5_moves_of_doom

The scene on television screens around the world switches from an ad for ESPN Sportscenter, rumoring Michael Jordan’s umpteenth return attempt, to the swimming, teeming masses of folks piled high in the HP Pavilion in San Jose! The signage is as diverse as the people: “Prepare For Landon” held by a buxom young blonde, “Grand Slammer For The Hall Of Fame” put aloft by a throng of San Fran Giants fans, and, in semi-counter to that, “Stevens / MacPhisto – ‘04” raised high by a mass of the Oakland A’s faithful… In addition, there is even a group of fans dressed to the nines in San Jose Sharks gear with a big sign that reads, “Job Commish Bettman to Cutthroat! Bring back our other hardcore love!” That one shouldn’t be too surprising, considering… “We’re back in the ‘Shark Tank’, fellow citizens!” Cyclone Comet intones over the raucous crowd as the camera view spins quickly down from the crowd to focus on our very own SWF dynamic duo. “And for those of you just joining us, it seems we have a mini-Genesis on our hands tonight on Lockdown! Three main events! Three titles on the line! Three contendership matches! Bobby Riley to my left to help bring the action into your homes, and I am…” “Don’t EVEN think about it, Spandex Boy!” Riley hisses. Comet smiles as he stays silent, but the cry from the crowd behind the announce table is unmistakable: “CY-CLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONE COMET!” With that, one of the fans pops a rather loud party favor, sending the group into frenzy. Comet just grins at Bobby. “By Hera, I love these San Jose fans, Bobbo…” “Quit encouraging the masses… Please?” “But it’s my job to be an icon to the masses. I’m a super hero after all.” Bobby just groans. “At any rate,” Comet continues, turning back to the camera, “We have a stacked card tonight! The SWF Championship, the ICTV Belt, -and- the Tag Titles all up for grabs here tonight…” “Oh puh-leeze!” Riley butts in, much to the chagrin of the now momentum-broken Comet. “Toxxic is never going to lose the Championship to someone so out of his league as Andrea Montgomery… Spike and Sean are a lock for retaining the Tag Belts against Mike Van Sickly and Todd Bore-tez… The only title up-for-grabs is the ICTV title, and that’s only because Max King, the only –real- icon in the Fed…” Bobby pauses to cast an indignant glance at Comet, who shrugs it off. “Is gonna nab it off that Junior Carnie go-for boy and perennial jobber Landon Maddix!” Comet looks at the now hard-breathing Riley. “Those were some classic lines, Bobbo… Write them yourself?” “Nah… I guess they gave me some new scrub to write my ‘witty dialog’ tonight…” Both pause. “Be that as it may,” Comet states to break the silence, “We’ve already had one match tonight… The recently returned Citizen Stryke facing off against a… Eccentric character… In Uncle Filthy.” We get some of the higher spots of that matchup on-screen as Riley and Comet continue talking in a voice-over. “You know, Comet,” Bobby states, “I remember catching some of Uncle Filthy’s work on public access. He’s a pretty good and wholesome icon for kids everywhere.” “You –have- to be kidding me.” “Not at all, Comet! It’s very Fun-ucational™ Good, clean fun for kids of all ages.” The camera turns back on, revealing our announcers: Riley looking sure of himself, Comet looking a combination of horrified and incredulous. “’Good, clean fun’,” Comet repeats. “Bobbo, have you –looked- at the guy???” “Yeah, he looks like Average Joe American.” “And you’re saying you’re like that then?” “Nope! I’m above average!” “That you are,” mutters Comet as he spies the ever-present and ever-popular Funyon approaching ringside. His voice rises to call out over the slowly building crowd. “It looks like our next match is getting ready to start! Let’s listen in…” “Ladies and gentlemen,” Funyon calls, “The following contest is a three-way, last blood match to determine contendership for the SWF Hardcore Title!” YYYYYYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!! “Gee,” Bobby states as Funyon pauses until the crowd starts to die down. “I think this crowd’s really blood-thirsty.” “Really, Bobbo,” Comet fires back, rolling his eyes at the… Intelligence… Of his partner. “You think so?” Suddenly, the speakers of the Pavilion squeal, and “Tearing Everybody Down” by Anti-Flag kicks up. The crowd, not really recognizing the music, kinda half cheers as bursts of red pyros flares from the sides of the entranceway, and a torrential downpour of pyros cascade down from the ‘Tron and blanket the front entrance ramp. “Introducing first,” Funyon continues, “From Newark, New Jersey… Weighing in at 275 pounds… Danny… DAAAAAGDAAAAA!” The just-mentioned Dagda comes out from behind the spray of pyros… And he just has this… Swagger about him… BBBBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! For a moment, the blue-jeaned, black t-shirted Dagda looks at the fans seemingly hurt by their reaction… Then he shrugs, and promptly flicks them off. That, of course… BBBBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! … Just makes the fans love him more. “Well…” Comet manages to say after a pause. “Citizen Dagda is… Really endearing himself to the San Jose faithful here.” Moreover, Dagda drives the point home after he slides into the ring, by mockingly bowing to the crowd, and giving them the ever-popular “Suck It!” signal. BBBBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! “Citizen Dagda definitely looking to win any popularity contests,” Comet says with disdain in his voice. “Who needs popularity when you’re just –that- -good-!” Riley gushes. “He’s wild and unpredictable, and he doesn’t care what others think. He’s just out there to hurt some folks and make a name for himself.” “Sooooo… You’re giving the rookie a seal of approval, Bobbo?’ “… No. Never. Not a chance in Hell. No way, no how.” “A simple ‘no’ would’ve sufficed.” Dagda runs a hand through his hair, and then flicks the gel he pulls out of it towards the crowd as the speakers crank back up with the very eerie beginnings of Ozzy’s “Back On Earth”. YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! “Oh you’ve got to be kidding me,” Riley bemoans as David Cross strides with focus and confidence from the entrance area. He doesn’t notice the mini-pyro display behind him as he walks. He doesn’t notice the hearty handslaps of the fans. All he notices is the black-haired youth in the ring, clapping sarcastically in his direction. “Introducing next,” Funyon states, “From Oil City, P.A.… Weighing in at 277 pounds… David… CROOOOOOOOOOSS!” The crowd goes more electric as Cross slides into the ring, eyeing Dagda… Dagda, to his credit, backs away a little, holding his arms up, as if to say, “I have no quarrel with you just yet”. Cross continues to stare him down for a few more moments, and as Dagda backs himself all the way out of the ring, slips his leather jacket and cross off, handing them to the referee for safekeeping. He then watches Dagda warily as Dagda looks… Suddenly very serious. “Citizen Cross looking all business in this match,” Comet utters, “It almost seems he’s a little out of his element though, being he’s not one for weapon use.” “Of course he seems out of his element!” Riley replies. “He’s been basically on the back burner for what seems like ages now! And with the weapons… Well, he’ll have to learn real quick, or he’ll be the one to bleed tonight! I’m sure Danny D has no qualms about putting this thing to bed early!” “Ahh, Bobbo, but that’s where you forget… We have a third entrant in this contest tonight.” “… Oh. Yeah, right… Him.” “The ‘him’ that my… Ahem… Colleague refers to…” “HEY! What’s that supposed to mean?” “… Is a returning name of old, back to the IGN days… He is Christian Fury, coming back from nearly a year on hiatus after a less-than-stellar run after his infamous fellowship with the Clan.” Riley scoffs at his partner’s statement. “’Less-than-stellar’? He out and out sucked! Without the Clan’s backing, he was nothing. He won the European Championship with the Clan, then turned his back on them. He was nothing then, and he’ll be nothing now.” Blissfully, any continuation of the debate is ended as the arena lights drop down to nothingness. The crowd murmurs in anticipation, most not knowing a damn thing about the athlete about to appear. Cross and Dagda glance towards the entranceway, awaiting the third member of this dance card… The Pavilion’s speakers kick on, and the haunting opening of System Of A Down's "Aerials" softly filtered over them. The majority of the crowd doesn’t react overmuch, but there are some scattered cheers of recognition. All watch as the SmarkTron shows a slow-motion video montage of a man up high on the ropes, and plummeting down, flipping to smash some unsuspecting opponent on the floor below. This starts the crowd going with cheers. Just as the first verse is ready to play... BBBBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMM!!!!!!!!!! A massive pyro explosion flares up at the entrance ramp, and the song goes suddenly to a harder beat, switching to the guitar solo before the second-to-last chorus (the point right after they start screaming). The crowd… YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! The crowd is screaming hard, but no one has appeared from behind the pyro wall yet! Suddenly, there’s a flurry of activity in the ring… Cross, having been focusing to see the newest threat, half-turns at the crowd response… And instead of Funyon’s voice, we hear Riley’s voiceover: “Looks like a bit of mayhem’s gonna break loose!” ----- (A few moments earlier…) As I stand behind the heavy curtain separating me from the packed arena, a tech fiddles with the sound and pyro equipment, working on my entrance. I can’t bring myself to look at the closed-circuit TV; I’d rather just plunge myself into the chaotic world than tease myself with what’s out there. The tech makes a few button presses, and then looks at me expectantly. I nod, and he turns back to his panel, pushing a few more buttons. I can see the house lights die off through the slits in the curtain, the flashbulbs picking up a little. The tech, who can’t be much older than 21, looks at me with a smile. “Nervous?” I muster up a shallow smile. “A bit… It’s been a year.” “I know. I’m sure you’ll be fine, Mister Fury.” That gets me smiling more. “Call me Chris.” “Aerials” filters through the curtain, already partway through, and then a bright flash… The heat of the pyrotechnics leaking through the curtain, the cheering of the crowd… Wait… The cheering? But… I’m not even out there yet! I look at the tech for a moment. He notes my confused expression, and shrugs. “One way to find out!” I nod at him, and part the curtains just as the pyros die down… The crowd is electric, the flashbulbs and the houselights flaring back to life… Cutting through the smoke, I find… “They’ve started the match without me,” I muse to no one in particular. Ahead of me in the ring, I see the slick-haired kid, Danny Daga… Dagada… Something like that… wailing away at the other competitor, David Cross, I think it is… with a chair. The kid’s merciless, swinging and flailing with the metal object as Cross tries to cover up and roll out of the way of the brutal impacts. Suddenly… Dagda, that’s his name! Suddenly he’s looking out at me… He throws the chair down, trying to goad at me and taunt me down there. I just smile, even while the fans… BBBBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! …Show they’re none-too-thrilled at this ‘stoppage in play’. But I just continue to smile while Dagda vents and rants and raves, and… YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! Dagda raises a brow at the sudden shift in the crowd, and half-turns as… WHAM!!!!! Cross launches, and absolutely LEVELS Dagda with a running forearm! I chuckle to myself. “Rookie!” About now is when I start making myself the rest of the way down to the ring, kendo stick in hand. Cross hauls the younger Dagda up at that point, whipping him into the ropes. And in these first few moments alone, I’ve already learned a lot about my opposition. Cross seems a little leery to really come down to the ‘hardcore level’ right away. Dagda, however, is quite the opposite… Brash, arrogant, more than willing to throw down hardcore-style, and… WHAM!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! …Currently flat on his back in the ring after a nice clothesline by Cross. I slide into the ring quickly, looking to smack Cross down in the split second of recovery after his move. I swing the kendo stick down, looking for a quick advantage, and… SNAP!!!!! The kendo stick impacts nothing but ring mat! Cross dodged! Hmm… He has a bit more agility than I gave him credit for. Suddenly, as I’m turning to face him, he dodges around again… And suddenly I feel myself becoming the victim of a quick and strong front face lock! And just as quick… SLAM!!!!! The stars are swimming in my vision now… Damnit, I shouldn’t have underestimated this guy. That was one quick DDT. And I’ve missed those stars. My body’s kinda tingling and numb, and I think I dropped the kendo stick along the way. And slowly it dawns on me… There was no follow-up attack. CRASH!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! Ah… There’s the reason why. Dagda found his chair again. I’d better get up before… SLAM!!!!! Ow, that hurt… SLAM!!!!! Damnit! Moving too… SLAM!!!!! Alright, THAT’S IT! I’M PISSED NOW!!! I work with my instincts, and… SLAM!!!!! I feel the breeze of the missed chair shot, and work on quickly… Or as quickly as my burning, tingling body will let me… getting myself to my feet. I’m lucky, as Cross distracts Dagda from his attacks on me. I slowly get to my feet, watching as Cross catches Dagda with a wicked kick to the lower arm. It must’ve hit a nerve, literally, as Dagda has to drop the chair. Swiftly, I manage to get behind him, chicken winging his arms… And as I start to lift, he suddenly seems a lot lighter than his 275 pounds would indicate. We wheel over backwards… WHAM!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! …So fast, in fact, that my feet slip out from under me from the normal bridged end of the Tiger Suplex, and I wind up flat on my back… YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! …Much to the crowd’s delight? From my perspective, I see the ring ropes shaking. Aaaaah, now I understand what happened. Cross helped me by clothes-lining Dagda through the move. As quick as this realization comes, I roll away from my position to prevent my being part of another attack by the standing Cross… And I wind up rolling right on top of my kendo stick. Not exactly a pleasant feeling, to say the least. But, this will help things along. Also helping things along is the fact that Cross is helping me to my feet… All according to plan. A very haphazard and last-minute plan, but… As Cross gets me to my feet, I get the kendo stick in a ‘choked-up’ swinging position. He notices this just a bit too late as I play Barry Bonds, rear back, and… ----- CCCCCRRRRRAAAAACCCCCKKKKK!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! “By the short hairs on Zeus’ chin!” Comet exclaims as Cross nearly cartwheels over himself, with a solidly fresh and bright red welt on the underside of his chin. “Citizen Fury almost played home run ball with Cross’ head, Bobbo!” “It was a wicked shot to say the least,” Riley agrees. Fury, watching Cross go to all fours on the mat, turns on the sneakily advancing Dagda, brandishing the kendo stick with a gleam in his eye. Dagda smartly holds his hands up in what is classically called “The French Call To Arms”, and waves his arms in surrender, backing into the corner. “But there’s one small issue, Cyclone.” “Oh?” “He still didn’t draw blood on Cross.” Now we find that Dagda is right in the corner, still waving his hands like he’s casting some sort of ward against the advancing ball of hate called Christian Fury. And somewhere in the front of the crowd, someone yells out something regarding Dagda and a resemblance to something called a “cheese-eating surrender monkey”. The rest of the crowd just goes BBBBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! “For some reason,” Comet states, “I don’t think Citizen Dagda’s pleas for peace are going to be answered.” And almost on cue, Fury raises the kendo stick h… i… g… h… over his head… “I don’t think they need to be answered!” Riley retorts smugly. “Just you watch!” And with those words, Fury brings the kendo stick swinging down at an alarming rate of speed, destined to split Dagda’s head down to the spine… WHAM!!!!! BBBBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! And Fury drops the kendo stick, screaming in pain, hands instantly gripping at his two best friends, and we’re not talking about the kendo stick and the crowd. Dagda grins at himself, taking in the jeering crowd, and seeming to enjoy himself way… too… much… As he looks like a man in the throes of passion. “What a disgusting display by Dagda in more ways than one!” Comet states, clearly nauseated. “A blatant low blow on Citizen Fury as he was about to narrow down the competition!” “I know!” Riley gushes as Fury drops to the mat in man-pain. “Isn’t it wonderful?” Dagda looks around from his corner perch, and spies a new toy: Fury’s kendo stick! He picks it up, tests the weight… Looks at the writhing Fury, then looks at Cross, who’s starting to recover. He grins, and slowly approaches with one thought gleaming in his eyes. “This could be the turning point that the dirty no-gooder needs!” Comet sighs in dismay. “Sounds like your script got re-written tonight by the new guy too, Comet.” “Seems so.” Meanwhile, back at the ranch… Ring… Whatever… Dagda stands behind Cross like some sort of avenging angel of wrath. Cross, oblivious to it all except for the cheering masses, manages to get to his knees. Just the moment Dagda was waiting for as… CCCCCRRRRRAAAAACCCCCKKKKK!!!!! Cross buckles with the kendo shot, threatens to topple, but doesn’t fall… CCCCCRRRRRAAAAACCCCCKKKKK!!!!! Again Cross buckles, but this time… YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! …He rises to one knee. CCCCCRRRRRAAAAACCCCCKKKKK!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! …He rises to his feet. CCCCCRRRRRAAAAACCCCCKKKKK!!!!! …And he turns around… Looking Dagda dead in the eyes… No expression to his face. Dagda looks stunned for a moment, then raises the kendo stick above his head, and swings down quickly… SLAP!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! The only thing the kendo stick catches this time is the palm of Cross’ hand as HE CATCHES IT in mid-flight! “I don’t believe it, Citizens!” Comet breathes. “Cross coming back from being beaten down multiple times with that kendo stick to face down the aggressor!” Meanwhile, Cross feints back a step… Dagda bites, pulling back as well in preparation for a big move. Cross simply pulls the kendo stick a little and lets go… THA-WHAP!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! The kendo stick, which had a little bend in it, immediately comes back and slaps Dagda in the head! “Oh, the super-humanity!” Comet says, chortling to himself. “Citizen Cross just embarrassing the rookie out there now.” Cross immediately asserts his offensive advantage, starting with a kick to the gut, doubling Dagda over… Into a quick rising knee! And as Dagda reels backwards… Cross launches out with one of his staples: The crescent kick combo! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! But Cross isn’t done… With Dagda dazed and slightly staggered, Cross rushes backwards into the ropes, looking to rebound… But doesn’t! Better yet, his momentum almost takes him tumbling forward in what would’ve been a less than elegant heap! As he stops himself, Cross looks down, finding the source of his sudden inability to rope-bounce. One nearly-forgotten Christian Fury, with arms wrapped around his right ankle. “Christian Fury, the momentum killer!” Riley utters out of nowhere, and then with a sigh, “We have to get new writers…” Cross kicks his trapped leg out, and out… Then plants his boot squarely on Fury’s forehead. Fury’s brain gets the sent message, making his arms disentangle themselves from Cross’ leg. Having freed himself and been given enough room to work, Cross gives a quick bounce on the ropes and careens forward, sights set squarely on the still-dazed Dagda. Dagda, however, proves to have quite the poker face. You see, as Cross raises the boot up high for his favored every-match move, the Yakuza Kick, Dagda breaks out with one of his common staples: SSSSSPPPPPEEEEEAAAAARRRRR-----OOOOO!!!!! And considering that Cross is traversing forward, with one leg up... The only thing Dagda can hit with the aforementioned Spear is Cross’ planted leg. So under the raised leg and through the plant leg Dagda goes, sending the plant leg back. And Cross, without a leg to stand on… Ha ha ha… Goes straight down and into a most unintentional, and for that reason most painful, splits position! OOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! At least half of the male audience members empathize with the searing pain going through Cross’ groinal area currently as he writhes in agony, trying to straighten himself out. “Wow,” Riley utters in a pained voice. “Okay, I have to admit… That was pretty awful…” “You said it, Bobbo.” Dagda, one to take advantage of a ripe situation and to help his fellow man, puts Cross on his side. With a quick super kick, straight to the nose! BBBBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! Cross sags to the side, finally getting his legs from the splits, but with his hands instantly up to his face. The referee, who’s been quite absent seeing as this is a hardcore match, suddenly comes sliding into the ring, looking at Cross critically… He tries to pry Cross’ hands from his face, but then looks down… …At the crimson droplets on the mat! The ref signals for the bell. BBBBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! “The first elimination from this three-way match due to bleeding,” Funyon intones, “DAVID CROSS!” “Wow, Bobbo,” Comet states as Dagda struts around in the ring. “Dagda with that super kick, probably busted Cross’ nose. But, he got the elimination. A cheap one though.” “Yeah, but a bleed’s a bleed! And we can see that Fury is hiding from the chaotic onslaught that is Danny D!” The ref rolls Cross out of the ring, and out from under the baleful gaze of Danny Dagda. “I doubt he’s hiding, but you do bring up a good point… Where –is- Citizen Fury?” ----- (A few moments prior…) Well… Only in this sport can you say getting kicked in the head is a way to get plans rolling. After Cross gets himself out of my hold by firmly pushing the Off button attached to my arms, I get to thinking: What can I do to maximize the chances of getting someone bloody? It was then that the plan formed. While Cross and Dagda pound away in the ring, I gather my resources… Well, only really one thing needed, but as soon as I get it set up, I hear something half-disturbing, and half uplifting: “The first elimination from this three-way match due to bleeding… DAVID CROSS!” That leaves Dagda. And that’s the way I want it. I climb back up, sliding into the ring as I see Dagda watching Cross get helped out of the squared circle. I also see he still has my kendo stick. That kinda pisses me off. So I come up to him, and tap him on the shoulder. He turns. Fool. Before he can even react, I grab him by one arm, and haul him into the other extended arm, leveling him out with a short-arm clothesline. A nice one, if I do say so myself. YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! Apparently the fans agree. And he so nicely dropped my kendo stick! I pick it up, thanking him by jamming a knuckle into his temple. But apparently he doesn’t appreciate my thanks as he grabs my head, and drives his up into it… CRACK!!!!! Blink… Blink… Ouch, things are kind of a bright white, but fading. I’m sitting, but not for long as Dagda grabs my arm and drags me up. Then… I get sent for a ride… Off the ropes… I blindly duck… YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! Apparently the right answer. I hear Dagda curse as I hit the other set of ropes and bounce back… We’ll try ducking aga… THUMP!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! As I feel a bony protrusion cave in my stomach, I stagger back. Wrong answer that time. But… My vision’s finally cleared to the point where I can see Dagda charging… And I’m on the wrong side of the ring. Damn. I dart left real quick, and he bounces harmlessly off the ropes. He recovers, comes at me again… And it’s time to ring the bell as… CRACK!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! The ol’ double spinning backfist. Love it. One more again… CRACK!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! He’s staggering now. Now, let’s try the stick… Grab it off the ground… Short, compact swing, eye on the target, and… WHISH!!!!! BBBBBOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! He ducked! Oh well… Knee to the gut… Pull him in, headscissor… Trade the stick for his midsection… Lift up… And… WHAM!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! Down we go! Now… Quickly… We’re right by the ring edge… Roll him out… There… YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! Heh… They didn’t notice the table in the shadow of the ring… At least, most didn’t notice. And he fits there so nicely. Now… Back onto the apron… YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! Yes, yes, I know… This is gonna be great for you all… It’s been a while since I pulled this one out, so… Here goes! Grab the ring ropes… Jump up… Land on the second rope, let it spring, jump and flip back, and chest… First… CCCCCRRRRRAAAAASSSSSHHHHH!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! Oh Hell in a hand basket, that hurt! I wonder, as I’m laying here in the pieces of table if it worked… Pieces of table… Wait… Pieces of table… Crowd? YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! Cheering… There’s the ref… He’s checking me out… And there’s a body under me, I can feel it. I nailed it… Sweet! Damn… It would suck though if the ref found me bleeding first… Oh… Wait… I roll a little out of the way… The ref looks down… Yep… There’s Dagda. I see him now, and… Blood! Some of the table splinters have blood on them But is it his or mine? I look down at myself, what I can see… I don’t notice anything. I don’t feel anything… Actually… Wow, I don’t feel much of –anything-. Kinda tingly numb again. The ref once-overs Dagda again, then me again, then Dagda rolls slightly, trying to get to his feet. I do the same, feeling groggy, sore, and much like Wile E. Coyote probably did on more than one occasion… The ref looks at us… Double-takes… And animatedly calls for the bell! DING DING DING! The crowd is somewhat stunned by is drop to a dull roar as the ref approaches us both… He looks us over one more time, then… YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! He raises my hand! Dagda looks in absolute shock as I hear Funyon’s voice over the speakers: “The last competitor eliminated due to bleeding… DANNY DAGDA! The winner of the match… CHRISTIAN… FUUUUURYYYYY!!!!!” YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! Dagda starts in the ref’s face, screaming beet red and bad-blood blue. I smile, soaking in the fans, much like I’ll soak in a nice bath of steam, ice packs, and pain meds. I’ve returned. I’ve made the first step, won my first match, and am already contending for my first title. Life can’t get much better than that. I watch as Comet and Riley doggedly recount the match. Dagda, meanwhile, is pitching an absolute shit fit at the ref. The crowd… YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! …Is cheering, calling my name… Not only for the win, but for a fun match. Fun. Yes, as I’m dragging my tattered ass back up the ramp towards the dressing rooms, I can honestly say I’m having fun again for the first time in a long time… “Well,” I tell myself with a weary chuckle, “at least until morning…”

The camera pans around the fans packing the Compaq Center, slowly settling in for the night’s events. There is still a steady stream of fans in the aisles, moving in both directions as some try to find their seats and others head to the concession stands, inexplicably more interested in getting a t-shirt during the match featuring an unknown newcomer named “Uncle Filthy” than a title bout. Referee Nick Lumas is already in the ring as Funyon enters, clutching a microphone. The crowd starts to quiet down as he begins the ring introductions. Funyon: “Introducing first, making his SWF debut here tonight...he weighs in at two-hundred fifty-six pounds and hails from The Magical World of Your Imagination...being accompanied to the ring by Cap’n Plundah and Gorilla Pete...UNCLE FILTHY!” Funyon retreats to a neutral corner as the instrumental Jazz From Hell version of Frank Zappa’s “Let’s Make The Water Turn Black” begins playing over the house speakers. Gorilla Pete and Cap’n Plundah clumsily dance out onto the ramp, enthusiastically waving to the crowd and trying to start an “Un-cle Fil-thy” chant. They fail at this, but there are a few scattered cheers, mostly from kids and obviously stoned college students. Uncle Filthy’s wheezing, vaguely snarling voice booms over the music... “Whaddaya say, kids!?” A scattered few people who recognize Uncle Filthy from the independent circuit respond with “UNCLE!”, while the rest of the crowd sits quietly or talks among themselves. Uncle Filthy steps out onto the top of the ramp, carrying the Magic Bindle over his shoulder. He waves to the crowd then breaks into a run, quickly reaching ringside then ducking between the ropes. He stands in the center of the ring and unbuttons his sweater, revealing the inspirational t-shirt of the day...a white t-shirt reading “DOGPILE ON THE POOR KID” in blue block letters. Comet: This is how much faith they have in Uncle Filthy...he doesn’t even get lighting cues. Gorilla Pete and Cap’n Plundah dance their way to ringside, drawing confused stares and mild revulsion from the majority of the crowd. Uncle Filthy takes his corner, passing the Magic Bindle out to Cap’n Plundah as the music fades out. Funyon steps back into the center of the ring, raising his microphone to speak... Funyon: And his opponent...competing in his first match since returning to the SWF...fighting out of Sydney, Australia and weighing in at two-hundred and twenty-four pounds...STRYKE! *WHOOOOOOOOOOOOM!* A massive wall of blue and silver pyro fires up all across the stage, Cypress Hill's "How I Could Just Kill A Man" kicking into action as Stryke steps out onto the stage. A wave of boos goes through the crowd as Stryke saunters down the ramp, soaking up the crowd's hatred as he makes his way to ringside. He ducks through the ropes, pauses to look out over the crowd, then, as the chorus of his theme music hits, steps to the second turnbuckle and raises his arms to the crowd. This enrages the crowd even more, as they boo Stryke and even start up a quiet and short-lived “Un-cle Fil-thy” chant out of pure spite. “Stryke Sucks” appears to be the much more popular chant tonight, though, and it’s already ringing from the stadium rafters. Stryke stares Uncle Filthy down from across the ring, tensing his quadricep muscles in a shallow squat as he prepares to attack. Uncle Filthy snarls at him, putting up his dukes, although he can’t seem to keep them level with each other. Comet: Stryke is going to be looking to outmaneuver Uncle Filthy in this match. From what I’ve heard, he’s got Uncle Filthy outclassed in every area except raw power, he has to keep moving and keep Uncle Filthy off a vertical base! Stryke starts to move forward, but checks his step. Uncle Filthy charges headlong at Stryke. Stryke is already three steps ahead of Uncle Filthy, sidestepping him, grabbing his arm, and shooting him into the ropes with an Irish whip! Comet: Stryke completely faked him out! If Uncle Filthy’s going to fall for something like that, this is going to be a very short match. Uncle Filthy rebounds back-first off the ropes...and Stryke is already airborne! He hits a dropkick with surgical precision, planting both feet on Uncle Filthy’s chest. Uncle Filthy sprawls backward into the corner, grabbing the ropes to hold himself up. Stryke lands on his side but is on his feet almost instantly. Stryke charges the corner... *SMACK!* ...and rocks Uncle Filthy with a European uppercut! Uncle Filthy’s head snaps back on impact, but he stays on his feet! Comet: Uncle Filthy is not impressing these fans! Look! That kid just flipped him off! There are some scattered cheers for Stryke (amid the much louder boos), and a faint “Un-cle Fuck-er” chant is starting up. Stryke takes a step back, then lunges into a full three-hundred and sixty degree spin, coming all the way around to blast Uncle Filthy with a rolling forearm! Uncle Filthy’s eyes roll back as he slumps into the corner. He catches himself against the middle ropes, managing to stay on his feet. Stryke mocks him as he hauls himself back up, not noticing that Uncle Filthy actually is getting back up kind of quickly… Stryke grabs Uncle Filthy by the forearms, pulling him all the way up to his feet. He hauls him out of the corner, holding him by the shoulders and setting him up for... *WHUBANG!* Uncle Filthy snaps his neck forward, knocking foreheads with Stryke! Both men reel on their feet, but neither goes down! Riley: Uncle Filthy with a headbutt out of nowhere! Uncle Filthy seems to have gotten the crowd’s attention. The “Un-cle Fuck-er” chant is dying down, and an actual cheer is clearly and distinctly heard. Uncle Filthy grabs onto Stryke’s shoulders... *WHUBANG!* Uncle Filthy fires off another headbutt, before he can fully feel the effects of the first one on his own dome. Uncle Filthy’s forehead connects squarely with the bridge of Stryke’s nose, and he collapses in a heap. Uncle Filthy drops down to one knee, planting his hand on the mat to stop himself from falling forward. Riley: Uncle Filthy put a LOT of power behind those headbutts! I think he surprised Stryke there! Comet: He surprised me, too. I thought he was dead. Uncle Filthy powers himself up to his feet. He’s still shaking cobwebs as he grabs Stryke by the neck and pulls him up into a standing side headlock. Stryke is already struggling as Uncle Filthy tries to take him down with a DDT. Stryke blocks it, refusing to budge. Uncle Filthy fires a couple of quick punches into Stryke’s ribs with his far arm, but can’t manage much force because of the angle. He hauls back and tries for the DDT again, jumping up to...*WHAM!* NORTHERN LIGHTS SUPLEX! Stryke wraps his arms around Uncle Filthy’s waist, and, using his own momentum, takes him right over with a Northern Lights! He struggles a little to bring Uncle Filthy over the top of the arc, but drops him solidly on his back. Arched backward, he holds on for the bridge... ONE... TW...SHOULDER UP! Uncle Filthy rolls hard to the side, breaking the pinfall and causing Stryke to fall on his back. Uncle Filthy, quickly recovering from the suplex, lunges at Stryke on all fours. He grabs Stryke’s shoulder and turns him over to face the mat. Uncle Filthy awkwardly throws an arm over Stryke’s neck, going for a front facelock, but Stryke easily pushes away! Comet: That is not how you apply a front facelock! You don’t even need to be a wrestler to know that! Stryke hooks Uncle Filthy by his neck, trapping one arm and lifting him to his feet. Uncle Filthy swings at Stryke with his free arm, but Stryke is in a controlling position. Comet: Uncle Filthy is giving this match away! Stryke hauls Uncle Filthy up to his feet. In one swift motion, Stryke turns himself around and Uncle Filthy over, ending up in perfect position for a reverse neckbreaker! Uncle Filthy’s neck bends backward over Stryke’s shoulder, then snaps forward, his chin driving into his chest as he lands flat on his back on the canvas. There still aren’t many cheers for Uncle Filthy, but the boos for Stryke are getting louder by the minute. Stryke turns Uncle Filthy over, then runs across the ring, turning to hit the ropes back-first. He rebounds and runs directly at Uncle Filthy, going airborne three paces short of stepping on him and landing dead-center on his lower back with a double-foot stomp! Stryke steps back and swings a leg over Uncle Filthy, hooking his arms and shifting his weight onto his lower back. He sits down, forcing Uncle Filthy down to the mat and locking his hands around his chin to apply the camel clutch! Uncle Filthy is still groggy, trying to push himself up but unable to lift Stryke’s weight. Comet: Stryke’s already got the Stretch Plum in sight! He’s wearing down Uncle Filthy’s lower back, which both increases the damage that hold is going to do and reduces Uncle Filthy’s chances of powering out of it – the only way he could escape unless he suddenly learns how to counter moves. Uncle Filthy tries to shift to the side, but Stryke holds him in place. Cap’n Plundah panics and grabs the Magic Bindle, throwing it into the ring right at Nick Lumas’ feet. Lumas kicks it back out and turns around to face the Cap’n, threatening him with ejection. Cap’n Plundah flashes him the two hooks, holding up his index and middle fingers together in a crooked “hook” shape and balling his remaining fingers into fists. Gorilla Pete sees his opportunity. He vaults into the ring and hits the mat running. He yanks the keyboard off his neck and, building up as much speed as he can in half a ring worth of distance... *KERRACK!* ...blasts Stryke in the back of the head with it! The keyboard emits a little plastic death rattle as it connects, and two keys fall to the mat. Barely even breaking his stride, Gorilla Pete keeps running and dives through the ropes on the other side, appearing to Nick Lumas only as a brown blur at the edge his peripheral vision. Comet: I’m not even going to dignify this with a reaction. The fans react with a combination of cheers, boos and laughter, which clearly sounds a lot louder and more positive to Uncle Filthy than it does anyone else in the arena. Stryke starts coming back around and immediately tries to re-apply the camel clutch, but Uncle Filthy is able to struggle his way up to his hands and knees with Stryke on his back! Uncle Filthy bucks Stryke off, making him fall backward into a seated position on the mat! This shakes Stryke long enough for Uncle Filthy to crawl forward a few paces, then stagger up to his feet! Riley: He’s up! Uncle Filthy has already taken a beating, but he’s back on his feet! Stryke is just barely vertical when Uncle Filthy rushes him! Uncle Filthy dives into Stryke’s knees, taking the left one to the face but shaking it off, sending him *WHWHAP* hard to the canvas, which he hits first with his hips, then his back and the back of his head. Uncle Filthy stands up and drops a mismeasured elbow intended for Stryke’s midsection that connects with his right thigh. Uncle Filthy is momentarily confused, but regains his focus. He grabs Stryke by his shoulder and waist, pulling him up and turning him to face away. Uncle Filthy hooks his hands through Stryke’s legs and tries to lift him up. He winces in pain and clutches Stryke, setting him back down before successfully lifting him up on the second attempt. To increasingly loud cheers from the fans, Uncle Filthy holds Stryke up for a split-second before *THUMP* slamming him down right on his face! Riley: Uncle Filthy finally showing some signs of life! Comet: And all he needed was a few dozen shots to the head! Clutching his back and trying to stretch out, Uncle Filthy moves to stand over Stryke’s head. He grabs Stryke by the hair, pulling him up into an off-center standing head-scissors. Uncle Filthy cups his hands around the back of Stryke’s neck and *HWHAM!* sits out with a faceslam, spiking Stryke’s nose into the canvas! Riley: Uncle Filthy’s actually getting in enough offense to show hints of his strategy now! Uncle Filthy knows he needs to keep bouncing Stryke around, keep him from building up any speed. And he’s already starting to work the jaw and the bridge of the nose to soften Stryke up for that side faceslam finishing move. Comet: All I heard was “side”, “slam” and “finishing move”. Uncle Filthy grabs Stryke by the hair with one hand and the waistband with the other, and tosses him out of the ring through the first and second ropes. Stryke lands face-first on the mats at ringside, but quickly has hold of the guardrail, trying to pull himself back up. Uncle Filthy looks around at the crowd. The chants are getting even louder. “Who’s ready to LEARN!” Uncle Filthy screams, as loudly as he can manage. This actually gets a cheer from the fans. Uncle Filthy calls Cap’n Plundah over. Cap’n Plundah grabs the magic bindle and sprints around the ring to meet Uncle Filthy. He hands him something from his pocket. Uncle Filthy is still screaming, berserk with self-confidence. “Let’s learn about the letter B! B is for Batteries!” Uncle Filthy rails a handful of AA batteries at Stryke. They bounce off his back harmlessly, but the psychological damage is immense. Uncle Filthy grabs the Magic Bindle from Cap’n Plundah and takes a huge, arcing swing at Stryke. “B is for Bindle!” To a roar of approval from the crowd, Uncle Filthy connects, cracking the axe handle across Stryke’s neck. Stryke releases the guardrail and falls to the concrete. Uncle Filthy waves to the crowd, trying to encourage more cheers. “B is for...” Uncle Filthy looks around ringside. He sees only the ringsteps, a steel chair, the Magic Bindle that’s still in his hands, and the end of a metal toolbox sticking out from underneath the ring. Uncle Filthy looks expectantly at Cap’n Plundah, who just shrugs his shoulders. “B IS FOR!!” Stryke, clutching his back with one hand, is slowly pulling himself up the guardrail. Facing the crowd, he doesn’t notice Gorilla Pete run past him, holding out a banana. Uncle Filthy grabs the banana away from Gorilla Pete, shoves Cap’n Plundah out of the way, and charges at Stryke! The fans don’t even have time to start cheering. Stryke is up and waiting with perfectly timed kick to the midsection by the time Uncle Filthy reaches him! The banana goes flying as Uncle Filthy doubles over, the wind knocked out of him. The boos for Stryke are louder than ever as he bends Uncle Filthy down and swings one leg over his head. Stryke tenses, mustering all his strength to pull Uncle Filthy up for a piledriver! He can’t hold his weight up long enough to hit his usual stalling piledriver, but he falls back with a devastating pulling variation! Comet: B is for Brain Damage! Uncle Filthy wasted time playing to the crowd, and his moronic antics just cost him the match! He’s not going to recover from a piledriver on the outside! Stryke lifts Uncle Filthy up by the collar of his sweater and rams him headfirst into the ringpost! He lets Uncle Filthy fall to the arena floor before hoisting him up again, and revealing that he has been busted wide open! Blood is starting to run down Uncle Filthy’s forehead as Stryke rams him into the post for a second time. Comet: B is for Bleeding! Uncle Filthy winces as Stryke boots him in the ribs, rolling him over onto his back. More blood is forced out as he furrows his forehead in pain. Stryke ducks out of the ring and finds the banana. He re-enters the ring and, standing over Uncle Filthy, slowly peels the banana and takes a bite. The fans are on their feet booing Stryke as he peels the banana down to the bottom, then reaches down and mashes it into Uncle Filthy’s face. Comet: B is for Bitch! Stryke covers Uncle Filthy, hooking his far leg with a lateral press. Nick Lumas starts the count as the fans begin a last-ditch “Un-cle Fil-thy” chant. ONE... TWO... Stryke is already grinning as the “Stryke Sucks” chants start up again. THR...SHOULDER UP! A limited but intense cheer goes up as Uncle Filthy lifts a shoulder with Nick Lumas’ hand less than three feet from the mat! Comet: No! I really wanted this to be over! To Stryke’s disbelief, Uncle Filthy is starting to get to his feet. His injured back slows him down, though, and Stryke has plenty of time to get to his feet and move in on Uncle Filthy. Uncle Filthy is focused entirely on getting up and doesn’t even notice Stryke...until he’s close enough for a surprise knee to the lower midsection! Stryke is caught completely off-guard! Comet: And now Lumas is allowing blatant low blows! What did this lunatic do to earn these special priveleges?! Uncle Filthy takes a step back, then throws out a wild left hook to the face! Stryke’s head snaps to the side, but he quickly centers himself. Uncle Filthy is already throwing another punch, stomping down hard on the mat as he connects. He has a wild look in his eyes (and a strand of drool is hanging from his beard) as he takes in the cheers. “UN-CLE” *THUMP!* Uncle Filthy lands another big left hand to the face, but Stryke barely moves from the spot! Stryke starts bearing down on Uncle Filthy... “FIL-THY!” *THUMP!* Uncle Filthy throws a sweeping right hook, his sweater sleeve flailing behind his arm as he barely connects with his target, punching Stryke hard in the shoulder. Comet: Well, that’s just great. Uncle Filthy just blew a freaking punch. Unfazed and sensing weakness, Uncle Filthy launches into a massive spinning windup, windmilling his left arm to rev up a punch of Popeye-like proportions. “UN-CLE” Uncle Filthy gives his arm a few more spins, then fires off a huge uppercut... “FIL-THyyyyyyy...” ...that Stryke catches with ease! Comet: Did you see that!? Stryke got his arm up out of nowhere and blocked that closed- fist punch! Stryke demonstrating unbelievable resilience and skill there! And the fact that he’s demonstrating them on this demented old mutant makes it even more impressive! The crowd deflates in unison as Stryke cranks Uncle Filthy’s arm behind his back, applying a textbook hammerlock! Lifting Uncle Filthy up just enough to get the soles of his boots completely off the mat, Stryke extends his far knee and turns inwards, dropping Uncle Filthy backfirst across it! Comet: What a maneuver! Hammerlock backbreaker by Stryke, and he’s still holding on! Still holding the hammerlock on him, Stryke lifts Uncle Filthy back up to his feet, standing behind him. He steps between Uncle Filthy’s legs and releases the hammerlock, but only to free both arms to apply a simulatneous headlock and armbar. Uncle Filthy’s entire upper body is wrenched as he struggles, putting everything he has left into preventing Stryke from locking the hold on! Comet: There it is! Stretch Plum! With the damage that’s already been done to Uncle Filthy’s back, this will break him in half! Uncle Filthy is fighting like a wounded animal, swinging and thrashing at Stryke for all he’s worth. He’s able to struggle his head free and, twisting his own neck at a sharp angle, spit a mouthful of bloody banana pulp in Stryke’s face! A kid in the front row develops a complex that will take years of therapy to resolve. Uncle Filthy throws himself back against Stryke! He catches him off balance, taking both men down to the mat. Stryke is frantically rubbing at his face while Uncle Filthy scoops the banana away from his own eyes with his middle and index fingers, which he sticks directly in his mouth. Uncle Filthy’s face is a disgusting mask of blood and mashed banana. He holds his arms out in front of him, hands pointing down, and Frankenstein-shuffles toward Stryke. Stryke clears his eyes just in time to see Uncle Filthy right in his face. Uncle Filthy grabs Stryke by the arm and whips him chest-first into the ropes on the opposite side of the ring. Uncle Filthy runs right in behind him and, as he staggers back from the ropes, catches him with a running bulldog! The ring shakes visibly as Uncle Filthy drives Stryke’s face into the mat! Riley: I don’t believe it! Uncle Filthy is actually still in this match! Uncle Filthy goes for a quick cover, forgetting to hook Stryke’s leg. Nick Lumas starts the count... ONE... TWO... KICKOUT! Comet: Not enough! Uncle Filthy only got two! Riley: But he’s not letting Stryke up! He’s already got a headlock on him! Uncle Filthy lifts Stryke up into a standing side headlock, setting him up for a DDT. Uncle Filthy tries to drop down to the mat, but Stryke stays on his feet. Comet: Stryke blocks the DDT! He’s going for the Northern Lights again! Stryke throws his arms around Uncle Filthy’s waist and powers him up for a Northern Lights suplex...but he can’t take Uncle Filthy over! Instead of jumping, Uncle Filthy bears down on Stryke’s neck, sandbagging him. Riley: This time Uncle Filthy knows what to do! Stryke lacks the lifting strength to just power Uncle Filthy over, so as long as he actually knows how to block the move, he can! Stryke’s entire body visibly tenses as he tries for the Northern Lights suplex again. Comet: Stryke’s got a good shot at ending this match here, all he has to do is take the old man over! Styrke tries to lift Uncle Filthy again, lifting the soles of his boots off the mat. Stryke summons one last burst of strength, and...Uncle Filthy leans inward and hooks his far arm around Stryke’s hips. Uncle Filthy lifts Stryke up, breaking his grip on his waist, and holds him parallel to the mat for a split-second before kicking his legs out! *WHUMP!* Uncle Filthy slams Stryke face-first on the canvas! Show’s Over, Kids! Riley: Stryke didn’t have the strength to get Uncle Filthy up for that suplex, and he got so caught up in trying that he left himself open for the Show’s Over, Kids! Poorly synchronized “Un-cle Fil-thy” chants are starting to build up throughout the stands. Uncle Filthy looks down at Stryke, then up at the crowd. Comet: Look at Uncle Filthy, wasting time pandering to the crowd again! He’s going to waste another prime opportunity because he’s too busy pandering to those braying jackasses! Clearly using every ounce of his willpower, he looks away from the crowd, uses his boot to roll Stryke over onto his back, and covers him, hooking both his legs and covering him too low on his torso. Nick Lumas is already in position to start the count... ONE... TWO... THREE! Nick Lumas calls for the bell! Comet: He won!? Uncle Filthy WON?! I would not want to be Stryke right now! Funyon enters the ring, microphone in hand. Funyon: Ladies and gentlemen, your winner...UNCLE FILTHY! Gorilla Pete and Cap’n Plundah enter the ring to help Uncle Filthy to his feet. They briefly enjoy the cheers from the crowd while Stryke’s music begins playing. It quickly cust out and, a few seconds later, is replaced by “Let’s Make the Water Turn Black”. Cap’n Plundah and Gorilla Pete dance around Uncle Filthy as Stryke skulks away from the ring.

Well here's something straightforward: is ANYBODY open to book the show tonight? I've got three tests tomorrow to study for and the effort that booking will take will ruin me. I can easily post the show on time, but... well, yes, if no one volunteers, expect a card more a long the lines of "tomorrow" as opposed to "today." I don't really want to throw the schedule off, so -- Thoth, Zed, Edwin, ANYONE... if you're around. Help.

I've already talked to TBS and Silent over the phone before. They were bad enough. I'm sure *I* was bad enough, too. But you, Thoth, are on an entirely different level of... uhm, bad enough. EDIT: Oh, and to answer your question -- no.

Continued... Rock on, and stuff.

Oh shit. I have loaded up.

Wow. I definitely saw it coming, but I just was listening to the Ramones the other day for the first time in like a year, and was remembering just how loveable they were. RIP Joey, Johnny, and DeeDee.

I don't listen to them too regularly, but they pretty much do what they do in their style better than anyone else out there. Loads of fun for the car and with friends and whatnot, but I would rarely just want to sit down in my room alone and listen them. Definitely a band that's best served by specific environments. It should be noted that they're really the only band that I've ever heard of Morrissey liking. Oh, and early Roxy Music.

The Smartmarks wrestling Federation presents... SWF SMARKDOWN, MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 13TH… LIVE FROM THE GUND ARENA IN CLEVELAND, OHIO! ... AGAIN!! (5:00pm PCT, 8:00pm EST; check local listings) Send marked matches, promos, etc. to realitycheck Three match card of sparseness, but I expect EVERYONE to promo here. I repeat, IF YOU WANT TO BE BOOKED FOR GENESIS, DON’T EXPECT TO BE UNLESS YOU AT LEAST WRITE *SOMETHING*. A few people like Toxxic and MVS have already informed me that they can’t write at all, but even they should try. Let’s make Genesis V live up to its name, eh? Anyhow… there are lots of feuds and storylines abound here… Johnny’s got a title defense at Genesis. What are his thoughts on this? What’s up with this new Dagda kid? And what about the Suicide King? Will he finally make a long-awaited return to the SWF ring? YOU CAN EXPECT A BUTTLOAD OF THIS SORT OF STUFF! JUST TUNE IN! YEAH! LAST MATCH EVAR BEFORE GENESIS FIVE OHMYGOD!!!! “Grand Slam” Mark Stevens vs. Johnny Dangerous ~ Both men have got big plans for the biggest show of the year, but first they must fight eachother to the death! Makes enough sense. A win here could solidify Dangerous as one of the federation’s best modern competitors, while a win for Mark could prove that he’s finally and completely shaken off all of that damned ring rust… So yes, fight. Rules: Standard-palooza! Word Limit: 6000 Send To: realitycheck ESCAPE-ONLY RULES CAGE MATCH OF DOOM!! “The Icon” Max King vs. Candace ~ Candace is making some WACKY progression as a character, and Maddix is still wanting to prep himself up for his Genesis match. Eh, throw them together, only one comes out. Huzzah! Do your best pre-Genesis, my pretties! Rules: It’s a cage match, so no disqualifications and all that fun stuff. No pins or submissions. One can win ONLY by escaping the cage by going OVER the top. The door is on vacation. Word Limit:5500 Send To: 5_moves_of_doom HANDICAPPED HARDCORE MATCH OF DOOM! Andrea Montgomery and Birdman vs. Danny Dagda Oh shit. Dagda barked up the wrong tree. And that tree is Zed. See where putting your feet on the commissioner’s desk gets you!? DO YOU SEE!? Rules:Everyone in the ring at once. No DQ’s or count-outs. First to get a pin or submission wins. Woo. Word Limit: 5000 Send To: Thoth

Yeah huh. Whataya ignant? As far as I remember back when I was loading up on the Residents, pretty much everything of theirs being sold on amazon was completely out of stock.

Find someone who's willing to have a match booked a day late against you (or two people) and then have Zed or I edit it in. That'll be fine, but we don't want to book a match and have people complaining that now they don't have enough time to write. EDIT: Johnny, I'm really, really sorry. I guess I just accidentially deleted your PM or something and didn't ever read it. Write if you can... otherwise, we'll work something out maybe. Or PM Mark and see if you guys can work out some type of agreed ending that helps both of your Genesis storylines. I dunno.

Zappa works. You might also like Sonic Youth's first album. Oh, here's a good one -- find some Residents. Not on amazon or anything, so you'll have to do some looking, but maybe someone will link you. Look them up on allmusic.com. Duck Stab is my personal favorite of what I have. And since I know you're a Tom Waits fan... as far as crazy-good-lyric singer-song-writers go, you should DEFINITELY get The Essential Leonard Cohen. I think that if you look in the right places, what I've recommended will only cost you half of your money.

Nice show. Read the four promos. They're all very compelling. Card will be up soon, though I think it will be mainly a promo op. with just a couple of matches. PM me for any last-minute requests.

Riley: "I'm excited!" Comet: "Me too!" Riley: "Here we go!" The Smartmarks wrestling Federation presents... SWF LOCKDOWN, WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 8TH (GUILTY GEAR X2#RELOAD DAY!), LIVE FROM THE GUND ARENA IN CLEVELAND, OHIO! (5:00pm PCT, 8:00pm EST; check local listings) Opening Promo: Ace Lezaire PRE-GENESIS 6-MAN ELIMINATION MATCH Toxxic, “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins, & Ace Lezaire vs David Cross, Manson, & Dace Night With Genesis just around the corner, big matches are sure to happen on a special Sunday. But why can’t they happen now? Here’s one that will send the crowd home happy. Unless Spike wins and they get pissed and throw garbage. Just kidding Spike. You know I love you. Rules: DQ and countout apply. Survivor Series rules, tags and eliminations and all that. ICTV TITLE REMATCH The Masked Man vs Landon “La Cucaracha” Maddix© This match is happening again, due to a lot of fourth wall stuff that telling you here would break the illusion that we’re all not really wrestlers. Rules: Singles match, DQ and countout apply. MUTHA’ ****’N OLD SCHOOL MATCH Jamie Drazon vs “Grand Slam” Mark Stevens AWWWWW YEEEAAA, We kickin’ it old school up in this Geezy (Gund) fo’ sheezy with two people that knew how to rock it and roll it and they ain’t got to poll it to know it. Rules: Singles match, DQ and countout apply. CRUSIERWEIGHT MATCH The Birdman vs Tom Flesher With Ryan Dustin On Commentary Ryan Dustin will join our dynamic duo and call this match. But will he be able to stay in his seat, or take an opportunity to soften the champion up? Rules: Singles match, DQ and countout apply. Dustin may write a match if he feels like it. SUBMISSIONS MATCH “The Icon” Max King vs Todd Cortez Max King tunes up the band in preparation for Genesis, and he goes one on one with the Urban Legend. Rules: Submissionly only, no pinfalls. SINGLES MATCH Mike Van Siclen vs Sean Davis This match was cancelled on Storm due to inclement weather. ...yeah. Let’s try it again. Rules: Singles match, DQ and countout apply. HARDCORE #1 CONTENDERSHIP MATCH Austin Sly vs Candace These two will face off in a hardcore match for a shot at that sweet title we used to call the Hardcore Gamer’s Championship, which was cool because I’M A HARDCORE GAMER, BABY. Rules: None, really PLEASE WRITE A MATCH Bryan Levy vs Munich Please please please. Rules: Singles match, DQ and countout apply.

We come back from commercials to see the Gund Arena in Cleveland, Ohio still packed to the RAFTERS~ with screaming SWF fans. Although really, they’d have to be pretty stupid to leave before the main event of a card they’ve paid to see, especially when there’s the chance that two-thirds of Revolution Zero are going to get their asses kicked. “It’s time for the six-man elimination tag match, Citizens!” Cyclone Comet calls from the announce desk. “Featuring the devious combination of Toxxic, Spike Jenkins and the ‘Canadian’ Champion Ace Lezaire against the heroic trio of former champion David Cross, Manson and - who could forget - Dace F’n Night!” “I was trying to,” Riley grumbles. “I mean, we haven’t seen him since he lost to Drazon, why couldn’t he just stay away?” *BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!* The hard bassline strikes of Muse’s ‘Hyper Music’ ring out, announcing the arrival of the one and only Ace Lezaire, who strides out from behind the curtain with a cocky smile on his face and with his personal cameraman Steve in tow. He stands at the top of the stage and raises his arms to the heavens, thanking them for his looks and talent as... *BOOOM!* ...two tall bursts of pyro explode either side of him, before the Prodigy starts to make his way down to the ring. He attempts to slap hands with the fans, but most pull away and some even make obscene gestures. Tut, these Clevelanders. “Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is tonight’s MAIN EVENT~ and is a 6-Man Elimination Tag Match,” Funyon booms. “Making his way to the ring, accompanied by his personal cameraman Steve; from Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada; he weighs in tonight at 234lbs; he is the SWF Canadian Champion... ‘The Prodigy’ AAAAAAAAACE... LEEE-ZZZAAAAAAAIIIIRRRRRRRREEEEEEE!!” Ace hops up onto the ring apron, proudly polishing the golden belt around his waist before stepping through the ropes and into the ring while Steve makes sure he zooms in on the newly-named Canadian Title. “This young citizen has now won his first title in the SWF, and I would have said that it has gone to his head... if it was possible to fit any more arrogance in there,” Comet says with some disdain. “I sometimes have to wonder why the Gods see fit to bestow such ability on those who will only use them in pursuit of their own vanity.” “That’s a load of rubbish,” Riley replies. “Now pass me my mirror.” Ace persists in trying to interest Funyon in his new belt but the ring announcer isn’t paying any attention and a few moments later the Smarktron blazes white as every light in the arena hits ‘full’. For a few seconds the only sound that can be heard is a needle gently scratching over vinyl... then: ‘WEL-WEL-W-W-WELCOME TO THE REVOLUTION!’ Instantly, the brutal guitars of ‘Battle Ready’ by Otep drop in before lightning apparently spears down to the entrance stage, igniting red and gold pyros- *BOOOM!* -that erupt on either side of the entrance stage. As the smoke clears three figures become visible; one female with black-and-red dreadlocks, one dressed in black-and-yellow with a cocky smile on his face and one in a customised England soccer shirt which reads ‘sXe’ above the number ‘9’ on the back. Needless to say, the fans in the Gund Arena are less than welcoming, booing even louder than they did for Ace. “And his tag team partners,” Funyon bellows, “accompanied to the ring by Jet, at a combined weight of 443lbs; representing Revolution Zero, ‘Hollywood’ Spike Jenkins and the ‘Straight-Edge Sensation’... TOOOOOXXXXXXX-IIIIIIIIIIIIIIC!!” Toxxic ignores the crowd as usual, but Spike seems to have his fanclub in the house and it doesn’t take much (read: no) encouragement for him to go over and pose for pictures with a couple of emo girls by the rampside who giggle and titter as the California Man pats them both on the cheek, then dissolve into inconsolable emo tears as he leaves. However, help is at hand for the distraught girls because Jet bangs their heads together and forcibly inserts Dead Kennedys CDs into their Discmans, leaving them forever free of the tyranny of Dashboard Confessional. “And you say Revolution Zero are evil!” Riley chastises Comet. “They provide a valuable public service!” “This is America, Robert,” Comet preens, “the Citizens are allowed to listen to whatever trash they choose.” “I knew there had to be a reason you were still doing commentary.” Toxxic rolls into the ring under the ropes and climbs a turnbuckle, spreading his arms wide, palms flat as the crowd’s jeering reaches new heights. Unperturbed, the Straight-Edge Sensation strips his England shirt off (to a few whistles from the more impressionable girls in the crowd who are safely out of reach of Jet) and throws it down to the outside, while Spike takes off his jacket and hands it over to the timekeeper. “And their opponents...” ‘Painkiller’ by Death kicks in as the light flash red and white in time to the drumbeats, and the Gund Arena goes wild! The vocalist’s first scream roars out of the PA system and white pyro lights the entrance ramp from bottom to top, and as the song kicks into full gear Dace Night walks out, flanked by David Cross and Manson! “A display of solidarity by the second team for this evening,” Comet says, “although it might also be brought on by the knowledge that coming out separately would make them easy prey for their unscrupulous opponents...” “...at a combined weight of 747lbs,” Funyon continues, “David Cross, Manson and DACE-” “FUCKING!” “-NIIIGGGGGGHHHHHHHT!!” Dace walks down the ramp with his eyes fixed on the ring, while Manson raises his fists in the air and Cross strips off his jacket and signature cross in preparation for the test to come. The former USJL Champion’s gaze bores into the face of Ace Lezaire, who suddenly looks rather less confident... and with an explosive rush, all three men charge the ring! Even encumbered by jacket and cross, David Cross heads straight for Ace Lezaire who bails out of the ring, then holds the Canadian Championship up high to taunt the bigger man. Spike gets levelled by a Manson Yakuza kick and rolls out of the ring, while Toxxic goes toe-to-toe with Dace Night in the middle! Unfortunately for the Straight-Edge Sensation he is completely outclassed in the striking department and Dace stuns him with two elbow smashes before driving a knee into his gut and then driving another elbow (well, he only has two elbows so it was a different strike rather than a different actual elbow, if you get me) into the back of Toxxic’s skull to send him down to the mat. “YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” Roared on by the crowd, Dace hoists Toxxic back up again and starts firing vicious knife-edge chops into the sternum of the straight-edger. *CRACK!* “WHOOO!” *CRACK!* “WHOOO!” *CRACK!* “WHOOO!” With his adversary struggling on the ropes, Dace backs off for a second to wind up and comes back in with the ROLLING ELBOW~... but the blow intended to knock Toxxic to the outside misses as the slippery rookie ducks and dives forward under the strike! Dace turns to hunt for his wily opponent, but simply meets a European uppercut- *WHAM!* -before Toxxic leaps vertically and fires a dropkick straight into Dace’s jaw! The Hardcore Goth staggers but remains on his feet - that is, until Toxxic gets back up and immediately throws himself forward in a spinning heelkick that finally puts the bigger man down to the canvas. “So why don’t we run down the history between these two teams?” Riley asks Comet. “Explain why they’re competing here tonight?” “Well, the dastardly Ace Lezaire defeated Citizen Cross for the then-USJL belt in a triple threat match on Storm,” Comet recounts as Toxxic looks around to see if any of his teammates are ready to tag in, “no doubt he would like revenge.” “What about Spike and Toxxic? Or for that matter, Dace and Manson?” Riley presses. “Any reason for them to be here?” “Er... no.” “So why is it an elimination match?” “Your guess is as good as mine, Robert,” Comet concedes with a sigh. Toxxic decides that he has no real interest in hanging around to trade blows with Dace and hurries over to tag Ace Lezaire. The Canadian gulps as he becomes the legal man, but his expression clears as Dace picks himself up and makes his way to his corner... then his face falls again as Horrorcore tags in David Cross, who has now passed his precious jacket and cross to the timekeeper and advances on the Prodigy with malice aforethought. Lezaire quails and turns back to his corner, and with Spike Jenkins still regaining his wits on the outside he has no option but to tag Toxxic straight back in. The Straight-Edge Sensation was calling out to Spike, checking that his stablemate was OK, and was certainly not expecting to be called back into action - nevertheless, as David Cross accelerates across the ring with eyes only for the departing Lezaire Toxxic vaults up to the top rope and then into the ring to catch the oncoming hoss with a springboard dropkick! “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” “TOXX-IC SUCKS!” The straight-edger wastes no time upon landing, and immediately straddles the fallen Cross to begin hammering right hands down at his face. Cross tries to cover up with a certain amount of success, but Jefferson Harding is already counting: ‘ONE!’ ‘TWO!’ ‘THREE!’ ‘FOUR!’ ‘FI-’ Toxxic rolls away at the last second, then as David Cross rolls over to try and push himself up the Straight-Edge Sensation dives in with a basement dropkick to the big man’s temple! This time Cross is slower to rise, and by the time he does Toxxic has tagged Spike Jenkins in. David has just reached his knees when a stinging kicks slams into his ribs, knocking the breath from his lungs. Moments later another follows it before Spike backs up, lets out a yell and steps back in, whipping his foot towards Cross’ jaw- *WHAM!* -in an impact that sends the bigger man flat down to his back again! Spike drops down to attempt a cover, hooking the leg as he does so... ONE! TWO!! ...but David Cross kicks out, and the Gund Arena starts to cheer in response. “LET’S GET CROSS!” “LET’S GET CROSS!” “LET’S GET CROSS!” “...that has to be one of the more bizarre chants I’ve ever heard...” Riley states. ACE CAM! Steve zooms in on Ace Lezaire standing on the apron, watching Spike Jenkins take it to David Cross. A sly smile spreads across the face of Canada’s Greatest Hope and he reaches out his hand to the man from California, figuring that now the former champion is down he wouldn’t mind a piece of the action. Steve unfaithfully pans past his subject to briefly focus on the disgusted expression on Toxxic’s face as he watches the man who ran from Cross now clamour to get back into the ring with him, but Ace is intent on calling Jenkins back over and doesn’t notice. ACE CAM! Spike gets the dazed Cross into a front face lock and hauls him over to the corner where he accedes to Ace’s requests and tags the Prodigy in. Lezaire steps through the ropes and gracefully kicks the trapped Cross in the ribs. David staggers away clutching his midsection and Ace follows up by leaping into the air and scoring with a flashy dropsault that knocks the bigger man back down to the mat. “What brilliant strategy by Revolution Ace,” Riley exclaims, coming up with a name for the team on the spot. “Quick tags against the bigger man to keep themselves fresh, and David Cross in trouble!” “Highly original,” Comet mutters sourly. Ace now looks like he’s enjoying himself immensely and he slaps Cross a couple of times across the face while he starts to pull the bigger man up before applying a front facelock of his own. However, before Ace can go any further David fires up and rises fully to his feet with Ace over his shoulder, before twisting around and planting the Canadian Champion down with a monstrous spinebuster! *BANG!* “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Cross takes a couple of deep breaths and tries to focus his eyes - when he does he realises that it is Ace Lezaire he has just spinebustered, and he takes some pleasure in climbing atop the winded Canadian and starting to hammer punches in a manner similar to Toxxic’s earlier attack on him. Referee Jefferson Harding is just as unimpressed this time around... ‘ONE!’ ‘TWO!’ ‘THREE!’ ‘FOUR!’ ‘FI-’ David Cross only just pulls himself away in time, but that is still far too long as far as Ace is concerned while the Sovereign of Swagger is wondering exactly what he did to deserve this. Of course, there was that small matter of depriving the man of his title, but surely he can’t have taken it that hard...? *WHAM!* Ah. Well, apparently he did. “David Cross just stomped directly on Ace’s throat!” Riley yells in outrage. “Comet, are you defending the actions of this man!?” “Citizen Cross is perhaps a slightly heavy-handed minister of JUSTICE~ but he still answers to that high and noble calling,” Comet replies. “Besides, Citizen Lezaire is a foul and unworthy champion.” “So that’ll be a ‘yes’, then.” Jefferson Harding reprimands Cross vociferously for his actions, but the man from Oil City appears anything but remorseful. However, cooler heads are on hand and Dace Night calls to Cross to tag out, presumably reasoning that it will not only keep a fresh man in the ring but also prevent David from getting himself disqualified. Cross doesn’t seem exactly happy with this proposition but acquiesces, and hauls Ace over to the corner of the Angry Men With Black Hair where Manson tags in to continue the beating. “Yet another former USJL champion,” Comet notes as Mansonocity steps into the ring. “But of course,” Riley agrees, “that title’s been round the fed more than Amy Craven.” Manson goes to work on Ace with a selection of knees, elbows and chops as the crowd chants along, then hooks his man for a suplex but at the moment that Lezaire’s body is vertical above his head he brings him down again sharply into the canvas! Swiftly, the Denver native turns Ace over and hooks the leg... ONE! TWO!! ...but Ace kicks out this time, and Spike Jenkins steps back through the ropes without needing to break the pin. His movement hasn’t gone unnoticed by Manson though, and the Hate Machine beckons Hollywood back into the ring to come catch a beating for himself. Spike seems unwilling to take Manson up on his offer but continues to talk trash, then seems to gather his courage and re-enters the ring - but Jefferson Harding was waiting for this, and cuts him off. *CHING!* “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Which was exactly what Ace needed, as the Prodigy slams his forearm up into Manson’s happy-happy-joy-joy area from behind! Dace and Cross are outraged and step through the ropes to administer a righteous beating, but Spike has already exited the ring and Jefferson Harding rushes over to restrain the two angry men. Meanwhile Ace shuffles past Manson on his knees... pausing only to jab two fingers into the Hate Machine’s eyes for good measure. “This... this is... unspeakable...” Comet splutters while the Gund Arena absolutely shits all over Canada’s Best Hope as he continues his progress towards his corner. “Unspeakably brilliant?” Riley asks happily. “Yes Comet, it is! Ace is an example of how to get the job done with the least possible effort and he should be regarded as a role model for children in schools, not to mention most of our politicians.” Dace and Cross have finally been banished to the apron and can do no more than hold their hands out for tags whilst fuming at the unfairness of it all. Unfortunately, despite harbouring enough resentment to power Linkin Park through another three albums the two men are unable to transfer any of that power to Manson and the Hate Machine is trapped in his own blinded and testicularly-traumatised world in the middle of the ring. Ace Lezaire, however, has reached his own corner and tags Spike Jenkins in. *SMAK!* Spike comes through the ropes with a smile on his face and a song in his heart, ready to administer a beating to the downed Manson. He runs across the canvas, launches himself into the air with arm outstretched... “MOVE!” Dace and Cross yell at Manson, who rolls to one side... ...and Spike succeeds in driving the point of his elbow straight into the canvas, an action that causes even the mildly-concussed emo girls by the entrance ramp to shake their heads in disbelief. Hollywood grabs for Manson’s ankle with his other hand to try and stop the Hate Machine from escaping him, but this simply gives Manson a target to aim at and he lashes out with his other foot, managing to kick Spike directly in the head and shake him loose. As the California Man rolls away Manson rises up to his knees, judges the distance to his corner with eyes that are still blurry and lunges forwards- *SMA-* “I guess he still can’t see properly then - darn Citizen Lezaire’s evil fingers and his eye-pokery of doom!” Comet moans in frustration as Manson’s hand misses Dace’s by a good foot and the man from Denver ends up face first on the mat. This gives Spike a chance to recover and drag Manson away from his corner, then pull him upright. At this distance Manson has no problems focusing, however- *WHAM!* -and he swiftly takes Spike over with an appropriately-named STO! The junior straight-edger’s head bounces off the canvas, and now Manson has enough time to stumble to his corner and tag in Dace F’n Night, who steps through the ropes like a very angry Goth from Birmingham facing someone he doesn’t like very much. Such lack of allegory seems to terrify Spike, who scrambles back to his own corner with his head still ringing and tags in Toxxic. The Straight-Edge Sensation vaults lightly over the top rope to face off once more with the High Priest of Horrorcore. “Honestly,” Riley sighs, “Dave vs. Toxxic - why does Dace even bother anymore? It’s not like he’s ever going to win.” Dace motions Toxxic to come and get some, but the rookie simply flips a v-sign at his long-time adversary. Dace has never been the sort of Goth to take that lightly so he charges at his opponent and looks for a Yakuza kick. Toxxic easily ducks under, but Dace continues onto the corner anyway and smashes both Spike and Ace’s faces with an elbow smash apiece! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “Dace cased Ace’s face!” Comet yells. “Ladies and gentlemen, the SWF are now advertising for commentators,” Riley says. “English as a first language is an advantage, but clearly not necessary.” Dace turns back from the corner to find Toxxic waiting for him, but this time the man from Birmingham slaps the straight-edger’s dropkick out of the air, then picks Toxxic up and drives another elbow into his face. Toxxic reels away and Dace whips him into the far ropes, but Toxxic holds onto the top rope to prevent himself from rebounding into whatever high-impact monstrosity of pain the Hardcore Brummie has planned. Unfazed by his opponent’s evasive instincts Dace charges at him, but Toxxic drops down and pulls the top rope with him to send Dace careering over to the outside! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Dace starts to pick himself up and Toxxic slingshots himself clean over the top rope onto the High Priest of Horrorcore with a plancha to take him back down to the arena floor again! Jefferson Harding warns Manson and Cross not to interfere, and begins his count. ‘ONE!’ Toxxic rolls off Dace holding his back, but the Hardcore Goth is momentarily stunned and doesn’t rise immediately either. ‘TWO!’ Toxxic is first to his feet - Dace isn’t far behind, but the Straight-Edge Sensation slaps two feet into his temple with a basement dropkick while Horrorcore is still on his knees. ‘THREE!’ Both teams look ready to wage war as they taunt each other from opposite sides of the ring, but the ref keeps the dogs at bay while reaching- ‘FOUR!’ -in the count, which the crowd now starts to chant along to, sensing something exciting and potentially violent may happen, and they love it. Toxxic would gladly quench their thirst for violence, as long as Dace is on the receiving end. The Straight-Edge Sensation lifts Dace to his feet, but is immediately doubled over by the White Night, who grabs Toxxic by the arm and- ‘FIVE!’ -whips him across the concrete floor, sending him (hopefully) into the crowd divider! But much to his chagrin, Toxxic is able to leap up on top of the barrier, and after a few tense moments where he almost falls into the crowd, he finally gains his balance. ‘SIX!’ The crowd try to force their way past security to finally get their hands on the Straight-Edge Sensation, but the burly guards keep them at bay while Dace groans, charging across the floor, planning to knock Dace into the sea of fans- *WHAM!* -but Toxxic displays his great speed and agility, turning in a half-circle in mid-air, before crashing into Dace with a flying clothesline! ‘SEVEN!’ Dace tries to crawl away from the wreckage, Toxxic also landing hard, much to the crowd’s delight. The Horrorcore Night reaches the bottom of the ramp way, encouraged by the fans who cheer him on… ‘EIGHT!’ … but Team Heel puts their devious plan into motion, as Spike enters the ring, stomping towards the opposite corner in plain view of Jefferson Harding, who immediately forgets his count to keep order in the ring. The Faces are all but happy to adhere to Spike’s request, but Harding pushes them away, desperately trying to keep order… … little does he know, Ace Lezaire lowers his head and slinks past the corner of the ring, motioning for Steve to follow him so as to get more camera time. “Citizen Lezaire is on his way to strike down the White Night, and Jenkins is keeping the referee tied up!” Comet cries in an uproar. “It’s downright despicable and I’ll have none of it!” Riley drags Comet back down to his seat. “Settle down Freak, there’s nothing you can do. Ace has put brilliant plan into motion, and now he’s going to make sure Dace is counted out. Although having someone with a big camera following you isn’t the stealthiest thing to do…” The fans at ringside yell and holler; trying to warn Dace while Ace puts a finger to his lips and tells them to Shhh, but they continue to. Their cries get louder and louder as Lezaire approaches Dace, ready to take him down with his USJL title- *BAM!* … “RRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” -but Dace suddenly shoots forward, clobbering Ace with an Elbow to the jaw! Lezaire collapses on his back, the fans going insane as Dace climbs to his feet, ready for more. The White Night turns his attention back to the Straight-Edge Sensation, but it proves to be a second too late as Toxxic hops up onto the guard rail, takes a few long strides and leaps forward, latching onto Dace’s neck and whirling around- *CRASH!* -planting Dace with a Tornado DDT on the steel ramp way! The fans are on their feet, protesting as loud as they can, finally drawing Jefferson Harding’s attention as Ace climbs back on the ring apron in his corner, protesting innocence, albeit while rubbing his jaw, while Spike returns, giving Lezaire a nod while Harding counts- ‘NINE!’ -but neither Dace or Toxxic move, lying on the cold steel while the fans chant around them DACE F’N NIGHT! DACE F’N NIGHT! DACE F’N NIGHT! Toxxic finally gets to his feet, groaning, but certainly better off than Dace is. Harding begins to raise his arms into the air, as Toxxic tries to stagger back into the squared circle, but- ‘TEN! Ring the bell!’ Harding calls to ringside as Toxxic slams his fist on the canvas, cursing himself as he and Dace are officially eliminated. Spike reels from the blow of losing his leader in this match, but he decides to step up, climbing into the ring and daring an opponent to enter the ring, and Manson obliges to a big pop. Toxxic nods to his disciple, before turning back to Dace, planning to take his frustrations out on someone, and Dace seems the perfect target- “RRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” -but before he can take another step, he catches sight of the World Champion himself, Johnny Dangerous, standing at the top of the ramp! The Secret Agent has a huge smile on his face as he wags his finger, raising a microphone to his mouth. “It’s the World Champion, Robert! He has graciously awarded us with his presence! And it looks like he has something to say to that slimy naredowell Toxxic!” “Gee, you think?” comes Riley’s blunt reply as Jet looks on from ringside, worried about what might happen… “Tut, tut,” says Dangerous, World title slung across his shoulder. “Wasn’t that a silly mistake, hmm? Getting yourself counted out, imagine that. Y’know, no wonder you couldn’t keep this title, being so inept…” Dangerous pauses to let the fans show whose side their on, and they’re firmly behind the champ as Toxxic glares with pursed lips and a cold stare. “I hope history doesn’t repeat itself, or you’ll need your buddies to bail you out because you can’t do it on your own, such a shame.” This causes the fans to go wild, feeling the blow to Toxxic’s ego and loving it. Without saying anything, Toxxic makes a beeline for Johnny, charging up the ramp way as the two go head to head, exchanging blows! Jet is split between what to do, but she has confidence in her man and stays put, ready to offer any assistance to Spike and Lezaire, even if the Canadian creeps her out, winking and waving a little too much… “Citizen Dangerous ignites the crowd as he finds Toxxic at his weakest, adding yet more fuel to this intense feud!” “Oh, don’t you worry Comet,” answers Riley, trying to reassure himself. “When the time comes, Toxxic will wipe that stupid smile of Johnny’s face, and become once again.” The action between the champion and the challenger as everyone, even the combatants in the ring looking to the ramp way, but as the action between the two spills behind the curtain, Spike blindsides Manson with a forearm to the back of the head! Manson tries to turn back around, but Spike is too quick for him, grabbing him by the neck and slamming him down with a Neckbreaker! Spike quickly covers as Harding slides over to count ONE! TWO!! But Manson shoots a shoulder up, much to the fans delight. Spike lifts him back onto his feet quickly, whipping Manson into an empty corning, away from Cross, before taking a few steps back and taunting the crowd. “Spike’s going to do Toxxic proud and take out Manson with a Tidal Wave, just as he would have wanted.” Riley beams. I wouldn’t be so sure, Robert, with the unpredictable mess this match up has been so far, anything and everything could happen…” Taking a running start, Spike flips into a handspring, then flies towards Manson, ready to kick him in the face for the KO- WHOOOOOOOSH… -but Manson ducks underneath, and Spike spins around, mouth open, landing right on his face! His leg overextending, pain coursing through it, Spike tries to crawl away, but Manson is on him in a flash, grabbing him by the injured leg and sitting on his back, locking on an elevated Half Crab, better known as… “The Requiem!” screams Comet, jumping out of his seat. “Citizen Manson is displaying his great submissions ability, sending a message to Max King as we count down to Genesis, and teaching Spike a lesson at the same time!” “I wouldn’t speak to soon if I was you, Lezaire won’t let Manson put this hold on for long.” As if on cue, Lezaire clumsily stumbles through the ropes, desperately trying to get into the ring and charge towards Manson to break the hold. Cross, reacting quickly, easily climbs through the ropes and sprints towards Lezaire, meeting him halfway across the ring with a- *THUD!* -as he connects with a clothesline! The fans cheer as Cross meets Ace with right hands as he whirls back to his feet, backing him towards the ropes as Spike desperately tries to hold on, clawing his fingers into the mat, but Manson easily drags him away from the ropes. Cross takes a few steps backward as he prepares to hit a crushing blow on Lezaire, who has only the ropes to help prop up his dazed self. But as Cross runs forward, Lezaire ducks his head, lifting the former Champion up and over the top rope- *WHAM!* -causing him to crash hard on the concrete floor! Almost instantaneously, as Harding gets in Spike’s face, asking him the question- *DING! DING! DING!* “RRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “He taps!” yells Comet, overjoyed. “Citizen Jenkins, his leg injured trying to hit the Tidal Wave, had to tap to Manson’s finishing maneuver, and now Lezaire faces two men on his lonesome! This is the happiest day of my life!” “What did I say about speaking to soon, huh Freak?” Comet wonders what Riley means by that as he turns back to the in-ring action, only to find Manson leap to his feet, enthused by the fans reaction, turning around to find his final opponent, but- *KICK! WHAM!* “STUN… ACE CRUSHER!” Riley yells as Manson hits the canvas, Lezaire taking him by the legs and flipping over into a bridged pin! ONE! TWO!! THHHHRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEE!!! *DING! DING! DING!* “Manson is now eliminated!” Riley happily reports, finally finding something to crow about. “And now it’s a one-on-one situation with David Cross and Ace Lezaire, and I think we know how that’ll end, just like Storm…” “Oh poppycock!” Comet retorts, “That was a three way match, and Ace only won because he exploited that fact, blindsiding Cross like the lying, cheating villain like he is! But now it’s one on one, and Cross is NOT happy!” Indeed, Cross is furious as he slides back into the ring, watching Manson roll out of the ring, heading up the ramp, and Lezaire jump up and down like an excited Rabbit who had just won the Rabbit lottery. Cross decides to play it smart, leaning forward- ”YYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” -and lifting Lezaire high into the air, Electric Chair style! “There’s only one way to go from here, and that’s down!” Comet happily cries, while Riley furiously shakes his head, pleading with Ace to counter… … Which he does in an instant, pushing himself off Cross shoulders and grabbing him around the waist with a victory roll! ONE! TWO!! THHHHHHRRRREEEEEEEEE- NO! Cross powers out, but only just! The Canadian twirls back to his feet, expecting to have the upper hand, but Cross is up and ready to meet him with a right hand! Dazed and confused, Lezaire is sent hurtling into the ropes, bouncing back off the strands, but only narrowly avoiding a Lariat from Cross! “See, he’s just too smart, too cunning for his opponents Comet, he knows exactly what they’re going to…” … but before Riley can finish that sentence, Lezaire bounces off the opposite ropes, as Cross smiles at him, causing the Canadian to gulp as- *BAM!* -he has his head taken clean off with a Yazuka kick! “LET’S GO CROSS! LET’S GO CROSS! LET’S GO CROSS!” “You know Bobbo; you should never speak too soon!” teases Comet, causing Riley to groan and his head hit the desk as Cross covers Lezaire for what has to be the victory! ONE! TWO!!! THHHHHHHRRRRRRRREEEEEEE… NOOOO! Lezaire rolls a shoulder off the mat, and he’s still in this match! Riley brings his head back up, saying “I never lost faith in the boy. Never.” Lezaire thanks his lucky stars as he climbs back onto two wobbly feet, but again, Cross meets him, kicking him square in the gut and doubling him over. The former footballer and USJL champion takes delight in shoving Lezaire into a standing Headsicssors, causing the fans to go wild once again! “Citizen Cross is going to hit the Black Mass!” cries Comet. “What better way to stamp his claim on the title than to defeat the champion just a few weeks before they’ll meet again at Genesis!” The crowd is buzzing as Cross brings Lezaire up onto his broad shoulders, leaving him there for all the fans too see… But Lezaire proves to be too slippery for Cross, and falls behind him, landing safely on his feet! As he does, Jet leaps onto the ring apron and into action, trying to get into the ring (or at least pretending to) while Jefferson Harding forces her back, getting into a war of words with the fiery maiden. ACE CAM! Unbeknownst to Harding and Cross, Spike reaches under the ropes and slides Lezaire his USJL title. The Canadian greedily clutches it in hands, giving a weak thumbs up and a wink to Steve’s camera, before… ACE CAM! …Cross turns back around, trying to locate his foe, but he’s a second too late as Lezaire lunges forward with the title in both hands- *BAM!* -hitting Cross with the gold right between the eyes, bringing the big man crashing down! The fans can’t believe what they’re seeing and appeal to Harding, but he can’t hear them, still arguing with Jet. Once she sees Cross staring up at the lights, she innocently drops back down to the floor, as she and Spike begin to walk up the ramp way, albeit with a slight limp. In the ring, Lezaire hooks Cross by the leg as both Jet and Spike lift their arms into the air, counting the pin along with the fans ONE! TWO!!! TTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!! *DING! DING! DING!* Hyper Music kicks up as the fans boo as loud as they can, but they can’t drown out Funyon who reports, “The winner of this match, the team of Ace Lezaire, Spike Jenkins and TOXXIC!” His announcement almost causes a riot as Lezaire rolls out of the ring, smiling gleefully as he hugs his title, escaping up the ramp way as Cross begins to come to, just beginning to realize what has happened. ”This is a travesty!” Comet yells. “The evil Canadian/Revolution Zero alliance wins this match, but only thanks to some underhanded tactics!” “Underhanded yet effective,” replies Riley, a smile from ear to ear. “Cross wants the USJL title, and Ace gave it to him… RIGHT IN THE FACE, REALLY HARD!” “Yes, we get it Robert…” Comet responds with a groan, looking on with a glum expression as he watches the victorious team head up the ramp way, and Cross left in the ring, pondering what might have been, and what the future holds, with Ace Lezaire square in his sights as the show Fades out…

As the match ends, we immediately cut backstage only to find the Suicide King for the second time this evening! He sits comfortably in the room provided for him, unusually away from a monitor considering the previous match. The Heartbreaker is instead apparently engrossed in conversation on his cell phone. "So you understand my situation then." - "Well, I thought if anyone could sympathize with the specifics of this particular matter, it would be you. I know you went through something very similar once." - "Yes, I am sorry about that. I never meant to fall out of touch. You know how it is though... there was that unpleasantness between us, and then I had to deal with the Commissionership and then the BOD. There was never enough time to mend fences. I apologize." - "It's ok. We both made mistakes. There was no way you could know I was right about him. But that's in the past, and this is now. I need to know if you might be willing to help me out with this particular issue now facing me." - "Don't worry about the specifics. I'll go over it all with you before the next show. Assuming of course that you could be here in person?" - "Excellent. It'll be... good... to see you again." - "I agree." - "Until then. It was good talking to you again, Chris. I'm sure we'll have to compare notes on schemes and such." - "Goodbye." Ka-click. And with that, the Suicide King hangs up and looks thoughtfully offscreen...

Masked Man and Maddix in the ring! But there's Scorpion! "Get over here!" *uppercut* "Get over here!" *uppercut* FINISH HIM ... ... ... "FRIENDSHIP!" *Scorpion juggles* Comet: "Well thank God for that."

"Unbelievable. That's just unFREAKINGbelievable." The camera quickly cuts to the Suicide King in his standard midmatch position, namely in front of a monitor backstage. The swelling of boos that accompany his visage seem to provide him a moment's pleasure, but it isn't enough to overcome his rising temper... "People around here seem to have forgotten what happens when they cross me. They seem to think they can go around willy-nilly, defying me without fear of consequence. Well, enough of that. Stevens will get what's coming to him at Genesis, but Jay Dawg? I'll come up with something special for him later." Muttering to himself the Suicide King wanders down the hallway. The camera follows him down until he stops in front of a locker room door with a very distinctive moniker. The Gambling Man quickly takes a moment to regain his composure (and smooth his hair) before getting down to the business at hand... Knock, knock. A female voice sounds out from the other side. "Who is it?" "It's King. I need a moment of Tom's time, Allison. Is he free?" The door opens, revealing the visage of Tom Flesher's companion/manager Allison Onita. She regards King with a wide smile and ushers him in. "For you Mr. Applewhite, of course. Mind you Tom wrestled earlier-" "Yes, an impressive affair as always." Allison continues, "-so he's just out of the shower. He hasn't had a chance to change into his suit yet, so sweatpants will have to do for this business meeting." King eyes Allison knowingly. "Well, I hope his post-match stretching left him sufficiently... focused to hear a proposition." From the other side of the room the unmistakable voice of the Superior One echoes out. "I'm always interested in what you have to say, King." Toweling his hair dry and stepping out into the main area, Tom smiles steps in to greet the Suicide King. Both men share a hearty handshake and a warm smile, making it quite clear that this may be the single most powerful Mutual Respect Society the SWF has ever known." "Tom." "Brian. What can I do for you this evening? And thank you for your kind words regarding my match. It wasn't my best work as that feathered fruitcake was almost entirely incapable of being carried to an acceptable wrestling match." King chuckles, "I sympathize of course, Tom. Rest assured that it was still quite... well, superior." "Of course. In any event please have a seat." Flesher shows the Suicide King over to a sumptuously appointed leather sofa. "Allison, be so kind as to get Mr. Applewhite a drink, would you?" "Vermouth martini, please, Allison." King settles in to his seat. "I am glad that you kept the sofa. I thought you would like it." Tom smiles. "Well, our previous business dealings have left me well-off financially and in matters of furniture as well. I take it that you are not here to discuss our previous dealings though, Brian?" The Suicide King grimaces, "No, though I am of course immensely satisfied with the results of our arrangement. No, I am here to ask for a favor." "A favor? That's not like you." "Yes, but things have progressed to a point to where I am slightly uncomfortable, mostly due to Stevens, Maddix and that incorrigible Zenon." Flesher breaks out laughing. "You make him sound like Dennis the Menace." "Well, that should just about illustrate the regard I hold our dear Commissioner in. It's too close to Genesis to perform any MAJOR alterations to this ridiculous match you may have heard about." "Ah yes... I had thought that might be why you were here. What were the specifics of it again?" "Well, it will apparently be that lump of flesh Stevens and his midcard militiaman Maddix versus myself and a "partner of my choosing. Now I know for a fact that I could take either of them to the proverbial cleaners, but as any student of tag matches knows you have to have a partner you can rely on. Somehow who thinks the way you do, someone who wrestles the way you do, and most importantly, someone who knows what it takes to win. And no one in the fed has the track record of success that you do, Tom." Flesher inclines his head at the compliment. "King, I can't tell you how much I would like to help you in this little matter of yours, but I am the current Cruiserweight Champion. I can't imagine Zenon letting me out of a title defense at Genesis." "You leave Zenon to me. He's already reached the limit of his authority. He chose to make this a power struggle of sorts, and now he's in my arena. He has made the match. He has to acquiesce to my choice of partner." King leans in. "Look, you've already handled Maddix more than once in the past. I know you can wrestler circles around Mark. You're the best active wrestler in the SWF. I need that level of insurance to finish what I have started with Stevens! I have been working on the destruction of his legacy since I first left the Carnival years ago! And now I am on the threshold of seeing that come to fruition, of embarrassing him on the grandest stage of them all! I can finally show everyone the "ultimate good guy" is a nobody! A slob! A schmuck! I-" Tom interjects, "Brian, calm down. Mad scientist does not become you." The Suicide King looks at Tom for a long moment, finally taking a deep breath. "You're right, of course. I'm sorry. But at least you can see how IMPORTANT this is to me, Tom." "Indeed I can. Well Brian, since you seem to be able to handle that little title defense issue, and since the thought of dissecting a 'legend' like Stevens is not without its appeal, I guess there is only one question to ask. What's in it for me?" King actually looks taken aback. "You mean, you wouldn't just do it out of the goodness of your heart?" Silence descends on the room... before being broken by raucous laughter, from both men. Tom wipes his eyes, still snickering. "Oh, you nearly had me for a second there, King." "Heh heh heh... yeah." The Gambling Man straightens his tie, smirking. "Anyway Tom, of course I have taken your needs into consideration. It occurs to me that you have already done everything there is to do in a wrestling league. You are without a doubt what I have heard some of our competition refer to as a 'first ballot Hall-of-Famer.'" You've held all the belts. You've beaten all the talent. You're the best, plain and simple." Tom gestures with his hand for King to go on as he is clearly enjoying this. "But you have not done two things. The first is beaten a former legend like Mark Stevens. Though he is doughy in exterior and iffy in interior, his name still carries weight. For now at least, until we take it away from him. Second and more importantly, Tom, is that you need to be looking to the future. It's time for you to consider a life outside of the ring, but still in the business. And I think that the Superior One just might be the superior replacement for a certain recalcitrant commissioner we both know and loathe." Tom looks truly interested for the first time in the entire conversation. "Brian, are you offering me-" King holds up a hand. "Whoah. I can't make anything definite UNTIL WE WIN THE MATCH AT GENESIS. But when we win, I will go to the board with reports of Zenon's shennanigans cast in a most unflattering light, and they will want to know what we should do. And again assuming that we win, I will answer that question with two little, but still very superior words." Tom grins widely, clearly relishing certain future prospects already. "Well King, I think it is safe to say that I would be proud to be your partner at Genesis then." The Suicide King stands, smiling broadly and reaching for Tom's hand. The two men share another very boisterous handshake as each man calculates a future that is positively glowing. "Tom, I can't tell you how much I am looking forward to this. I know we've been friends for a long time, but I have always wanted to wrestle with you as one of the few men in this league capable of matching my talents." "Switch all relevant pronouns there King, and you have my take on the subject. The Superior One and the Suicide King! That's got to be one for the record books. The two biggest heels the business has ever know, united, to face... well, a chump and a blowhard. Well, we can't have everything." King grins like a shark. "Sure we can. Now that you're on board Tom, and I have someone I know I can count on, I can start stacking the deck. Stevens and Z think they're the only ones who can make sudden irreversible proclamations about the match? Well, they're in for the surprise of their careers. For now though, you worry about Maddix (I'll need your video library on him by the way) and I will worry about Stevens." King stands to make his exit, as Tom sits there and mimes his disappointment. "No hints, Brian? I'm hurt." King walks over to the doorway. "Well, let's just say that this match is missing a few crucial elements. Perhaps... a BLAST from the past?" And once again smiling like an idiot, the King opens the door and exits out into the hallway. And as the camera fades we leave Tom Flesher, the Superior One, pondering the import of the Suicide King's words...

The Gund Arena is rocking as the theme music for SWF Lockdown plays over the PA system. The camera swings around, picking out a few fans for their second of fame, then settling on the SWF announcers, Cyclone Comet and Bobby Riley. Comet: Welcome back fans! This next match is a clash of two legends of the SWF ring with history going back to the old IGNJL and a little stable called FTW! Tonight, the we go Old School with a match between Jamie Drazon, formerly known as Jay Dawg, and the Heavy Hitter himself, "Grand Slam" Mark Stevens! Riley: Back in the day, these two guys were actually friends, but it didn't last long at all. I think we all remember who it was that tore the ligaments in Mark Stevens' left knee that have, in a roundabout way, put him in the unenviable position he is in tonight! The lights go out... Several seconds of hushed silence cause the crowd to become restless... They are clapping, talking, shouting, waving signs, waiting for whatever is about to happen... ::Crack!!!:: The crowd, simply put, explodes! The crack of a bat and the roar of the crowd announce "Grand Slam" Mark Stevens. It quickly fades into the opening bass of "Born Bad" by the Gone Jackals, his classic anthem. The SmarkTron lights up with baseball highlights mixed with big spots from Grand Slam's matches while flashing the words "Grand Slam", "Mark Stevens" and "The Heavy Hitter". The various multicolored lights flash in time with the rhythmic bass until the guitars crash and the lead singer cries out "Born Bad!", then the arena is flooded with bright white light! Red and white pyro explodes at the top of the entrance ramp! When the smoke clears and everyone can see again, "Grand Slam" Mark Stevens is standing underneath the SmarkTron! The crowd erupts in even more cheers for the Heavy Hitter! Funyon: Ladies and Gentlemen, this match is scheduled for ONE FALL! Introducing first, weighing in at an even three hundred pounds and hailing from Lincoln, Nebraska... he is the Heavy Hitter... "GRAND SLAM" MARK STEVENS!! As Funyon makes his announcement, the Heavy Hitter walks down the ramp slowly, savoring every moment of cheers and pointing at various fans, slapping hands and keeping them screaming! Tonight, as the camera zooms in, he is wearing a Cleveland Indians baseball cap! When the crowd sees this, they cheer even louder, nearly drowning out his music! His face though, tells the story of the past few weeks. While the swollen eye is nearly gone and the cut next to it mostly healed, there is a cut across the bridge of his nose that is still an angry red, and both eyes have a drak black smudge under them, telling of the beating from Toxxic on Storm. Grand Slam steps into the ring between the ropes and heads to a corner. He then climbs to the second turnbuckle, looks at the crowd, then pumps his right fist into the air several times, firing the crowd up even more and causing a flurry of flashbulbs to pop, illuminating the ring like a strobe-light!! Before dropping back to the mat, Grand Slam flings his cap out to the crowd, giving some lucky fan a unique souvenir from the SWF!!! Once the cap is sent out and the music dies, his face becomes deadly serious and he glares at the entrance ramp, waiting for one of the most hardcore men the SWF has ever produced to make his entrance. Riley: Grand Slam looks like he took a walk through Lyndale with hundred bills hanging out of his pockets! Comet: If Citizen Maddix had not been there to make the save, then it is quite likely that Citizen Stevens would not even be here tonight! Riley: And what a shame that would be... The arena dims down to solid darkness. After a few moments, allowing the hushes and the comments to pass... Marilyn Manson's "Dope Hat" hits the speakers to a loud ovation. Drazon walks through the curtains, observing the crowd briefly, scanning what he can for his presence. Funyon: And his opponent, hailing from Vancouver, British Columbia and weighing in at two hundred and forty three pounds... he is the SWF's Hardcore Maniac... JAMIE DRAZON! He finally walks down the isle and to the ring. He doesn't slap hands or talk to the crowd, he is focused on the ring and the man standing in that ring. The man he is to destroy tonight. Riley: Don't let the crowd's cheering fool you. Jaime Drazon is one of the meanest, nastiest, and scariest men in the business today! And there is no love lost between these two men at all. Comet: Indeed little buddy, Citizen Drazon has been walking the line between good and evil for a long while now and I think tonight, against his old foe, will push him back to the dark side! Riley: Comet, you are truly a piece of work, you know that? Little buddy... Why I oughta... In the ring, Grand Slam has handed his jacket off to a ringside tech and is stretching his neck and arms, trying to get ready for the trial ahead. His arms and back are bruised in many places, showing the pain he has had to deal with since being forced out of retirement. For his part, JD doesn't slow down as he rolls into the ring and stand up. He walks directly over to Funyon and gestures for the mic before the sequined ring announcer can even think about getting out of the ring. After grabbing the mic and shooing Funyon out of the ring, JD starts to pace around the ring looking extremely agitated and ticked off. Grand Slam stands in the center of the ring, turning slowly trying to keep JD in view. Riley: What is going on? Drazon isn't exactly a talker... Finally, as the crowd's anticipation builds to a fever pitch, Drazon raises the mic to his lips and begins to speak. JD: It's no secret that you and I have never, ever seen eye-to-eye Mark. We've known each other for four years, and I think the only thing we ever agreed on is that we both like our beer cold. So I heard about you coming back and I went to Z and I asked for this match, and I asked for it here, tonight, at the Gund Arena, in Cleveland, Ohio! The cheap pop explodes and dies quickly, as the audience is very interested in what Mr. Drazon has to say. JD: Do you want to know why tonight? Why here? Shouldn't be too hard... back in the day, this was the IGNJL's home base. We wrestled here once a week at least. You and me Mark, you and me tore this mother down back in the day! Another appreciative cheer rips through the arena. In the ring, Grand Slam looks confused as JD continues to pace the ring, still agitated... JD: So I saw this arena on the schedule and I thought to myself, "Damn. Wouldn't that be the kicker! You and me, one more time in the Gund!" The crowd cheers agin, thinking this is the end of JD's speech. He suprises them however... JD: But I've been watching. I've seen what been happening to you. I saw what that little punk Toxxic did to you last week. Now we both know that you and me ain't friends. But I will tell you this... I'm not very fond of the Suicide King either, and I think what he's been putting you through is a crock! Riley: I've got to think that wasn't a good idea with the kind of mood King has to be in tonight... The crowd stands and cheers. Grand Slam looks around, wondering where this is going. JD continues to pace... JD: I wanted to wrestle "Grand Slam" Mark Stevens, the Heavy Hitter, the former World Champion, the Hall-of-Famer... Comet: Uh-Oh... Drazon might have just crossed the line. Now Grand Slam reacts, hearing an echo of the things Toxxic said to him last week. He steps forward, pointing his finger at JD. Jamie stops pacing and looks the Heavy Hitter in the eye... JD: Hold on now old man, hold on. I never said you weren't that guy anymore. Hell, as far as I am concerned, you're the same as you ever were. But I want to take you on when you are 100%, not beat up like you are now. You've been put through the ringer, and I don't want anybody saying that I beat you because you beat up or because somebody softened you up for me... when I make you tap or pin you for the three, I don't want there to be any excuses. You understand? Grand Slam has a tiny half smile as he nods. JD: So I have a proposal for you, just a thought I had... why don't me and you tell King exactly what we think of his and his crap? We'll roll out of this ring, head up that ramp, grab our gear and have a beer? The crowd doesn't know what to think. On one hand they want to see the match, but on the other they are impressed by JD's words. Either way, they are waiting to hear what Grand Slam is going to say. Mark motions for the mic, JD hands it over and leans into the corner. GSMS: JD, I heard everything you said. And I've thought about it. And if you think I'm just going to walk out of this match and this arena, then I have only two words for you... The crowd holds it's breath, not knowing what to expect... GSMS: You're buying. Grand Slam extends his hand to JD as he tosses the mic to Funyon. JD steps forward, saying something meant only for Stevens, and takes the handshake. The crowd lets out a huge cheer for them! The two men then step through the ropes and head up the ramp as the referee administers the ten count... Riley: What the hell is this? Comet: This is two proud men refusing to be pawns in King's game! Riley: Oh come on Comet! These people paid good money for a wrestling show! A wrestling show, not a debate show. This is ridiculous! In the ring, the befuddled referee reaches ten and turns to Funyon and the timekeeper... **Ding ding ding** Funyon: The referee has ruled this match a double countout! The crowd, realizing there will be no match, quiets their cheers a little. FADE

“We’re back on Lockdown,” says Cyclone Comet, “and coming up next, ladies and gentlemen, we have a special attraction cruiserweight match, as the Cruiserweight Champion, Tom Flesher, will face Birdman in a non-title match!” “Tom requested this tune-up match to prove a point,” adds Bobby Riley. “He wants to show Ryan Dustin some of what he intends to do to him at Genesis, and in the process, prove that Dustin’s two wins over Birdman really weren’t all that impressive after all!” “Ryan Dustin is, of course, the Number One contender to the Cruiserweight Championship,” continues Comet. “He earned that honorific by defeating Birdman, one of the hottest young cruiserweight superstars in the SWF today, in a match to determine the Number One contender, and then proved that he is, in fact, the Real Deal by defeating Birdman again in a rematch! He’s presently on a collision course to challenge the dominant champion at G5!” With that, Funyon’s familiar voice booms over the house microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he says, “the following contest is a non-title match, scheduled for one fall!” N.E.R.D.’s “Lapdance” brings the Cleveland faithful out of their seats. The lights in the Gund dim as a single spotlight centers itself at the head of the ramp, providing a place for Ryan Dustin to step into! The Real Deal is dressed in his “civvies” as he assumes his trademark pose underneath the spotlight before making his way down the ramp. “Please welcome the special guest commentator for this match,” says Funyon, “the Number One Contender to the Cruiserweight Championship, the ‘Real Deal,’ Ryan Dustin!” Dustin shakes hands with the fans surrounding the barricade as he makes his way around the ringside area before reaching the announce table, where Comet warmly offers Ryan the seat beside him. The lights in the arena come back on as Dustin dons his headphones and takes a seat besides Comet. “Welcome, Citizen Dustin,” says Comet. “It’s a pleasure to have you here!” “Why thank you,” replies Dustin. “It’s really a pleasure to be here!” “Hey Ryan,” quips Riley, “fell off the wagon lately?” “Enough out of you,” barks Comet. “I apologize for my broadcast colleague, Ryan; he is subject to speaking without thinking!” Ryan dismisses the matter out of hand. “It was a fair question, Comet; I was dangerously close to a downward spiral, and if I hadn’t gotten myself back on track by winning that Number One Contender’s match against Birdman, there’s no telling how far I’d have sunk by now!” “Well, how wonderful for you to have something to give you confidence besides that ol’ liquid courage,” Riley says patronizingly. “But, as Tom Flesher is about to prove to you here in just a few minutes, you’re putting your hope in false idols, so to speak, if you’re using victories over Birdman as a positive!” “I wouldn’t take Birdman lightly,” counters Dustin, as his music finally fades out. “That guy’s tough; if Flesher doesn’t come out here intent on bringing his best stuff, Birdman is going to run him out of the building!” BOOM! With that, an explosion of blue smoke and pyro lights up the arena, heralding the arrival of the Cruiserweight Champion! As Led Zeppelin’s “Kashmir” blares through the stadium, Tom Flesher walks through the velvet curtain clad in his usual blue warm-up suit. Allison Onita, wearing a black leather skirt and a short black leather jacket covering what would otherwise be revealed by a sleeveless black mesh blouse, follows behind him with the SWF Cruiserweight Title belt wrapped around her waist. The fans boo loudly as Flesher and Onita make their way to the ring, but Flesher ignores them as usual. On the other side of the ring, Riley pops to his feet and begins to applaud the arrival of the “Superior One,” as Flesher climbs the stairs and holds the ropes for Allison Onita, then enters. He sets himself in the center of the ring as the music fades, and looks at the announcer with a smirk. Funyon breathes a loud and exaggerated sigh before beginning to read the prepared statement on the index card handed to him. “Introducing first,” he says, “is a man who, quite clearly, needs no introduction! He is the preeminent mat wrestler in the SWF today, yesterday, and tomorrow! He rules the squared circle with an iron fist, and he rules the bedroom with an appendage of equal resiliency! And he has decided to grace those of you here in the Gund Arena for the sole purpose of showing Ryan Dustin why sometimes, one should be careful what one wishes for! Currently weighing in at two hundred thirty-one and one quarter pounds, due to this match not being for the Cruiserweight Title, from Buffalo, New York, he is the reigning SWF World Cruiserweight Champion, the ‘Superior One,’ TOOOOOOOOM FLESHER!” Flesher gives the fans a royal wave as Allison cheers behind him, only to be met by a less-than-warm reception: FLESHER SUCKS! FLESHER SUCKS! FLESHER SUCKS! FLESHER SUCKS! “Hey,” growls Riley. “Show some respect for the Cruiserweight Champion! You people are lucky that Tom even decided to grace you with his presence!” Flesher has Allison to remove the Cruiserweight Title from her waist and hand it to him, as he proceeds to walk towards the edge of the ring facing the announce table, and dangle it over the top rope while looking directly at Dustin as if to say, “Want some? Come get some!” “Oh please,” groans Comet. “That guy is so full of himself, it defies belief! He thinks that he’s Zeus’s gift to the world of wrestling!” Riley rolls his eyes as if Comet were stating what should be blatantly obvious. “That’s because he IS, Comet! Geez, you’d think that you haven’t seen him wrestle for the last three years or something!” “There’s no question that Flesher is at the head of the class when it comes to mat wrestling,” agrees Dustin, “but he should worry about being too comfortable, if you know what I mean.” “Not exactly,” admits Comet. “But I’d love to hear your explanation.” LEEEET’S GET RETARDED… IN HEEEEEEEEERE! Before Dustin can begin his explanation, the Black Eyed Peas’ “Let’s Get Retarded” begins to blast through the speakers. Suddenly, Birdman bursts from behind the curtain onto the stage in a crimson blur, for he is covered from head to toe in a sharp red, to resemble a cardinal, the state bird of Ohio. “His opponent,” shouts Funyon, “from parts unknown, weighing two hundred nineteen pounds, the BIIIIIRDMAAAAAN!” Birdy dances down towards the ring, slapping hands with the fans at ringside as he descends the ramp. “They love the Birdman here in Cleveland,” shouts Comet, as Birdman leaps onto the ring apron and rushes towards a neutral corner, leaping onto the top turnbuckle as he begins to interact with the fans. “Anyway,” says Dustin, “as I was starting to say earlier, Tom Flesher is in danger of becoming complacent; I mean, he’s been the Heavyweight Champion on more than one occasion, and to someone like him, he might see the Cruiserweight Championship as a ‘lesser’ title. Not only that, but he’s been able to dominate the Cruiserweight division so thoroughly to this point, that he could let his guard down, especially against someone as seemingly harmless as Birdman, and if he lets his guard down against me at Genesis, I think that I have a very good chance of walking out as the new Cruiserweight Champion!” “Would you elaborate on your comment about Birdman being unassuming,” asks Comet as Birdy’s music fades out. “All I mean by that is that, given his colorful costume, and the happy-go-lucky way he comes down to the ring, a lot of people make the mistake of taking him lightly. But, I’m telling you from experience, that he’s as tough as they come! I think that he’s proven to everybody that he can take pretty much anybody to the limit, and with his speed and his eclectic offensive style, he’s so hard to get a read on, that if you can’t get him down quickly and keep him down, it’s virtually impossible to beat him!” Birdman removes his cloth “wings” and hands them over the top rope to the ringside attendant, as referee Ronald “Red” Herrington motions to the timekeeper to ring the bell, signifying the start of the match. DING! DING! DING! Birdman and Flesher circle each other in the ring but, before they can lock up, Flesher makes a show of pantomiming wiping the sweat off his brow and flicking it towards Birdman. This, not surprisingly, angers Birdy to the point of charging towards the Superior One, which is precisely what Flesher wants, as he stuns his impetuous opponent with a sudden shotei to the chest! Birdman staggers backwards a couple of steps, which is all the opening that Tom need to shoot the double-leg, lifting Birdy up off the mat and slamming him onto his face with a textbook double-leg takedown, driving all the air out of Birdman’s lungs! Flesher quickly moves upwards along Birdman’s body, without completely releasing his grip, and assuming a top referee’s position. “Pay attention, Dustin,” says Bobby reverently. “You’re about to get yourself a free wrestling lesson!” Birdman tries to sit out, but Flesher deftly underhooks Birdman’s arms and snatches him backwards, rolling him onto his shoulders in what appears to be a pinning predicament, but before referee Herrington can make a count, Tom rolls to his side, lifting his opponent off of the mat and back into a sitting position, only to roll him back onto his shoulders. Flesher repeats this process several times before finally allowing Birdman to return to his feet, releasing him to the neutral position. Birdy quickly darts away from Flesher and turns back to face his opponent, who simply looks back with a smug grin on his face as Allison squeals with delight from outside the ring. “A quick technical exhibition by the Superior One,” says Comet, as Flesher turns his attention away from Birdman to taunt Dustin once more. “He got Birdman on the mat with a textbook takedown, and then got in some riding time; had this been an amateur wrestling match, he probably would have earned about ten back points on that single sequence!” Riley, who had gotten a dreamy look in his eyes when Comet said “riding time,” shakes himself out of his trance to provide banter. “Now you tell me, Dustin: does that look like the work of a man who’s complacent?” “He’d best stop worrying about me, and focus on his opponent,” warns Dustin. Flesher and Birdman meet in the center of the ring once more, and Tom takes advantage once again with a knee to the midsection. With Birdman doubled over, Flesher traps him in a side headlock and then quickly takes him back down to the mat with an amateur-style hiptoss! Maintaining control of the headlock, Flesher tries to force Birdman’s shoulders to the mat, but the high-flyer swings his legs upwards, catching the Superior One by surprise by trapping him in a headscissors and forcing him backwards to the mat! Birdy tries to hold Flesher down in the headscissors, but the mat veteran rolls onto his stomach, shifting his weight onto his well-trained neck before flipping forward, holding Birdman down with a modified jackknife pin: ONE! TWO! But Birdman surprises Flesher yet again, grabbing the Superior One by the waist as he bridges out of the pin attempt with alarming quickness! Birdy gets back his feet and twists towards Flesher in an attempt to re-assert control, and then takes another half-twist, positioning himself back-to-back with Tom with their arms locked up! “Uh oh,” warns Riley. “It looks like we’ve got a test of strength here!” Tom is able to use his size and power to force Birdman backwards, but just as he begins to drop to his knees to apply a backslide, the high-flier rolls backwards off of Tom’s shoulders to land on his feet in front of him, and before the Superior One can get off his knees to react… CRACK! … Birdman hops into the air, driving both feet into Tom’s grill with a front dropkick! Birdman pushes Flesher against the ropes as he staggers to his feet and grabs him by the wrist, whipping him across the ring, but the Superior One reverses, sending the Bird rocketing into the ropes… BLAM! … Only for the high-flier to explode towards Flesher’s head with the force of a cruise missile as he bounces off the ropes, blasting the Cruiserweight Champion with a flying forearm! Tom quickly bails out of the ring before Birdman can build up any further momentum, and walks briskly up the ramp, stopping at a distance that he hopes is outside of Birdman’s effective range as he catches his breath. Red Herrington begins his twenty-count and Birdman leaps onto the middle rope, staring out at Flesher’s retreating form before rallying the Gund behind him with his trademark birdcall: Birdman: CAW-CAW! Crowd: CAW-CAW! “There’s a perfect example of Flesher being complacent, Bobby,” says Dustin. “The Tom Flesher of old wouldn’t have been in that position; heck, the old Flesher would never have even allowed Birdman up after that ride to give him the chance to do any of that in the first place!” EIGHT! NINE! TEN! “Oh, come on,” dismisses Riley. “He’s just trying to give the people a show, that’s all. He wants them to believe that Birdman has a chance; gotta make it look sporting, after all!” FIFTEEN! SIXTEEN! SEVENTEEN! Experienced mat veteran that he is, Flesher uses all nineteen of his legally allotted seconds before returning to the ring. Upon squaring off with Birdman again… THWACK! … The Superior One stuns his younger opponent by thumbing him in the eye! “What a brilliant technical maneuver by Tom Flesher to regain control of this match,” gushes Riley. “Are you serious,” barks Comet. “How can you call that a technical maneuver?” “You really should research the sport a little more, Comet,” replies Bobby nonchalantly. “That was a traditional Greco-Roman thumb to the eyes!” Flesher steps behind Birdman and locks both of his hands around Birdy’s midsection, lifting him off the mat and slamming him back down with a waistlock takeover. “You know,” says Dustin, “for someone who is supposed to be a great as Tom Flesher claims to be, he sure did take a long enough time trying to recover from Birdman’s offense!” “That’s called smarts, Dustin,” replies Bobby. “Obviously something that you’re not acquainted with; under cruiserweight rules, Flesher has nineteen seconds to return to the ring before being counted out, and while those nineteen seconds do, in fact, give Flesher time to recover, you have to see the big picture!” “Which is,” asks Ryan. “That Birdman is the kind of wrestler that depends on momentum, and an extended break is just the thing that Flesher needs to dissipate that momentum, and retake the advantage!” Tom shifts forward from his waistlock and floats seamlessly into a front facelock, sprawling backwards as he does so to spread out his body weight and make it harder for Birdman to counter the hold. “Look at that sprawl on the facelock to keep Birdman from just trying to stand up,” Bobby says reverently. “Those are the kind of little things that separate the greatness of Flesher from common wrestlers such as yourself!” “Look,” says Dustin, as Flesher shifts onto his knees in an effort to apply more weight directly to the back of Birdman’s neck, “I never doubted Flesher’s technical acumen. I do, however, doubt his commitment to the Cruiserweight Title.” Riley begins to stand up in outrage, but Comet grabs him firmly by the shoulder, forcing him back down into his chair. “You blasphemous heathen! How DARE you doubt the commitment to winning of a future Hall-of-Famer like Tom Flesher!” “How can you not see it,” replies Dustin, as Birdman pulls his knees close to his chest and attempts to stand up. “Flesher has said himself how the only belt that really matters to him is the Heavyweight Title; he’s clearly not as committed to defending the Cruiserweight Championship as others are to taking it from him! And his lack of focus is a weakness… one that I intend to exploit at Genesis!” Birdman manages to return to a standing position, albeit bent over, and twists towards Flesher’s body, shifting from the front facelock into a side headlock. From this position, he leads Tom back to the edge of the ring and uses the ropes to help him propel the Superior One across the ring, thereby freeing himself from the headlock. He steps towards the center of the ring as Flesher shoots back off the ropes… WHACK! … And the Superior One knocks him down to the mat with a stiff running shoulderblock! Birdman rolls onto his stomach and remains flat on the mat as Tom runs back to the ropes and over the top of his opponent as he rebounds, but as he bounces off the ropes a second time… WHAM! … Birdman springs quickly to his feet and immediately leaps high into the air, locking his legs behind Flesher’s head and arching backwards as he snatches the Superior One off the mat and onto his back with a lightning-fast hurricanrana! Tom quickly scrambles to his feet, but Birdman is even quicker, and he leaps back into the air… WHAM! … Nailing the Superior One with a running dropkick that sends him staggering backwards into the ropes! Tom barely avoids falling out of the ring, grabbing onto the top rope and pulling himself to his feet, when Birdy suddenly charges across the ring, rocketing through the air with the speed of a falcon… CRASH! … And slamming into Flesher with a flying body press that knocks them both over the top rope! Birdman lands on the apron and rolls underneath the bottom rope back into the ring as the Superior One crashes to the floor! “Disqualify him,” shrieks an enraged Riley. “Birdman knocked Flesher over the top rope! He should be disqualified, fined and suspended!” Birdman pulls himself to his feet as Allison rushes around the ring to tend to her man. “Oh please,” scoffs Comet. “Tom Flesher was sent over the top rope due to his momentum.” “Yeah right,” counters Bobby. “You mean his momentum as set in motion by Birdman!” Birdman: CAW-CAW! Crowd: CAW-CAW! With his trademark war cry, Birdman rushes to the corner as Allison is helping Tom to his feet and leaps onto the middle turnbuckle… SPLASH! … Flipping backwards and OVER the top rope as he sails down to the arena floor and knocking both Tom and Allison back down with a springboard moonsault! “Tremendous maneuver by Birdman,” exclaims Comet. Birdman pulls himself back to his feet and drags the Superior One to the barricade, lifting him up and draping him chest-first across the barricade. “What do you suppose he’s up to now,” ponders Comet. “If I know Birdman,” replies Ryan, “it’s nothing that Bobby’s gonna like!” Birdy slides into the ring and immediately scrambles to his feet, dashing across the ring and streaking back towards Flesher as he bounces off the ropes, leaping over the top rope as he approaches the edge of the ring and flipping forward… SPLASH! … Crushing Flesher’s chest against the barricade with a death-defying tope con hilo! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! “By Zeus,” screams Comet. “Birdman dove over the top rope like a swan and crashed into Tom Flesher on the outside!” Birdy is slow to get up, having over-rotated and collided hard with the concrete floor as he landed, but the Superior One remains leaning against the barricade, spitting up blood as Allison tends to him. “Moves like that can end a promising young career prematurely,” moans Riley. “I agree,” says Dustin. “I really hope that Birdman stops doing stuff like that before he gets seriously injured!” “To hell with Birdman,” snaps Bobby. “I’m talking about Flesher! Look at poor Tom suffering over there! Do you realize how many hearts were broken when they saw him spitting up blood? To think, that he won’t be blessing anyone with those dreamy kisses tonight!” Ryan and Comet both turn to look at Bobby skeptically, but decline to comment as they notice Birdman pulling himself over the barricade. He measures Tom up for a running elbow, and begins to take off towards him when he suddenly notices that one of his legs has been trapped. Looking down, he sees Allison clinging onto his ankle for dear life! Birdy reaches down and pulls his foot away from Onita, and then turns his attention back towards Flesher… CRACK! … But not soon enough to avoid a size 13 Doc Marten boot, as the Superior One sends Birdman flipping through the air and down to the floor with a desperation Yakuza Kick! Flesher collapses to his knees trying to catch his breath, as Birdman remains face down on the arena floor, motionless. “My goodness,” shouts Comet. “That Yakuza kick came out of NOWHERE!” “What a commendable action by Allison,” says Bobby. “Putting herself on the line to buy her man some time! I tell you, that Onita is a credit to her gender, nothing like that troublemaking sister of hers!” Tom slowly but surely stands up and pulls Birdman to his feet as well, grabbing him by the back of the head and leading him over towards the far corner… BANG! … Before slamming his head into the solid steel steps! “There you go, Champ,” cheers Bobby. “Scramble those brains! Show that bird-brain the penalty for taking stupid risks!” Suddenly becoming cognizant of Herrington’s count, Tom rolls back into the ring and gets to his feet, distracting Red long enough to stop his count, while Allison sneaks up out of the referee’s view and begins strangling Birdman! The Gund crowd begins to shout in unison, imploring Herrington to turn around, but the wily Flesher continues to keep the junior referee preoccupied whilst his woman constricts the Bird’s breathing! At the announcer’s table, Dustin begins to stand up. “So this is how the great Tom Flesher has to win these days? Resorting to a woman to do his dirty work? And you say that he hasn’t grown soft?” “Not now,” warns Comet, trying to coax Dustin back into his seat. “You don’t want to do anything to jeopardize your title shot, Citizen Dustin!” Flesher, who noticed Ryan about to stand up, walks over to the edge of the ring closest to the announcer’s table and hops back out of the ring, sneering at Dustin as if to say, “Yeah, that’s right. What are you gonna do about it?” And then, before Ryan even has time to react… PTUI! … The Superior One spits a big loogie right into the face of the Real Deal! Ryan bursts out of the chair, but Comet grabs him with both hands and prevents him from leaving the table. “Pick your battles, youngster,” advises the masked hero. “Get Flesher when it will hurt; not like this!” “When it hurts,” Dustin mumbles absentmindedly. “Don’t worry, Comet. I’ll get his attention when it matters.” Allison rolls Birdman back into the ring out of the referee’s view, and Tom slides back into the ring, crawling over towards Birdy and making a half-hearted cover: ONE! TWO! THREE! NO! BIRDMAN GETS THE SHOULDER UP! “More overconfidence by a once proud champion,” spits Ryan. “There was a time when Flesher would hook the leg every time.” “You talk real big for someone who just got punked by that very same man,” mocks Riley, to which Dustin responds by shoving him forcefully out of his seat, to the delight of the fans seated behind the announce table. Back in the ring, Flesher is standing over Birdman, slapping him playfully on the head as he tries to get to his feet, and cinches Birdy’s head in a vice-like chinlock with his right arm before suddenly shooting his left arm in underneath his opponent’s arm, and lifting him off-balance before slamming him back down to the mat! The Superior One maintains control of the chinlock and corkscrews his body ever so slightly as he attempts to put the match away: ONE! TWO! THREE— NO! “My goodness, was that close,” sighs Comet. “Tom Flesher had Birdman dead-to-rights with that Cement Job, but somehow Birdman managed to kickout!” Flesher pulls Birdman to his feet and grabs him by the wrist, whipping him into the corner! The Superior One rushes into the corner to inflict further damage… CRASH! … But the high-flier dives out of the corner, causing Tom to crash chest-first into the turnbuckle! Flesher staggers out of the corner, clutching his chest as he spits up blood, and Birdman runs to the edge of the ring, charging towards Flesher as he bounces off the ropes… WHAM! … But the Superior One suddenly spins around and blasts Birdman in the face with a brutal shotei that knocks him down to the mat! “Shotei,” exclaims Comet. “Birdman went for the bulldog, but Flesher saw it coming!” “He had that move well scouted,” agrees Riley. “He knows that Birdman loves to use that bulldog out of the corner as a setup for the Bird Dropping, and was waiting for him!” “Flesher better make the most of this opportunity and put Birdman away,” warns Dustin, as Tom leans out of the ring, allowing Allison to use a towel to wipe the blood from his mouth. “If Birdman can muster up a second wind, there’s no telling what could happen!” Flesher walks back over to Birdman and grabs him by the back of the mask, pulling him to his feet. He forces him back into the corner and lifts him onto the top turnbuckle before stepping back and running towards the corner, leaping into the air to stun Birdy with a leaping palm strike! “Venus,” shouts Riley. “Tom just struck Birdman with the Venus palm strike! Could we be looking at the Boilermaker?” Flesher climbs up to the middle turnbuckle but instead of putting Birdman in position for the Boilermaker proceeds to the top turnbuckle, pulling Birdy up along with him. “It doesn’t look like he’s going for the Boilermaker,” says Comet, as Tom bends Birdman over and applies a waistlock. “Although I’m not sure what he’s… WAITAMINUTE! I think he may be going for the Ego Buster from up there!” “An Ego Buster from the top rope,” asks Riley incredulously. “If he hits that, somebody’s going to have to unmask Birdman, so we can identify the body!” “You know what, Comet,” asks Ryan. “You’re right; you have to pick your battles.” With that, the Real Deal stands up and removes his headphones, walking around the announce table and climbing onto the ring apron! “Be careful, kid,” warns Comet. “You don’t want to jeopardize your title shot!” Herrington runs over towards Ryan, ordering him to get off the apron as Tom, momentarily distracted, begins to shout at Dustin to get off the apron as well. “Damn that Dustin,” growls Riley. “He’s completely disrupted this match!” Flesher continues to bark at Dustin, going so far as to release his grip on Birdman and point at the Real Deal. “Flesher might want to pay a little less attention to Citizen Dustin and remember exactly where he is,” warns Comet. Tom begins to turn his attention away from Dustin… WHAM! … But Ryan’s distraction gave Birdman enough time to recover, and he delivers a hard shot to Tom’s ribs! And another! And another! “It’s Birdman,” shrieks Comet. “He’s fighting back!” Birdy lifts his hands to Tom’s face and grabs onto his head on both sides before proceeding to headbutt him with the ferocity of a woodpecker! WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! Eventually, Birdman relents, and Flesher falls backwards into the ring, crashing back-first on the canvas. “Uh-oh,” warns Comet. “Birdman’s in perfect position to hit that Bird Dropping!” As if reading the masked commentator’s mind, Birdy leaps off of the turnbuckles, diving into the ring posterior-first… WHAM! … And crashing into Flesher’s chest with his patented flying sit-down splash! “Bird Dropping,” shrieks Comet, as Birdy reaches back to hook the leg. “He’s not going to get up from that!” Herrington drops down to the canvas to count the pinfall… ONE! TWO! THREE! DING! DING! DING! … And orders the timekeeper to ring the bell as he declares the match decided! Twenty-one thousand Cleveland fans erupt out of their seats as “Let’s Get Retarded” begins to play once again! Birdman scoots out of the ring immediately as Funyon rises from his ringside seat. “Here is your winner,” he says, “the BIIIIIRDMAAAAAN!” Herrington raises Birdman’s hand in victory, and Birdy begins to retreat up the ramp as Flesher comes to inside the ring. “What a tremendous upset,” shouts Comet. “Birdman pulling out the most improbable of victories here tonight, defeating Tom Flesher!” “No thanks to Ryan Dustin,” spits Riley, as Dustin slides into the ring to taunt Flesher. “If it weren’t for his distraction, Tom would have won going away!” “Nonetheless,” says Comet, as Flesher gets to his feet, ready to come to blows with Dustin, only being held back by Herrington, “the fact remains that this loss is a major setback for Tom Flesher going into a big title defense at Genesis! Tom Flesher has just lost to a man whom Ryan Dustin has beaten twice, and now you have to consider Dustin a threat the Cruiserweight Title! You also have to wonder if Flesher really HAS lost a step? And, if he has, is it enough for Ryan Dustin to take advantage of? Can Dustin unseat the old lion and become the next Cruiserweight Champion?” A cadre of referees struggling to keep Flesher and Dustin separate joins Herrington, and the two men continue to glare at each other furiously as Lockdown goes to commercial…

"Bitch" is playing throughout the arena as we come back from commercial, the crowd booing really loudly (despite some wolf-whistles as a comment to how gorgeous some people think she is) as the voluptuous redhead makes her way to the ring. Funyon: The following contest is a special attraction submission match, scheduled for one fall. Making her way to the ring the manager, and self proclaimed future owner of SWF...KELLY...CONNELLY! "And this can only mean good things coming up soon, Comet!" Riley is quick to note. "With the entrance of this woman, the hot stud she manages is going to be out VERY soon!" "Words of wisdom from my partner..." Comet begins dryly. "But some of it is true, as we're about ready for a submission match requested by Max King...or was it Kelly that put the idea in King's head?" "Does it really matter? The fact is that Max King is going to make an example of Todd Cortez tonight, as he shows him just exactly what he has planned for Manson at Genesis!" Kelly slips through the ropes into the ring, passing by Funyon and grabbing the stick from him as she does, ready to do her favorite part of the job of being a manager. "Cleveland, Ohio...you know that I'm the best thing that's come to this arena thus far!" Kelly begins, drawing out the negative reaction of the fans rather quickly. "And since I am the best, it's only natural that I bring out someone equally as good as I am in the looks department. So everyone give it up for the man that will show the world exactly what submissions are all about...a god among mortals...everyone give it up for my man, "THE ICON"...MAX...KING!" BOOOOOM! "Superstar" cues up over the speaker systems after the pyro goes off, and the crowd gives Max King the reaction that they think he deserves as he makes his way to the ring: a highly negative one. King walks to the ring with his head held up high, ignoring the reaction of the people to him. "See, this is one of the many reasons that Max King is one of the greatest this company has to offer, Comet! The crowd is treating him with utter disrespect, and yet he just holds his head up high and proud!" Riley states. "I am loving what this guy can do in the ring!" "Max King has done nothing really to warrant a positive reaction for himself, and you can bet he's going to get much of the same at Genesis when he goes up against Manson in that Submission Cage Match..." With Kelly holding the ring ropes for him, King enters the ring with a smile on his face and walks to the center of the ring, holding his hands out to his side as Kelly rubs his sides a bit. "...I am so envious of Kelly. She is lucky to have King's love..." Riley states. Comet sighs. "No one wants to hear about your personal life, Riley...we have a match that we have to get to." Almost immediately after Comet makes this comment, "Tres Delinquentes" cues up over the speakers, replacing the boos from the crowd with cheers by default as the Urban Legend makes his way out, standing on the stage with his arms crossed over his chest in an X position, before pounding his chest and making his walk down the ramp. Funyon: And his opponent, from The Streets, weighing in at 226 pounds..."The Urban Legend"...TODD...CORTEZ! "Todd Cortez has had to live a tough life, and that has brought him to this match today, one that could possibly be in his favor, as he has had to fight a lot of times in the streets." Comet notes. "Ah, street fighting can't out last pure perfect wrestling like King has. Cortez doesn't know what exactly he's going to get himself into in this match." Riley comments proudly. Todd Cortez climbs up onto the ring apron now, looking to the crowd before going to enter the ring, and as soon as he steps through the ropes, King is right there to nail him in the back of the head with a hard elbow strike, causing the referee to ring the bell and start the match prematurely! "What a poor sport King is!" Comet notes, slight anger in his voice. "He doesn't even let Cortez get into the ring, attacking him before the bell rings!" "Hey, Cortez IS a veteran of street fighting, he should be used to people jumping him without any warning like this!" King grabs Cortez by his temples, pulling him in roughly and making sure that Cortez hits the mat face first, before diving in for a side headlock on the mat to wrench away at the neck of Cortez. Cortez manages to squirm a bit though, using his smaller body mass to move out of the hold and get back up onto his feet...kicking him right into the ribs to keep him down. Cortez goes to grab the arm of King to try and work on it, but King uses his free arm to nail Cortez in the gut, going to try to follow it up with a clothesline, but Cortez grabs the arm before it can hit him and wrings the arm down to the mat, pulling it back with a ground arm-bar...but King is too close to the ring ropes. King reaches with his free arm and grabs the ropes, pulling himself out of the ring and freeing himself of the hold, shaking out his arm to get the minor pain he's feeling with a surprised look on his face. "Don’t let this get you down, King!" Riley calls out from the booth. "He just got lucky thus far!" "You're not King's manager, Riley!" Comet comments. "Stop trying to act like it!" Kelly goes over to King, talking to him outside of the ring for a bit, apparently the two of them talking strategy with each other. Cortez doesn't seem to like this though, as he slides out of the ring, running in between King and Kelly, and nailing King right in the jaw with a hard palm strike! King takes a few steps back, rubbing his jaw as he does, and starts to get clubbed between the shoulders by forearm shots by Cortez, the Urban Legend going back to some of his street-fighting roots in this match early on. Cortez turns King around, ducking down to sweep King of his feet with a nicely placed kick to the back of the legs. Cortez doesn't let up, going for a camel clutch on the outside of the ring now, but King gets to his knees before the move can be completely put in, pushing his body up to flip Cortez back onto the arena floor. King quickly pushes himself up to his feet, and scrapes his boot right across the face of Cortez while he's down on the arena floor. "What a cheap move to use on Cortez!" Comet notes. "There was no call for something like that." "Hey, it's no disqualifications in this match!" Riley reminds. "The ONLY way that you can win is by a submission!" King shakes out some of the cobwebs that he has, grabbing Cortez by the hair now and using that to fling him into the ring under the bottom rope. King doesn't follow Cortez into the ring, however...instead, he grabs the leg of Cortez from the outside of the ring, dragging him all the way to the nearest ring post. King uses his strength to crotch Cortez into the ring post, causing a very visible pained expression to form on Cortez's face now. Not waiting one second, King figure fours Cortez's legs onto the post, pulling him into the hold as well. "YES! What did I tell you, Comet? King knew exactly what he was doing, and now he's going to cause great damage to the body of Todd Cortez...just like he will to Manson at Genesis!" "This move normally would get a disqualification, but in this match this move is as legal as a clothesline, so King can hold it on as long as he wants to!" Comet reminds the crowd as King continues to wrench away at the legs with the post Figure Four. After holding this move on for a good minute, yet still not getting a submission from Cortez, King decides to release the hold, Cortez pulling back and holding his leg in pain. King slides into the ring now, making sure to give the referee a piece of his mind before kicking at the hurting leg of Cortez once more. Kelly applauds this move, as King goes to grab the leg of Cortez once again. Cortez, however, uses his free leg to kick King right into the chest, pushing him away from his leg for now, giving the Urban Legend a chance to recover. Cortez takes this moment to reach towards the ankles of King, and with a hard pull, pulls King down to his back now, hobbling back up to his feet and now using his arms to grab the legs of King, trying to turn him over. "Cortez seems to be going for a Boston Crab type move or something similar, but I don't know how wise a move that is with Cortez's leg hurt by that ring-post attack of King early on the match." Comet notes. Cortez continues to try to turn over King with the Boston Crab type move, but can't hold onto the move as his leg gives out on him. "This is a great sign!" Riley almost beams. "This is a sign that Cortez won't be able to fight on in this match, and King will get to prove his point about what he's going to do to Manson at Genesis!" Cortez, however, doesn't stop on the attack despite falling to the ground with his leg giving out, still holding onto the legs of King with his arms, and sitting down onto the lower back of King, pulling back with his arms with the hold! King winces and struggles at the hold, and the referee dives down to check on King, seeing if he will give up the match to Cortez! "Don't give up King, there's a way to get out of this, you just have to figure it out!" Riley states. "I know you can get out of this hold King!" "The match isn't looking that great right now for Max King, as Cortez is surprising him with his endurance with this sitting Boston Crab like move, making sure that his legs aren't hurt any more by putting his weight onto them." King continues try to struggle out of the hold, and when he gets close enough to the ropes to grab them, pulling himself up with the ropes like a rope ladder, and when he grabs the top rope, pushes of with it, now sitting on the back of Cortez's head, going to grab his legs now to pull back onto them! "That was a pretty good reversal by Max King there..." Comet notes after seeing this attempt. "Now he's on the attack again, and Cortez has a good amount of weight and pain put onto his body." "King is such a smart man...it's only a matter of time before he wears gold in this company, Comet. I feel it in my bones!" Riley states. "But that's not what this match is about, really. This match is about nothing more than trying to prove something, whatever King is trying to prove." Cortez tries something really desperate as King continues to pull back onto the hold that he's got on. Using the flexibility in his body, Cortez swings his arm back as he bends himself back, nailing King right into his back with a hard elbow shot, causing King to have to release the hold, and Cortez crawls his way to the ropes. "Cheap shot by Cortez if you ask me." Riley states. "He knew well and good that King would have made him tap out to that hold if he wasn't such a coward." "Cortez is trying to win the match, Riley. Anything he does to try to escape from King's assault is a good move if you ask me." King turns around to try to grab a hold of Cortez again, but Todd shows that he has enough bearing to get back to his feet with his good leg, pushing himself up and hitting King with a one legged dropkick, taking "The Icon" down to the mat! King rolls onto his chest as he gets knocked down, giving Cortez enough time to crawl as best he can up the ring ropes to the top, and using one leg to push off hits King into the back with his version of the Senton Bomb! Taking this chance, he dives in towards King's back with an elbow shot, continuing to focus his attacking onto the back of the 250 pound opponent. He then leans the elbow into King's back, driving it in and pressing his entire 226 pounds into King's back. "Now it's very apparent what the focal point of the attacks of Cortez will be, as he's working away onto the..." "Very toned." Riley quickly blurts in. "...back of Max King, trying to injure the back as best he can! Perhaps Riley it was not that great of an idea for King to request this match, as he could get injured before Genesis comes about and get cost the victory that he's looking for." "King's a tough man, Comet. There's no way that he's going to give up just by a simple elbow drive into the back. Besides, there's so many ways out of this situation that King only has to pick the best one and then he can take it to Cortez once again." Riley states. Riley's words prove to be true enough shortly after he says them, as King reaches back and rakes the eyes of Cortez with the arm closest to his face. Cortez holds his face now, trying to get his vision back as soon as he can, but King rushes in and hits him with a knee right to the temple! King reaches and grabs the legs of Cortez once again, and this time, while fighting through the pain in his back, spins with the legs of Cortez and puts the Urban Legend into a Figure Four Leglock! "YES! A classic submission for a classic wrestler like King! This is going to be great to see Cortez tap out to this move!" Riley cheers. "This is one of the oldest holds in pro-wrestling, but yet is also a very effective one as well, as you can see on the face of Cortez!" Comet comments. "There is a way out of this, but the question is if Cortez knows how to." King continues to pull away with the hold, moving his body with it so Cortez is as far away from the ring ropes as possible with King getting close enough to them. Kelly, seeing her chance, reaches under the bottom rope and grabs the arms of King, pulling him from the outside of the ring to add some more pressure to the submission and further pain to the legs of Todd Cortez! The referee notices Kelly holding onto the hold like this, and dives out of the ring to yell at her and order her to let go of the hold. "What does this referee think he's doing?" Riley shouts. "This match is no-DQ! What she was doing was perfectly legal in this match!" "It's a referee's discretion on what he allows, Riley, and apparently he's not going to allow Kelly to help her man cheat his way to a victory in this match!" Comet states. While the referee is yelling at Kelly on the arena floor, King lets go of the figure four, much to the relief of both the fans and Todd Cortez, only to grab the leg of Cortez and starts to kick away at the back of the knee as well as the thigh, followed by swinging a hard punch right into it! King starts walking around now, massaging his back as he does, trying to get the kinks out of it now from the attacking that Cortez did to it earlier on in the match. Seeing Cortez roll to his side, King tries to kick him right in the back. Cortez manages to roll away from the kick before it can hit, allowing Todd to get enough time to reach back and grab the leg of King once again, holding him in place, before hitting him between the legs with a low blow! "CHEAP SHOT! THAT'S THE CHEAPEST SHOT THAT I'VE EVER SEEN!" Riley shouts out! "DISQUALIFY CORTEZ!" "This match is no disqualifications, Riley! Besides that fact, the referee was distracted with Kelly outside of the ring, so you have to really blame her for what just happened to your wet dream!" Comet states. Cortez uses his arm to push himself off the mat a bit, using his good leg to get back up to a vertical position once again, and grabs him with a single arm DDT, dropping him to the mat face first! Cortez doesn't take a moment of time to wait, grabbing the legs of King with one of his arms, and the head of King under the chin with the other arm, pulling them with his own back as a pressure point onto King's back, locking his hands together. "A very unique submission move here by Cortez, I think this is just in a desperate attempt to get the win in this match, as he's trying whatever it takes to get Max King to tap out!" "NOO! King, get out of this! Remember, you have a match against Manson that you have to prove yourself for! You need to keep fighting out of this move!" King's body is continually being bent back into the wrong position by the unique hold that Todd Cortez has him in, trying to roll with the move to get into a position that he can get out of the hold and prevent himself from having to submit to the pain. King manages to roll a bit...pushing his body as hard as he can...and kicking with his legs enough to break the hold. Cortez stands up to his good leg now, and bouncing off of hit flips into a moonsault right onto the back of King while "The Icon" is still down on the mat. Cortez rolls a bit onto the back of King, trying to go into another Boston Crab while King is down on the mat. King, however, rolls before Cortez can completely get the hold on, onto his back now and reaching forward to grab him into a Crossface Chickenwing, wrapping his legs around the waist of Cortez as well. "Quick thinking by King! Cortez doesn't know what hit him just there, he's locked up into this great submission hold, and is getting wrenched into positions that the body isn't supposed to go into!" Riley calls. "Max King definitely surprised Todd Cortez with that one, but Cortez manages to get his free arm moving...he's not going to stay in this hold any longer than he has to right here!" Comet states, as Cortez reaches his free hand towards the legs of King that are wrapped around his waist and pulling at them, managing to free the legs enough to flip back into a position that would normally be a pinning predicament, apparently going by instinct in the match. The referee is quick to come over and remind Cortez that pins don't count in this match, and King tries to roll with the hold and put Cortez into the hold once again. However, both King and Cortez are too close to the ring ropes, and they get tangled up into them before falling out of the ring onto the arena floor. "This doesn't bode well for either King or Cortez right now, as both of them are on the outside of the ring. Major damage can be caused to either participant in this match if they're not careful!" Comet states. "And if King can get back up to his feet, that's exactly what would be perfect for him to try in this bout!" Riley states. "Kelly seems to know it too, as she's shouting for King to get onto the attack once again!" King and Cortez both push up with their arms to a kneeling position, and when they face each other they start slugging with each other onto the arena floor, nailing each other hard in the face with punches. King's body weight gets him an advantage though, as Cortez is knocked back onto his back. King gets back up to his feet slowly, but before he can try anything on Cortez, Todd grabs the legs of King and pushes them away from him, causing King to hit face first onto the top ring step! "WHAT!?" Riley calls out, scared and surprised. "What in the heck was that?" "That was called turning the momentum in your favor, despite how desperate it may seem Riley!" Comet states. "King has a glazed look in his eyes now, and this looks really good for The Urban Legend to get a good move into "The Icon" while he's seemingly out!" Cortez crawls over to King's out cold body, making sure to roll him over onto his chest while King is down, then looks over to the side of the ring, and sees an empty steel chair to be used in the next match for Ryan Dustin's commentary. He hobbles over to the chair, trying to get life back into his leg while he moves to it. Taking the chair away from near the table, he unfolds it onto the back of King, sitting onto the chair and grabbing the legs, pulling into a Boston Crab with the chair squarely onto the back of King! "FLAGRANT CHEATING! FLAGRANT CHEATING BY TODD CORTEZ!" Riley shouts. "HE SHOULDN'T BE ALLOWED TO DO THIS!" "But the fact is that he IS being allowed to do this, Riley! This match is going to be over very shortly, because Todd Cortez is really damaging the back of Max King!" Comet calls back. Cortez continues to pull away onto the legs of King, the back of King being pulled up into the hard chair parts. The camera goes up to the face of King, showing the severe pain on the face of King as he is being hurt. The arm of King raises up, apparently showing that he's going to tap out... Until Cortez somehow falls over the chair, landing right next to King. The camera pulls back a bit, to show Kelly holding one of her shoes in her hand, then pans over to show Cortez, with a High Heel shaped indentation in his forehead! "GO KELLY!" Riley calls. "That's the way, girl! Show that you love your man as much, if not more, than I do!" "Kelly has saved Max King at the last minute, and probably has just cost Cortez the match. Cortez getting up though...and he looks REALLY angry!" Comet calls, as Kelly celebrates the action that she just did. Cortez walks up behind her, waiting for the moment that she turns around. "Cortez, you better back off!" Riley calls. "You better not..." As soon as Kelly turns around, Cortez grabs her by the throat, and drops her HARD onto the arena floor with his chokeslam into sit-out powerbomb! "URBAN ASSAULT ONTO KELLY CONNELLY!" Comet calls. "Kelly getting exactly what she deserves for getting involved into the match where she didn't belong!" Comet smiles a bit as Kelly writhes in pain on the arena floor, not noticing that King is behind him with the steel chair that he was being tortured with in hand. Apparently seeing what Cortez did to Kelly just a few minutes ago, King swings the chair HARD in between the eyes of Cortez! "GOOD JOB!" Riley states. "Defend your life-mate like that King!" "Kelly's distractions earlier in the match have cost Cortez the win...and now King is quick to roll Cortez into the ring!" Comet notes. "And he dives in, locking in the Dragon Sleeper, pressing the leg into the back...now pulling the leg for the Compressor!" Riley states. "King is going to get the win now...Cortez doesn't stand a chance!" Comet sighs. "Apparently once again thanks to Kelly, Max King is going to get the win in this match...." As soon as Comet says this, Cortez starts tapping out to the compressor, bringing a big smile to the face of Max King as his theme starts to play. Funyon: Here is your winner..."THE ICON"...MAX...KING! King smiles as he slides out of the ring, now going to help the still out-cold Kelly up over his shoulder, leaving Cortez in pain in the middle of the ring. "Max King may have had Kelly to help him out in this match to get the win, but he won't have that kind of help at Genesis. King may have backed himself into the corner for his match against Manson..." Comet notes. "All he's done is prove that he will make Manson scream in pain, even louder than Cortez did just now. I just can't wait!" Riley says happily. The camera fades out on King, who is carrying Kelly to the back, kissing said woman in her arms on the lips as he leaves.

Fade in from commercial break. The scene opens up directly focused on the Smarktron, which shows an image of the backstage of the infamous Gund Arena. The crowd inside the arena cheers as Mike Van Siclen appears in the corridor. He walks, presumably, toward the stage entrance. He rubs his wrist in preparation, before he's stopped by Ben Hardy! "Mike Van Siclen! May I have a word?" asks Hardy. "Which one would you like?" quips MVS. Van Siclen's response garners a chuckle from Ben. "Are you feeling better? Ready to take on Sean Davis?" Mike nods in response. "Yeah, thanks for asking. That chili sure tore me up. As far as Sean Davis goes.. he's not even worth working up a sweat." As Van Siclen pauses, Cyclone Comet voices over, "The match was postponed due to Citizen Van Siclen's illness. It will take place tonight, here in Cleveland!" Riley responds, "Davis can whoop Van Siclen anytime! I can't believe I used to like that guy!" Mike continues, "As a whole, the Urban Empire will squash the Revolution of Zeroes. Individually, we'll do the same. Cortez tromped Jenkins on Storm, just like I'm going to walk all over Davis tonight." MVS raises a finger to make a point.. ..but fails to get anything out before Sean Davis flies into view and tackles MVS to the concrete!! "Blindside by Citizen Davis!" BOOOOOOOOOOO!! The camera focuses on The Perfect Storm as he pounds his big fist onto Mike Van Siclen's head over and over and over again! Ben Hardy stands against the wall and inches away, but doesn't make it very far. Sean Davis stands and grabs the microphone from Hardy, then glares menacingly at the camera. "Sean Davis doesn't need any match with Mike Van Siclen, or Todd Cortez, or the Masked Man to prove his superiority! In ring and out, Revolution Zero will overcome! Who's next?!" Davis shoves the microphone back into Hardy's chest, then reaches down and picks up the dazed MVS. Sean whips Van Siclen headfirst through a door! He then grabs a steel pipe and jams the handle, effectively locking MVS in! BOOOOOOOOOO!! The crowd jeers again as the shot cuts away from backstage and focuses on the commentating team of Bobby Riley and Cyclone Comet. "I don't expect anything but underhanded and dirty tactics from Revolution Zero.. but to not even fight in the ring.. that's just vile!" complains Comet. "Vile? I see nothing wrong with it. MVS should have been looking for Davis!" The lights in the arena dim and two streaks of pyro flash from ceiling to stage, exploding on either side of the entrance ramp! "F.E." by 40 Below Summer kicks up as flames light up, lining the stage. Sean Davis steps out to a sea of boos. He's followed by Marcus Washington. "The following contest is scheduled for one fall!" announces Funyon. "Introducing first, from Jacksonville, Florida. Weighing in at two hundred and seventy pounds, accompanied by Marcus Washington and representing REVVVOLUTION ZEEEERO! THE PERFECT STOOOOOOOORM! SEEEEEAANN DAAAAAAAVIS!!" BOOOOOOOOOOOOO!! "I can't believe there's still going to be a match! Citizen Van Siclen won't make it!" "Easy win, says I," replies Riley. Comet shoots back, "I bet you had a lot of those." Davis enters the ring easily. "F.E." dies from the speakers, allowing a "Davis Sucks!" chant to come through. I'm the head of the class.. I'm popular.. RAAAAAAAAAHH!! "Popular" by Nada Surf kicks up to the cheers of the crowd. Pyro showers from the stage.. but Van Siclen is nowhere in sight. The crowd begins to quiet before they chant "MVS!" "This is unreal, citizens. Citizen Van Siclen won't be able to make this match. He's still in the closet!" "Where?" After a good thirty seconds, Sean Davis smirks at the referee and shrugs his shoulders. "Popular" fades from the speakers. BOOOOOOOOOOO! MVS! MVS! MVS! "The crowd here in Cleveland trying to rouse Citizen Van Siclen and get him to the ring. I don't think it's going to happen, folks," says Comet. The referee calls Funyon over and converses softly with him. Funyon nods and raises the microphone, announcing to a displeased crowd, "This match has been declared a no contest!" Davis rolls out of the ring and makes his way up the ramp, followed by Washington. "F.E" kicks up as he makes his way out of the arena. Fade out.

SWF Lockdown comes back from commercial just in time to hear... ::CRACK:: "Born Bad" by the Gone Jackals blasts over the house PA and the fans in the Gund Arena go ballistic as "Grand Slam" Mark Stevens strolls out from behind the curtain! Moving slowly, clearly showing the aches and pains from the past few weeks, the Heavy Hitter works his way down the ring. Comet: Ladies and gentlemen, we are back and look who has made his way to the ring! Riley: Oh joy. Not only do I have to put up with watching him attempt to wrestle later tonight, but I have to listen to him talk? I must have been born under a bad sign... Once in the ring, Grand Slam asks for, and receives, a microphone. GSMS: For the last few weeks, I've been getting my ass handed to me night in and night out. Duran tried to crack my skull. Ace Lezaire treated me like a load of garbage. And, of course, last week Toxxic bounced me from pillar to post. Tonight I get the pleasure of facing off with a real hardcore legend, Jamie Drazon. GSMS: Well let me tell you something boys and girls; I haven't had a month like this in a long, long time. And I have to say... I don't like it very much. So last week, after my match I had a little chat with the Commissioner, Alex Zenon about the status of my contract. We found out, much to my delight, that by the same fine print that brought me out of retirement I am only required to compete in a certain number of matches. And my friends, that number is down to four. The crowd cheers, but unenthusiastically. They know this means he'll only be around a few more weeks. GSMS: (laughing a little) I know, I know. You're a little disappointed you're not going to get to see me abused over the next few weeks. I understand that, but I promise, you'll get to see something you all want to see. The crowd cheers a little more at that, but they are waiting. They know it is building to something. GSMS: I asked Commissioner Zenon to make things right. And, as he is a man of his word, he is going to do just that. He managed to slide a contract past King. So, at Genesis V, where the Fed will be born again, there is going to be a little match. GSMS: I'm going to have a match. I'll be teaming up with another man who has come to despise the Suicide King almost as much as I do... Landon "La Cucaracha" Maddix!! The crowd goes nuts now, wondering who the match will be against. In the ring, Grand Slam motions to them to calm down so he can finish telling them. GSMS: It will be Maddix and I against the Suicide King and a partner of his choosing. He's screwed over enough people in the last few years, let's see if he can find anyone willing to be his partner. The crowd cheers Grand Slam's apparent victory, but the cheers don't last long... ALL ABOARD HA HA HA HA HAAAAAA The crowd just unleashes a torrent of abuse at the newly arrived Suicide King. The Gambling Man just stands there, soaking it in as his anthem slowly fades away. King: Congratulations Mark! You and Z really put one over on me didn't you? You honestly think I'd let something like that slip past me? You really think I'm stupid enough to let you make this little match and not know about it? Mark Mark Mark Mark Mark.... I'd have thought you'd know better by now. I am a Gambling Man, but I leave nothing to chance. The only time you take a bet is if the cards are stacked in your favor. GSMS: And I suppose that this was all part of your master plan? You wanted this match so you did all of this? King: No, actually. You suprised me with the tag match Mark. I expected you to come after me one-on-one, let your pride get the best of you. But this will do. This will do nicely. The crowd lets him have it again as Grand Slam tosses down the mic and starts to exit the ring. King: No Mark, I suggest you stay right where you are. You have a match tonight and I don't want you to wear yourself out. Grand Slam stops and backs into the ring, knowing that King has a very valid point. The Suicide King turns to leave, but stops and turns around, an evil smile on his face. King: Oh, and I wouldn't worry yourself about my partner. I guarantee you'll be able to pencil him in before the night is over. In fact, I'd say you can bet on it, old man. King leaves Grand Slam standing in the ring, slightly confused and wondering why, if he got the match he wanted, he feels like he's been trumped by King once again... FADE

"We're back from commercial citizens, and it looks like Candace has already made her way into the ring! How'd that happen?" "No one will ever know, Comet." Riley says confidently. "I bet it involved magic, though." "Magic, Riley?" Comet asks his partner. "She's a witch! Burn her!" "There must be a more reasonable explanation than that, Riley. Something like... say... the production crew decided it would be necessary to rush the show along a little and had Citizen Candace enter the ring during the commercials to save time." Comet explains. "..." "Yes, Riley?" "She's a witch! Burn her!" Riley screams. Riley's voice suddenly becomes irrelevant as the entire arena is drenched in dark blue light. The sound of an acoustic guitar floats through the air. The fans in the Gund Arena stand up and show support for the young man from St. Louis as Austin Sly emerges from behind the curtains. He slowly walks to the edge of the stage before beginning his pre-match stretches. Funyon announces his arrival. "Making his way to the ring from St. Louis, Missouri, weighing in at two hundred and thirty pounds, Austin Sly!" Austin jumps up onto the ring apron and promptly hooks his arm over the top rope. He turns his head and scans through the arena, not focusing on anyone or anything, just soaking in the atmosphere. He turns his attention back to the ring and across to Candace before entering between the middle ropes. "Now while I tend to hate both of these two equally, nothing would please me more than to watch them tear the hell out of each other tonight!" Riley says with joy. "Behave yourself Riley! Now while these two citizens are being pitted against each other in a hardcore match, we should think of it as more of an epic battle for supremacy, and not just a simple blood sport!" "Blood sport! Blood sport! Blood sport!" Riley chants. Candace and Austin stand in the ring listening to referee Nick Riviera explain the... erm... "rules" of the match. Both competitors seem to ignore him though, as Austin bores a hole through Candace (in a non-sexual way, of course). Candace just stares right back at her opponent, trying not to let her concentration be broken by the man three years her elder. Once it becomes painfully obvious that Nick has neither wrestler's attention, he just calls for the ring bell to start the match. Ding ding ding!! Austin stands in front of Candace, but doesn't make a move to swing at her. Instead he simply taunts Candace in an effort to get her to make the first move. After a little hesitation, Candace leaps in the air sending a spinning heel kick soaring towards Austin's face, only to have it ducked by the more-than-prepared ring veteran. This leaves a clear opportunity for Austin as he quickly locks his arms around Candace's waist and sends her flying over his head and onto her back with a snap suplex. The Joshi Dragon jumps back up to her feet only to receive a quick knee to her stomach that bends her over. Austin takes a step back before launching himself into the air trying to nail the back of his opponent's head with a scissor kick. She quickly rolls out of the way though! Candace jumps out of the roll onto the middle rope in order to springboard back off of it, but Austin follows her closely and catches her on his shoulder as she comes off the rope! Sly hesitates for a second before grabbing Candace's legs and slinging her off his shoulder and to the mat, landing hard on her back. Having knocked the wind out of his opponent, Austin quickly rolls out of the ring to search for some hardcore goodies. The fans begin to cheer at even the slightest implication of a weapon. "A quick opening exchange, and now Citizen Sly is already searching the outside of the ring for a weapon of some sort!" Comet comments happily. "For once I'm going to have to join your pleasant optimism, Comet. I can't wait to see what Austin hits this women with first." Austin immediately begins searching under the ring for any tool of destruction, emerging first with a steel folding chair. He pulls it out to a cheer from the audience, but decides to bypass it in favor of searching for a better choice. He slides the chair into the ring before disappearing again under the ring. Austin re-emerges this time with a long slender object wrapped inside of a blanket. He sits this object in the ring before climbing back in himself. As he turns to unwrap the blanket, Candace cuts him off at the pass with a thundering chair shot that sends him tumbling to the mat. Austin tries to shake off the effect of the chair shot, but as he climbs back to his feet he receives another shot, this time to the head. The force of the blow sends him tumbling backwards and through the ropes back to the outside of the ring. "It seems that both citizens know exactly what's at stake here and are pulling out no stops! There's a lot on the line for both people in this match!" Comet squeals with excitement. "Really, Comet? How so?" Riley's words drip with sarcasm. "For Citizen Sly, it's a chance to prove that his title win against Johnny Dangerous wasn't simply a fluke happening, and possibly right the wrongs that he's had to endure over the past month! For Candace, it's a chance to prove that she can win with or without Frisco! This isn't just a match to decide who gets a shot at Sean Davis, oh no, this goes much deeper than that." Candace doesn't waste any time before searching the blanket to discover what exactly Austin had found important enough to draw him back into the ring. When she unfolds the wrapping, though, she's a little drawn back by what she has found. Candace curiously grabs one of the objects and lifts it into the air to reveal a light tube! The camera pans around to the side of the ring to reveal that in front of Candace lies four more identical tubes, all in perfect condition. The Joshi Dragon clutches tightly to her new found toy, before stepping cautiously through the ropes onto the outside of the ring. She quietly hops down to the outside floor near where Austin is trying to pull himself back to his feet. He stumbles haphazardly to the side of the ring where he quickly grabs one of the ring posts from the outside to help support himself. Candace takes this opportunity to wind back and swing the light tube at Austin's face! Crash! She only connects with the ring post! Austin drops down to his knee to avoid the shot and cover his head as the glass from the light tube shatters and flies into the air causing a rain of glass shards to fall around that corner of the ring. "If Candace would've connected with that shot, I have to believe that the match would already be over! What a lucky break for Citizen Sly! Now lets see if he can capitalize on it." Comet notes. "Blood sport!" Riley simply yells. Austin shoves off the mat with his knee sending his shoulder sailing into the midsection of Candace. He charges with her on his shoulder carrying her across the outside of the ring and into the fan barrier! The former Cruiserweight champion has forgotten one thing though, the fact that Candace still holds the end of the light tube in her hand, broken glass and all. As Austin leans his body back to drive his shoulder into Candace's stomach again, Candace takes a wild swing with the chunk of glass and connects with Austin's left arm slicing his flesh open. Austin screams out in pain as he grabs his arm and turns away from the Joshi Dragon. While gritting his teeth in pain, Austin quickly rolls into the ring trying to escape his attacker. Candace wants none of this though, she has to keep pressure on her larger opponent if she hopes to win this match. Taking her first big risk of the night, Candace climbs onto the side of the ring before jumping onto the top rope and launching herself at Austin with a springboard dropkick. She connects, sending him down to the mat with a thud! Candace quickly crawls on top of Austin for the first pin attempt of the night. One! Two! No! Austin kicks out before referee Nick Riviera can bring his hand down again for the three count. Candace disappointedly slaps the ground, but she doesn't worry about it for long, climbing back to her feet without trying another quick pin attempt. "Candace pulled out a high risk maneuver and it almost paid off with the right to face Sean Davis for the title most likely at Genesis! How big would it be for this young woman to go into the biggest pay-per-view of them all with a shot to walk out with the Hardcore title?" Comet says gleefully. "What would be the chances of Candace beating a man like Sean Davis, Comet? Even before joining forces with Toxxic in Revolution Zero, Davis would've been too much man for her to handle." Riley sneers at Comet. With a smile, Candace casually reaches her hand into the front of her skirt much to the chagrin of all the men at ringside. Her hand re-emerges quickly though with a pair of brass knuckles in it. She slowly puts her fingers through the holes, expecting no resistance from Austin who has just now climbed back to his knees obviously still wincing with pain in his arm. He's quickly sent back to the mat though as the brass-laden fist soars into his forehead. Once again as if she has nothing but time in the world, Candace removes the weapon from her fist and carelessly tosses it down to the mat. A slight trickle of blood rolls off of Austin's forehead and down to the mat as he lies helplessly on his back. Candace drops to her knees before falling back across Austin's body. Referee Nick Riviera is right on time for the count once again. One! Two! Three! Nooooooooo! Austin kicks out at the last moment! The fans in the Gund Arena go insane as Sly somehow finds a way to power his way out of the pin! Candace looks around in amazement, almost sure that she had signed her ticket to Genesis! The Joshi Dragon quickly climbs on top of Austin and begins sending right hand after right hand soaring into the open wound on Austin's forehead, trying to open it up as far as she can as fast as she can. Sly fights out the only way he knows how, sending his hand raking across Candace's eyes! "Eye rake!" Riley yells, "you support this, Comet?" "While it may not have been my first choice, it's certainly a legal move in this environment! Citizen Sly is fighting for his life at this moment!" Candace grabs her face as she jumps up to her feet and off of Austin. Free for a few moments, Sly rolls over and out of the ring in an effort to put a little distance between himself and Candace. He has a hard time standing though, as he stumbles to the fan barrier in order to support himself. He leans back against the wall panting with fans reaching around to slap his back, enough blood leaking from his head to make Markus Cirillo proud, but still with a look of determination in his eyes and a smirk on his face. Austin drops to his knees and crawls to the ring once again, searching under the ring for something very specific. He digs deeper under the ring, leaving just his legs exposed to the outside world. Inside the ring, Candace quickly recovers from the shock of what just happened, and rolls out of the ring to try and find her opponent. She quickly finds him, and grabs a firm hold on his foot before trying to pull him out from beneath the ring. Austin re-emerges without much of a struggle only to send his free foot soaring into Candace's forehead sending her teetering back away from him. In one quick motion, Austin climbs back to his feet before pulling his prized possession free from beneath the ring to great praise from the fans at ringside! "It's that damn weedwacker! Austin has Dace's weedwacker!" Riley yells in shock. Brrrrr-brr-brr-brrrrr! Austin pulls back on the starter cord bringing the yard-beast to life, causing Candace's eyes to open wide enough to drive a truck through. Sly simply holds the device above his head drawing even more appreciation from the fans. "Dace F'n Night!" "Dace F'n Night!" "Dace F'n Night!" Candace takes advantage of this lovely moment of shared respect for a Horrorcore legend and a Hardcore apprentice to run like hell! Austin gives chase, but Candace is just a little too fast for him and makes her way around the ring and quickly slides under the bottom rope. Austin takes a slice at her leg as she slides in, but only connects with the bottom ring rope, fraying it. Candace grabs up the steel chair that she'd used in the match earlier as protection before motioning for Austin to get in the ring. On the outside of the ring, Austin revs back the weedwacker before motioning for Candace to join him with a smirk on his face. He quickly realizes that the match is going no where with the two of them separated, he cautiously puts the weedwacker in first and then climbs under the bottom rope. It doesn't seem that the Joshi Dragon had planned this far ahead though as she drops the chair and scatters out the opposite side of the ring and ducks down beside it. Austin charges across the ring and leans the weedwacker over the top rope first. Candace shoots back up and takes a slight scrape from one of the blades before plucking Sly's feet out from under him, causing him to fall backwards onto the canvas. The weedwacker bounces out of Austin's hands when he hits the mat and slides free from both competitors. Candace enters into the ring under the bottom rope before reaching around to check her back. The strap on her shirt has been broken and there's a red mark on her back, but not much damage. Referee Nick Riviera takes this free moment to remove the motorized instrument of death from the ring, earning him some heat from the fans. "Citizen Candace saved herself there! We can only imagine what might've happened if Citizen Sly really got after her with that weedwacker." Comet notes. "I only wish that Austin would've really gotten after her with that weedwacker. I can't help but feel a little cheated now." Riley moans. Inside the ring, Austin struggles to climb to his feet now that his adrenaline burst has been depleted. Candace has no problems moving though and quickly leaps on Austin trying to keep her larger opponent down. The Joshi Dragon sends two quick kicks into Austin's side before going for a knockout blow with a spinning heel kick to his face. The veteran Sly ducks it once again though! With Candace off-guard, Austin gathers his strength and belly to belly suplexes his opponent into the air. Candace lands hard on the steel chair that had been left in the ring by her earlier! Austin drops to his knee before running his hand back through his hair, trying to calm himself and wipe a lot of the blood free from his forehead. "It looks like this might be the start of a brand new match, Riley! Both competitors are hurting, now it's up to whoever can gather the strength to take advantage of this situation and possibly win the match!" Comet says. "Blood sport! Blood sport! Blood sport!" Riley chants again. Austin uses his good arm to help shove himself back up off the mat and to his feet, while Candace uses the ropes to her advantage to get up again quickly. Candace scoops up the steel chair that she landed on, but before she can take a swing with it, Austin comes charging in spears her causing her to drop the chair and both competitors to tumble out of the ring! The fans at ringside acknowledge this with a cheer and a little "Ho-lee shit!" chant. "It seems like these two can't stay inside of the ring tonight," Riley notes. "Hopefully they grab a few more weapons to hurt each other with while they're out there!" Indeed Austin does quickly go searching underneath the ring for a few more weapons. He re-emerges with a fire extinguisher in his hand that he rolls into the ring. He closely follows it in, but turns his attention back to ringside where Candace is still trying to climb back to her feet. Austin casually walks over to the ropes before leaping up and onto the top rope, and then springboarding off towards his opponent! No one is home though, as Austin comes crashing down to the mat with a thud! Candace grabs Austin by the back of his hair and drags him back to the ring before rolling him in under the bottom rope. Candace climbs up the ring steps and enters into the ring through the ropes before making a b-line straight for the fire extinguisher. Austin slowly crawls on the mat, trying to make it to his precious light tubes that he brought in to the ring when the match had just begun, but he's cut off when Candace decides to let the contents of the fire extinguisher fly in his direction! The whole scene becomes a cloud, and not even our ring announcers can tell what's going on. "Can you see anything Riley?" "No! All I can see is a cloud of smoke!" "It's not really smoke, Riley. It's actually a chemical spray!" "Shut up you Batman wanna-be!" When the smoke clears, we see Candace standing in the ring with her foot in between Austin's legs trying to get just the right hold to lock in a sharpshooter! Austin struggles with her though, trying to move his legs and block with his arms any chance of ever getting locked in such a deadly hold. Candace gathers all of her strength and tries to roll him over again, but Austin blocks it with both of his arms! The Joshi Dragon keeps what bit of the hold she has locked on, but relaxes a little to try and make one final attempt at rolling Austin onto his stomach to fully lock in the move. With this opening, Austin reaches back and finally successfully grabs one of the light tubes free from the blanket, but it goes completely un-noticed by his competitor. Candace tries one last time to roll Austin over and finish the sharpshooter, but as Austin begins to turn over, he brings the light tube with him and introduces in to the side of Candace's face! She un-knowingly releases the hold and drops like a rock to the mat! "I think Citizen Sly just knocked Candace out!" Comet yells, shocked. "Blood sport! Blood sport! Blood sport!" Riley chants yet again. With Candace down on the mat, Austin slowly crawls over to her and rolls her onto her back before covering her. Referee Nick Riviera drops down to count the pin. One! Two! Three! Ding ding ding!! "Ladies and gentleman, your winner and new number one contender to the Hardcore Championship, Austin Sly!" Funyon announces. Referee Riviera pulls Austin's arm up in the air to show he has won, as the fans begin to cheer for a match well done and a new number one contender. Austin slowly climbs to his feet, blood dripping off his arm and down his face, and stands in solitude to soak in the appreciation from his fans. "He did it! Citizen Sly has taken another step towards restoring himself as a contender in this federation! Aren't you happy, Riley?" Comet squeals. "Yay..." Riley mumbles quite apathetically. Austin drops to his knees and rolls out of the ring before starting his climb up the ramp and out of the ring, while our show fades out to the next segment.