as well. Jimmy nails him with a shotei, then whips Owens into the far ropes. Jim bounces off the adjacent ropes and grabs Zyon in a side waistlock. Doom switches to a rear, but his opponent throws on a cravat. The champ wrenches his head free and slings Zyon across the ring. "Zyon almost had the Big Shot again in the midst of that Jimmy-Plex, but Doom managed to free himself, and rather than bother with driving the Unique Youth into the mat, Jimmy simply tossed him down," Mak says. "Makes sense to not risk getting hit with another dangerous move when you're in control of the match," King says. Jimmy stretches for a moment before raising his right leg and hold his arms out to the side. "Yak Kick time. With such an obvious set-up, I doubt Doom will be able to hit it," Mak says. "He barely hits it even when he pulls it out of the blue," King says. Doom waits as Zyon picks himself off the canvas. Zak shakes his head clear and decides to humor Jimmy by running at the champ. As the Youth closes in, he lifts his leg and leaps, just as the Straight-Breader leaves his foot. Zyon smashes into the airborne Doomtopian's chest, knocking him down and out of the ring. GERONTOLOGIST! "As predicted, Jimmy was unable to hit the Yak kick, but Zyon nailed the champ with a lunging Yakuza kick," Mak says. "Not as good as say, Tom Flesher's, but decent enough for a little runt like Zyon. He did manage to send Doom out of the ring," King says. Zyon backs to the far ropes and runs towards the rising Doomtopian. The Youth grabs the top turnbuckle, but rather than vault over, he slides under the bottom strand, nailing Jimmy with a dropkick. GIMBAL! "Zyon with another nice fake. This time, he tricked Doom, as well as myself, into thinking he was going for a plancha, but instead just blasted Jimmy with a baseball slide dropkick," Mak says. "If he keeps this up, he might actually win," King says. The challenger pulls himself onto the apron, and climbs to the top turnbuckle. Without risking a backwards glance at the Straight-Bread Sensation, Zyon leaps, spinning around and landing on Doom. Zyon scrambles over and makes a lateral press. One! Two! Thre-No! "Zyon almost got the three count after No Regard, but Jimmy popped his shoulders up just in time," Mak says. "Maybe he should have went for the Final Flash instead, that's got a bit more pop to it," King says. Zyon gets up, pulls Doom off the ground, and whips him into the stairs. GIMCRACKERY! The Youth charges forward and slams into Doom with a front dropkick, dislodging the stairs from the ring. GLASNOST! Zyon drags the Straight-Breader away from the steps and towards the seemingly forgotten ladder. Zyon boots Jimmy in the gut, scoops him up, and drives the champ into the ladder. GLOSSOLALIA! "Aero Driver on a ladder from Zyon! That could very well win him the Hardcore title," Mak says. "And if it doesn't, then I think Zyon is screwed, since I don't know of anything else he could do," King says. The Unique Youth doesn't apply a cover, though. Instead, he pulls Doom off the ladder, and shoves it inside the ring. Zak looks under the ring and slides out a table. "It looks like Zyon's thought of something else he can do," Mak says. "Excellent. This is going to end badly for someone, and I'm not too concerned with who," King says. Zyon sets the table up and places a nearly unconscious Straight-Bread Sensation on top. The challenger pops Jimmy with a parting punch to the head, then climbs inside the ring. Zyon picks the ladder up and spreads its legs. The Youth climbs to the very top, blatantly ignoring the 'This is not a step' warning. Owens steadies himself, looks down at Jimmy, and then jumps. Zyon goes into a nosedive, then slowly turns to the proper attack angle. As the Unique Youth zeroes in on him, the champ rolls off the table, gladly taking a minor fall over having two hundred pounds slam into, and then drive him through the table to the floor. GORMANDIZE! "Jimmy moved, and Zyon might have just sealed his fate after missing the Final Flash!" Mak shouts. "Well, considering it was off a ladder that was inside the ring, and he went through a table outside the ring, I doubt Doom would be able to kick out after that," King says. Jimmy crawls up and drapes an arm across Zyon's chest as Rockford slides out to make the count. One! Two! Three! Ding! Ding! Ding! "Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of this match, and still Hardcore champion, the Straight-Bread Sensation, JJJJIIIIMMMMMYYYYY THE DOOOOOOOOOOM!" Funyon bellows. Lois the Unethical grabs the belt and walks to her husband, helping Doom to his feet. McPunchington raises Jimmy's arms as "Yakety Sax" plays again and the Panic Ogre wraps the title around the Straight-Breader's waist. "What an amazing match. Jimmy the Doom retains his belt in spectacular fashion once again, but the awesome force that is MANSON is bearing down on the champ," Mak says. "Don't lie, Mak. Doom didn't win this match, Zyon lost it. He probably could have got the three count after the Aero Driver, but he took a big risk and it came back to bite him," King says. "I concede that point to you, King, simply because I'd rather not argue when even more gold is set to be defended tonight. Two Skinny White Guys defend their Tag titles against the always-successful Wild and Dangerous, and then, the main event features Alan Clark challenging for Gabe Drake's World title," Mak says. "Would it be okay if I just took a bathroom break during the tag match? I don't want to sit through a match with four people I can't stand," King says. "Sorry, no dice. You've got to stick around or you won't get paid," Mak says. Officials check on Zyon's condition as Jimmy, with Lois' assistance, staggers up the ramp and Storm fades to a commercial for the Exploding Chicken/TNT two-pack DVD, "Cluck, Cluck, Bang, Bang!"

"Well, we're not going to waste any time," Mak says. "EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEVERYBODY KNOWS I'M IN OVER MY HEAD! OVER MY HEAD…" "Over My Head (Cable Car)" by the Fray hits the P.A. system, and "Cadillac" Calvin Szechstein and Zack Malibu stroll through the curtain, wearing their sunglasses at night! "They're wearing their sunglasses at night!" King says. "Can they do that?" "Corey Hart did it," Mak says with a sly grin. The crowd cheers, as Szechstein and Malibu enter the ring, and Funyon makes the announcement. ::DING DING DING:: "Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is a tag team match scheduled for ONE fall! Introducing first, already in the ring, at a combined weight of four-HUNDRED and three pounds, the team of "Cadillac" Calvin Szechstein and Zack Malibu… the CAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAADILLAC BOYS!" There's a small cheer, but "Protect Ya Neck" by the Wu-Tang Clan hits, and Akira Kaibatsu and Michael Cross come out, the team of Asia Underground all business tonight! "And their opponents, at a combined weight of five pounds, the team of Akira Kaibatsu and Michael Cross, AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASIA UNDERGROUND!" CROWD Cross and Kaibatsu settle down in their corner, with Kaibatsu stepping to the middle of the ring, his eyes on the Cadillac Boys corner. Malibu and Szechstein are eyeing each other uncomfortably, and Szechstein offers to start, stepping across from Akira. Calvin bends down and slaps the mat with both hands, popping back up and staring at Kaibatsu with a bit more ferocity than we've previously seen from the former OAOAST Champion. Kaibatsu, meanwhile, dances around the ring, the grace and effortless in his movements never more evident than right now. The two men circle, each of them looking for an opening—and then Calvin springs forward! Kaibatsu instinctively swings an arm out, but Calvin ducks it, going behind Akira and bringing him up and over with a quick German suplex! Calvin pops back to his feet, a smile on his face as he wags his finger at Kaibatsu, who licks his lips, grits his teeth and gets back to his feet. Szechstein and Kaibatsu circle once again, again both men looking for the opening, and again it's Calvin who springs first, again sprinting towards Kaibatsu! The Divine Wind casually dances to the side, sending Szechstein into the ropes, and as Calvin comes back Kaibatsu looks for the sidekick—but Calvin again sees it coming, and hits the mat, baseball sliding right into Kaibatsu's base leg and sending the young upstart tumbling to the mat! Calvin again springs back to his feet, his breathing a little heavier but a smile on his face as he looks down again at Kaibatsu, who once again grits his teeth and gets to his feet. The two men circle once more, again looking for the opening—but this time Kaibatsu easily heads to his corner, deciding instead to defer to Mike Cross! Cross climbs into the ring, eyeing Szechstein coldly. "The OAOAST team apparently did their homework tonight," Mak says, "and Asia Underground are switching things up to try and counter that!" "You can't argue with trying something a little different when your strategy isn't working," King says. "This is the right decision for Asia Underground…" Cross and Szechstein circle one another, again looking for the opening, but this time when Calvin springs forward Michael springs forward as well, and the two lock up, both men jockeying for position. Calvin wraps his arm around Mike's head and tightens the grip, keeping him trapped in a side headlock. Cross manages to push him off into the ropes, but when Mike drops his head in preparation for a back bodydrop, Calvin catches him off guard by snaring him with a side headlock once again! "Smart thinking by Szechstein, trying to make sure Asia Underground stay…well, grounded." "What, are you an OAOASTer now?" Calvin wrenches on Mike's head yet again, and Mike struggles to free himself. He grabs Calvin by the waist and lifts the pitchman off his feet, but as Calvin is lifted, he floats over Mike's shoulder and lands on his feet! Cross reacts quickly, spinning right around...and right into a right hand! A second shot sends him staggering back, and Calvin backs him into the ropes. Mike gets sent to the far side, and rebounds into a hiptoss...but Cross manages to roll with the move and land on his feet! Quickly, Iron Mike traps Calvin's arm and hiptosses him over, but before he can follow up, Szechstein bails out of the ring! "What's he gonna do now, shill some more swag while he's on the clock?" "Actually, I just think he's trying to cut Mike off before he can get going." "Smart kid." Calvin pauses for a few moments on the floor, and when Mike tries to follow Nick Soapdish tells him what's up, backing him away from the ropes. Szechstein hops back up on the apron and climbs back into the ring, and we're back at square one, as he and Cross circle each other again! They move towards each other, arms raised for a lockup...but Calvin delivers a kick to the stomach, and then fires off a pair of right hands, and then a chop that puts Mike against the ropes. Szechstein takes him by the arm and sends him across the ring, but when Mike bounces off the ropes, his partner taps him on the back in plain view of Soapdish, who allows the tag! "I know Soapdish saw it, but I don't think Szechstein did!" Calvin manages to throw Mike overhead with a back bodydrop, but as he disposes of the former Cruiserweight Champion, he lifts his head—and Kaibatsu springboards onto his shoulders, and snapping him over with a huracanrana! Calvin staggers to the ropes, clinging to them until he regains his balance, until he's sent over the top and to the floor thanks to a double clothesline from caucAsian duo! Szechstein hits the ringside floor hard, and Cross and Kaibatsu stare, full of piss and vinegar as they attempt to goad the veteran back into the ring. Calvin circles the ring calmly, and Malibu jumps to the floor, consoling his teammate who is not happy with the work of Asia Underground. Malibu talks shop with him, and they nod to each other before Calvin steps up on the apron, eyeing Kaibatsu before he steps back through the ropes. "Kaibatsu is back in the ring, and you can tell that this rapid tagging has Calvin a little disoriented!" Kaibatsu and Szechstein stare each other down, and the bold Akira charges forward, trying to take advantage of Calvin—but the wily Szechstein hits him with a drop toe hold, again sending the youngster to the canvas! Kaibatsu pops back up to his feet, hoping to catch the blown-up Szechstein off-guard… …but Calvin is wide awake, baby, and puts the top of his head underneath Kaibatsu's jaw, sitting out and driving Akira's jaw right into the top of his own head with a sitout jawbreaker! "Willy Wonka's World Famous Jawbreaker!" crows King. "What, are you an OAOASTer now, King?" "No, but, I mean… that's a nice move." Kaibatsu hits the mat, but Szechstein brings him right back to his feet, lifting the Asian to his feet and whipping him into a neutral corner. As he hits the turnbuckle, Calvin musters all of the speed he can and sprints forward, GETTIN' HIGH and catching Kaibatsu with a leaping kick to the face that snaps the young gun's neck back! Calvin grins, grabbing Kaibatsu and lifting him high into the air, in military press position! Malibu, holding a conveniently placed microphone, calls over the P.A.! "The following military press drop is brought to you by MUSIC AND LYRICS, the story of a washed-up teen idol and his young love interest, in theatres everywhere NOW!" *WHAM!* Calvin throws Kaibatsu down to the mat, and quickly makes the cover! "ONE!" "TWO!" KICKOUT! Kaibatsu kicks out, and Calvin, his breathing heavy from the effort of lifting Kaibatsu into the air, lets out a visible sigh before pushing himself back to his feet. "Calvin and Zack are doing what they can right now," Mak says. "Unfortunately… it's not too much." "They are keeping Kaibatsu in the ring, however," King says. "And that, you must admit, is what they need to do." "I don't have to admit anything, but okay, if you say so." Calvin grabs Kaibatsu once more, lifting the Asian to his feet and holding him there for a moment, not quite sure where to go from here. It's well-known that his knowledge of wrestling maneuvers isn't too extensive, and he's forced to resort to what he knows— *WHUMPH!* Elbow to the stomach! *WHUMPH!* And another! *WHUMPH!* *WHUMPH!* And then Calvin grabs Kaibatsu by the arm, lifting the former Cruiserweight champ onto his shoulders and holding him there momentarily, before nodding to the crowd and rolling forward, driving his shoulders into Kaibatsu's midsection! Calvin pops back to his feet, grinning as a chant begins to break out… "CAD—I—LLAC!" *clap clap clapclapclap* "CAD—I—LLAC!" *clap clap clapclapclap* Calvin looks around, a wide smile on his face as he points to the crowd, and the he runs to the ropes quickly, reaching out with an elbow and knocking a scowling Michael Cross straight to the concrete! "Cheap shot from Szechstein!" Mak says. "It didn't take long for Calvin to start being a dick again, did it?" As Cross collects himself in the corner, Kaibatsu slowly pulls himself to his feet—but Szechstein is right there to help him up! He grabs Kaibatsu in a side headlock (have you seen this before?) and brings him over to the Cadillac Boys' corner, throwing him into the turnbuckles before tagging in Zack Malibu! Calvin holds Kaibatsu in the corner as Malibu steps in, and the two of them strike up a conversation. "Hey, Zack, what do you like best about the new Subway sweet onion teriyaki?" "Well, Calvin, I like that it has more MEAT!" *CRACK!* An elbow to the midsection from Malibu! "Really, Zack? I like how it has less FAT!" *CRACK!* This time, an elbow to the face from Szechstein! "More MEAT!" *CRACK!* "Less FAT!" *CRACK!* "More MEAT!" *CRACK!* "Less FAT!" *CRACK!* "Okay, that's enough!" Soapdish steps in, forcing Szechstein out of the ring and saying "It's a FIVE SECOND rule!", but as Szechstein exits and grabs the tag rope… Malibu tags him right back in! "Clever teamwork from the Cadillac Boys," Mak says, "as they know Zack's limitations after his Syndicated match with Sly Sommers, and are adjusting accordingly!" "…mmmmmf." Szechstein steps back into the ring, and both he and Malibu pull Kaibatsu out of the corner, wrapping an arm each around Kaibatsu's head, placing him in a double front facelock before carrying him up and over, dropping him with a double suplex! Szechstein rolls him over onto his stomach, contemplating the pin as Malibu exits the ring, but Calvin then pulls Kaibatsu up and sends him running towards the ropes with a whip. As Kaibatsu bounces off, however, Cross makes the blind tag! Kaibatsu, knowing that he can rest here momentarily, slides under Calvin's legs, popping up behind him! Szechstein whirls around, looking to introduce Kaibatsu to a knuckle sandwich, but he instead gets shoved backwards—and trips over Michael Cross, who is on all fours! Calvin falls flat on his back, and Kaibatsu grins, placing one foot on Mike's back and leaping high into the air, extending his legs straight into Calvin's midsection with a picturesque dropkick! Calvin crumples in pain, and as Kaibatsu rolls out of the ring Cross makes the quick cover! "ONE!" "TWO!" "THREE—hold up!" Calvin has a foot on the ropes, much to Cross' chagrin, and Mike looks at referee Soapdish with a look that clearly says he's not too impressed. "Asia Underground using all the tricks in the book, and they're RIGHT back in control of this match!" King says. Cross is already on his feet, waiting for Szechstein to rise up. Calvin eyes Cross, suspicious of the former Cruiserweight champion as he steps to his feet, inviting Cross to bring on THE PAIN! Cross walks towards the pitchman, the two men coldly staring at each other—and then going back to square one, locking up collar-and-elbow style! Cross takes control, wrenching Calvin's left arm, and then hitting him with a stiff knife-edged chop that sends Calvin reeling! Cross senses blood, and stalks after Szechstein, this time catching him with a European uppercut that sends Calvin to the canvas! Cross pulls Szechstein to his feet, this time sending the former OAOAST Champion into the ropes, tucking his head as Calvin rebounds. Szechstein dodges whatever Cross had planned, flipping over Cross and landing on his feet! Cross stands up, turning around and looking for Calvin, who greets Cross with a kick to the stomach! Cross doubles over, affording Szechstein the time to run to the ropes, grabbing Cross' neck on the way back and snapping him to the mat with a swangin' neckbreaker! "Szechstein's showing a lot of poise tonight!" "He can't stay in the ring forever, King…" Szechstein grabs Cross in a front facelock, lifting the four-time tag team champion to his feet and pulling him high into the air, looking to drive him into the mat with a vertical suplex— NOPE! Cross lands on his feet behind Calvin, and drives Calvin towards the ropes, nearly driving him into Zack Malibu! Cross rolls back, holding Calvin in a rolling prawn hold, but Soapdish refuses to count the fall! Calvin lies in the pinfall like a dead fish, grinning, but as Cross' mental count reaches five he gets to his feet, prepared to bitch out Soapdish… …only to get put in a sleeperhold by Zack Malibu! Before Cross can even really fight out, Malibu lets out a mighty roar and sits out, driving the back of Cross' head into the canvas with the Trendsetter! "Trendsetter from Malibu! This could be game over!" Malibu climbs on top of Cross, looking for the pin! "ONE!" "TWO!" "THR—TWO COUNT!" Cross gets a shoulder up! Szechstein is already out of the ring, holding the tag rope, and Malibu quickly tags back out, allowing Szechstein to step into the ring and take over! "Interesting stuff from the Cadillac Boys tonight," says King, "allowing Calvin to work the bulk of the match, while Malibu steps in to drop the hammer every so often!" "Well, it's working so far," says Mak, "but can Calvin hold up?" Calvin grabs Cross and lifts him to his feet, grabbing him in an inverted facelock and quickly snapmaring Iron Mike over. With no hesitation, Calvin steps back and fires… *CRACK!* … and the sound of the kick to Cross' back resonates throughout the arena! Cross lurches forward, grabbing his back in pain, but he's pulled back to his feet by Szechstein, who quickly levels a forearm into Cross' face! Mike backs up a couple of steps, reeling from the blow, and Calvin follows it up with another forearm! And a third! And a fourth! Cross is at the ropes by this point, and Calvin quickly grabs him in a front facelock, bringing him up and over with a vertical suplex, floating over for the pin! "ONE!" "TWO!" "THRE—NO!" Cross kicks out with some authority, and Calvin gets to his feet once more, his energy beginning to fade but still very much in control of the match. "Calvin is all business tonight!" King says. "He came to wrestle and he is WRESTLING." Cross crawls towards his corner, trying to tag in Kaibatsu but falls JUST short, as Calvin, almost toying with Cross, grabs him by the back of the tights and pulls the youngin' back to his feet. Cross tries to turn around and catch Calvin off-guard, but there's no way that's happening, and Calvin makes sure of that by bringing his knee up and smashing it into Michael's stomach, doubling Cross over. Calvin quickly moves in for the kill again, driving a couple of quick knees into Cross' chest, doubling Iron Mike over. Calvin hits the mat, reaching up and slapping Cross in the face! Cross stands straight up, caught off-guard, and Calvin dashes behind him, hitting the ropes and coming back, grabbing Mike by the back of the head and leaping high into the air, driving Mike face-first into the mat! "Royal Crown Rattler!" King yells, "Szechstein is absolutely dominating right now!" "I… I really don't know what to say, King," Mak says. Cross gets to his feet, and Calvin is in a fury, hitting the ropes and looking to annihilate Cross with the big lariat—but before Calvin can even get to Cross, the youngster wisely falls back, tagging to Kaibatsu, who is already poised on the second rope! Szechstein doesn't realize what's about to happen until it's happening, as Kaibatsu springboards over the top rope and sits himself on Calvin's shoulders, whipping the pitchman over with vicious slingshot springboard hurricanrana! Kaibatsu quickly scrambles on top for the pin! "ONE!" "TWO!" "THREE—NO!" Calvin gets the shoulder up, and the crowd lets out a tentative cheer for the kickout. Kaibatsu gets to his feet, grabbing Szechstein by the hair and lifting him to his feet, trying to get in some offence to take advantage of Calvin's weakened state. "Kaibatsu with a move that involves springboards and slingshots and hurricanranas," Mak says, "and he's in a good position right now, fresh in the ring with a weakened Szechstein!" Kaibatsu steps back after pulling Calvin up, and unloads with a hard roundhouse kick to the stomach, doubling Calvin over. He then bounces off the ropes and snares Calvin’s head in a facelock before using the momentum to swing around, his feet leaving the canvas as he looks to spike Szechstein’s head with a jump swinging DDT! Calvin has other ideas, however, as he shoves the ragin’ Asian away from him…only for Kaibatsu to rush him once again, drilling him with a Yakuza Kick! “Hard shot to the shiller, and Szechstein is down again!” Kaibatsu moves towards his corner, making a tag to Cross, although he doesn’t leave the ring. Instead, he takes hold of the top rope, leaping up to the middle one, and then springboards backwards with a moonsault onto Szechstein. Cross, perched on the apron, waits for his partner to make impact before spring boarding into the ring from the top rope, crashing down onto Calvin Szechstein with a guillotine leg drop that sends the Cadillac Man into convulsions! “An aerial assault at its finest, and Szechstein is in a bad way right now!” Cross hooks a leg, and covers, while Soapdish dives to the canvas for the count. “ONE!” “TWO!” “THR-CRACK~!” The three count is broken up, as Michael Cross rears back, clutching his face after just having been nailed with a hard soccer kick from Zack Malibu! The intense competitor backs away after hitting the one shot that saves his team from defeat, but Akira isn’t happy with it, and charges, using a double leg takedown to get Malibu on his back! Akira struggles with his legs, but Zack kicks off, knocking Akira down so that he’s got a chance to get to his feet. Akira pops up and charges again, but this time Zack sidesteps him and, with the aid of his waistband, launches Akira through the ropes like a lawn dart, out to the floor! “That’s one way to clear a ring!” shouts Francis, as the crowd roars for the popular prep. Speaking of clearing rings, that’s exactly what Cross aims to do as he nails Malibu with a forearm shot from behind, knocking him through the ropes and back out to the apron. Cross mouths off to Malibu, telling him he’s not welcome in SWF rings…but his snide remarks are his undoing, as a recovered Calvin sneaks up behind him, using Rob Feinstein’s favorite wrestling manuever, the schoolboy, to bring him down! “ONE!” “TWO!” “THREE-NO!” KICKOUT! “Cross got caught off guard, but he wasn’t thrown off quite enough. Asia Underground escapes yet another pinning predicament, and these two teams are really cranking it up here tonight on Storm!” Cross recovers from the near fall, but as he approaches Calvin, he’s rocked with an inverted atomic drop, hard enough that Calvin stumbles back after delivering it! As he falls back, he sticks his arm out, and an eager Malibu tags him in, drawing a tremendous roar of cheers from the crowd! “Yawn.” remarks King, still unimpressed with the OAOAST’s favorite son. Malibu leaps into action, literally, as he jumps to the top rope and then off of it, catching the stunned Cross with a missle dropkick! Cross does a backwards roll, landing face first on the canvas, but it’s not for long, as Malibu brings him to his feet! Cross is dazed as Malibu delivers two hard open hand slaps, one to each side of his face, then spins around and cracks Cross in the cheekbone with a roaring elbow! Cross goes down, and Malibu turns around…ONLY TO GET CRACKED WITH A SUPERKICK FROM AKIRA~! “Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooh!” Malibu falls, then rolls to his feet, slowly getting up, his face red with anger. Akira, celebrating and taunting a crowd who fires back with curse words and one-finger salutes, doesn’t notice the former World Champion standing on his feet, until Szechstein points out that he just might want to turn around. CRACK~! SCHOOL’S OUT ON AKIRA KAIBATSU~! “Looks like Malibu had to show him how it’s done!” Akira once again topples through the ropes and out to the floor, victimized by the OAOAST poster boy’s patented super kick. Malibu, worked up now, backs away…but as Soapdish surveys the damage, he misses Cross coming from behind with a low blow on Malibu, and then rolling him over into a small package! ONE! TWO! WAIT! Calvin rushes in, and rolls their bodies over so that Malibu has Cross pinned! Soapdish starts to count, then realizes what’s just happened as soon as he counts to 1. He gets up and chastises Calvin, telling him to get out of the ring and not mess with the pinfalls. Calvin, trying hard not to laugh in the official’s face, playfully begs for mercy, while Cross kicks out of the “pinfall”. As they get to their feet, Malibu charges, hitting a running kick to HIS nether regions, and if you look out into the crowd, several fans leap to their feet, making the field goal motion. “It’s good!” shouts Francis, getting into the action, as King audibly groans into the mic. Cross staggers, but Malibu catches him before he falls, hoisting him upside down while cradling his leg… …and then SPIKING him with the POP DROP Fisherman’s Buster~! “ONE!” “TWO!” “THREE!” The bell sounds, and it’s over! Malibu gets to his feet, as an elated Calvin comes into the ring and hugs his partner, scooping him off his feet momentarily before the look on Zack’s face outright says “put me down”. “Your winners, the team of Zack Malibu and Calvin Szechstein, THE CADILLAAAAAAAAAC BOOOOOOOOOOYSSSS~!” Funyon’s announcement is music to everyone’s ears, as Malibu and Szechstein give each other their well-deserved props after having their hands raised by Nick Soapdish. “Like a rubber ball, they’re bouncing back. Some say their out of their element, some say that they’re not SWF material, but like it or not, the Cadillac Boys have just scored a big win here on Storm!” “One team rises, and another falls. Asia Underground is going to have to work their way from the ground up after this one, and the car salesman and the male model get a win. What kind of world is this, Francis? Is this what the SWF has become? Reliant on the leftovers of our low-rate competition?” “Leftovers? King, they’re former World Champions. In a month’s time, Zack could be there World Champion once again!” “Let’s hope so.” “King, I’m sorry, but did you actually just wish Zack Malibu good luck in his efforts to capture the OAOAST Championship once again?” “Damn right I did. It might be the one thing that keeps him off our show and out of my sight!” “King, you’re one of a kind.” A camera shot of Michael Cross and Akira Kaibatsu, helping each other to the back and looking extremely disgusted with tonight’s result flickers across the screen. We then cut over to the Cadillac Boys, raising their arms in the aisle way and soaking in the claps and cheers of the fans. As the announce duo continue their Grumpy Old Men style bickering, the winning team heads to the back, having regained some momentum and focus as they try to make it to the top of the SWF’s tag team division.

Johnson/Myers – DNS.

"We're here at the University of Victoria in British Columbia, Canada, where, shortly, young Ricky Barbosa hopes to gain a measure of revenge against MANSON. The issue stems from last week's Storm, where MANSON employed a number goons and then beat Barbosa and Myers bloody en route to an easy win last week." "Barbosa learned MANSON isn't playing around and he better adapt quickly before he gets caught again. The brutality, the sickening bloodlust… that pure, unadulterated evil and fire in his eyes, it's something I haven't seen in a long time from MANSON and I personally welcome it." "It's all grossly perverted. Some action needs to be taken before he does something needless like this again." "You're mentoring Spike Jenkins, the man who broke your neck, so maybe once he does something like that, you'll come around on him. However, it wasn't needless, Barbosa was sacrificed for a good cause… the Messiah's cause." The camera switch to the stage area, as the arena lights fall, cueing a guttural, distorted warbing from the speakers. The fans rise to their feet, as tension builds… Then a final growl kicks "Scientific Remote Viewing" by Cephalic Carnage into full gear, as flashing strobes begin to pulse, with smoke billowing out from the stage. The curtain parts and obscured by his tattered, brown cloak, with metal mask and hood covering his face, MANSON walks out onto the stage, showered by spotlights as the merciless jeers of the crowd rain down. "Ladies and Gentlemen… This opening bout is a singles contest scheduled for one fall! Introducing first, hailing from Denver, Colorado, USA, he weighs in at two hundred and thirty pounds… MMMMAAAANNNNSOOONNN!" He strides down the aisle, completely focused on the ring, as the numerous chains on his person rattle ominously. He holds the bent metal bat over his shoulder, at the ready as he walks, then slides in underneath the bottom rope. He then stands and backs into his corner, where he flips the bat over the top rope at the behest of the referee, brushes off his hood and strips off his mask, placing it over the post. Finally, he sheds the cloak, draping it over the turnbuckle post, as well, and prepares for the match. "I'm lost, what the hell is he doing now? He thinks he's a super-villain?" "Isn't he? I mean, he can believe what he wants, no one is gonna stop him when he walks around with bats, chains, and God knows what else on him. Who's gonna dare asking him what's going on there?" As MANSON loosens up in the middle of the ring, the soothing sounds of Cephalic Carnage fade out… "Carry on, my wayward son, There’ll be peace when you are done Lay your weary head to rest, Don’t you cry no more…" …and the opening riffs of “Carry On My Wayward Son” by Kansas resound within Key Arena. Two large blue flares erupt, making their way to the rafters from both sides of the stage, as Ricky Barbosa makes his appearance from behind the curtain and into the illuminating spotlights. “And his opponent, hailing from the City of Champions, Edmonton, Alberta, he weighs in at one hundred and eighty pounds… RICKY BAAAARRRRRBOSSSSSAAAAA!" The lyrics fade as Barbosa makes the long walk to the ring, and passing by supportive fans lining ringside, slaps hands with a few as he arrives at ringside. He peers at MANSON from under the brim of his hat and turns toward the steps. He pauses for a moment, the butterflies welling up in his stomach, and lets them out with a heavy sigh and a crack of his neck. Finally deciding to everything head on, he walks up slow and deliberately, forcing MANSON to wait further. His eyes wide and almost fearful but full of anticipation, he stands on the apron, his foe waiting for him on the other side. An attendant rushes over, taking his hat and leather trenchcoat from him, He grabs onto the top rope with trepidation, but launches himself over regardless, throwing his fear aside as the lights come up and Referee Kivell calls for the bell. ::DING DING:: The native Canadian crowd already cheering Barbosa on, he steps out from his corner and begins circling the ring, but MANSON doesn't budge an inch from his. Looking at him through his long, black locks, MANSON gestures toward the bat on the outside. The Wayward Son looks, his eyes fixed on the bat, which is still stained with a dried, dark brown substance, flaking by now, nearly like rust. Taking his cue, MANSON rushes Barbosa, forcing him into a quick elbow and collar. He pushes Barbosa about the ring, imposing his superior strength and size on his much weaker counterpart. "What a way to start by MANSON!" exclaims King. "I absolutely love it, using Barbosa's frame of mind right now to gain the advantage. Just look at him shoving that little bastard around the ring already." "It's not as bad as using others to get one over on defenseless wrestlers but what happened to MANSON that he has to feel he has to do this stuff?" "The reality of the SWF happened, Mak, he realized he was getting nowhere playing fair, just like I have, just like you have, at one point before, but it could also be argued that thoughts like these were always dwelling in his head... we're just seeing the real him right now." He finally muscles Barbosa into a neutral corner and releases his hold, then comes in with a right hand which catches him flush. He throws a left, a right, and continues on, forcing in an elbow on occasion, until Kivell finally steps in and separates the two. "We all know MANSON's gameplan everytime he goes out, but here he is, getting started early with a barrage!" "Why does the ref always have to get involved, just let MANSON beat the hell out of him and send him packing back to wrestling school." Barbosa goes at MANSON looking for more, but he lays in a kick to the gut, stalling him, then bringing a knee upward straight into his face. Ricky falls back, and MANSON jumps on him from the side, and starts smashing his countenance with elbows. He flails about, struggling to free himself while covering up with his hands in front of his face, until finally MANSON wraps his hands around his throat and begins throttling him. "And now a knee to the face followed by more dirty tricks by MANSON!" "It's just the quickest way from Point A to Point B… get your opponent down and smash his face in... and choke him out of need be." Kivell steps in again and attempts to pull MANSON off Barbosa, but resorts to the five count. He releases his choke at four and nine-tenths, earning a reprimand which goes ignored, before turning toward Barbosa once again. However, Kivell provides enough distraction this time for Barbosa to leap at MANSON with legs in front, catching him with a dropkick which sends him flying! "Barbosa coming back with a dropkick, sending MANSON out of the ring!" "See… this is all Kivell's fault… just let em go." MANSON hits the ropes off the dropkick and nearly goes out, but catches himself while on the apron before he does so. He stands and Barbosa heads after him, but the Bull rakes his eyes, staggering him, then grabs him by the back of the head and pulls him down throat first onto the top rope. "But that's what Ricky gets for trying to take unfair advantage of MANSON… a cut-up eye and a bruised windpipe for his trouble!" shouts King. Barbosa springs off the rope, dropping onto all fours in the center of the ring, where MANSON drops a knee from above to the back of the head. His opponent writhes in pain, grabbing the back of his neck and head, while rolling onto his back, as MANSON hits the ropes. He bounces off, coming back toward the center, kicking his leg out and dropping a wild Flashing Elbow to the chest! He then goes for a pin! "The Muta inspired Flashing Elbow! Cover!" ONE! TWO! KICKOUT! Barbosa is pulled up by his hair by MANSON, who brings him in eye to eye, then snaps his head forward and hits a headbutt! The Son stumbles back, right into a corner, where MANSON chases him down and connects with a knee lift to the stomach. Barbosa lurches forward and MANSON pushes him back against the turnbuckle, then lays into him with a number of forearms, dazing his opponent, then grabbing him by the wrist and whipping him across the ring, Barbosa hits the turnbuckles and MANSON leaps, looking for the high knee, but Barbosa ducks out of the way and the Bull's knee hits the turnbuckle! "The headbutt and a knee to the gut, but Barbosa evades the big knee in the corner!" His opponent closing in on him, MANSON grabs onto the rope for leverage and goes for a kick to the mid-section, connecting. However, on the next attempt, Barbosa sidesteps him, then brings an arm forward and fires off a chop to the chest, which has little impact on the clothed body of MANSON, as he lands a chop of his own to the base of Barbosa's neck. He releases the ropes, landing another kick and forcing Barbosa over. He then follows up his previous kesagiri chop by grabbing hands with Barbosa, slapping on a one handed knucklelock and forcing him to stand straight up, and with that, uses his free hand to release multiple, repeating chops, one after another and every one of them connecting with his opponent's throat. MANSON lets Barbosa drop to the mat, on all fours once again, as he grabs his neck in pain. "Those always dangerous kesagiri chops of MANSON break Barbosa down!" "He can set up a multitude of moves with those chops, Mak. The Iron Cutting Sword, the Inverted Brainbuster which he calls the Instant Hell Murder, the Heaven's Gate Goku Raku Gatame… a lot of his offense is based around doing as much damage as possible to the head and neck in order to set those up and this is just the start." Standing above Barbosa, MANSON doesn't allow him a moment of respite, as he straddles his back and pulls him up by his hair. He balls his fist and looking out at the crowd for a moment, begins pounding the back of Barbosa's skull with fists. Kivell again forces MANSON off Barbosa, only to be pushed aside by MANSON, who next lifts Barbosa up casually and throws him through the ropes, out of the ring. This gets another warning from Kivell, who begins counting Barbosa out regardless, as MANSON parades around the ring. "You may be right, it's been a while since I've seen MANSON this vicious and aggressive, he's giving Barbosa zero remorse. I wonder what it is about him that gets MANSON so riled up." "It could just be Barbosa iu particular, but I believe he has a problem with the SWF as a whole, as he's said many times in the past… except for a select few like Johnson he really dislikes everyone here and views like does Barbosa… especially you." "ONE!" "BAR BO SA!" "TWO!" "BAR BO SA!" "THREE!" "BAR BO SA!" "FOUR!" With the fans willing Barbosa on, MANSON changes direction and hits the opposite ropes, bouncing off and charging toward Barbosa's position. He launches himself and exits through the ropes, straightening out and looking for the suicida elbow smash, but Barbosa ducks out of the way and MANSON crashes into the barrier instead! "He was trying to put this one away, looking for the elbow suicida but he crashes and burns instead! Let's see if Barbosa can take advantage now." Barbosa scrambles up to his feet, hurries over to MANSON and attempts to pick his limp frame up. He comes to and grabs onto the barrier with one arm, stuffing an elbow into Barbosa's face with the other. He stumbles away and MANSON follows, chasing him down and looking for a lariat, but Barbosa evades his opponent again, as MANSON's arm wraps around the post! He doesn't put up much of a fight this time as Barbosa shoves him under the ropes, into the ring on the aisle side and goes for the pin. ONE! TWO! KICKOUT! Fired up, Barbosa stands and runs for the opposite side ropes, bouncing off and coming back, somersaulting a few feet in front and popping up, then going for the somersault splash. However, MANSON gets his knees up and crack goes Barbosa's back, as he bounces off and grabs his spine in pain. MANSON stands and pulls Barbosa up, placing him onto his shoulders in a fireman's carry and throwing him down in front, simultaneously bringing his knees up and churning Barbosa's insides with a gutbuster! He hits the mat and is immediately pinned by MANSON. "MANSON puts a stop to the Rolling Thunder and follows it up with the double knee gutbuster out of the fireman's carry, that's gotta hurt!" "Everyone knows the back and abdominals are maybe the most important part of the human body and MANSON just tore up that base in the matter of seconds. It effects your strength, your speed… essentially, you're done for." ONE! TWO! KICKOUT! "But let's not count him out yet, it looks like he still has some fight left." MANSON drags Barbosa up to his feet and ducks under the arm, wrapping the other around the chest and behind the neck, but before he can lift Barbosa up for the Uranage, he catches a frantic series of elbows to the temple. The hold released, Barbosa wraps an arm around MANSON's neck and plants him on his skull with a DDT! Barbosa rolls him over with a hook of the leg! ONE! TWO! KICKOUT! Barbosa pins MANSON again, this time with his arms around both legs. ONE! TWO! KICKOUT! "MANSON is just too big, strong and tough for Barbosa to try that nonsense," says King. "He's gotta wear him down a more." Barbosa stands and brings MANSON up with him, but the Stampede breaks free with a knee to the stomach. He grabs Barbosa by the arm and sends him hurtling into the ropes but as MANSON goes for a lariat on the come back, Barbosa ducks under the arm and reaching from underneath MANSON, takes him back with a roll-up! ONE! TWO! THRE-- KICKOUT! "MANSON IS OUT!" "He's losing the speed game right now, he had better slow Barbosa down and take him back out of this match." Barbosa and MANSON each stand, with Barbosa hitting the ropes and coming back at MANSON. However, this time he puts a stop to Barbosa, chasing after him and stepping into a high roundhouse! Barbosa goes down but pops back up as MANSON hits the opposite ropes and comes back, preparing the Iron Cutting Sword! "Here it comes, the Zantetsuken, Mak!" Barbosa evades once again, however, scrambling underneath and coming back up. He springs into a Superkick, but the leg is caught by MANSON! He grins at Barbosa who leaps with his free leg and goes for an enzuigiri, but MANSON ducks underneath that one, throwing Barbosa onto his stomach. Keeping a hold of his leg, MANSON steps in between his legs and grapevines the legs with one of his own, grabs his arms and places his other foot just below his neck. He then steps down, stomping Barbosa's face into the mat! "CURBSTOMP!" "He wrecked Barbosa's pretty boy looks with that one, the wicked Curbstomp just rearranged his face!" MANSON steps over Barbosa off the Curbstomp and rolls him over, looking for the pin! ONE! TWO! THRE-- "KICKOUT! BARBOSA KICKS OUT!" "Unbelievable. Just give it up. His frustration boiling over, MANSON gets in Kivell's face about the count, as Barbosa crawls underneath the ropes, onto the apron. He drags his body over to the turnbuckle and begins climbing up, his back to the ring. The Messiah gives up on his argument and turns back toward the ring, where he catches Barbosa heading up. He dashes over and knocks Barbosa's legs out from under him, crotching him on the turnbuckles. He then turns back to back to Barbosa and grabs him by the arms, lifting him over his head and dragging him away from the turnbuckle. "Splash Mountain coming up, Mak!" However, Barbosa kicks his legs wildly and manages to free himself from MANSON's grip as he lands behind MANSON. Quicker than MANSON can, he turns toward his foe and again goes low, pulling MANSON over with a roll-up, or at least attempting to, as MANSON grabs hold of the ropes. His grip slips and MANSON takes his opportunity, delivering a straight downward stomp directly to Barbosa's face! MANSON steps away from Barbosa as the rookie covers himself up with a forearm, writhing, but begins to stand anyway. He gets to his feet with the assistance of the ropes, but on the other side of the ring, MANSON uses the momentum of the ropes to launch himself toward Barbosa, and before he knows it… "ZANTETSUKEN!" MANSON connects with the Iron Cutting Sword, knocking Barbosa straight out of his boots and flipping him inside out! "LLLAAAAARRRRIIIAAAATOOOO!" shouts King, as MANSON lays down for the pin. ONE! TWOOOO! THREEEE! ::DING DING!:: "Your winner by pinfall… MMMMAAAANNNNNSOOOOONNNN!" announces Funyon, as Cephalic Carnage comes over the speakers. "Barbosa gave it all he could, but MANSON prevails, unfortunately." "It was looking scary," says King, whle MANSON has his arm raised, "but aside from those brief moments, he took Barbosa out of this match from the start." "And now we'll see if his Blood and Thunder tag partner JJ Johnson can do the same to Matt Myers… back with more Storm, after this."

SWF Storm returns with Ben Hardy intercepting Insane Luchador backstage as he steps in front of him with the microphone shoved his face. IL stops, looking mildly annoyed, as he sighs and relents. “I’m backstage with the Ill One, Insane Luchador, who last week got viciously destroyed by Zyon’s sneak attack when he got caught with the Big Shot post-match! What are your thoughts on that, IL?” IL simply stares before saying, “How do you think I feel, Hardy? I tried to put some perspective for Zyon until he ran his mouth off and decided he needed to start a fight that he can never finish. Until he decided that he, the Unique Youth, felt the need to fill his mind of Alpha Male status, until he decided the need to strike first.” “Zyon has been edgy recently and perhaps your comments threw him over the edge,” Hardy replies. IL’s eyes narrow as he takes an imposing step towards Hardy. “I don’t give a damn what the cause was, Ben, I don’t care what sort of excuses he’ll be spewing out, there’s nothing he can do to amend this one. Nothing. He must’ve found me to be an easy target at the moment but I’m far from an easy target, I’m about as far as an easy target as it gets. Hell, I have even…” “Died?” Hardy asks. Insane Luchador pauses, shutting his eyes, before opening them. “That was a dream, Ben, that was all a dream.” “…Oh.” “Right?” “Right.” “Good. But here’s the thing, Ben, I can’t figure out how or why Zyon thinks so highly of himself. I don’t see how this kid can think that he’s any better, any different than the other wrestlers I’ve faced off against.” Insane Luchador pauses to calm himself down by taking a deep breath before continuing. “Well, you’ve certainly had your accomplishments, Rickmen, over the years.” “It’s hard not to, Hardy, but that doesn’t change the fact. He is Zyon, plain and simple, and that’s all he’ll ever be. I’m Insane Luchador and that’s all I will ever be but that doesn’t put us on the same playing field. No. This kid hasn’t taken the hard hits I have, he hasn’t bled like I have bled…” “Not many bleed like you do, IL,” Hardy says, half in complement and half in an obnoxious interruption. Luchador grunts. “He hasn’t willingly flown off balconies like I have, he’s never fought Dace f’ing Night in a god damn car factory, he hasn’t taken on Grimedogg, he hasn’t been put through glass by Crowe, or brawled throughout a show with Stephens, he hasn’t been put through the hardest battle of his life against Blank, he has never dropped from a parking lot level to another just for a title, no. He hasn’t fought people like I have, Ben, not at all. He doesn’t have battle scars like I have.” “Not too many have scars like you either,” Hardy comments during the silence. IL looks around before cracking his knuckles to throw out an idea. “Point to nearly anything, Hardy, and chances are I’ve either flown off of it or been thrown through it,” IL says with a little smirk while Hardy surveys his surroundings. Ben Hardy pauses and points off to the side of Luchador’s shoulder with a little shrug. The Ill One glances behind him at where Hardy’s finger focuses in on and he snaps his head back at Hardy with an irritated face. “That’s a cement wall, Hardy,” IL says. Hardy gives a small gulp with a little stutter as he points above him without putting any thought into it. Luchador tilts his head up and stares at the ceiling in disbelief. Slowly he lowers his head to stare at Hardy straight in the eyes as he sighs before saying, “That’s a ceiling, Hardy, now you’re just being a dick about it.” “Sorry,” Hardy mumbles while Luchador continues to stare at him. “But. Still. The point stands, Ben, that somebody like the Unique Youth doesn’t intimidate me, no, I can’t see him doing anything to me that I haven’t put myself through. His pathetic ambush with the Big Shot wasn’t anything, Hardy, it was an inconvenience. The kid has some talent behind him but he can’t let some natural ability go straight to his head, hell, maybe he’s the one who has been dropped too many times onto his head if he thinks he can go one-on-one with me. Zyon has picked a fight that he doesn’t want to have, whether he knows it yet or not. Earlier, I had said that Zyon hasn’t ever bled like I have bled but that is something I will change very, very easily.” Insane Luchador’s face slowly twists into the notorious psychotic grin as he turns around to walk away with thoughts of contorting limbs of Zyon flying through his mind. But he suddenly turns around and yells back towards Hardy, “Zyon, I know you were watching this, kid, and like you said earlier… I’m going to be seeing you soon.”

MAIN EVENT - SWF WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP Gabriel Drake © vs. Alan Clark Standard 5500 words SWF WORLD TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIPS Two Skinny White Guys ©© vs. Wild & Dangerous Standard tag rules. 5500 words Send to Justice HARDCORE TITLE Jimmy the Doom © vs. Zyon No rules. 4500 words Send to HollywoodSpikeJenkins YET MORE TAG TEAM ACTION The Cadillac Boys vs. Asia Underground Will the Cad Boys be able to reverse their own slide AND stop Asia Underground's meteoric rise to the top? Only time will tell. Standard tag rules. 4500 words. HARDCORE MATCH JJ Johnson vs. Matt Myers (with James Matheson) Johnson's... um... been in a bit of a slump after failing to wrest the World Heavyweight Title from Gabriel Drake. Can he reverse his fortunes against Myers? No rules. 4000 words Send to Secret Agent OPENING CONTEST Ricky Barbosa vs. Manson Can Ricky avenge the vicious shot he took from Manson last week? Standard rules. 4000 words.

By the way, no one's brought it up in this thread, but it's been discussed by different people at different times in different situations a lot recently. Just to make this clear: As long as I run things around here, I am not going to overturn a marker's decision. Ever. Consider that a policy statement.

For the record, I'd been thinking about the second post's concept of marker deadlines, since I remember it being something that had been mentioned before. I'm having a hard time conceptualizing a way of enforcing marker deadlines, since the only stick I have against markers is to refuse to let them mark anymore, and it would be counterproductive to do so. I mean, I can barely manage to read and book everything as it is. If anyone has any suggestions, I'd be happy to listen - I'm always open to a different way of doing things.

By the way, here's my official policy on this: For fuck's sake, don't tell me you're reusing stuff. For example, don't get online and have the following conversation with me: YOU: Mind if I reuse a match? ME: ... if I don't notice, it's fine. YOU: Think you'll notice if I reuse my losing match from July 2, 2006, against Cutthroat, where the main thrust was that I just couldn't manage to hit my finisher? ME: AUGH

Correction: I joined in 2002. That is all.

Smartmarks Wrestling Federation Limited (NASDAQ: SWFL), a Chicago-based sports entertainment promotion that has been plagued by financial losses for six consecutive quarters, has scheduled its annual shareholders meeting for March 1, 2007, in Spokane, Washington. SWFL, $13.09 at Friday's close, has dropped consistently. Many attribute the financial issues to the promotion's refusal to build new stars and their on-screen reliance on Michael Stephens, known professionally as "Toxxic", and his tag-team partner, Landon "La Cucaracha" Maddix. There has been talk of unseating the unpopular SWF Ltd. CEO, Joseph Peters. Mr. Peters, who built his fortune by developing and marketing the Snow Demon line of snowplows for use on sports utility vehicles, had no comment as of press time. On-screen authority figure Tom Flesher has been discussed as a possible replacement, but laughed the idea off. "I'm not a businessman," Mr. Flesher said late Friday. "I'm a political scientist, I have some legal training, I'm a philosopher. I work with the boys in the back, but I can't manage an international enterprise like the SWF. No one would ask me to." Mr. Flesher said that he had no idea who might be organizing the shareholders' revolt, but that in order to avoid controversy, he would abstain from voting at the shareholders' meeting. Many wonder if Mr. Flesher's on-screen character, a manipulative backstage politician who claims to be retired but continues to meddle in Mr. Stephens' on-screen affairs by "phasing him out" of main attraction matches, is merely a cover for his ambitions to run the business' front office as well. One of the more persistent and credible rumors involves Stephen Popick, a George Mason University-trained economist who was involved in the creation of the SWF's chief competitor, The OAOAST. The OAOAST has been criticized of late for "poaching [the SWF's] talent, then sending them back to us bruised, battered and disillusioned," Mr. Flesher said. "They have more money than we do, and so they can steal Johnny Damon from us, but they won't even let us have Kevin Youkilis," he continued, making reference to Major League Baseball's practice of large, rich teams poaching talent from poorer, smaller-market organizations. Mr. Flesher, when pressed, admitted to having recently read Moneyball. Other rumors involved a hostile takeover planned by the Osaka Textile Concern, a recent daughter of the Aechiba Corporation's split. The Aechiba Corporation was the corporate owner of the SWF between 2003 and 2005, when the business went public at the request of on-screen commissioner and Vice President of Talent Relations Mark Stevens. Stevens, now retired and training new wrestlers in his Nebraska home, had no comment on Friday, preferring to "stay out of the money issues." BennerCorp, a small public relations firm located in Northern New Jersey, has expressed an interest in purchasing the promotion. BennerCorp has appeared in storylines in the past, chiefly to be remembered as the producer of "Ghost Machine." Ghost Machine is, as Mr. Flesher put it, "a bit of a running gag in the SWF." In the recurring storyline, a popular athlete is taken off-screen and replaced by a robot of his exact dimensions, with exactly the same athletic abilities and wrestling style, but an imperfect artificial intelligence engine. Expect more details to follow when information is available.

Love that Manhattan number.

The Valium was my idea, more for a cheap laugh than anything else.

Real Name: Anyone who knows me well knows it. Characters Portrayed: Tom Flesher. Tom Flesher as Durandal. Tom Flesher as Ghost Machine 2.0. Allison Onita. In SWF Since: March 9, 2003. Same time Danny and Zed joined. Real-Life Height: 5'11". Real-Life Weight: It's a closely-guarded secret, even from me. Real-Life Age: 24 Real-Life Location: A suburb of Buffalo, New York Picture: Education: Bachelor of Arts cum laude in Philosophy and Political Science, certification as a paralegal, and 47 credits toward my Juris Doctor Accomplishments Outside of SWF: USA Wrestling mat official (category M2), active in student government, future leader of the free world and possibly Major League Baseball. I also own the world's cutest cat. Favorite Band: Led Zeppelin Favorite Song: "Tangerine" by same Favorite Movie: "My Blue Heaven" with Steve Martin and Rick Moranis Virgin? Explain.: With these eyes? Come on, bitch, give me some credit. I'm a demon, too. Accomplishments Within SWF: Pretty much everything, aside from the Hardcore Championship and the Clusterfuck. I may be the best ever, with the possible exceptions of Edwin MacPhisto, El Luchador Magnifico and Toxxic. Favorite SWF Moment: Wildchild beating Ejiro to win the Ashes 2 Ashes Survivor Series tag match Favorite SWF Writer (All-Time): Kibagami. He never wrote enough to show his bad side, so we were left with a haloed image of his writing skill. Favorite SWF Writer (Current): I'll go with the chorus and say Wildchild, although the people who show consistently always give me something to enjoy. Why You Joined The SWF: I write. I like wrestling. Come on, it's a given.

Continuing our Pacific Rim tour, we're coming to you LIVE from the University of Victoria in Victoria, British Columbia, CANADA! This blockbuster will see not one, not two, but THREE Championships decided! For matches without a marker, send to Ace309 MAIN EVENT - SWF WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP Gabriel Drake © vs. Alan Clark Standard 5500 words SWF WORLD TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIPS Two Skinny White Guys ©© vs. Wild & Dangerous Standard tag rules. 5500 words Send to Justice HARDCORE TITLE Jimmy the Doom © vs. Zyon No rules. 4500 words Send to HollywoodSpikeJenkins YET MORE TAG TEAM ACTION The Cadillac Boys vs. Asia Underground Will the Cad Boys be able to reverse their own slide AND stop Asia Underground's meteoric rise to the top? Only time will tell. Standard tag rules. 4500 words. HARDCORE MATCH JJ Johnson vs. Matt Myers (with James Matheson) Johnson's... um... been in a bit of a slump after failing to wrest the World Heavyweight Title from Gabriel Drake. Can he reverse his fortunes against Myers? No rules. 4000 words Send to Secret Agent OPENING CONTEST Ricky Barbosa vs. Manson Can Ricky avenge the vicious shot he took from Manson last week? Standard rules. 4000 words. Showing goal rate: 66% (8 written matches).

DON'T MENTION THE LITHP

Our showing rate was 58.33[repeating]. That's seven written matches including Wildchild's match as Bruner. We were well short of our goal and it'll be adjusted for next week.

WC wrote a really fun match as Bruner that I perhaps didn't treat fairly in the marking out of logical booking concerns as well as lateness (I was already putting the card together last night when I received it). I hope he posts it. I also hate both Stephens and Clark for making me go through last week again. This time, it came out a shade differently, but Stephens damn well better post his match. I'm continually impressed with Zyon's progress.

"And it is main event time, here on SWF Storm!" enthuses Mak Francis in typical pre-main event hype mode, a mode which Suicide King doesn't seem to have entered just yet. "We've had a great show so far and we're set to cap it off with the number one contender in action, but first, we want to take this chance to remind you that Pepsi Max is available wherever drinks are sold. Pepsi Max, Maximum Taste, No Sugar. King, your thoughts on the main event?" ... King just looks stunned. "King?" "I'm sorry, I'm just taken aback by your spectacular display of selling out." "King, those Pepsi Max cans you've been ploughing through all night don't pay for themselves you know." "They do as far as my wallet is concerned." King astutely points out. "But that's besides the point. Besides your shameless shilling of soft drinks, I'm also taken aback by your shameless promotion of the main event tonight, like it's some sort of potentially company altering moment. It's Landon stinking Maddix taking on Sir Marvelous' imposing but untested bodyguard. A little perspective Mak, please." "Way to sell the show King. I'll admit, with an International Title Match under our belts, it is an interesting choice for a main event. But, if you've got a problem with it, you'll have to take it up with Tom." "Trust me, that'll be the main topic of conversation before our weekly badminton game." "You do that." shrugs Mak, not a fan of badminton. Well, not recently, obviously. Anyway, meanwhile, "Call the Ambulance" by Busta Rhymes has hit and the ratings have spiked. Or, so Sir Marvelous would have you believe, the suited host of The House Of Marvelous limping through the curtains and leading the way to the ring. Behind him, the also suited Tracey Bruner follows, the day-to-day bodyguard not deviating from his usual attire for his wrestling debut. Bruner marches behind Marvelous, head down and growling under his fedora and shades. "The following contest is scheduled for one fall!" announces Funyon. "On the way to the ring, being accompanied by Sir MMAAAAARRRvelous! Hailing from the Bedford-Stuyvesant section of Brooklyn, New York... weighing four hundred, fifty five pounds... making his SWF in-ring debut, TTRRRRAAAACCEEEEYYY "BIG BULLY" BBRRRRRRRRUUUUUUUUUUUNNEEEEEERRRRRR!!!" "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" "Four fifty five?" gasps Mak. "Yikes!" "'Yikes' doesn't even remotely cover it Mak. This guy is built like a brick shithouse, if you'll pardon my French, in his line of work you have to be. Of course, in his line of work, he deals with all sorts of people, not just scrawny punks like Maddix." Bruner climbs the steps and into the ring, not having to deal with velvet ropes and red carpets and such tonight. Instead, Marvelous takes up a position in his bodyguard's corner, while the bigman hands his jacket and fedora out of the ring. The sunglasses, however, remain. "Most guys get the honour of facing Ced or Martin Big Country Hunt for their debuts, but Bruner's got one hell of a bigger test awaiting him..." "REACH OUT AND TOUCH FAITH!" The crowd go wild as the lights dim, alternating between complete blackout and really frikkin' bright as "Personal Jesus" by Marilyn Manson hits. The always quick to adapt SWF fanbase already know what this means, not needing functioning lights to tell it's Landon Maddix emerging through the curtains! The lights return back to normal as Landon thrusting his hands to the side and soaks up the cheers of the crowd, Megan simply standing and pointing like a good little girl (OMGSECKSISM~!). "And, introducing his opponent! Accompanied to the ring by MEGAN SKYE! From Huron, South Dakota by way of Madrid, Spain... weighing in at two hundred, eight pounds... he is the number ONE contender to the SWF World Heavyweight Championship and the ONLY two-time Clusterfuck Champion in SWF history... LANDON "LA CUCARACHA" MMMMMAAAAAAAAAAAADDIIIIIIXXXXXXXX!!!!" "YYYEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!" Grinning from ear to ear in spite of the giant badass waiting in the ring for him, Landon notes the veritable sea of 'FANCY A CLUSTERFUCK' shirts being worn in the crowd. One particular female fan gets a peck on the cheek from La Cucaracha for buying his merchandise, before Landon runs the steps and spins enthusiastically into the ring! "Despite your misgivings King, Landon is the number one contender and everybody's been buzzing about his appearance on The House Of Marvelous last week, when he trashed Marvelous' couch with flat Pepsi Max..." Right on cue, Mak holds his (non-flat) can of Pepsi Max to camera with his best selling smile. "...which didn't go down too well with Marvelous. He demanded Landon pay for his insolence tonight and 'volunteered' Mister Bruner to take care of matters personally, now that his wrestling contract has been apparantly fast-tracked through." "What are you implying!?" "Nothing..." "Well, keep it that way! Tom Flesher is nothing but on the level and anyone who claims otherwise doesn't have a clue what they're talking about!" "I wasn't referring to Tom." Mak insists, leaving King to draw his own conclusions about just who he was. Landon removes his ring jacket, with a cautious half-eye on Bruner at all times. The bigman remains stoic and with the sunglasses over his eyes it's hard to read too much of an expression. Besides, of course, the 'I'm gonna kill you' scowl. Which is apparantly too subtle for Landon, as he fluffs his hair and happily skips into the centre of the ring. *DINGDINGDING!* A little duking and jiving from Landon on the bell doesn't worry Bruner in the slightest and he moves towards the number one contender determinedly, grabbing at La Cucaracha. Landon evades Mister Bruner's grasp first time around... and the second time, pointing to his temple to show he has the brains. But when Bruner comes barelling forward a third time ducking isn't an option, so Maddix scampers backwards, ducking his head through the ropes and calling for a timeout! "YYYEEEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!" "And the people CHEER!?" King despairs. "Well, each to their own." Megan climbs to the apron to talk some more strategy with Landon, which doesn't go down well with Sir Marvelous, the Atlanta native chastising referee Sexton Hardcastle for keeping his man from attacking. Strategy session over, Landon gives Megan the thumbs up and jigs back into the ring, squaring up with Bruner. Despite a full foot difference in size Maddix doesn't seem too worried as he encourages Bruner to take the first shot. Like he needs encouraging... ...but Landon AGAIN ducks underneath, Bruner spinning around to be met with a forearm! A second! A third! Of course, he stays on his feet, but Landon senses progress and rushes into the ropes, soaring at Bruner with a flying variant... ...and literally BOUNCES off of Bruner!! "OOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHH!!" "Man, Bruner did not move an inch!" gasps Mak. Landon's expression changes in a second, suddenly not so cocksure of himself as Bruner stands tall over him. Quickly Landon scuttles into a corner and ducks out in need of another timeout. This time Bruner is urged forward by Sir Marvelous though and Landon has to think quickly as he finds himself trapped in the corner. He jinks left, jinks right, then jinks left again as he tries to escape the corner. However, it's a l o n g way around Bruner. And he runs right into an arm, Bruner checking him back into the corner and landing a BIG haymaker! Another right hand lands, Maddix dropping to his knees and covering up. "This might not last long," predicts King, "although hopefully Bruner will start enjoying himself and drag it out a little." Still swinging Bruner ignores the reprimands of referee Hardcastle telling him to get out of the corner. He proves somewhat of a distraction though, allowing Landon time to crawl through the legs and escape out of the corner. Bruner just misses him on the way through, but turns around just in time to catch Maddix the second time, lifting him up by the throat and tossing him BACK into the turnbuckles! "Landon, pitched through the air like something out of The Fresh Prince Of Bel Air!" "There's some of Tracey's bouncer background." notes King. "If your name's not on the list, you're not coming in!" Slumped in the corner, Landon gets crushed with a knee. Another overhand right then finds the mark, before Bruner grabs Maddix by the wrist, whipping him across the ring into the opposite corner. As Landon settles Mister Bruner then charges, looking to crush him in the corner with an Avalanche... ...but there's NOBODY HOME and Bruner runs himself sternum first into the turnbuckles!! "YYEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!" "Running attack, not quite so successful however." As Bruner staggers away from the corner, Landon is waiting on him, springing up with a Dropsault! Bruner staggers some more, not enough to put him down though. Perservering, Maddix springs up with a second Dropsault, this time causing the winded Big Bully to take a step backwards. Third time is the charm for La Cucaracha as he runs the length of the ring and lands a third dropkick, momentum carrying Mister Bruner out through the ropes, bumping off the apron on his way to the floor! "And down goes the bigman!" cheers Mak, despite the fact Bruner lands on his feet. "Big it took three shots to force him out!" King counters. "Three shots that'd put any normal competitor down alone, might I add." "But Landon isn't done yet!" Mak suddenly erupts... ...AS LANDON DIVES THROUGH THE SECOND AND BOTTOM ROPES WITH A SUICIDE DIVE!! "YYEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!" "Topé Especial! More of a tackle than a dive, through the bottom and middle rather than the traditional route, giving Bruner no chance to catch him on the way down!" Bruner ends up slumped against the barricade as Landon drags himself up, whipping the crowd into a frenzy. "LAN - DON!" "LAN - DON!" "LAN - DON!" "LAN - DON!" Yeah, like that. Grabbing Bruner around the side of the head, Maddix tries to lead his opponent back towards the ring. Moving a four hundred fifty five pounder against his will isn't an easy task for any man though so Landon gives up and instead climbs to the apron. Waiting on Bruner, Landon comes running down the apron and soars...CAUGHT! Bruner catches Maddix in his arms like he was nothing, holding him in a Bearhug for a few seconds before running him into the nearest ringpost! *CLUNK!* "OOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!" The air rushes out of Landon, compounding the pain in his ribs. And for good measure he's still held in the Bearhug, only released to be dumped back into the ring by Bruner. "You can't fault Landon for trying to employ a hit and move strategy against Mister Bruner. But, the problem is, Bruner has spent his life dealing with, shall we say, 'slippery customers'. And if he catches you, woah boy are you gonna know about it!" "No finesse, all impact! Maybe that's why I'm enjoying this so much." "That and the fact he's exhibiting it against Landon Maddix, right?" "I've become predictable." Bruner clambers back into the ring, Sir Marvelous telling him to forget about pinfall for now and instead 'make him suffer'! So Bruner drags Landon back to his feet and indeed makes him suffer, whipping him into a corner and this time ENGULFING La Cucaracha with an Avalanche! The wind rushes out of the crowd in shock, nothing compared to the effects on Landon's lungs however. Landon curls up in the corner, only to be pulled out into a short clothesline from Bruner! And a cover this time follows... ONE! TWO! No! Sitting Landon back up, Bruner places one hand on the top of the head, cupping the chin and WRENCHING Landon's neck to the side like a ringpull on a Pepsi Max (sure, it's an awkward bit of imagery, but great advertising!), the gruesome sight prompting Megan to watch from behind her hands. "Ah, the timeless Neck Vice." sighs King nostalgically. "If you're gonna steal from Zeus, you might as well steal that I guess." As Bruner wrenches away on the neck, Sir Marvelous puts his days as a road agent to good use though and astutely points out to his bodyguard that he should be staying on the ribs. So Bruner releases the neck and drops a knee into the spine, Maddix rolling away groaning in pain. He doesn't get far before Mister Bruner catches up with him, squashing La Cucaracha under his foot a couple of times. If that didn't manage to kill the cockroach however, maybe the four hundred, fifty five pound elbow drop that follows does! Or, at least cracks a few ribs, judging by Landon's reaction! "Somewhere, Gabriel Drake is watching on and I'm sure he's smiling right now." "He's not the only one." notes King. Gripping onto the bottom rope in hopes of some sort of a reprieve, Landon is left disappointed as Bruner just pulls him away into the centre of the ring. Bruner then pulls the number one contender to his feet, scooping him back into his arms with another Bearhug! "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" This time Bruner really puts the squeeze on La Cucaracha, looking for a submission out of this hold rather than just setting up for something else. Landon feels his ribs being compressed and realises he has to act fast, so goes to his old standby, the eyepoke. Unfortunately for him though, Bruner's sunglasses deflect the fingers and he simply clamps tighter on the Bearhug as penance. "LAN - DON!" "LAN - DON!" "LAN - DON!" "LAN - DON!" "The crowd in Seattle trying to get behind the number one contender," Mak needlessly points out, "although, how much good that's going to do him in this situation is argueable." "I don't think there's any arguement; it's not going to help a bit." "Well, we'll see." At the moment it's certainly not helping, as Landon's limps begin to go limp. As Landon's head slumps forward, Hardcastle senses he might not be able to continue and grabs hold of the wrist, raising La Cucaracha's arm overhead... ...and it drops. "ONE!" "Man, what a debut victory this would be for Bruner! Landon might be done already!" Still Landon shows little sign of life as Megan slams her fists into the ring apron, trying to encourage her man to show some fight. Easier said than done when the very life is being squeezed out of you by a six foot ten giant. Bruner continues to tighten the Bearhug at intervals to keep Maddix neutralised, Hardcastle lifting the arm again... ...and it DROPS! "TWO!" "That's two, one more and it's over!" "One more and Mister Bruner has beaten a two-time World Champion in a matter of minutes!" calls Mak. "What a statement this would make to the rest of the SWF!" Realising he's in trouble, Landon weakly looks for some sort of point of leverage. Bruner shakes off the attempts to tug his ears though and Landon's arms go loose at his sides once more. "LAN - DON!" "LAN - DON!" "LAN - DON!" "LAN - DON!" The crowd burst into one more chorus in support of The Next Generation as they see he has one last chance to survive, a third time Hardcastle raising the arm. And with one eye readied on the timekeeper's table, Sexton lets the arm fall... ...BUT IT STAYS UP THIS TIME!! "YYYYEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!" "Nono! Maddix isn't done just yet!" Mak cheers. Fist pumping with adrenaline, Landon begins his fight back, pushing himself out just enough to rear back and pop Bruner with a right hand! Another right hand! And another! Even after three blows Bruner doesn't let Landon go though. So Landon reaches back into his bag of tricks... ...lifts Bruner's sunglasses up... ...AND JABS HIM IN THE EYES! "YYYYEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!" "Oh, come ON!" groans King. "The first eyepoke was inaffective, but Landon realised the problem and found a way past it. How's that for in-ring psychology?" Finally Mister Bruner is forced to release Landon, who takes advantage by landing a quick forearm strike. Another forearm connects, before Landon feels the need to change it up and lands a stinging kick to the leg! Another kick! And another, trying to knot up Bruner's thigh muscle and break the bigman's base down. It works to some extent but Bruner is still standing. So Maddix changes it up again... *slap!* "WHOOOOOOOO!" ...connecting with a knifedge chop, although Bruner's shirt negates most of the sting. "Is it me, or is this not going anywhere?" asks King. "I think Landon could do with a strategy change." Mak concedes. "Striking with Bruner isn't going to work." Apparantly disagreeing, Maddix... *slap!* "WHOOOOOOOO!" ...lands a second chop. Same result as the first though, Bruner brushing off the temporary blindness from the jabs to the eyes and looking to show Landon how to strike like a man, aiming for his head with a wild Lariat...DUCKED! Maddix manages to get underneath the arm even despite his bad back and retreats in a neutral corner. He succeeds in little more than angering the big bodyguard, Bruner pulling a u-turn and again charging headlong at Maddix. But he falls right into the number one contender's trap as Maddix dives out of the corner with a low dropkick, clipping out Bruner's knee and causing him to career face-first into the middle turnbuckle! "Some more hit and move from Maddix, this is what he has to do against the bigman. And it's what he'll need to do at From The Fire of course against Gabriel Drake." As Bruner slumps in the corner, Maddix limps across the ring clutching his back. He has no time to hang around nursing injuries though, having to take the opening while he can as Bruner lies against the bottom turnbuckle pad. Landon straightens up his back before running coast to coast, soaring into Bruner with a basement dropkick, SMUSHING his face against the buckle!! "OOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!" "GET LICKED!" "Oh no! His glasses!" "King, I think the glasses are the least of Bruner's worries at the moment." "Not if they become a permanent extension of his face!" Despite the big move, Maddix is unable to drag Bruner out of the corner. So he has to settle for what he can get, shunting Bruner off the turnbuckle and pinning his arms to his chest to prevent a ropebreak as he covers... ONE! TWO! Kickout, with AUTHORITY, sending Maddix out through the bottom and middle ropes! "Now that's plain scary." Mak says matter of factly. Maddix saves himself, just about, scampering quickly back onto the apron in time to beat Bruner to his feet. As the bigman climbs back up, Landon is then waiting on him and springboards up to the top rope, before bouncing back off with a Springboard Dropkick! "YYYYEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!" The shot fells the already off balance Bruner, but only as far as one knee. Landon is quickly up to put the finishing touches to Big Bully though, taking a short run-up for the SHINING WIZAAAA... ...NO, BLOCKED!! "WOAH!" Bruner puts his forearm up to protect his face and Landon's knee bounces harmlessly off them. Shocked as anyone at the counter, Landon scrambles back to his feet. And he walks right into Bruner, who grabs La Cucaracha around the throat, lifts him up... ...and DRIVES him down with a swift Chokeslam!! "A huge Chokeslam. And Bruner apparantly did some scouting too... he's not just a bigman destroyer, Bruner is competing!" "He's doing more than that Mak, he's winning!" With Maddix not moving, Bruner understandably drops to his knees to make the pin. Not so understandably, Sir Marvelous waves it off though, telling him 'not yet, not yet'. "What is Marvelous doing?" asks Mak, clearly confused. "His man is seconds away from pinning a former two-time World Champion, what more can he do?" "Destroy Maddix?" "That's not what this is about, is it?" "Apparantly so." Bruner follows the orders he's getting and with a handful of Landon's hair he begins to peel him off the canvas and to his feet. Until a steel chair suddenly comes skimming into the ring that is, catching the attention of Bruner and referee Hardcastle. As does Megan Skye, as she climbs to the apron to complain about the excessive punishment. Bruner and Hardcastle both turn to Megan... which of course allows Landon time to recover and, once he has his bearings about him, grab the steel chair lying beside him. "YYEEEEEEAAAAAAHHHHHH!" "That's right, take the cheap way out as ever." King chastises as Landon staggers back to his feet, chair in hand, Marvelous trying to warn either Bruner or Hardcastle or both to the danger that waits. He succeeds in warning Bruner at least, the bigman turning around... *CRACK!* ...and PUNCHING THE CHAIR, sending it flying out of the ring! Bruner then backfists Landon right in the jaw and drops him to one knee. At which point, Marvelous decides turn about is fairplay, giving Bruner a heads up before tossing in his cane! "What about this then King!?" "Provokation." "Of course." Bruner is caught by surprise and doesn't actually catch the cane, but it bounces off his shoulder and right at his feet. The bigman has no problem then in simply bending down and retrieving it... *SMACK!* ...except the dropkick to the ear that Maddix delivers! Bruner drops to one knee, shaking out the cobwebs as Landon notices the cane... and smiles. "I think Landon has been provoked!" "Wa... TURN AROUND SEXTON! TURN AROUND" But King's cries fall on deaf ears, Hardcastle still distracted as Landon picks up the cane... *KE-RACK!* ...AND SNAPS IT CLEAN IN TWO OVER MISTER BRUNER'S CRANIUM!!!! "OOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!" Bruner remains on one knee somehow, but Maddix soon remedies that, tossing aside one half of the splintered cane and hitting the ropes for the SHINING WIZAAAAAAAAARD~! Bruner is finally down and so is Megan, Marvelous unable to do anything without his cane as Hardcastle dives into position... ONE! TWO! THREEEEE!!! "Oh what the fu..." "YYYYEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!" *DINGDINGDING!* Landon wastes no time in scurrying out of the ring and into the arms of Megan, helping her out of the fuming Sir Marvelous' path as he limps over in mid-fit! The SWF's Power Couple smirk away as Marvelous continues to lose it, kicking at the ring skirt and thin air in a rage. "Here is your winner... LANDON "LA CUCARACHA" MMMAAAAAADDIIIIIIIIXXXXXX!!" "YYYYEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!" King is strangely quiet as Maddix and Megan have the distinct look of being lucky to survive, helping each other up the ramp as "Personal Jesus" plays in the background. "Landon Maddix, rolls on! We are out of time on Storm... from The Suicide King, we'll see you next week!" Smartmarks Wrestling Federation 2007 © A Superior One Production Raising Workrate by Rushing Endings To Meet Deadlines

“You know, this is really starting to become an irritant.” An agitated mysterious voice echoes in a lone office, which just happens to have the shades pulled down. Rather or not the darkness gives the office a sinister design or not doesn’t matter due to the fact that the room doesn’t belong to Satan. “Joseph Peters.” Close enough though. Rocking back in his chair gingerly, peaking out over his desk at a client he is all too familiar with, Mr. Peters can’t help, but smile. “Irritant? If you weren’t in this office at this time, you wouldn’t even be in this federation anymore. Your name would be wiped away from the organization and whatever legacy you wish to be left behind would burn away, along with your employment.” Joseph Peters explain before continuing, “Of course, I should have known better than to think you would lose to Matt Myers. Then again he did give you quite the scare now didn’t he Zyon?” Sitting opposite the Head of the SWF, the Unique Youth slouches in the comforting of his chair, as well as the comfort in knowing he still has a job. “He was a lot tougher than I gave him credit for. Matheson really is turning him around, Myers if finally getting his shot, something he deserves. Yet, all I get is frequent trips to your office, which seems like a gigantic waste of time to me. Couldn’t you just have Tom deal with me?” Chuckling, the notorious Peters’ responds, “First, that’s Mr. Flesher to you. Second, like I have told you before, I want to see you fail. Sure, you could go out tonight and lose to JJ and you may very well keep your job, but sooner or later you are going to crack under the pressure, and I want to be the first person you see when it happens. I guess you should think of yourself as special.” Now it’s Zyon’s turn to respond, “Special? Special! Well if I’m so special then why do I have to deal with JJ Johnson in a Pure Rules match? This is Storm, not a PPV Main Event. Just last week I had to battle Matt Myers in a hardcore match, those are the type of matches you put special people in. I departed from the Hardcore Division long ago, and my beef with JJ is all but finished. I mean…” “Kid, what are you on about now?” Peters interrupts. “What am I on about? Look, you know what I want. Are the hints not clear enough? Matt Myers, JJ Johnson, and hell even Gabriel Drake aren’t what I want at this particular time. I want one man…or should I say one trickster. Make it happen.” “…No.” And this sends Zyon off the deep end, “WHY THE FUCK NOT!!!” “Well for one you spoiled brat, I’m the boss and you will do what you are told. And two there are others in your spot, kid. You’ll just have to wait your turn.” Rising from his feet furiously, Zyon hollers while in mid turn, “I don’t have to wait for anyone or anything. I’m sick of waiting. I’m not your toy. I’m not your experiment. I will do what I want…and I’m….” And at that moment, Zyon realizes who is ahead of him in line. And they are huge. Really huge. Too damn huge to mess with at this point in time. “Oh well, I see Tom…Mr. Flesher has found an executioner for Stephens. Well I guess I’ll see myself out like always.” … Peters with a massive grin speaks to the other figure in the room, “You show up at the perfect times. Storm should be starting in about an hour, I hope for another ground breaking show tonight.” Cause to be frank that is all that man cares about.

“Well, King,” Mak Francis’ voice is heard as the Seattle crowd gears up for one half of their main event for the evening, “we’ve seen a hardcore match, we’ve seen a pure match, and we’ve seen a tag match…now it is time for a TITLE MATCH!” “And isn’t it just so lucky for us that it’s the same (bleep)ing thing we saw last week!?” The King Of Hearts’ sarcasm and censored language is duly noted by the millions watching in their homes around the world, but the thousands in attendance just have a few key words on their mind… “COME AND ‘AVE A GO IF YOU THINK YER ‘ARD ENOUGH!” “COME AND ‘AVE A GO IF YOU THINK YER ‘ARD ENOUGH!” The Key Arena becomes brighter than the Electrical Light Parade as Boy Sets Fire erupts, no pun intended, throughout the entire building, almost being drowned out by the Northwestern fans… “Toooooooxx-ic…” “Toooooooxx-ic…” “The crowd is on their feet and they know what’s coming next…” “PREPARE TO BE PROVED WRONG…” “Tooooooooooooooooooooooxx-ic…” “Tooooooooooooooooooooooxx-ic…” “Tooooooooooooooooooooooxx-ic…” BOOOOOM!!! Red pyrotechnics erupt from around the stage as Michael Stephens steps out into the limelight, his tag team championship glistening from a good pre-match polishing, his eyes scanning the arena crowd as Funyon begins his announcement… “Ladies and Gentlemen…the following contest is scheduled for ONE FALL and is for the INTERNATIONAL CHAMPIONSHIP!! Introducing first, making his way down the aisle…from Nottingham in the United Kingdom…representing THE GALACTICOS…” …for better or for worse… “…weighing in at two-hundred-and-eighteen pounds…he is…MICHAEL STEPHENS!!” “And would you look at those eyes, King.” Francis’ tone is not as excited as usual, as he can see the glare the former World Champion is giving toward the cameras, knowing that somewhere in the building Alan Clark is looking on… ’I never thought this could be me, I guess you never do until it’s happening to you Like all the fun turns into shame And all the “could-have-beens” rearrange…’ “Well would you be in a good mood if you realized that you never deserved what was given to you? He’s having it all taken away, one week at a time, by Tom Flesher…and after last week you can bet Alan Clark has been hearing every non-Disney-like phrase in existence out of the mouth of the Superior One…” the King continues as Stephens finally hits ringside, slowly removing his jacket and t-shirt from off his shoulders and handing them away, taking a moment to look down at his waist - at the one championship he has left – before also pulling it off and handing it away as well. “Please Stand Clear of the Ring. Por favor Soporte Claro del Anillo….” “Boooooooooooooooooooooo!!” “…For the Safety and Comfort of Others…No Smoking Please. Para la Seguridad Y la Comodidad de Otras... El Ningún Fumar Por favor….” Stephens, still standing next to the ring, quickly turns back toward the curtain, a scowl present on his usual grinning face as he awaits his opponent… …for better or for worse… The Walt Disney Company and the Smartmarks Wrestling Federation are proud to present…your International Champion…” “Think of the presents you've brought Any merry little thought Think of Christmas, think of snow Think of sleigh bells Here we go! Like a reindeer in the sky You can fly! You can fly! You can fly! You can fly!” “Oh no…” “LOOK, KING!” Francis’ eyes the champion first, as pixie dust falls from the ceiling the crowd looks skyward, only to find Alan Clark himself flying down from the rafters high above! “What in the (bleep)…” The Suicide King can be heard rummaging for his flask as Michael Stephens to looks to the ceiling as Walter Reynolds appears from backstage alone, making his way to the ring to join his business partner. “And…introducing his opponent…flying down to the ring,” Funyon almost giggles, “representing Disneyland and being accompanied by Walter Reynolds…he weighs in at two-hundred-twenty-five pounds and is YOUR S-W-F INTERNATIONAL CHAMPION....the Happiest Guy On Earth…ALAAAAAAAN CLAAAAAAAARK!” Alan touches down just as Funyon finishes his announcement, the sounds of the Mellomen almost being drowned out by the Seattle’s SWF fans… “Boooooooooooooooooooo!!” Alan releases himself from his harness as Michael Stephens enters the ring, referee Sexton Hardcastle keeping the two men away from each other as Alan brushes his green shirt and shorts free of pixie dust and hands his championship belt away, both men’s eyes fixating on it as Hardcastle raises it to the sky. Ding Ding Ding!!! “And here we go! Round Two!” Francis calls as Hardcastle hands the belt away and the bell sounds off, neither the referee nor the champion as prepared for the British bullet that comes barreling across the ring, his right arm swinging out and upward with sheer brute force, almost lifting Alan Clark back off his feet with a hard European uppercut! “And that can not make the neck of Clark feel any better!” Alan hits the ropes, a burst of dust flying from his shoulders as Stephens follows-up with a clothesline that knocks Alan heels over head and out of the ring to the floor!! “Yeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaah!!!” “No! No!” King, as usual, doesn’t seem to agree with the sold-out crowd, but as Alan tries to regain his bearings on the outside, Stephens is heading to the opposite side of the ring and hitting the ropes with a burst of speed… “High Risk COMING UP!” Francis yells as Alan looks into the ring just as Stephens tries to go airborne, throwing his body to the right and out of the landing zone… …but Stephens is still in the ring! “CATALOG---NO!! MY GOD!” The crowd seemed ready for the patented poses of Michael Stephens, but the Sensation had other plans as he dives between the ropes and unceremoniously tackles Alan Clark down! “Yeeeeeeeeeaaaah!” “LET’S GO STE-PHENS!” “LET’S GO STE-PHENS!” The familiar chants begin as Hardcastle looks on from in the ring, beginning his count as Stephens stands back to his feet and begins putting the boots to Alan’s head and neck, the tag team champion keeping his eyes on Walter Reynolds around the corner of the ring, who looks to want nothing to do to the angered former main eventer… …for better or for worse… “One!” “Two!” Alan tries his best to shield his head, but for every second his hands are around his neck the boots of Stephens travel southward, keeping Clark pinned against the apron as he releases even more of his frustration… “You have to wonder what is going through Michael Stephens head, King…” Francis remarks as Hardcastle continues to count, “Is he looking at Alan Clark on the floor there? Is he looking at Janus? Is he looking at Tom Flesher? Is he looking…is he looking at Landon Maddix?” “Three!” “I don’t care if he’s looking at Ted Flink, he can’t win the match outside the ring. I’m really hoping he can’t win it in the ring either, but Alan Clark isn’t the most consistent performer…must be where that goofy Barbosa gets it from…” mutters the King as Stephens finally has had enough of walking all over the International champion and leans down, pulling Clark up to his feet and giving the camera a view of the Happiest Guy On Earth, a small trickle of blood beginning to drip down the Disney-sponsored superstar’s face as Stephens throws Alan into the ring before Hardcastle’s count can get any higher. “Did you see that, the boots of Michael Stephens have busted open Alan Clark!” “…looks like a papercut.” The Suicide King might have a point, but as Alan tries to get back to his feet in the ring he is met by another hard kick from Stephens, the rubber from the bottom of his right boot scraping even more skin away from Clark’s forehead and bringing more crimson to the surface. “LET’S GO STE-PHENS!” “LET’S GO STE-PHENS!” “LET’S GO STE-PHENS!” The crowd continues to show their support as Stephens backs away from his opponent, but only at the insistence of Sexton Hardcastle who bends down to check on the condition of the champion… …but his hand is batted away! …for better or for worse… Hardcastle recoils and throws a verbal warning out to Clark as the Happiest Guy On Earth rolls his body around and gets to his knees, his left hand moving behind his head and pulling his ponytail out of it’s restraints and giving Stephens an eyeful of his opponent’s slightly bloody face… …smiling. SMACK! “What a vicious smack to Alan Clark!” the sound reverberates as Michael Stephens shows his opponent exactly what he thinks of his cheerful demeanor, only for Alan’s right hand to simply reach up to the top rope and begin to pull his body back up, his eyes staring straight into those of the former World Champion’s... “You’re worthless, Mike!” Alan’s voice can be heard in the ringside camera, “you deserve this.” The taunting seems to get underneath the Sensation’s skin, as the feisty Briton snaps his arm back and whips it around, the corner of his elbow cracking off of Clark’s jaw and violently snapping his head into his shoulder. “These fans don’t carry about Michael Stephens anymore…” Alan’s head comes back, and his smile is still very present. “It’s all about Landon Maddix now…” “OOOMPH!!” THUD!! “UNFINISHED BUSINESS!” cries the Franchise as Alan takes a hard kick to the gut, doubling him over and putting him in prime position to be driven straight down into the canvas by the elbow of Stephens; planting his face and no doubt drawing even more blood. A small stain can be seen as Alan rolls to his back, only to suddenly find himself pinned down to the mat… One! Two! NO!! “I don’t think so, Michael…” Alan can be heard still speaking, his own private monologue to Stephens going out over the camera’s microphone and to everyone watching. The fans in the arena can only see the International Champion’s mouth move as he rolls to his knees and lunges for the barely-standing Stephens, catching him around the waist and dragging him down to the canvas. “This isn’t some talk show. He needs to keep focused or Stephens is just going to beat him again! And you know Tom Flesher—“ “I think ‘focus’ is the key word, the focus of Stephens can’t be all on Alan Clark right now, maybe on his words, but the more Alan talks, the more it seems to be affecting Mike. Alan was never one to turn down some mind games…” Francis does indeed speak the truth as Alan continues to jaw-jack as he holds Michael down, not exactly pinning him to the mat, but holding him in a waistlock nonetheless, squeezing with as much force as he can as he works his lips up towards the ear of Stephens, but there are not sweet-nothings being exchanged as Stephens lays in to Clark’s body with a barrage of forearms and elbows... …but Clark holds steady, squeezing into Stephens ribs and continuing to talk, the eyes of Stephens almost bugging out of his head, not from pain, but from the words coming from his opponent’s mouth. Whether it’s an annoying or sadly sobering one-sided conversation is anyone’s guess, as Michael keeps his lips sealed except to call for Hardcastle to break the hold as his left hand wraps around the bottom rope… “One!” “Two!” “Three!” “Four!” “Four World Championships, Stephens! FOUR!” Alan can be heard yelling at his challenger as he finally lets go of his hold, standing back up with the smile still plastered to his face as Michael sucks back some wind, re-filling his lungs as Clark backs away, only at Hardcastle’s insistence, “Get used it, people! It’s never going to be any higher!” his shout is aimed at the crowd, which seems to be split in a massive attack of boos and jeers and two very familiar chants… “Tooooooooooooxx-ic!” “LET’S GO STE-PHENS!” “Tooooooooooooxx-ic!” “LET’S GO STE-PHENS!” “You know, King, I can’t even tell if this was Alan Clark’s own idea or if someone like Tom Flesher got into his ear before this match. We heard talk that a win here for Clark might get him a shot at Gabriel Drake before From The Fire, and you know that can not sit well with his opponent in that ring tonight!” “How dare you even THINK that Flesher would involve himself with that fool! You think he’d look for Alan Clark, that dumb Disney freak, to stop Michael Stephens when he has guys in the back like Janus sipping coffee? He could have put Stephens against Wild & Dangerous! They want the one belt that limey has left and they would have jumped at a chance to rip him apart without the NEW face of the company around.” It is hard to tell whether or not the Suicide King was being sarcastic, but no-one has time to think as Stephens is able to get back to his feet and Hardcastle moves away… SMACK! “Boooooooooooooooo!!!” …and Michael Stephens is caught almost immediately by a devastating kick from Clark, the International champion picking his perfect opportunity to strike and put his opponent back down on the mat. Before Stephens can get up, and before Sexton Hardcastle can even react, Alan too drops down to his knees, grabbing a clump of Michael’s hair and pushing his face down into the canvas all the while thrashing it back and forth.. As the ringside camera moves in, Alan seems to welcome its presence, using the moment to yell down into Stephens’ ears, and out into the world, once again. “Now you know what it feels like to see someone else on TOP! THIS IS WHAT IT FEELS LIKE!” and with a grunt, Alan pulls Stephens up by the hair and then pushes down hard, slamming the face of the former world champion into the mat before standing up and walking away, leaving the camera to zoom in on the pain in Michael’s eyes as Hardcastle tries to rationalize with Clark on the other side of the ring. “If Alan Clark is not careful he might have a very serious problem on his hands. Michael Stephens has not been the most even-keeled, lately…” “Even-keeled? Thanks to Tom Flesher the Toxxic Boat is sinking and I, for one, am thankful!” The Suicide King’s cheers of joy are overshadowed by the Key Arena crowd, however, as their voices chime out in unison and grow louder and louder with each passing second as Michael Stephens begins to pull himself back up to his feet in the corner. “LET’S GO STE-PHENS!” “LET’S GO SPE-PHENS!” “LET’S GO STE-PHENS!” Alan Clark can do little but simply smile to the fans, the simple facial expression doing more to egg them on than any slap to the face or enziguri ever could. Wait…enziguri? “WRECK OF THE MISS TILLY!” The Franchise lets the world know what is already apparent, as Alan Clark cartwheels through the ring (more out of annoyance than showmanship) and leaps into the air, almost decapitating his opponent who could not slip away in time…. “Yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!!!” “No!” “Stephens does NOT go down!” The kick shakes around the skull of the Sensation, but as Alan falls to the mat he is left prone for Michael Stephens to lean down and pull the arms behind Alan’s back, looking to do this week exactly what he did last week… …for better or for worse… “RTF! RTF!” The crowd explodes in cheers once again as Alan throws his weight backwards with as much force as can, sandwiching Stephens in the corner and breaking the hold before it can be fully locked on… “No! Alan was able to escape! And this crowd is not happy!” “Booooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!” WHAM! “CUTTING IN LINE!” This time it is the Suicide King who yells as Alan’s freed arms move up and around the neck of the stunned Michael Stephens, dragging him out and down into the canvas with his signature neckbreaker! “This is it! This is it!” One! Two! Three!! “Yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!!!!” “Stephens kicks out! Stephens kicked out and…and…” Francis is at a lose for words as Alan stands, holding two of his fingers out and over the face of his opponent, as if to show him just how close his was to defeat. “…and Alan is letting Michael Stephens know exactly how close that was!” “Come on, Clark! Stop with the games!” chastises the King as Alan pulls Stephens up by the hair against the wishes of the referee, and probably against the wishes of Mike himself, before wrapping his hand around his wrist and whipping him across the ring. As the two men separate Alan also falls back into the opposite ropes, giving both men a head of steam as they race to collide in the center of the ring… “SOCCER TACKLE!! “NO!!” “OOOMPH!” “YES!” ”Yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!” “Alan Clark saw it coming and tried to jump up and out of the way, only for Stephens to change his plan and get a little extra height, catching the champ square in the kneecaps and sending him down face-first into the canvas beloWii!” The replay shows the fall, as Alan’s body flails and flips forward from the lower-body shot, planting him at a near forty-five-degree angle in the ring. Stephens is up to his feet in a flash, the adrenaline pumping as he wastes no time in lifting Alan back up to his feet, giving the back of his head a jolly good elbow before turning him around looking him straight in the eyes… CRACK! “Ew, did you hear that….” “What a headbutt there by Stephens! CRACK! And ANOTHER!” The blood from Alan’s forehead flows much more easily now, but Stephens seems prepared, as he turns toward the sold-out crowd and yells out one simple question… “Can I have someone’s shirt?!” “My god! This is a family show! TV-G! Remember!” The Suicide King almost faints as a small wave of shirts, male and female alike, come flying in from the hard camera side of the arena, and with his right hand still gripping the back of Alan’s hair he drags him to the side of the ring and pulls a shirt off the mat, using it to wipe away the blood on Alan’s face before tossing it into the corner. “I don’t think so, bloody boy.” Stephens finally starts to talk back to Clark, who still does not completely have his wits about him (although does he ever?) before turning him back around and wrapping his arms around Alan’s neck, quickly pulling down and falling into a seated position, jarring the spine of the International Champion with a perfectly executed hangman’s neckbreaker. “Michael Stephens knows what that blood can be used for, and he wasn’t about to become a victim of that…that disgusting and blinding spray we have seen used on everyone from Todd Royal to Thugg to Akira Kaibatsu over the years…but now look at this!” Francis’ call comes as Stephens leaves Alan propped up and rolls his body around, swiftly wrapping his legs through Alan’s arms and locking them around his neck, effectively chaining the sponsored superstar to the mat with a modified full nelson! “What the hell is up with that!? You’d never see Tom Flesher doing something that silly! “Stephens is not Tom Flesher, King…” “You’ve got that right…” “But he has been working the shoulders and the neck every chance he’s gotten for the past two weeks, and this has to be sending a burning all through Alan’s body right now!” The crowd stays behind their hero as he fights to keep Alan subdued, but as he reaches to grab at Clark’s hands and put even more pressure into the hold he finds the arms flailing forward, almost as if he is trying to grab the ropes that are still a few feet from his fingertips. “And I don’t think the ropes are going to get any closer from that position!” Francis continues, but even with Hardcastle standing over his shoulder and asking for submission Alan fights, not wanting to give up two weeks in a row and hand over the championship belt he has carried with him for the past two months. “GRAAAAAAAAAAAH!” The ring-side camera shows Alan’s once-more bleeding face as he lets out a primal grunt, heaving his body forward as he twists and torques his own body, pulling the two hundred pounds of Michael Stephens with him as he works to get his legs back underneath his upper-body… “Michael Stephens is trying to hold on, but outside of his own body weight there is nothing holding Alan Clark down!” “…maybe his talent…” adds the King as Alan manages to pull himself up to his knees and push all of his body up, slowly but surely lifting himself to his feet as Michael Stephens hangs on for dear life, his legs still locked in the full nelson as he finds himself upside down, his eyes growing wider by the second as he realizes the predicament he has gotten himself into. …for better or for worse… “Look at that! Look at that! Alan Clark is up and now Michael Stephens is the one that is TRAPPED!!” The crowd drops to silence as they wait to see what exactly can be done, with Clark hunched over, shifting the weight off his shoulders and to his lower back as Hardcastle watches on, unsure of how to proceed as neither man has touched the ropes to call for a break in the hold. With the pain somewhat eleviated, Alan throws his body into a bit of a spin, sending Stephens arms flailing outward from the g-forces at play, only to just as quickly slow himself up and throw himself backwards, once again sandwiching his opponent between his own body and the turnbuckles, only this time Michael catches the bottom turnbuckle upside-down and face-first. ”Booooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!} “I don’t know whether to call that A Whole New Whirl or what, but I can definitely say it’s an effective way to get someone off your back…” remarks the Franchise as the crowd’s amplitude ramps back up almost immediately, with Alan keeping all of his weight on Stephens’ trapped body until he frees his arms. Hardcastle tries calling for a break until finally Clark simply steps away from the corner, dropping Stephens down to the mat and almost straight onto the top of his head. “No kidding, I wish I could do that to you sometimes…” The Suicide King seems to forget the non-working nature of his partner’s legs as Alan leans down to lift Stephens back up, only to notice the bloody shirt that had been tossed into the corner moments ago. In a cartoon world, one might be able to see a lightbulb pop on over Alan’s head as he turns toward his bodyguard on the outside of the ring… “WALTER! WALTER!” Alan motions to his bodyguard, who looks to have no idea what is going on, but the first step he makes toward the action he is intercepted by Hardcastle, who leans his body outside of the ropes and points for Reynolds to back away, giving Alan the few precious seconds he needed to take the shirt in one hand and Stephens head in the other, lifting him up to his feet and making sure the former world champion gets a good look at what his future is about to be… …for better or for worse… “Oh no! I’m gonna be sick…” “Alan Clark is going to rub that bloody shirt right in Michael Stephens’ face!” Francis calls, but as Hardcastle turns back toward the ring Alan lunges, only for the arm of Michael Stephens to knock the shirt away… …and follow with a hard uppercut! “HE MISSED! HE…” SMAAACK!! ”Yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!!! “STEPHENSKICK!” the gunshot-like sound echoes through the arena as Alan catches the right boot of Michael Stephens square in the jaw, the kick sending him spinning as the Sensation follows up, not even letting Clark hit the ground before he wraps his right arm around his neck in a ¾ facelock and aims himself toward the corner…looking to put the ka-bosh on both Tom Flesher’s plans and Alan Clark’s championship reign… “…SUNNY IN ENGLAND!” “NO!!” The Suicide King happily adds as Alan, still somewhat dazed, gets his hands up and shoves forward…pushing Stephens straight for the turnbuckle. “Yes! Great counter!” “Stephens hit the brakes!” this time the Franchise jumps in, only for Stephens turn back around and into the line of fire… “PFFFFFFFFFFFFT!” “BLOODMIST!!” “NOOOO!! Stephens ducked out of the way! He knew it was coming!” Stephens is able to barely avoid the possibly Clark-disqualifying mist, but his ducking and dodging spins him back around in the corner, his attention diverted long enough for Alan to grab Mike’s arms from behind and pull him out into the center of the ring… “RTF! ALAN CLARK WITH THE RTF!” But instead of simply dropping down and using his legs as a vice, Alan throws his right leg in front of Stephens and sweeps backwards, tripping his opponent up and slamming him down chest-first into the mat! “Stephens is down now, but Clark still has that double chickenwing applied!” “You can’t pin a man who’s on his stomach, Mak!” The Suicide King’s quote is the truth, but as the sold-out crowd watches on, Alan locks his hands and straddles the back of Stephens, only to throw himself forward in a somersault, landing on his feet with his back arched, sending everyone watching into a total frenzy… “BITTERSWEET!” Francis yells out the name of the move he made famous, a move that is currently being employed by a guy wearing all green and bleeding from the forehead, “Alan Clark once called that the Panic Attack, and that is exactly what every Michael Stephens fan is experiencing right now!” “(Bleep) the fans, Francis! Stephens is trapped!” …and if a camera could get in close enough to the action they would hear Alan Clark speaking once again to Michael Stephens as he holds him down in the center of the ring… ”I’ve beaten Silent…” “He’s got nowhere to go!” “I’ve beaten Thugg…” “Hardcastle is checking for a submission!” “…I’ve beaten Landon Maddix…” “He’s gonna tap! He’s got too!” ”…I’ve beaten YOU…” Ding Ding Ding!! …for better or for worse… “Ladies and Gentlemen…” Funyon’s voice can be heard over the silenced crowd as Alan Clark releases the hold and rolls toward the outside of the ring, “the winner of this match by SUBMISSION and STILL S-W-F INTERNATIONAL CHAMPION… ALAAAAAN CLAAAAARK!!” Booooooooooooooooooooooooooo!! “He’s done it, my god, King, he’s done it!!” Mak Francis’s voice echoes out through the arena as the crowd’s volume rises once again, Walter reaching Alan on the ramp with the title, pixie dust falling and “You Can Fly!” playing, as the two men head for the back and leave Michael Stephens alone in the ring, no doubt wondering exactly what this means for his future in the SWF… …for better or for worse…

FADE IN… “This is Ben Hardy here,” begins the SWF’s own backstage sleuth, “and I’m with the current SWF World Heavyweight Champion… Gabriel Drake who has requested this interview time to-” “-That’s enough talking, Hardy, I can take it from here.” Drake interrupts his face impassive for the moment. His dark hair, highlighted with white streaks falls like a curtain over his eyes. “I’ve got a response to Maddix’s proclamation about staying focused on nothing but my title…” Ben readjusts the microphone, raising up high enough for the six feet four inch Drake, whose imposing figure looms to his right. Surprisingly, the Beast has the World Title belt slung over his shoulder instead of where it normally lies around his waist. “I bet you felt powerful, standing out there on the House of Marvelous. I bet you reveled in the opportunity to try and use your little power ploy on me. Payback for what I did to you before our Genesis match, right? Ah, the games we mortals play and you are mortal, Landon. You bleed just like everyone else—better in fact, if I do say so myself. I admit I was a bit… upset, by the fact that you interjected yourself into business that had absolutely nothing to fuckin’ do with you!” Gabe slows down his breathing and then shakes the hair out of his eyes. “…But like you said, it’s never been personal between us. You acted a bit recklessly and that’s why I had to stuff your face through a goddamn television monitor and drag your bloodied broken body to the ring.” A ghost of a smile crosses Drake’s face… “But you did a brave thing, Landon. You stepped to the plate for a friend and I commend you for that. Once upon a time I stepped to the plate for a friend and ended up in a Cage just like you did. And at Genesis, you were able to escape the Cage with your life just like me. A kamikaze dive from Landon Maddix through a Cage door gave me my first loss in the SWF!” The World Champ exclaims with a flourish, readjusting his belt for effort. “Oh yes, you did win Landon, but not without a price. A price exacted from each and every opponent who dares to step into a fuckin’ ring with me! Because I want everyone to know the pain I felt! The price I paid for trusting someone I thought was my friend…” The Beast trails off, but only for a second before his rant continues. “I bet you see it already, but have just brushed it off. Those awkward pauses and suspicious glances during light conversations about you being a two time Clusterfuck winner. He’s the reason I’m not worried. Your friend, Mike, he doesn’t play well with others and he doesn’t take kindly to not being the focus of everything. There are no mind games here, Maddix, just the truth. Almost a year ago, you two were at each others throats and the only reason he tolerates you now is because he hasn’t figured out how to screw you over yet. You can bet he’ll have a plan to take your spot… if you’re even allowed to make it to From the Fire.” Drake pauses, letting the words sink in as his tousled hair shields his face. “This time it won’t be me you have to worry about. You saw it happen at the Clusterfuck right before your eyes, but I bet you don’t want to really believe it. So I’m just going to sit back, watch and wait until you let him stab you in the back. Just like he’s done to every other person he’s ever been associated with.” Snatching the microphone away from Hardy, the World Champ shoves him out of the picture. Then, signaling to Gus that he wants a close up, Drake cold hazel eyes seemingly pierce through the camera. Chuckling lowly, Gabriel sweeps the hair from his face again. “You got a plan for that, Landon?” Gabe smiles cruelly into the camera as we: FADE…

FADE IN… Insane Luchador horribly fatigued after the Texas Tornado Three Way remains in the ring, soaking in the standing ovation he receives due to his ambitious nature to please the fans while staying true to himself. He’s not the best technician or high flyer, and his offense may be a bit sloppy, but the Ill One isn’t afraid to spill his blood in the name of entertainment. Tonight was no different as the SWF veteran who has paid his dues salutes the crowd one last time and they respond in kind… “YEEEEAAAAHHHH!!!” …Proving that Andrew Rickmen is their Psychotic Hero. Turning to exit the ring, the Insane Luchador is ignorant to the action behind him as the audience gasps in anticipation as a second figure joins him in the ring. Covering his face with under the shadow of a black hood, the mysterious civilian calmly struts over to the unaware veteran, non-chalantly tapping him on the shoulder. *BANG!!!!* Watching in awe as the Insane Luchador collapses to the canvas face first, the victim of an extraordinary Diamond Cutter, the audience begins to catch on to the shocking proceedings, as does Mak. “What the hell. There is only one person who uses that style of Ace Crusher that is currently active in the SWF…and that’s…” Peeling back the hood, the mysterious assailant reveals himself to be non other than the Unique Youth, Zyon!!! Ignoring the clattering of noise in the Key Arena, Zyon stares at his fallen adversary who was nothing more than a tired victim to the BIG SHOT! Casually stepping over the man he sneaked attacked; the Unique Youth exits the ring with a smug look creeping across his face. “What is the point of this? I don’t understand why Zyon would do that?” Mak is at a loss for words. Retreating up the ramp, Zyon begins to talk trash to the fallen warrior who just finished a previous battle with four other men, and at that moment the Suicide King of all people finds a solution in the chaos. “Well, Zyon did say he would see Insane Luchador later. I guess later was much sooner that we all thought.” … Yeah, much sooner than Insane Luchador thought. Fade.

LA LA, LALALA LALA LALA LA “Well, here come the 6-1 Asia Underground,” Mak praises as “Self Esteem” by The Offspring hits the P.A. “Yeah, maybe they’re technically 6-1, but honestly it feels more like 2-14. It seems like every other Tuesday these two are bickering over how the other one is the reason they suck,” Akira and Cross don’t come alone though; Iron Mike has a chair in hand. “Well, at least he’s smart enough to bring a little hardware to a hardcore match,” King says. “Don’t forget, King, the last time Asia Underground was in a multi-team match, they won the titles in a match of the year candidate,” “Yeah, that was one hell of a title reign…” The fun guitars of The Offspring are soon cut off by the even-more-fun saxaphone that is Yakety Sax, and out come The Insane Luchador and hardcore champion Jimmy The Doom. “I’ll tell you what HAS been one hell of a title reign, Jimmy The Doom is at something like 240 days now,” “And his last defense, mind you, came against the man he teams with tonight. How’s that going to work out?” “I think it’ll be fine,” “EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEVERYBODY KNOWS I’M IN OVER MY HEAD OVER MY HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAD...” “Over My Head (Cable Car)” by the Fray hits the speakers, and a reaction similar to the one Asia Underground got last week roars it’s way all over the key arena, with Oat Toast posterboy Zach Malibu and Middle Ground Calvin Szechstein run through the gate and down the ramp. “The caddilac boys!” Mak shouts, “These guys are my pick to win, I like how flashy Malibu made a martial arts style,” “Alright, let’s just get this show on the road already,” King says. DING DING DING Akira and Cross turn to each other right away, looking to capitalize on a game plan right away. Cross takes his partners arm and whips him into the ropes. Akira jumps up onto the second rope, and flips backwards in mid air, going for a lionsault, connecting with Zach Malibu, who seemed to be watching Akira! “What the hell happened with Zach right there? He’s gotta get his head out of his ass!” “I’d get off the mat first, and then get my head out of my ass, but that’s just me,” King jokes. Kaibatsu gets up and raises his hand to the crowd, showing off his high flying skills against Malibu, which doesn’t go over to well with his partner, Calvin Szechstein. Fortunately for Akira, his partner is still wielding that steel folding chair and goes to town on Cadillac! *SMACK* “Ooh! Cross sends Calvin Szechstein out of the ring with an enormous chair shot!” Iron Mike doesn’t stop there though, he immediately turns to the idle-as-of-yet team of Jimmy The Doom and Insane Luchador. The Suicide Machine takes a big swing at Jimmy The Doom, but Doom ducks. What Jimmy doesn’t realize, however, is that his partner was standing behind him and was just struck with the chair! OHHHHH! Cross isn’t done just yet though. He takes another horizontal swing of the chair at Doom, but Jimmy won’t be struck with the steel. Cross then goes with a rather unconventional strategy, and tosses the chair into Dooms hands. Expecting to be kicked in the face immediately afterwards, Doom sweeps Cross’ feet after making the catch. This proves to be meaningless though, as Akira comes hurdling over his comrade and delivers a powerful Yakuza kick to the chair, and into Doom’s face! YEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH! “Asia Underground are the last team standing in the ring right now!” Mak says, as four fallen wrestlers catch their breaths on the outside of the ring, while Michael Cross and Akira Kaibatsu bask in the glory that has been the opening of this match. Malibu and Szechstein try to quietly open up the ring apron and pull out some weapons, but it’s not so subtle, and Asia Underground see it coming a mile away. Both cruisers run to the ropes, bounce back and baseball slide through the bottom rope, off of the apron…but the Cadillac Boys swiftly dodge them, and Asia Underground thud to the floor! OOOHHHHHHHHHHH! “If Akira and Mike can find any positive in that, at least they’re finally starting to function as a unit,” Mak says. “No. There’s no positive in falling on your ass. There can be a positive in being thrown on your ass, depending upon the thrower and the context of the throw, but falling on your ass has no positives,” “This is a family program, King.” “Nah, Alan Clark isn’t on for at least another 20 minutes,” Malibu and Szechstein go to town on their fallen opponents, throwing them up against the guard rail, stomping them endlessly. Malibu takes charge, directing Cadillac to reach under the apron and pull out a weapon, which turns out to be a trash can lid. Malibu holds Asia Underground’s heads together, and Calvin winds up… CRAAAAACCKK! “Holy shit!” King shouts. It’s not the crack of Akira’s skull we hear, nor the crack of Iron Mike’s forhead, but the cracking sound 6 light tubes make when they strike the crown of a head. “Insane Luchador just saved Asia Underground by nailing Calvin Szechstein with Excalibur!” “What the fuck is IL doing with a sword anyway? Where the hell do you buy a light tube sword? Are there sections of wal-mart I have not been in? And besides, why wouldn’t he just wait a few second for Cadillac to smash their brains in?” Jimmy The Doom picks up where his partner left off and dropkicks Zach Malibu in the back of the head, sending him over the guard rail, leaving the hardcore duo alone with Asia Underground. Akira and Cross aren’t quite as nice as Doom and IL, and turn on the team that just saved their asses, both men running at them and taking them down with matching clotheslines. Akira picks up Doom and disposes of him, throwing him into the guard rail. Cross picks up a few pieces of shattered light tube, and shoves them into IL’s face, making him breath the dust inside the toxic light tube. Akira and Cross realize they don’t have much time, so they operate quickly, throwing IL into the ring, soon following. Akira lifts up the woozy Insane Luchador by the head, wrapping him in a cravate. He runs up the turnbuckle, and waits on top. Cross positions himself under the former hardcore champion, and Akira flips backwards, as Cross powerbombs him! YEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!! ONEEEE! TWOOOO! THREEE! DING DING DING! “Asia Underground cannot be stopped…We also might want to get IL checked out after that light tube to the face…” “It’s almost un-fair, Mak. We need to get them in a longer match,” King complains, as storm fades to the next segment,