SWF Smarkdown (July 8/2002)

[Guest BA_Baracus]

The Baltimore Arena in Maryland! The scene for tonight's Smarkdown! The opening introductions have just finished, with the pyros still leaving dust in the air. The Maryland fans are on their feet, ecstatic about tonight's attractions.

 

"(Mark) Welcome to Smarkdown!!"

 

"(Riley) Exactly what I had in mind, Mark."

 

"(Mark) We have a great show for you tonight but earlier tonight, the ICTV Champion Erek Taylor arrived at the scene, and I'm glad to say, LDP was not around."

 

"(Riley) The old dog? He better not be around after what Strangler did to him."

 

The "Earlier Tonight" segment of the show appears on the Smarkstron. A suave sky blue corvette pulls up to the parking lot area of the arena. The fans are anxiously awaiting who it is, and as soon as the door opens, they erupt in cheers. Erek Taylor steps out from the car and tosses the keys to the valet. Taylor, sporting his usual attire, drapes the ICTV belt on his shoulder before heading towards the entrance. The security guard heads out and stops Erek in his tracks.

 

"(Erek) Is there a problem, officer?"

 

"(Guard) Uh.... no.... I was told to give you a message. Ash Ketchum wants to see you in his locker room."

 

"(Erek) Thank you, my good man!"

 

"(Guard) No problem."

 

"(Erek) He better not go hardcore on my X-Box....."

 

Taylor disappears into the hallways... the camera following his every step...

 

..and we're back to live action!

[Guest BA_Baracus]

SINGLES MATCH

Frost vs. Z

- Who will prevail in this battle between the Carnival and the Magnificent 7?

 

LIGHT-HEAVYWEIGHT TITLE MATCH

El Luchadore Magnifico © vs. Ced Odornez

- Magnifico’s back and ready to defend his LHW title! Ced Odornez has stepped up to the bat…

 

HARDCORE TITLE MATCH

Ash Ketchum © vs. Jay Dawg

- Claiming the hardcore division is in a sorry state, Jay Dawg challenged Ash to this match. Ash accepted the challenge from Stubby’s right hand man, but after he did the commish decided to add a few extra pro-Dawg stipulations to the match.

Match Description – Regular DQ and count-out rules are not in effect. Submissions, pinfalls and knockouts count anywhere in the arena for Jay Dawg. Ash can only win the match within the ring. Also, Ketchum is not allowed to use any type of weapon within the match or the title will be awarded to Jay Dawg.

 

US TITLE MATCH

Tom Flesher © vs. “TNT” Taylor Nicholas Thompson

- TNT won his chance to face the US champion in a 4-way match at Snake Eyes. He gets his match this Monday against Clan member Tom Flesher.

 

TRIPLE THREAT TAG TEAM TITLE MATCH

Chris Wilson & Stryke © vs. Chris Raynor & Edwin MacPhisto vs. Thoth & Fallout

- The Magnificent 7, Carnival and Clan face off for the tag straps. The Carnival and Clan have formed an uneasy alliance and if they gang up on the M7 team will Wilson and Stryke be able to escape with the titles?

Match Description – DQ and count-out rules are in effect. 3 men are allowed in the ring at once and can only tag out to their designated partners. The first team to score a pinfall, submission or knockout is the winner.

[Guest BA_Baracus]

The camera fades in on the commentator’s table with Mark Stevens raising his head up from some paperwork and his partner Bobby Riley picking ice out of a rocks glass filled with a brown liquid and tossing the chunks on the floor.

 

Riley: (mumbling) “I said on the rocks, not on the Rock of Gibraltar. I could go ice skating in this damn glass.”

 

Stevens: “Welcome back from the opening pleasantries…”

 

Riley: “I don’t see what was so pleasant about them.”

 

Stevens: “Ahem…anyway folks, we are getting set here for our first match of the card with the Midnight Carnival squaring off against the Magnificent 7 in the personages of Z and Frost.”

 

Riley: “Frost clubbed Z’s old buddy Ced Ordonez on Storm like a baby seal, while Z and the other two stooges squeaked out a very lame disqualification win over the pride of the Magnificent Seven. Which I believe was actually the fourth film in the series.”

 

Stevens: “From word we’ve heard, Chris Wilson likes to the think of the group more as Ocean’s 11.”

 

Riley: “Yeah, but Ocean’s 7 would just be silly, although TNT does remind me of Norman Fell from the original movie.”

 

The camera cuts to Funyon in the ring, pleasant in peach, raising the microphone to his lips.

 

Funyon: “Our first match of this evening is scheduled for one fall and will be held under standard SWF rules.”

 

With that, the opening rocking riffs of “Cities on Flame with Rock ‘n Roll” fills the arena and is nearly drowned out by the thunderous booing of the crowd. Frost steps out from behind the ring curtain with a scowl on his face and a defiant fist lifted up to the fans. He strides confidently toward the ring while rubbing his wrists in anticipation of the slaughter to come.

 

Funyon: “First introducing from Reykjavik, Iceland at a weight of 296lbs. He is a member of the Magnificent 7 and known to be one…cold… FRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSSSSSSSST!”

 

Stevens: “These two men are quite familiar with each other from their SJL days. Frost recently beat Z in a tag match while partnered up with his lady love Sydney Sky, although the Z-Man did score a victory over Frost in a handicapped match with the assistance of the Suicide King and a suitcase full of Def Leppard albums not long before that.”

 

Riley: “You can’t call him Z-Man, that’s gimmick infringement and I don’t think any of us really want Tom Zenk to come down here.”

 

Funyon looks at the index card in his hand with distinct puzzlement and bulging eyes as Frost steps over the top rope to enter the ring. The harmonious strains of “Bittersweet Symphony” strike up on the sound system and the audience is alive with a curious buzz.

 

Funyon: “And his opponent from Los Angeles, California at a weight that is none of your damn business. The Dairy Queen…ZYDNEY ZKYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!”

 

Z skips out from the back like a school girl wearing a plaid skirt, a black tank top with a white blouse over it which is knotted at the bottom and a brown wig with locks cascading over his shoulders and half way down his back. He gives the crowd a serene smile and then narrows his eyes with a more serious look before trotting down the ramp toward the ring.

 

Riley: “I KNEW THE KID WAS FRUITY LIKE LIBERACE ON A ‘TRADING SPACES’ MARATHON. THAT’S JUST SICK!”

 

Mark Stevens is cackling so hard next to him that he can’t say a word and just wheezes and gasps over his mic.

 

Frost stares out at Z with his eyes wired wide open and his face turning blood red. The veins in his neck look set to explode as the howling laughter of the audience bathe over him. Frost tears out of the ring and flies up the ramp, the proverbial bat out of hell. Z stops his prancing to wave coquettishly at Frost, before the realization of Frost barreling toward him lights his face with fear. Frost impales Z’s with a spear and the two men go splatting back to the ring ramp. Frost leans up straddling Z and hammers his face with crazed punches.

 

Stevens: (regaining his composure) “Haha…Z has come out dressed like Frost’s girlfriend…heehee…and SJL star Sydney Sky…hoho…in a strange attempt at psychological warfare.”

 

Riley: “KICK HIS ASS, FROST! NOT SO FUNNY NOW IS IT, UNCLE MILITIE!”

 

Referee Sexton Hardcastle tries to pull Frost off of Z in vain and pleads with the man to move it into the ring. Frost hops to his feet while pulling Z up by his right wrist. He whips his opponent into the nearby ring apron and Z takes it chest first while his wig slips off his head to reveal his natural (if you want to call it that) blue hair. The impact of the blow sends him recoiling back and Frost catches Z under his right arm to drop him to the floor with an inverted DDT. The fans’ laughter slowly segues to nervous twitters and jeering at Frost. Frost sends a knee down into Z’s throat and proceeds to choke him out with his discarded wig while Hardcastle continues to beg Frost to get it into the ring.

 

Riley: “If anybody in the back can hear me, bring me six more of these and leave the bottle.” (he takes a long stiff drink from his glass)

 

Frost rises up from his choking and yanks Z to his feet with a hand wrapped tightly in his hair. Frost drags the wobbly grappler up the ring stairs and stands front to back with him on the ring apron. He clamps Z in a rear waistlock and hoists him up off the top of the ring steps and release German suplexes him over the top rope into the ring. Z lands on the crown of his skull and flops over on his face. Frost yells at the noisy crowd to ‘shut the hell up’ and gingerly climbs the outside ring post to perch on the top rope.

 

Stevens: “This course of action doesn’t seem to be really working out for Z. Instead of throwing Frost off his game, it just seems to have galvanized him with hatred for Z in mocking the love of his life.”

 

Riley: “Win or lose, Frost is going to pound him into ground chuck after the match anyway.”

 

Z weakly pushes himself up by his arms and up to his knees. He staggers to his feet and zigzags across the ring like a drunk at 3a.m. His skirt unsnaps loose and slips to his ankles to reveal a pair of standard red wrestling trunks.

 

Riley: “Thank you, Lord, for him not wearing a thong.”

 

Z turns back toward the corner where Frost lies in wait and the huge Icelander bends down into the ropes for some extra spring before sailing off with a flying clothesline. Z takes a groggy step forward and is tripped up in the skirt. He falls down as Frost soars overhead and crashes hard to the ring. Frost rolls to the near ropes with all of the air squeezed out of his body. The fans cheer and Z retakes his feet. He gives a feeble smile and waves to the crowd, not sure what he did.

 

Riley: “Lucky friggin’ bastard.”

 

Stevens: “Often times that is all Z has working for him and he better hope his luck holds out if he wants a win here today.”

 

Riley: “He’s going to need all the luck he can get just to escape with his spleen intact.”

 

Z glances over to see Frost recovering on the mat from the missed high risk maneuver. Still unsure of how that came about, he smiles wider and blows a kiss over to the commentator’s table.

 

Riley: “He was looking at you.”

 

Stevens: “It’s pretty clear that that was directed at you.”

 

Riley: “You’re a much finer piece of man meat than I am.”

 

Stevens: “True, but I hear Z likes them on the scrawny side.”

 

Z walks over to Frost and hoists the big man up as best he can by the shoulders. He whips Frost to the far ropes and then springs off the near ropes himself. The two men collide in the ring with Z delivering one of his patented arm grenades. Frost teeters back slightly, but does not go down. Z rushes back into the ropes and comes off with another one. Frost windmills his arms to stay on his feet and twists to now face the top half of the ring. Z bounces into those ropes and hammers Frost with another arm grenade. He windmills his arms even wilder to stay up and his eyes comically bulge out of his head.

 

Riley: “He’s making Frost look like Bluto in a Popeye cartoon.”

 

Z puts his finger in his mouth and then holds it up to judge the wind direction. He shakes his head affirmatively and hits the ropes again with his arm outstretched. Frost recovers and bends down for a backdrop. Z baseball slides underneath Frost while grabbing his loose left arm by the wrist and taking it between his legs. Z hops to his feet while still gripping the wrist and forces Frost to crotch himself. The fans ‘ooo’ in sympathy and Z steps a leg over to boot Frost in the rear end and send him sprawling into the ropes.

 

Stevens: “Z shivered his timbers there.”

 

Riley: “I only hope he doesn’t attempt to blow him down.”

 

Frost painfully climbs to his knees and then to his feet with his head still down. Z takes a few wide strides over to Frost and in a fluid motion puts one leg around the big man’s back and under his jaw while grabbing his left arm. Z quickly follows by bringing his other leg up and around and slams Frost face first into the mat with his legs while holding onto the arm.

 

Stevens: “The Krazy Krash from Z and he has this match well in hand.”

 

Z cinches Frost’s wrist tight and grapevines his arm with his legs in an inverted crucifix armbar. Z grinds the heels of his boots into Frost’ shoulder and he grits his teeth in pain. However, Frost is too near the ropes and reaches out to grab them and force the break.

 

Riley: (knocking back the rest of his drink) “I couldn’t make it through this match without John Daniels.”

 

Stevens: “Don’t you mean Jack?”

 

Riley: “He may be Jack to you but when you've known him as long as I have...Hoo-ah!”

 

Frost rolls into the near ropes and pulls himself up with both hands on the top strand. He slouches over the rope for just a second to get his breath. Z hurdles over the top rope near Frost, makes a momentary stop on the apron to grab the man by his head, and then jumps down to the floor to clothesline Frost on the top rope. Frost flies backwards to the canvas grabbing his throat. Z scampers around the outside of the ring to retrieve his wig from the mouth of the entrance ramp. He slaps it on his head and it hangs half off, very disheveled.

 

Stevens: “Z jacked his jaws on that rope drop guillotine.”

 

Riley: “Z needs to stop playing around and go for a pin or Frost is going to jack his head through the roof of this building.”

 

Z slides back into the ring and pops to his feet long enough to hop up on one leg and drop a knee into Frost’s injured throat. With the brute stunned, Z rushes to pin both of Frost’s arms behind his legs and then rotates him over on his stomach. Z climbs onto Frost’s back and proceeds to blow kisses to the crowd.

 

Stevens: “I don’t think Z cares about winning here, he just wants to humiliate Frost as much as he can.”

 

Riley: “That’s a victory in itself. Frost is not a man who likes to be made light of.”

 

Z plucks the wig off of his head and drapes it over Frost’s cranium. He steps off of the grappler and backs up to slouch nonchalantly on the far ropes. Frost fidgets and fights to unlock his arms and then climbs to his feet. The wig slides down to block Frost’s view and he starts swinging wild haymakers as the audience guffaws again.

 

Riley: “I wonder if that’s the first time he’s played dress up to like Sydney.”

 

Stevens: “That is an image that will haunt me for life.”

 

Frost twirls around in the ring, throwing punches, while Z looks on with a wicked grin. When Frost faces the bottom half of the ring toward Z, he takes off with another of his signature arm grenades. The wig finally falls off of Frost’s face just in time for him to jut out a hand and catch Z around the throat. Frost pulls Z into his chest, bends down to face him, and belts loose a primitive scream that blows Z’s hair back. Z closes his eyes and crosses himself as Frost lifts him high in the air for a choke slam.

 

Stevens: “Nice knowing you, Z, give my regards to hell.”

 

Riley: “Make sure they have Bobby’s reservations booked.”

 

The crowd hisses with vehemence as Frost parades Z around the ring with a maniacal laugh. Frost steps over the skirt from earlier lying in the ring and gets the tip of his boot caught in it. He trips forward and loses his grip on Z. Z slides fairly harmlessly to the mat as Frost shoots headlong into the near turnbuckle. He takes it in the face and bounces back to spin around and slump in the corner.

 

Riley: “It’s like I always say: skirt’s aren’t nothing but trouble.”

 

Z kicks the skirt out of the ring and finally unties the blouse from around his doughy gut and tosses it to the side.

 

Stevens: “I guess this is the equivalent of ‘taking down the straps.’”

 

Z charges at Frost and runs up the mammoth man with his left leg on the Icelander’s inner thigh. He goes to flip his body over for the backbrain calf kick, but his foot slips on Frost’s sweaty leg and he spins out of control to the miss the strike and crash to the mat in front of Frost in a heap.

 

Riley: “Tick-tock Z, according to my watch your luck has run out.”

 

Stevens: “I don’t think I’d trust that Rollox of yours.”

 

Frost shakes his head to wake himself up and then straightens up out of the corner. Z is sprawled out on his side and Frost rears back his right leg to nail him in the ribs.

 

Riley: “Look at that punt. The Detroit Lions would kill for Frost.”

 

Stevens: “They’d kill for anybody breathing.”

 

Frost bends over to pick Z up with one hand between his legs and the other on his shoulder. He hefts the wrestler in the air and twirls him up and over like a Chinese acrobat before slamming him to the mat with authority. Frost covers with a lateral press.

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THRE-

 

Z barely lifts a shoulder.

 

Stevens: “Near fall off of the tilt-a-whirl slam.”

 

Riley: “Turn off the lights and flip over the chairs, this party is over.”

 

Frost climbs to his feet while pulling Z up by his left arm. Z tries to dive for the ropes, but Frost has his wrist held solid and lifts his arm up to expose his side. He sledgehammers a left hook into Z’s heart.

 

Stevens: “TOUCH OF FROST!”

 

Z staggers back holding his chest as Frost lets go of his wrist. Dazed by the blow, he is easy prey for Frost to fold in half and to shove his head between his legs. Frost locks his arms under Z’s elbows in a double underhook and flings him up against his chest before blasting him down with a powerbomb that literally shakes the ring.

 

Riley: “EARLY WINTER AND Z’S ICED!”

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THREE!

 

DING DING DING

 

Funyon: “Here is your winner by pinfall. FRRRRRRRROOOOOOOSSSSSSST!”

 

Frost’s music blares through the arena as the ref tries to raise the man’s hand in victory. He shakes him off and slides under the bottom rope to the floor. He throws up the apron skirt and pull out a steel chair.

 

Riley: (singing) “When a chair hits Z in the eye like a big pizza pie, that’s brain damage.”

 

Frost glides back into the ring as the tough and resilient Z staggers woozily to his feet. Frost rears back to clock Z in the head and the wrestler’s eyes shoot out of his head like in a Tex Avery cartoon and he points a shaky finger behind Frost. Frost spins around to find nothing and Z takes this opportunity to jet out of the ring and hit the ground running. Frost pivots back around to see Z halfway up the entrance ramp and takes off after him with the chair cocked at the ready. The two men disappear behind the ring curtain as the fans start up a “Frosty the Snowman” sing-a-long.

 

Stevens: “Frost might have came away with the pinfall, but this looks like a moral victory for Z.”

 

Riley: “He humiliated Frost, made fun of his woman and drove me to drink more than I already do now.” (Riley clanks the ice in his empty glass)

 

Stevens: “While Bobby finds a refill so he can keep up the standards of broadcasting excellence all of you at home are used to, enjoy these commercial messages.”

Riley stares confused at Stevens as the camera fades to break.

 

Riley: “They’re commercials, they can’t enjoy commercials, that’s an oxymoron.”

[Guest BA_Baracus]

The camera fades in on intrepid interviewer Ben Hardy standing in front of a dressing room door with a microphone in his hands and a silver earpiece dangling from his left lobe. Behind the door, sounds of wild pounding and thumping can be heard.

 

Hardy: “On the other side of this door (BANG!) is former SJL European Champion Frost (CRASH!). He doesn’t sound too happy, but let’s see if we can get a few words with him. (WHAP!)

 

Hardy takes a big gulp of fear and looks up to the ceiling for some divine help. He reaches back to push the door open with his right hand and steps backwards into the room. A tired, sweat soaked Frost can be seen picking up a trashcan and forcibly slamming it into a row of lockers. It makes a metallic clang as the locker fronts dent from the damage.

 

Hardy: “You seem to be upset about what happened out in the ring just now…”

 

Frost glowers down at Hardy and his voice nervously trails off. He shoots Frost a big friendly smiled and it is returned with a look of smoldering hatred.

 

Frost: “I’M NOT UPSET! I’M PISSED OFF! Z MAKES ME LOOKS LIKE AN IDIOT IN FRONT OF THOUSANDS OF FANS! NOT TO MENTION FOR THE PAST WEEK I’VE (he points to himself) HAD TO OPEN THE SHOWS AGAINST A MIDGET WHO WILL CARRYING MY LUGGAGE BY THIS TIME NEXT YEAR IN CED ORDONEZ!”

 

Frost twists to his left with lightening speed and imbeds a right hand into a nearby locker. The door buckles nearly in half and pops off of its hinges.

 

Frost: “THE SWF WANTED ME! I DIDN’T WANT THEM! THE POWERS AT BE WANT TO SEE HOW BRUTAL I CAN BE! MCWEED WANTS TO FEEL THE VIOLENCE PULSING THROUGH HIS MONITOR! (he points at the camera) I’LL SHOW HIM AND THE WORLD HOW SADISTIC I CAN BE! ON STORM, I WANT A SHOT AT THE HARDCORE TITLE! I DEMAND A SHOT AT THE HARDCORE TITLE! I NEED A SHOT AT THE HARDCORE TITLE! AND IF I DON’T GET IT, THERE WON’T BE A HARDCORE CHAMPION BREATHING TO DEFEND IT!”

 

Frost grabs Ben Hardy by the lapels of his jacket and chucks him like a rag doll into the row of lockers. He bounces off and slams to the floor with a wet thud. The camera cuts to his limp form lying face down on the locker room floor and cuts away.

[Guest BA_Baracus]

The final commercial of the break fades away, quickly replaced by the image of the SmarkTron, mounted high and mighty amongst the fans within the Baltimore Arena. After a few seconds of relative serenity, the house lights dim down and "B4U ~glorious style~" begins pumping over the speakers. The lights around the entranceway flash in rhythm to the bass, the crowd chants "Ced" in unison and the curtains are pulled back by the emerging Ced. He surveys the crowd at the top of the ramp momentarily, before quickly making his way down the ramp.

 

Funyon: The following contest is scheduled for one fall, and it is for the SWF Light Heavyweight Title! Introducing first, from Sacramento, California, weighing in at 210 pounds...Ced Ordoooooonez!!

 

Ced slaps the hands of fans while making his way towards the ring, wearing an excited grin on his face. When he gets about midway to the ring he stops and poses as black, blue and silver streamers are thrown from the crowd. After the streamers subside, he dashes and slides into the ring, posing once more for the crowd before warming up for the match. Eventually, the fanfare and the music die down, leaving Ced alone in the ring to prepare for his match.

 

Stevens: And welcome back to SWF Smarkdown! After witnessing an excellent opening match between Frost and Z, we’re ready to move onto our second contest of the evening, in which Ced Ordonez and El Luchadore Magnifico will compete for the Light Heavyweight Title!

 

Riley: The very title that should have rightly been stripped off of Magnifico’s waist! He took off two weeks just because he felt bad for Erek Taylor, but of course he had to take the Title with him. Mag’s just lucky that his match with Xero was canceled at Snake Eyes.

 

Stevens: That may be true, but he’s more than ready to compete now. And ELM will have to be on his A game tonight if he wants to be victorious, as he takes on a rookie and an extremely talented Cruiserweight in Ced Ordonez.

 

Ced gets a little time to stretch before a Mexican voice suddenly shouts out, “UNO! DOS! TRES! CUATRO!”, signaling Magnifico’s entrance. A burst of pyro explodes from each turnbuckle in time with each shouted word, only making things noisier as “Mission Trip to Mexico” hits the speakers and the begin cheering. El Luchadore Magnifico suddenly bursts out from behind the curtain, holding the Mexican Flag in one hand and the LHW Title in the other. Pausing on the stage, ELM slowly raises both arms in the air, grinning wildly as he is bathed in flashbulb light.

 

Funyon: And now, from Mexico City, Mexico, weighing in at 190 pounds, he is the SWF Light Heavyweight Champion...El Luchadoooooorre Magnificoooooo!!

 

Upon hearing his name, Magnifico breaks out of his pose and quickly makes his way down the ramp, slapping fans’ hands as he goes. Upon reaching the ring, ELM slides beneath the bottom rope, drops the flag and the title, pops to his feet, and hops onto the nearby second turnbuckle. Magnifico pumps his fist into the air several times, sucking a little more heat from the crowd as an amused Ced looks on. Finally, Magnifico hops off of the turnbuckle, picks up the Title and the Flag, and hands both to the ref. ELM turns towards Ced and casts him a glance, then begins to stretch as the music dies down. Seeing that everything is in place, the ref signals for the bell, officially beginning the match.

 

DING DING DING

 

Stevens: This should certainly make for an interesting contest; even though both men are Light Heavyweights, their styles are wholly different.

 

Riley: And in my opinion, both of them are ineffective! It takes a combined style, one that takes from many different forms of attack, to be successful.

 

Upon hearing the bell, Ced and Magnifico begin slowly circling the ring, coming closer and closer to each other as they circle. Suddenly, ELM turns towards Ced and reaches out for a lockup, but Ordonez suddenly swings out with his leg, nearly nailing Magnifico in the face with his foot! ELM suddenly backs off, seemingly surprised by Ced’s speed. A satisfied smile on his face, Ordonez approaches Magnifico and initiates the lockup himself. After struggling back and forth for a few seconds, Ced takes control, pushing Magnifico backwards into a corner. The ref orders Ced to back off, which he does, only to lash out with his leg a second later and smash ELM in the ribcage with a stiff kick! Magnifico is slightly stunned by the force of the blow, giving Ced the opportunity to grab the luchadore by the arm and whip him across the ring. Before ELM can even land in the opposite corner, Ced takes off, charging across the ring at top speed.

As Ordonez charges, Magnifco jumps onto the second turnbuckle, then turns towards Ced and leaps into the air, his arms outstretched for some kind of diving attack! However, Ordonez manages to hit the mat and roll beneath the soaring luchadore, popping to his feet and turning around to see ELM hit the mat and roll to his feet, not slowed down for a second. Ordonez quickly approaches Magnifico from behind, and when the luchadore finally turns around, Ced unloads with a brutal Knife-Edge Chop, driving his hand across ELM’s chest as the crowd WHOOO!s happily. Magnifico absorbs the Chop, then suddenly rears back and delivers one of his own, smacking Ced hard across the chest and drawing an even louder WHOOO! from the crowd! Ordonez grasps his chest in pain and turns away from Magnifico, only to spin back towards the luchadore and deliver the stiffest Chop yet, which rightfully draws the loudest WHOOO! and causes ELM to grasp his chest and back a few steps away from his opponent.

 

Stevens: Dueling chops! Ced and Magnifico are simply destroying each other with these blows!

 

Riley: Sacrilege! You Cruiserweights shall not desecrate the great Knife-Edge Chop!

 

With Magnifico still reeling from the last chop, Ced grabs ELM by the arm and whips him towards the far ropes. Magnifico bounces off of the ropes and rushes back towards Ordonez, and as he approaches, Ced whips out his leg once more, this time looking to connect with a Roundhouse Kick! However, Magnifico manages to duck beneath Ced's leg and keeps on running, heading towards the ropes behind Ordonez. ELM bounces off as Ced spins to face him, but before Magnifico can make any sort of attack, Ordonez suddenly hops into the air and kicks out his feet, slamming them into ELM's left knee with a Dropkick! His support kicked out from beneath him, Magnifico immediately falls face-first to the ground as Ced pops back to his feet. Magnifico tries to get back up on his own, but Ordonez grabs him by the hair and pulls Mag to his feet before he has the chance. Ced yanks on ELM's hair and pulls him over to the nearest corner, where he slams the luchadore's head into the top turnbuckle! Dazed from the shot to the skull, Magnifico collapses backwards into the corner, where he leans up against the turnbuckles as Ced carefully measures him up. Suddenly, Ordonez begins kicking away at Magnifico's left knee, wearing it down further and further until the luchadore collapses onto his right knee, clutching his left knee in pain. With ELM distracted, Ced lashes out with his foot, aiming it directly at Magnifico's skull with a brutal kick! However, Magnifico ducks beneath the leg just in time, then pops to his feet as the force of the kick spins Ced around and away from his opponent. From behind, ELM wraps his arms around Ced's head and then begins running forward, before jumping into the air and dragging Ordonez with him on the way down, slamming his face into the mat with a Bulldog! The audience cheers as Magnifico jumps back to his feet, while Ordonez begins pushing himself upwards, one hand on his face.

 

Stevens: It almost looked like Magnifico was playing dead there! He allowed Ced to think he'd worn ELM down with the kicks to lure him into going for the finishing blow.

 

Riley: Honestly, what makes you think some dirty, illiterate Mexican would come up with something like that? It was obviously just his natural speed, with a bit of luck.

 

 

As Ced struggles to his feet, ELM stands above him and stomps away at his back, greatly slowing down his progress. Right before Ordonez is about to stand, Magnifico grabs him by the arm and jerks him to his feet, then uses his grip to whip him towards the far ropes. Ced bounces off and rushes back towards ELM, and as he approaches, Magnifico leaps into the air, his legs outstretched for a Hurricanrana! However, Ced suddenly jumps to a halt right in front of Magnifico, and while the luchadore is still in mid-air, suddenly leaps into a Backflip-giri! Ordonez’s foot smashes directly into ELM’s chin, knocking him into the air for another second before he comes crashing to the ground. The fans exhibit a combination of wincing, booing, and cheering as Ced lands on his feet and quickly makes his way over to Magnifico, before falling onto his knees and making the cover. The ref slides into position and begins counting as Ced hooks the leg...

 

ONE...

 

TWO...No! Magnifico kicks out at two and a half. Undaunted, Ced rolls off of ELM, grabs him by the head, and begins pulling him to his feet.

 

Stevens: Amazing Backflip-Giri from Ordonez! Magnifico was completely taken by surprise, and couldn’t put up any sort of a defense.

 

Ced drags Magnifico to his feet, and using his grip, pulls the luchadore into a Side Headlock. Ordonez wrenches away on ELM’s neck for a few seconds, until Magnifico begins walking backwards, pulling Ced along with him. Magnifico backs him into the ropes, and uses the energy from the bouncy rebound to push Ordonez off of him and across the ring! As Ced heads towards the ropes, ELM runs up behind him and falls to the mat, which forces Ordonez to jump over the lying luchadore after bouncing over the ropes. Ced continues running towards the far ropes as Magnifico pops to his feet and prepares for Ced to come back his way. Ordonez bounces off of the ropes, but is immediately cut off as Magnifico sidesteps towards him and throws his foot into the air, slamming it into Ced’s chin with a Superkick! The force of the kick drives Ced backwards, and since he’s so close to the ropes, he goes tumbling right over the top, crashing awkwardly to the outside as the crowd cheers!

 

Riley: Now THAT is the kind of attack that works! Not allowing your opponent any time to block or dodge!

 

Stevens: You might be right, Riley. Ced had no chance to defend himself, much like Magnifico when Ced performed the Backflip-Giri.

 

As Ced writhes in pain in front of the entrance ramp, Magnifico heads over the nearest corner and quickly climbs the turnbuckles, drawing an anticipatory pop from the fans. ELM reaches the top and remains perched there, like some skinny Mexican thing that perches, as Ced slowly struggles to his feet, unaware of Magnifico’s current location. Finally, Ordonez stands and slowly turns around, coming face to face with Magnifico! The luchadore takes that as a cue to leap off of the top turnbuckle and fall towards Ced, his arms and legs outstretched for a Flying Cross Body! The flying maneuver makes perfect contact, as ELM crashes directly into Ced’s chest, sending both men to the ground in a heap! A loud pop rises from the crowd as Magnifico and Ordonez lay side-by side, their chests heaving up and down.

 

Stevens: Flying Cross-Body from the top to the outside! Magnifico took a huge risk in performing that move, but it seems to have paid off!

 

The ref starts counting both men out as Magnifico begins struggling to his feet, followed by Ced a few seconds later. Once ELM reaches his feet, he grabs Ced, who is still on his hands and knees, by the arm and slowly pulls him up to his feet. Using his grip, Magnifico attempts to whip Ordonez towards the ring post, but Ced reverses it, sending ELM running towards the post and causing him to run into it face-first! A collective wince comes from the crowd as Magnifico falls to the floor, his hand on his forehead. Ced takes a second to shake off the impact of the Flying Cross-Body, then rolls into the ring as the ref reaches four in his count.

 

Riley: Big mistake from Magnifico! Instead of getting back into the ring and continuing his attack from there, he got impatient and tried to take Ced out on the outside! Now, he could be counted out!

 

As the ref yells out, “FIVE!”, Magnifico begins pushing himself to his feet from the push-up position. As Ced slowly stands and leans against the corner to rest, ELM struggles to his hands and knees, then to one knee, then finally is able to stand by the time the ref counts eight. Magnifico climbs onto the apron the break the count just in time, but is nearly knocked back to the floor as Ced comes out of the corner and pops him in the mouth with a stiff punch! Magnifico manages to keep his balance on the apron, but his distraction allows Ordonez to lock ELM into a Suplex position! Wasting little time, Ordonez lifts Magnifico into the air, looking to Suplex him into the ring! However, ELM manages to twist out of Ced’s grasp and land on his feet right behind Ordonez! As soon as he lands, Magnifico wraps his arms around Ced’s waist and lifts him into he air, looking for a German Suplex! However, Ced throws his legs back beneath Magnifico’s arms as he’s being lifted, then dives forward, pulling Magnifico with him and rolling him up into a pin! The ref slides to the mat and begins his count as ELM struggles beneath Ced’s grasp...

 

ONE...

 

TWO...No! Magnifico suddenly grabs Ced around the head with his legs and pulls him down to the mat, then sits up himself, pinning Ordonez to the mat instead! The ref hastily restarts the count as the surprised crowd cheers...

 

ONE...

 

TWO...No! Ced breaks free of the pin, and both men quickly roll back to their feet. Magnifico reaches his feet first and uses the extra second to charge towards Ced, hoping to catch him by surprise. Unfortunately for him, Ordonez sees the luchadore coming and whips out his leg with blinding speed, catching ELM right in the jaw with a Roundhouse Kick! Magnifico limply falls backwards to the mat and is immediately covered by Ced. The ref slides into position and begins his count as Ordonez hooks the leg...

 

ONE...

 

TWO...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TH-Noo! Magnifico gets his shoulder up right before the three count, drawing a loud OOOH! and some cheers from the crowd.

 

Stevens: No! Both men get near falls with a quick reversal sequence, but Ced comes the closest of all after nailing Magnifico directly in the chin with that brutal Roundhouse!

 

Riley: He might be closer than you think, Stevens! Magnifico is vulnerable, and ready to be finished off!

 

After the attempted pin, Ced quickly stands back up, then grabs Magnifico by the hair and begins to slowly pull him to his feet. ELM twists and struggles beneath Ced’s grasp, but doesn’t seem to be able to escape it. Once Magnifico is standing, Ordonez turns towards him and drives his knee directly into the luchadore’s gut, immediately causing him to double over in pain! With this, Ced releases Magnifico and takes a few steps backwards, putting room between himself and his opponent. After waiting a second, Ordonez quickly steps forward and leaps into the air, sticking his leg out and flipping forward for the Silver Lining! Ced’s leg is mere inches from Magnifico’s neck when the luchadore suddenly jerks his head backwards and throws his arms out, catching Ordonez’s leg in mid-air! Gripping Ced’s leg and forcing him to hop on one foot, ELM quickly stands up, then uses his grip to spin Ced around, so that he’s facing away from the luchadore! Moving quickly, Magnifico turns his back to Ced, hooks both of his arms as if for a Backslide, then begins running towards the nearest corner, pulling Ced along with him!

 

Stevens: No! Ced went for the Silver Lining, but Magnifico countered it and is going for the Baja California Crusher!

 

The crowd pops in anticipation as Magnifico runs up the corner’s turnbuckles and flips backwards, slamming Ced’s head into the mat and landing the Baja California Crusher! ELM remains on his knees for a few seconds, exhausted, then grabs Ced by the shoulder, turns him onto his stomach, and covers Ordonez! The fans grow louder than ever as the ref slides into position to count...

 

ONE...

 

TWO...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREEE!! The ref pops to his feet and signals for the bell as Magnifico rolls off of Ced, victorious.

 

DING DING DING

 

Funyon: Your winner, and still, SWF Light Heavyweight Champion...El Luchadooooooorre Magnificooooooo!!

 

“Mission Trip to Mexico” hits the speakers once again as the ref dodges to the outside to retrieve the belt. Meanwhile, Magnifico slowly struggles to his feet, rubbing his chin in pain but still looking quite happy regardless. The ref rolls back into the ring with the belt in hand, pops to his feet, and hands the belt to Magnifico, who accepts it and allows the ref to raise his hand into the air.

 

Stevens: Ced put up a terrific fight, and almost finished Magnifico, but the luchadore still pulls out the victory and remains Light Heavyweight Champ for a little longer.

 

Riley: Well, you’re right about one thing. Magnifico will not be champ for much longer! Once he and Flesher get in the ring, it’s bye-bye Light Heavyweight Title!

 

Stevens: We’ll see. Stick around, folks, because we’ve got more great action coming up on SWF Smarkdown!

 

The last image shown before the show fades to a commercial is Magnifico, perched on the second turnbuckle and pumping the title into the air to the delight of the crowd...

[Guest BA_Baracus]

The locker room of Ash Ketchum. Instead of finding Pokemon collectibles here and there, we see a normal couch settled in front of a television set, which is hooked up to its very own Gamecube. Ash sits on the sofa, watching the SWF action from the comfort of his own room. Misty sits at the far corner, on the phone. She's either getting really fat or her pregnancy is coming along fine.

 

**Knock knock!**

 

"Come in! Watch me as I sit here on my ass while my girlfriend talks crap about me!" Ash yells out, getting Misty's attention at last. Misty grabs hold of a Pikachu doll nearby and hurls it at Ash, landing it on Ash's head. Nevertheless, the door opens and LDP enters. He is in casual attire, Hawaiian T-Shirt and Khaki shorts.

 

"Ash. Misty. I got your message. What's new?" LDP steps over to the couch and collapses, the aftermath of the tables match still getting at him. Gently caressing his back, LDP grabs the remote and switches the TV off.

 

"Um... I was watching that." Ash gives LDP a confused look, but soon after, gives up the short struggle and shrugs it off.

 

"You called me in. What's new?"

 

"What's new? Pete, I've been waiting for the last ten minutes. Where've you been, man?"

 

"Sorry, Ash. I came from Stubby's office. I was requesting a match against Tod deKindes for Storm."

 

Ash looks interested. "I saw you out there watching his match with Fallout. What gives?"

 

"I'm just looking out for new talent," Pete replies. "And I think this kid's got it. But I'm not fully convinced. I want to take him on myself first. But enough of that. What did you call me in here for?"

 

"There's supposed to be someone else," answers Ash. "I don't know where that fool is."

 

"It better b-"

 

***Knock knock!***

 

***KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!!***

 

"WE'VE GOT THE AREA SURROUNDED!!! PUT DOWN YOUR WEAPONS!!"

 

Ash and LDP jump to their feets, looking around in confusion as Misty hangs up the phone and stands up.

 

"What's wrong, Ash?! Who is that?!"

 

Ash looks startled, but manages to give a straight answer. "I... I don't know!!"

 

***KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!!**

 

"YOU'VE GOT TWO MINUTES TO EXIT THE ROOM. COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP!!"

 

Misty slaps Ash on the arm. "I told you not to moon the Post office guys!! Look what you did!!"

 

The door is kicked open, alarming everyone inside. But as time passes by, it is only Erek Taylor with a loudspeaker in his hands. Erek tosses the handy tool aside and surveys the room, his eyes stopped cold when he spots LDP.

 

"You bastard!" LDP makes a lunge towards Erek, but Ash quickly jumps in between and stops both of them from destroying each other, and the Gamecube.

 

"Come on you guys! I brought you both here so we can talk this out!"

 

"You brought me to talk to this kid?!" LDP makes another lunge towards Erek, who diverts his attention to Misty.

 

"Misty! So... did little Ash kick yet?" Misty smiles and shakes her head as Ash lets go of LDP, which proves to be a mistake. As soon as LDP is free, the Miami native launches himself forward and tackles Erek to the ground!!

 

"Gimme a break!" Ash yells as he pulls LDP off! Ash restrains LDP, shoving him down into a seat next to a conveniently close table. Atop the table is a bottle of wine and several glasses. "Now... calm down you two.... we're gonna have to talk." Ash points an opposite seat out to Erek, who obliges, taking his seat while never taking his eyes off Pete. Ash takes a seat in the middle and reaches for the wine bottle, pouring himself a glass.

 

"Okay..... let's all stop the fighting for awhile an-"

 

"Oh no... not another intervention... Whoop-dee-fucking-doo! I've been to enough of these." Erek rolls his eyes but Ash ignores the interruption and continues again. LDP's veins begin to show on his neck, and seeing that, Ash quickly pours a glass of wine for Pete.

 

"Erek, Pete, what's going on?"

 

Pete sips at his wine, giving Erek the opening to start.

 

"Pops there is attacking me. He's stalking me, giving me K-mart catalogs, and he's taking my monthly issue of Playboy! Oh yeah, he's also old and very ungrateful."

 

LDP drinks down the wine, using the great beverage to cool his temper. Ash motions for Erek to stop and for LDP to start. The Longdogger doesn't start, though, until he finishes his glass of wine.

 

"....much better.... now, Erek... YOU UNGRATEFUL INSOLENT LITTLE BRAT!!" LDP makes another lunge towards Erek and Ash is once again forced to hold LDP back.

 

"Let me go! Alright, I'll calm down! I'll calm down!!" Ash lets go and sits back down. LDP pours himself a second glass of wine before continuing.

 

"First of all, you're the one who's been dropping anvils on my head. I like K-Mart so I keep the catalogs, and I despise porn. Secondly, I'm only 34 and I don't like people lending me a hand when I never asked for it."

 

"Much better.... now....." Ash is once again interrupted by Erek Taylor.

 

"Wait, you don't like porn?!"

 

"AS I WAS SAYING! This is another case of the he said, she said."

 

"I better not be the 'she'." Erek slams his fist into the table, another interruption that takes Ash's patience to the limit. Ash bangs his head on the table a few times before starting up again.

 

"No more interruptions, please!! Now.... let's settle this all ou-"

 

Erek jumps up and slams his fist into the table. "You old washed up bastard! I never once ambushed you with an anvil! I'm too damn weak to carry an anvil!! Ha!!"

 

The response was slow, raising many eyebrows in the room. Erek sits back down and motions for Ash to continue. But at this rate, Ketchum has no more gas left in him and he places his head on the table and waves for the rants to continue.

 

"You old gorilla! I don't ambush people! That's not my style. I'd rather get in front of your face like I'm doing now and call you a good for nothing, banana eating, women hating, kid leaving, always taking sleeping pills, fishing is a sport, kinda guy! There!" The long insults draw many cheers from the crowds, and a deep breath from Taylor as he takes a seat. LDP stands up and leans closer, looking Erek directly in the eye.

 

"You don't ambush people.... my ass, you're always one for the sneak attacks. You're never a face to face fighter, like I am. If you didn't attack me, who the hell did?"

 

"Well that's kinda obvious isn't it. Over the past two months, you've abandoned your teenage kid, your old wife, you've met up with your former rival the Boston Stripper, and the guy who you threw in the Atlantic Ocean is in the federation! That's a pretty decent list there, if you ask me."

 

"Wasn't it the Boston Strangler?" Ash puts in, but is quickly hushed up by Erek.

 

"Don't change the subject Ash! Back to you, Pops, that's a big list right there. Why don't you go up to each and every one of them, offer them a banana, and ask them in your deepest voice if they went behind your back and threw pins at your head!"

 

"We're making progre-" Ash is once again interrupted.

 

"Shut up Ash. I'm not done yet..... wait, yeah, I'm done...."

 

LDP stands up and begins pondering....

 

"So it wasn't you?"

 

"Hell no. I'd rather run you over with my car. Why drop a nail?"

 

"But if you weren't attacking me... and I wasn't attacking you..."

 

"Whoa whoa whoa.... what are you heading at?"

 

"I'm thinking there's a third person in this. One who's trying to turn us against each other."

 

Erek raises an eyebrow. "Okay Einstein, why don't you try to figure out who?"

 

Ash finally gathers the courage and steps up. "You're not attacking him, he's not attacking you. Now let's shake and go Sherlock Holmes on this third person."

 

"Sherlock your own ass. Being the so nice and so forgiving guy that I am, I accept your apology Pete. I take back all the insults I gave you. Except for the 'Pops' one. Hehehehhe."

 

Pete shakes his head and mutters out a faint 'sorry', which is at least heard by the thousands and millions. Pete heads for the couch and sits down, his mind now racing at a million miles a second to figure out who's been the mysterious attacker. Misty takes a seat but her eyes light up in an instant and her hands begin feeling her chest.

 

"Okay.... who took my bra?"

[Guest BA_Baracus]

The show returns and multiple fireworks explode around the arena, rafters and entrance ramp. The lights go out...

 

...3...

 

 

...2...

 

 

...1...

 

"THIS IS MAH HOUSE!!!"

 

The obviously pre recorded voice of JD echoes through the arena. Rammstein's "Du Haste" plays over the speakers without the lyrics... The heavy beats thunder 360 degrees all over the arena... JD steps through the curtains, his head down. He walks to the top of the ramp, slowly raising his head. He briefly scans the crowd and makes room for a title for his waist. He lowers his head again, although a smile without good intentions is now plastered on his face.

 

Funyon: “The following contest is scheduled for one fall! It is for the S-W-F Hardcore Championship! Introducing first, the challenger! He hails from Vancouver BC! He stands at Six feet Four inches and weighs in at 250 pounds! He is a member of Creative Control! JAMIE ‘JAY DAWG’ DRAZON!!!”

 

Upon his name being mentioned, boos explode and JD enters the ring. He places his hands on his thighs, and slowly cricks his neck. Then steps back into the corner, and rests on the turnbuckles in wait for the hardcore champ. The lights cut out once again and a piano piece blasts over the speakers. The crowd begins to cheer a little, pyro flowing from the top of the SmarkTron into showers of gold.)

 

Stevens: “It is time for our hardcore title match! This match is seemingly Creative Control’s way of abusing their power!”

 

A huge pyro blast kicks up from the front of the stage as Billy Crawford’s “Pokemon Theme” blasts through the speakers. The pyro in front of the entrance then stops, and a spotlight shines down on Ash Ketchum valet Misty. Turning around from his Jericho-like pose, Misty on his right side, he spins, making eye contact with his JD as Misty points, whispering to Ash. The pokefreak nods, then smiles and waves to his opponent. JD replies with a middle finger, which has Ash look offended. Ketchum and Misty make their way down to the ring, slapping hands with some of the fans.

 

Funyon: “And his opponent! Accompanied by the beautiful Misty! He hails from Pallet Town in Tampa, Florida! He stands at Six feet Five inches and tips the scales at 258 pounds! THE S-W-F Hardcore Champion… ASH KETCHUM!!!!!”

 

Ash climbs up onto the apron, throws his belt hardcore title inside. He opens the ropes to let Misty in, then climbs in himself. Ash climbs the turnbuckle closest to the crowd and takes off his shirt, whipping it into the first two or three rows of the crowd, giving a lucky fan a souvenir to take home to burn. Ash hops off the turnbuckle and stares at Jay Dawg.

 

Riley: “This match is hardcore only for Jay Dawg! WHOO!!”

 

Jay Dawg grabs the title belt, picking it up and placing it on his shoulder. His emotions down, he stares at Ash, who shows signs of frustration, and rubs the title belt. Ash grabs the ref, pulling him to the side, and lets him know his lack of appreciation. The crowd begins to boo as JD poses with the belt, he snarls in response, and tosses the belt at Ash. Although he doesn’t see it coming, a sixth sense in Ash reacts, and he catches the belt. He smiles and holds the belt high up in the air, and the crowd applauds in approval.

 

Stevens: “Jay Dawg looks to be playing some mind games! He has one of the largest advantages out there!”

 

Riley: “Ash is toast! That bitch both broke my announce table and my X-Box! He is so going to pay for that! I personally talked to Jay Dawg earlier today! He said for One, Ash has been a disgrace to the hardcore division, so JD is going to show him a new meaning to the word hardcore… and believe me, it won’t involve toys, only instruments of destruction! Two, he hates anyone who likes or wants to be like Edwin MacPhisto and will make an example! And Three, he is going to debut a new finisher that will annihilate Ash!”

 

Stevens: “That’s quite a tall order!”

 

Ash passes the title to the ref, and shakes his shoulders a bit. JD stares coldly straight ahead, finally stepping forward. Ash does the same, the fanbase clearly on his side though as stomps and claps are heard round the arena. The ref steps in between the two, double checking to see if they are ready, then gives the nod to the bellman.

 

*DING* *DING* *DING*

 

Ash holds his arms out, and JD latches together, starting the match off with a grapple. The journey of who is the stronger man begins, as they shove each other back and forth. Although Ash is an inch taller, his lankier build is costing him, as JD leverages his leg power into it, pushing Ash with a steady stride. Acceleration by JD, directing Ash to the corner, but the pokemaster pivots, using the momentum to throw JD into the corner!

 

Stevens: “And Ash shows that speed is just as useful as strength!”

 

The ref calls for a clean break, Ash obliges, and JD punches him square in the nose!

 

Stevens: “And a cheap shot by Jay Dawg!”

 

Riley: “Whoo! You gotta love the fact that JD doesn’t have to follow the rules!”

 

Knocking his adversary’s vision to the mode of cross-eyed, JD pulls his right arm back, and throwing all of his body into it, cracks Ash in the jaw with a roundhouse punch! Ash drops to one knee, surprised at the unbelievable pain a closed fist causes. His vision still blurry, Ash gets to his feet, but is clearly in a bad state of motion. JD smiles, as he brings his hands out, forming a diamond, he measures Ash up. A moment later, Ash goes from blurry to clarity, only to notice Jay Dawg’s foot heading straight for his groin region. DING!! The pokeholics, the Dawgmeisters, and even the people that hate both can’t help but laugh, as Ash’s eyes bulge inches out of his head. Misty places her hands over her mouth, obviously fearing the worst for her man.

 

Stevens: “Ow! Jay Dawg is taking full advantage!”

 

Riley: “Dear lord! He just couldn’t wait!”

 

The eyes form back into his skull, but Ash is now ‘Chinese-eyed’ as JD grabs him by the spiked hair, pulls him into a grapple, and tosses him over the hip. JD steps back to the legs, and pulls one in. JD spins around the leg with a toehold, but before he can wrench, a kick to the face forces him to take a step back and drop the leg. Still sore in the pokepebbles, Ash gets to his feet. The hardcore champ thrusts at JD, but is quickly tripped to the mat with a drop toehold. Before Ash knows what hit him, JD rolls over, grabs him by the arm, and leans on the shoulder with a fujiwara armbar.

 

Riley: “Jay Dawg is just outclassing Ketchum!”

 

Stevens: “Jay Dawg is showing off his wrestling skills! But the advantage of the no DQ has already come into affect!”

 

Riley: “It’s like I always say! Why waste the time with honor, when you can cheat… it’s so much faster!”

 

A small “Let’s go Ash!” chant kicks up, as JD applies some torque in the submission. Ketchum starts to slap his hand on the mat, gaining a rally from the crowd and begins to push up. JD lifts his arm up, and drives the elbow into Ash’s shoulder. The momentary blast keeps the pokemaster down, as JD gets to his feet, brushing himself off. Jay Dawg walks to the ropes, he sticks his body in between and calls for a chair. The ring assistant, sitting in a chair, continues sitting, looking confused at JD.

 

Stevens: “If it’s not enough that Jay Dawg can’t be disqualified, he wants people to bring him weapons to beat Ash with!”

 

Ash is now at his feet, he smiles toward JD. The youngster runs to the ropes, leaping to the second one, landing beside JD. Just as JD notices his opponent beside him, he’s sprung off, grabbing him by the waist, and pulling him to the mat with a sunset flip!

 

One…

 

T…

 

JD clips his legs into Ketchum’s ears, breaking the count. The men roll backward to their feet, JD throws a right hand, but Ash is a hair quicker, kicking JD in the stomach. Ash grabs Jay Dawg, applying a facelock; he spins him full throttle, but is suddenly keeps spinning. Back into his original position, JD powers out of the facelock, and rotates behind Ketchum with a waistlock. JD lifts, but Ash don’t budge, Ash breaks the waistlock and ducks his head under Jay Dawg’s arm, while cradling the leg. He lifts JD up, but the Dawgmeister slips down to his feet. He pulls Ash into a vertical suplex setup, lifts up, but it’s Ash who slips away this time, landing behind JD and applying a waistlock of his own. Instead of lifting, Ash pushes JD forward, heading for the ropes, he pushes JD into them but the Dawg hooks his elbows, while Ash bounces off!

 

Stevens: “Some awesome wrestling, and it all started after JD tried to go hardcore!”

 

Riley: “I hate to say this, but that might be a disadvantage! Jay Dawg has his mind on making this violent!”

 

Ash rolls back to his feet, as JD stares from the ropes. He rushes at the Cerebral Prankster, throwing out a clothesline, Ash ducks. JD turns around halfway, but can see Ash coming off the ropes. He throws out his elbow, but Ash ducks that as well. Ash ricochets off the ropes, and quickly leaps in the air, clobbering Jay Dawg with a flying forearm! JD staggers back into the ropes, but bounces off with a vengeance! Ketchum is ready, catching JD, lifting, spinning, and smashing him into the mat with a bone shattering powerslam! On the outside, Misty is cheering in approval.

 

One…

 

 

Two…

 

But Jay Dawg gets the shoulder up! Ash lifts his head up, keeping optimistic, well aware that it’s just getting started.

 

Stevens: “Ash with the upperhand!”

 

Ash pulls JD to his feet, and into a double headscissors. He hooks both of the arms, but JD breaks it, pushing Ash away but doubles over to catch his breath. Ash shows his aggressiveness, and locks on a front facelock, spins JD, and drives him into the mat with a neckbreaker! The crowd explodes as Ash hits the move and rolls over for the pin.

 

One…

 

 

 

Stevens: “Ash misses the Blastoise Backcracker but strikes back with a neckbreaker when JD let his guard down!”

 

 

 

Two...

 

JD gets his shoulder up with time to spare!

 

Riley: “The resilient Jay Dawg, always ready to battle long!”

 

The crowd picks up, shouting out “Ash! Ash! Ash!” as he stands on his knees, smiling. He gets to his feet and points to the turnbuckles… the audience gets louder, ready to see him fly. Ash springs to the top rope, and holds his arms up. JD starts to recover inside the ring, slowly starting the distance to his feet. Nearly ten seconds later, JD is finally up and in position for Ash to leap off the top rope with a Crossbody Block! The weight of Ketchum’s body takes him over, but the momentum takes JD over and he is now pinning Ash!

 

One…

 

 

Two...

 

Ash kicks out and springs to his feet. He rushes at JD but is locked into a waistlock! With speed and power, JD throws Ash over his head and into the mat with a German suplex! Keeping the waistlock intact, JD backs up to the ropes, tightening his grip, he looks back to see the announce duo.

 

Stevens: “Jay Dawg is by the ropes! You can’t suplex him into the ropes you dum…. Oh shit!”

 

Riley: “Can’t go through them! Gotta go over them!”

 

JD smiles, letting the crowd be fully aware of what he plans to do. The crowd begins to cheer though, as Ash pops JD with an elbow. A second elbow follows, but JD keeps a hold of the waistlock. Ash throws a third elbow back, but JD ducks, keeping the waistlock, he powers Ash up and dumps him over the top rope with a belly-to-back suplex! The crowd gasps in fear as Ash lands shoulder first on the ring apron, flipping over to the outside, and lays sprawled out on the mat outside.

 

Stevens: “Whoa! Jay Dawg just dumped Ash with that suplex!”

 

Riley: “He dropped him right on his head. Whoo!”

 

Misty rushes toward Ash, kneeling beside him with looks of concern. JD steps outside, a grin of mischief across him. He stands behind Misty, ready for evil. He reaches down, grabs her by the back of the shorts, and slaps her in the ass! The crowd boos as Misty’s eyes light up with rage. She turns around, and swings with a hard right hook! But JD catches her hand, pulls her inward, and clocks her with a headbutt!

 

Stevens: “That was low! JD not only sexually harassed her, he just headbutted her!”

 

Riley: “Think how mad Ash will be! This is gold! The mind games are priceless!”

 

Looking down, the mischief now switches to sadistic. JD walks to the table, looking at the ringcrew member who wouldn’t give him a chair earlier. The hired help looks like he just shit his pants as JD grabs him and throws him out of the chair. He folds the chair up and looks down at Ash. The hardcore champ looks over, not aware of Jay Dawg, but sees his valet laying beside him… and it’s like a nerd losing his X-Box… he freaks da fuck out! “ARRRRGHH!!! JAY DAWG!!!” he shouts out in roar of rage, standing up ready to kill. CRACK!! Is brained in the head with a steel chair!

 

Stevens: “Ash was angered at what Jay Dawg did, but the disadvantage is starting to show!”

 

JD tosses the chair down and drops to his knees, looking underneath the ring apron. He pulls out a broken X-Box. JD holds the gaming console with a puzzled look. He tosses the X-Box aside and reaches under the apron, and pulls out the Pokemania Fist Helmet! Again, a puzzled expression fills the face of Jay Dawg, but this time, he throws the weapon into the ring. JD reaches under again, and pulls out volleyball shaped object, painted red and white.

 

Stevens: “Ha ha ha! Ash has filled the ring with weapons that JD considers useless! Look at that, he’s got a pokeball in his hands!”

 

Riley: “Bah! He still has the chair!”

 

Again, JD throws the weapon into the ring. Figuring one last time something will come out, he reaches under, and is successful, pulling out a table! He picks up the table and slides it inside the ring. Ash suddenly pops to his feet, sneaking behind JD, he leaps into the air and drop-kicks him in the back of the head! JD stumbles forward, landing on the nearby steps. He turns around to see a raging pokemaniac clothesline him over the steps!

 

Stevens: “Ash fights back!”

 

Riley: “Bah! Jay Dawg was once again looking to hurt him!”

 

Ash jumps to the top of the steps and leaps off with a double axe handle. JD throws his forearm into Ash’s ribs. Ash drops to his knees as JD rolls into the ring. JD reaches over the top rope and grabs the top of Ash’s spikes, pulling him onto the ring apron. Ash suddenly breaks the grip and grabs the back of Jay Dawg’s ponytail and drops back down to the outside, hanging him over the top rope. His hair released, JD grabs his throat as Ash returns to the ring apron. He sprints to the corner and leaps to the top rope, getting a crowd reaction. He holds an arm out, and encourages a reaction as he leaps off the top rope, his feet outward and clobbers Jay Dawg with the Rocket Launch missile dropkick! JD crashes to the mat with Ash leaping on top of him for the cover.

 

ONE…

 

 

 

TWO…

 

 

The fans gasp as Ash looks like he has it…

 

 

THRE…NO!!!

 

Jay Dawg gets a shoulder up! The audience applauds the close fall and really start to get behind Ash.

 

Stevens: “Ash with the closest fall of the match right there!”

 

Riley: “Listen to these idiot fans applaud him!”

 

“LET’S GO ASH!!” is almost thundering around the arena as Ash gets to his feet, and begins to stomp around, rallying the crowd even more. JD starts to get to his feet, as Ash continues to rally, waiting for the perfect moment. JD gets to his feet, looking sick in the stomach, and Ash ducks down, picking him up onto his shoulders. On the outside, Misty is at her feet, a bruise is evident on her forehead. She looks over at Ash and smiles, clapping along with the crowd. Ash spins JD forward so they are belly-to-belly, and drops him headfirst into the mat with the Mew Driver! The crowd roars out as Ash rests on his ass, catching his breath as JD lies in front of him. He finally rolls over and makes the cover, hooking the leg tight.

 

ONE…

 

 

 

TWO…

 

 

 

THREE…

 

NO!! Jay Dawg gets a shoulder up and Ash can’t believe it! On the outside, Misty can be seen moaning ‘Oh so close!’

 

Riley: “That cock-sucking little wetzle wart almost got the win!”

 

Stevens: “Hmm… that sounds like a guy who got fired from McDonalds would say that.”

 

Ash pulls JD to his feet, but gets a sharp knee to the gut! JD pulls Ash into a bearhug, and throws him with a belly-to-belly overhead suplex! JD gets to his feet, smiling at what is around him. He instantly directs his attention to the table, kicking the poke fist helmet out of the way. He grabs the table and unfolds the legs, standing it up in the center of the ring. Suddenly, Misty hops onto the ring apron, making a ruckus as she shouts at Jay Dawg. She is successful at getting his attention, as he slowly turns to face her, the mischievous grin returning. He slowly walks to Misty, a grin from ear to ear on his face. He grabs her by the back of the hair, looks back at Ash who is at his feet. For the second time tonight, his sadistic smile overtakes his mischief smile. He sticks his tongue out toward Misty, swirling it around, but he slams Misty’s neck into the top rope instead, hanging her then letting her collapse to the outside!

 

Stevens: “Once again! Jay Dawg assaults Misty!”

 

Now have you ever seen a hardcore masturbator get his porno magazines taken away? That about explains the look on Ash’s face, the rage is boiling. “ARRRRRRRGHHH!!!” he shouts out, and this time, Jay Dawg has no chair to clock him in the head. Ash gets close to JD, hammering him with right hands. Each blow knocks JD back a step, until he is in the ropes. Ash pulls JD off the ropes, Irish whip, no, he pulls Jay Dawg back and flattens him with a reverse elbow! Jay Dawg is back on his feet, and Ash is right on top, hitting him with some more right hands, knocking JD into the corner. JD suddenly explodes out of the corner with a clothesline. Ash ducks with ease! JD turns around to catch a boot into the gut, doubled over. Ash pulls him into a standing headscissors, underhooks the arms, lifts up, pivots him, and crushes him over the knee with a Blastoise Backcracker! Ash pulls JD inward and hooks the leg.

 

ONE…

 

 

 

TWO…

 

 

 

THREE…

 

NO!!

 

Stevens: “Jay Dawg is now just merely surviving!”

 

Ash holds his arms up, calling the crowd into it as he backs up to the ropes. JD starts to return to his feet, grabbing his ribcage while doubled over. Ash dashes forward, leaps into the air, kicking his leg high and smashes the back of his heel into Jay Dawg’s head with the Air Ketchum Deux! JD drops onto his face, and Ash rolls him over, once again hooking the leg, beads of sweat are now soaking the mat.

 

ONE…

 

 

TWO…

 

 

THREE…

 

NO!!! Once again, Jay Dawg gets his shoulder up, and Ash starts to yank his own hair out! He suddenly looks over, spotting the Pokemania Fist Helmet of Total Annihilation! He ponders it for a second, then suddenly spots Misty out of the corner of his eye, in pain. Emotion overtakes rationalization as he grabs the helmet, putting it in. The table setup inside the ring, is the only thing between him and Jay Dawg.

 

Stevens: “ASH!! NO!!! You’ll get disqualified!”

 

Riley: “Ha! He doesn’t care! Jay Dawg has just psyche him out into giving him the title!”

 

JD gets to his feet, completely woozy, and Ash propels forward. He leaps onto the table, and leaps off, diving at Jay Dawg headfirst with the pokehelmet going for the knockout! Jay Dawg suddenly leaps into the air, shoots his leg out, and drives his foot into Ash’s helmet with the Sweet Tooth Loosening! Ash falls to the mat, a dent in his helmet, and he lies barely conscious. JD drops to his knees, the sweat rolling off his body, although he smiles as he has just K-Oed a pokeholic. Lateral press and the hook of the leg.

 

ONE…

 

 

 

TWO…

 

 

 

THREE…NOOOOOOOO!!!

 

Ash gets his shoulder up and Jay Dawg can’t believe it! Ash lies back down on the mat as the crowd goes wild.

 

Stevens: “He kicked out! Little does Jay Dawg know, he just saved Ash the title!”

 

Riley: “Bah! Look at how dead he is!”

 

JD slices his thumb across his throat, the end is near in his mind. He peals Ash off the mat and throws him on top of the table. He heads to the turnbuckle, and Misty once again catches his attention.

 

Riley: “God damn it! Doesn’t that little cunt know when to quit!?”

 

Stevens: “She’s sacrificing herself to buy Ash some time and motivation! That is loyalty if I ever seen it!”

 

JD shakes his head and walks over to Misty. Suddenly, the lightning fast valet hops to the top turnbuckle and leaps at Jay Dawg, wrapping her legs around his head. She spins round and heads down… but comes right back up again as JD regains his balance and turns to the ropes, he falls over halfway and Misty is powerbombed to the outside mat!

 

Stevens: “OH NO!!! Get the EMT’s out here! Jay Dawg you sick bastard!”

 

Riley: “That bitch wouldn’t stay down! But she will now! Ha!”

 

JD turns back to Ash, who is only halfway to competence. JD pulls him off the table and into a standing headscissors. Ash suddenly breaths some life like a sixth sense or something, he pulls Jay Dawg’s legs out, then flips on top of him with a cover!

 

ONE…

 

 

 

TWO…

Stevens: “Ash with the upset!”

 

 

THRE… JD wraps his legs into Ash’s shoulders, pinning him down for the cover.

 

ONE…

 

 

 

TWO…

 

 

Stevens: “Jay Dawg is looking to steal it!”

 

 

THRE… Ash powers back up with his back completely on top of Jay Dawg and his legs over the head!

 

ONE…

 

 

 

TWO…

 

 

 

THRE… JD bridges upward! He spins Ash around into a standing headscissors, but then continues to spin so they are back-to-back! Ash instantly spins back around, and pulls Jay Dawg into a half nelson! Ash reaches his arm around Jay Dawg for the Tazzmission, but Jay Dawg breaks free quickly! JD sneaks around so he is back-to-back but Ash locks in a backslide, grabbing Jay Dawg by the neck, and drops him to the mat with the C4!

 

Stevens: “It’s over! It’s over!”

 

Both men lying on their backs for many seconds, Ash finally reaches over and drapes his arm on Jay Dawg. The crowds all get on their feet.

 

ONE…

 

 

 

TWO…

 

 

 

 

 

THREE…NO!!!

 

Jay Dawg gets his shoulder up half an inch off the ground! Ash looks up, pokehelmet and all, but collapses in exhaustion. However, suddenly a second wind comes! Ash rolls over to his back, and springs to his feet. The crowd goes apeshit as he does this! He looks down at Jay Dawg and yanks him off the mat. He pulls the table inward and places Jay Dawg in front of it. Finally, he turns to the ropes, and Jay Dawg drops to his knees. The pokeball that he threw into the ring is by the table, and JD reaches for it! Ash climbs the turnbuckles, he turns around to face Jay Dawg but receives quite a shock! JD throws the pokeball, and it crashes into Ash’s kneecaps, shattering with goo falling all over his knees! Ash’s legs collapse, and he falls groin first on the top turnbuckle! JD smiles as the goo is all over Ash, and reaches into his pocket! JD pulls out a pack of matches and the arena suddenly drops to dead silence. He pulls out a match, strikes it, and a flame may be so tiny, but the whole arena can see it. JD throws it forward, and it lands on Ketchum’s red camouflaged trousers! The flame ignites, and Ash’s pants and shirt are on fire! JD climbs the turnbuckle; the flame is huge as JD pulls Ash into an armbar. He lifts him up like a Mexican Armdrag, but suddenly grabs Ash’s head, and falls back off the turnbuckle, driving the flaming Ash through the table with a Modified Brainbuster!

 

Riley: “Ha! That must be the move Jay Dawg was talking about! He had that pokeball planned! Ashes, Ashes they all fall down!”

 

That table has sparks fly through it, as JD rolls backward, lying on top of the smoking Ash with the cover.

 

ONE…

 

 

Stevens: “This has got to be all!

 

JD hooks the leg, and rolls his eyes back into his head.

 

TWO…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!!!!

 

JD pushes off of Ash and holds his arms up in the air. The ref quickly raises his hand as Du Haste hits the speakers.

 

Funyon: “The winner of this match and new hardcore champion! JAY DAWG!!!”

 

The ref hands the belt to JD. When receiving it, he collapses. He holds the belt tightly as it remains on his waist. EMT’s are called down, one with a fire extinguisher, and one looking at Misty.

 

Stevens: “What a battle! Jay Dawg used every trick in the book to win the title! But Ash pulled out one hell of a match and took the fight to Jay Dawg!”

 

Riley: “Look at him! There’s nothing left but Ash! Ha! Jay Dawg is a champion of all champs!”

 

JD holds the title up with his one arm as he remains lying, and the camera switches to commercial.

[Guest BA_Baracus]

SWF Smarkdown returns from a commercial for Ziploc Bags featuring the Boston Strangler ("Our patented yellow and blue makes green seal ensures that your victim will suffocate cleanly") and pans the Baltimore Arena. The fans burst into their standard "GRAND SLAM! GRAND SLAM!" chant as the US Title graphic appears on the SmarkTron, with a photo of Tom Flesher preening on the right side and TNT looking generally pissed off on the left. Riley giggles to himself. Grand Slam, confused, asks him, "What's so funny?"

 

"Flesher's fly is down!" Riley bursts into peals of laughter.

 

"How do you know? He's wearing the belt. You can't even see it!"

 

"Oh, sure, Mr. Know-It-All. Have to ruin ALL my fun."

 

Stevens clears his throat and segues very seamfully into, "Up next we've got a very exciting match to determine the US Champion. We've got number-one contender Taylor Nicholas Thompson taking on 'The Superior One' Tom Flesher, who's been on quite a roll lately. After defeating Jay Dawg and Chris Raynor in a triple threat match at Snake Eyes, Flesher spent the last week starting trouble in the Carnie locker room and was rewarded with a shot down the road at the Light Heavyweight Title, which was determined earlier tonight!"

 

"Say, Mark, who WON-"

 

"Shut UP, Bobby. All in all, I'd say Flesher's in over his head. He's just a rookie and he's got himself mired in feuds for two of the SWF's hottest belts. I'd be worried about burnout."

 

"Also, he jobbed to a tequila bottle this weekend."

 

"What does that have to do with anything?"

 

"Nothing," says Riley." I just wanted to point out that he's not the most responsible person in the world."

 

"Says the man whose wife would dress him, if he was responsible enough to date one long enough to get married. Let's go to the ring."

 

Funyon announces, "Ladies and Gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall and it is for the SWF United States Championship!" With that, a few "Oi!"s ring out through the arena, and AC/DC's "TNT" begins to play. The curtain is brushed aside as the imposing Taylor Nicholas Thompson walks through the entrance as the arena is bathed in red and orange strobelights. The letters "T-N-T" flash across the SmarkTron, and as the phrase "Watch me explooooooooooooooode!" echoes through the arena, TNT stalks down the ramp to a chorus of boos. When he gets to the ring, Thompson jumps onto the apron, focused on the ring, and steps through the ropes. He walks around to each corner and hits it, setting off an explosion at each post in turn.

 

"The challenger, from Anaheim, California... a 267-pound powderkeg representing the Magnificent Seven, this is Taylor Nicholas Thompson, otherise known as T... N... T!!!!!!!!!!!!"

 

The crowd boos TNT loudly as he stretches lightly and generally gets warmed up in the ring. Suddenly, the lights go down, and the fanfare of "Tell All The People" starts to ring out through the arena. A mixed reaction, lots of boos but a few cheers as well, awaits the US Champion as his video plays on the SmarkTron. After waiting a moment to tease the crowd, Tom Flesher walks through the curtain and falls into his arms-out, eyes-up "Jesus Pose" to gauge the crowd's reaction. The crowd overwhelmingly boos him, which he answers with an exuberant royal wave. After quickly patting the US Title belt, Flesher strides to the ring looking carefree and happy. He enters the ring and takes his spot in the center, then hands a small index card to Funyon.

 

Funyon reads the card, raises his eyebrow and begins announcing. "And his opponent, from Buffalo, New York, and weighing in at 213 pounds... the SWF US Champion, and the man you'd be proud to bring home to mom, the... jesus, this is horrible. The object of your envy, your every heart's desire, the NEXT SWF Light Heavyweight Champion, bow down for the Superior One, Tom Flesher!"

 

With that, Flesher falls into a double biceps pose, and all but his most dedicated cult fans are booing loudly. He unfastens his US Title, kisses it quickly, and then hands it off to referee Sexton Hardcastle, who looks scared out of his wits. Sexton holds it aloft, then hands it off to Funyon and calls for the bell.

 

 

DING DING DING!!!!!

 

 

TNT comes to center-ring, and the two combatants square off. Flesher, grinning, struts up to TNT and crisply slaps him across the face. TNT grabs his cheek and responds with a stiff right hand, sending Flesher reeling backwards. "Ouch! A little more than Tom was expecting," notes Stevens as Flesher comes back and shakes it off quickly. "That's normally more unnerving, but it looks like TNT was expecting it." Flesher drops into an amateur-style stance and starts to angle off to the side. Quickly, he shoots down and attempts a double-leg takedown, slamming hard into TNT's bulky abdomen. The explosive rookie, unfazed, simple nails Flesher with a solid forearm strike, sending him reeling to the mat. Flesher hits the canvas hard, and TNT backs off looking like a polar bear ready to eat a baby seal.

 

"Flesher's forgetting that TNT's also a talented technical wrestler," says Bobby Riley. "And also much, much bigger than him."

 

TNT covers Flesher and gets

 

ONE

 

 

but no more, as Tom kicks out and rolls away. Clearly flustered, he bails to the floor and lets Hardcastle begin a ten-count.

 

He wanders around as Sexton counts, lacking any semblance of rhythm. Flesher cracks his 18-inch neck from side to side, tucks his Boilermaker t-shirt back in, and then slides under the bottom rope around "Sixen!" TNT, still looking like a mountain lion waiting to pounce, lets Flesher back in and allows him to regain his balance before he attacks.

 

Once again, Flesher steps in and angles around TNT. This time, though, he's much more careful. He measures TNT up and, very quickly, shoots around and grabs Thompson's leg. He attempts to complete the single-leg takedown, only to have TNT stop him in his tracks with a vicious clothesline! He hooks Flesher's head and slams him into the mat, completely shattering any hopes Flesher might have had of winning on points. "What a clothesline!" Bobby is, as always, impressed. TNT covers Flesher for

 

ONE

 

 

but again, Flesher kicks out quickly and rolls away. TNT follows him and boots him in the ribs, then grabs him by the wrist and yanks him back to his feet. In one crisp motion, Taylor Thompson whips his much, much smaller adversary into the corner, then follows him in and nails him with a ring-shaking lariat! Tom crumbles into a heap in the corner as TNT kicks him in the chest, then turns around and waits patiently in the center of the ring for Flesher to come back for more.

 

"Taylor Nicholas Thompson is ruthless!" Mark Stevens, usually reserved, is stunned by the challenger's sheer power. "I'm just... stunned! What sheer power from the challenger!"

 

Told ya.

 

Flesher steps out of the corner wobbling, still unsteady from TNT's clothesline. TNT is more than happy to remind him about it, running at him and nailing him with another lariat! Flesher actually flips over before hitting the mat with a resounding THUD. TNT yanks him back up, then lifts him even further by wrapping his hand around Flesher's neck and swinging him into the air. The explosive member of the Magnificent Seven stalls for a few seconds, holding his opponent in the air, then pendulates down to the canvas and hammers Flesher into the mat with a picture-perfect chokeslam.

 

"OH my GOD," screams Bobby. "We're going to get sued!"

 

"What are you talking about?" Stevens, more concerned with the match, has no idea what's going through Riley's head.

 

"Warner Brothers is going to sue our sorry asses!"

 

"WHY?"

 

"Flesher just did an exact copy of Wile E. Coyote's 'leave an imprint of your body' bit! I'm surprised he didn't go right through the mat!"

 

"Oh, I see," says Stevens sarcastically. "Better start setting the paycheck aside, eh, Booby?"

 

Riley pauses a moment. "Wait a second, you get a paycheck?"

 

"What, did you think I just did this to watch the sweaty guys in tights?"

 

"Well... yeah, Mark... I mean... I asked about salary, and that's what NTD told me."

 

Flesher sits back up, more out of reflex than anything else. TNT looks at him thoughtfully, seeming to debate whether to cover him on the off-chance he can put the match away or whether to just continue the slaughtering. Flesher makes the decision for him by getting back to his feet and locking up, lacking the mental faculties to do anything more complicated. TNT backs off, ready to throw another forearm, but Tom reacts quickly and throws a stiff palm strike that nails him flush on the jaw and sends him reeling backwards, momentarily knocked senseless. Unable to capitalize, though, Flesher just stands and shakes his head to clear the haze.

 

"Tom Flesher is reacting only on reflex at this point," notes Stevens. "This early in the match, that can't be a good thing. Taylor Thompson has clearly asserted his dominance."

 

"It's only a matter of time," says Riley. "Flesher's a weak champion anyway."

 

"Where did that come from?"

 

"When's he proven to be a strong champ?"

 

"Oh, maybe putting Annie Eclectic out of action by destroying her face?"

 

"Bah. Never liked her anyway."

 

"Pinning Chris Raynor at Snake Eyes to start his second reign?"

 

"Jay Dawg's had three."

 

Frustrated, Steven mutters, "What does he have to do to prove it?"

 

"He's got to beat the best US Champion ever, Jamie 'Jay Dawg' Drazon."

 

"He already beat Jay Dawg!"

 

"Oh, sure. Next you're going to tell me he's feuding with El Luchadore Magnifico."

 

Flesher takes a step forward to throw another palm strike, but TNT catches him with a weak forearm that takes advantage of his momentary step off balance and knocks him to the ground. The Superior One starts to push himself back up off the mat, but Thompson drops down and nails him with an elbow smash that plasters him down once more. Casually, Taylor grabs Flesher's legs and sits back, locking him into a Boston crab! He sits back as far as he can, compacting the much smaller Flesher into an even tighter package. "Flesher looks to be in a great deal of pain," Stevens points out. "He's wincing very uncomfortably, because the human body's just not meant to bend that way." Flesher punctuates that by letting out a short, high-pitched stacatto scream that indicates that he's nearing the high end of his threshold for pain.

 

Flesher starts to inch his way toward the ropes, with Sexton Hardcastle dropping down and asking him periodically if he wants to give up. Each time, Flesher shouts "NO!" as he works closer and closer to the edge of the mat. TNT realizes that he's getting close to the ropes and promptly walks back into the center of the ring.

 

"It doesn't look good for Flesher!" Riley gloats as if he had something to gain. "He's bent in half like a paper clip!"

 

"A paper clip?" Stevens is incredulous. "A PAPER CLIP?"

 

"What's wrong with that?"

 

"Why couldn't you say 'folded up like a greeting card' or 'snapped in two like a dry twig?'"

 

"Yeesh, here's the Kettle with advice on how to use cliches. I'm just trying to improve my use of the English language, Mr. Two Delicious Eggs, Sausage or Bacon and Toast, All For Just $2.99."

 

"That's the longest and most cumbersome insult I've ever heard."

 

Riley looks a bit hurt, and can only spit out, "Ah, shove it up your ass and die."

 

"Much better."

 

Meanwhile, Flesher is trying desperately to reach the ropes, and is actually managing to succeed. He pulls himself closer and closer to the ropes, lunging at them but still a few inches too far away. With every passing second, he looks more and more pained, and still he reaches out, straining his back even further to get to the ropes. Finally, he reaches out... AND GRABS THE ROPES! The crowd pops in spite of themselves as Sexton Hardcastle admonishes Thompson to break the hold, administering the standard

 

ONE!

 

TWO!!

 

THREE!!!

 

FOUR!!!!

 

count and finally having to physically shove TNT off Flesher. Although he stays calm and focused, it's clear that TNT's just waiting to put Flesher away. He stands in the center of the ring in a stance where he could pounce at any moment. "Look at him," says Riley. "He can just SMELL that US Title."

 

Flesher starts to pull himself up to his feet, but sees TNT waiting for him and opts instead to bail to the outside. He waits outside and stretches his back for a moment, trying to regain his composure. Rather than let his opponent recover on the outside, though, TNT sprints to the far ropes, bounces off and dives over the top rope at Flesher. Flying through the air, he falls toward Flesher, who looks up with an expression that seems to say, "Fuck. My birthday's in two days. I don't need this." And with that, Flesher just falls to the concrete, partially as a strategy to avoid the tope but more out of an unwillingness to even try to catch the 267-pound monster. Unprepared for that, TNT hits the concrete off balance and stumbles forward into the guardrail. Uninjured but shaken up, TNT turns back around, only for Flesher to get back to his feet and wipe his brow. "He thinks he escaped it!" says Stevens. "He doesn't realize that TNT's just going to continue assaulting him back in the ring!"

 

TNT starts to climb back into the ring, cutting his losses, but Flesher grabs him by the foot and just hangs on like a sack of potatoes. TNT tries to get back in, but Flesher won't let him! Surprised, Hardcastle breaks the count for no apparent reason other than incompetence, giving the two combatants a brand-new ten-count. Thompson, meanwhile, gets just frustrated enough to go to the outside and give Flesher a piece of his mind. Flesher releases his ankle, then backs up against the guardrail. TNT charges at him, but as soon as he gets close, Flesher lunges forward and nails him in the jaw with a palm strike! TNT staggers backward, and Flesher capitalizes by lunging forward and striking TNT with another incredibly stiff palm strike that sends TNT crumbling to the concrete, knocked silly!

 

"Hoo boy," says Riley dryly. "He hit him with his hand. Whoop de do."

 

"You're forgetting, Booby, that those shoteis actually hit harder than punches. A punch will hit your with bone, but it's relatively loose. Flesher strikes the jaw, nose or neck with the heel of his hand, which not only compresses the bone but also concentrates the force in a much smaller surface area."

 

"It's just his HAND!"

 

"Tell that to TNT."

 

Flesher rolls TNT back into the ring, then follows him in. He tries to get up, but he's still suffering from TNT's expert battering and can't capitalize on the fact that his opponent is barely there mentally.

 

"A strike to the jaw is actually more dangerous than a strike to other points on the head, Miss Riley," says Stevens in a Solie-esque tone of voice. "It's not brain trauma, but feeling your jaw knocked out of place is quite shocking and disturbing. Plus, you won't eat right for days."

 

"... It's just his hand!!" Riley just won't buy it. "I mean... an elbow... okay. But it's his god damn HAND!"

 

Stevens reaches over, pulls his hand back the way that Tom or Edwin would for their shoteis, and strikes Riley on the side of the head. Riley looks over, shocked, and yells, "OW!!!!!! What the hell was that for?!"

 

"It's just my hand." Stevens rolls his eyes.

 

"I think you broke my damn headset!"

 

"But Bobby, it's just my hand."

 

"Okay, okay, okay."

 

Back in the ring, Flesher pulls himself to his feet before TNT can. He leans against the ropes, thankful for a breather as his opponent lays on the mat. Tom chooses not to capitalize, though, and just rests it out while TNT begins to pull himself back up using the ropes. Just as TNT makes it to his knees, Flesher charges over and nails him with a boot to the face that puts him back down. Flesher grabs Taylor's leg and starts to twist it into an ankle lock, but pauses midway through the move and then backs away to wait for TNT to come back up again.

 

Riley asks, "What the hell's he doing? He's got him laying right there!"

 

"I bet that Tom Flesher's remembering what happened at the beginning of the match, Bobby. He tried to wrestle TNT, and he's been getting slaughtered more or less nonstop since then." Stevens, as always, speaks with the voice of a veteran. "I'd say that, to steal a phrase, Flesher's best bet is to put TNT on the Head Trauma Express."

 

"Well that's a stupid expression."

 

"Don't blame me. I'm not the one who put it on a t-shirt."

 

TNT comes up again, this time almost making it to his feet before Flesher charges over and plants a Doc Marten right into his face. TNT falls back onto the ropes, and Flesher strikes him with a shotei to neutralize him for a few more moments. With that, he pulls TNT into the center of the ring and spins behind him, grabbing both arms as if he were going for a Tiger Suplex. Instead, though, he spins around and bends TNT over into position for an Unprettier! TNT tries to stand up to throw Flesher backwards, but the US Champion shifts his weight and kicks his legs out, slamming TNT's face into the mat with even more force! Thompson's head hits the mat with a sickening THUD and Flesher rolls him over to cover. Sexton Hardcastle counts

 

ONE

 

 

TWO

 

 

 

but TNT kicks out! The look on Flesher's face seems to say, "Why me?" He backs away and sighs deeply, then drops a diving headbutt into TNT's chest. He covers again, weakly, for

 

ONE

 

 

TWO

 

 

 

"Oh, come on," says Riley. "He doesn't really expect that to..."

 

KICKOUT!!!!

 

"Told ya."

 

Flesher reels backwards, wishing desperately for TNT to stay down. He pulls the Magnificent Powderkeg to his feet and whips him to the ropes. As Thompson rebounds, Flesher strikes him with another palm to the head, which stuns him just long enough for the US Champion to spin him around and lock his hands around his waist. Flesher tightens his grip and arches his back, throwing TNT overhead powerfully and then dumping him on his neck and shoulders in a released German suplex. TNT hits the mat hard and rolls over, finally coming to rest on his stomach. Flesher rolls him onto his back, and then goes over to the corner.

 

The Superior One begins a slow, defeated climb to the top rope. "Flesher's not happy," says Stevens authoritatively. "Just look at him. He's taken a worse beating today at the hands of TNT than perhaps any other match he's wrestled. This youngster, Taylor Nicholas Thompson, is absolutely a force!" Flesher gets to the top rope and jumps off half-heartedly, pumping his legs and aiming for a Doc Marten double stomp to TNT's chest. The challenger rolls out of the way, though, and Flesher hits the mat hard! He collapses, a combination of the immense stress just put on his ankles and the sheer despondence of missing such a simple move. TNT grabs him, ready to move in for the kill.

 

"Flesher may have just signed his death warrant," declares Riley with glee. "New US Champion coming up!"

 

Thompson lifts Flesher up, locks his hands around the champion's waist and arches backwards, sending him sailing through the air in a belly-to-belly suplex. Flesher lands hard, and TNT grins sadistically as he hears the impact. The challenger struts over and drops a quick and dirty elbow smash into Flesher's chest, knocking the wind out of him and leaving him motionless on the mat. He stands up, then flips off the booing crowd.

 

"You know, Grand Spam, I'm surprised this crowd is booing Taylor Nicholas Thompson."

 

"Why's that, Booby?"

 

"Look at him just butchering Flesher! That's what these fans have wanted ever since Flesher returned at Snake Eyes!"

 

"That was only a week and a half ago."

 

"That's how much they hate him!"

 

Thompson looks at Tom Flesher's beaten body and cockily dusts off his hands. Then, he struts toward the corner and starts to climb the ropes.

 

"Oh no! He wouldn't!"

 

"Bobby, he would, and he IS."

 

TNT gets to the top rope and, facing the crowd, gives the sections to his immediate left and right the finger. Then, with a smug look on his face, he arches his back and leaps off the top rope, throwing a picture-perfect moonsault.

 

 

Unfortunately, when he lands, Flesher isn't exactly waiting for him.

 

 

Thompson hits the mat hard, chest-first, and almost on reflex alone recoils as soon as he makes impact. He curls up, holding his ribs and almost looking like he's cracked a few as his enormous frame landed with almost all the weight concentrated on his chest. Flesher, barely able to move, somehow realizes he has to capitalize on this mistake.

 

He pulls himself up to his feet and turns around, dropping a headbutt directly into Thompson's injured ribs. He screams out, in intense pain, but Flesher doesn't cover him. Instead, he opts to yank TNT to his feet and whip him to the ropes. Thompson, running on fumes, is unable to come up with a counter move and so gets nailed in the face with a Yakuza kick. He lands back on the ropes, and Flesher follows him back. With an Irish whip, he sends the Magnificent One face-first into the corner. TNT hits the turnbuckle hard, taking the bump stiffly on his sternum. He sort of slumps over, obviously in intense pain. Flesher, though, doesn't have any room in his strategy for compassion. He charges into the corner and strikes his opponent in the back of the head with an enormous running palm strike! TNT's head bounces off the steel ringpost and, with a little help from Flesher, he falls backwards toward the center of the ring.

 

"TNT looks to be out cold," notes Grand Slam, "but it's entirely possible that he's just stunned."

 

Riley scoffs openly. "Possible? Probable! There's no way TNT's staying down for a palm strike!"

 

Stevens raises his eyebrow, then holds his hand up in position for another shotei.

 

"OKAY! OKAY! So he might stay down!"

 

Stevens grins and says, "Much better" as Flesher decides not to cover TNT. Instead, he lifts him to his feet and cinches a side gutwrench lock. TNT tries to wriggle out, but Flesher quiets him with a stiff elbow to the back of the head. Realizing that he has to end the match now if he's going to end it at all, Flesher lifts the challenger up vertically, then quickly falls to a sit-out. He splatters Thompson onto the mat on his head, and TNT lays motionless on the mat.

 

"EGO BUSTER by Tom Flesher," shouts Grand Slam. "What a maneuver! We haven't seen that out of him recently, but it hasn't lost any of its power!"

 

Riley answers, "Now THAT, I can buy!"

 

Flesher rolls over on top of TNT, and Sexton Hardcastle counts

 

ONE

 

 

TWO

 

 

 

 

THREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

DING DING DING!!!!!!!!

 

 

"Your winner, and STILL SWF United States Champion... 'The Superior One,' Tom Flesher!!!!!!"

 

Hardcastle grabs the US strap and hands it off to Flesher while he raises the champion's limp left arm. TNT rolls away, holding his head, and half-slides, half-falls out of the ring. Flesher looks at the belt, then kisses it and hugs it to his body. The camera zooms in to catch his facial expression, and the audience hears him say, "Man, what I wouldn't do for you."

 

"Flesher is a man with a one-track mind," says Stevens. "All he wants is his gold!"

 

"And pussy! Don't forget pussy!"

 

Stevens holds his hand up once more, and Riley cowers away. With that, Stevens says, "Coming up next is our main event, a three-way tag team contest to determine the Tag Team Championship! It's gonna be a barnburner, and that, my friends, is a damn promise! We'll be right back!"

[Guest BA_Baracus]

“What’s wrong, motherfucker? You were a man, just a minute ago…”

 

We are back in Baltimore to a packed house and a roaring crowd as “You Were” bumps over the speakers, heralding the arrival of the Clan! “The following contest is scheduled for one fall, and it is for the SWF Tag Team Championships!” booms Funyon. “Entering first, at a combined weight of 421 pounds, Fallout and Thoth…the Claaaaaaaaan!”

 

“Welcome back to Smarkdown, and our heated main event!” shouts Stevens. “We’ve had a hot night with three title defenses thus far, and our fourth on the way: it’s the Clan and the Midnight Carnival, surprising allies of late, vying for the belts held by Chris Wilson and Strkye of the Magnificent Seven!”

 

“And there’s no way in hell this is fair!” snaps Riley. “It’s basically four on two! Thoth wants Wilson dead! Edwin wants Wilson at least lightly battered! These two teams’ll be all over the M7 like flies on…uh…fly…stuff!”

 

“Not anything like the many beatdowns the M7 has fired at the Carnival over the past week, no sir…”

 

“Those were tactical strikes! This is low!”

 

Thoth and Fallout climb into the ring, discussing strategy as the lights drop out again, and “Love Rollercoaster” starts to blare! The lights blaze wildly and the fans are on their feet cheering as Edwin MacPhisto and Chris Raynor appear at the time of the ramp! “Entering second,” bellows Funyon, “at a combined 489 pounds, Chris Raynor and World Heavyweight Champion Edwin MacPhisto, the Mid…Night…CARNIVALLL!” The crowd explodes and the Carnies dash down the entrance ramp, diving into the ring to pose…and briefly consult the Clan. A few nods are shared, but Fallout wags his finger, shaking his head and ushering Thoth back to the corner. Edwin shrugs, then returns to his corner as Raynor takes the ring.

 

“The Clan and the Carnival have been allied tonight, but it looks like Fallout wants those belts, regardless of any alliance between Thoth and Edwin!” supposes Stevens. “We’re in for a treat tonight…”

 

And suddenly, “Toxicity” by System of A Down detonates the speakers, and the Baltimore Arena floods with boos!

 

“And their opponents, weighing in at a combined 492 pounds…they are the SWF Tag Team Champions, representing the Magnificent Seven…Chris Wilson, and Stryyyke! The champions cockily saunter down to the ring, belts flashing in the light as “Toxicity” blares on. They arrive to the stares of their opponents, and noting the seething disgust in the eyes of all four men looking his way, Chris Wilson opts to stay in the corner and send Stryke in first. The ref calls for the bell…

 

*DING DING DING*

 

And so it begins, with Edwin leaning back in his corner as Raynor whispers something into his ear. Fallout stands a few steps out from his corner, his eyes whipping back and forth between Stryke and MacPhisto… Stryke slowly steps out from his corner, both eyes on Edwin at the moment… “I wonder how this will play out,” Mark ponders. “After all, while The Carnival and The Clan have a common enemy tonight, we all know there’s no love lost between the two factions…”

 

Edwin nods to Raynor, without looking at him, then steps out of his corner and approaches the center of the ring. Fallout does the same, and so does Stryke, though a little more hesitantly. Raynor turns out to the fans and waves his arms while shouting “Ed-win! Ed-win!”, and the crowd quickly catches on. Wilson frowns at this, but keeps his eyes in the ring. Thoth remains emotionally blank in his corner…

 

“Well, we had the Trio of Terror last week… So what are we calling the Magnificent Seven’s team tonight, Bobby?”

 

“The Duo of Death!”

 

*sigh*

 

“The Dichotomy of Destruction?”

 

“Just stop.”

 

Stryke is sporting a cocky smirk, suggesting his slowness is caution, not cowardice. Edwin and Fallout are at the center of the ring, eyes constantly bouncing back from each other to Stryk-

 

… suddenly Fallout lashes out at Edwin, cracking a hard chop across his chest! The “Ed-win!” chants are quickly killed off as Fallout lands two more chops, sending Edwin into the ropes, and Stryke steps up to assist in the attack! He and Fallout take turns, pulling their good arms back and *WHAP*, a particularly vicious hit from Stryke doubles the World Champ over! Stryke pushes Edwin back up and continues the assault, going so hard and fast that Fallout just steps out of the way!

 

“Edwin is getting 0Wn3d!” Riley crows, loving the sight.

 

“Just wait,” Mark says, grinning a little himself.

 

“What for?”

 

A sudden “OOOOOH!” from the crowd, and Riley turns back to see Stryke go down hard after a vicious heel kick from Fallout! Riley’s smile goes upside down, and Raynor breathes a sigh of relief as Fallout jerks Stryke back up to his feet and then starts laying into him with chops! Stryke is driven back into the ropes opposite MacPhisto, and Fallout begins firing faster, harder, and at the assault’s end Stryke’s chest is turning bright bright red!

 

“If only that were Raynor…” Riley growls, through his clenched teeth.

 

“Huh? Why?” Mark asks, being sure to add “Besides the fact you hate him”

 

“Red boobies, man, red boobies!”

 

“Ohhhh yeeeeaaa…”

 

Fallout steps back, shooting a devilish grin at Chris Wilson- suddenly, Edwin rockets out from his side of the ring, gunning straight for Stryke! Fallout politely steps out of the way, and Edwin leaps and connects with a “Springing sidekick,” calls Mark, “that sends Stryke over the top and out!”

 

Edwin leans over the top rope to see the damage done, then turns around and walks right into a spinning heel kick-

 

-no, he catches Fallout’s foot, and in one swift move he uses a standing Dragon Screw Legwhip to launch Fallout over him and across the ring! Fallout rolls to his feet and immediately comes back charging, but the Mac Daddy is ready, and easily ducks the initial clothesline attempt. Fallout hits the opposite ropes and comes back, but Edwin quickly scoops him up, and the eVil one goes spinning all the way around into “-a Tilt-a-whirl front drop by Edwin!”

 

“Pshaw,” counters Riley. “I could do that… no really, I could!”

 

*a pre-recorded rimshot is heard*

 

Edwin hooks the leg, but Fallout rolls his shoulder up even before the count of one. MacPhisto grabs the arm of the momentarily dazed Fallout and wrings it around once, then drags him over to the Carnival Corner - Tag! The not-quite-legendary-but-still-pretty-darn-good-tag-wrestler Chris Raynor steps in through the ropes to quite the ovation, then puts a boot to Fallout’s tummy before Edwin releases him and climbs into his corner.

 

“If the Carnival can pull out the win tonight, Bobby-

 

“You mean a real win, right Mark? Not like Friday’s wussy DQ win?”

 

“Oh shut up. If the Carnival can pull out the win tonight, this will be an unprecedented fourth tag title reign for Chris Raynor!”

 

Bobby sneers and comes back with “And look at the stats! Three reigns, and the total combined days don’t even come CLOSE to a record! The guy’s a hack!”

 

Stryke rolls back into the ring right about this time, when Raynor lands a second kick to Fallout’s stomach, keeping him doubled over. Stryke shoots a cold look at the Carny, but reluctantly walks over and drops an elbow down across Fallout’s back. A few repeat shots, then they each take one of Fallout’s arms and launch him into the ropes. As Fallout heads for the ropes, Raynor suddenly turns and levels Stryke with a clothesline!

 

Mark can’t help but laugh, and say “Poor Stryke! No one wants to play nice with him!”

 

Raynor then turns back to Fallout, who’s on his way back. The Carny ducks down and grabs him, then pulls him up and falls back, dropping him across the top rope! Riley’s desperate cry of “Stop the match!” goes unheard, and Fallout is forced to deal with the sudden lack of air coming his way. Stryke quickly gets up to his feet and drops an elbow on Raynor before he can get up. Repeated strikes keep Raynor grounded, and finally the Carny stops trying to get up. Stryke hops over him and dashes to the ropes and jumps, vaulting off the second one and flipping back onto Raynor!

 

“Meteor into a pin,” and Mark counts “One! Tw- Raynor kicks out at mid-two!”

 

And AGAIN, poor Stryke is blindsided as Fallout dives into him from the side! A flying forearm knocks the Magnificent Seven-er off balance, and Thoth nods approvingly from the other side of the ring. Wilson shouts harsh words of encouragement to his protégé, but they don’t do him much good at the moment, as Fallout is beating him down in the only neutral corner. He takes a step back, looking down at Stryke-

 

-suddenly the crowd begins cheering, and without looking back Fallout immediately pivots on one heel and kicks the other up, landing it right between Raynor’s eyes!

 

“…Wow.” is all Mark can manage to say, as Raynor falls aside, victim to Fallout’s preemptory strike. The cheers of the crowd die as quickly as they came, and Fallout steps forward and grabs Stryke by his greasy little head. He drags the poor tyke out of the corner into the open ring area, then hooks the arm, hooks the tights, and uuuup and over Stryke goes in a snap-suplex. Fallout pops up to his feet as Stryke crashes down, then shoots a quick glance to Raynor, who’s halfheartedly staggering for his corner! Fallout quickly steps over and yanks Raynor’s hair from behind, dragging him back away from Edwin.

 

“Man, it looks like Fallout’s managing the whole workload,” says Mark, duly impressed.

 

Riley sniggers and adds, “He ain’t the best bad guy in this-”

 

*GASP*

 

“I mean, SECOND best bad guy in this business for nothing!”

 

Raynor tries to swing behind him, but he only catches one or two light hits to Fallout’s shoulders, nothing substantial. The veteran Fallout wraps his arm around Raynor’s neck from in front, then drives him down onto his back. Again Fallout instantly jumps to his feet, but now there’s no immediate danger, and he begins to look a little more comfortable. Stryke and Raynor both get to their feet about the same time, albeit dazedly. Fallout stands in between them, considering…

 

… he picks Raynor again. Fallout grabs the Carny’s arm and whips him into the neutral corner, then backs up to the opposite corner, the Clan’s corner, and nods to Thoth… he leans back in the turnbuckle, then sprints out towards Raynor-

 

-but suddenly Stryke dives out at Fallout’s legs-

 

-and Fallout springs right over him! Stryke grabs and catches nothing but air, then turns to see Fallout splash Raynor in the corner!

 

"Man, Fallout is on his game tonight, Riley!"

 

Riley looks indifferent. "... He's doing... OK, I guess."

 

"I guess you're pulling for M7 all the way then, huh?"

 

"Of course not! You of all people, Mark, should know I'm perfectly objective!"

 

That's quickly followed by "GET 'EM, STRYKE!", and that is quickly followed by "Aw, nuts." as Stryke jumps to his feet, gunning for Fallout-

 

-and Fallout stands aside, letting Stryke plow right into Raynor! He backs out slowly, politely letting Raynor slump to the canvas, before he turns around and sees Fallout springing off the second rope and OH MY GOD HERE HE COMES RIGHT AT ME! is the last thing Stryke thinks before a springboard dropkick to the chest floors him! Fallout rolls on top of him and hooks the leg! Mark counts!

 

“ONE!

 

TWO!

 

T- Stryke gets the shoulder up at three!”

 

Fallout is slower to get up this time, not from fatigue but from being unchallenged. He stands over Stryke, then looks up across the ring to see Raynor clambering up to one knee, and the smile on Fallout’s face says it all.

 

“Well, he seems to be enjoying this,” says Riley, “dominating the competition and beating them senseless in the process.”

 

“Fallout’s always enjoyed handing out punishment,” Mark responds. “You of all people should know that. You worked with him for quite a while.”

 

Fallout continues to watch Raynor, as he sloooooowly reaches his feet. A light bulb appears over Fallout’s head, and he decides it’s time for a little three-way action, in an entirely masculinity-affirming and non-sexual fashion. He steps to the downed Stryke, grabs him by the hair and jerks him up, then drags him over to Raynor. He then shoves them into the ropes, takes each of their inside arms, and puuuuulls them out. Raynor and Stryke are flung across the ring, a sort of Double Irish Whip - they hit the opposite ropes and come back looking for a DOUBLE CLOTHESLINE!

 

Too bad it missed.

 

Fallout ducks it and sprints across the ring as Raynor and Stryke hit the ropes and come back again - they attempt a double clothesline again, but it’s not too effective when Fallout is vaulting off the second rope and hitting a DOUBLE CROSS BODY! He lands on top of both men, and the referee drops to count!

 

“What a humiliation,” cries Stevens, “if Fallout pins them both at once- here’s the referee!”

 

ONE!

 

TWO- Raynor kicks out!

 

TH- Stryke gets HIS shoulder up!

 

Fallout rolls off his opponents and stands, looking down at Stryke and Raynor, who are both looking up and wondering why they’re seeing stars. No matter. Fallout takes Stryke by the arm and stands him up, then looks around the ring, wondering what he should do next. Edwin is standing on the apron, almost salivating while glaring at Wilson… and then, Fallout gets it. He grins an eVil grin, then pulls Stryke and whips him as hard as he can into the Carnival’s corner! Edwin hops back as Wilson’s little buddy crashes chest-first into the turnbuckle! Fallout quickly then grabs Raynor’s arm and pulls him up, Irish Whip… into the Magnificent Seven’s corner!

 

“Oh this is too good…” Riley says as he snickers. “Get ‘em, Willy!”

 

Raynor manages to turn and land back-first in the corner, but Wilson grabs his throat from behind in a blatant chokehold! The referee is saying something to Fallout, waving hands and arms and whatnot, unaware of this. Wilson sneers at Edwin, then releases his partner. MacPhisto strokes his chin, thinking… Then pulls his left hand back and-

 

*POIK*

 

Three-stooges eye poke! Stryke is blind! Bliiiiiiind!

 

“Edwin responds in typical Carny style, and-… Now Wilson’s choking Raynor again! It’s dueling illegality!”

 

Wilson holds on extra tight, and Raynor begins to turn slightly bluer before Wilson relents. Edwin responds by grabbing Stryke in a headlock- “Oh, I can’t watch!” cries Riley as he shields his eyes from the NOOGIE! Edwin drives his knuckles into Stryke’s skull and noogie’s the spit out of him! Fallout continues to occupy the referee, and Wilson eggs the game on by choking Raynor with one arm and punching him in the side with the other! Raynor struggles violently and finally manages to break free, but he immediately falls to the mat, trying to breathe! Edwin takes offense to this, and he plays the Trump Card.

 

“No,” Bobby cries in vain, “Edwin, don’t do it!”

 

The Mac Daddy grabs Stryke’s right arm…

 

“This is too much,” Mark pleads, “Please Edwin, don’t do it!”

 

… he places both hands on Stryke’s forearm…

 

“Nooooooo!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

INDIAN BURN! Edwin’s hands move at supersonic speeds, and when Stryke finally breaks loose, his arm is burning bright red!

 

“He’s inhuman!” shouts Bobby, fighting back tears. “He’s a monster!”

 

Stryke falls to his knees holding his arm, while Raynor is still trying to catch his breath, and Fallout… well, he finally decides to stop bothering the referee. The Striped One turns around and is shocked to see both of the competitors still floored! Fallout casually slides by him and jerks Stryke up (by the burned arm, no less), then leaves him wobbling and goes for Raynor. He takes the Carny up by the hair and drags him over, leaving him standing face-to-face with Stryke. Fallout grabs both of their heads, pulls them back, and-

 

- a sudden double elbow stops Fallout in his tracks! A second, a third as Raynor and Stryke fight out! Fallout is falling out, and the Chris and Stryke connection each take an arm and whip him into the ropes! Fallout comes off the ropes and jumps, attempting a flying forearm for both, but Raynor and Stryke jump as well, and Fallout is caught mid-air by a double-dropkick! Raynor’s feet hit his shoulder while Stryke’s hit his face, and the end result is all three men collapsing in a heap in the center of the ring! The fans are stirred up, and Edwin seizes the opportunity to get a “Car-ni-val! Car-ni-val!” chant going! Fallout props himself up on his elbows and looks up to see Raynor crawling, crawling, crawling…

 

“TAG TO EDWIN!” shouts Mark, “MACPHISTO IS IN!” Fallout’s head whips around as another slap sounds behind him…

 

“And here comes Wilson!” Riley adds with noticeable glee, “Wilson’s in the house!”

 

Fallout closes his eyes, grits his teeth, braces himself and waits for the impact…

 

 

 

… and waits…

 

 

 

… and waits…

 

 

 

… and waits a little more… before looking up to see what the fuss is all about - the fuss, it seems, is about Edwin MacPhisto beating the piss out of Chris Wilson! Chop, chop, palm strike, chop, Edwin throws Wilson into the ropes and goes running after him, and Wilson hits the ropes, comes off and…

 

*WHAM*

 

The second Springing Sidekick of the night takes the evil genius down! “The Mac Daddy’s in the house, and the crowd is electric!” shouts Stevens. The “CARN-I-VAL” chant picks up even more steam as Edwin hammers Wilson with a barrage of jabs, and all the while, Fallout sits in the middle of the ring, bemused. “Fallout’s been pulling iron-man duty in this match, and so far he’s still the best off out of all the participants! Now that’s a ring strategist!” The crowd roars on as Wilson tries to fight back with a big overhand right fist, but the Mac Daddy lobs an elbow into the M7 leader’s face, spinning Wilson around straight into a MacPhisto rear waistlock! The world champ heaves backwards, and the crowd pops as he crushes Wilson with a smooth German suplex! The cheers rise even higher as Edwin holds the waistlock, stands, and vaults back again, this time dropping Wilson at an even higher angle and slamming his full weight down on the tag champ’s neck!

 

“Brutal double German suplex combo from the World Champion!” calls Stevens! Edwin rises as Wilson crumples, catching his breath before dropping for a cover, but suddenly finds himself stopped in his tracks as an arm wraps around his neck from behind, pulling his head backwards!

 

“Yes! Go, Fallout!” cries Riley. “Punish Edwin for hurting Chris Wilson!” Edwin stares up into the bright arena lights, contemplating the shimmer and the shine for a moment before Fallout falls to the mat, driving the back of Edwin’s head down with him!

 

“Blistering reverse DDT from Fallout, catching the pre-occupied Mac Daddy unaware—cover! We could have new tag champions!” The referee dives to the mat as Fallout hooks the leg!

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

TH—no, Edwin kicks out! “Close call for the Mac Daddy, but not enough from Fallout!” Edwin tries to push himself off the mat, but Fallout takes control, firing a knee to the gut and staggering the Mac Daddy. From behind Edwin, another figure starts to rise, and the quick thinking Fallout shoves Edwin forward, plowing him straight into Wilson! The two nemeses turn to face each other…and get sandwiched together as Fallout pounds Edwin in the back with a picture-perfect standing dropkick! 239 pounds of Mac Daddy collide awkwardly into Chris Wilson…and flip him over the top rope to the outside! Wilson takes a nasty spill, and Edwin turns right into a boot to the gut! He doubles over…and Fallout snags a front facelock! Fallout snags Edwin by the waistline, lifts, and falls backwards!

 

“MELTDOWN!” shouts Stevens! “Brainbuster DDT on Edwin MacPhisto! Fallout’s singlehandedly won the titles for the Clan!” The crowd’s reaction is decidedly mixed as Fallout yanks a limp Edwin away from the ropes, then floats a lateral press for the cover!

 

ONNNNE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWOOOOOOOO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREEEEEEEEE-NO! Edwin MacPhisto’s shoulder flies off the mat as Chris Wilson yanks him out of the ring! That mixed reaction changes to a flood of boos! “Chris Wilson just pulled Edwin out of the ring and broke up the three count!” shouts Stevens!

 

“That’s my boy!” squeals Riley. “Wilson fights with his head!” For all of Wilson’s interference, Edwin is still down and out, and he collapses outside the ring in a heap. Satisfied, Wilson turns back towards the ring…and eats a pair of boots as Fallout baseball slides right into his jaw! Wilson staggers right back out of the ring, nearly tripping over Edwin’s body, and Fallout slides out after him, wasting no time and landing a running knee strike towards the cowed Wilson’s spine! Fallout catches up to Wilson, grabs him, turns, and throws him back into the ring as quickly as he exited.

 

“Fallout’s taken total control!” comments Stevens. “The Nuclear Weapon, two-time ICTV champion, is looking like a veritable ring guerrilla out there tonight!” Outside the ring, Edwin crawls to his feet, trying to get his senses back while Chris Raynor looks on anxiously. Fallout hops to the apron as Wilson rolls about in the ring, trying to get up…and Fallout points for the sky! Even the much-loathed sadist gets a pop as he grabs onto the top rope! “He’s going for it! He’s going for it! Fallout’s already hit a Meltdown on Edwin, and now he’s going to put Wilson away with the Nuke! It’s not the Carnival, but hell, as long as it’s not Wilson, I’m happy with it! Come on, Fallout!”

 

Fallout bounces once on the apron, then pulls himself up and springs off the top rope, flipping backwards as he flies towards the center of the ring with a magnificent springboard shooting star press, diving down, down, down…

 

…INTO THE RAISED KNEES OF CHRIS WILSON! “WOOOOOO! Wilson blocks the Nuke—and Fallout might have just broken himself in two!” Riley is ecstatic as Fallout falls aside, crying out and clutching at his entire upper body in immense pain!

 

“Fallout had everything in hand and tried to end this with finality, but he went one step too far—Wilson was ready for the Nuke, and now it’s anybody’s ballgame once more! Fallout desperately needs to make a tag to the fresh Thoth, and Edwin MacPhisto has got to get back in the ring to tag out to Chris Raynor!” The crowd is on their feet, trying to rally Edwin and, to a lesser extent, Fallout, but Wilson rises first and pulls the crawling Fallout up violently! Fallout, his whole body shattered from the blown Shooting Star, is easy prey for a standing headscissors! The crowd boos as Wilson scores a gutwrench, pulls Fallout up ever so slighty…and leaps, falling to his knees and decimating the Nuclear Weapon with a jumping piledriver!

 

“Yes! Yeeeeeees! Now the mastermind takes over!”

 

The ring shakes off the impact, and Wilson gets ready to cover, then suddenly snaps to attention as the cheers of the crowd give him an early warning! He looks up to see one raging red World Champion bolting straight towards him and leaping with a big spear!

 

WHAM! Edwin crashes into Wilson on his second wind and the M7 leader falls just beyond Fallout’s twitching form as Edwin rolls atop and rears back for a mounted punch—no, Wilson rolls through and scrambles to his feet, breaking away! Edwin follows suit and fires off a big shotei, but Wilson dodges and snags the offending arm, stepping forward to whip Edwin towards the ropes! “What a series of reversals! Edwin’s on the bounce-back!” Edwin rockets towards Wilson, who charges to meet him with a clothesline…but ducks below and skids to a stop! Wilson turns straight into an inverted facelock, and the crowd explodes as Edwin kicks his feet off the mat and spins! CRACK! The crowd is electric and Chris Raynor is pounding the turnbuckle pad, yelling “EDWIN SMAAASH!” as the Mac Daddy connects with a swinging neckbreaker! “Sound Check!” shouts Stevens! “Edwin just rolled the dice on Wilson, but it took a helluva lot out of him, and now all three men are down! If we’re gonna have tag champions tonight, everyone needs to make a tag, and fast!”

 

The crowd rises to its feet, cheering wildly as Raynor, Thoth, and Stryke each bang on their respective buckles, reaching as far as they can, trying to make the tag that much easier for his partner. Edwin and Fallout start to crawl first, just as Wilson starts to stir and shake off the impact of the neckbreaker. “It’s Fallout! It’s Edwin! It’s Chris Wilson! It’s the tag titles on the line, folks, and this place is about to explode!” Edwin crawls, moving towards Raynor’s outstretched mitt, and Fallout powers forward as best he can, struggling towards the totally-fresh Thoth, while Wilson tries to make it to Stryke…they get closer…closer…closer…

 

…

 

…*SLAP*

 

…*SLAP*

 

“AND EDWIN AND FALLOUT MAKE THE TAGS!” The arena goes haywire as Chris Raynor and Thoth burst through the ropes, charging for each other, and then suddenly stopping and looking towards a still crawling Chris Wilson! Thoth nods to Raynor, and with a pair of grins and to a resounding cheer, both men dash forward to seize Wilson…

 

…who gets a last-second burst of energy and powers forward to tag in Stryke! Raynor and Thoth skid to a stop as Wilson bails, but they can’t slow quick enough, and a super-charged Stryke explodes off the top rope with a lightning-fast body press onto both men! The three crash to the mat, Stryke landing on top of both, and the eager Aussie hooks one leg on each man!

 

“Double cover! Stryke’s got them!” cries Riley. The ref dives to the mat as Stryke shouts for him to hurry up!

 

ONE!

 

TW—double kick-out, and with authority! The crowd pops again as Thoth and Raynor power up, sending Stryke flying up and off! “What a show of power from the Carnie and the Clannite!” shouts Stevens. “Stryke’s in trouble now!” Raynor and Thoth scramble up and each man seizes an arm of the stunned Stryke, stepping forward and whipping him towards the ropes! Stryke comes barreling back, his body not under his own control, and he’s easy prey as Raynor and Thoth catch him, lift, and use the momentum to drill him to the mat with a two-man powerslam! The crowd roars…and both the Carnie and Clanner drop for the cover! The ref waves a bold “no way!”, and Raynor and Thoth suddenly lock eyes and surge to their feet!

 

“Yeah, kill each other! Let Stryke recover, you idiots!” cackles Riley.

 

“Both teams want the pin—this Carnie/Clan alliance might be on shakier ground than we thought!” In the Carnie/Clan corners, Edwin and Fallout both shout for their partners to get their heads together, but Raynor and Thoth are face-to-face, shouting back and forth, completely ignorant of Stryke rising, backing off, and blasting forward to level both of them with a leaping two-armed lariat! Edwin slaps his forehead and Fallout slumps over the turnbuckle as their partners collapse to the mat! “Stryke takes advantage of the confusion, and now he’s got Thoth!” The tag champion grabs the dazed Thoth and quickly scoops him into a fireman’s carry!

 

“Overdrive! Goodnight, Thothykins!” Stryke gets ready to flip Thoth into the diamond cutter, but Thoth thrashes in his arms! The Balancer’s resistance stalls Stryke momentarily, and Chris Raynor comes charging forward, leg raised as he boots Stryke right in the face!

 

“Big boot! Big boot! Chris Raynor just saved Thoth from the Overdrive!” Stryke falls straight backwards and Thoth slides out of his grasp as he collapses…and Chris Raynor dives forward for the cover on Stryke! The crowd roars, and the referee dives to the mat!

 

“Raynor’s got it! 4-time tag champion!”

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

TH—and Thoth breaks it up with a kneedrop to Raynor’s neck! The crowd boos as Thoth fires a sharp boot into Raynor’s forehead and kicks him away, then bends to cover Stryke himself…no, he pulls the limp Stryke up off the mat, and with all his might, heaves him into the Magnificent Seven corner! Barely recovered, Chris Wilson instinctively throws his arms up to receive Stryke, and the Aussie limply crashes into Wilson’s grasp before falling away…

 

…and the ref points to Wilson. And the ref starts to count.

 

“One! Two! Get in the ring, Wilson!”

 

Thoth grins, and the crowd goes nuts.

 

“Thoth just forced a tag! Stryke is out! Wilson has to come into the ring and face him…but Wilson’s stalling! That bastard!”

 

“Bastard nothing!” snaps Riley. “Mastermind!”

 

“Three! Four!” Tired of waiting, Thoth charges forward, fist raised, and decks Wilson right in the jaw! The M7 leader’s firm grip on the ring ropes barely keeps him from falling off the apron, but Thoth grabs him by the neck, lifts…and rips Chris Wilson up, over the ropes, and into the ring with a thundering impact! “This is nuts!” shouts Stevens! “Eye rake from Thoth! Another! Another! He’s clawing Wilson to pieces! The pace of this war is off-the-charts!” Thoth scores one more eye rake, fazing Wilson, and then surges forward to scoop Chris Wilson up off the ground! “Riot of the Blood! Thoth is about to earn his second tag championship!” Across the ring, Raynor struggles to his feet, watching as Thoth gets ready to slam Wilson…and Wilson launches his fist up from the piledriver position right into Thoth’s nether regions!

 

“So says the nutshot!” cackles Riley, and the low blow, totally undetected thanks to Wilson’s close proximity for the cradle tombstone, breaks the Mastermind free! Chris Raynor charges up behind Wilson to another big pop, but Wilson’s on him in a second with a boot to the gut, a double underhook into a stiff DDT! Raynor staggers into the M7 corner, and Stryke hops onto the second rope and chokes him out from behind! The ref walks to check Thoth, and Wilson rises again just as Fallout charges into the ring!

 

“Stryke’s got Raynor…and Fallout’s not standing for this!” The Nuclear Weapon leaps, launching his fast-flying leg out in a superkick—

 

--that Wilson ducks! The mastermind dives to the mat, and the errant boot sails clear over his head and right into the side of the referee’s head! The striped shirt falls away with a sick snap, and Fallout stares on for a moment…before Chris Wilson pops up off the mat and throws his arm across Fallout’s chest! “No! No! Last Resort!”

 

WHAM! Wilson falls backwards and drills Fallout with the Downward Spiral…and then immediately flies into a defensive stance as Thoth snaps off the mat and charges forward aggressively! “The Clan’s not letting up—NO, no, Wilson dodges!” The tag champ sidesteps Thoth’s blitz, then rapidly sneaks up behind him, hooks a full-nelson, and powers forward to obliterate The Balancer with the Platinum Nightmare! Wilson rises and raises his arms, staring down the Carnies…who stare right past him.

 

“Yes! YEEEEES!” squeals Riley! “In the span of 15 seconds, Chris Wilson just totally annihilated the Clan! All he’s got is Raynor—hey, get that fan out of the—who the hell is that?!?”

 

The crowd roars as Wilson stands, arms high, triumphant, completely to the figure sliding into the ring behind him, all clad in black, stringy black hair obscuring his face! “Who the hell is that?”

 

“I don’t know!” bellows Stevens, and as Wilson turns to cover Thoth, the man in black gives him a huge toe kick to the gut! “But I like him already!” The crowd explodes and the Carnies look on in astonishment as the figure drops his shoulder, scoops Wilson onto his shoulders effortlessly, and flips him out of the fireman’s carry into a crushing Michinoku Driver!

 

“What a move! What a huge move!” shouts Stevens! “This man just blasted Chris Wilson…I feel like I’ve seen that move before!” The figure slides out of the ring, stopping only momentarily to shake the referee awake! The black-clad man bails to the front of the announce table, carefully pulling Thoth and Fallout out of the ring behind him as Stryke panics, watching his leader go down hard, instinctively loosening his grip on Raynor—and Chris takes advantage of the opening! He lets out a primal roar and surges forward, ripping Stryke over the ropes, falling to his knees, and absolutely destroying him with a huge Acid Rayn! “Acid Rayn! Acid Rayn! The mystery man just took out Wilson AND distracted Stryke, and Raynor’s all that’s left standing! This is it! The Carnival is finally getting revenge for the Magnificent Seven’s brutal assaults!” Raynor staggers to his feet momentarily, and outside the ring, the mystery man supports the fallen Clan members as Raynor flops forward to cover Chris Wilson! The referee drops to the mat!

 

“No! No!”

 

ONE!

 

“Kickoutkickoutkickoutkickout!”

 

 

TWOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

 

“Kickoutkickoutkickout…please?”

 

 

 

…

 

 

 

 

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

 

*DING, DING, DING*

 

“God…dammit…”

 

“Love Rollercoaster” starts to bump through the arena, and an elated Edwin MacPhisto bolts through the ropes to embrace Chris Raynor! The fans go nuts!

 

“Your winners, and NEW S-W-F tag team champions…Chris Raynor, and Edwin MacPhistOOOOO!”

 

“Yes! Way to go Chris! Way to go Edwin!”

 

“They only won the belts because of that asshole in black!”

 

The asshole in black spins on his heel, and Riley finds himself staring into eyes of fire.

 

“Oh my god. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.” Stevens and Riley stare open-mouthed, and in the ring, Wilson starts to stir, as the man-in-black seizes Funyon’s microphone…

 

“Wilson…” The slithery, contemptuous English drawl is familiar…not just to Wilson, but to Edwin. The Mac Daddy and Raynor shift their gaze and stagger backwards.

 

“Wilson…old leader….I never forget.”

 

Wilson looks up. He sweats. Hard.

 

“You have seven. Now…we…have…eight.” The figure throws his head back, and the stringy jet-black hair flies away, revealing a stolid, sadistic face.

 

“So…says…the Clan.”

 

“SPIDER NEKURA HAS RETURNED! I CAN’T BELIEVE IT!” Stevens and Riley are in shock, Thoth is grinning, Wilson is shaking in a staredown, the fans are going ballistic, and Edwin and Raynor are dumbfounded! They begin to shout at each other—neither knows what’s going on, and suddenly the bumping beats of “You Were” replace “Love Rollercoaster”! Edwin and Raynor raise the belts high, but look awkward, confused…and a little bit pissed.

 

“I don’t think the Carnival knew about this!” shouts Stevens over the huge crowd ovation. “They’ve won the tag titles, but I don’t think Thoth let Edwin in on this part of his plan…but the Clan just essentially gave the tag titles the Carnival! Is this a peace offering? Or is it just a means to Spider’s ends? Where do you draw the line, Riley? And what’s going to happen now?”

 

“This isn’t fair! They’re ganging up on Wilson! Spider can’t be back! He can’t be! Damn you, Thoth! You can’t outsmart the mastermind, you just can’t!”

 

“He just did, Bobby, and we’re out of time! Folks, we’ll have more on this on Storm, but for now—Edwin MacPhisto and Chris Raynor are your tag team champions, and Spider Nekura has retained to take HIS vengeance on Chris Wilson! Suddenly, Wilson, the top of the mountain doesn’t look so good, does it?” Stevens laughs, and the three-team staredown continues. “For Bobby Riley, Ben Hardy, and the whole crew, this is Mark Stevens, signing off!”

 

We fade to commercial on a roaring crowd and on 7 men, as Stryke comes to, looks around, and begins to wonder what the bloody hell is going on…

[Guest BA_Baracus]

SINGLES MATCH

Frost vs. Z

- Frost gets the win over an uhhh...interestingly dressed Z.

 

LIGHT-HEAVYWEIGHT TITLE MATCH

El Luchadore Magnifico © vs. Ced Odornez

- Magnifico retains the belt!

 

HARDCORE TITLE MATCH

Ash Ketchum © vs. Jay Dawg

- Jobber Dawg is hardcore!

 

US TITLE MATCH

Tom Flesher © vs. “TNT” Taylor Nicholas Thompson

- Flesher holds onto his belt.

 

TRIPLE THREAT TAG TEAM TITLE MATCH

Chris Wilson & Stryke © vs. Chris Raynor & Edwin MacPhisto vs. Thoth & Fallout

- The Carnies are tag-tastic! Plus a big return...read the match!