SWF Smarkdown- Monday, July 15th

July 16, 2002

The Richmond Coliseum in Richmond, Virginia appears to the viewers around the World [mostly in the New Jersey area though] as a sky-high camera pans the outskirts of the arena, as thousands of fans file into the stadium. Large blowup dolls of SWF superstars line the entranceway, with “SWF SMARKDOWN! SOLD OUT!” is prominently sprawled across a sign resting in the blowup Edwin’s hands, and “Will give head for free” resides in the grasp of the blowup Jay Dawg’s. The screen cuts into the arena, where a series of vivid and intense pyro launches from the pinnacle of the stage in unison.

*** BOOM ***

“WELCOME! [echoes] welcome…welcome…welcome…” the familiar vocals of Mark Stevens ring out.

*** BOOM ***

“LADIES, GENTS, AND EVERYTHING IN BETWEEN! [echoes] between…between…between” Grand Slam bellows.

*** BOOM ***

And then the redundant vocal pitch of Bobby Riley chimes in “TO SWF SMARKDOWN! [conspicuously lacking any echo]…Stevens, why the hell do you get to echo, and I don’t?”

Stevens: “I’m special, and I paid for my own headset. Ahem. Anyhoo, we’ve got a great show for you folks tonight, as we have a mini-fridge full of matches lined up, and good ones at that! And to top it off, we have a proverbially tasty main event featuring the likes of the Boston Strangler, Spider Nekura, and the SWF World champion, the Crown Prince of Flash and Panache, Edwin MacPhisto! But right now we’re starting things off with what is sure to be quite an exciting match, when Mercury goes head to head with…”

“Midnight Carnival” a sultry yet soft female voice rings out, accompanied by an immediate eruption of cheers from the exuberant crowd. A collection of blinding white sporadic flashes emits from the SmarkTron™ as the opening upbeat rhythms of the Red Hot Chili Peppers’ “Love Rollercoaster” flourish throughout the arena. “STEP RIGHT UP” slinks across the SmarkTron™ in bold, black lettering, signaling the subsequent arrival of both Chris Raynor and Edwin MacPhisto, who gleefully trot down the entrance ramp, SWF tag titles slung across their shoulders.

Stevens: “What’s this? We seem to be having a surprise opening word or two from tag champs Edwin MacPhisto and Chris Raynor!”

Riley: “What the hell are THEY doing here?”

Stevens: “Only time will tell, as two rather exasperated Carnies are making their way down the aisle way!”

Staccato flares of purple and blue lights illuminate the two Carnies, who confidentially slide into the ring, Edwin acquiring a cordless microphone and taking on the center of the squared circle, his red trench coat flowing fluidly behind his Englishman posture. Raynor frivolously reverberates from various pairs of ring ropes, exploring the ring, as Edwin presses the mic against his lips, beginning to speak in his buoyant, thick English accent.

Edwin: “HELLO RICHMOND!”

The enthusiastic audience screams out with pride, marking for the mere mention of themselves.

Edwin: “What’s up in this hizzouse!?”

Riley: “Why the fuck doesn’t he just get to the damn point!?”

Stevens: “Shut up Riley, or he might challenge you to a dance-off.”

Riley [gulping with fear]: “Righto.”

An echoing “MAC-PHIST-O” chant is rallied off by the Richmond-ites, but is soon abruptly silenced by Eddie Mac himself, who raises a single hand of silence.

Edwin: “Well. Well, well, well. I’ll tell ya what’s up in THIS [points a single thumb towards his chest] Carnie’s hizzouse. Nom it’s not about tonight’s main event, it’s something maybe even more important. I’m sure AT LEAST for or five of you tuned in last Storm, no? To those of you who didn’t, you missed out. Indeedy doo, you missed out on several events, but the particular event that I speak of, is a certain beatdown issued to me and Caveman Chris here. You see, last Storm, we found ourselves hurting. We found ourselves hurting bad. We found ourselves resorting to medical assistance from fellow Carnie Z, who knows nada about being a doctor and whatnot. And do you know WHY!? Because we were viciously attacked by some members of the supposedly ‘Magnificent’ Seven. To make a long story short, the fiasco ended with a simple quip from I: a challenge, and a challenge to the Mag 7 at that. For you see lads and ladies, I myself challenged a selected two performers from the Magnificent Seven to wrestle the likes of Chris Raynor and I. Which two? What the heck do I care? All I want, is a piece of this Nazi troop that calls itself a stable. So, I diligently waited for a reply. The Carnies and I even played “Chutes and Ladders” to pass the time. However, by the time I had rocked my fellow Carnies a good 27 time, and found that 9 hours had passed, I found myself having doubts. So, I decided to stop waiting. I refuse to anticipate an answer any longer. I want an answer NOW. Who will the ultimate tag team, Chris Raynor and yours truly, the Crown Prince himself, be facing? Which two will become the undoubted fodder of some Carnie wrath when we meet in this very ring next Friday? I demand answers, and I demand them NOW.”

--- silence ---

Edwin: “NOW!”

--- silence ---

Edwin: “C'mon! I said I want them NOW you…”

A few eerie jingles of System of a Down’s “Toxicity” blare from the loudspeakers as discontinuously blinking black-lights invading the stadium. The familiar silhouette of Chris Wilson appears, sauntering from the backstage area and onto the stage with a microphone of his own within the grasp of his right hand. The music dies down, and Wilson speaks.

Wilson [a malicious smirk plastered on his face]: “Ed, I must tell you, you really need to realize that patience is a virtue. For you see my British friend, I myself have been contemplating the status quo of our chosen team also. And you know what Ed, I had decided to reveal our elected squad towards the end of the night. However, since you INSIST, I’ll give you a treat. That’s right. Why reveal our devastating duo later in the night, when we can do so, right here, right now? So, without further ado, the Magnificent Seven brings to you…”

Two hulking figures shuffle out onto the stage, positioning themselves on the left and right of Chris, as an immediate bombardment of boos crashes down onto the stage, flooding out Wilson’s announcement…

Wilson: “Frost, and Taylor Nicholas Thompson!”

Two pale, lavender spotlights elucidate the mysterious figures, revealing “TNT” Taylor Nicholas Thompson, and Frost, just as Wilson implied. Edwin stares in shock for a tick or two, but the awkward silence is soon broken, as both Eddie Mac and Chris Raynor chuckle a bit, and MacPhisto hands the microphone to a rather entertained Chris Raynor.

Raynor: “Is this a joke? We give out a challenge, and you answer with two green newcomers? We expected more of you my fellow Chris, we expected…”

Wilson: “Shut the FUCK up you dimwitted Smokey the Bear wannabe!”

Raynor: “I actually resent tha…”

Wilson: “You think this will be a walk in the park!? Well! You’re WRONG Chris! You’re WRONG! Hell, I’ll tell you what! Why wait? Why wait until Storm, why wait until Friday, why wait until we the actual match is booked!? I say, why wait, when we can tear you apart RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW!?!?”

*** THWACK ***

Riley [waking up from a small nap]: “Zuh? What happened?”

Stevens: “It’s the Boston Strangler! He just floored Edwin from behind with a steal chair!”

Raynor [shocked]: “What the…oof!”

Stevens: “And now Stryke and Danny Williams have taken down Chris Raynor from behind! Where the hell did they come from!?!?!?!”

Riley: “Woohoo! This is better than porn!”

*** THWACK ***

*** CRACK ***

*** SMACK ***

Strangler relentlessly pummels Edwin with his steel chair, driving it into MacPhisto’s side repeatedly, only easing up to thrust a toe-punt or two into the side of his head! Meanwhile, Danny Williams elbows Chris Raynor in the side of the head, as Christopher falls limply to the mat, and Stryke begins stomping at his mid-section!

Stevens: “This is three on two! What the hell are they thinking? And now the other three up at the top of the ramp are rushing down to join in on this gangbang…without the banging part that is.”

Riley: “And there’s Outcast, awaiting the trio with Thompson’s patented aluminum baseball bat!”

Outcast outstretches his arms to hand Taylor the shaft, as TNT snatches it away, and slides into the ring, immediately followed by his two stable mates! Wilson jogs over and joins TBS in his Edwin-exterminating ways, mutually trading the chair with Strangler back and forth, taking turns in bloodying the bruised MacPhisto. TNT meanwhile sadistically prances over to Chris Raynor, who is desperately fighting off Danno and Stryke with some rapid right hands of his own, and floors him to the mat with a stiff jab of the bat directly into the side of his forehead! A crimson mask begins forming on the face of Raynor, who lies on the ring apron motionless, choking in his own blood. Frost joins in this orgy of pain, following TNT’s lead, and falling to the mat beside Raynor, further sweltering his forehead with several lumbering blows.

Riley: “Oh, and I guess the moment was just TOO perfect. Here come the rest of those Carnie freaks.”

Stevens: “El Luchadore Magnifico and Z are sprinting down the aisle way to make the save! Even now it’s six to four, can they fend them off successfully?”

El Luchadore races around the side of the ring, chair in hand, sliding into the ring. ELM revs back with the lethal sitting device, and smashes it forward, cracking the chair right across the face of Chris Wilson! Wilson falls to the mat, immediately rolling from the ring, a single hand covering any visible wounds inflicted from the blow. Strangler spots Magnifico, dropping his respectable chair, and dashing at the Light-Heavyweight champion and spearing him to the mat! TBS delivers a succession of repeated right punches to the jaw of the lightweight Mexican, and then eases up a bit, withdrawing back towards Eddie Mac.

Stevens: “And TBS shows that he could really care less about the other Carnies, as right now he is thinking of Edwin, and only Edwin, who he will be facing later tonight!”

As the Strangler drops a few elbows into Edwin’s side, Stryke slumps over to the fallen Luchadore, pouncing atop the little guy with a searing leg drop. ELM rolls out of the way, narrowly dodging the plummeting Stryke, and edges over beside the Showstopper, driving a palm or two into the bridge of his nose. Z in the mean time, hops up to the ring apron, and begins to step through, as Outcast grabs a hold of his leg from behind! Z turns, propelling his foot into the head of the former Prophet, but just as he does, Danny Williams darts at him, impelling an extremely stiff elbow across the side of his jaw! A crimson ribbon of blood streaks from Z’s mouth as he lifelessly drops to the outskirts of the ring.

Riley: “Yeah Danno! Danny, as you’ll notice, uses a Puro-based style, with his signature elbows being quite affective. Hell, VERY affective.”

Stevens: “Z seems to be recovering however, and steadily has made his way to his feet, arm-grenading Outcast to the safety mats, and reentering the ring!”

Riley: “Z was just destroyed in one hit from Deathwish, Edwin is a bloody mess due to Strangler, and Raynor is barely alive over there with TNT and Frost!”

Stevens: “Maybe, but over on the M7 casualties list, we have Outcast and Wilson both unconscious, Stryke being handled by the stubborn Magnifico, and now Danny has been taken down by Z himself, making a fashionable entrance with a Lou Thesz Press, followed by some knuckles right above Dan’s eyebrow!”

Riley: “No matter how you try to phrase it, we’ve got three fresh M7 members kicking arse, while the Carnies posses a pitiful two.”

TBS eases Edwin to his knees, nailing him with various assortments of brawling maneuvers all while doing so, but finds himself in a very vulnerable state as Eddie nails him with a swift low blow! Strangler falls to his knees, but Edwin doesn’t have time to capitalize as a swarm of men in black suits invades the ring, immediately separating the two stables! TNT fends off three or four security guards with his bat, barely managing to nail Raynor with him baseball bat a final time! Frost plows through the guards like bowling pins, as both he and TNT flee the ring, collect a dazed and confused Wilson, and hop the guardrail, storming through the audience, disappearing into the ocean of negatively reacting fans. A few guards separate the brawling Z and Danny, but this only provokes Deathwish more as he hooks Z in a step-over facelock! Prying Danno off of Z, who persistently clasps onto the one-letter-wonder with the Deathlock, the guards pull out a stun gun type gizmo, stunning Williams at the arching point of his back! Danny immediately jolts to the ground, as the guards heave his metaphorical corpse to the backstage area, a pained Z not too far behind, as he holds his soar neck. TBS, now draped across Edwin and delivering some hurtful right hands, is yanked from the blood soaked MacPhisto by force, and hauled off, kicking and shouting rabidly, still wanting a piece of the crimson Carnie.

Stevens: “And the security is desperately trying to end this brawl, TBS is being carried to the back, along with Stryke and ELM, who are STILL attempting to attack one another! Outcast has found his way to his feet, and is slowly meandering up the ramp, as all that’s left are Chris Raynor, Edwin MacPhisto, and a few gallons of their blood! The horror!”

Riley: “The Magnificent 7 have made their point, and proven that Frost and TNT are not to be fucked with!”

Stevens: “Oh sure, in a seven-on-four affair!”

Riley: “Hey! Edwin started it!”

Stevens: “Ugh. We hope to have all of this cleared up after the commercial break, and hopefully these two will be able to perform 100% later in the night. Tune in next, as Mercury goes up against Frost!”

Riley: “AND tune in next Storm, to see Frost and TNT kick Raynor and MacPhisto’s asses! Bling bling! Snooch snooch snooch we’ll be back in a noonch!”

>insert advertisements for Thoth cereal [Thothios], Jay Dawg writing stationary [with worn out wigger sayings like “Yeah Dawg” and “In Da Hizzouse!” printed along the sides], and Cutthroat tampons [CT uses the best, and ONLY the best]<

July 16, 2002

The Card

Singles Match

Frost vs. Mercury

- Well, Frost warned that the SWF had better take notice of him when he challenged Jay Dawg to a Hardcore Title Match. Then, however, he lost the match, which could prove to be a huge setback for the big frosty man. However, he’s got a chance to redeem himself against the wiley veteran Mercury. A win in the show’s opening match could do wonders to get the big man the recognition he craves.

Singles Match

Xero vs. Lerrin Breggan

- Xero found Stubby backstage after Storm and complained about being underused and demanded to be booked on Smarkdown. Since Stubby was in a halfway decent mood, he decided to book Xero against his newest ally in Creative Control, Lerrin Breggan, in hopes that Breggan will beat Xero into submission once and for all. Lerrin’s history precedes him, but before he’s thrust into the spotlight, he must first get his feet wet against an angry Xero.

Tag Team Match

Chris Raynor/El Luchadore Magnifico vs. Tom Flesher/Fallout

- The Magnificent 7 brutally attacked the tag team champions at the top of Storm, leading to an open challenge for the tag titles on Storm next Friday. Also, the Clan’s Tom Flesher attacked ELM during his match on Storm, which brings us to this tag team encounter. Raynor and Fallout have never seen eye to eye, despite their respective stables’ alliance, and since Flesher and Magnifico seem to be on a PPV collision course, a tag match seems like the only logical way to go.

Bar Brawl/Hide N’ Seek Match for the SWF Hardcore Title

Jay Dawg© vs. Ash Ketchum

- No rest for the wicked here…On last week’s Smarkdown, Jay Dawg defeated Ash Ketchum for the hardcore title in one of the more brutal matches in recent memory, where he went as far as to powerbomb the Poke Freak’s pregnant girlfriend on the ringside floor. On Storm, Ketchum demanded vengeance for being screwed out of the hardcore title, and we guess for his girl being abused. After speaking with the SWF legal team, Stubby decided to grant Ash’s match with Dawg as a way to keep Ash from suing the company if Misty miscarries. With Ash’s hardcore abilities restored, will he be able to over come former 3-time US champ and former tag-champ Jay Dawg?

No-DQ Match

Thoth vs. Stryke

- Thoth and his tag partner, the returning Clan leader Spider Nekura, suffered an upset loss to M7’s Stryke and The Boston Strangler on Storm. Thoth, and the rest of the Clan, was less than thrilled about this setback, so Thoth demanded and received this match against one of the men in that match, Stryke.

Non-Title Three-Way Match

Edwin MacPhisto vs. The Boston Strangler vs. Spider Nekura

- The Magnificent 7 has been gunning for total domination of the SWF since they’re creation at Snake Eyes. Two stables currently stand in their way, the Midnight Carnival and The Clan. The alliance between those two stables is rocky at best, with one major point of concern being the beef and lack of trust between the leaders, Edwin MacPhisto and Spider Nekura. Nekura suffered an upset loss to Strangler and his buddy Stryke, and that, coupled with the other things mentioned, brings us to a huge main event. Can Strangler simply manhandle the SWF’s major competition to his stable? Will Spider and Edwin be able to coexist in a match where it’s perfectly ok for them to fight each other? Will that rocky alliance survive this huge main event?? Only time shall tell…

July 16, 2002

The camera fades back in from commercial to note an already tired and weathered looking Mark Stevens along with a giddy and smiling Bobby Riley.

Stevens: “For those of you just tuning in…”

Riley: “Fix your clock, the show started fifteen minutes ago.”

Stevens: “Tag team champions Edwin MacPhisto and Chris Raynor were viciously jumped and beaten by the Magnificent 7 at the start of our program. This was in answer to the open match challenge the two Midnight Carnival members laid at the feet of the Mag7, which will apparently be answered on Storm by the pairing of TNT and Frost.”

Riley punches a button on his personal monitor and the sounds of the tragic thrashing can be overheard once again. Bobby stares at the monitor with demonic glee.

Riley: “I could watch this all day and it’s not even porn. It’s like marveling at the ’85 Bears in the Super Bowl.”

Stevens: “The difference being that the Bears didn’t come here to start no trouble.”

Riley: “Yeah, but the Mag 7 are so bad, they no they’re good, blowing your minds like they knew they were.”

Stevens: “We’re quoting the ‘Super Bowl Shuffle’ and Stubby wonders why the ratings are dropping.”

Funyon pops into the ring, brilliant in blue, and brings the mics up to his lips to announce the first match to the roaring crowd.

Funyon: “Welcome to SWF SMARKDOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWN!”

The near capacity crowd pops wildly.

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

DUN…DUN…DUNDUNDUNDUN…DUN…DUN…DUN

Funyon: “Introducing first from Reykjavik, Iceland at a height of six feet seven inches and a weight of 296 pounds. He is the Iceman from Iceland, FRRRRROOOOOSSSSSSST!”

Frost steps out from behind the backstage curtain, already slightly perspiring from the part he played in the opening show beating, as “Cities on Flame with Rock ‘n Roll” blasts over the sound system. The fans mercilessly reign down jeers and epitaphs. Frost chuckles to himself as he makes his way down the ring ramp. He soaks in the crowd reaction and his huge chest swells with something along the lines of pride.

Stevens: “Frost lost a very intense and very hardcore encounter on Storm against Hardcore Champion Jay Dawg in a steel cage, despite a great effort.”

Riley: “That might be the frost giant’s Achilles heel as he has never won a cage match. And a good showing will only win you Miss Congeniality, something I don’t think Frost would be in line for anyway.”

Frost steps over the top ring rope with a wide stride and proceeds to stretch out in the upper right corner.

“…one last disguise…”

The house lights dim to black and are replaced by flashing blue strobes that ignite the crowd with cheering. “Spy Hunter” by Project 86 bounces about the auditorium as highlights of Mercury’s successful career plays out on the Smarktron overhead. The Regenerate King finally steps from the backstage area with his arms crossed at the wrists in front of him in the Regeneration X symbol. The fans scream even louder, if one thought that could be possible, and Mercury trots down the ring ramp.

Funyon: “And his opponent from Los Angeles, California, standing at six foot three inches tall and weighing in at 233 lbs. He is the Regenerate KING…MER…CUR… YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!”

The hearing of his name powers Mercury and his well paced jog down the aisle builds to a full blown run. He slides under the bottom ring rope and vaults to his feet to jump to the second turnbuckle in the bottom left ring corner with his arms out for the fans to get a good look at.

Suddenly, Frost sneaks up from behind Mercury and steps under the man with his head between Merc’s legs. Mercury’s eyes go wide at the surprise ambush as he is dropped backwards to the canvas and referee Anthony Michael Hall calls for the bell.

DING DING DING

Stevens: “Frost gets the edge on Mercury with an electric chair drop as he was soaking in the adulation of the fans.”

Riley: “Never play to the fans, they’re nothing but trouble. You never see me doing stuff like that for my fans.”

Stevens: “All three of them.”

Frost skips to his feet in a swinging motion and then allows gravity to drop him back down on Mercury’s chest with a pounding elbow. Frost hooks the leg and covers.

ONE!

TWO!

Mercury is stunned, but not out and easily kicks loose.

Stevens: “Frost goes for the early pin, not wasting any time.”

Riley: “Frost seems more focused and no-nonsense than usual. He probably feels he needs to make up for the lost to Jay Dawg last week.”

Frost climbs to his feet while pulling Mercury up by the sides of his head. He grips the man by his wrist and whips him into the far ropes. Mercury turns to take the strands on his back and he bounces out charging toward Frost who has his arm extended for a clothesline. Mercury baseball slides under Frost’s sinewy appendage and rolls into a crouch behind him. He shoots an arm up through the big man’s legs and slings him back off balance to the canvas.

ONE!

TWO!

Frost flips out of the move and takes his feet as Mercury charges for the far ropes.

Stevens: “Mercury dodges the clothesline and scores a schoolboy for a near fall of his own.”

Riley: “Neither man is wasting anytime looking for the quick win. Do they need to end this so they can watch the ‘Dirty Dozen’ in the back or what?”

Mercury skips up to the second ring rope and springboards off with his legs out for a dropkick. Frost wraps his left arm around the nearby top rope and pulls himself back. Mercury misses the move by only inches and crashes to the mat on his back. Frost releases the rope and falls forward with a diving headbutt to Merc’s midsection. Frost twists over to lay back first on top of Mercury and tries to cradle his leg for a pin.

ONE!

TWO!

Mercury kicks out with undeniable force and rolls over to his side and away from Frost.

Stevens: “Frost was unable to hook the leg quite right and that led to an easy kick out for Mercury.”

Riley: “This match is moving so fast it’s giving me whiplash. Hey…I wonder if I could sue Stubby for that.”

Frost clambers to his feet and lurches after Mercury, who slips to the floor. Hall starts his count out as Frost reaches over the ropes to grab Mercury by the top of his head. Merc’ takes both of Frost’s ankles in his hands and yanks him off his feet. Mercury extends Frost’s left leg over the ring apron with his knee lying flush against the ring edge. Mercury drives an elbow into the knee and Frost kicks Mercury in the shoulder with his other leg. Merc’ stumbles back and brushes up against the guardrail as Frost slides to the floor himself and Hall restarts his ring out count.

Stevens: “The action spills to the floor like one of Bobby’s drinks after he’s had one too many.”

Riley: “I told you I’m cutting back. I’ve stopped drinking in the shower all together.”

(One) Frost tries to shock Mercury with a shoulder block, but the faster man dodges out of the way and Frost bangs into the steel guardrail chest first. (Two) Mercury springs up to the apron facing the ring. He leaps off and backwards with a corkscrew as Frost straightens up to his full height and turns around. (Three) Frost catches the flying grappler in his arms on the body press attempt and flips him up and over with deft precision to smash him over his knee. (Four) Frost stands up with a hand under Mercury’s shoulder and he roughly throws him back under the bottom ring rope. (Five) Frost rolls back in himself and Hall breaks the count.

Stevens: “Frost counters the corkscrew plancha with a tilt-a-whirl backbreaker to regain the advantage.”

Riley: “Frost might come off like a lumbering oaf, but he has the reflexes of a cat.”

Stevens: “What kind of slow, old pussy have you been hanging out with?”

Mercury rolls lazily across the canvas to the center of the ring on his back. Frost scurries over and flops on top of him for a cover.

ONE!

TWO!

THRE-

Stevens: “Mercury gets his shoulder up at the last instant. He’s not out of this by a long shot.”

Riley: “Yeah? Want to put some money on the match.”

Frost rises up to his knees and Mercury woozily sits up. Frost positions himself behind Merc’ and clamps on a rear chinlock to wear the wrestler down.

Stevens: “I don’t think gambling on national t.v. would be smart.”

Riley: “Ah, so you admit Mercury is going to lose.”

Frost grinds in the chinlock as the ref crouches down in front of Mercury to check on his consciousness. Frost extends his lengthy frame to place a foot on the ropes for extra leverage and the audience cuts loose with a severe berating. Frost takes his foot off the ropes just as Hall cranes his neck around to see what the fans were jeering about. Hall returns to watching Mercury and Frost places his foot back on the ropes while mocking the crowd with a bellowing laugh.

Stevens: “I’m not saying Mercury is going to lose, I just don’t want to bet. It’s not the professional thing to do.”

Riley: “I’ll give your boy ten to one odds.”

Stevens: “Ten to one? Hmm….”

Mercury throws his arms out and waves them wildly trying to build some sort of energy to power out. Frost cranks on the hold and steals every bit of leverage he can. Mercury shakes with untapped vitality as the crowd provides more power to him through their enthusiastic cheering.

Stevens: “The Regenerate King is living up to his name as he rises out of this chinlock like a Phoenix from the ashes.”

Riley: “Uh…let’s cut that to 5-1 odds or so.”

Mercury miraculously powers out, forcing Frost to stand up with him and shift the move into a side headlock. Mercury pulls Frost forward and he walks up the ropes to flip over the man’s head and out of the hold to a thunderous pop from the fans. Mercury lays his forearms into Frost’s back and pushes the startled grappler into the ropes. Frost hooks the top rope with both arms and stands fast as Mercury smashes back to the mat alone in trying to flip Frost over in a roll up attempt. Mercury somersaults back over to his feet like an acrobat and plants himself on his left leg. Frost lets go of the ropes and turns around to attack Mercury, who gets the best of him once again with a spinning heel kick to the jaw. Frost tumbles back into the ropes and Mercury bounds up onto Frost’s bent knees and grabs him around the skull to monkey flip him over to the mat with a splat.

Riley: “BET’S OFF! BET’S OFF!”

Stevens: “There was no bet. Although you shouldn’t have counted Mercury out so early as he uses his speed and agility to make the comeback.”

Mercury measures Frost while hunched over with his hands on his knees. Frost staggers up like a punch drunk fighter and Mercury juts out with a thrust kick aimed for the big man’s jaw. Frost puts his hands up to block the blow and winds up grabbing the foot. Mercury hops up and down three times to build some momentum and then flips himself over on his free leg to rock Frost with a kick to the back of the head.

Stevens: “And here’s the cover off of the enzuigiri.”

ONE!

TWO!

THRE-

Frost slaps a limp leg over the nearby bottom rope to break the cover.

Riley: “You know I liked that move much better when it was called the ghetto blaster. THAT sounds like it would funk your stuff up.”

Mercury wastes no time or motion getting to his feet. Frost rolls over to his stomach and pushes himself up by his arms while shaking his head to knock the cobwebs loose. Mercury leans down to rip Frost’s left arm out from under him and brings him to his feet in a hammerlock.

Stevens: “Funk your stuff up?”

Riley: “Damn censors! Why can’t we cut a deal with the Playboy channel? Swearing and hooters all in one show.”

Mercury continues to pull up on the hammerlock while twisting Frost’s body around to get a front facelock under his left arm. Mercury pulls up on the hammerlocked arm as much as he can while simultaneously dropping back to the mat to spike Frost’s head into the canvas with a DDT.

Stevens: “THE PIPEDREAM! THIS COULD BE IT!”

Mercury covers and hooks the leg while the fans frenziedly pop.

ONE!

TWO!

THRE-

Frost lifts his shoulder and rolls to his right to knock Mercury off.

Riley: “Ok, I’ll take Mercury now, you can have Frost.”

Mercury springs to his feet, feeling the adrenaline rushing through his veins. He bends over to pull Frost up by the sides of his head and folds him back at the waist to snake an arm across his throat.

Stevens: “THE DRAGON SLEEPER! THE SET UP FOR THE EVILUTION!”

Mercury goes to twirl Frost around into a neckbreaker, but the Icelandic Iceman shakes loose out of the hold on the upswing and deftly wraps an arm up under Mercury’s armpit to lift him up and slam him with authority to the canvas.

Stevens: “FROST COUNTERS WITH THE ICE SHELF!”

Riley: “Ok, I’ve got Frost, you take Mercury.”

Breathing hard, Frost drapes a limp arm on Mercury for the cover.

ONE!

TWO!

THRE-

Mercury lifts a shoulder and turns to his right to break.

Stevens: “NO! MERCURY IS NOT GIVING UP YET! THIS MATCH HAS BEEN NON-STOP ACTION!”

Riley: “*cough-chinlock-cough*”

Both men wobble unsteadily to their feet, sucking wind and soaked in sweat. Frost achieves his feet first and shoves Mercury’s head between his legs while he is still bent over. Frost reaches down and double underhooks Mercury’s arms.

Stevens: “EARLY WINTER! IF HE HITS THIS IT’S OVER!”

Frost takes an extra second to muster up the strength to lift Mercury up, but it’s a second he can’t afford as Merc’ shoots his body up and backdrops Frost out of the hold. The fans explode as Mercury collapses to the mat.

Stevens: “MY GOD! MERCURY BACKDROPS OUT OF THE EARLY WINTER! WHERE DID HE FIND THE STRENGTH?!”

Riley: “*hack-steroids-hack*”

Frost scoots around on his back and grabs the nearby second rope to pull himself up. Mercury sways up to his feet and trips shakily about the ring. Frost wanders over to spin Mercury around by his shoulder and drives him back into the near corner with a series of European uppercuts. Mercury slumps in the turnbuckles dazed. Frost takes the man by his right wrist and slings him across the ring with an Irish whip. Mercury thumps into the corner with such force that he ricochets out and goes reeling across the ring back toward Frost who lumbers out to meet him. Frost shoves the man’s head between his legs and hooks his arms again. This time he flips Mercury up against his chest in one fluid motion to not allow him the opportunity to backdrop out of the maneuver. However, Frost has to halt for a second to re-cinch Mercury from hoisting him up so fast and that gives him the chance to wrap his legs around Frost’s head and rana him over to the canvas. Mercury sits on top with his legs trapped around Frost’s cranium for the pin.

ONE!

TWO!

THRE-

Frost brings his arms up in front of Mercury’s shoulders and uses his raw strength to push him over to the mat in a makeshift sunset flip.

ONE!

TWO!

THRE-

Mercury unwraps his legs from behind Frost’s head and whaps him in the ears to earn the break. Mercury rolls over to his feet as Frost falls on his back from the shot.

Stevens: “Frost counters the near fall on the rana with a near fall of his own. Business is definitely picking up.”

Riley: “If business picked up anymore in this match, we could buy Microsoft.”

Mercury slides behind Frost and lifts up his right arm while enfolding his chin with his right leg. Mercury locks his left leg in front of the right to form a figure “4” pattern around Frost’s head. Mercury falls back to the canvas, squeezing Frost’s head and wrenching up on his arm.

Riley: “Looks like some sort of leg lock sleeperhold with a modified crucifix armbar.”

Stevens: “A triangle hold, a submission technique preferred by technical wrestlers with a shootfighting or amateur background.”

Riley: “Go back to reading ‘Wrestling for Dummies’ and leave me alone.”

Frost kicks his feet trying to land the ropes, but he is about three inches short. Mercury squashes the blood flow to Frost’s brain and tries his best to pull the grappler’s arm out its socket. One can see Frost’s face turning blue as his arm glows beat red from the strain.

Riley: “My money’s on Mercury now, right?”

Stevens: “STOP TALKING ABOUT THIS BET! THERE IS NO BET!”

Riley: “Just because your boy Frost is losing is no reason to get snippy with me.”

Frost attempts to flip over to his side, but Mercury holds him fast with his left knee as a brace against the mat. Frost’s eyes flutter shut and the referee raises Frost’s free left arm to judge his consciousness. It falls once and the fans roar with approval. Hall lifts the arm again and it drops limp a second time.

Stevens: “One more time and Mercury will have the knockout victory.”

Riley: “C’mon Merc, daddy needs a new pair of shoes.”

Hall holds the arm up in the air for an extra second before letting it fall and it hovers scant inches above the mat before slowly rising up above Frost’s head. His eyes fly open, bulging out of his head with intensity and spit foaming at the corners of his gritty mouth.

Stevens: “I can’t believe that Frost is fighting out of this. He has inhuman perseverance.”

Riley: “Two losses in a row are too much for him to stomach and he feels he has a lot to prove to the powers that be, especially with that big tag match on the horizon. I know how to pick a winner; I’ve been pulling for him the whole match.”

Frost drags himself forward with all of his hidden lower body strength to put his feet on the bottom rope to break the near inescapable hold. Mercury lets loose at the ref’s insistence and immediately rockets to his feet. Frost follows suit with relit fire. Mercury tries to cut Frost short with a well timed thrust kick, but Frost once again catches the foot in midair. Mercury flips himself over for another enzuigiri, but Frost just manages to duck his head this time and grabs his other foot with his free hand. Mercury tries to steady himself on his hands as Frost heaves the grappler’s legs over. Mercury rolls with the maneuver to flip onto his feet and pivots around to face Frost. However, Frost threw Mercury’s equilibrium off enough so that he could side step his opponent and lift up his left arm to fire a heart punch directly into the side of his chest.

Stevens: “TOUCH OF FROST AND THAT USUALLY LEADS TO ONE THING!”

Riley: “HE’S GOT MERC’ STUNNED THIS TIME WITH A SET-UP MOVE, SO THE EARLY WINTER SHOULD HIT!”

Frost forcefully bends Mercury over and claps his head between his legs. Frost hooks the elbows and twists Mercury up against his chest before violently slamming him down with a back shattering powerbomb.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

DING DING DING

Riley: “I knew it, cough up the money Mark.”

Stevens: “I don’t think so.”

Riley: “Cheapskate. The only Grand Slam you’re worthy of being named after is a cheap breakfast at Denny’s.”

Frost slips out of the ring and raises his arm triumphantly in the air to mock the rabid audience.

Funyon: “Here is your winner by pinfall…FRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSSST!”

Mercury sits up wheezing in the ring, disappointed at the loss, but no one can fault his tremendous effort. Frost limps exhausted, but enthusiastic, up the aisle way.

Stevens: “And Frost struts up the ring ramp with renewed confidence from this impressive victory.”

Riley: “Would you say that Frost is just strutting for fun?”

Stevens: (with a sigh) “You’re going to be the death of me.”

Riley: “I can only hope.”

Fade out to commercial.

July 16, 2002

“OWWWEEE!”

“See? I told you, Z! The peroxide bloody burns!”

“Fine! Fine! I’m sorry I ever doubted you!” The Midnight Carnival sits in the locker room, battered and bruised by the Magnificent Seven, for what? The fourth time, now? The fifth? Z shakes out his neck and nurses a scrape on his arm. “Oof…does being in the Carnival always mean getting beaten up like this?”

“No,” mumbles Chris Raynor, holding an ice bag to his face. “This is a bull period, even for us…ouch…”

“Esse, Z…you are lucky. At least you have some extra padding for the blocking of fists,” says El Luchadore Magnifico with a twinge. “Me, I am all the skin and bones…oof…”

“…we say ‘oof’ a lot, don’t we?”

“Yes, Edwin,” says Chris Raynor. “Yes, we do.” There is a silence in the room but for a few pained grunts as Doctor Z fiddles with the self-diagnosis of hydrogen peroxide and isopropyl alchohol.

Then, Edwin MacPhisto stands up.

“Gentlemen…I have come to a decision.” The Carnies look up from their wounds. “We’re ending this. Chris…you know what I’m talking about, don’t you?”

Raynor’s eyes widen. “…I thought you were joking.”

“No, Chris. I’m very serious, for once. I’ve been thinking lately. We can’t be burdened by the Magnificent Seven anymore. They’ve had our number at every turn, no matter what title belts we grab, no matter what matches we win. It’s always the bloody same! Punch, kick, tire iron, Last Breath…I’m getting quite tired of it, if you couldn’t tell!”

“I could tell, Edwin.” Edwin shoots a look at Z, who goes back to his peroxidizing.

“We start it on Storm. You and me, Chris,” continues Edwin. “Against Frost and TNT, apparently. Wonderful. A stone-faced giant and a rookie who’s cockamamey enough to do anything to get gold…we start there. We start it on Storm. And we end it…at Ground Zero.”

“Oh. Oh. OH.” Z is having a mild conniption. “Chris, this isn’t…it’s not…that thing we were talking about--”

“That’s it, Z,” chimes Edwin, cutting him off with a grin, pacing over to him, swaggering like the wrestling equivalent of General George S. Patton. “What you’ve heard is true. Look: Rotten’s out. I got a call from the trainer this morning. Remember Danny Williams and his fifteen-elbow assault on Storm? Yeah. He broke Rotten’s nose, and they won’t give him medical clearance for a month. Who’s going to be next? You? Me? Any of us? We’re like tomatoes in a field full of tomato-hungry monster men, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to be de-stemmed anytime soon!”

“Uh…Edwin…you’re spitting on me…”

“Oh. Oh! Sorry! I get carried away and all.” Edwin takes a deep breath. “So, you’re all with me on this, right? On Storm…we lay down the law, once and for all. Chris?”

“What the hell. I’m in.”

“Mag?”

“…si, senor. Ay, there’s going to be some serious dolor en nuestras cabeza…”

“All right. I have no idea what you just said, but I approve wholeheartedly.” Edwin turns one more time. “Z? It’s all for one, and one for all. We’re all in…or nobody is.”

“Jeez, Edwin, I…I…you really want me in on this?”

“Totally.”

“…and not just so I end up taking all the punishment?”

Edwin grins. “That’s…a very small part of it.”

Doctor Z puts down his heap of gauze and peroxide and looks across the faces of his new friends. “All for one…and one for oh my god we are going to get killed guys don’t you realize--”

“Z! Z! Calm down!” Edwin laughs. “We’re not going to get killed. Isn’t that right, Chris?”

Raynor gives Z an enthusiastic pat on the back. “Just crippled, Z. Juuuust crippled.”

And we cut to commercial on the wide-eyed face of Z, who realizes that, at Ground Zero, he’s really going to be initiated into the Carnival, and he’ll be doing it with sweat, tears, tenacity…

…and blood.

July 16, 2002

*** Deep inside the halls of the Richmond Coliseum, Ben Hardy stands with Tod deKindes, who's leaning against the wall, his face buried in his arms. ***

Ben: I'm here with Tod deKindes, and Tod … tough break last Friday night.

*** Video highlights are shown for those who weren't with us last Friday. ***

Ben: You lost a match against Longdogger Pete, who you've claimed to be one of your big influences in your career. What are your thoughts?

*** He stands up straight, releasing a half silent sigh. He removes his silver shades from his forehead, folds them up and puts them in his pocket. He turns around and faces the interviewer. He seems a little upset. ***

Tod: Ben Hardy, master of the obvious … Yeah, I LOST last Friday night!! I got dropped on my head and I got counted down; 1 - 2 - 3!! …

Ben: Well, y'know, it's ok … (Tod shoots him a look) Cuz y'know, you lose some and you win some.

Tod: If you knew me, Ben Hardy, you would know that losing is NOT in my vocabulary! Which is WHY I don't seem in a very good MOOD at the moment!!

Ben: But nonetheless, you've challenged Longdogger Pete for a rematch next Friday; and if I recall, you've mentionned something about "not being the way you wanted things to go". What's up with THAT?

*** Tod goes to answer him, but he diverts his attention as he sees someone arriving behind Ben. Camera pans over to reveal Longdogger Pete himself … ***

Tod: What do you want?

Pete: First of all, quit your whining. I didn't get to where I am today by complaining about a loss, neither did Ask Ketchum, neither did Erek Taylor! If you wanna run with us, kid, then I highly suggest that you get your crap together and focus on WINNING! Last Friday, you underestimated me, Tod. You were too confident and you thought you had me beat. I just seized the opportunity and ran with the ball. Next Friday, we have another go at it. Now I'm not too big on giving second chances, but next Friday, I'm *giving* you a second chance. Don't mess it up.

Tod: … Tell you what, Pete. Let's make things interesting … If you win next Friday: we all go our separate ways and you forget we even talked. But if *I* win … (allows himself a chuckle before resuming)

Pete: What?

Tod: If I win, Pete, then I get to fulfill my dream and become an official member of XF9.

Ben: Well, that seems pretty good, I mean if he beats you, Pete then he sure would've earned a place in --…

*** Both men shoot him a "Did we ASK you??" look … Ben promptly shuts up. ***

Pete: Sounds pretty interesting. If I win, you leave us alone. If you win … yeah, we'll make you XF9. You got it.

*** Tod has heard what he wanted to hear and quietly backs out of the camera shot, leaving Ben alone with the also departing Pete … ***

Ben: Should be a promising match for Storm this Friday, Tod deKindes and LDP, one more time. Back to ringside

July 16, 2002

SWF Smarkdown comes back from commercial to show the Richmond Coliseum filled to capacity for this wrestling event. The crowd is going wild, ready for some more fast paced action from the superstars here in attendance tonight. “Welcome back to Smarkdown,” greets “Grand Slam” Mark Stevens. “What an opening match we just had huh Riley?”

Bobby Riley scoffs at the comment. “Well lets see here, Mercury and I have had a long history, going all the way back to the creation of the Junior League. I know he has nothing, I’ve proved it many times.”

“If I remember my history correctly, you used to tag with him when you moved up to the WF didn’t you Riley?” Stevens inquires of his announcing partner.

“Yeah,” answers Riley reluctantly. “But you can’t blame me for being young and stupid now can you?” Stevens just shakes his head at the arrogance being emitted from the former wrestler. “And hell, JAY Dawg beat Frost! Enough said there. Put those two together in the ring and you get mediocre at best!”

“Did you even watch the match?” Stevens wonders, a bit annoyed already.

“Well yeah, but I could have done better!” Riley shoots back as Funyon enters the ring. “Every match I was in was four stars!”

“Yeah, especially the five way regenerate rules match where I beat you for the title!” Stevens reminds the other man, who gives him a very angry glare. “Fair and square, but it looks like Funyon is about ready to start us up for the next match! We get to see old time veteran Xero take on the newcomer Lerrin Breggan! Two total style clashes, if Lerrin wrestles like he did last Storm against TNT.”

“He didn’t really wrestle Mark, he dominated. I like this kid, but I do have to admit that starting him against such a seasoned vet is really going to give us a show of what he’s worth,” agrees Riley.

Funyon raises the mike, ready to speak. “Ladies and gentlemen, the next match is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, standing at 6 feet 1 inch, weighing in at 199 pounds, hailing from Port Colborne Ontario Canada, XEROOOOOOOOOO!!”

The crowd begins to boo as the lights go out. “Master of Puppets” by Metallica begins to play. After a few seconds, the music fades to black. Suddenly the chorus starts to play and the words are heard "OBEY YOUR MASTER!" Xero emerges from the dark, as "Master of Puppets" is played again. Red fireworks explode from each side, as Xero heads down towards the ring to some loud hisses from the fans. He ignores their response and heads straight for the squared circle and enters. He moves to his corner while the lights come back on and awaits his opponent.

“Definite game face from the veteran,” Stevens points out. “He looks ready for this match, to show that he still has it.”

“We’ll definitely see here in a little bit! I am excited to see how the new guy works out,” Riley acknowledges.

“Introducing next, standing at 6 feet 4 inches, weighing in at 285 pounds, hailing from Cincinnati Ohio, newest member of Creative Control, LERRRRRRIN BREGGAN!!” announces Funyon as the crowd breaks out into boos.

The lights disappear as Do or Die’s “Victory” blasts out over the arena. A few seconds go by, then the stage is lit up by a huge explosion of white pyro as the music picks up. When the explosion finishes, Lerrin Breggan can be seen standing on the center of the entrance ramp, glaring directly at the ring. He stalks towards the squared circle, ignoring everything around him. He slides in under the bottom rope and goes to his corner while the lights illuminate the arena once more, giving Funyon a chance to vacate the area.

“Impressive entrance by the newcomer, but we’ll see if he can follow it up!” Steven quickly gets out as the bell rings to start the match.

Lerrin immediately charges at his opponent, getting up a pretty decent head of steam. Xero reacts quickly and dodges to the side, letting the big man slam chest-first into the corner. Lerrin stumbles back a few steps as Xero takes advantage of the situation and nails a big Dropkick to the face, but the Creative Control member stays on his feet. Xero stands and charges forward with a Clothesline, but again Breggan still stands. The veteran shakes his head and bounces off the opposite ropes then comes back.

He goes for a Cross Body, but this time Breggan is prepared. Lerrin catches the other guy in midair and grins, knowing he has his opponent at his mercy. He grunts as he presses the 200 pound human being over his head, showing a nice display of strength. The crowd gasps and Lerrin quickly drops Xero behind him, falling nearly 7 feet to the unforgiving canvas of the ring. Xero quickly rolls to the outside, clutching at his midsection which took most of the impact. Breggan circles inside the ring, taunting the long time SWF wrestler to come back for some more.

“One nice move and this guy thinks he is something,” Stevens remarks. “I can already see his arrogance being his downfall.”

“Or it could be the catalyst to a great career! Just look at me!” Riley grins, thinking about his old matches. “Damn, I was good!” Mark just scowls at his partner, wondering just how this pairing happened.

The referee holds Lerrin back as Xero cautiously reenters the ring. The vet shrugs his shoulders, getting ready for some more action as Lerrin finally gets the ref out of his way. The rookie storms towards Xero, and once again he reaches the same result. Xero quickly drops to the mat and executes a Drop-Toe Hold, forcing Lerrin to fall down and catch his neck on the top rope. He bounces back and falls flat on his back, giving Xero an opportunity for the early pin attempt, which he takes. The ref falls and begins the count.

ONE… Lerrin powers out, tossing Xero nearly half way across the ring to a large boo from the fans.

“Xero’s speed might be too much for Creative Control’s recruit to handle,” Stevens comments.

Xero quickly stands, as does Lerrin. This time, Xero takes the first move and rushes at Lerrin. The light-heavyweight flies in with a jumping Spinning Heel Kick, which connects squarely, knocking Lerrin down to a knee. Xero quickly gets up, but is leveled by a monstrous Clothesline from the larger wrestler to some more loud boos. Breggan, his face wiped clean of the cocky grin he has held throughout most of this match, immediately brings Xero to his feet and puts him into a front facelock. He pulls him up and holds him straight in the air, then spins around in a circle. After a few rotations, the two men come crashing down to the mat after a beautiful Corkscrew Suplex from Breggan.

The amateur gets up and throws his arms into the air, getting a huge blast of boos from the audience. He points out to them, then down at his fallen opponent. He nails a hard stomp to Xero’s chest, then flexes, his arms and his arrogance. Xero goes to stand, but Lerrin is right there to help him up. He goes to wrap his arms around Xero, but the vet reacts quickly and hits an elbow to the face. Lerrin staggers back a few steps, giving Xero room to hit him square in the jaw with a nice Superkick, forcing Lerrin to retreat even more. Xero, not backing down one bit, grabs Breggan’s arm and goes for the irish whip, but it gets reversed and he is sent hurtling towards the ropes. He bounces and comes back, right into Lerrin’s clutches. The big man pulls Xero off the ground and tosses him back down, hitting a stiff Single-Arm Spinebuster to take control back in the match.

“Damn his strength and durability are huge,” Stevens notes. “Xero is having a hell of a time trying to take him down, and it doesn’t even seem like the big man is wearing down!”

”I agree,” Riley adds in. “Physically, Lerrin Breggan is just a monster. I don’t see much Xero can do to get a quick win here. He is just going to have to outlast him, and try not to trade blows. If he can get his ring knowledge and superior speed to work for him, he might have a chance. Otherwise, Lerrin is just going to overpower him and get the clean victory in his debut match.”

Lerrin stretches his jaw a bit, feeling the effects of the repeated attacks. He growls loudly, getting another set of boos from the fans as he brings Xero up once more. Breggan grabs Xero’s arm and whips him across the ring. The veteran runs back at his opponent and ducks under a Clothesline attempt from Lerrin, bounces off the back ropes and comes back again. Lerrin counters the quickness of Xero by grabbing him and spinning 180 degrees, then crashing him to the mat with a devastating Powerslam. The crowd lets out some more loud boos as Lerrin pops back to his feet, not even going for the pin attempt here.

“What is he doing?” questions Grand Slam. “I just don’t understand the logic here! He could have gotten the win with a move like that, but once again I see his arrogance holding him down!”

“Maybe he knows that this is his first chance to show everyone that he has something, and he wants to take full advantage of it,” Riley replies. “This could be Creative Control’s strategy, let the big man go out there and show off his repertoire of moves to let everyone in the back see what they’re up against! Hell Stevens, mind games are the best way to get easy victories!”

Lerrin smirks, getting full of himself again. He drops a stiff elbow to Xero’s chest and goes back to a standing position. The longtime wrestler rolls around on the mat, feeling the effects of the multiple attacks on his torso taking effect. The rookie walks around his prey, just enjoying the pain his victim is feeling as the crowd’s distaste for the situation is being heard very audibly now. They want him to do something, anything, and stalling is his way to show them that he is in control of the match, not them.

After a small time, Xero finally begins to climb his way back to his feet, and gets there uninterrupted. The high flyer turns to find his enemy, but is greeted with a stiff kick to the gut, forcing him to double over. Lerrin pulls him in for a Powerbomb and cackles. He pulls Xero up in the center of the ring, but doesn’t expect what is going to happen next! Xero locks his legs around Breggan’s neck and whips him over, countering the power move with a Hurricanrana! The big man lands near the corner, shoulders hitting the mat extremely hard. With both men lying down, the ref has to start the count.

ONE…

“What a beautiful way to get back into the match,” Stevens compliments Xero. “I don’t know how long it will keep the monster down, but it will give him some time to recover from the brutal attacks! If he can speed this match up, I could see it going into his favor!”

TWO…

THREE…

“That’s the only way he is going to be able to come back,” Riley agrees.

FOUR… Breggan begins to stir, moving at normal speed.

FIVE… Lerrin is up to his feet, ending the count.

Xero, seeing his opponent back up, jumps to his feet in a notable display of athleticism. The two men rush at each other, with Xero gaining the advantage and nailing Lerrin in the leg with a Diving Shoulder Ram. Lerrin falls to one knee again, but Xero is right on top of him. He locks in a front facelock and pulls him up and over for a Vertical Suplex, right on the money to the middle of the squared circle. The crowd cheers a little bit for the longtime heel and big time underdog as he jumps back to his feet. Xero kicks Breggan square in the head, trying to keep him down for a while.

Lerrin rolls onto his chest, trying to protect his face as Xero’s eyes light up. The veteran quickly locks his feet under Lerrin’s legs, then gives him a pair of painful kidney punches. Breggan arches back, allowing Xero to lock hands under his chin, putting him successfully into a Mexican Stretch submission. The newcomer yells out in pain, arms flailing in every direction as the fans begin to cheer!

“This could be it right here,” Stevens marks out. “Lerrin Breggan is what must seem like miles away from the ropes being held in that painful submission move. Maybe he isn’t what Creative Control thought he was!”

“There is no shame in losing to a seasoned warrior like Xero, as he is one of the longtime members of our grand federation!” Riley justifies. “But yes, if he does lose right now, his career could be a very short one! I know Stubby, and he doesn’t tolerate failure very well!”

The ref continues to question Lerrin if he submits, but the big man screams no every time. Xero pulls back as hard as he can, trying to wrench the back and neck of the novice. Lerrin’s arms crash down to the canvas in a whirlwind of desperation, but they both hit at the same time and he abruptly stops panicking. Breggan plants both hands on the mat and pushes himself up, then kicks his legs out, using his sheer strength to break the hold and fling Xero a few feet in the opposite direction.

“My god, did you just see that Riley?” Stevens asks his partner. “What a display of raw power!”

“Yeah I saw that! I don’t quite believe it, but I saw it,” Riley returns the comment. “I honestly thought it was over right there!”

Both men get up at the same time, glaring holes in the other. Lerrin takes the first step at his opponent, using more caution this time. Xero anticipates the attack and goes for a high Roundhouse, but Lerrin catches him mid-move, in perfect position for a heavy suplex. He throws Xero up and back, T-Boning the veteran into a very agonizing impact. Lerrin growls, showing a little bit of tenderness in his neck but is still as aggressive as ever. He moves over to his fallen adversary, then stomps him in the chest, trying to wear down the torso as much as possible.

The massive human then wraps his hands around Xero’s neck with room to spare, then pulls him to his feet with frightening ease. He pushes the lightweight into the corner, then roars as he spins around and lobs Xero across the ring, damn near into the opposite corner. Lerrin grins broadly now, clearly happy with his current situation. He slowly approaches his opponent and gives him a strong boot to the chest for good measure. Xero rolls away, towards the middle of the ring but it gets him nothing. Lerrin is right there to lift him to his feet, then locks in a submission move. Xero screams out in pain as Breggan pushes his head forward from the Full Nelson position, giving the smaller man no leverage to work with.

“This could snap Xero’s neck at any moment,” cries Stevens. “Especially when someone as powerful as Lerrin Breggan is executing the move!”

“I don’t know if this is meant to make Xero submit,” Riley puts in. “I think he is trying to work on Xero’s neck and shoulders for some big move coming up later in the match. Even if he wants Xero to submit, I don’t see it. I can’t remember the last time someone submitted to a full nelson!”

Stevens shrugs. “You never know Riley. Maybe you have never seen someone like Breggan put the move on! I bet the pain has to be excruciating for Xero!”

The ref checks to see if Xero gives up, but he gets a resounding no as Xero yells, either showing a lot of heart or expressing his pain. Breggan pours it on, seeming to feed off the negative emotions of his opponent and the increasingly louder chants from the fans. “ASSHOLE” chants can be heard throughout the arena, the fans obviously picking sides in this heel verse heel match-up. After a few more seconds, Xero finally tries something to make Lerrin relinquish the hold. He kicks his legs back, hitting Breggan squarely in the shins, but the big man keeps his grip.

He lifts Xero off the ground and stalls. Xero flails sporadically but the Creative Control recruit continues the move without fault. He powers Xero to the canvas with incredible force, shaking the ring, causing even more damage to the veteran’s shoulders and neck. Breggan stamps his feet in joy as the crowd boos heavily once more.

“I’ve said it a lot already, but I can’t get over this extraordinary display of brawn by the new man,” Stevens repeats his earlier statements. “He should just go for the pin right now and end the match; I don’t think Xero will be coming back from that gigantic Full Nelson Slam.”

“All I can say is that I’m glad I wasn’t on the receiving end of that one,” Riley adds. “Xero is one tough mother for taking all of this, but I can sense that the end is near.”

“Master of the obvious Riley…”

“Shut up Stevens, before I make you!”

“Anytime Riley, former World Champ, err I mean chump!” Stevens jokes, although meaning every word. Riley glares at his partner for a second, then re-centers his focus on the ring.

Breggan parades around the ring, confident that his challenger is down for the count. The ref admonishes the arrogant actions of the big man, but really can’t do anything about it as Xero uses this display of sheer conceit to recover. Lerrin walks up to the ropes in front of some especially rowdy fans and banters back and forth with them, using body language to invite them to be next as time passes. Finally, Breggan walks towards his downed foe, but gets nailed by an unexpected Low-Blow! The fans go nuts as Lerrin crumbles to his chest, obviously very hurt.

“Great decision by Xero there! He made Lerrin pay for being a cocky prick, and he made him pay big time!” Stevens blurts out, excited that the match may be changing directions. “Lerrin gave him enough time to clean out the cobwebs and now he is going to regret that!”

The light-heavyweight scrambles to his feet and heads toward the nearest corner. He jumps to the top rope and angles himself at the man on the mat. Xero leaps off, getting some nice height as he plants a huge Frog Splash. The smaller wrestler rolls off Lerrin, clutching his torso but crawls back and gives him a standard lateral pin. The ref jumps down and counts.

“Good move there, he flattened him,” Riley observes.

“But, did he injure himself more than the damage he inflicted? Remember how much punishment Xero has incurred on his torso tonight, and I’m sure that didn’t help…” Stevens trails off.

ONE…

TWO--- Lerrin heaves Xero up and throws him at the ropes, showing he still has a lot of fight left in him.

“I guess there is your answer! Lerrin still has quite a bit left judging from that kickout,” Riley mentions the obvious. “Xero needs to press the advantage, if his body holds up.”

Lerrin sits up as Xero uses the ropes to bring himself up. The larger wrestler stands, a little groggy as he gets blindsided by a big Dropkick from the cruiserweight. Breggan stumbles back into the far corner as Xero stands yet again. The crowd is firmly behind the lightweight now. Lerrin snarls thunderously as he charges forward. Xero moves quickly and leaps. He grabs onto Lerrin’s neck pulls him down into a front facelock, then throws one arm up signaling for a big move. He spins one way and hooks his other arm under Lerrin’s neck, then brings the big boy down after the immense impact to the face. Xero instantly goes for the pin and hooks a leg. The fans cheer heavily, recognizing the end of the match as the ref jumps down to count.

ONE…

“What a move by Xero, the Twist of Fate!” Stevens shrieks into his headset. “Very rarely do we see Xero pull out this move, and on a guy as big as Lerrin it could be one of the stunning moves he could do. This match could very well be over!”

TWO…

“You’re right Stevens, I can’t see the new guy coming back from this,” Riley continues his partner’s thoughts. “It was a good match, but Lerrin Breggan just couldn’t pull it out in the end!”

THREE-- NO! Lerrin hurls Xero up and onto the ref to break the count to heavy boos.

“HOLY…” is all that Stevens can get out as Lerrin pops up to his feet.

Xero rises swiftly, a look of pure astonishment on his face. He genuinely can’t believe that Lerrin kicked out, especially that forcibly. Breggan takes advantage of Xero’s disbelief and uses the split second to charge and RAIL him with a Gore. The fans gasp as Xero is almost cut in half from the BRUTAL collision.

“He could have broken something there Riley,” Stevens murmurs with a great bit of concern.

Breggan, not even caring that Xero could be badly injured, drags the near lifeless body to the middle of the squared circle and pulls him up. He points at the fans, then flicks them off as the chant once more. Lerrin locks Xero into a reverse double underhook headscissors, then spins for one full rotation, leaving the smaller man completely off the ground and hanging on Lerrin’s back.

“Ohh no, that Spear thing isn’t the only move that could break something here Stevens! We’ve seen this before, and I definitely do not envy Xero right now,” Riley blurts out.

Lerrin jumps and comes down, hitting the Vertebreaker with tremendous might, getting a cheer of awe and concern from the fans. Xero limply falls to the mat on his back, not even moving after such a devastating move. Lerrin simply drapes one arm across the veteran’s chest, knowing that the match is over. The ref gets into position to count the academic three.

ONE…

TWO…

THREE!!!

Lerrin quickly stands as Funyon announces, “Your winner, LERRRRRRRRRRRIN BREGGAN!” The crowd boos loudly as “Victory” by Do or Die blasts out from the speakers in the Richmond Coliseum. Lerrin walks to the ropes and demands a mike as Xero lays motionless in the ring.

“What a finisher,” Riley states in amazement. “The Kingdom Come.”

“Get a good look everyone,” Lerrin gets out over the loud noise from the audience, ending his own theme music. “You know as well as I that this is your future. I may not have made much noise coming in, but after this match you all know what to expect. You all have seen how futile it is to try and fight me, but I welcome one and welcome each and every individual back there to try it! The same result will happen, and the SWF will never be the same. You’re in my kingdom now, SWF, and its time to get knocked the FUCK OUT!” Lerrin throws the mike to the ground as his music plays again.

“What a message he has sent to the SWF tonight Riley, and this is only the second match! There is more to come, so stay tuned,” Stevens inserts quickly as Smarkdown heads to commercial.

July 16, 2002

Backstage, the Boston Strangler is stretching himself out, trying to get loose for his match later on in the night. Strangler is on the ground, stretching out his quads in the middle of the now-empty M7 locker room. As Strangler changes legs, the door opens, and Chris Wilson walks in. As he sees Strangler, a smile flashes over his face.

“Stretching the quads, eh Strangler?”

“Yeah, I heard these can be real problematic, especially to a guy of my size. Just gotta get ready for my match.”

“Strangler, do you realize how big an opportunity this is? You have an opportunity to rise up into the upper echelon tonight! You’re facing SPIDER NEKURA and EDWIN MACPHISTO!”

“Yeah, the thought occurred to be, Wilson. And I can’t wait to get my hands on Nekura again…”

“Yeah, I wanna get Mac…Nekura? Why do you want Nekura so bad?”

“Well, for one reason, I already had my shot at MacPhisto tonight. That lets a lot of the anger out. But there’s another reason. Wilson, when you left, and when I got bumped, I was in the Clan.”

Wilson nods, thinking he knows where this is going. “Yeah, I remember that. I was watching. You were doing some great stuff with them, Strangler.”

Strangler looks off into the distance, thinking. “Yeah, there were some good times. For a long time, I was enjoying myself. But then Nekura showed up. When I joined, it was just me, Thoth, and Fallout. We worked together, and we worked hard. We knew each other…at least I thought we did. When Nekura showed up, things changed immediately. Thoth and Fallout became completely different people. They went from being somewhat normal guys who had a taste for the occult to full-blown whackjobs. Now I was cool with the Clan and all, but Spider and I….we didn’t see eye to eye on a lot of things. He thought I didn’t take the Clan seriously, that I hadn’t given myself over to the Clan. Well he was damn right I hadn’t! I’m my own damn person! I always have been, and I always will be. You understand that, don’t you Wilson?”

Wilson nods. “Yeah, you’re different, Strangler. But that’s cool with me.”

Strangler reaches out, patting Wilson on the shoulder. “See, you’re cool with it. You’re letting me go after Taylor, even though we got stuff here with the Carnival, and the Clan! You understand that people need to have freedom, to be able to do their own thing! But Nekura….he didn’t get that. He wanted things done his way or the highway. Well, I fought ‘em for a while. Eventually, we had a few confrontations. The Clan was split, but I didn’t have any allies. People who I genuinely felt close to, like Fallout and Thoth, turned on me with a flick of a switch by Spider! And then, when they feared I might turn on them completely, when they thought I might become a ‘liability’ to their cause, they made me disappear. Nekura showed up at the arena one day, and told me that if I was there the next day, I’d be in trouble. He told me to disappear for a while, to leave the SWF behind. And I knew what Nekura was capable of. He’s a sick, sick man. So I left. I was gone from the Clan, gone from the SWF…I had nowhere to go. If it wasn’t for you, Wilson, I don’t know where I’d be.”

Wilson, with a sad look on his face, pats Strangler on the shoulder. “Well, you got some revenge against the Clan last week. That helps.”

Strangler looks up, a look of rage on his face. “It’ll never be enough, Wilson. There are a lot of people who’ve been jilted by the Clan. Heck, I remember poor Annie Eclectic…she almost suffered the same fate as me. And I don’t even know where she is now! But I’m telling you, Wilson….I’m gonna get Nekura tonight! I’m gonna show this guy just what I think of him, and his stupid Clan! Tonight’s the night I get my revenge!”

Wilson stands up and heads for the door. “Strangler, I have all the faith in the world in you. But if you need help…I’ll be there.”

Strangler looks to Wilson. “You always have been, man. I appreciate it. I gotta finish stretching now…time for my bicep stretches. They can do some bad things to the bigger guys too.”

Wilson smiles and walks out the door, leaving a calm, focused Strangler stretching on the floor. Strangler stretches out his arms and legs, straining toward the far wall….where a picture of Spider Nekura, Thoth, the Boston Strangler, and Fallout hangs.

July 16, 2002

SJL Smarkdown returns from commercial and pans the Richmond Coliseum in Richmond, Virginia. As the camera sweeps across the arena, the fans burst into their standard chant of "GRAND SLAM! GRAND SLAM!" A few lucky fans are shown holding signs such as "Los Loco Luchadores," "Clanival SMASH!" and "Magnificent Athletes, Magnificent 7." Finally, it zooms in on the SmarkTron, which shows photos of El Luchadore Magnifico and Chris Raynor on one side and Tom Flesher and Fallout on the other. Underneath, the subtitle reads "Tag Team Grudge Match."

*Stevens: Welcome back to Smarkdown, fans, and we're getting ready to see another exciting match. After the contest between Frost and Mercury, and the debut of Lerrin Breggan, I'm not sure there's much more we can do to excite you! This one promises to be an intense encounter, though!

*Riley: "Intense." "Exciting." Can't you think of anything else to say about these matches?

*Stevens: Well, this match will showcase El Luchadore Magnifico. He's one of the most exciting workers ever to step onto the mats here in the SWF. Chris Raynor is completely intense, as is Tom Flesher... and Fallout's always a treat.

*Riley: I swear, you get more and more boring every week.

*Stevens: Says the pot to the kettle. Riley, I swear, you haven't added a thing to any of these matches.

Riley's face turns bright red, and he's visibly upset.

*Riley: Why... I haven't been this mad since... since...

*Stevens: Since I stiffed you during the palm strike discussion?

Riley just growls.

*Stevens: And with that, let's go to Funyon!

Funyon enters the ring, looking resplendent in his suit.

*Funyon: The following is a tag team contest, and it is scheduled for one fall!

The arena lights fade into blackness as a soft female voice whispers, "Midnight Carnival." The SmarkTron flashes blazing white in time with the opening beats of the Red Hot Chili Peppers’ "Love Rollercoaster" as the Carnival’s anthem pumps through the arena, revealing with each flash thin black lettering that reads "Step Right Up." As the guitar part drops in, three blue laser lights trace the arena, all stemming from the same point in the middle of the entrance ramp. As the words "Rollercoaster... of Love..." echo through the arena for the first time, the laser lights flare out into a blue haze across the entrance ramp as the members of the Midnight Carnival step out from behind the curtain. As the refrain arrives for the first time, the arena plunges back into darkness just as purple strobe lights tear through the house and the blue laser lights spiral wildly, illuminating the members of the Midnight Carnival in funky, staccato bursts. The fans burst into cheers for their favorite stable. The Carnival's video plays on the SmarkTron, flashing half-second clips of classic maneuvers from the Carnival’s members. They make their way to the ring, and get down to the business at hand.

*Funyon: Coming to the ring, at a total combined weight of 440 pounds... the SWF Light Heavyweight Champion, everyone's favorite legal immigrant, El Luchadore Magnifico... one-half of the SWF Tag-Team Champions, everyone's favorite caveman, Chris Raynor... they are everyone's favorite bunch of goofs, the MIDNIGHT CARNIVALLLLLLLLLLLL!

The fans cheer. The girls scream. Luchadore and Raynor enter the ring, and Raynor mounts the turnbuckle. He pulls his jersey off and throws it to the cheering crowd, which pops hard for the Carnival. Raynor climbs down off the turnbuckle, and the arena goes dark.

Suddenly...

"What’s wrong, motherfucker? You were a man, just a minute ago..."

The crowd bursts into a chorus of boos as "You Were" by DJ Foxx blasts over the speakers, signaling the arrival of the most dangerous stable in the SWF, the Clan! Wasting little time, Fallout walks out onto the stage in his Clan robe, followed by the robed Superior One. ‘So says the Clan’ flashes on the SmarkTron as both men pause briefly. Flesher unties his robe, revealing the SWF US Title wrapped around his waist, and then both men start down the ramp.

Funyon: Their opponents, at a total combined weight of 398 pounds... the Nuclear Warhead, Fallout... the SWF United States Champion, "The Superior One," Tom Flesher....

Flesher enters the ring, then clears his throat loudly. Funyon shakes his head, then sighs and resumes his announcement.

Funyon: ... the SWF United States Champion, the top light heavyweight in the SWF and the NEXT SWF Light Heavy-

With that, El Luchadore Magnifico charges across the ring and nails Flesher in the chest with a dropkick! Flesher reels backwards, Funyon dives out of the ring, and Magnifico throws another dropkick that sends Tom over the top rope. With that, the Mexican immigrant runs across the ring, hits the ropes, vaults over the top and comes down on Flesher with a crushing plancha. Flesher collapses on the outside, still wearing his robe and title belt, and tries to shake the cobwebs out. In the confusion, somehow, the referee manages to call for the bell.

DING DING DING!!!!!!

*Stevens: It looks like El Luchadore Magnifico took offense to that statement!

*Riley: Well, I certainly don't see why.

*Stevens: Flesher's basically saying that Mags is going down, two weeks before their scheduled pay-per-view match! Before it's even officially on the card!

*Riley: I don't see what's wrong with that statement. Tom Flesher is the SWF US Champion, he's definitely the top light heavyweight in the federation...

*Stevens: Oh, come on!

*Riley: Okay, okay, the world. Happy now?

Fallout shakes his robe off and quickly goes to work to keep Raynor from attacking his partner as well. Raynor, distracted by Magnifico's high-risk maneuver, is caught completely by surprise when Fallout runs across the ring and, with a quick flip, hits him in the back with a spinning heel kick! Raynor hits the ropes, and Fallout immediately spins him around. In one fluid motion, Fallout nails the Carnival member with a knife-edge chop to the chest. A loud SMACK echoes through the arena, and the crowd shouts, WHOO!

And Fallout hits a second knife-edge chop. Once again, SMACK! WHOO!

Fallout hits one more chop, getting the standard SMACK! WHOO! Finally, Raynor grabs Fallout's arm before he can pull it back, then wrenches it to pull his opponent off balance. Fluidly, Raynor whips Fallout to the ropes. As Fallout rebounds, he ducks a clothesline, and on the return, answers with a dropkick. Raynor dodges the kick, though, and quickly drops an elbow onto his opponent in order to capitalize on the missed move. As the two lightweight competitors are finally separated on the outside, Fallout rolls away from Raynor. El Luchadore Magnifico unfastens his belt and leaves it in the corner, still baiting the Clan member, while Flesher shakes his black robe off and quickly removes his belt. As always, he kisses it before setting it in the corner, and Fallout and Raynor circle in the ring.

*Stevens: Flesher took quite a beating on the outside. Magnifico nailed him with several good, hard hits, and I think it's evident that the road to the Light Heavyweight Title isn't going to be as easy as Flesher thought it would.

*Riley: Fallout and Raynor, on the other hand, didn't produce any real sense of dominance. It's going to be interesting to see how this shapes up.

*Stevens: It's set to be a barnburner, and that, my friends, is a damn promise!

*Riley: Why do you always say that?

*Stevens: Why do you always act like such a dimwit?

*Riley: Ah, shove it up your ass and die.

*Stevens: See?

Fallout looks over to see Flesher still shaken up. Raynor looks back at him, but the Nuclear One points toward Magnifico and nods.

*Stevens: Fallout wants the Light Heavyweight Champion!

*Riley: You know, this would be more interesting if there was some history to the match besides Magnifico not realizing that Flesher's better than he is.

*Stevens: Oh, Booby, how right you are, but how stupid you look. You see, here's where you show you haven't been paying attention. Our more dedicated fans are going to remember that El Luchadore Magnifico was, in fact, the man who ended Fallout's epic 140-day reign as SWF Light Heavyweight Champion. Since then, Magnifico dropped the title to Erek Taylor for several weeks, but otherwise, the Mexican immigrant has monopolized it.

*Riley: But what the hell is Raynor doing in this match?

*Stevens: I swear, you just make me look more knowledgable every time you open your mouth. You may recall that Tom Flesher did, in fact, drop the US Title to Raynor a week and a half before winning it back at Snake Eyes.

*Riley: HA! Got you there! That was Durandal!

Stevens sighs, and Riley responds by thumbing his nose and singing, "Neener neener!" Meanwhile, in the ring, Raynor walks back over to his corner. He points to Fallout and then, as the crowd cheers loudly, he points to Magnifico. Purposefully, Raynor raises his hand up and forcefully tags Magnifico in, and the fans go wild.

Magnifico and Fallout circle each other carefully, neither man wanting to make a mistake. Fallout raises up, seemingly ready to go for something, but then backs away. ELM steps in and looks for a vertical suplex, only to have Fallout spin out and back away again. The Hispanic Hero once again steps in, but, smiling slyly, Fallout backs away yet again, this time into his own corner. Anxious to get into the ring, Flesher slaps Fallout on the shoulder and vaults over the top rope, looking El Luchadore Magnifico square in the eye.

*Stevens: This is one of the strangest feuds we've seen all year. The Clan and the Midnight Carnival are finally starting to get along, and then the lightweights start to square off!

*Riley: Well, the main problem is Magnifico's ego.

*Stevens: Where do you get off saying that? Flesher's the one who mocked Mags behind his back!

*Riley: Oh, you and your "facts."

Flesher drops back into his amateur stance and throws a quick palm strike. The Luchadore sees it coming, though, and backs away to avoid most of the impact before responding with a quick right hand. Flesher, staggered by the blow, readjusts and then drops to his knees, going for a single-leg takedown. Magnifico backs away, sprawling down on Flesher in a textbook amateur-style counter, and quickly hooks his arms before spinning around and taking Flesher over in a backslide! The referee counts

ONE

but Flesher kicks out! He looks utterly confused, and Magnifico takes advantage of that by nailing him with a quick lariat! Flesher rolls away, but unfortunately for him ends up closer to the Carnival's corner.

*Stevens: It looks like Flesher may have underestimated both the speed and the technical ability of El Luchadore Magnifico!

*Riley: Well, how could you not? Look at him! He looks like a total throwback!

*Stevens: How can you say that? He's a very well-built wrestler!

*Riley: I think it's the sloping brow that does it.

With Flesher stunned, Magnifico grabs him and spins around so his back is to the Carnival corner. With that, he hits a beautiful snap suplex and sends Flesher crashing to the mat. The Superior One arches and grabs his back, and as soon as he sees that, Magnifico drags his adversary to his feet. ELM whips Flesher into the corner, then immediately drops to the mat. As Flesher rebounds out of the corner, Magnifico catches him with a drop toehold, and cinches a crossface on the way down! Almost immediately, Flesher begins writhing in pain.

*Stevens: Sangria Stretch by El Luchadore Magnifico! Could this one be moving toward an early finish?

*Riley: The fact that this match won says it isn't!

*Stevens: What an odd thing to say.

*Riley: Well, I'm just saying, you don't see many early finishes.

*Stevens: AY-KAY ABE-FAY!

Riley clears his throat.

*Riley: What I meant to say was, WHAT AN EXCITING HOLD BY EL LUCHADORE MAGNIFICO! But... er... Flesher's much, much better!

Stevens sighs dejectedly as Flesher squirms and writhes on the mat. He quickly manages to wriggle toward the ropes, but Magnifico tightens the hold before he can make a grab for them. Flesher works for the ropes, and gets very close, but each time, Magnifico tightens the hold at just the right moment to keep him from forcing a break. Finally, after several failed attempts, Flesher manages to get one hand wrapped around the bottom strand, and before the referee even begins his five-count, Magnifico breaks the hold and waits, poised, for Flesher to get back to his feet. Before Flesher can, though, Magnifico nails him with a quick dropkick, and then moves over to make a quick tag to his partner.

*Stevens: Raynor and Magnifico have worked together extensively, including a reign as the SWF Tag Team Champions. Currently, Raynor is reigning with Edwin.

*Riley: And currently, Magnifico has a booger.

Raynor enters the ring and sees Flesher still in pain from having his back stretched. He takes one look at Flesher, then turns to the fans, throws his fist in the air, and shouts, "SMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASH!" The fans explode into a wave of cheers and a chant of "SMASH! SMASH! SMASH!" Raynor plays to them a bit, seeming to forget that Flesher is behind him. The Superior One sneaks over and quickly throws a dropkick into the pit of Raynor's knee, bringing him down to the mat. Raynor pulls himself back up on the ropes, though, and spins around to nail Flesher with a lariat just as he's getting back up! Flesher hits the mat hard, and before he knows what's happening, Raynor has locked his hands around his waist in a gutwrench lock, lifted him up and thrown him forcefully back to the mat in a tilt-a-whirl slam! The crowd resumes their "SMASH! SMASH!" chant as Raynor starts a golf clap for himself, mocking Flesher's love of applauding even his simplest moves. Flesher, meanwhile, crawls back to his corner and tags in his partner.

*Stevens: And it looks like Raynor's decided to let Fallout try his hand!

*Riley: Well, obviously.

Fallout steps into the ring. Flesher exits. Raynor motions for Fallout to come forward. He does. Fallout reaches out like he’s about to lock up. Raynor does the same. Just before they can lock up, Fallout kicks Raynor in the gut. He follows it up with a few punches to the face, backing Raynor into the ropes. Then he hits a knife-edge chop for good measure. (WHOO!) Irish whip, Raynor reverses and tries to take Fallout down with a hip toss…but Fallout blocks it and then steps over Raynor’s leg, locking in an abdominal stretch! The hold appears to put Raynor in considerable pain, but he reaches up with his free hand and punches Fallout in the face a few times, breaking the hold before it can do any real damage. Raynor kicks Fallout in the gut, and then sets him up for a suplex. Raynor lifts Fallout up…but Fallout slips out of his grasp and lands behind him. Fallout reaches behind him, grabs Raynor’s head, and brings him down with a neckbreaker. Fallout then moves to the corner and starts climbing the turnbuckles. Raynor starts to get up. Fallout gets to the top. Raynor gets to his feet at about the same time, but Fallout flies off the turnbuckle and takes him back down with a Missile Dropkick! Fallout makes the cover…

ONE!

TWO!

…but Raynor gets the shoulder up.

*Stevens: Nice Missile Dropkick by the Scum of the Earth. But that won’t be enough to keep Raynor down. The Carnival is strong.

*Riley: There you go again, shamelessly plugging the Carnival.

*Stevens: Why are you so bent out of shape about this? Do you really think that I give props to the Carnival simply because I was a member before I retired?

*Riley: Okay then. Why do you give props to the Carnival?

*Stevens: …I’m not telling you.

Raynor slowly gets up. Fallout grabs him, sets him up, and takes him down with a snap suplex. He then runs over to the corner and nails ELM with a cheap shot! ELM nearly falls off the apron, but he grabs the top rope and holds himself up. He then tries to enter the ring and go after Fallout, but the referee holds him back. With the referee distracted, Flesher illegally comes into the ring. He and Fallout drags Raynor toward the Clan corner. Fallout stands over Raynor and spreads his legs a bit, and then Flesher kicks him right in the gonads! ELM gives up his protest, realizing that it isn’t helping his partner, and he exits the ring. Fallout looks over at the referee to make sure he’s still turned around, and then he claps his hands to simulate a tag. He exits the ring. Flesher lifts Raynor up to his feet. He then gets behind Raynor, crosses his arms, and delivers a Straightjacket Suplex! Flesher hooks the leg…

ONE!

TWO!

T-but Raynor gets the shoulder up again.

*Stevens: Tom Flesher is definitely a master of suplexes. And that’s one of the more interesting ones right there.

*Riley: Indeed. The effects of a Straightjacket Suplex are similar to those of a German Suplex, but it also puts some strain on the victim’s arms. Very effective. Very painful.

Flesher brings Raynor to his feet. He hits him with a few punches to the face, backing him down. But suddenly, Raynor blocks one of the punches and fires back with a few of his own! But Flesher rakes the eyes and stops Raynor’s offense. He backs Raynor into the ropes, not noticing ELM sticking his hand out and tapping Raynor on the back. The referee signals that a tag was made. Irish whip, and Flesher takes Raynor down with a superkick right to the jaw! Raynor staggers backward and falls out of the ring. As Flesher watches him fall, ELM leaps up onto the top rope, bounces off, and nails Flesher with a dropkick to the back of the head! Flesher slowly gets up. ELM kicks him in the gut, Irish whip, and he takes Flesher down with a Hurricanrana into a pin…no, he decides to punch Flesher in the face a few times while he’s down rather than pin him. The referee warns him with a five-count.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

ELM stops the punching. He brings Flesher back to his feet. Irish whip, Flesher reverses and lowers his head for a back drop, but ELM spins around 180 degrees and backflips over Flesher and lands on his feet behind him. ELM applies a waistlock, but Flesher elbows him in the head and then reverses into a waistlock of his own. He goes for a German Suplex, but ELM blocks it and then rolls him up…

ONE!

TWO!

…but Flesher kicks out. Both men get up. Flesher hits ELM with a thumb to the eye, slowing him down for a second. Flesher grabs ELM, runs him to the side of the ring, and hurls him over the top rope…but ELM holds onto the ropes, skins the cat, and just like that he’s back in the ring. Flesher charges at him, but ELM back drops him over the top rope…however, Flesher lands safely on the apron. ELM turns around and takes a swing at Flesher, but The Superior One ducks. He then drives his shoulder between the ropes, aiming for ELM’s midsection, but the amazingly quick luchador jumps over the shoulder attack and hits Flesher with a leg drop to the back of the head on the way down! Flesher falls back into the ring for a moment, but ELM kicks him under the ropes to the floor. Flesher starts to get up. ELM runs off the opposite ropes, and as he approaches the side of the ring where Flesher is, he dives through the ropes and takes Flesher down with a suicide dive!

*Stevens: El Luchador Magnifico with a tope! He didn’t even touch the ropes!

*Riley: No one can do a suicide dive better than Mag…except me.

*Stevens: I don’t remember you doing a lot of high flying stuff. You were more of a technical guy as I recall.

*Riley: Yeah, but I could’ve done it if I wanted.

*Stevens: (sarcastic) Sure you could.

The referee starts yelling at ELM and Flesher to get in the ring, regardless of the fact that they’re both having trouble standing right now. Fallout enters the ring while the referee’s back is to him. ELM is starting to stand up outside the ring. Fallout waits for him to stand. Once ELM is up, Fallout runs toward a corner on that side of the ring, runs up the turnbuckles…but Raynor runs across the apron and pushes him off, and Fallout hits the guardrail on the way down!

*Riley: Hey, that was illegal! Raynor’s not the legal man!

*Stevens: Neither is Fallout. He shouldn’t have come out of his corner, and he paid for it.

*Riley: Don’t get logical with me, Mark. I don’t have time for it.

The referee yells at Raynor, who just ran past him and forced Fallout to take a nasty plunge. Raynor returns to his corner. ELM grabs Flesher and throws him back into the ring. ELM climbs up onto the apron and waits for Flesher to get up. Flesher gets to his feet, facing away from ELM. ELM pulls himself onto the top rope, flips forward…and takes Flesher down with the South American Stunner! ELM makes the tag to Raynor, who enters the ring as ELM exits.

*Stevens: South American Stunner, and now it looks like Raynor may finish off Tom Flesher!

*Riley: Why does he call it the South American Stunner when he’s from Mexico, a North American country?

*Stevens: Hey, if I can’t get logical, neither can you.

*Riley: Okay. Fair enough.

Raynor comes into the ring. He grabs Flesher and helps him up. Then he bends him over and applies a standing head scissors. Raynor lifts Flesher up…but Flesher slips out of his grasp before he can hit the powerbomb. Raynor takes a swing at him, but Flesher ducks and quickly gets behind Raynor. Flesher grabs him and lifts him into a belly-to-back suplex…but Raynor lands on his feet! Flesher turns around, and promptly gets kicked by Raynor. Raynor applies a standing head scissors, lifts Flesher up…and plants him with a powerbomb! But he’s not done. Raynor lifts him off the ground, backs up toward the ropes, and as he comes down the fans yell…SMASH! Raynor hooks the leg…

ONE!

TWO!

…but Fallout dives back into the ring and breaks up the count.

*Stevnes: Raynor with the CHRIS SMASH! But Fallout broke up the pin.

*Riley: Chris Smash. Give me a freakin’ break.

*Stevens: Oh, lighten up and have a little fun.

*Riley: Never!

ELM runs back into the ring. He runs toward Fallout, jumps up, and nails him with a flying elbow, causing him to fall backward and roll out of the ring. ELM follows him out. Raynor grabs Flesher and pulls him back up. He whips him hard into the corner! Flesher hits the turnbuckles and then staggers forward. Raynor quickly gets in front of him and faces the other way. Outside the ring, we hear a crash. Apparently the crash was the result of ELM hitting the ring steps thanks to a reversed Irish whip by Fallout. He drops to his knees, hooks Flesher’s arms as he stumbles toward him, stands up…AND THEN NAILS FLESHER WITH ACID RAYN!!! Raynor goes for the cover…

ONE!

TWO!

TH-but Fallout slides back into the ring…and nails the referee from behind!

*Stevens: What the hell!? Fallout just took out the referee!

*Riley: He had it coming. He’s been making bad calls this entire match.

*Stevens: What match have you been watching?

Raynor notices what just happened, and he stands up so he can deal with Fallout. Fallout tries to punch Raynor in the face, but Raynor blocks it and kicks Fallout in the gut, bending him over. He pulls him into a standing head scissors…but Fallout counters with a low blow! Down goes Raynor! Fallout slides out of the ring and walks toward the timekeeper’s table.

*Riley: I guess there won’t be any Chris Raynor, Jr. And that’s not a bad thing. That’s…

*Stevens: …a copyright violation if you finish that sentence. So zip it!

Fallout walks over to Funyon, who vacates his chair. Fallout folds the chair up and takes it into the ring. Raynor slowly stands up. Fallout winds up and then lets the chair fly…but Raynor ducks! Fallout turns around, and gets punched in the face a few times by Raynor, causing him to drop the chair. Flesher rolls over to the side of the ring and uses the ropes to pull himself up. Raynor whips him into the turnbuckles hard, and then gets in position for the Acid Rayn. Fallout staggers forward, and Raynor hooks the arms, stands up…AND NAILS FALLOUT WITH ACID RAYN!!! Flesher is back on his feet, and he grabs the chair that Fallout tried to use earlier. Raynor notices that Flesher has the chair, and he runs up with a clothesline…but Flesher ducks. He winds up as Raynor turns around…AND CLOCKS HIM IN THE HEAD WITH THE CHAIR!!! Raynor goes down! A recovering ELM climbs up onto the apron to save his partner, but Flesher tosses the chair at him and scores a hit to the head! ELM falls back down to the floor. Flesher grabs Raynor and pulls him over to the corner. He climbs up to the middle turnbuckle, applies a front facelock…AND HITS RAYNOR WITH THE SPIN CYCLE!!! Flesher hooks the leg, and the semi-recovered referee crawls into position…

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!!!

DING DING DING

“You Were” begins to play. Flesher and Fallout both exit the ring, and they start to limp to the back. They’re visibly hurting, but still more than satisfied with the win.

*Funyon: The winners of this match, Tom Flesher and Fallout…THE CLAN!!!

*Stevens: How do you like that?

*Riley: Very much, thank you.

*Stevens: Fallout and Tom Flesher should’ve been disqualified for attacking the referee, but the referee couldn’t see who hit him. And The Clan have stolen another one.

*Riley: And this new team of Fallout and Flesher is now two for two. Mark my words, Grand Slam, this team is going places.

*Stevens: And they’ll be cheating every step of the way.

*Riley: What else would you expect?

Commercial…

July 16, 2002

SWF Smarkdown returns to Richmond, and we are treated to a pre-recorded little segment from earlier today in the locker room of Ash Ketchum. Ketchum is shuffling through his bags as he checks to make sure all his gear is there.

Ash: *sigh* Maybe I should have shut my mouth and not called Stubby out.

Misty: Hey, don't worry about tonight. I'll be there for you, Ash-

Ash looks up from the bag, turning his head toward his pregnant girlfriend.

Ash: No you won't. Not tonight.

Misty: Why not?

Ash: Because... Jay Dawg is a vicious, ruthless brute. Vince McMahon would looooove his "Roothless Agression". And now, with Lerrin Breggan at his side... if he gets his hands on you, he will kill you... literally. You're four months pregnant, Misty. You can't go out there and risk that kind of injury.

Misty: Is this one of those things that's "for my safety"? I'm not weak-

Ash: I know... but think about the baby first...

Misty pauses, sighing deeply as her wishes and her common sense fight inside of her miind before she makes her decision.

Misty: All right.

Ash: Now, you'll be staying with the Carnies for the duration of my match. Edwin's promised to take good care of you until I come back. Understand?

Misty: Understood.

Ash: Good. (Ash reaches over and hugs Misty.) I'm so happy. I can't wait for the baby...

Misty: Well... you're not the one who's gonna have to go into labor!

Ash: True.

Ash smiles, as does Misty, but her mind is obviously thinking of something else, as her eyes look away from Ash for a second, looking around the room. What could it be? What is she plotting? The mystery lingers...

July 16, 2002

Storm returns to the Richmond Coliseum, the camera cuts to backstage in the Commissioner’s office. Glimpses of the office are shown the leather chair, the solid oak desk, and the picture of Mt. Rushmore with Stubby’s face replacing one of those presidents. Stubby sits in his chair, reading through some paperwork, when suddenly the door bursts open. Jay Dawg is the man walking through, his head bandaged up from last week’s Storm.

Stubby: “Jay Dawg? What are you doing here? You are supposed to have a match right now.”

Jamie: “Yeah I know. That’s why I came here. Why are you making me defend the title against this idiot again?”

Stubby: “Because he requested the rematch.”

Jamie: “So. I want to team up with Lerrin, dude. Have you seen him? He’s awesome!”

Stubby: “Yeah I know. But that’s not the point. You powerbombed his pregnant girlfriend! You know the lawsuits capabilities from that? It’s either you kick the shit out of him again, or you get fired.”

Jamie: “Well I guess I better kick the shit out of him. But dude, it’s a Hide and Seek match. He can win by a fluke.”

Stubby: “I got that covered. I know the guy who hid the title. He hid it in the Bar called the Brawling Titty. Now where he hid it is unknown, but what I’m gonna do is contact you upon finding out where it is. Here is a CB radio, hang onto it, and I’ll contact you when I get word.”

Stubby hands the portable radio to JD and the hardcore champ sticks the thing in his pocket.

Jamie: “Alright. I’m off to hurt a Hardcore Idiot. Yay!”

JD walks out through the door, and heads down the hallway. The commentators can be heard, as JD walks to the parking lot.

Stevens: “Jay Dawg is not taking this match seriously!”

Riley: “Well how can he!? It’s a Hide and Seek match!”

Stevens: “That’s exactly why he needs to take this more serious! Ash is already pissed off and prepared!”

Riley: “Yeah! Word in the back says he caught more Pokemon then ever!”

Stevens: “Wait a minute! I just got word that Ash is waiting for Jay Dawg out in the parking lot!”

Jay Dawg kicks open the double corridoors, and enters the parking lot. He slowly walks past many of the cars, looking to his left and right, wondering what is going on. The cameras take a look at the cars, on them are banners in many rainbow/tropical colors.

“Ash! Where are you!?” Jay Dawg shouts, noticing what the cars say. “Pokemon 0wnz j00.” Suddenly the cars on his immediate left and rights brighten up. The lights repeatedly flash as Three more cars on both sides begin to light up as well, the horns honking in the process. A voice is suddenly heard.

“Now introducing! The hardcore champ of mediocrity! The slave to Pokemania! He is the S-W-F’s largest PokeHater! JAMIE ‘JAY-I SUCK-DAWG’ DRAZON!!”

The arena can be heard, cheering loudly at the comments who is obviously Ash on a microphone. “Ash! You are fucking dead!” JD shouts, his anger getting the better of him. He looks around, trying to think of where Ash is. He finally turns to a car and starts kicking it. His toe knocks out one light. “Ash! Show yourself you fucking pussy! I’ll break every damn car in here!” JD starts to stomp on one of the cars and behind him, appears Ash, carrying a bucket.

Riley: “Behind you, Jay Dawg! Behind you!”

JD turns around to see a smiling Ash Ketchum. JD looks down to see the bucket in his hands and his eyes bulge out. Ash launches the bucket and soaks JD with the water inside! JD stands there, the water dripping off of him, he reaches to his eyes and wipes away the liquid.

“What the fuck!? Are you nuts!?”

“No! You see, now I have soaked you with the highly corrosive pokejuice, allowing me full access to kick you in the nuts!”

“Huh!?”

DING!! JD drops to his knees as Ash quickly pulls his foot away. Ash darts out of the parking lot, and presumably is on his way to the Brawling Titty.

Stevens: “What a start by the pokemaniac!”

Riley: “What a fkn jew! He ambushed Jay Dawg!”

JD pushes himself up, reaching into his pocket, he checks on the radio.

“Stubby. You know where the title is hidden yet?”

“*BUZZ* *CRACKLE*”

“Cheap piece of shit.” JD sticks the radio back in his pocket and slowly walks to the door, his groin in pain. “Ash is dead.”

Stevens: “Yes! Jay Dawg is now fair game, the water must have killed the electronic connection!”

JD opens the door and starts to walk down the street. The streets are quiet, parked cars around, but not much traffic. Homeless men can be seen sitting on the sidewalks as well as hookers and everyone else. Two blocks down, in bright pink is the sign “The Brawling Titty!” JD walks forward, his groin seemingly feeling better. However, once again, Ash Ketchum appears behind him. Carrying the same bucket.

Riley: “What the fuck!? Where does that little cock sucker come from!?”

Stevens: “I believe he hails from Pallet Town!”

JD turns around just as Ash swings the bucket. CLUNK!! The bucket, now dented over Jay Dawg’s head, drops the champ to one knee. Ash grabs JD and pulls him into a facelock, he swings around, and drops him into the sidewalk with a swinging neckbreaker! Popping up, Ash shoots his hand in the air.

“WHO BETTA DAN KETCHUM!!!?”

Everyone in the fifty-foot proximity looks over, then suddenly shout. “NOBODY!!!” Ash looks down at Jay Dawg, who lies still with his eyes closed. He kneels down, staring at the still Dawg, puzzled as can be, studying his trancelike state. Jay Dawg’s eyes suddenly snap open, and he grabs Ash by the throat. With his hand clenched over Ketchum’s throat with the iron grasp, JD stares into Ash and speaks once more. “Pokemania is going down, bitch!” JD sits up, and stands up milliseconds after, hanging onto his choke. He brings out his other arm, and clasps it over the hand, adding to the choke. His eyelids may be open, but the pupils roll into the back of his head as he lifts Ash into the air!

Stevens: “Look at the power of Jay Dawg! Ash is well over 250 pounds!”

Riley: “Yeah. That little bastard is quite the fatty! Jay Dawg is working on the REAL perfect drug! RAGE!!”

A sadistic smile returns to Jay Dawg, as he holds Ash in the air with the hanging tree. Finally, either by mercy or exhaustion, he drops Ash to the sidewalk. Ash lands hard on his back, his feet barely breaking the fall, rolling over and to his stomach. Ash barely gets to his knees, and looks down at the cracks in the sidewalk. JD steps back, looking down at Ash, he grabs the bandages on his head, soaked as can be, and pulls them off his head. His eyes closed once more. Jay Dawg thrusts forward with a vicious kick, connecting square in the facial region of Ash.

Riley: “I love it! JD is pounding on Ash!”

Ash stands up from the blast, but his balance is rocky, as he stumbles backward. JD rushes forward, throwing out a clothesline, but Ash ducks at the last moment! JD turns around, furious with Ash’s sudden burst of movement. Ketchum pops him with a kick to the ribs, knocking him to one knee. Ash fires with a palm strike, knocking JD back a step, and for the finale, Ash throws out an ultra stiff uppercut, hitting Jay Dawg in the lower chin, and knocking him to the hard cement!

Stevens: “Ha! Ash Ketchum just knocked Jay Dawg out!”

“Oy! POKEMANIA IS GOING TURBO!!! AWOOOOGA!!!”

Ash runs down the sidewalk as Jay Dawg suddenly sits up, looking straight at the back of Ash as he continues running.

“C’mere you little shit.” JD mutters as he gets to his feet, and starts to sprint after Ash.

Stevens: “And the chase is on!”

Riley: “Ash better hope that Jay Dawg doesn’t catch him!”

They sprint across the street, cars honk their horns at the two wrestlers not obeying the traffic laws. JD starts to close in on Ash, sticking his arm out for that final reach!

Riley: “On second thought… I hope JD does catch him!”

Ash is mere meters away from the bar and Jay Dawg clenches his hand over the back of Ash’s self-promoted “Pokemania still rules!” T-shirt! Closing his grip, JD stops and swings his weight. Ash has no choice, as the momentum carries him, and JD throws him into the side of the brick building! “OOF!!” is all Ash can say, as the side of his face meets the brick. JD twists Ash’s arm behind his back, applying a hammerlock and pulls Ash away from the building. He twists around once more, and swings the pokemaster into a nearby lamp pole! CLANG!!

Riley: “Jay Dawg is an officer of the WF and Ash is about to do hard time!”

JD pulls Ash away from the lamp pole and whips him forward into a street garbage can! Ash crashes over the garbage can, rolling over slightly faster then the can! JD looks down by the garbage can and Ash, and notices a vehicle parked beside them. He looks to the opposite side, and above he can see the fluorescent pink sign. “The Brawling Titty” is seconds away from being entered. JD looks down at Ash, who is once again returning to his feet, and shakes his head in shame.

Riley: “Hard time folks! Hard-fucking-time!”

Stevens: “Will you shut up!”

JD grabs the shoulder of Ash, and pulls him to his feet. With a hard Irish whip, he throws Ash into the car door! Ketchum squeals out in pain as JD steps into him, pulling his arm out, and wails him with a welt causing knife-edge chop! JD places his hand over the face of Ash, applying a claw with little pressure, he looks into his eyes. He tilts his head left, then right, lifting his hand up, he smacks Ash with a second knife-edge chop! Inside the arena, feelings of pain can be felt for Ash.

Stevens: “What is wrong with Jay Dawg!?”

Riley: “I have no idea! He’s just staring at Ash, chopping him in a streetfight!”

JD pulls his hand back one more time, and swings full force at Ash’s chest! Ketchum sidesteps, ducking the blast, he cradles Jay Dawg’s leg and hangs onto the arm. With his dose of adrenaline, he powers Jay Dawg off the sidewalk and slams him into the car hood with an Olympic Pikaslam! Ash lies half on the car, half-standing, he pushes himself off as Jay Dawg’s body lies in the dented hood.

Stevens: “And Ash just leveled Jay Dawg with the Pikeslam!”

Riley: “Bah! One lucky move and you brag like it’s the discovery that the government can’t handle our financial problems!”

Stevens: “You can be killed for information like that.”

Riley: “Pfft. it’s common knowledge that the government is full of idiots!”

Ash slides off the hood and to his feet, he shakes his body off and looks up at the bar. He looks back at Jay Dawg, who lays still once more, in that all too familiar way. Ash takes a deep breath and steps toward JD. He hops onto the car and pulls JD into a standing headscissors. Flashes of the pain Misty was in, enter his mind, he looks down at the man who caused those pains and tightens his grip. JD drops to his knees, and hugs onto the leg of Ash. Puzzled, Ash reaches down, and pulls on JD. But JD suddenly locks onto the leg, hugging for dear life.

“Please have Mercy, Ash! I’m sorry…”

…and with that pussy statement, JD pulls the legs out from underneath of Ash! The challenger lands hard on his back, wondering what in the world just happened, as JD pulls him back up. “Correction Ash! You’ll be sorry!” and he pulls Ash into a waistlock, powering him up AND SMASHING HIM INTO THE HOOD OF THE CAR WITH A GERMAN SUPLEX!!! The car roof collapses from the impact of the two men, Ash hangs upside down in a car that has now become a convertible. JD hangs over the shrapnel but pulls himself upward. A small crowd has gathered around, most are drunks from the titty bar. JD sits on the car hood and reaches into his pocket, once again pulling out the radio.

Stevens: “Jay Dawg is looking to end this battle! Will the radio work!?”

“Stubby? Can you hear me?”

“Yeah.”

“Ok. Where is the hardcore title hidden?”

“Ok, it’s inside the club. And it’s inside a *BUZZ* *CLICKER*”

“What? I can’t hear you?”

“*BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP*”

“Son of a bitch! Where the fuck are these things made!?” JD turns over to see imprinted into the radio, are the words “Made in Pokeland.” JD looks again, to make sure his eyes are correct, and tosses the radio aside. “Go figure!” is the only words he can muster out as he enters the door for the Brawling Titty.

Stevens: “Ha ha ha! Ash Ketchum outsmarted Jay Dawg! Now JD has to search in the bar for the hardcore title!”

Riley: “If he wasn’t put through a car! He would so get his ass kicked right now!”

Jay Dawg stands at the beginning of the bar. He carefully exams the bar, trying to find all the possible places a title could be hidden. Behind the till, where the bottles are. The tables to the left of the till where the local drunks are playing poker. The bathrooms to the right of the till and the strippers in the cages, in-between the bathroom and the till. The giant T-V which is airing the baseball game, in which the Red Sox are getting their asses kicked by the Blue Jays. Finally, to his immediate left, the jukebox, which is playing “Mr. Sandman” from the 60’s.

Riley: “Why aren’t they watching us!?”

Stevens: “Because they like to watch the Red Sox get their asses kicked!”

Riley: “Is that an inside joke?”

Stevens: “Yeah! The Sox Sux and should only be played on TBS!”

Riley: “TBS!? That’s sounds like gay initials for some gay chat op!”

JD finally steps forward, closing in on the bartender, who is polishing off some mugs. JD grabs a seat at the stool, and looks to his left.

“Heh. Sox are getting creamed by the Jays.”

The bartender smirks ever so lightly as he continues polishing the mug. JD smiles as he calls the man over.

“Hey. You wouldn’t happen to know if a guy hid my hardcore title here, would you?”

“Try the bathroom.” The bartender replies quickly.

JD flashes a small smile as he exits the stool and walks toward the bathroom. He catches a quick glimpse at the stripper, Keena Kupps, and steps into the room.

On the outside, two hands reach out the top of the car. They clasp the sides of the roof, and start to pull the body of Ash Ketchum out of the car. His head pops out first, as he looks over at some of the witnesses who are all just standing there. He finally pulls himself all the way out, and although in great pain, walks through the door of the Brawling Titty. Upon entering the bar, he quickly covers his eyes. “Oy! Pokemania has never seen a boobie before!”

Riley: “Bah ha ha ha! Then how did his girlfriend get pregnant!? Oh! I love it already!”

Stevens: “You’re one too talk, with the exception of man boobs!”

Riley: “Maybe she was the recipient of a Biker Gang Bang!” shouting out, completely ignoring Stevens. “Or maybe the Stork made it happen! Or maybe he rubbed his Pokesauce on her stomach and she’s fertilizing!”

Ash doesn’t even have to ask, as the bartender shouts to him the same words he did to Jay Dawg. “Check the bathroom!” Ash gives the bartender thumbs up, and heads toward the bathroom, covering his eyes as Keena unhooks her bra. Ash keeps his eyes covered as he runs through the bathroom door, unaware it’s the one with the skirt figure. Ash kicks open one of the stall doors. “Alright Jay Daw-

“AHHHYEEEEEEE!!!” the painful shrill of a woman’s voice, who Ash burst in on while she was... discarding.

“AHHHYEEEEEEE!!!” the painful shrill of Ash’s voice. “Pokemania found wrong room!” he confesses as he runs out.

In the correct bathroom, JD hears the screams, and turns around while facing the door. His back is to the stand up urinals. Mere moments later, the door bursts open to see the former hardcore champ himself. “Ash.” Is all JD can say, although rather annoyed.

“Jay Dawg.” The pokemaniac replies, staring him down in the duel.

“Don’t you know when to quit?” JD questions, reopening his eyes to stare a hole into Ash. The pokemaniac simply shakes his head, as he rushes for JD. The Dawgmeister stands still, smiling as Ash gets closer, closer, closer… and leaps into the air, demolishing Ash with the Thai Roundhouse! Sweet Tooth Loosening! Ash leaves his feet completely, as he falls in the air, before crashing into the bathroom floor. JD grabs Ketchum by the bottom of the jaw, and uses the force to pull him over the urinal.

“You’ll learn now!” JD shouts, as he sticks his face into the toilet water. Suddenly, a blue puck shaped object catches Jay Dawg’s eye. He smiles as he lets Ash rest and picks up the urinal cake. Grabbing the rather nasty object, he shoves it into the mouth of Ketchum! Ash starts to shake it off, but the conscious JD forces it all the way in, his hand covering Ketchum’s mouth. JD cocks his spare fist back, and swings full force, connecting with a brutal blow to the jaw! Taking his hand off the mouth and stepping back, Ash spits out the smaller chunks, turning his body over and tries vomiting the rest out!

Riley: “OH MY GOD!!! JAY DAWG IS A GENIUS!!!”

Stevens: “That was sick! Sick god dammit! What did Ash do to deserve this!?”

Riley: “Challenging Jay Dawg and demanding the match comes to mind!”

JD pulls Ash out of the urinal and tosses him over the sink. Ash leans over, his hair dripping with horrid smells and his gagging is almost enough to make some viewers do the same. JD thrusts his leg out, kicking him solidly in the open ribs. He grabs a hold of Ketchum and shoves him aside, right beside the towel dispenser. Ash grabs the towel dispenser, resting his head on it.

Stevens: “This is getting sick! Ash can barely move!”

However with his 19th wind, Ash pushes away from the wall, yanking the dispenser out and swings it full force into the cranium of JD! SMASH!! The towel dispenser is dented and JD staggers back multiple steps. Ash throws the dispenser forward, but JD catches it. He holds the dispenser out, staring at what hurt so much. SMASH!! Ash kicks the towel dispenser into Jay Dawg’s face with the Air Ketchum! JD is knocked to the wall, and his legs go out from underneath, crashing ass first to the floor.

Riley: “BOO!!”

Stevens: “Ash just modified one of his more famous maneuvers for this environment!”

Riley: “He got lucky!”

Stevens: “I wouldn’t call being force-fed a urinal cake, lucky!”

Ash leans over the sink, and starts to spit out the taste of the urinal cake. He takes a look over at JD, who is rising with the wall. A look of anything but sane creeps over his face, he is smiling, smiling like he knows what is going to happen. Like a pissed off anime fan who’s hentai has been taken away. Ash steps toward JD, and grabs him by the arm, with a shift of weight, he Irish whips JD to a toilet stall! JD smacks backfirst into the door, but it doesn’t swing open. “TUBULAR!!” Ash shouts, as a rush forward, diving at the mid-section of JD with full force, and spears him through the toilet stall door with the Sonic Boom!

Stevens: “Go Ash!”

The full power of the gore shatters the door, as Ash plants JD over the toilet seat. Ash stands up and pulls JD up as well, he scoops the hardcore champ onto his shoulder, and lowers him down, headfirst into the toilet! Jay Dawg’s head is clearly dunked as Ash holds him by the legs. The camera cuts to the arena, where they are watching it on the SmarkTron, and the crowd goes insane!

Stevens: “Do it, Ash!”

Riley: “NO!!!”

Ash reaches forward, the legs resting on his shoulder as he catches the handle, fiddling for a few seconds before successfully pushing it down, and the toilet flushes!

Stevens: “Yes! Revenge for that urinal cake!”

Ash lifts Jay Dawg’s legs up and down like he’s a plunger. After many seconds of successful swirls, Ash lets the legs drop and exit the stall. He slowly steps out of the stall, using the nearby wall for balance, he stumbles on out of the room. JD gets his head out of the toilet, hair soaking as the water drips down his face. His face is covered in water, but he continues staring, eyes closed. He suddenly snaps his head up, eyes reopen with the water splashing. He grabs the bottom of the toilet, and starts to heave. RRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIPP!! Yanking the toilet out of the stall! JD carries the toilet with a vengeance, looking for Ketchum.

Riley: “Ha! Jay Dawg will keep coming!”

Stevens: “Oh no! This is stepping too far!”

JD walks through the bathroom door, holding the toilet high above his head. Looking past the stripper, the bartender, and the Blue Jays hitting a grandslam. There stands Ash Ketchum, talking to many of the local drunks, trying to figure out where a hardcore title is hidden. JD walks forward, carrying the sanitary weapon, less then a meter behind Ash, he swings the toilet down! Ash steps over to talk to another drunk, and SMASH!! The drunk he was talking too has just been knocked out cold with chunks of a broken toilet over him! “Kluk Kluk Kluk KA-OWE THAT KLUKKING HURT!!!” Ash pivots to face JD as the body of the Exploding Chicken drops to the floor. Ketchum kicks him in the ribs, acting fast; he grabs JD by the back of the pants and the neck, and throws him at the bar table!

Stevens: “Jay Dawg just broke that toilet over that poor fellow! On second thought… he looked familiar!”

Riley: “And there’s another lawsuit for the Jay Dawg. Wait… must think… light heavyweight champion… impaled McCheese… nope… drawing a blank! ”

Ash holds JD on the table, and begins to slide him on his chest like those old westerns! JD holds his hands out, trying to brace as he screams out in shock. He moves his hands slightly, and sees the till on his course. He puts his arms back up for guard and SMASH!! Headfirst into the till, DING DING DING, the cash register opens and twenties start to spill out everywhere! “Oy! Pokemania is sorry!” The bartender stares at Ash, wondering what he did to deserve this. He finally tries to be courteous, and offers the pokemaniac a drink. “Oy! Pokemania has to be good role model and not drink!”

Riley: “How gay is that!?”

Stevens: “Gayer then the sweaty man sex you had with the ghost of Mr. Galatea last night?”

Riley: “No. I was banging Yo momma last night!”

Stevens: “Sounds more like my momma was slapping you, ho!”

…

Riley: “Die.”

Ash pulls JD off the bar table, over his shoulder and spins him forward. Belly-to-belly, Ash drops to the floor, driving JD headfirst into the hardwood, letting him fall limp from the impact of the Mew Driver! Ash grabs the top of the bar table and starts to pull him off the floor.

Stevens: “Mew Driver! Ash just flattened Jay Dawg!”

Riley: “Now all he has to do is find the hardcore title! You know, I’m starting to wonder if that title is actually in the bar!”

Ash steps onto a nearby stool, and pushes himself onto the table once more. JD starts to grab a stool, slowly sitting up, his head completely dazed.

Stevens: “Ash has flattened Jay Dawg! I wonder if he knows what dimension he is in!”

Riley: “He’s still getting up!”

JD lifts his arm up onto the table, feeling his hand around, as the Pokemaniac stands above. JD suddenly clasps onto his ankle, pulling himself all the way up and grabs the spare ankle! JD pulls himself to the top of the stool, and stands onto the table. Ash reaches down, grabbing him by the hair, and tugs him to the top! Ash spins him around and pulls him into a half nelson, locking on a choke for the Tazzmission! He lifts up for the Lullaby of Jigglypuff! JD suddenly twists sideways, pulling into a back to back position and spins around some more. JD locks on a facelock, and into a vertical suplex position, he snaps backward, smashing Ash with a snap suplex on the table!

Riley: “Yes! Ash is out cold!”

Stevens: “I don’t believe it! But it ain’t over yet!”

JD coldly stares at the body of Ash, fallen, in pain. He rolls off the table and into the bar. He grabs a bottle of R&R whiskey, and opens it up. He looks down at Ash, takes a swig of the drink, and then smashes the bottle over Ash’s head! “GIMME SOME MORE BOOZE!!!” he shouts at the bartender, who pauses cleaning his mugs, and hands JD a bottle of bacardi. JD opens the bottle, and chugs down as much as he can take, his face turning sour as he releases the bottle, he smashes it over the head of Ash once more! JD tosses the broken glass aside and grabs a hold of a beer bottle, he looks closely at it, saying Molson Canadian, and chugs the beer back. A few seconds later, the bottle is emptied, and JD smashes the bottle over the face of Ash Ketchum!

Riley: “Ha! Go anti hero Jay Dawg!”

Stevens: “Shut up, Riley! JD is supposed to be looking for the hardcore title!”

Riley: “Instead he is kicking the snot out of Ash! I love it!”

JD grabs one more beer, pops the cap open, and guzzles the bottle down! He spits it back out seconds after and stares at the beer. “Buschlight. America’s own.”

“Son of a bitch! What type of shitty ass beer do you yanks drink!?” JD questions, before smashing the bottle over the head of Ash, liquor and glass now surrounding his face!

Riley: “Ha ha ha! The American beer is inferior to Canadian beer!”

Stevens: “Well why don’t you just move to Canada!”

Riley: “I think I will, eh!”

JD pushes Ash off the bartable, and rolls him toward the door. JD looks to his right, door’s left, and sees the Jukebox. He looks down at Ash who is in perfect position, and grabs the jukebox. He pulls the jukebox with all his might, yanking it out of the wall, and slamming it down straight for Ash Ketchum! But the pokemaniac moves! The jukebox slams into the floor, electric sparks fly beside Ash Ketchum!

Riley: “Ash better watch out or he’ll be a pile of Ashes once again!”

Angered, JD pulls Ash up and into a standing headscissors. He powers the pokemaniac up, and everyone in the bar stops what they are doing, time pauses except for the breasts on Keena Kupps, which shake like jello. Holding Ash inverted belly-to-back. JD sits out on the jukebox, slamming the head of Ash Ketchum into it! The small wooden holding breaks and Ash bounces off it, landing on his back beside it!

Riley: “Who let the Dawg out into the jukebox, Yo!”

Stevens: “What a sick piledriver! But where is the hardcore title!?”

JD continues sitting on the jukebox, sitting still, he looks forward, seemingly mesmerized by the woman stripping, but those who really know Jay Dawg, know he is happy that he just flattened Ash. Suddenly, a sparkling glimmer catches his eye. He looks in between his legs, to see something shiny. Something that is gold. JD punches the wood open, and like buried treasure, he rips open the shrapnel, pulling away the chunks of wood. There lies the hardcore title! JD yanks it up and shows it to the cameraman.

Riley: “He has it! Jay Dawg found the hardcore title!”

Stevens: “I don’t believe it! Jay Dawg retains the hardcore title in another hard fought battle!”

JD stands up, looking around his perimeter. The bathroom covered in water, the broken alcohol bottles, the register emptied of cash, the man with a toilet for a head, the broken jukebox, the car outside with the broken roof and the body of Ash Ketchum lying beside the jukebox. JD just shrugs his shoulders.

“Hey Bartender? Can I get a beer to go?”

July 16, 2002

“This... is CNN.” *click* “Girls Gone Wild! Order now-” *click* “Please, oh God, please join Smartmarks Championship Wrestling!” *click* “Hello, I’m Ted Flink.” *click click click click click* “WELCOME BACK TO SMARKDOWN, EVERYONE!” *click* ...wait, dammit. *click*

“-you to join us tonight... the tension in the SWF is building, as every faction in the federation is mustering their forces, from Creative Control to the Magnificent Seven. If you’ve already forgotten, I’m Mark Stevens!”

“And if you’ve forgotten, you’re old or something! I’m also Bobby Riley, ringside announcer extraordinaire. We’re gathered here today to pay our respects to the career of one Thoth, who-”

“Can it Riley, it’s not like he’s dead or something.”

“No, but he got his ass kicked last Friday on Storm. What an upset win by the Magnificent Seven! Even with Spider Nekura on his side, The Clan fell victim to sheer athleticism and ingenuity! And I bet that will continue to happen tonight! I predict Stryke wins this upcoming match, and the Boston Strangler, the interim leader of the Magnificent Seven, goes on to win our main event. And, just look!” Bobby Riley reaches down under the desk and bulls out a blue T-shirt, made to look like part of Superman’s outfit, except that the S is replaced by “M7”. And on the back, it says “We’re better than you.”

“You know,” continues Riley, “The original slogan on the back was “Seven heads are better than one,” but that was sorta lame. Took too long to say. And nothing screams ruthless aggression like “We’re better than you.””

And somewhere in TV land, a young man hears “ruthless aggression” and then his head explodes.

“Well, whatever, Riley. Whatever helps you get out of bed in the morning.”

“A large sack of money for my shilling efforts!”

Mark Stevens brings a hand to his face, trying to hide himself from embarrassment. “In ANY case, tonight it’s a one on one match, as Thoth tries to get some retribution from Stryke, who was victorious last Friday. Hopefully, this isn’t the start of another downward slide for Thoth, who seems to be working his way towards title contention.”

“Ooh... working his way,” says Riley, mockingly. “Stryke’s already been a double champion, and he’s got a bright future ahead of him. What’s the last title Thoth held? The Intercontinental Television title... for like a week? God-DAMN, cracker needs work.”

The arena darkens, then changes to a deep, cool blue. “Quarantined” by At The Drive-in has already started blaring softly over the arena’s PA system, and Funyon, bathed in a color that so totally matches his outfit, raises the microphone to speak.

“The following contest is scheduled for about six or seven falls!” After the crowd is stunned quiet, he continues, “Okay, just kidding. One fall. Introducing first, weighing in at 236 pounds, he is a member of the Clan... THOOOOOTH!”

The Balancer, wearing a dress shirt and black, not red pants, and most noticeably, not wearing a Clan robe, enters the arena of battle, the place where winners are made, and losers are also made. He starts walking down the ramp, staying relatively humble, avoiding the looks of the crowd as he ventures down to ringside.

“Thoth acting very humble here. He’s definitely not pleased with his performance this past Friday, and his demeanor reflects it.”

Riley holds up the Magnificent Seven shirt for Thoth to see as the Balancer passes by. Thoth ignores it on purpose, climbing the ring ropes and standing atop the structure itself. He does not raise his arms; rather, he drops down silently, awaiting his opponent. He adjusts his wristbands, trying to focus on the task at hand.

“So you wanna be a Rock Superstar, and live large...”

A white spotlight flickers on an otherwise dark stage, and then blue and red pyro fire marvelously, sparkling away into the darkness. Stryke appears to a loud chorus of boos and soaks them up with as much panache and eagerness as a normal person would soak up cheers.

“And his opponent,” says Funyon, “From Sydney, Australia, weighing in at 219 pounds... STRRYYYYKE!”

“And here comes Stryke to the ring, his demeanor the exact antithesis of Thoth’s.” He doesn’t walk, he saunters, smiling broadly down the ramp, hopping into the ring and pointing at Thoth, making motions to beat and humiliate him in the center of the ring by pinfall... 1, 2, 3. Thoth remains motionless as the lights come back on and the bell rings.

*DING DING DING*

Stryke charges toward Thoth, who makes little effort to dodge, moving a little bit to the side. He was trying to start circling The Showstopper, but his movements are sluggish; they lack energy. Stryke quickly locks up with Thoth and gains the advantage, twisting the arm. He yanks down on the appendage repeatedly, hoping to tear the shoulder bone out of its socket. Thoth yelps out with each tug, but even the yelps and cries of pain are mechanical in nature than organic. Stryke frowns, whipping Thoth to the ropes, and then taking him down with a clothesline. Thoth makes a halfhearted effort to get up, but Stryke stomps him flat back down onto the mat, and continues laying in the boots, screaming for Thoth to get up, and then making sure he cannot by smashing hard onto his back. He rolls the Balancer over, and makes the early cover...

ONE!

TWO... and a kickout from Thoth. Stryke pulls him up by the hair, bringing him to his feet and hooking him for a front facelock and a suplex... and gets him up with ease, slamming him down on the other side of the ring.

“Thoth doesn’t seem to be putting up much of a fight so far, which is very uncharacteristic of the Clan member. What do you think, Riley?”

“He looks like that depressed kid from The Cure.”

“Which one?”

“Good point. I’d have to say all of them rolled up onto one.”

Stryke brings Thoth to his feet, and slaps him hard across the face, trying both to humiliate him and knock some fighting spirit into him. Thoth staggers, but remains on his feet, turning back towards the Showstopper and throwing a punch! Albeit, a weak punch, one easily parried by Stryke, and countered with a punch of its very own. Stryke throws another right hand, forcing Thoth into the corner and unloading a series of blows to Thoth’s stomach. The Balancer struggles, trying to defend himself, but him movements are just slow, without spirit. Stryke shakes his head, whipping Thoth to the opposite corner, following with a vicious clothesline to the top of Thoth’s chest, just below the neck. Stryke winds up, heaving Thoth to the other side once again, and charging in with reckless abandon, angry that Thoth isn’t putting up a fight...

And the Balancer floors him with a surprise clothesline out of the corner! The crowd comes alive with a big pop!

“Woah! Whatever was eating at Thoth before, seems to be well under control,” remarks an elated Mark Stevens, as Thoth looks down with dilated pupils and flaring nostrils at Stryke, who fights his way back up. Thoth lays in some hammering blows to the back of Stryke’s neck, pointing the knuckles down, trying to drive all of his rage and his emotion into Stryke’s vital joints. Stryke breaks out of it and stands erect, throwing a punch which Thoth dodges, leaning to the side. As he comes back towards his center, he lifts his leg, letting his body’s momentum increase the force of the roundhouse kick he is about to throw at Stryke’s face. Stryke can’t dodge in time, and takes it right on the chin, dropping down to the mat in a heap. Thoth doesn’t smile, or snicker, or laugh. He is visibly angry, and avoids looking at the crowd or acknowledging them.

“Thoth is still ashamed to be watched by the thousands of people in this arena, yet at the same time, he wants to take all his frustrations, all the pain of suffering a loss, out on Stryke tonight. And not only that, but Thoth has a vendetta against Chris Wilson and anyone associated with him! And with Wilson out of action for the moment, and with Stryke in the ring at this time, that means Stryke, right now, is Thoth’s number one target.”

Thoth stomps on Stryke, trying to make a hole through his skin, his bones, and when that doesn’t work, he drops elbows repeatedly across the back. Thoth screams out loud with each blow he lands, forcing some part of his rage, his soul, onto Stryke. He lifts the showstopper up, hooks him for a suplex, and snaps him over with ease and fury, floating over into the pin.

ONE!

TWO!

TH- Kickout from Stryke. Thoth pulls him up by the hair, with what could only be described as the reverse of a frown on his countenance. He grabs Stryke’s trunks, spins him around, and heaves him under the bottom turnbuckle, smacking his spine into the steel pole. Thoth grabs the ropes. leaning into them for support, and kicks Stryke, who is lying under the bottom rope, feeling the pain. Thoth pulls him out from under the bottom rope and gets him to his feet. Stryke stumbles a bit, but it means nothing to the Balancer, who hurls Stryke to the mercy of the ropes, and then leaps into the air, extending a leg for Stryke to run into on the rebound. He takes it on the chin, and goes down to Thoth’s glee, as he hooks the leg for the cover...

ONE!

TWO!

TH- Shoulder up from Stryke. Thoth pulls him up, hooking him for a Double Arm DDT, and then driving him into the mat. But before he has a chance to make the cover, a loud round of boos start to emerge. starting from the crowd sections near the entryway and rippling outward. Thoth looks toward that direction, and frowns.

“Well, look who decided to join the party.”

The Boston Strangler, TNT, Danny Williams, and Tyler McClelland are walking down the ramp, a spotlight shining on them. They make their entrance slowly, methodically. They know that their presence indicates a shift in the momentum of the match. Thoth turns his focus away from Stryke to watch the members of the Magnificent Seven stroll down and surround the ring. Thoth spins around in the ring, seeing his chances of getting out in one piece, much less winning, decrease dramatically.

“What are they doing out here? Things are definitely not looking up for the Balancer tonight.”

“Why are you talking like there’s mischief afoot? It’s not like the Magnificent Seven are going to do things like distract the referee, or interrupt pinfalls... they’re just here to cheer their teammate on. You see, the Magnificent Seven is a team.” Riley holds up the shirt again, which by the way, you can order at SWFStore.com. Even though SWFStore.com doesn’t actually exist. But then this federation doesn’t really exist... or does it? And paradoxically... oh, fuck it.

Thoth looks around... but he doesn’t look behind himself, as Stryke schoolboys him!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE- No! Thoth has enough presence of mind to roll up and out of the pinning predicament. He stumbles forward, and Stryke jumps up, flipping his body forward and dropkicking Thoth clean against the chest, his center of gravity. He goes down cleanly, falling softly... almost poetically into the mat... though the impact is harsh. Stryke brings Thoth up, and whips him to the ropes, catching him on the return with a VICIOUS spinebuster, drawing awe from the crowd and nods and applause from the four members of the Magnificent Seven that surround the ring. Energized by the presence of his teammates, Stryke hurries to the nearest turnbuckle, scaling it quickly and looking out at the fans, grinning as Thoth lies in a heap under him. The Showstopper flexes his knees, and takes to the sky, flipping back, back, back, back, back, and goes beyond the span of a moonsault, to land with his knees on Thoth’s chest!

“WOW! I know Thoth does a kneedrop off the top,” remarks Riley, “But man oh man, Stryke does it so much better!” Stryke leans down, falling into the cover...

ONE!

TWO!

THRE- And Thoth narrowly gets the shoulder up. Stryke shrugs it off, and listens to Tyler McClelland shout advice from his position near the announce table. Stryke drags Thoth towards the same corner he just leaped off of, and nearly crotches him as he yanks on his legs. He goes to the outside, and adjusts Thoth’s legs into... a figure four! The crowd pops for the ingenuity of the move, but starts to boo louder as Stryke locks it in. Thoth, with nowhere to go, tries to hold on for as long as he can.

“Thoth cannot tap out to this figure four because Stryke is on the outside! All he can do is wait for the referee to utilize his ten count.” So notes Stevens, who is a master of all the intricacies of the rules of the Smarks Wrestling Federation. In contrast, Riley knows that chairs are bad... but title belts as weapons are iffy. The referee, meanwhile, counts higher, as Thoth closes his eyes and screams loud, trying to push the pain out of his mind... Four! Five! Six! The numbers don’t seem to end, they just melt into one another as an abstract representation of the passage of time... Seven! Eight! And Stryke lets go, rolling into the ring just after the count of nine. He stomps on Thoth’s sore and stretched legs, imagining with glee how much they must be hurting him right now. He places one of Thoth’s legs on the bottom rope, steps back a few paces, and then runs forward, dropping an elbow across the lower leg of Thoth. There is little give in Thoth’s leg, and crowd is hushed.

“Did it break? Is it broken? No? Thank God,” says Stevens, exhaling a sigh of relief. But although the leg isn’t broken, Thoth is in a great deal of pain. Stryke picks up the leg, and starts to twist it in a direction that he would view as painful. Thoth clenches his fists, trying to avoid tapping out, but the delicious temptation to end the pain is right there in front of him, asking him what he says; does he tap out?

Thoth closes his eyes, reaches out... and grabs a rope! Stryke sees it, and lets go immediately, on reflex. This causes the Boston Strangler to admonish Stryke, telling him to keep the hold on until the referee reaches four. Stryke nods absent-mindedly, bringing Thoth to his feet and lifting his injured leg. Thoth hops up and down on one leg, until he lifts up for an Enzuigiri!... which Stryke ducks. Thoth lands back on his foot, as Stryke’s eyes glimmer in anticipation of pain he is about to inflict on the Balancer... but Thoth hops, spinning the other way and catching Stryke in the jaw once again, this time with a reverse Enzuigiri. Stryke stays standing, but lets go of Thoth’s leg to tend to his jaw. Thoth palms the back of his head, and leaps forward, facebuster-ing into the canvas. Thoth then tries to get up... but he can’t! His world spins as the pain in his leg shoots up to his spine, and Thoth falls over onto the mat, clutching at his leg. Stryke gets up first, as Thoth struggles to gain his footing, adjusting his body weight to favor his good leg. Stryke makes that struggle all moot, as he snatches Thoth’s injured foot with a drop toe hold, taking the Balancer down to the mat. Stryke is sure to shift the foot a little bit before the Balancer crashes to the mat, inducing additional pain on the foot. Stryke rolls him over and tries to make the cover...

ONE!

TWO!

THRE- Shoulder up from Thoth. “Mark Stevens, do you see what’s going on here? This match is telling a story. An epic story. The story of how the old, in Thoth, was replaced by the new, in Stryke, and in the rest of the Magnificent Seven.” And he flashes the shirt too.

Stryke pulls up Thoth by his thin red hair, and hugs him close. No, they’re not new best friends, because Stryke lifts him up and heaves him overhead, sending him to crash overhead near the edge of the ring. Thoth flails around weakly, his limbs barely moving. He rolls out of the ring... which is definitely a mistake. From around the ring, Strangler, Williams, Thompson, and McClelland start to approach. TNT is the closest to Thoth, but he holds his ground, waiting for a strength that only comes in numbers. Thoth looks up to see two men on either side of him, and one man in the ring that would love to get his hands on him. Actually they all want their hands on him. Thoth seizes up, his mind running at a million miles an hour. This is also compounded by the sharp pains in his leg. Thoth looks left, looks right, and reluctantly hops up onto the apron, where Stryke pulls him over the ropes with the Cliffhanger, driving his head like a railroad spike into the canvas. Thoth flops over naturally onto his back, and Stryke greedily hooks the leg...

ONE!

TWO!

THREE- Thoth shoots the arm up, rolling over onto his side, breathing heavily. Stryke frowns at the referee, taking issue with the speed of his count. He tucks Thoth’s 236 pounds in close to himself as he rises up. Thoth stands dazed, leaning to one side. Stryke rocks his field of vision with a flurry of hard lefts and rights. Stryke finally brings his man down with a swinging neckbreaker. Thoth stays down, and Stryke urges him to come back up in his own way, dropping elbows across his back. Thoth rolls out of the way, into t he corner, climbing up slowly, sluggishly to his feet.

“Thoth look like a cold-blooded lizard here. Very sluggish, very slow to react. And, from a personal standpoint, it’s unsettling to see someone as much of a cool customer as Thoth being taken to the watershed by something no less than a gang attack.”

“A gang attack? A gang attack?! How many times has anyone out of the Magnificent Seven, who by the way, are better than you, other than Stryke, laid their hands on Thoth. None. Not once. You cannot argue with the facts, Grand Slam Mark Stevens.”

Thoth turns out, facing the center of the ring and the vicious Stryke. One of his eyes is open, the other shut, possibly swollen. Stryke leans him back and lands a hard knife-edge chop across his bare chest. As the crowd lets out a Ric Flair-like shout of approval, Thoth hangs down, his arms secured behind the top ropes. Stryke lifts him back up, and another chop. Thoth falls over, his arms unhooking themselves, as he tips over, the right side of his face making a thud against the pale blue mat. Stryke looks down, shaking his head in disgust.

The crowd starts to buzz... and they start to chant. It starts out in separated sections, then it grows together, the aural emissions meeting each other and exploding out towards the sky, like droplets from a faucet forming their own private ocean.

“THOTH!” “THOTH!” “THOTH!” “THOTH!” “THOTH!”

Stryke pulls up the Balancer amidst a sea of growing crowd support for the Clan member. Stryke lands a right hand, trying to knock the Balancer down for the count, boxing style. Thoth staggers, but stays standing. Now a punishing left hand from the self-proclaimed Showstopper... but Thoth will not go down! He reels against the ropes, holding onto them for support. The chants continue to grow louder, and Thoth can hear them now, perking up ever so slightly to acknowledge the fans. Stryke grabs Thoth by the head and rears up, jamming an elbow into the back of Thoth’s head...

And the Balancer no-sells. Thoth looks up with wide eyes at Stryke, whose countenance turns quizzical with quizzicalness. Stryke soon gets the point as Thoth grabs Stryke’s face and plows it into his shoulder as he drops to a sitting position! He bounces away, and Thoth, with trepidation, gets to his feet, standing tall over the prone member of M-7. He looks up, out at the crowd, then at the turnbuckle. Out to the apron he goes, and up top he climbs. He takes to the air, tucking his knees in, aiming them like points at Stryke’s chest...

And connects! The representatives of M-7 at ringside all flinch reflexively as Thoth kicks out his feet, turning around to make the cover...

ONE!

TWO!

THREE- No! No! No! Stryke just in the nick of time, with the shoulder... the crowd falls deflated, but Thoth’s spirits are not dampened. He drops a quick elbow to Stryke’s thigh, causing him to sit up in pain, then the Balancer runs into the ropes behind Stryke, driving a knee into the back of his head on the rebound. Another cover...

ONE!

TWO!

THREE- Wait a minute! Wait a minute! Taylor Nicholas Thompson pulls the referee out of the ring!

“What the hell is that? ‘Just there for moral support,’ Bobby Riley? I knew this would get ugly, and now it is!”

Taylor knocks the poor referee out with a right hand, while Thoth leans over the ropes, yelling obscenities at the aggressors. Other SWF officials come out from the back, restraining M-7. Another referee comes out, but before he can get to the ring, Stryke sneaks in a low blow and then schoolboys the Balancer over for the pin. The referee slides into the ring, and starts the count...

ONE!

TWO!

THREE! No! Thoth kicks out!

“Were it not for the fact that the referee wasn’t in position for the pin, Stryke would have had his second victory in a row!” exclaims Mark Stevens, who has suffered his share of injustices throughout his career. Stryke gets up like a rocket, holding his head in his hands, not believing that Thoth was able to kick out even after that plan executed by the Magnificent Seven. Frowning, Stryke pulls Thoth up to his feet and heaves him overhead, trying to set up for the Overdrive... but Thoth lands behind the Showstopper, running him into the ropes, trying to roll him over for the pin, but Stryke locks his arms under the top rope, pushing Thoth away, and striking him down with a diving clothesline. Stryke tries to make the cover... but he’s too tired! meanwhile, on the outside, the Magnificent Seven are struggling with the officials on the outside... and actually knocking them out, to Mark Stevens’s horror.

“What the...? Can you believe this! This is a blatant disrespect for the system of authority here in the Smarks Wrestling Federation! What in the hell is Chris Wilson teaching these young rookies?”

Thoth fights his way up just as Stryke does, and they start slugging it out with each other, when from behind the other members of M-7 climb into the ring, starting to beat down the Balancer.

“THE HELL?! THIS IS BULLSHIT!”

Each man takes a turn striking Thoth in the face, until he finally goes down. Stryke orders him picked up, which TNT and Strangler do with ease. Strangler, especially, seems to be enjoying this beatdown of his former Clanmate. Stryke lifts Thoth overhead, then drops him forward with the Overdrive! He crashes down, but he hasn’t even settled in the ring when Stryke goes outside, grabbing two chairs. He folds them up, and holds them, one in each hand, as Danny and Outcast prop the Balancer up. He rears back...

And crushes Thoth’s head between the metal chairs! The crowd is booing, throwing trash into the ring and whatnot, until Tom Flesher, Fallout, and Chris Raynor run down the ramp, charging into the ring. The Magnificent Seven quickly clear out, as the present Clan members try to help Thoth to his feet, while Raynor keeps an eye out in case M-7 tries anything sneaky. They walk backwards up the ramp, laughing and pointing, while Thoth struggles to hold his head up.

“If there’s one silver lining in this whole incident, it’s that the Midnight Carnival is working together with the Clan to beat back the Magnificent Seven... God! My tongue feels filthy just saying that name! Look at them! There’s nothing magnificent about them! They’re a bunch of cowards who can’t fight one on one!”

“Oh yeah? Well answer this. Thoth or Stryke? Who’s able to stand up under their own power right now?”

One look to the ring, and it’s easy to see the answer. As Thoth tries his best to look at the man who is taunting him from the entry ramp, Fallout and Tom hoist him up by his arms, looks of concern on their faces.

“Well, however this ends, IF this ends, it’s not going to be pretty. Up next though, our main event tonight! Triple threat, Magnificent Seven versus Clan versus Carnival, as it’s The Boston Strangler versus Spider Nekura versus the SWF World Champion, Edwin MacPhisto! The title isn’t on the line, but pride and egos are!”

Funyon finally announces that Thoth is the winner of the match as a result of disqualification, but it doesn’t do anything to lift the Balancer’s spirits. Just before the camera cuts to commercial, the camera cuts to a close up of the Balancer’s face... and he’s mad.

July 16, 2002

As the Thoth/Stryke match ends, the Boston Strangler clicks off the TV, and turns to Frost and TNT, the men sitting beside him. “Gentlemen, I have a match now” remarks Strangler. “But before I go, I need to ask a little favor from you two.”

“What’s up, TBS?” asks TNT, looking intently at Strangler.

“I have a small t…”

Strangler is cut off in mid-sentence by Stryke, who comes barging into the locker room, soaked in sweat from his match. He grabs a towel out of his locker and begins to clean himself off before acknowledging his stablemates.

“Hey Frost, TNT, Strangler…wait, why are you still here? You have a match in two minutes!”

“I’m just discussing some business with Frost and TNT here. I’ll be out there in time. Don’t worry.”

Stryke shrugs. “Whatever, man. I’m gonna go grab some grub.”

With that, Stryke turns to leave. As the door slams behind him, Strangler turns back to Frost and Thompson, who are awaiting the rest of Strangler’s news. “Now, are you two ready to do this job?”

“Can this wait ten minutes?” asks TNT. “Stryke was gonna get me some chicken…”

“Forget the chicken.” comes the biting reply from Strangler. “If you do this right, you’ll get back before Stryke does. And this NEEDS to be done right. That punk Erek Taylor decided he wanted to screw with me. He humiliated me, and he decided he wanted to beat me up too. Well, I went into his tag match on Storm, but that’s not enough for me. Erek Taylor needs to be taught a lesson. I’d love to do it myself, but unfortunately, I have a big match coming up. Therefore, I turned to the SWF’s newest tag team for some help. I think that to tune up for your tag match on Storm with MacPhisto and Raynor, you should show Erek Taylor just how bad a mistake he made.”

TNT juts in, trying to get in on the action. “How bad do you want him roughed up?”

Strangler smirks, an evil look on his face. “Leave him conscious…I want him to know exactly who did this to him. Make sure he knows that when he decided to mess with the Boston Strangler, he got a lot more than he bargained for.”

With that, Strangler strides out of the room, and heads for the ring, following the same path that Stryke took just a moment before. Frost and TNT look at each other before Frost gets to his feet. “All right, TNT. Go get your bat. We’ll show Taylor just how big a mistake he made.”

*******************

Erek Taylor gets to his feet, his sports bag slung over his shoulder. Ash Ketchum pauses Virtua Fighter 4 and asks “Erek, you leaving now? The main event hasn’t started yet!”

Erek, with the ever-present grin on his face, turns to Ash. “Yeah, I know, but I got a date tonight. And although I’d love to see the Bostonian Bitch get his ass handed to him by MacPhisto and Nekura, I don’t know if I could handle watching 15 minutes of that giant, ugly, greasy freak. So I’m gonna head out early, beat the traffic.”

Ash smiles. “Can’t say I blame you, Erek. Have fun tonight. And be careful. Strangler’s a vicious guy with a lot of people to back him up. Just because he isn’t there doesn’t mean someone else won’t be.”

“Don’t worry about me, Ash. I’ve always taken care of myself. If I were you, I’d be worrying about LDP and his vicious videogame cheating.”

Ash looks over and sees LDP, who has unpaused the game, kicking the crap out of Ash’s character. “Dammit Pete, you said you’d stop doing that!” whines Ash as Pete chuckles, landing a massive combo on Ash’s poor, broken, cyber-self. As Ash starts yelling at Pete, Erek chuckles and leaves the locker room behind. Taylor slips a pair of headphones, and drowns out the background noise of the busy arena with Trust Company. Taylor walks briskly toward the parking lot, humming under his breath as he turns the corner into the parking lot. As Taylor heads toward his car, he notices movement out of the corner of his eye, and notices Frost coming out of the shadows, with an aggressive look in his eye. “Damn, first Strangler, now you? The Magnificent Seven better not have any other big men I have to humiliate!” quips Taylor as Frost, looking emotionless, lunges for Taylor. Taylor drops the bag around his shoulder and darts out of the way, easily avoiding Frost. Frost glances over at Taylor, who has a big, cocky grin on his face. “What’s the matter, Frosty? Did that match with Merc really take that much out of you?” Frost shows a hint of anger, and lunges after Erek with slightly more zip this time. Once again, Taylor easily evades the Icelandic giant, and jogs in place as Frost turns to face him again. “C’mon Frost! You can do it! All you have to do is cat…”

Taylor is silenced as TNT, from behind, sends his bat sailing squarely into the back of Taylor. Taylor’s cocky remarks are ceased, replaced by a low moan, as he drops to the mat in obvious pain. Frost cracks a grin as TNT steps out of the shadows, bat cocked. He drives the bat into the side of Taylor’s ribcage, sending Erek rolling along the ground. TNT raises the bat for a third time, but Frost holds him up. “This one is mine” declares Frost. TNT shrugs and puts the bat down as Frost reaches down and picks up the battered ICTV champion. “This is from the Boston Strangler and the rest of the Magnificent Seven” informs Frost, with a grin showing underneath the businesslike expression. “7 of us. 1 of you. I don’t like your odds.”

With that, Frost lifts Taylor into the air, and drives him onto the concrete floor with a double underhook powerbomb. Taylor lies limp on the ground from the Early Winter as Frost gets up, a satisfied look on his face. TNT walks over, and looks at the motionless Taylor on the ground. “Hey Frost, nice work…but one question: Aren’t there three people in XF9?”

Frost stares at TNT. “Shut up, Thompson. Let’s go get you your chicken.”

TNT and Frost begin to exit the garage, with TNT still rambling on. “But seriously, even if it sounds less imtimidating, the right way to have done that would be ‘7 of us, 3 of you.’ And people wonder why giants are stereotyped as dumb. I mean…OW! That hurt, dammit!”

“Heh heh heh…”

Frost’s chuckle reverberates through the empty, still parking lot. As the echo of Frost’s laugh disappears into the air, the only sound comes from Erek Taylor’s headphones, as “Downfall” by Trust Company echoes thinly through the garage.

July 16, 2002

We return from commercial break to the rip-roaring, riled-up crowd of the Richmond Coliseum in Virginia, the finest state in the world when it comes to…uhh…cows. “Welcome back to the Coliseum,” shouts Mark Stevens, raising his voice over the cheers of the crowd, “and welcome back to our main event tonight on SWF Smarkdown! We’ve already seen one hell of a show thus far, but business is about to pick up: our three stable, three-man showdown is upon us!”

“And if there’s any justice in the world,” snaps Bobby Riley, “then tonight we’ll see the somewhat rocky alliance between the Midnight Carnival and the Clan finally crack! Riley…has…spoken!” Mark Stevens sighs.

“You know, Bobby, I know you love the Boston Strangler, especially now that he’s joined up with Chris Wilson, but I really don’t think the catchphrase suits you.”

“…Riley…has…”

“Stop that! It’s stupid!”

“No it’s not! Riley…has…”

And, with all the gentle touch of a swift mercy killing, Mark Stevens shoves a nearby bottle of water into Bobby Riley’s mouth. “That’s much better.” As Riley gags and sputters, Mark stares into the camera and gives the fans at home an overview. “Up next is triple threat match between three men, all rising to the top of the federation of late: first, we have the Boston Strangler, Chris Wilson’s right-hand man and a lethal member of the Magnificent Seven! Then there’s perhaps the favorite tonight, our double champion, world and tag team, my good friend Edwin MacPhisto…and then, there’s the wild card.” Stevens shifts in his seat before continuing. “That man is Spider Nekura, the long-absent leader of the Clan, who made a shocking return one week ago, costing the Magnificent Seven their tag titles against Chris Raynor and Edwin MacPhisto! The tensions are high, and--”

“Don’t do that again!” coughs Riley, jarring the bottle loose.

“Ah, crap. Anyway…”

“Anyway nothing!” snaps Riley. “Tonight—this is when it all goes down, right here, right now! Ever since Thoth came back into the spotlight of the federation less than a month ago, the Clan and the Carnival have been all buddy-buddy…but not anymore! Tonight, Nekura and MacPhisto are going to HAVE to fight each other, and Strangler’s going to reap all the benefits!”

“You do have a point there, Bobby. Spider and Edwin both entered this league at the same time, and have a long and storied history that runs back to the Minor Leagues…but for now, you’ve got to think that all is forgiven while the Clan and Carnival together combat the Magnificent--”

“All is forgiven? Give me a break! What happened the last time Edwin and Spider were in the same ring, Mark? If memory serves me right—and I know it does—it was, what, 3, 4 months ago? A triple threat match with the then world champion, the Hville Thugg! Let’s roll the footage, why don’t we?”

The Smarktron lights up at Bobby’s request…

***

“Edwin and Spider on the outside—Spider’s going for the Stigmata right in front of us, NTD!”

“No—no, reversal, reversal!”

CRASH! The announce table shatters apart as Edwin viciously drives Spider Nekura through the top with all of his strength!

“Encore Cross! Encore Cross through the announce table! Spider is out cold! I can’t believe it, NTD!”

***

As the highlight fades, Riley snickers. “How do you like THEM apples, Stevens? A triple threat, just like this one, and Edwin puts Spider through a table? The Reaper HAS to be looking for vengeance, alliance or not, and this triple threat match tonight is the perrrfect excuse for him to get his black, mystical ya-yas out! No Thoth to hold him back, no Raynor to protect Edwin…this will be delicious.”

“Bobby, that was then,” mutters Stevens, “but this is now.” But there’s a tinge of uncertainty in Mark’s voice as the ring announcer sidles into the ring…

“The following contest is triple threat match, scheduled for one fall,” bellows Funyon, “and it is our main event! Entering first…” The crowd goes wild, and the arena lights fade out…

“Static in sound…uncurable!”

BOOM! A flash of light fills the arena as “Burn to Burn” blares over the speakers, and the crowd response floods with negativity in an instant as the massive shadow of the Boston Strangler fades onto the entrance stage! The monstrous Bostonian pauses at the top of the ramp, flashbulbs and sparkling light glinting off his sunglasses as he grins a sarcastic smirk for all the world to see…

“Making his way to the ring, weighing in at 303 pounds, from Boston, Massachusetts…he represents the Magnificent Seven…the Boston Straaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaangler!” At the call of his name, Strangler begins to stalk down the ramp, trudging along to the heavy rock beat as his tattered trenchcoat flares behind him.

“Look at that man!” shouts Riley. “Look at that monster! Undefeated since his return, able to powerbomb X-Force Nine members through tables in a single bound…some heads are getting broken tonight!” Strangler climbs into the ring and tears off his coat and sunglasses, carelessly tossing them to the ground and snapping at the ring attendant who comes to fetch them with a nasty bark. The monster laughs as the attendant scampers away in fear, and starts to stretch out his arms, keeping his eyes on the entrance ramp…

“Bow down to the Leper Messiah!”

“RAHHH!”

A wall of multicolored lights begin to flash as the heavy guitar intro of Metallica’s “Leper Messiah” decimates the sounds system! Mark Stevens is in shock!

“I…I can’t believe it! Spider Nekura just got an entrance pop!”

“The fans are warming to Spider because they know he’s going to eat Edwin’s brains tonight, and then drink his blood! Duh!”

“His opponent,” booms Funyon, as the leader of the Clan stands tall at the top of the ramp, his black clan robe obscuring his face, “weighing in at 231 pounds, he is the leader of the Supaido-Kuma Clan, the Black Reaper…Spider Nekuraaaaaaaaaa!”

And with the call of his name, Spider suddenly pulls the black robe off and throws it aside! The Englishman breaks into a mad dash down the ramp, a look of absolute rage chiseled across his jawline and burning in his eyes! “Nekura’s not wasting any time!” shouts Stevens. “Months ago, The Boston Strangler betrayed the Clan, and just last week, he was responsible for the Clan’s loss on Storm…”

Nekura dives into the ring and shoots to his feet…

“…and the Black Reaper is ready for some payback!”

CRACK! The lightning-fast boot of the Clansman cracks against the Boston Strangler’s jaw in a fierce superkick! The Boston Beast goes down but is back on his feet in a second—and now Nekura floors him with a smooth jumping calf kick! The crowd pops like mad as Nekura charges to meet the rising Strangler, and as Strangler reaches forward, Nekura drops out of his run into a baseball slide and flows straight into a legsweep! “Baseball slide takedown by Spider Nekura!” shouts Stevens, and Strangler’s massive form hits bottom and shakes the ring! The crowd is going nuts as Spider lays into Strangler with his unorthodox offense, now pulling the bigger man up, throwing into the corner, and peppering away at his massive torso with a series of blazing jabs. The referee desperately tries to pull Spider off of Strangler and maintain some sort of order, but the Black Reaper just tosses him aside.

“The bell hasn’t even rung yet!” whines Riley. “This isn’t fair! The third man’s not even out here!”

“Nekura’s decimating the mighty Boston Strangler, ladies and gentlemen…it’s hard enough to beat the Reaper in the ring, but what’s even harder is staying alive after you’ve done it once! Nekura’s giving no quarter to his old soldier tonight!” Strangler gets a lucky shove to force Spider off of him, but the Black Reaper comes right back with a vicious eye rake, momentarily blinding the big man! Spider continues to wail away, and as he reverts to his sicker, age-old Clan tactics, the crowd response thins…

“Well well well, isn’t this an interesting sight!”

…until the deeply familiar voice of Edwin MacPhisto fills the PA system! The humming beginning of “Battleflag” starts to burn the air as Spider wails away…

“We’ve got Spider Nekura and The Boston Strangler—I tell you, folks, it’s like Halloween in July down there! Keep it up, Spider, because I’ve got some choice fists and palms for Mr. Strangler myself, and I’ve just found the perfect costume! What is it, you ask? Why, it’s none other than one hundred percent, 161-proof, dyed hair, snazzy fashion, Carnival pride, and boots of arse-kicking! Come on down, Strangler, cause the devil’s in town…oh, hell, enough of this bloody talking! I want some too!”

And with that, the vocals of “Battleflag” explode onto the scene, drawing a huge pop from the crowd as Edwin MacPhisto races down to the ring beneath a cavalcade of flashing lights and cheering fans, a sizable bandage across his head, a bit of a limp in his dash, and title belts and sleeveless trenchcoat swinging behind him!

“And their opponent!” bellows Funyon over the nigh-insurmountable crowd noise, “Weighing in at 239 pounds and hailing from Amsterdam, England, he is the leader of the Midnight Carnival, one half of the SWF Tag Team Champions, and YOUR World…Heavyweight…Champion…Edwin MacPhistoooooo!” The Mac Daddy dives into the ring and quickly passes off his pile o’ gold and accessories off to the referee, shakes out his leg a little, and then charges forward as best he can to help Spider tear apart their common enemy!

“The Mac Daddy is in the house, but with a limp and a bandage! He’s looking pretty badly beaten already…” worries Stevens.

“And rightly so!” cackles Riley. “You saw what Strangler and the rest of the Seven did to him tonight: more damage than even the ‘impeccable’ Doctor Z could repair! When Nekura beats him down, Strangler’ll have this sewn up!”

“…Bobby, Spider’s doing a pretty good number on Strangler right now, and doesn’t seem to have much concern for Edwin…”

“Shut up! It’ll happen!”

The referee finally calls for the bell, and the triple-ding sounds out into the arena as Edwin rallies forward. As the Crown Prince of Flash and Panache arrives by his side and begins to join the Strangler-beating party, Nekura turns his head to Edwin, noticing him for the first time, momentarily delaying the assault on Strangler, then turning back…

WHAM! And the cornered animal explodes out of the corner with a stiff double clothesline, toppling both of his adversaries like old, beat-up rag dolls! “See! See!” squeals Riley. “Edwin showed up, and things just turned from bad to worse! Spider’s gonna be pissed now, I’m sure of it!” The crowd’s explosive reaction starts to fade again as all three men pile back to their feet, Strangler leading the way and plowing back towards the corner to level Spider and Edwin with another double clothesline!

“That’s three-hundred pounds of pure athleticism and power right there!” calls Stevens. “Spider and Edwin are going to have to get out of his way if they plan on staying in this!” The two Englishmen clamber to their feet and back out towards the center of the ring, and just as they get their bearings, Strangler comes rocketing forward, both arms extended one more time! A dizzied Edwin can’t turn on his limp leg in time and goes down hard for the third time, but the alert Nekura ducks under his side of the clothesline to a bit of a cheer! Strangler slams on the brakes and spins to face his former leader…and eats a huge rising uppercut! “What a shot from Spider, knocking the big man backwards!”

“Pah! It’s gonna take more than that to take Strangler down!” As Riley speaks, Nekura backs off a step, then bolts forward and spins, leading with his forearm as he slams a brutal rolling elbow right into Strangler’s jaw! The amazing strike blindsides the big man, staggers him for a second…and then, like a building under demolition, the Boston Strangler collapses in a stunned heap!

“The rolling elbow connects—and Nekura’s got the first cover of the night!” shouts Stevens. The ref drops in to count as Edwin stumbles to his feet…

ONE!

TWO—and Strangler gets the shoulder, then shakes his head out and shoves Nekura up and off! The Black Reaper drops into a back roll and fluidly slides out to a grounded position, ready to strike, but before he can attack, Edwin has Strangler up off the mat…and in the deadliest tango of all time! “Standing…uh…armbar, from Edwin MacPhisto! Yeah!”

“…Mark. It’s not an armbar. He’s fricking DANCING with him.” The crowd breaks into an uproar of laughter as Edwin manipulates the still somewhat stunned Strangler, spinning him around in a light pirouette and leading him across the ring, cheek-to-cheek. Rolling his eyes and burying his face in his hands, Nekura gets back up to his feet…and watches as his unlikely ally gets brutally floored by a savage Strangler right hand! Nekura shakes his head as Edwin’s Fred Astaire impression crumbles before him, and then sprints forward with a clothesline from behind! The Clansman leaps into the air as he approaches Strangler to account for the height difference, and Nekura’s potent lariat takes the Boston native in the back of the neck and down to the mat!

“Well, Edwin’s little dance-hall days didn’t pan out too well, but at least they gave Spider the opening to get back on top here tonight,” says Stevens. Nekura pulls Strangler up, gives him a sharp knee to the gut, then steps forward to whip him across the ring. Behind Spider, Edwin pulls himself back up and shakes off Strangler’s dizzying blow. He watches as Strangler bounces off the ropes, barrels towards Nekura…and is met with a tremendous jumping spinning heel kick! Strangler goes down hard again, and Nekura covers again!

ONE!

TWO!—again, Strangler powers out, this time throwing Nekura up and away five feet…but the Clansmen again lands in a poised pounce and charges forward…straight into a Strangler big boot! The big man gets his leg up in time and stops Nekura’s momentum dead in his tracks, then falls to his knees for the lateral press cover! “Now Strangler’s got the cover!” shouts Stevens, but before the ref can even hit the mat for one, world champion Edwin MacPhisto dashes in from the side and sits out into a basement dropkick, taking Strangler right in the head and breaking up the pinfall!

“Cheap! Cheap!”

“What are you, a cockatoo? It looks like Edwin doesn’t have a problem with Spider getting a cover…but he’s got a real issue with anyone from the Magnificent Seven pulling out a pinfall anytime soon!” Strangler rears up to his full height and lunges for Edwin, catching him in a two-handed choke, but before Strangler can get his strangle on, Edwin shoots a boot forward and clips out his knee. Strangler buckles, and the Mac Daddy fires another shot into the big Bostonian’s other leg, bringing him to his knees…

CRAAACK!

“WOW!” The crowd roars wildly as a risen Spider Nekura connects with a buzzsaw kick out of nowhere, straight to the skull of the lowered Boston Strangler! “Was that a planned double-team,” wonders Stevens, “or was that just a lucky break for Spider’s opponents?”

Edwin and Spider share a hesitant glance before both stepping forward and seizing the Boston Strangler. Together they pull him up off the mat, and conference quickly…

“Carnival and Clan on the double-team now,” murmurs Stevens, and in the ring, the Mac Daddy and the Black Reaper each take a Strangler-arm, step forward…and get jerked back violently as the Boston Strangler plants his feet, roars, and reverses the whip! “Amazing power from Strangler, and now both Edwin and Spider are on the rebound!” The two men rocket towards the ropes, but suddenly Spider starts to flip forward, and picking up on the tactic, Edwin follows suit! The crowd gasps in awe as Strangler barrels up to meet his opponents, but before he can stop himself, he’s barreling straight towards a pair of amazing handspring back elbows! With a loud POP-POP, Edwin and Spider connect, and Strangler is back down again! “Good lord! I’ve never seen Edwin flip like that!”

“I said it once and I’ll say it again,” chirps Riley. “It’s clobberin’ time!”

“…you’ve never said that before.”

“Have to!”

“Have not—wait, this is the stupidest thing in the world! Why am I arguing this? Watch the match, Bobby!”

With Strangler on the ground, both Spider and Edwin go for the cover…and both stop half-way, meeting each other’s eyes with uncertain stares! “Oh ho ho, here it is!” squeals Riley. “This is where it all falls apart!” Spider mumbles something to Edwin, and the Mac Daddy snaps back with a comment of his own…and then suddenly Spider topples out of the conversation as Strangler catches him with a roll-up pin from behind!

“Roll-up! Roll-up! Strangler’s got all his weight on Spider!” The ref drops down!

ONE!

TWO!

THR—and Spider explodes out at the last second! Strangler goes to pursue, but Edwin drops him with a stomp to the back of the head, then pulls him up and snags a headlock! The Mac Daddy takes two running steps forward, leaps, but before he can bring Strangler down with the Midnight Special, the Bostonian gets his arms up and shoves Edwin away with tremendous force, breaking him loose and rocketing him into the ringpost with a sickening clang! “What a reversal!” cackles Riley. “Edwin eats post—I should get that on a t-shirt!” As Edwin collapses in the corner, Strangler turns to face Spider again, and the Clansman fires off a jab—blocked by Strangler! Another jab—blocked again! Spider changes pace and goes for a high Kawada kick, but Strangler claps both hands around the incoming leg and shoves outward, throwing Spider to the mat! He takes a stomping step forward, but Spider back-rolls and springs to his feet right against the ropes, evading the blow. Nekura catches sight of Edwin just starting to come to in the corner, and realizes that for now, he’s on his own. For an instant, Strangler locks one thick palm around Spider’s throat, but the Black Reaper throws his own hand forward in a claw to rake Strangler’s eyes and break away. As Strangler stumbles blinded for the briefest of moments, Nekura scrambles for the corner, hops to the second rope, and springs back out towards Strangler, catching him with a twisting crossbody splash! As the two men fall, Spider lands on top of Strangler, and he quickly hooks the leg and snaps at the referee to count!

“Quick cover from Spider, this could be it!”

ONE!

TWO—no, Strangler kicks out! “Spider’s managing to hold his own against the much-larger Strangler right now, with surprisingly little help from our deadbeat world champ,” mutters Riley as Spider pulls Strangler to his feet.

“Deadbeat? Come off it, Riley. You know full-well that Edwin’s already injured thanks to that big Bostonian galoot and his boys. But if there’s anyone who can hold his own against the monster, it’s Nekura…Spider can fly, grapple, and brawl sick with the best of them. His speed’s keeping Strangler off-base for now…”

As Spider rises with Strangler in toe, the big men offers up a fierce elbow smash to Nekura’s gut! The Reaper shudders, and Strangler fires another, freeing himself enough to rise up fully and whip him to the ropes! Spider bounces back, and Strangler fakes right to dodge a spinning elbow smash…but he’s not so lucky with the dodge when Edwin MacPhisto comes blazing out of the corner with a springing sidekick just a moment later! Edwin’s leg broadsides the big man, and the crowd cheers as Strangler starts to tumble. “Edwin’s back in this,” comments Stevens, and as Edwin connects with his kick, Spider rebounds off the opposite ropes, leaps, and mimics Edwin with a springing sidekick of his own! The crowd pops again, and Strangler falters between the two men, bouncing back and forth like a pinball amidst a fury of chops, rakes, snap kicks, and jabs. The big man begins to wobble not unlike a rather pummeled Mortal Kombat character, and Edwin and Spider take the initiative! Each man throws an arm across Strangler’s lower back, cinches one at his waist, and lifts him up to the awe of the crowd! “Double-team suplex! The two relative lightweights have got this beast airborne!” Edwin and Spider together can only hold Strangler up for a few moments, but it’s enough to get him high and drop him hard with a shattering back suplex! The ring shakes under the impact, and the crowd roars with approval! As Strangler hits, Edwin grins towards Spider, who nods back to him and extends his hand for…a shake!

“Handshake? Aww, Spider, come on!”

Delighted at how well things have been working between them thus far, Edwin meets Spider’s handshake…and Spider reels him in for a short-arm kneelift! A fair amount of boos scatter through the crowd as Edwin doubles over, and the ring mics pick up Spider shouting:

“It’s only fair play, mate.”

The Reaper, much more comfortable fighting a man closer to his size, immediately hooks a front facelock, grabs a waistlock, and powers back with a sharp snap suplex! “That’s the Spider we all used to know!” cackles Riley. “Woo! It IS clobberin’ time!” Stevens has no comment on the situation as Spider holds on for a second snap suplex…and delivers! “Arachnophobia on the way!” Nekura plants his feet and steadies himself as he lifts Edwin for the brainbuster…and eats a savage sidekick from the Boston Strangler! The immense force of the risen Bostonian’s boot blows Spider backwards and forces him to release Edwin, who falls relatively undamaged to the side. Spider uses the ropes to pull himself up, and in turn, Strangler steamrolls forward with a clothesline! The bitter hand of irony grabs Spider and pulls him over the very ropes that brought him to his feet! Nekura lands with a meaty thud on the thin mats before the announce table, and Strangler turns back to deal with Edwin…and eats a shotei to the upper chest for his troubles!

“Strangler can take Edwin and Spider out one at a time, but he’s yet to show that he can deal with both men! Edwin’s taking the advantage now!” As Stevens rallies behind his former colleague, Edwin rears back and fires another palm blow into Strangler’s sternum, then another, and another! Going for a fifth, Edwin poses perhaps a bit too much, and Strangler catches the incoming arm—no, agile Edwin rolls and drops to his knees, arm-dragging Strangler down to the mat! “Great reversal from the Mac Daddy!” Strangler lands in a seated position, and Edwin quickly back into the ropes, rebounds, and leaps to land the second basement dropkick of the night, this one into the back of Strangler’s head! The big man slumps forward, and Edwin goes for the cover!

ONE!

TWO—Strangler kicks out! The Mac Daddy, realizing that he may have the big man on the run, wastes no time and whips him towards the announce-side ropes. Strangler bounces back, slowly but surely, and the crowd roars as Edwin signals for the spinebuster! He catches Strangler and pulls his legs—no, Strangler reaches forward and catches Edwin reversing the spinebuster into a back-splitting ‘buster of his own! “Boston Massacre!” shouts Stevens. “Edwin was going for the Love Rollercoaster, but he telegraphed it!” Edwin writhes on the mat, but not for too long, as Strangler quickly pulls him up. The ref wavers back and forth between checking out Spider, who crawls back towards the apron on the outside, and Strangler, who he expects to get a pinfall any second now. Edwin tries to rush forward with another palm strike, but Strangler gets his meaty forearm up and drives it hard into the Mac Daddy’s face, stunning him and leaving him wide-open for a single-hand choke!

“He’s got him! He’s got him!” cackles Riley! “It’s time to take the Plunge!” Strangler puts his loose hand on Edwin’s back to lift for the chokeslam, but suddenly his legs are pulled out from behind by an unseen force, and as Spider Nekura reaches in from the apron and yanks the ankles, Strangler tumbles forward and loses his grip on Edwin! The M7 member face-plants hard, and with an aggressive tug Spider manages to pull him all the way to the outside! “God-damn lucky Edwin!” snaps Riley. “First, Strangler boots Spider in the face and blocks the brainbuster. Now, Spider prevents the Plunge…in their quest to one-up and decimate each other, Strangler and Spider are continually helping out their mutual opponent!”

“It’s the luck of the draw, Riley!” laughs Stevens. “Now we’ve got two of our most ruthless competitors on the outside—and Spider’s got the inverted facelock!” The crowd roars with a decidedly mixed reaction as Spider kicks his feet off the mat and spins, bringing Strangler down with a reverse spinning neckbreaker! Spider stomps down on the fallen Strangler’s neck thrice, then rolls him a little further away from the apron and climbs back into the ring! Edwin stands in the ring and makes a move for Spider, but Nekura motions him off, as if to say “gimme a minute,” and with that the Black Reaper bolts for the ropes, leaps, and flips into a breathtaking senton plancha to plow into the just-standing Strangler on the outside! “Whoa! Amazing maneuver from Nekura, a master of the air—but the showman’s not to be outdone! Here he comes!”

With a wild grin on his face and an “everything you can do, I can do better!” glint in his eyes, Edwin MacPhisto bolts towards the ropes, and as Spider Nekura pulls the Boston Strangler to his feet, the Black Reaper catches sight of the incoming missile! He dives out of the way as Edwin MacPhisto flies between the second and third ropes, slamming into Strangler from behind with a blazing tope suicida! “And Strangler gets hit with two heavy impact high-flying moves!” shouts Stevens. “The crowd is loving it!”

“And I’m hating it,” mutters Riley. All three men lay on the outside in a heap, and Spider is the first up. Strangler soon follows and tries to grab Edwin, but the Mac Daddy, having taken less of the brunt of the tope’s impact, is quick enough to dodge and leap, catching Strangler in the jaw with a gamengiri and knocking him backwards! The big man backs into the announce table, and without hesitation, Edwin runs, hops onto the announce table, grabs a front facelock, and leaps backwards, bringing the Strangler with him!

CRUNCH!

“Jumping DDT onto the concrete! Strangler could be out cold! Way to go Edwin!” Stevens leads the cheers, and in the background, Spider climbs up onto the apron, points, and shouts down at Edwin! With a satisfied nod, the Mac Daddy pulls the dazed Strangler up…and lays him out over the announce table!

“Sorry Mark—duty calls!” With that, Edwin backs off, keeping his hands on Strangler’s chest to hold him in place as he signals to Nekura! The Black Reaper slides into the ring, grabs the ropes, and pulls himself to springboard off the top!

“Shooting star plancha! Black Widow Bomb to the outside!” Spider rotates, a vision of contradictory motion sailing 15 feet in the air, and flashbulbs around the arena erupt in a blaze. He falls down…down…down…Edwin darts away to safety…

…AND STRANGLER SITS UP AND ROLLS OFF THE TABLE!

“NO! NO!”

CRAAAAAAAAAASH! NEKURA GOES THROUGH THE ANNOUNCE TABLE, SHATTERING IT INTO SPLINTERS WITH HIS UNPROTECTED FRAME! “Spider blew the press! Strangler got up! I can’t believe it! Nekura’s out cold!”

“And it’s all Edwin’s fault!”

“It’s not, Riley, and--”

“Twice! That’s twice Edwin’s been responsible for Spider going through a table! You know, I know it, but most importantly, Spider knows it! When he wakes up…there’ll be hell to pay! But for now, Strangler’s about to make a withdrawal from Hell Bank himself, and our fruity little world champ is his teller!” Edwin tries to make a break into the crowd as Strangler pursues, but the big Magnificent Strangler pulls him off the guardrail and clubs him with a double axehandle. Pulling Edwin back down to the concrete, Strangler sets Edwin up for a whip into the ring apron—no, Edwin plants his feet and reverses the whip, to the crowd’s delight! Strangler hits the apron chest first and stumbles backward, and Edwin seizes the opportunity immediately! He charges forward and grabs Strangler from behind, pulling his head and neck down and snaking his left arm around Strangler’s throat, locking in a tight dragon sleeper!

“Dragon sleeper! Edwin usually pulls something big out of here,” notes Stevens, and as Edwin wraps his left leg around Strangler’s right and checks his six, the crowd cheers again! With all his power, Edwin pulls Strangler and himself backwards…and successfully drives the big man into the guardrail with a brutal dragon sleeper Russian legsweep! “And there it is! The dragon-sweeper, if you will!”

“I won’t!”

“Shut up, Bobby!” With Strangler shaking out the cobwebs from the big shot, Edwin tries to keep the pressure on. He pulls Strangler up and drags him towards the ring, expending nearly all his effort to roll the mammoth man inside. “Folks, Edwin MacPhisto, our world champion, is looking to finish this, but Spider Nekura is still down and out in front of me! It’s become a two-man match!” Breathing heavily, Edwin stumbles into the ring and pulls Strangler up to his feet again, hastily spinning him around and sloppily hooking his arms in a back-to-back lock! The crowd goes wild as it looks like Edwin’s about to hit the Encore Cross, but Strangler simply steps forward and pulls his arm free from Edwin, spinning to level the shocked Crown Prince with a huge haymaker! Edwin drops like a sack of dead wombats, the crowd jeers, and Strangler takes over once again!

“And just like that, we prove the old adage that evil will always triumph, because good is dumb! Edwin couldn’t have lifted Strangler even if he had the time!” Riley seems to have a point, but no one really cares, as they’re too busy watching Strangler mercilessly pummel the world champion. First he whips Edwin towards the ropes, then easily catches his staggering form on the rebound, floating him into a ring-rocking powerslam. He contemplates a cover, but instead, pulls Edwin up, whips him again…this time, Edwin tries to come back with a weak flying forearm, but Strangler catches him, flips him, and in three seconds has flipped backwards to drop Edwin with a fallaway slam!

“Strangler’s throwing the champ around like a rag doll! With dominance like this, there’s not much in the way of Strangler one day holding that world title, maybe even being the man to pull it off of Edwin!” suggests Stevens. Keeping the brutality at maximum, Strangler pulls Edwin up once more, as shouts of “Just end it!” rattle through the disaffected crowd. Instead, Strangler gets a belly-to-belly waistlock on the ailing MacPhisto and lifts up and back, sending Edwin over his head with a stiff overhead suplex! As Edwin lands in a crumpled heap, Strangler stands, smirks, and draws his thumb across his throat in the universal symbol for “It’s over!”

“Here it comes! Hope you liked your tenure here in the land of Alive, Mr. MacPhisto!” chimes Riley. Strangler walks to Edwin and pulls him up, walking through some weak jabs to lock an inverted headlock! “It’s the Last Breath!” The crowd is throwing trash already as Strangler moves to grab Edwin’s waist…when suddenly Edwin shoots his boot to the side, clipping Strangler’s knee! The big man buckles, and Edwin scoots out of the headlock to a big cheer! He dashes forward and dives for a roll-up!

…and ends up looking pretty damn stupid, as Strangler refuses to budge. Heard on the ring mics:

“Aw, bugger.”

Without a care in the world, the Boston Strangler scoops Edwin MacPhisto up in a fast gutwrench, then flips him over and falls to his knees, breaking him in half with a stiff powerbomb! Now Strangler rises again, and this time the cutthroat gesture is even more enthusiastic! “And now,” says Riley, “it’s REALLY over!”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that, Bobby! Someone just woke up, and he looks pissed!”

“No! No! Dammit!”

Strangler sets Edwin up for the Last Breath and pumps his fist high one time, when suddenly he’s greeted with a sharp kidney punch from behind! A staggering Spider Nekura pulls Strangler off of Edwin and drops his shoulder, shoving it under the big man…and pulling him up into a fireman’s carry! “No way!” shouts Stevens! “Stigmata on Strangler! How can Nekura hold him? He weighs over 300 hundred pounds, but that’s not gonna stop Spider from getting revenge for the table!”

“Revenge? EDWIN’S FAULT, DAMMIT!”

Spider winces under the weight, but holds on! He licks his lips and starts to flip Strangler into the square driver, but the massive weight of the man proves too much, and Spider’s lead shoulder dips too early! Strangler floats out of the slam and lands on his feet, and fiercely grabs Nekura from behind with a rear choke! He slowly and painfully pulls Nekura back into position for the Last Breath, but Spider keeps fighting! He launches a kick into Strangler’s side! He gnashes his teeth!

But, in the end, brute strength wins out over snapping rage.

WHAAAAM.

“Last Breath! Last Breath on Nekura—AND HERE COMES EDWIN!” The Mac Daddy weakly surges off the mat as a crushed Nekura rolls to the side, and Edwin fires a shotei into Strangler’s back! The big man turns, and Edwin fires another shotei up and into the underside of Strangler’s chin! The crowd roars, but Strangler bears forward! Edwin throws another shotei, this time very wide right, and Strangler lunges forward…

…but Edwin jukes left! He throws his leg out and trips the big man, and as Strangler stumbles off-balance, the Crown Prince scores a facelock! “Edwin baited him! Edwin baited the Boston Strangler—and now he’s headed for the corner!” With Strangler in tow, Edwin takes two running stops towards the nearest turnbuckle, leaps…and lands, then kicks up to the top turnbuckle! The crowd explodes as Edwin kicks off and sails towards the center of the ring! “He’s got him! He’s got Strangler! Spinal Tap!”

CR-CRACK! Edwin lands seated and Strangler follows, but Strangler lands in a considerably more uncomfortable fashion: with his jaw cracking hard over Edwin’s shoulder in a savage tornado stunner! The Boston Strangler’s head snaps back violently, and he sits up wobbling for a second…and then falls, limp as a floppy cod! “It’s over! It’s over! Edwin MacPhisto hits a fluke Spinal Tap and Strangler is out! Now just cover, dammit! Come on, Edwin!”

Broken and beaten, the world champion rolls over and grabs Strangler’s leg, fighting through a bruised body to hook it tightly…the referee drops down…

ONE!

TWOOOO!

…

THREEEEEEEEEEEE!

“He did it! He did it! Edwin MacPhisto pulls out the win with a pin on the Boston Strangler!” The ref calls for the bell and pulls Edwin to his feet! The crowd is nuts!

“Your winner by pinfall: Edwin MacPhistOOOOOOOO!”

“God dammit! How does he do that?” screams Riley, as “Battleflag” begins to bump in triumph! “He always manages to lure him in! Stupid damn underdog luck!”

“The Mac Daddy has done it, defeated the Boston Strangler and Spider Nek--” Suddenly, a wave of jeers washes over Stevens’s speech, and a tumult at the entrance ramp makes clear the reason! The entire Magnificent Seven comes barreling down the ramp, making a beeline for the ring and Edwin MacPhisto! “Its the Magnificent Seven! Dammit! Can’t they just be good sports?”

Stryke dives into the ring—now Deathwish, Outcast, TNT, Frost, and finally, Chris Wilson! They charge for Edwin, and the Mac Daddy shoves the referee out of the way—arm drag for Stryke! Shotei for Danny Williams! But the numbers game starts to catch up! Deathwish fights through and lands an elbow smash to the face! Stryke and TNT surround Edwin and rear back—

--and Stryke goes flying out of the way as a black boot crashes into his jaw! “It’s Nekura! Spider Nekura’s up—and he’s cleaning house!” Deathwish charges for Nekura—roundhouse kick! Edwin gets a palm strike to Outcast and knocks him back to the ropes as Frost and TNT charge Spider, only to get thrown back a jumping dropkick…and out of nowhere Chris Wilson hooks a full-nelson on Edwin MacPhisto!

“Platinum Nightmare! It’s all over for Edwin!” squeals Riley! But Nekura turns, lines Wilson up in his sights, and leaps forward with a blazing superkick…

…AND WILSON PULLS EDWIN IN FRONT OF HIM! Spider’s shot hits Edwin in the jaw, and the champion collapses as Wilson loosens his grip and lets out a laugh! Spider’s face is shocked and emotionless all at the same time…and suddenly two hands lock around his waist—no, Spider mule kicks backwards and knocks the Boston Strangler off, and like the smart sadist he is, bails out of the ring! “Nekura just accidentally hit Edwin with the superkick, and now he’s left him to the wolves! This alliance between the Clan and the Carnival has got a helluva lot of bumps along the way for an alliance!”

“Get over it, Mark!” shouts Riley over the furious crowd. “It’s simple logic: he who runs, lives. He who stays…get picked up by TNT and Frost, the men who’ll be challenging for Edwin and Raynor’s tag belts on Storm!” Defenseless and abandoned, Edwin is easy prey for TNT and Frost, who pull him up…and both sit out, nailing a two-man Early Winter and breaking Edwin in two!

“This is an outrage!” “Toxicity” begins to blare over the speakers as the Magnificent Seven stand high, arms raised! Strangler gives the limp Edwin a kick for good measure as the seven men stand triumphant! “Folks, we are out of time tonight, but come back on Friday for Storm! MacPhisto and Raynor against Frost and TNT! What’s the story with Spider Nekura? When will someone finally put the Magnificent Seven in their place? For Bobby Riley, Ben Hardy, and all the crew, this is Mark Stevens, signing off…ugh.”

Garbage pelts the ring once more, and we fade to black on Spider Nekura backing up the ramp, an indecipherable look on his stolid, blank face…

July 16, 2002

Summary

- The top of the show reveals the opponents for Storm’s huge tag title match. However, the segment ends with the Carnies in a situation they have found themselves in very often recently………with their asses handed to them.

Frost vs. Mercury

- Mercury should think about hibernating because it’s definitely and early winter for him. Frost wins!

- The Carnies are all busted up and licking their wounds, when suddenly, Edwin decides to be the leader he should have been all month, declaring that the Carnival will take no more beatings and that it all ends on Snake Eyes…but what exactly do they have in store for the upcoming PPV?!?

- Tod’s not happy about his loss to LDP last Friday, but they’ll do it again this coming Friday. This time, a shot at an X Force 9 membership is at stake.

Xero vs. Lerrin Breggan

- Break his vertebrae Lerrin…BREAK IT! The new (old) guy wins!

- Note to the world, don’t fuck with the Boston Strangler. He makes it known that he hates Spider Nekura and that in the main event, he’s gonna rip him a new A.

Carnival vs. Clan

- Well, if you get some Acid Rayn on your clothes, just put it in the Spin Cycle, and that stain will be down for 1, 2, 3! The dirty ass Clan wins (by default due to some mix ups with who was posting the show. Sorry Raynor and ELM!)

- When will these bitches learn? If you’re fucking pregnant, you ain’t got no business near the ring, especially when Jay Dawg’s around. Dumb sluts…

Jay Dawg vs. Ash Ketchum

- Dammit…don’t they have any Ludacris in this thing? I’ll tip it over and see…hey, here’s a hardcore belt! JD wins, despite not going back to the ring with the belt…this is one bad ass match! It’s a must read!!

Thoth vs. Stryke

- Hmmm…Thoth gets his ass whooped, but gets “saved” by the rest of the Clan and Carnies. I do believe this one was a no contest.

- Hmmmm…TNT and Strangler manage somehow to be in 2 places at once. Damn…now that’s skill. TNT and Frost tune up for their match by beating down Erek Taylor. Silly Erek…he should know better than to walk to the halls after dark.

Edwin MacPhisto vs. The Boston Strangler vs. Spider Nekura

- TBS gets to score the Last Breath on his former leader, but Edwin scores the win after hitting the Spinal Tap on Strangler. In the aftermath, Edwin and Spider work together to fight off the sheer numbers of M7………………that is, until Spider accidently kicks Edwin in the face, leaving him prone for a 2-person Early Winter. For sham!

SWF Smarkdown- Monday, July 15th

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