Ace309

Don't mind Toxxic. He's a bit invested in his character.

I would like to remidn people that, considering we're a subforum, we can ban people from posting in the SWF forums without banning them from the boards. That is, we can shut you up and still allow you to write actively. That is, no one is safe because of card position.

... shit, are we supposed to know this? Or is it his Witness Protection birthday, with the real one classified? Either way, happy birthday!

Because I hate you. Seriously, I had things I needed to do, and while I could have wedged in a tag match or two, or extended the markers, I didn't want to have the sort of card that go4es on forever. Well, moreso.

... BIZARRO MATCHES!

I've got a pair of tannish sneakers with maroon stripes, which sound (and are) hideous but I get compliments on them for reasons that I can't fathom. I also wear brown Doc oxfords and black Doc wingtips.

Not to nitpick, but criminally, he'd have to prove beyond a reasonable doubt, and civilly it would just have to weigh more heavily in his favor (preponderance of the evidence). Keep in mind as well that the CSI Effect is at play here - in real life, the evidence doesn't need to be perfectly placed, incontrovertible, etc. Hypothetically, JBL's quote from the article, Meanie's testimony and two or three guys in the brawl and backstage testifying that JBL hadn't "come down" from his character would probably be enough to prove recklessness (knowledge of a risk of committing a crime and conscious disregard of that risk), which is sufficient intent for MPC (criminal) assault.

Spike, you're not fucking funny right now.

The tantrums, the petty in-fighting and the general bitchiness have pissed me off. If you don't want me to book, you can just tell me you don't want me to book and if the public opinion goes against me then I'll happily retire and let someone else deal with the bullshit. I don't want to, since I generally enjoy the fed, but the shit has been knee-deep lately and it's making me question whether facilitating your angles is worth my time. The simplest solution I've come up with is to leave the people who piss and moan and not much else off my cards, but then I run the risk of hurting innocent people who happen to be working with the problem children, and of the problem children bitching regardless. That is, I'm not sure it solves anything. So, seriously, just tell me what to do to get the pissing, moaning, whining and general jack-assery to stop, or tell me to hang it up and quit booking. I would, since it's vaguely on-topic, like to take this opportunity to say that putting up a fuss about on-boards bitching does sometimes work. Wildchild responded to such a request on my part and has been a pleasure to work with since. It doesn't seem to be working for many of the rest of you.

I would just like to fucking remind everyone that my fucking booking is not only fucking solid and generally received as fucking brilliant, but also, for the most part, fucking unin-fucking-formed. If you have a fucking angle you want me to support, you have got to fucking tell me the fuck about it. Otherwise, I will apply fucking logic to my fucking booking and you will see things like the fucking Tag Team Champions defending against the fucking team they fucking lost to on the previous fucking show. Why? Because it fucking makes fucking sense. Further, if you have a fucking problem with my fucking booking, send me a fucking PM instead of throwing a fucking tantrum and pulling the fucking "Okay, I'm no-showing" maneuver, which is quite fucking reminiscent of taking your fucking ball and going the fuck home. If you're this fucking unhappy with the fucking booking, consider informing Creative fucking Control as to your fucking desires and we will try damn fucking hard to fulfill them. As I recall, Martial Law fucking requested Wild and Dangerous several fucking times when Wild and Dangerous held the titles, and you may understand why it is now fucking confusing and fucking frustrating that you don't want to fucking write against them. I fucking swear, some of you are so fucking unhappy about the fucking booking that I wish you'd fucking retire so I wouldn't have to fucking hear it anymore, except that so many of the fucking retirees hang out to fucking fight with the fucking writers. I hope my fucking frustration is fucking clear. Regards, TMF

Bizzump.

Back on topic, I've been liking Zyon's work. This is a nice, solid piece that takes a tack I can see anyone writing on, but few people actually do. I'm pleased to see it, since it seems especially appropriate for the Zyon character. Solid work.

Criminally, yes, he'd need a prosecutor to approve the charges. Civilly, no, of course not. His lawyer would handle the plaintiff's case. Meanie's injury was fairly grotesque. Having seen pictures of Meanie after he was tended to and not the actual video, I'd say that I feel confident there was actual intent to injure. Proving it, on the other hand... And, of course, it's possible that a minor injury yielded really, really good pictures. Personally, I don't think he has anything to gain by suing. By the letters, the case is there, just as it was (although much more clearly) with the Marty McSorley incident, but there's just no real upside for it. The civil damages if any would be low, and a criminal prosecution just isn't going to happen. Meanie would end up with a moral victory at best, and even that would be far from unanimous - you'd end up with even more in the "He's just a pussy" crowd.

The question of whether he "should" pursue it or not aside, Meanie's probably got a relatively strong black-letter criminal case. I don't know what the laws are like in New York, but the Model Penal Code definition of assault involves purposeful, knowing or reckless causation of bodily injury to another. Bradshaw acted purposefully - he did what he did with full awareness that Meanie wasn't expecting to be stiffed, and he did it to injure him. I'm assuming that, while grotesque, there was no danger of death or serious bodily injury (ie, that JBL didn't commit reckless endangerment). Of course, this might fall under the MPC's exception of "a fight or scuffle entered into by mutual consent," which would mitigate it to a petty misdemeanor. The major obstacles to this sort of prosecution would be political - the prosecutor, especially a Manhattan prosecutor, is unlikely to waste his time on a misdemeanor case that would be unpopular (one wrestler assaulting another would just cause a lot of the constituency to roll their eyes). Along the same vein, go ahead - convince a bunch of jurors that a wrestler didn't expect to be assaulted. Jurors who aren't wrestling fans, much less members of the so-called IWC, aren't going to buy it - they'll nullify faster than you can say "wasted taxpayer dollars." You're also going to have trouble proving intent. Even if the jurors are open to the possibility that this is assault, I'm not sure whether a video of the incident would show that JBL was throwing harder punches or what have you. As for a civil case, sure, assuming you can convince a jury that Meanie was assaulted, he's due some compensation, but his pro-wrestling history is likely to bring that amount down considerably (because, again, non-wrestling-fan jurors). Hell, he might get the $1 "nominal" award if JBL's lawyer argues that the scars from the staples make him look "tougher." It's a ridiculously risky lawsuit. EDIT: Uh... and, as I always feel the need to say when I make a legally-related post, I'm not a lawyer. I'm not licensed anywhere, and particularly not in the jurisdiction in question. Anyone reading this who wants legal advice really ought to consult an attorney licensed in their jurisdiction.

I'm not sure, really. I keep wanting to say that Jericho's "Break The Walls Down" has the right kind of vibe. I'd consider the Goldberg theme, but that's a bit loaded - while it's got the nice, mechanical sound that goes well with the mat-wrestling piece-by-piece-disassembly style, it's still the Goldberg theme.

Yeah, well, so does Chris Masters.

"Sorry about the running-you-over prank." "Prank?"

Just for the record, I had a great time reading Hawke's match. It was quite accessible, although it seems like he knows what he's doing when it comes to this amateur wrestling stuff.

Not me. I'm buoyant.

Eh, they're just aggressively defending their trademarks. Unnecessary, but hardly unexpected.

The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation presents... SWF SMARKDOWN, JUNE 27TH, 2005, LIVE FROM BUCHAREST NATIONAL STADIUM IN BUCHAREST, ROMANIA! (8:00 PM EST; 5:00 PM PST. Check local listings.) Bucharest National Stadium seats 60,120 people. It is, like many of the other stadia we’ve visited, a track; seats will be placed on the infield, as always. All matches due to their markers by 8 PM Eastern, 7 PM Central, etc. All materials (marked matches, promos, post-puberty [ie, useless] Romanian gymnasts) due to Chuck Woolery by: 10:00 Eastern 9:00 Central 8:00 Mountain 7:00 Pacific MAIN EVENT – THREE-TIME WORLD CHAMPIONS COLLIDE! Toxxic vs. Danny Williams ~ This match is definitely going to be one for the history books, as Toxxic said when he put the idea in Tom Flesher’s head. Toxxic, still looking oddly naked without the SWF World Championship, is reminding everyone how capable and marketable he is; Danny Williams, meanwhile, doesn’t need an excuse to rumble through the main event and crack his opponent’s orbital bones. Really, though, how will fellow 3-time World Champion El Luchadore Magnifico react to this? Rules: Standard. Word Limit: 6000 Send to: Chuck Woolery SUB-MAIN EVENT - TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH Martial Law © vs. Wild and Dangerous ~ It’s only fair – Wild and Dangerous’ team defeated Martial Law’s on Lockdown. Really, it would be silly to make them do anything else to prove they deserve a rematch for the titles they lost to Martial Law. Rules: Standard. Use the tag ropes. Word Limit: 6000 Send to: chirs3 HOLY FLURKING SCHNIT! DID I BOOK THIS? REDUX. Ejiro Fasaki © vs. El Luchadore Magnifico ~ Ordinarily, the SWF World Heavyweight Champion would be main-eventing solo, but… really, Flesher still isn’t convinced that he’s earned it. Ground Zero challenger Johnny Dangerous is above him on this card, for god’s sake… is that a message? In any case, Ejiro bumps down a weight division to take on one of the most dominating World Heavyweight Champions in SWF History, on the Luchadore’s terms. It’s non-title – there’s nothing on the line but pride. Rules: Standard, with cruiserweight addenda – there is a 20-count on the outside, rather than 10, and throwing an opponent over the top rope is a disqualifiable offense. Word Limit: 5000 Send to: janusd ABSOLUTELY NOT HARDCORE CHALLENGE Arch Griffon vs. Zyon © ~ Smarkdown Commissioner Tom Flesher has made no secret of the fact that he harbors a strong personal distaste for the hardcore style of wrestling, and rookie sensation Zyon has made his name (and an impressive winning streak) doing it. Zyon, however, has yet to step into the ring against Arch Griffon, who has a strong amateur wrestling background. Can Zyon maintain his streak one on one? Rules: Standard. Word Limit: 4500 Send to: The Superstar SHOW HIM HOW IT’S DONE - NON-TITLE MATCH “The Dean of Professional Wrestling” Jay Hawke © vs. Randy Myers ~ In the old days, promotions had guys on staff who were called ‘hookers.’ Strong shooters with large arsenals of submission holds, hookers were used to introduce rookies to the business, and occasionally knock the chip off their shoulders. Randy Myers, meet International Champion Jay Hawke. Rules: Standard. Word Limit: 3500 Send to: Ace309 HOSS, MEET STIFF. STIFF, HOSS. Manson vs. Ghost Machine ~ Is he a human or a robot? Is he an angry cowboy or just a stiff son-of-a-bitch? Either way, the fans should pop for this one… and it shouldn’t require much time, as they’ll kill each other before you blink. Rules: Standard. Word Limit: 3500 Send to: Justice LET’S TRY THIS AGAIN Jumpin’ Jack Flash vs. Martin "Big Country" Hunt ~ Flash seems to have had a visa problem and couldn’t make it to Greece. Yes, that’ll do. Let’s give him another chance to wow the crowd as the bottle of Cherry Coke clashes with the bottle of Southern Comfort. Hopefully, neither one shatters. Rules: Standard. Word Limit: 3000 Send to: Chuck Woolery Opening Promo: Smarkdown Commissioner Tom Flesher Plus – A slew of your favorite SWF superstars on this mini-supercard! Pretzler gets the night off because, well, damn. Kid’s been busy.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” says Joseph Peters, as the camera fades in on his office, “this week the SWF mourns the loss of the ‘Insane Luchador,’ Andrew Rickmen. After spending four years as an SWF employee, Mr. Rickmen tragically passed away this week. We ask all SWF fans to remember him, and in lieu of flowers, to contribute to their local Irish-Catholic church.” “Unfortunately,” Peters says, “Mr. Rickmen was reigning as SWF World Cruiserweight Champion at the time of his passing. At this time, the booking committee is discussing the best way to handle these tragic and unexpected circumstances; a decision will be made by the beginning of Smarkdown.” “Thank you, and good night.” The picture fades, leaving a black screen. In the center, a photo of Rickmen in mid-air, executing a plancha, appears. Above it are the words “ANDREW RICKMEN;” below it, “1978-2005; R.I.P.” A few seconds later, the picture once again fades to black. === SWF Lockdown, June 22, 2005. © Riot Act Productions. All rights reserved. The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation: “Raising workrate by typing faster.”

FADE IN DING! DING! DING! “Ladies and gentlemen,” proclaims Funyon, “this… is the MAIN EVENT!” Suddenly, the Panathinaiko Stadium comes alive with the sounds of the Prodigy’s “Fuel My Fire.” The fans come to their feet as Wild and Dangerous make their way out to the ring, along with their partner for the evening! “Big six-man tag team attraction coming up!” exclaims Longdogger Pete. “And King, all three of the men on their way to the ring tonight could use a big win!” “Especially Wildchild and Li’l Buck,” adds the Suicide King. “Buck hasn’t had a big win in some time; he got a couple of title shots against Ejiro, but wasn’t able to close it out. And, of course, Wildchild is in the middle of the biggest slump of his pro-wrestling career; even against a rusty ELM last week, he wasn’t able to pick up a win!” “Well King, to be fair, Wildchild had a little more to try and overcome than just being unprepared for his opponent,” replies Pete. “Let’s keep in mind that Wildchild has idolized Mags for years! It’s hard enough trying to go all-out against a opponent that you haven’t trained for, but when it’s somebody whom you consider to be a hero, how can anyone expect you to be able to do your best?” King’s nose wrinkles in distaste. “He gets paid, don’t he?” “Well, yes, but…” “There is no but!” snaps King. “If he gets paid, then he’s a professional! He should be mentally ready to go in the ring against anybody, even if it’s his own mother!” SMACK! King scowls at Pete as he rubs the back of his head. “What the hell was that for?” “That was in poor taste, King!” barks the Doggah. “You know that his mother was killed last year in a hurricane; that was out of bounds!” “First of all,” snaps King, “the next time you put your hands on me, I’m going to put you headfirst through this table… Secondly, stop being so damned touchy; it’s a figure of speech, for god’s sake!” Wildchild, Johnny and Buck climb into the ring and pose for the crowd as they show their love for Sugarhill’s Finest and the former Tag Team Champions: ”YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!” “The following contest is scheduled for one fall!” resumes Funyon. “Currently in the ring, at a total combined weight of seven hundred one pounds… first, from Lanett, Alabama, he is ‘Sugarhill’s Finest…’ Li’l Buck! And his tag team partners… WILD! AAAAAND DAAAAANGEROUS!” Wildchild removes his shin guards, upon orders from referee Ronald “Red” Herrington, and then he and Johnny motion for Buck to join them in the corner to talking strategy, as their music fades out. “I don’t really see this team working well together,” says King. “I mean, Buck isn’t a tag team wrestler; he has the mentality of a singles wrestler, so when he gets tagged into the ring, their team is at risk for Buck being isolated by the other team, since I’m guessing that it goes against his instincts to make a tag!” “Maybe so King, but I have my doubts that Ejiro and Martial Law will be able to work all that fluidly together,” counters Pete. “I mean, Ejiro definitely has more experience in tag team wrestling than Buck, so that should give them an advantage, but I can definitely see them having chemistry problems.” “Based on what?” “Well, Ejiro and Landon both have alpha-type personalities,” explains LDP, “and they both want to be the guy running things; I don’t see Ejiro listening to Landon, or vice versa.” The Athens fans come alive as “Save Yourself” begins to play. A series of pyrotechnic explosions light up the stage as Landon Maddix and Todd Cortez step from behind the curtain, with Megan Skye right behind them! “I...CAN...NOT...SAAAVE...YOU! “I! CAN'T! EVEN! SAAAVE...MYYY...SELF!” “SO JUST SAAAVE YOURSELF!” ... “SSSAAAAAAAAAAAAVVVVVEEE!!!” “Their opponents,” says Funyon, “have a total combined weight of six hundred sixty-nine pounds! Introducing first, being accompanied to the ring by their manager, the First Lady of the SWF Megan Skye, here are the SWF World Tag Team Champions… Landon ‘La Cucaracha’ Maddix and ‘Urban Legend’ Todd Cortez… MARTIAL LAAAAW!” Maddix and Cortez arrive at ringside and slide underneath the bottom rope before rising to their feet and racing to opposing corners, leaping onto the turnbuckles to a mixed reaction from the fans: MARTIAL LAW! (SUCKS!) MARTIAL LAW! (SUCKS!) “It sounds like the crowd’s about fifty-fifty for Martial Law here at Panathinaiko Stadium,” notes LDP. “There’s obviously a very vocal contingent of fans who don’t think very highly of them!” “Probably some bitter Wild and Dangerous fans,” King says idly. “Who let them in here, anyway?” Martial Law and Megan stop short of the ring as their music fades out, while they await the arrival of their partner: POPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPOPPOPPOP! The fans respond much more positively to the World Champion as his machine gun-like pyro lights up the stage! The Rule comes out, brandishing the Heavyweight Championship around his waist, but with a scowl covering his face as he makes his way down to the ring. “And their tag-team partner,” booms Funyon, “from Sarasota, Florida, weighing two hundred twenty-three pounds, here is the SWF World Heavyweight Champion… The RULE! EEEEEJIRO FAAAAAH-SAKI!” The Champion proceeds down the ramp at a deliberate pace and walks right past his partners as he makes his way to the ring, completely ignoring the outstretched hand of Landon Maddix. “Boy, what do you think has Ejiro so bent out of shape, King?” wonders Pete. “He had an awfully stern look on his face when he came down to the ring, and totally blew his partners off, too!” “Well,” replies King, “as you might have noticed, he came down to the without his sister; there must still be some friction between the two of them after that altercation backstage earlier tonight… either that, or somebody just told him how bad the ratings have been since he became champion!” “That’s enough, King!” snaps Pete, as Ejiro’s music fades out. “I think you’ve exceeded your quota for smart-ass remarks tonight! Let’s just get to the action!” Red Herrington orders both teams to their respective corners, and then motions to the timekeeper to ring the bell, signifying the start of the match. DING! DING! DING! Wildchild, as usual, leads off for his team, against Landon Maddix. The two approach each other, and appear about to engage in a collar-and-elbow tie-up, but Wildchild pulls away at the last possible second, causing Landon to briefly lose his balance… BAP! … And leaving him open for a quick jab by Wildchild! BAP! BAP! BAP! Wildchild backs Landon up against the edge of the ring, only for the Cockroach to stun him with a rake of the eyes. Landon grabs him by the wrist and whips him across the ring, but Wildchild reverses. Wildchild hooks his arm underneath Landon’s as he rebounds from the ropes to take him over in a hiptoss, but Maddix blocks. Before he can retaliate, however, Wildchild reaches up with his free hand and locks it with the other, before flipping backwards to catch his feet on the top rope, and using it as a platform to spring back into the ring, taking Landon over with a phenomenal armdrag! Maddix quickly rolls back to his feet and charges Wildchild, who hooks him underneath the arm once more, and this time gets his hiptoss to go! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! DUB CEE! “What an incredible reversal of fortune by Wildchild!” gushes Pete. “Landon Maddix blocked that hiptoss attempt, but Wildchild managed to… I don’t even know what to call that! I guess you could say that he countered the counter, into one of the most spectacular armdrags I’ve ever seen… and then got the hiptoss he was looking for originally!” “Well, I’ll say this much for him,” concedes King, as Wildchild pulls Landon over to his corner, “there’s probably not anybody in professional wrestling who does an armdrag better than Wildchild! He’s able to get to snap his opponent over so quickly, that it’s almost more like an impact maneuver than a takedown! And here comes the quick tag to Johnny Dangerous!” Wildchild doubles Landon over and traps him in a front facelock as Johnny climbs to the top turnbuckle… WHAM! … And dives into the ring, delivering a clubbing double-axe handle blow to Landon’s back! Johnny picks Landon up into a fireman’s carry and dives forward, crushing the Cockroach against the canvas with his patented Spinal Explosion! Johnny quickly rolls back to his feet and turns to face Maddix before leaping off the canvas… WHAM! … And crashing across Landon’s throat with a leaping legdrop! Johnny shifts into a lateral press as Herrington drops down to count: ONE! TWO! But Landon kicks out easily at two! Johnny pulls him to his feet and leads him into his corner, where he makes the tag to Li’l Buck! “Well, so far the Li’l Buck team has been very fluent in the ring, with frequent tags,” remarks King. “Much to my surprise, I’ll admit; but now let’s see if the continuity will still be there now that Buck is in the ring!” Buck steps in and immediately goes to work on Landon, hammering his back with thunderous forearm shots! He scoops Maddix up for a slam, but the Cockroach rolls over his shoulder and lands behind him, before immediately leaping back off the canvas and catching Buck by the seat of the pants with a dropkick that sends him stumbling into the Champions’ corner! Landon scampers over to his corner and makes the tag to his partner. Cortez steps into the ring, with Ejiro close behind him as Todd takes Sugarhill’s Finest with a snapmare. Ejiro runs to the ropes as Cortez holds Buck into place and leaps into the air, dropping a knee into the side of Buck’s face! Herrington orders Ejiro out of the ring and admonishes him for illegally double-teaming, freeing Todd up to choke Buck out against the middle rope. “It’s funny how the teamwork has increased noticeably since Landon tagged out,” King says idly. Todd pulls Buck away from the ropes and plants him on the canvas with a scoop slam before tagging out to Ejiro. The Rule climbs to the top turnbuckle as Cortez holds Buck steady and dives into the ring, dropping a diving elbow into the face of Sugarhill’s Finest! Fasaki pulls Buck back to his feet and leads him over to the corner, ramming him face-first into the top turnbuckle pad! The Rule leans over and makes the tag back to Cortez, and whips Buck into the ropes as Todd enters the ring. The Urban Legend charges towards the opposing ropes as Buck rebounds… CRACK! … And blasts him in the face with a tremendous superkick! Cortez hooks Buck’s leg as he applies a cover: ONE! TWO! WHAM! Wildchild runs in before Herrington can count three, and kicks Cortez in the head to break up the pinfall! Cortez pulls Buck back to his feet and forces him into his corner as Herrington orders Wildchild back onto the apron. “Wildchild managed to break up the pinfall, but he exposed his partner to some more punishment by coming into the ring,” says Pete. “That’s a cardinal mistake for a three-time former tag team champion, and totally unlike him!” Cortez turns his back to Li’l Buck to taunt Wild and Dangerous, before thrusting his arm back and blasting Buck in the face with a fierce back elbow. “And notice how Ejiro and Martial Law are targeting the facial area,” says King. “Evidently, they’ve decided that the face is the weak point of Li’l Buck!” Landon yells to Todd to tag him back in, and the Urban Legend appears to blow him off, but Megan pleads with him from outside the ring until he finally relents. “Well, we’ve known for some time that there’s friction between the Tag Team Champions,” says Pete, “but I can’t believe that it would come down to Todd Cortez having to be begged by his manager just to tag his partner!” Cortez tags Landon in, and the two of them whip Buck into the ropes. Landon lowers his head to deliver a back-body drop on Buck, expecting Cortez to aid him, but the Urban Legend exits to the ring apron… WHAM! … And Sugarhill’s Finest flattens Maddix against the canvas with a double-axe handle blow! Buck crawls over to his corner and tags in Johnny, who leaps over the top rope and pulls Landon to his feet, whipping him into the ropes, and then leveling him with an explosive clothesline! He quickly pulls Landon to his feet and tags Wildchild as he whips Maddix into the ropes. Johnny bellies out against the canvas as Landon runs over the top of him… WHACK! … And right into a dropkick by the Wildchild! The Bahama Bomber stands up as Johnny exits the ring and positions himself with his back to Maddix, as he flips into the air and crashes down on the Cockroach with a standing moonsault press! Wildchild goes for the cover: ONE! TWO! BUT MADDIX KICKS OUT! “Boy, look at Cortez and Ejiro fuming out on the ring apron,” notes LDP. “They put in all that work to soften up Li’l Buck, and took control of the match, and Landon Maddix managed to lose all that momentum in only a few minutes!” Wildchild pulls Maddix back to his feet, but the Cockroach stuns him with another eye rake, and dives towards his corner to make the tag to Ejiro! “YEEEEEEEEEEAH!” “Listen to this crowd go crazy as the Champion steps into the ring!” shouts Pete. “There’s definitely no love lost between these two!” “Well, this is one of the all-time crowd favorite matchups,” says King. “Wildchild and Ejiro had one of the more intense feuds in the history of the SJL and the SWF a few years back… this is there first the two have been in the ring together in almost two years, and after what happened earlier tonight, you have to believe that the bad feelings that these two used to have towards each other have been brought back to the surface!” The Athens fans stomp their feet nearly in unison, creating a thunderous din as Wildchild and Ejiro stand nose-to-nose in the center of the ring. SMACK! WHOO! Wildchild makes the first move, blasting Ejiro with a reverse knife-edge chop! SLAP! WHOO! Ejiro returns the favor with a stiff open-hand slap to the chest! SMACK! WHOO! SLAP! WHOO! SMACK! WHOO! SLAP! WHOO! SMACK! WHOO! SLAP! WHOO! SMACK! WHOO! SLAP! WHOO! WHAM! After a riveting exchange of chops, Wildchild catches Ejiro off-guard with a tremendous headbutt that drops him to his knees! Wildchild pulls Ejiro to his feet and whips him towards a neutral corner, only for Fasaki to reverse it, but the Bahama Bomber leaps up to the top turnbuckle as he approaches the corner and flips over Ejiro back into the ring! Ejiro spins back around and charges at Wildchild, but the Human Hurricane takes him off his feet with a deep armdrag! Wildchild pulls Fasaki back to his feet and whips him into the ropes, lifting him into the air as he rebounds with a back-body drop, but the Rule displays surprising agility, floating over Wildchild’s back and landing on his feet. Ejiro bellies out as Wildchild runs over the top of him and quickly gets back up, taking the Bahama Bomber off his feet as he rebounds a second time and into the Cobra Crossface! “Ejiro with the Cobra Crossface!” shrieks Pete. “He could get a submission here!” But, before Wildchild can tap out, Johnny rushes in immediately to kick Ejiro away, even going so far as to drag Wildchild over to his corner! “I’ll give him credit,” says King, as Herrington chastises Johnny, “that was excellent leadership on the part of Johnny Dangerous; not only did he break up a potential submission, but he got his partner out of a bad situation, and put him in an excellent position to tag!” As Herrington continues to chew Johnny out, Wildchild reaches up to tag Li’l Buck. “Wildchild makes the tag to Sugarhill’s Finest,” says Pete, as Buck enters the ring. “Hey, what’s Maddix doing over there in the corner?” The camera shifts to Maddix, showing him removing the middle turnbuckle from a neutral corner. “He’s removing the turnbuckle pad, King! What’s going through that twisted little mind?” Buck backs Ejiro into the opposite corner and hammers him with punishing fists before whipping him across the ring. Buck charges across the ring to deliver a clothesline as Ejiro staggers out of the corner… CRACK! … But Fasaki trips Buck with a drop toehold that sends him crashing face-first into the exposed steel turnbuckle! “My God!” cries LDP. “Ejiro just sent Buck face-first into that exposed turnbuckle! I think he might have busted his face, King!” Ejiro pulls Buck to his feet and attacks Buck’s face like a shark sensing blood in the water, hammering the side of his face with a series of kneelifts! He drags Buck over to his corner, where he looks at Maddix with disdain before making the tag to Cortez. Ejiro whips Buck into the ropes and drops to one knee as he rebounds, while Cortez takes Sugarhill’s Finest over with a drop toehold… CRACK! … Driving Buck’s face into Ejiro’s knee! Li’l Buck rolls onto his back, kicking his legs against the canvas in pain as he clutches his face. “Phenomenal double-team by Ejiro and Todd Cortez,” says King, as Cortez delivers a fistdrop to Buck. “They continue to work on that face!” “Take a look for me, King,” asks LDP, “you can see a little better than me; is Buck bleeding from the eye?” “I dunno,” replies King, as Todd continues to drop fists on Buck’s head, “I’m going to need a better camera shot to tell… Oh…sh(Bleep!)t! Yeah! He’s busted open!” “Buck with some blood flow coming from all around that eye,” adds Pete, “and you have to think that shot to the turnbuckle pad was the last straw!” “Look at his face, MacDougal!” shrieks King. “That whole side of his face is busted open; he might have broken his eye socket!” Another kneelift to the face and Buck’s head glances off Todd’s knee, sending him tumbling sideways to the mat with both hands covering his face as the Urban Legend applies a lateral press for: ONE! TWO!! NO!!! The Gangsta of Love rolls his shoulders off the mat, bringing himself to a kneeling position. He roars out in pain as one hand gingerly covers his eye, and the other hand reaches out towards the two men waiting in his corner, half a mile away. Johnny and Wildchild both look on, stunned, as the only help they can be right now is to wait for Buck to make it to them for a tag. However, that might be awhile. Cortez grabs Sugarhill’s Finest from behind, clamping down on his skull with a side headlock. “Oh man,” says Pete, cringing at the sight. “Todd Cortez has Lil’ Buck trapped in a side headlock now. Normally I wouldn’t have much to say about it, but the Urban Legend is clamping down right on Buck’s injured eye!” “Which just may be the smartest plan to keep Buck down,” adds King. “This team has inadvertently created a rather odd injury on him and now they’re wisely exposing it. I can’t say I’ve ever seen an eye submission before but it just may work!” Cortez continues to bear down on the side of Buck’s face as Herrington drops in, asking Sugarhill’s Finest if he’ll submit. However, despite the surging pain, Buck roars out a “NO!” in response and he starts to push himself up to a standing position! Todd tries to hold on, even as his opponent climbs to his feet making it all the harder for Cortez to keep his hold as tight. Finally, Buck sends some elbows flying back, nailing the Urban Legend in his ribs and forcing Cortez to release his hold to a thunderous cheer! Cortez staggers backwards, clutching his ribcage as the Gangsta takes off across the ring. Buck hits the ropes and comes rocketing back towards the Urban Legend… CRACK! …and Cortez nails Buck with a lighting-quick super kick, dropping SugarHill’s Finest like a bad habit! Once again, Todd drops down and covers Buck for: ONE! TWO!! TH-WHAM!!! Just before three, Johnny races into the ring and kicks Cortez in the skull, knocking him off Lil’ Buck! Herrington quickly turns towards the Barracuda and barks at him to exit the ring, which he does, as Todd Cortez rolls up to his feet and tags in Landon Maddix! “Smart tagging being practiced by Todd Cortez,” says Pete. “Even though he has Buck pretty worn down he wasn’t going to risk not taking the opportunity to get a fresh man into the ring. Now we have Landon Maddix stepping in for his team.” Maddix cruises into the ring just as Lil’ Buck is once more on his hands and knees, desperately trying to get back up by way of the ropes, but Landon delivers a stiff kick into the Gangsta’s abdomen to knock him onto his back. Landon slaps on a quick arm wrench onto Buck and pulls him to his feet before stepping forward and whipping Sugarhill’s Finest across the ring with an Irish Whip! He chases after his gang-banging opponent and as Buck rebounds off the ropes Landon jumps up and sinks both feet into his chest with a drop kick! The impact doesn’t knock the bigger man down but instead sends him staggering backwards into the ropes. Once more Buck is propelled off the ropes, however slightly, and Maddix races in and leaps to the middle rope behind him. He springs off and turns in midair towards Buck, snatching him by the back of his head and driving his skull into the mat with a ferocious DDT! WHAM! “And Maddix continues to keep that pressure on Buck’s head,” says Pete. “At least this team is showing a cohesive effort to keep targeting that weak spot on our fun loving Gangsta’.” “Yeah, shockingly they have,” agrees King. “I was wondering if Maddix and Fasaki could actually work together instead of both men trying to be the stars of the show at the beginning, but they’ve managed to surprise me tonight.” Maddix dives onto Buck’s chest, covering him as Herrington drops to count for: ONE! TWO!! TH-NO!!! Buck kicks out! “YEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!” “Another second and it looks like Wildchild would have jumped in to make the save anyway,” notes Pete as Wildchild, already inside the ring, slowly backs himself back towards his corner, this time saving the referee from having to bark any warnings to him. “You have to give Buck some credit here for having some real resilience. He’s taken some tremendous abuse to that eye socket of his and even then he refuses to lie down!” However, if Landon has his way Buck won’t have much choice but to stay down. Maddix grabs his opponent by the sides of his head and starts dragging him up to his feet… CRACK! …and then BLASTS Lil’ Buck in his face with a forearm! Buck staggers a step back, swaying, but he doesn’t fall, and the fans start to heat up in support of Sugarhill’s Finest. Once more, Landon steps in and slams a forearm into the Gangsta of Love’s face, making sure that he hits right on that bloodied eye! “Landon’s taking a rather odd approach to this,” notes King. “Whereas his partner’s tried to keep Buck down and wear him down by applying pressure to his eye, Landon’s trying to just knock Sugarhill’s Finest out cold!” “Buck’s certainly worn down enough,” replies Pete. “He isn’t putting up any fight against Landon, even as these fans start to really rally behind Lil’ Buck!” Sure enough, the chants of the crowd start to ring out loudly: “LET’S GO LIL’ BUCK, LET’S GO!” CLAP! CLAP! CLAP-CLAP-CLAP!!! “LET’S GO LIL’ BUCK, LET’S GO!” CLAP! CLAP! CLAP-CLAP-CLAP!!! Maddix sneers towards the obviously ignorant fans. How could they possibly show any support towards this gun-toting, foul mouthed, tattooed gang banger when the real star of the SWF was standing in the ring! He looks back at Buck, growling ferociously, then races off across the ring, into dark territory, looking to build some serious steam against his opponent! “He’d better watch out! Landon’s so steamed that he doesn’t even realize that he’s-” CRACK! “YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!” Landon hits the ropes, but what he doesn’t see is that Johnny strolled towards where he was running the ropes and slung his foot up, nailing the Cockroach in the back of the head! Maddix stumbles forward, steam-less, holding to the back of his head as Herrington scolds the Barracuda, and at the same instant Buck rockets forward and… WHAAAAAAM!!! …Absolutely LEVELS Landon Maddix with a running lariat, nearly taking his head off! “Buck took advantage of the split-second distraction that Johnny Dangerous created and he may have just bailed the first bucket of water out of his sinking ship!” exclaims Pete, “what a massive clothesline that was!” “But he’s too winded to cover Landon,” says King. After having delivered his lethal lariat on Maddix, squashing him like a cockroach, Buck drops to all fours before finally collapsing onto the mat. “It looks like Herrington is going to have to utilize the ten count.” Herrington steps in between both men. He swivels his head back and forth between the two sprawled superstars, making sure that neither man is moving before starting the count. “ONE!” “TWO!” And after reaching the count of two there is still no movement from either man,” says Pete. “However, the crowd is really getting fired up now and I can hear a split chant for both men at this time.” “THREE!” “LAAAAAAAAAN-DON!” “BUCK!” “LAAAAAAAAAN-DON!” “BUCK!” “BUCK!” “BUCK!” “BUCK!” “FOUR!” “Well it looks like that split chant has completely developed into a full fledged chant for Sugarhill’s Finest now,” King says. “FIVE!” Finally, Landon raises up in a sitting position, growling out in madness. Nearly a fraction of a second later and Buck moves as well. The Gangsta of Love shoves up to his knees, and starts reaching out towards his awaiting partners. He’s nowhere near them yet, but his desperation to tag one of them seems to really get the fans cheering and chanting for him. Buck starts to craw towards his corner… “We could have a race to the corners on our hands!” exclaims Pete, “If either Buck or Landon can make the tag first they just might be able to save their team!” “Well, wait a second,” says King, glancing towards Maddix. “It doesn’t look like everyone in there shares your sentiments, McDougal.” Landon gets up to his feet. A little shaky at first, but he gently raps his palm against his head to shake the cobwebs before shooing off his partner’s as they beg Maddix towards them with outstretched hands. He staggers one step forward then turns back towards Buck who is already nearly to his corner, and races towards him! “Landon’s starting to get a little too big for his boots,” says King. “He’s just passed up a valuable opportunity to tag one of his partners in, opting to instead go for preventing Buck from getting the tag.” “If he makes it, it just may be the smartest move Landon’s made all night,” says Pete. “They’ve already isolated Buck long enough that one big move should put him away and Martial Law really doesn’t want to let Wild and Dangerous into that ring!” “That’s a big if there, McDougal! Landon’s throwing his entire deck on the table with this one!” Landon comes storming across the mat behind Lil’ Buck, but before he can reach SugarHill’s Finest, Buck shoves off the mat and dives towards his corner… SMACK! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!” “WILDCHILD’S IN! WILDCHILD’S IN!” shouts Pete as Buck makes the saving tag to the Bahama Bomber! Wildchild waste no time leaping to the top rope then quickly springing off, flying through the air and slamming into Maddix with a body press! The fans roar out with an absolutely thunderous cheer, but in the Martial Law corner both Ejiro and Cortez are less than pleased. Ejiro angrily pounds his fist into the turnbuckle as Cortez kicks his foot into the bottom rope before Skye steps in to calm both men down. “They don’t look too please over there,” snickers King. “Can’t say I blame them though; Maddix just had his entire decked slapped off the table by the Wildchild!” Wildchild hits Landon then rolls up to his feet and heads across the ring, picking up some steam. He hits the rope and blazes back across the ring as the Cockroach staggers to his feet, only to have Wildchild leap up, wrapping his legs around Landon’s neck and arching back to send Maddix skidding across the mat with a Hurricanerana! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!” “Landon has gotten himself in some serious trouble here rather quickly,” Pete notes as Landon lies motionless on his back and Wildchild drops in with a lateral press. Herrington drops down and counts for: ONE!! TWO!!! THREE!!!!!!! WHAM! NO!!!!!!!! Ejiro climbs the turnbuckle and leaps off, dropping a leg across the back of Wildchild’s head with only a split-hair of a second to spare! Reaching down and grabbing hold of the Bahaman’s long braids, Fasaki pulls the Wildchild to his feet then draws back his arm to smash an elbow into-NO! Herrington quickly springs into action; stepping between the two men he barks at Rule to exit to the apron while walking him towards the corner, and with this kind of distraction you know that Johnny Dangerous isn’t just going to stand idly on the apron. The Barracuda, using his stealthy, ninja-like skills, sneaks into the ring and comes in from behind on Maddix as the Cockroach stands to a vertical base. Johnny grabs Landon by his arm and spins him around to face him… “Look at this!” hollers Pete, “Johnny Dangerous is completely getting away with assaulting Landon! Kick to the gut to double Landon over and Johnny pulls him into a fireman’s carry… No! Not a fireman’s carry…it’s a EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII SLAAAAAAAAM!!!” Johnny kips up to his feet most dashingly after delivering his deadly move and grabs Wildchild by his arm, dragging him to Landon and dropping his arm over Maddix’s chest. “Now THAT’S how you take advantage of an opportunity!” cheers King. Herrington finally leaves Ejiro and turns around only to find the two legal men in the ring with Wildchild covering Landon. Like a seasoned Vietnam veteran, the referee dives towards the pin like he were diving to avoid a grenade blast and counts for: ONE! TWO!! THREE!!!!!!! NO! HE KICKED OUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! “Landon Maddix just kicked out of the MI Slam!” exclaims Pete, “I think there was just too much time between the hit and when the pin took place, plus Wildchild really didn’t have a good cover on him.” Cortez and Rule both wipe the sweat from their brows and start shouting encouragements to Landon, hoping to get him moving and hopefully… to actually make a tag! Wildchild gets up to his feet first. He’s a bit shaken, but he’s yet to take to great of an impact from anyone, and yet still he heads to his corner and tags the Barracuda in to a pleasant round of applause. Johnny steps through the ropes and charges into the ring, grabbing Landon by his ankle and dragging him back towards Wild and Dangerous territory. “Well at least Johnny’s wise enough to keep his opponent far and away from being able to make a tag – that’s why he’s one of the best in tag team action,” King says. Pete can only nod in agreement. Johnny pulls Landon up by the hair of his head, but Maddix suddenly slaps Johnny’s hand away from his hair and pokes his fingers into the Barracuda’s eye! Johnny stumbles back, covering his eye, and Landon races off across the ring, blazing past a row of two outstretched hands once more to come rocketing back towards Dangerous and… CRACK! …running straight into a spinning heel kick that sends him to the mat once more! “Damn! He had a second there that he could have used to make a tag and he still tries to take the whole load on his back alone!” Pete irritably shouts. Johnny takes the second he has to blink his eye several times before looking down at his sprawled opponent…then glancing towards his corner…and throwing six fingers into the air! On the apron, Wildchild smiles and nods in agreement before replying by holding up six fingers of his own…and the crowd goes wild! “I don’t believe I’m seeing this!” exclaims Pete, “Wild and Dangerous just gave the signal to initiate Order 66!” “You’ve got to be sh(Bleep!)ting me,” King says. “This is the same move that Wild and Dangerous used to retire Todd Royal at From the Fire 04! The implications of this move is simply deadly! They could send Landon to the retirement home!” “…” “Actually,” continues King. “That’s the best fu(Bleep!)king idea I’ve seen all night!” “I was a little surprised at your initial reaction,” replies Pete. Wildchild begins to climb the corner post as Johnny pulls Landon up and into a standing side headlock, looking to haul him up with a vertical suplex. However, as soon as Cortez and Ejiro see what Wild and Dangerous are up to they only have to quickly glance at each other once before deciding to storm the ring and put a stop to this deadly move! They race in and both club Johnny in the back, forcing him to drop Maddix to the mat and fend for himself! “This is a madhouse,” Pete says. “Ronald Herrington has been working hard all night to keep the right men in the ring but right now it looks like he has completely lost control of this match!” Johnny tires to fight the two men off; blasting Ejiro with a right hand he turns to dish one out to Cortez, but the Urban Legend blocks the blow and fires an elbow into the Barracuda’s mouth! Wildchild finally comes into to the aide of his partner. As Ejiro stumbles away from Johnny, having been socked in the mouth, he turns right into Wildchild diving off the turnbuckle and nailing Rule with a dropkick! Ejiro dazedly rolls up to his feet and stumbles into the ropes before the Bahaman comes racing across the ring and nailing Fasaki with a second drop kick to send him tumbling through the ropes to the outside floor! Wildchild quickly grabs onto the top rope with both hands and launches himself out of the ring and comes crashing down on Rule with a suicide planche! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!” Herrington slides out of the ring to check on the two men who now resemble a car wreck as Cortez leaves Johnny on all fours in the ring and makes his way back to the apron. Landon is now directly under his partner and finally, he reaches up to make the tag! SMACK! “Now Cortez is finally the legal man!” exclaims Pete as Todd comes back into the ring and heads towards Dangerous. “What a perfect position he has Johnny in to completely turn the tides in his teams favor and win this match.” “Yeah, but did the referee even call for that tag?” King asks, “he’s not even paying attention to the action inside the ring once again.” Cortez grabs Johnny by his throat and pulls him up to his feet before pulling his head into a standing head scissors! “RIOT ACT PLUS! CORTEZ IS GOING FOR THE RIOT ACT PLUS!” hollers Pete as the crowd lights up! However, the referee suddenly slides back into the ring and immediately orders Cortez back to the apron, having seen no tag! “WHAT!?” cries Pete, completely flabbergasted. “He’s ordering the Urban Legend out of the ring, citing that no tag had been made.” “If the ref didn’t see it than it didn’t happen!” snaps King. Cortez tries to argue that he made the tag to Herrington, but he will hear none of it. “When Herrington last left the ring Cortez was in illegally and he must have assumed that he was still in there illegally!” The crowd’s boos start to change into cheers as Buck slides back into the ring and rises up. He stalks behind the two arguing men, breathing bloody murder, then rushes in and blast Cortez in the back of his head as hard as he possibly can! CRACK! “It’s Buck! He’s come back for vengeance!” Todd is knocked into the ropes, and hangs on it by his chest till the Gangsta of Love grabs him by his feet and flips Cortez the rest of the way over, and down to the thinly-padded floor! Buck steps out of the ropes and drops to the outside as Megan frantically tries to shield the Urban legend from more! Meanwhile, in the ring, Johnny heads towards his corner as Wildchild gets back on the apron and makes the tag, bringing the Bahaman back into the match once more…and after Herrington motions for the legal tag! They grab Landon by his arms and drag him to his feet before sending him barreling across the ring. He hits the ropes and rebounds aimlessly back to his opponents, who await his arrival with a super chicklet buster! CRACK! CRACK! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!” Landon staggers dazedly backwards, not falling on his face just yet, but looking as if he could drop at a moments notice. before he does though, Johnny swoops in from behind, ducking his head between the Cockroach’s legs and lifting him up on his shoulders. Again, the crowd roars with cheers! Wildchild races towards the corner and leaps to the top of the turnbuckle, then turns and leaps off, flying through the air towards the totem pole of Maddix-Dangerous as Johnny begins the motions of an electric chair drop and the Bahaman grabs Landon by the back of his head… WHAM! …and drills Landon face and chest-first into the mat! “DAAAAAAAANGEEEEEEEEEROUUUUS DROOOOOOP!” shouts Pete. “This one is over!” Wildchild grabs Maddix’s leg and rolls him onto his shoulders, firmly pinning his shoulders to the mat as Herrington counts… ONE!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THREEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DING DING DING!!! “The winners of this match by pinfall,” bellows Funyon. “LIIIIIIIIIL’ BUCK AND WILD! AAAAAAAAAAND DAAAAAAAAAAANGEROUS!!!” “What a match! Unfortunately, that’s all the time we have for Lockdown, Folks! For the Suicide King, this is Longdogger Pete signing out! We’ll see you on Smarkdown!” “Wildchild and Johnny raise their arms triumphantly. The cameras then back off, showing the bodies sprawled out all over ringside… As We: FADE OUT.

“…so then, Sarah said-” “Pete?” “-and Munich-” “Pete?” “…what?” “Feed’s back.” “…” “…WELCOME BACK TO SWF LOCKDOWN!!” The cameras pan around the SOLD OUT~ Panathinaiko Stadium in Greece, where 80,000 or so mad European wrestling fans have crowded in to witness the once-in-a-lifetime exhibition of athletic competition and passion that is the SWF on tour. “Coming up next - Diva Pilowfighting!” King declares. “King, shut it,” Longdogger Pete advises his commentary partner. “No fans, in fact what we have next is far more exciting as we will see Toxxic take on an unnamed opponent!” “…so either Va’aiga, Charlie Matthews or John Duran.” “Nooo,” Pete says with strained patience, “we will see him fight an opponent who has yet to be announced. Need I remind you that only last week on Storm, Wildchild’s mystery opponents turned out to be none other than SWF legend, El Luchadore Magnifico?” “Please, I’ve been trying to forget…” Before the bickering can continue the enormous Smarktron screen at one end of the stadium whites out and the crashing opening chord of ‘Rookie’ by Boy Sets Fire rolls out into the midsummer Greek air. The screen quickly fades down to black, and as it does so jagged white letters flash up an all-too-familiar slogan: ‘PREPARE TO BE PROVED WRONG…’ As the jagged guitar riff starts, images of Toxxic’s career begin to flash up, one after another. We see the infamous Glass Jawbreaker on Aecas, highlights of the All-Show Brawl with Insane Luchador and the Super Intoxxication on Tom Flesher that won him his first World Title before the screen changes once more to show Mike Van Siclen being taken off a balcony and through a table with the Toxxic Shock Syndrome, the devastating landing timed to coincide with the ENORMOUS eruption of red pyro- *BOOOM!!* -that signifies the arrival of the SWF’s premier straight-edger! For a moment all that can be seen is smoke, and then a wiry figure bursts through and TEARS down the ramp towards the ring at top speed! Toxxic might not be quite on a par with Olympic sprinters but he still manages to cover the ramp pretty speedily, before diving under the bottom rope and sliding into the ring and then popping back up to his feet in front of the startled Matthew Kivell! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” The fans in attendance have only just caught their breath in time to show their disapproval, but Toxxic takes up station in the middle of the ring and throws his arms wide, palms flat downwards… *BOOOM!!*[/b][/b] …to ignite four more blasts of red pyro, one from the top of each ringpost, as the first verse comes in. ‘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…’ “Ladies and gentlemen,” Funyon declares, “the following contest is scheduled for one fall - introducing first, in the ring; from Nottingham, England, he weighs in tonight at 218lbs and is a three-time SWF World Heavyweight Champion; the ‘Straight-Edge Sensation’… TOXXXXXXXX-IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIC!!” Toxxic strips off his England soccer shirt and passes it over the ropes to the timekeeper before performing a couple of quick stretches and then hopping up onto the top buckle to sit and wait for his opponent. “He is indeed a three-time World Champion,” Pete confirms, “and next Monday on Smarkdown he will be going one-on-one with Danny Williams in the first ever match between two three-time World Champions!” “Of course, now Magnifico is back there’s a third member of that elite club on the roster,” King remarks. “So I suppose,” the Gambling Man continues, “Toxxic will just have to beat him as well!” As ‘Rookie’ fades out all eyes turn expectantly towards the entrance ramp. For a few moments there is silence… …and then the stirring opening notes of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony! “What?” Pete says, as the crowd instinctively starts to boo. “Revolution Zero is disbanded! Why is Toxxic bringing Pretzler out here to be at ringside?” “Uh, Pete?” King says in a concerned tone, “Toxxic doesn’t know anything about this. Look.” Indeed the Straight-Edge Sensation’s face is a picture of pure puzzlement. Puzzlement that is rapidly crystalising into a rather nasty certainty… “…and his opponent,” Funyon booms, confirming it for everyone in attendance as a familiar blonde figure appears, “from Toronto, Ontario Canada; he weighs in tonight at 226lbs… ‘The Critic’, SCOOOOTTTTTTTTT… PRRRRRRREEETTTZZZ-LEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRR!!” “Tom, Tom, what are you doing?” King says in horror as The Critic begins to make his way down the entrance ramp, rather slower than his former leader. “I know you don’t like Toxxic, but did you have to throw Pretzler against him?” “Well, this should be a very interesting match!” Longdogger Pete declares with nothing like the same degree of apprehension. “Two former stablemates squaring off, and two rather large egos clashing! This is Toxxic’s chance to prove why he was the leader, and Pretzler’s chance to prove that he belongs in the main event!” Toxxic has dismounted from his perch and is leaning over the top rope as Pretzler approaches the ring. The Critic has a faintly apologetic expression on his face as he mounts the steps but that doesn’t stop Toxxic from starting to address him immediately. The ring mics can only pick the words up faintly, but the body language fills in the gaps for the viewers at home… ’What the bloody hell is this?’ ‘Well, I did try to tell you earlier-’ ‘This wasn’t your idea?’ ‘No, most certainly not.’ ‘Well… alright then. Let’s give ’em what they came to see.’ With the opening words out of the way Toxxic backs off and lets Scott Pretzler prepare himself. The Critic performs a few pre-match stretches of his own, then signals to Matthew Kivell that he is ready to begin. The referee calls both men together and briefly runs down the rules before calling for a handshake - which he gets - and then signals for the bell! *DING-DING-DING!* “These two men have only been in the ring as opponents once before,” Pete notes, “and that was in a Fatal Four-Way match also featuring Wildchild and Todd Cortez. They worked as a team on that night and the display of ‘wrestling’ they put on against each other was something of a joke - but it’s worth noting that Pretzler picked up the win by making Wildchild give up to the Snowflake Clutch!” “Only because Toxxic was busy running interference against Cortez,” King argues. “He let Pretzler win that one - in fact, he helped him to do so.” “Do you think he’ll do the same here?” Pete asks mischievously. The early indications are ‘no’; Toxxic is keeping his distance from the Critic, who is obviously seeking to close with his former leader and take the match to the mat. Meanwhile the Straight-Edge Sensation circles the Canadian warily, looking for an opening. Toxxic seems to see some flaw in Pretzler’s positioning or balance because he suddenly darts in, feints, then dives through his opponent’s legs in a baseball slide and pops up behind Scott. Pretzler is caught off-balance for a moment and Toxxic wastes no time in jumping up, hooking his legs under Pretzler’s arms and rolling backwards for a Prawn Hold! ONE! TWO!! …but Pretzler kicks out moments after Matty Kivell’s hand finds the mat for a second time, and Toxxic instantly scrambles away before his more technically-minded friend can take advantage of their proximity. “Toxxic’s ribs and back don’t seem to be displaying any notable signs of damage, even after the Ratings Grabber that put him through the announce table only ten days ago,” Pete notes. “I’d have thought the bridge on that pin might have caused him a twinge or two, but we’ll have to see how he fares as this match develops.” “Tom certainly knew what he wanted to achieve,” King notes with some dismay. “The Snowflake Clutch puts pressure on the back as well as the neck, and Pretzler is a genius at working over the necessary body parts.” Scott Pretzler is back on his feet and eyeing his former leader warily, well aware that a flash pin could end this match very quickly. He starts to advance on Toxxic but the British punk dances away, making sure that Scott doesn’t get any closer than he wants him to. After a few seconds of this the Straight-Edge Sensation apparently sees another opening as he darts in again. Pretzler starts to stoop, ready to catch Toxxic on a baseball slide attempt but this time the straight-edger leapfrogs the Canadian, then lands on his feet and turns back to hook Pretzler’s left arm with his own, then swings his feet up to latch onto the right arm before bringing his former stablemate over with a Crucifix pin! ONE! TWO!! …but Pretzler kicks out again! This time the Critic is in a much easier position to try and catch a handhold on his elusive opponent the moment the pin is broken, but as he lunges towards the mat-bound Toxxic the Straight-Edge Sensation swings his legs up and latches on a headscissors. Pretzler tries to manoeuvre his opponent into a position where both his shoulders are on the mat… ONE! …but Toxxic bridges up onto his head, then uses his arms to twists his upper body around so he can try and take Pretzler over with a twisting headscissors. However, the Critic has other ideas and he fires a kick into Toxxic’s ribs - not full-power, just enough to dissuade his opponent - and then, as the straight-edger slumps slightly Pretzler takes a good hold on each leg and wrenches upwards. Toxxic comes away from the mat fairly easily and the Critic hoists him further, readying for his signature snap powerbomb… but Toxxic reacts quicker and dives backwards to take Pretzler over with a hurricanrana! “Toxxic seems to be getting the better of this opening exchange,” Pete remarks, “but can he hold up the pace? Both men had gruelling matches at 13th Hour but I’d still say that Scott Pretzler’s stamina is slightly superior over the long haul.” “I’d certainly agree,” King muses. “The longer this match goes, the better Pretzler’s chances are. If he can frustrate Toxxic then he might be able to goad him into doing something too risky, at which point he can capitalise. On the other hand, Toxxic’s flashier offence might be able to put Pretzler away before The Critic’s low-risk low-payoff gameplan can fully come into effect.” “You know King, you’re actually not a bad colour man,” Pete says as Pretzler rolls over onto his front, “on occasion at least.” “It’s amazing how things change when I actually like both wrestlers involved.” The disorientating effect of the rana seems to have momentarily confused Scott Pretzler, and it is presumably this that allows Toxxic to approach from the side and dive across his former stablemate’s shoulders with an Oklahoma Roll… ONE! TWO!! …but Pretzler kicks out again! Undaunted, Toxxic grabs his opponent the moment Pretzler begins to leave the canvas, then rolls backwards into a small package… ONE! TWO!! …and once more, Scott Pretzler manages to break the pin before the count of three. Toxxic slaps the mat once in mild frustration and reaches out for his opponent again - but Scott Pretzler seizes the outstretched limb and immediately drops down into a Fujiwara armbar! Toxxic yells in pain but the Critic is too close to the ropes and the Straight-Edge Sensation begins to shuffle his feet around, seeking to hook a toe into the cables and cause Kivell to call for the break. It takes a few seconds… “King, do you think Scott Pretzler is applying that armbar with everything he has?” Pete asks uncertainly as Toxxic edges towards safety… …and Toxxic manages to get to the ropes, meaning that Matthew Kivell calls for the break. The referee doesn’t even have to begin his count as Pretzler releases immediately and gets to his feet, followed a second later by Toxxic. “I’m not sure,” the Gambling Man admits. “He certainly seemed ready to powerbomb Toxxic hard enough, but perhaps it’s different when you’re trying to break the arm of a friend.” “What do you mean, ‘perhaps’?” Pete demands. “I am free from all moral hang-ups,” King replies loftily. “If you were my friend and you were between me and a win, I’d shoot you.” “If I ever become your friend, please do shoot me,” Pete mutters. However, while King and LDP have been coming over all lovey-dovey Scott Pretzler has become determined to take the initiative. The Critic darts forward, catching Toxxic by surprise, and makes a double-leg takedown that dumps the Brit on his back. Toxxic instinctively reaches for the ropes again but Pretzler hauls him backwards until the cables are beyond his opponent’s reach, then drops the legs and dives on top of his former leader to apply a side headlock. Toxxic doesn’t want to give the Critic a chance to wear him down so he swings his legs up and manages to lock another headscissors on, then literally pulls Pretzler off him until the Canadian is on all fours with his head trapped between Toxxic’s knees. Scott starts attempting to bridge forwards but Toxxic reaches out with both hands and- *SMACK!* -hits Pretzler’s back with his open palms, knocking the Critic back down to all fours and leaving a stinging sensation to dissuade him from trying that again. The Canadian has another plan though, and hooks both his arms behind Toxxic’s knees before rolling to one side and forcing Toxxic over onto his front. The Straight-Edge Sensation’s legs can’t keep hold of his opponent’s head at this angle and Pretzler is able to slip out whilst maintaining what has now become a controlling grip on Toxxic’s legs. The Critic manoeuvres forwards until he has one knee on the Brit’s back, then releases the legs to grab a chinlock which he wrenches back on, keeping his knee digging into Toxxic’s spine as he does so. “Two differing approaches in the early stages of this match,” Pete notes. “Toxxic tried to put his former stablemate down quickly with pinning combinations, while Scott Pretzler appears to be opting for a weardown approach. However, while this match is certainly competitive I still don’t think either man is giving it their all yet.” Kivell checks on Toxxic but the Straight-Edge Sensation is certainly not going to give up to a rear chinlock, no matter how many knees are in his back. Pretzler tugs gamely away but although the hold is clearly painful he isn’t getting anywhere fast, so the Critic removes his knee and starts to pull Toxxic up, still positioned behind his opponent. Once the Brit is on his knees Pretzler suddenly chickenwings Toxxic’s right arm and reaches around with his left, looking for the chickenwing crossface that is a setup to the Snowflake Clutch, but Toxxic fires his left elbow into Pretzler’s temple to prevent the Canadian from completing the move. The straight-edger then pops up to his feet and tries to disentangle his right arm, but although he manages to extricate himself from the chickenwing in Pretzler’s split-second of disorientation the Critic grabs Toxxic’s wrist before it escapes him, then twists into an armwringer. Toxxic rolls through and comes up to his feet attempting to continue his movement and apply an armwringer of his own but Pretzler blocks it, then twists Toxxic’s arm the other way to block that method of escape again. (“LET’S GO PRETZ-LER…”) The chant is faint, but at least some of the Greek crowd are capable of appreciating a good athletic display when they see it. Scott Pretzler looks momentarily appalled that these greasy Europeans would dare sully his name, but he does have to admit that it has a good ring to it… however, Toxxic isn’t willing to be outdone by his former stablemate and as Scott clutches tightly to his reverse armwringer the three-time former World Champion runs for the ropes and jumps up to land in a seated position, then uses the tension in them to backflip off and land on his feet having nullified Pretzler’s hold. Before Pretzler can even register what has happened Toxxic pulls him close and then snaps him over with an armdrag! (“LET’S GO TOXX-IC…”) Scott Pretzler takes a moment to get back to his feet, but when he does so he sees Toxxic heading towards him having already rebounded off the ropes. Quite what the straight-edger has in mind remains unclear however, as Pretzler manages to respond in kind and takes his former leader over with a crisp armdrag of his own! (“LET’S GO PRETZ-LER…”) Not wishing stay on his back for longer than he needs to Toxxic curls his legs up under his chin and then kips up explosively, to a small pop from the crowd. Pretzler instinctively starts to duck, anticipating the enzuigiri that normally follows… but Toxxic doesn’t seem inclined to kick his former stablemate in the head just yet, and instead applies a side headlock to the slightly stooped Canadian. Pretzler is in no mood to have his own ‘wear-down’ strategy applied to him however, and he fires off a couple of forearms into Toxxic’s ribs before the straight-edger can get too comfortable. The impact jolts Toxxic’s grip loose a bit, and Pretzler takes the opportunity to shove Toxxic off into the ropes. The Straight-Edge Sensation rebounds and Scott Pretzler waits for him, then scoops him up… *CRUNCH!* …and drops him across one knee with a pendulum backbreaker! Toxxic cries out in pain and Pretzler seems to pause momentarily, perhaps at the realisation of what his instinctive reaction has done, but then he drops down to make a cover… ONE! TW- …Toxxic manages to fire a shoulder off the canvas but the Brit is clearly not that comfortable in the aftermath of Pretzler’s move. Scott still seems slightly hesitant, but then the Canadian shrugs and picks Toxxic up off the mat before grabbing his arm and Irish-whipping him into the turnbuckles. However, if Pretzler was hoping to damage Toxxic’s back further with an impact into the steel ringpost then he is disappointed as the Straight-Edge Sensation manages to vault to the top rope instead, then comes flying back with the diving clothesline known as the Role Reversal! *BANG!* Toxxic doesn’t kip up to his feet this time, instead opting to roll over onto his front and push himself up that way before heading for the ropes and stepping out to the apron. Pretzler takes a couple of seconds more to cough some air back into his lungs and then starts to rise, but as he turns around on the spot looking for his opponent Toxxic is already springing into action… literally, as the Straight-Edge Sensation springboards himself into the ring to take the Critic back down with a flipping neckbreaker from the apron! (“LET’S GO TOXX-IC!”) The landing seems to cause Toxxic some pain, and it is perhaps this that causes him to delay momentarily before rolling on top of Pretzler for the cover… ONE! TWO!! …but Pretzler kicks out moments after Matthew Kivell gets to two. Toxxic takes his former stablemate by the head and pulls him to his feet, then scoops the Critic up before slamming him down and heading for the turnbuckles. “That’s also odd,” Pete comments. “Normally you’d expect Toxxic to use one of his more innovative takedowns in that position, but instead he used a simple scoop slam. I have to say, I’m expecting this match to go to the man who starts actively trying to hurt his opponent…” Toxxic is already climbing to the top rope - not quite as sprightly as usual as he holds his back - then looks down at the winded Pretzler. The Straight-Edge Sensation pauses for a moment as if having second thoughts, but then seems to gather himself and jumps off, somersaulting forwards to land a leg across the Critic’s throat with the Hangover! *BANG!* “So was Toxxic worried about Pretzler’s well-being,” King asks as Toxxic grabs his spine again from the jarring landing, “or just his own back?” Toxxic certainly seems willing to take whatever opportunity for a win comes his way, as the Straight-Edge Sensation has now recovered enough to make another cover on the Critic… ONE! TWO!! TH- -but Scott Pretzler kicks out again, although a shade slower this time. Sighing, Toxxic starts to stand and begins to haul Pretzler up with him, then bends the Critic over and places him into a standing headscissors before applying the double underhook… “We could be about to see the Toxxic Shock Syndrome,” Pete shouts, “and this could end it right here!” Scott Pretzler has other ideas though, as the Critic is fighting the move for all he’s worth. Toxxic struggles but he can’t lock the underhook in properly and Pretzler first manages to free one arm, then the other, and then grabs his former leader behind the knees and pulls with all his might to topple the straight-edger backwards to the mat! Toxxic cries out in pain again as he lands on his back, but Pretzler isn’t finished yet as he tightens his grip on the Brit’s legs, then begins to turn over into a Boston Crab! (“LET’S GO PRETZ-LER…”) Toxxic definitely doesn’t want to be in this position, and the Straight-Edge Sensation scrabbles on the canvas in an attempt to get to the ropes as fast as possible. Pretzler manages to turn his opponent completely over and lock the hold in, but now Toxxic is only eight inches from the ropes… …six inches… …three inches… “He’s got them!” Pete shouts. “Toxxic has made the ropes, but what damage has been done to his back?” Pretzler releases his grip at the urgings of Kivell, then turns to regard his pained former leader. The Critic doesn’t seem willing to let his advantage slide away and drops an elbow towards Toxxic’s ribs- *BANG!* -but Toxxic rolls sideways underneath the ropes and out to the apron, causing Pretzler to miss! The Canadian pushes himself back up and reaches for his elusive opponent but Toxxic rams his shoulder through the ropes into Pretzler’s gut, then as the winded Critic doubles over he seizes the top rope in both hands and slingshots himself in over the top to take Pretzler over with a sunset flip! ONE! TWO!! TH- -but Pretzler kicks out again. Toxxic struggles to his feet, his back clearly giving him some problems, but he is still able to grab Pretzler’s right wrist and Irish whip his opponent into the ropes. The Canadian rebounds, only to see Toxxic launching himself feet-first at his shins- *CRACK!* -and Pretzler tumbles head-over-heels as Toxxic’s soccer tackle finds its mark! The Canadian gets back to his feet quickly but he is now limping quite badly, and it the work of a moment for Toxxic to bury his boot in Pretzler’s midsection and then apply the double underhook… “Here we go again!” Pete shouts. …Pretzler fights it, but this time Toxxic is able to hang onto his grip despite the Critic’s struggles and manages to lift his former stablemate UP… …AROUND… …AND… …DOWN! *BANG!!* “Toxxic Shock Syndrome,” Pete yells as the swinging, sit-out Pedigree-like move connects, “and that could be all she wrote!” However, the lift has evidently strained Toxxic’s back and it takes a couple of seconds for the Straight-Edge Sensation to be able to roll Pretzler over onto his back to make a pin… ONE! TWO!! THHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE- -but Pretzler just manages to squeeze a shoulder off the canvas before Kivell finds the mat for the third time! Toxxic looks rather dubiously at the official but seems to accept Kivell’s ruling, then grabs Pretzler and begins to haul his old stablemate off the canvas, clearly looking for something to put this match beyond doubt. Without wasting any more time the Straight-Edge Sensation applies a ¾ headlock to his opponent and then sets off towards the nearest turnbuckles… but Pretzler manages to shove Toxxic off, breaking the hold and sending the Brit careering chest-first into the corner to counter the Intoxxication! *THUD!* Toxxic staggers back with the breath knocked from his body and Pretzler instinctively ducks his head to tuck it under Toxxic’s left armpit, then wraps his arms around the straight-edger’s waist and bridges backwards to drive his opponent into the mat with a backdrop! *BANG!* “Pretzler making sure that Toxxic landed on his back rather than his neck there,” Pete comments, “perhaps not wanting to accidentally hurt his former leader too much?” “Or he could just be focusing on what we’ve already established is a weak point,” King counters as Toxxic rolls away from the groggy Canadian, clutching his spine, “let’s not establish Pretzler as too much of a sissy here.” Scott Pretzler is still clearly seeing stars from the Toxxic Shock Syndrome and isn’t quick to take advantage of his last move; however, Toxxic’s back and ribs are not in a good way after the double-whammy of turnbuckles and backdrop and the Brit is not making very fast progress either. Therefore it takes a few seconds before either man makes much of a move, and when it comes to it Pretzler is the one who gets to his feet first. The Critic drags Toxxic up to his feet, then applies his own double underhook to his opponent… but instead of stealing the Straight-Edge Sensation’s move, Pretzler instead simply hoists the Brit overhead before bringing him down with a butterfly suplex. *WHAM!* Almost before Toxxic has finished bouncing off the canvas, Pretzler makes his cover and hooks the leg… ONE! TWO!! TH- -but Toxxic kicks out, unwilling to go down just yet! Scott Pretzler doesn’t waste any time on arguing with Matthew Kivell, instead pulling Toxxic to his feet once more and threading the Brit’s arm through his own legs before hooking the other and lifting Toxxic off the ground, then dumping him back down over one knee with a pumphandle backbreaker! The straight-edger cries out in pain and Pretzler drops down to make another cover… ONE! TWO!! THHHHRRRR- -but Toxxic still kicks out, to the visible frustration of the Critic! “Scott Pretzler still working on the back of Toxxic,” Pete points out as the Canadian pauses for a moment to query Kivell’s judgement. “And we could be about to see the fruition of it,” King adds, “because it looks like he’s going for the Snowflake Clutch!” Sure enough, Pretzler has moved Toxxic into a sitting position and is attempting to grab Toxxic’s arms and cross them in front of his chest in preparation for the feared submission move, but the Brit is fighting for all he’s worth and Pretzler can’t quite get the grip he needs. Frustrated, Pretzler leans forward to try and get a better grip… and Toxxic abruptly throws himself back as far as he can and brings his right knee up straight into Pretzler’s forehead, knocking the Critic backwards and causing him to break his hold! (“LET’S GO TOXX-IC…”) The Straight-Edge Sensation scrambles away as fast as he can, but his mobility is clearly somewhat limited by the damage his back has taken and he can only struggle to his feet as he reaches the ropes. Pretzler is still clutching his head so Toxxic decides to take a chance and rushes his opponent- *BANG!!* -but Pretzler reacts at the last moment to grab the onrushing Brit and snap backwards, taking him over onto his hurt back with a picture-perfect belly-to-belly! “That could almost have been a Railgun Suplex,” Pete calls, “and one that Tom Flesher himself would have been proud of!” “Any of the great technical wrestlers in the history of this company would be proud of Scott Pretzler,” Suicide King asserts, “he truly is a master of the art.” “So who would be proud of Toxxic?” Pete asks with interest. “Which particular arrogant spot-monkey would consider him to be their heir apparent?” “Well, Magnifico does spring to mind…” Scott Pretzler appears to be considering going for another cover, but the knee to the head shook him up slightly and he realises after a second that his chance is probably gone. With that in mind the Canadian hauls Toxxic up to his feet again, then bends him over and places him in a standing headscissors. “He’s going for the powerbomb!” Toxxic does not want to taste the Pretzlerbomb and he tries to fight out, but his back is not up to back-bodydropping his way out of the move and Pretzler grabs the waistlock, then hoists upwards… *BANG!!* Pretzler, as ever, holds on for the pin… ONE! TWO!! THHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE- -but Toxxic just squeezes one shoulder off the mat before the third count! “LET’S GO TOXX-IC!” “LET’S GO TOXX-IC!” The Greek crowd seem to have found a favourite now, rallying behind their fellow European as he kicks out of the snap powerbomb. Scott Pretzler is definitely unhappy about what he perceives as the tardyness of Matthew Kivell’s count, but the Critic isn’t going to waste too much time arguing with officials when there is a match to be won and he takes hold of Toxxic’s head to bring the Straight-Edge Sensation back up again. Once more Pretzler places his opponent in a standing headscissors and once more he hoists him up high, but this time Toxxic fires off a desperation right hand that catches the Critic square in the temple! Pretzler staggers back a step at the unexpected impact and Toxxic lands another, then a third, a fourth… Pretzler’s hands lose their grip around Toxxic’s legs as the Critic struggles to shield himself, and Toxxic sees his opportunity. With a sudden burst of energy the Brit swings his left leg off Pretzler’s shoulder and grabs a front facelock as his body changes angle, then falls backwards and tugs the Critic down with him… *BANG!!* “-and Toxxic counters into a DDT!” Pete shouts as Scott Pretzler finds himself driven headfirst into the mat. “Toxxic still landed on his back, but only through the force of gravity rather than Scott Pretzler’s muscles, and he could have knocked his opponent clean out there!” It’s a struggle for Toxxic to move with the pain flaring in his back, but after a couple of seconds he manages to drape an arm over Scott Pretzler’s chest… ONE! TWO!! THHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! Now it is Toxxic’s turn to look disbelievingly over at Matthew Kivell, but the referee remains adamant. The exhausted straight-edger doesn’t even seem to have the energy to argue, but he manages to roll off his opponent and slowly start to push himself back to his feet. Scott Pretzler’s eyes are somewhat glassy but the Brit doesn’t intend to give his opponent any leeway, so Toxxic grabs hold of the Critic and begins to drag him to his feet as well. Toxxic grabs Pretzler’s wrist and tries to Irish whip him into the far corner but the Canadian reverses the momentum of the move and sends Toxxic in instead. Toxxic manages to avoid the full impact this time as he raises his foot and braces himself on the second buckle, but Pretzler has seen him and is already following in. The Critic extends his right arm for what might well be an enzui-lariat, ready to crush Toxxic against the buckles… …but Toxxic simply drops down to one side, causing the Canadian to crash chest-first into the corner instead! As Pretzler staggers backwards, clearly winded, Toxxic rolls out to the apron and then struggles to his feet, grabs the top rope and takes a deep breath… then slingshots himself into the ring, grabbing Pretzler around the shoulders and taking him over with a flying Oklahoma Roll! “He’s got him stacked up right on his neck!” Pete shouts as Kivell drops down to make the count… ONE! TWO!! THHHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! *DING-DING-DING!* “Ladies and gentlemen, here is your winner,” Funyon booms, “the ‘Straight-Edge Sensation’… TOXXXXXX-IIIIIIIIIIIIIC!!” Surprisingly enough, as ‘Rookie’ rings out over the Panathinaiko Stadium it is Scott Pretzler who gets back to his feet first. The Critic is holding the back of his neck, the DDT perhaps the cause of his inability to kick out of the Oklahoma Roll that put all of his bodyweight onto that one part of his body. Pretzler looks down at Toxxic, now starting to clamber up from the mat and clutching his back in pain… then extends his hand. Toxxic looks at him for a second, then reaches out his own black-nailed fingers to clasp Pretzler’s hand and the Critic hauls his former leader to his feet. “Well, I doubt that Scott Pretzler is one to take losing that well,” Pete says as the two former Revolution Zero members exchange a few quiet words, “but that was a good match and Toxxic has had his mettle tested ahead of his Smarkdown collision with Danny Williams. But don’t go away, because we have plenty more action coming up after this break!” FADE OUT

The camera cuts to a shot of the backstage area, in particular a hallway that El Luchadore Magnifico happens to be walking down. Moving swiftly, he turns a corner... And comes face to face with Tom Flesher. Surprised, ELM stops dead in his tracks and stares at Flesher, not quite sure what to do in this situation. Tom stares deep into Magnifico’s eyes, his face expressionless. The intensely awkward silence lasts for nearly a minute until Flesher finally speaks. “So.” Tom begins, not breaking his gaze. “You’re finally back.” Magnifico tenses up a bit, but tries not to let it show. “I can’t say I’m surprised.” Flesher continues, not giving ELM a chance to respond. “Even though you left in about the most cowardly way possible, I always thought in the back of my mind that you’d come back eventually. “Hey, listen-“ Magnifico begins, but he’s immediately cut off as Tom takes a step forward and gets right in the luchadore’s face. “Quiet.” Tom snaps, his stare growing colder and more intimidating by the second. To his credit, ELM stands his ground, refusing to be intimidated by his former rival. “I’ll stay out of your way for now, so long as you do the same for me.” Flesher says. “Agreed?” ELM raises an eyebrow. “Agreed.” “Fine then.” Tom starts to pass Magnifico, then stops, with his face right near the luchadore’s ear. “It’s only because of the shred of respect I have left for you,” Flesher whispers, “That I’m not going to make it my mission to cause your time here to be completely unbearable.” Before Magnifico can react, Tom’s already on his way, as though he didn’t say anything at all. ELM looks after him for a second, his face grim, before continuing on his way.