SJL Crimson, July 21st

[Guest crusen86]

SJL Crimson

Venue: The Lawn, Woodbridge Virginia

 

PROMO

Renegade!!

- We’ll hear from our new World Champion, Renegade!

 

Singles Match - #1 Contendership to the SJL Television Title

“Hollywood” Spike Jenkins vs. Kamikaze

- On Wrathapalooza, Kamikaze made his impressive debut, picking up the win over the always formidable (*snicker*) Cutthroat. For actually showing up for this show, he has been a awarded a #1 contenders match for the coveted TV title. In order to get his shot though, he must first go through Hollywood, in the form of Spike Jenkins.

 

No-DQ Singles Match

T-Bone vs. Mike Van Siclen

- MVS made his return on Wrath, where he joined the reformed sWo! In the process, he threw T-Bone in the empty pool, obviously upsetting the steak sauce covered bastard. He wants MVS, and he’ll get him with no disqualifications. What will happen when T-Bone gets his hands on MVS? And how will the rest of the sWo effect this match with no DQs? Should be an awesome bout!

- Match Description: DQs and count-outs are not in effect. Pinfalls, submissions, and KOs must take place in the ring.

 

Singles Match

Silent vs. Sydney Sky

- Sydney Sky returns to the SJL this Saturday, but what she returns to is not pretty. Silent’s an evil, dark SOB who’s got some serious issues. Will he take them out on Sky, or will the SJL Diva make the silent one scream out in pain? (yeah…ok…can you say random match?)

 

Singles Match - #1 Contendership to the SJL European Title

Fugue vs. Thor

- Both Fugue and current TV champion, Thor, have been impressing as of late…so they will duke it out with a shot at T-Bone’s European title on the line. Will the Norse god show that he is indeed from the heavens? Well, he’ll need all his godly powers to get past the awesome Fugue!

 

MAIN EVENT

Steel Cage Match

“The Franchise” Mak Francis vs. C.I.A.

- Tons of history in this match, as these two had all kinds of matches during the early stages of their careers. CIA is coming off a tough loss to Renegade on Wrath for the world title, but he hopes to bounce back against a familiar foe. Francis has made it his mission to rebuild the sWo and take the SJL by storm. Taking out CIA would be a huge step in the right direction for “The Franchise”. Which one of these familiar enemies will escape the cage??

- Match Description: DQ’s, countouts, pinfalls, submissions, and KOs are not in effect. Once both men are inside the cage, the door will be closed, with the only way to open it being with a key held by the ringside referee. The only way to win the match is to escape over the top of the cage, with BOTH feet hitting the floor.

 

-------------------------

 

DARK MATCH!

 

The sound uttered by all marks is “m00t”, as some random waste of time and money (def : commercial) ends. Thus, we come to the horrible orgy of pain and violence that is the Smarks Junior League.

 

Happy Happy……… Joy Joy.

 

(Axis) – “Welcome to SJL Crimson, folks! Tonight, we’re starting off our hellacious crusade on… uh… ‘the lawn’, with a word from our current world champion, Renegade!”

 

(King) – “And the word from Renegade will be : fecavore!”

 

(Edwin) – “Uh…”

 

(King) – “For you numbskulls who don’t know latin, dissolve the word and you get SHITEATER! Ha, Renegade is only the worthy champion of shiteating. I kill me.”

 

(Edwin) – “You slumber me. Renegade is a 2-time world champ, whore.”

 

(King) – “And Carrottop’s opinion is SO relevant. YAAAWWWN… so, where is Renee anyway?”

 

(Axis) – “Um, mistake on my part. This edition of Crimson will be launced by an exciting Dark Match, between our favorite happy-go-lucky JTTS Matthew Kivell, and, uh… some new guy from SWF Tough Enough.”

 

DUN DUN DUN!!! Since I lack so much creativity, that I cannot think of any good theme music for this hoss of a manbeast, I have decided that Mr. Kivell will enter the arena in grand fashion. With more of that lovely orchestrated sound…

 

DUN DUN DUN!!!

 

DUUUUDUUUN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

BIG THUNDER COLLASHA~!

 

Matthew Kivell steps out onto the rampway and raises his arms up into the air. Because nobody aside from wrestling geeks have seen this man job and job dark matches until he had erectile dysfunction, Kivell receives an absurd amount of heat.

 

BOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

“Hailing from the JL’s boiler room, at a sickening 270 pounds and 6’ 0”……… MATT! KIVELLLLLL!”

 

With that being said, Kivell steps into the ring and picks up the ol’ microphone. Testing 1…2…53.

 

(Kivell) – “OK, OK. I am getting sick and tired of having to come out here and kick non-talent losers out of this federation! I deserve just a little more respect than just being that guy who filters the good newbies from the bad! So I want to say that I—“

 

Immediately, the backstage crew bleeps out Kivell’s soundline and switches over to the entrance curtain, where the lights turn off to ready for the newcomer.

 

…A dark-red strobelight correlates with the primitive drumbeat of Nine Inch Nails' "Head Like a Hole". When the song finally starts, Johnny Cougar makes his entrance by raising his arms up in the air and posing towards the crowd, showing off his monstrously muscular physique! As the women in the audience fall over with goo-goo eyes, and the men root on the rookie’s arrogance, Kivell just looks the other way and sighs.

 

Cougar doesn’t like this… at all. After hearing backstage that he was another “non-talent”, he sprints to the ring with… um… a SOUR ANGRY FACE~!

 

“Making his way to the ring, at 237 pounds and 6’ 1”, from Vancouver, British Columbia…… JOHN… COUGAAAAAAHHH—“

 

 

 

Mr. Wildman knocks Funyon out of his pathway with a weak clothesline, only to hammer Kivell right in the back of his neck with a Double Axe Handle! From the shot to the spinal cord, Kivell unexpectedly collapses knee-first on the ground. John Cougar is obviously angry right now, so he continues the back-end assault with a kick to the spine! OOMPH! And then another kick to the spine… OOMPH x2! With Matt Kivell now holding his largely-pained backside, John Cougar steps down and increases the pressure with a kneeling Crossface submission!

 

(Axis) – “Cougar is steaming out the ears with enragement!”

 

As Kivell’s words are drowned out by a muffled “AAAAARRRH!”, Cougar speaks :

 

“You called a talentless hack, you piece of funky-smelling jobber trash!? Let’s see you get out of this fight intact!”

 

John Cougar keeps the Crossface submission held on tight, and Kivell tries and tries persistantly to fight it off. The referee, almost forgetting that the match never started, finally rings the bell :

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

Again, Matthew Kivell is struggling with desperation to escape the ruthless rookie’s enstranglement. As John pries Kivell’s skull to the point where his neck is almost going to snap in half, Kivell angrily gets a foot onto the mat and pushes up… making John lose his strength. When the bruteful Kivell makes a full stand on both legs, Cougar powers out and his arms and Kivell pries Cougar’s hands off his face… and into a very painful twist!

 

(Axis) – “Oh no! The rookie has lost his short-lived advantage! Kivell escaped the hold and is back up!”

 

…now holding the n00b by his two arms, Kivell pulls on the limbs to squash Cougar’s face into his smelly, sweaty backskin. But Kivell wastes no time on yet more suffocation, as he pulls Cougar’s body over his head, and holds him upside down by his arms. With a deliberate downward thrust…

 

*CRUSH!!!* JOHN’S HEAD IS SPIKED INTO THE CANVAS!

 

(King) – “Holy shit! That was fucking awesome!”

 

(Axis) – “Underhook Piledriver on rookie John Cougar! He’s layed out like a corpse, and Kivell’s going for the pinfall…”

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

THR-no! Kickout!

 

(Axis) – “What the… but it wasn’t enough to dispose of Cougar, this early on in the match!”

 

(Edwin) – “I don’t think that Mathias Kivella intended on pinning him, Axis! Look…”

 

Kivell doesn’t even break a sweat, as he sighs and mounts his fat ass onto poor Cougar’s chest. Matt Kivell raises his right arm up and puts the Wild One in his place with a barrage of thunderous right kunckles! Punch after punch after punch leaves Cougar at the mercy of the JL’s jobberific brute, until Kivell finally decides to lift John up by his greasy hair. With Cougar now standing, Kivell gives the rookie a hard whip to the turnbuckle… bam! And then he gives yet another… clash! Taking advantage of Johnnyboy’s stumbling around like a fool, left and right, Kivell grabs the rookie by the head and waist, lifts him up, and suspends him hiiiiiiiiiiigh in the air until his strength craps out and BOOM!

 

(Axis) – “What a stalling vertical suplex! Now Kivell goes for the pinfall and… and… uh, he doesn’t!?”

 

Yattana! Matt Kivell stands back up and drags John off of his ass, holding him upwards like a scarecrow without a groundstake. With his right arm, Kivell slams his large palm into Cougar’s chest!

 

OOOOHHH!!!

 

Then again…

 

OOOOHHH!!!

 

Cougar holds his ribs and cringes his closed eyes shut, still at Kivell’s mercy. Kivell holds his sweaty palm up once more and thrusts it into Cougar once more… before the wild rookie blocks the punch with his left elbow and combats Kivell with two right punches to knock the foe backwards! Cougar whips Kivell into the ropes… while in turn, Kivell reverses and sends Cougar into the ropes! But the rookie has feet with an IQ of 300, so they jump up to spring off of the turnbuckle posts. And Kivell blindly runs into the steel post!

 

(Edwin) – “Oooh… Kivell feels the burn!”

 

As Kivell stumbles backwards and covers his head, the ambtious Johnny Cougar runs straight towards Kivell and plants a rather painful boot directly into his behind! As the brute heel squeals like a pig, Cougar crouches down for a Drop Toe Hold, thus forcing Kivell’s face down on the steel post! Kivell slowly moves his face off of the turnbuckle and wipes his face… and sees a trail of blood on his palm.

 

(Axis) – “Hm, Kivell looks pissed. But Cougar’s going for the top rope…”

 

The Wildman steps onto the turnbuckle and faces Matt Kivell to leap off and nail a nicely targeted Missile Dropkick… but Kivell grabs his legs and grunts before collapsing the rookie with a spinebuster.

 

(Axis) – “…but Kivell counters with a SPINEBUSTAH, BY GAWD~!”

 

Ah, poor Johnny… one minute he’s running around like Sonic on ecstasty, one other minute he’s a crumpled sack of bones. That hoss, Matt Kivell, climbs up on top of the turnbuckle for himself and looks down on the rookie Wildman… just for “kicks and giggles”, yo. Soon thereafter, he takes his ass of solid muscle and jumps down to thrust it right into the Cougar’s upper torso. THUD!

 

(Axis) – “…followed by a Guillotine Legdrop! Damn, our talent-filter Kivell is proving to be as tough as Baldcore Halley on his stiffer days!”

 

Kivell doesn’t even bugde an inch off of Johnny, and the t00lish referee recognizes the squatting as a pin! So he slides over and raises his arm for the three-count!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO-kickout!

 

(Edwin) – “But it’s going to take a lot more than fucking KIVELL to pin Cougar!”

 

As Johnny raises his right arm in the air, Matt Kivell sighs with much irritation and positions his left leg underneath the back of Cougar’s cranium, and his landed leg on Cougar’s trachea. The pain-inducing Kivell then takes advantage of his landed Guillotine Legdrop position to apply a ridiculous amount of pressure onto Cougar’s throat, cutting off nearly all of his incoming oxygen. The referee watches Cougar intently for any sign of a submission to come, but the Wild rookie keeps his palm on the ground and refuses to tap out.

 

(King) – “Oh come on you bitch… there’s no way you can get out of that kind of submission! He WILL choke you to death!”

 

(Axis) – “Well actually, King-“

 

(King) – “TAP! TAP! TAP! TAAAAAP!!!”

 

(Axis) – “…*sigh*…”

 

Despite John’s resolve not to tap out on his very first matchup, Kivell continues his ruthless campaign to make the Wildman tap out, and thus the rookie drowns in a deep, deeeeep swimming pool of anguish. John tries exceedinly hard not to tap out, as he can feel himself fainting… but his palm strikes against the mat once…

 

 

ONE!

 

 

And he does it again…

 

 

TWO!

 

 

While John Cougar just near-reaches his ultimate threshold of pain, and his headache from under Kivell’s tightly-locked legs is becoming completely unbearable, Johnny continues trying to hold his arm out… and when he groans in pain, his hand uncontrollably thrusts down from pain, to finalize the three-count!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

…

 

 

 

 

Over the bottom rope!

 

(Axis) – “Cougar’s hand just BARELY hits the bottom rope! The newcomer ultimately upsets Kivell!”

 

(King) – “Pfft, that idiot… his parents’ upbringing must have sucked, they didn’t tell him when there was *every* excuse to quit the game!”

 

Matthew Kivell stands back up and looks down on John Cougar, who is barely holding the bottom rope. Immediately with a killer instinct, Kivell thrusts his hard boot into Cougar’s right arm, and the rookie screams out in sheer agony! Continuing his brutal tactics, Kivell dragged Cougar straight back up by his now-bruised arm and gave the rookie one STIFF CHOP~ after another, piercing into his lungs once more, and then Kivell decided to stiffly whip John Cougar into the turnbuckle… and Cougar’s spine collided with the steel post! Kivell smirked cockily and backed himself up into the opposite turnbuckle.

 

(Axis) – “He’s readying for a frontal assault…”

 

So therefore, Kivell charges his monstrous self straight towards the fallen John Cougar, whom lies against the T.B., and leaps forwards to crush his giant muscular mass right up against John Cougar’s much-smaller frame! CRUNCHO~!

 

(Axis) – “And the rookie becomes a flattened sandwich in between Kivell and the steel post!”

 

(King) – “Oh my god, you’re kidding… he didn’t remember to roll out of the way!?!?!!?! Hahaahahahaha!”

 

After John Cougar crumples into a pained mess under the top turnbuckle, Kivell backs up and laughs at Mr. Cougar’s attempts at still lasting 2 minutes into the match. Kivell looks toward the crowd and screams at them, “What do you think of me now? HUH!?” and gains one gigantic, collective jeering from the crowd… but the downed rookie wipes the sweat off of his brow, and looks up towards Kivell with one rather unhealthy bout of chuckling under his breath… Matt Kivell teems with impatience! So to bring an end to the fight, Kivell grabs a hold of Cougar, applies an inverted facelock, and lifts the rookie up by the tights, to crush his skull against the mat with one swift force!

 

“IMPALER DDT! THIS LOOKS TO BE OVER!”

 

ONE…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!!!!!

 

(Axis) – “KIVELL HAS FINALLY WON A MATCH IN THE JL! COUGAR IS *OUT*!”

 

The referee stands up to signal for the call of the bell, but sees that John’s leg is suspended by that same freaking bottom rope!

 

(Axis) – “NO! COUGAR SOMEHOW BROKE THE PIN!”

 

Kivell looked around like he was going to become completely insane, as the fans in the crowd cheered and cheered like there was no tomorrow. As Kivell has had this bullshit up to here, he immediately picked John Cougar back up and held him by his greasy hair, and Matt Kivell let go of the spiteful rookie, just to enjoy watching him wobble around with muscles full of no energy. As John Cougar continued his blank stare towards Kivell, the referee became worried and held John Cougar’s arm up to see if he was conscious.

 

(Edwin) – “Poor bloke. He gave it his all, just to make it into a feeder fed…”

 

As the referee feels the limpness in John’s limb, Kivell explodes in anger and knocks the referee down with a stiff clothesline, knocking Cougar down as well!

 

(Axis) – “Good grief! Kivell just took out the referee! He knows that he can’t score a pinfall now… does this mean that he just wants to beat this poor newcomer SENSELESS!?!?!?”

 

Matt Kivell rolls the referee out of the way, just so he can knock Kivell out of the ring with one swift-motioned kick to the sideribs! After John Cougar falls to the outside and the fans near him go mark-crazy, Kivell steps out to confront his foe once more and he lifts John Cougar upwards again… this time, he has his rookie fodder outside the ring. Since he can’t seem to pin this smartass, he’s just going to induce an inhumane amount of pain upon him…

 

Kivell clutches Cougar’s head and rams it face-first against the steel barricade!

 

“OOOHHH!!!”

 

Then again…

 

“OOOHHH!!!”

 

And again…

 

“OOOHHH!!!”

 

Whipping his hair up, Kivell sighs and turns back to Cougar. He turns the man around and grabs his two arms, and he surprisingly turns him upside down for a second time…

 

(Edwin) – “Hooooleeee furchtbar! That’s the same move Kivell used from the beginning to weaken Cougar! Now it’ll have to dispose of him!”

 

And with one great downward thrust down towards the stone-cold concrete…

 

(Axis) – “NOOOOO!!! UNDERHOOK TOMBSTONE!!!”

 

 

 

 

…

 

 

 

 

…And John Cougar locks his upside-down legs onto Kivell’s head to whip him into a Hurricanrana, forcing HIS skull onto the concrete instead! Whilst Matthew Kivell quickly is able to get himself back up, John Cougar makes a full half-assed stand and waves Kivell to come back for more…

 

“Now, you overroided BITCH…”

 

As Kivell stands up, John Cougar immediately puts Kivell into a DDT position…

 

 

…

 

 

“It’s time to FEED the motherfucking ALPHA beast!”

 

 

Johnny Cougar leaps up and swings around via Kivell’s head like he is going to hit a Tornado DDT……….. and then springs himself horizontally, making Kivell lose balance, and Cougar hovers near a turnbuckle post as he mercilessly drives Kivell down nose-flat with a sickening CLASH~ onto the steel steps!

 

(Axis) – “COUGAR CLAAAAAW!!!! COUGAR CLAAAAAW ON THE STEEL STEPS!”

 

Johnny has Kivell pinned down on the steps, and the referee that was already struggling to get up decides to do a 3-count from the ring!

 

“ONE!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

 

 

 

“THREEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

(Axis) – “HOLY SHIT! THE ROOKIE JUST WON HIS FIRST MATCH!!!”

 

(King) – “OK, first off this is a dark match. Second-off, that referee needs to be fired. You can’t call an outside pinfal-“

 

(Axis) – “WHO CARES!? HE WON! YES!”

 

 

 

“Your winnner, via pinfall………….. JOHN! COUGARRRR!!!!”

 

(Edwin) – “Astonishing. After all that Kivell had to go through to make the little bitch power out, Cougar strikes him down with *one* move! Kivell continues his jobbing ways…”

 

(King) – “…in other news? Come on, enough of this crap… where’s Renegade!? He better be out here next…”

 

 

 

 

…as “Head in a Hole” plays in the background and Cougar does his “Sexy Beast” pose, the screen fades to black…

[Guest crusen86]

Pyros erupt from each side of the lawn like fiery geysers, spurting out row after row of gala and fluorescent illumes. The camera goes on crazy mode, meticulously narrowing on various typical markish signs that can probably bee seen anywhere else around the green green turf.

 

“WE ARE HERE LIVE FROM THE LAWN! Welcome to SJL Crimson, I’m Axis sitting here ringside by Edwin Macphisto and The Suicide King.” Axis says, greeting the fans.

 

“And boy oh boy what a show we have planned, a card brimming with nothing but palpitating adrenaline fuelled fun to the max!” Edwin adds.

 

“New champion crowned last Wrath, as Renegade became a two time SJL World Champion by defeating C.I.A in a brutal Hell in a swimming pool match.” King says.

 

“PICK UP THE PACE!”

 

The opening to “(SIC)” rips through the speakers as it peels every blade of grass from the lawn with its sheer ear-splitting volume. Renegade steps onto the ramp, soaking up animadversion as he lowers his head at a blind angle. Renegade takes two steps forward as he thrusts his two hands over his head. Renegade abruptly pulls his arms down:

 

BANG!

 

A pyro detonates into the empty airspace and shines down in a cluster of effervescent droplets. Renegade gazes at the hate-filled crowd, but for some strange reason he doesn’t retaliate with his pleonastic inclination to blaspheme the fans. Instead Renegade merely detaches the chunk of gold off his belt and waves it in front of the fans, showing off his newly required prize and in the long run just masticating his own ego. Renegade reels under the bottom rope and makes his way to the nearest turnbuckle, mounting it as he raises his right arm. The World belt dangles down Renegade’s arm as he clutches it by the upper section of the strap. Renegade hops down from the turnbuckle only to ascend another, again repeating the action, but this time rising the middle finger from his free arm to flip off the crowd. Renegade continues to do this action until he finally tires and takes centre ring. Renegade raises his finger as he squints his eyes, asking the crowd to give him one minute as he straps the belt back onto his waist. Renegade grabs a microphone from Funyon and brings it up close to his face.

 

“ONE MORE TIME FOR THE…”

 

Renegade waves his arms back and forth, prompting the crowd to continue. The crowd merely jeers, refusing to participate in this petty narcissistic feast.

 

“OH COME ON! ONE MORE TIME FOR THE…”

 

The crowd still repudiates the idea, as Renegade grows tiresome. Renegade changes his mood again as he sneers.

 

“ONE MORE TIME FOR THE RENEGADE MASSSTAAAAAH!” Renegade says as he rolls his catchphrase nicely off his tongue with an ecstatic release.

 

“Yes, I know you’re pissed. I mean why shouldn’t you be? Renegade the TWO times World champ, Renegade the man who has won every SJL title there is has come to Woodbridge Virginia, but has no match. Yes I know it sucks!” Renegade cackles, as he knows as well as anyone that that isn’t the reason.

 

“Renegade doing nothing to impress the fans here.”

 

“Yes all five of them.” Edwin says.

 

“But don’t fret, because after a long hard fought tournament you finally have a real champion, the D-4 Damager with the ill behaviour, Renegade is your world champion! And guess what? This belt ain’t going nowhere. I mean who’s going to stop me? C.I.A? (A huge pop rises with only the mention of the name) We went through the swimming pool on Wrath and guess what happened? C.I.A was left beaten and bloodied, and you know what felt great? I DID IT! That’s right, “I” spilt C.I.A’s head open with the steel chair, “I” suplexed C.I.A’s defective, shattered body all over the concrete and “I” threw that bitches ass from the diving board into the unpadded pool surface. You think I won’t do it again if given the chance? C.I.A I beat you, I will next time and the time after that, and the time after that, you think tha…

 

And suddenly interrupting the copious opening words from the SJL World Champion comes the background beats of "Ashes In The Fall" by Rage Against The Machine.

 

The outdoors PA System blares the music as loud as it can, shocking the World Champion, the announce booth and quite frankly every fan of the Smarks Junior League.

 

As the stable walks out, each member dressed to the T in long, black trenchcoats, and black dark shades. The Rising Son Y2K walks out first and stands on the entrance ramp. Fugue and Mike Van Siclen follow him and stand to left and right respectively, forming a triangle and The Franchise comes out next standing in between MVS and Fugue completing the triangle.

 

BAM! BAM! BAM!

 

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

 

Pyrotechnics erupt around the quartet and the sWo members raise their hands in respect to their stable manager.

 

“Woah, woah, woah! Hold the phone baby!” Comes the voice of Mak Francis current sWo leader with a mic in hand. The fans let him know how they feel by once again booing the crap out of the sWo!

 

“Shut up you fools. You should bow down and pay the toll. Pay Tribute like the underlings you are! Just to be in our regal presence. Just like T-bone had to pay the Tribute on the swimming pool floor at Wrathapalooza!”

 

“Francis, talking about that move he hit the boner with after their war on Wrathapalooza.” Adds Axis.

 

“It was something I haven’t seen for a while, a Dragon Sleeper Russian Leg Sweep.” Remembers Edwin MacPhisto.

 

“Yup, he told me he called it the Tribute because the fans should be paying extra money beyond the normal gate just to watch the sWo in action. A fine name if I’ve ever heard one!” King says.

 

“Renegade, the World Champ. We aren’t here to talk about you yet. I’ll get back to you. We’re here talk about the most dominant stable in SJL history. Let’em know what we’re here to say M-V-S.”

 

Renegade looks on, baffled at why the sWo are here in the first place. Francis hands the mic to Mike Van Siclen who is more than irate at the fans reaction.

 

“These fans need to shut up and pay attention.” Says an angry MVS. “I’ve bled, sweat, and gave my all for this wrestling company and what did it get me? I’ll tell you what. A goddamn broken leg and a short Euro title run. I’m better than that. I’m better than you fans are. And I’m damn sure better than T-bone!”

 

MVS stares down the ramp at the table and points. “I was held down by none other than our own beloved commissioner Edwin MacPhisto and never given a true shot to show why I’m the Amazin’ One!”

 

Renegade stands in the ring still in disbelief of the group of four men interrupting his time.

 

“So T-bone when I get into the ring tonight and dump you on your head for the second time, just remember the splat, crackle and pop of your neck hitting the mat. Then hear the sound of the 1-2-3 that’ll be counted in favour of the SJL’s true sWo’s M-V-P!”

 

Van Siclen hands the mic back down to Y2K who paces a little bit before speaking.

 

“I told you fans that we’d be bigger and better. I said that we’d survive but you didn’t believe it. And I love to prove the disbeliveers wrong. MacPhisto you too are a disbeliever, because I deserve the prime time shot and the chance to be a star but you won’t let that happen. Not for me, Mak Francis, Fugue or MVS!”

 

The crowd is less than pleased to say the least as they continue to show their disapproval through continues stream of jeers. Renegade chortles at this pointless bitching and decides to let this thing play out a bit longer as he starts to find them amusing.

 

Y2K clenches his fist, “You mock and you joke but in the end we’ll get the last laugh. The last laugh will come when we burn down the SJL. And all that will be left is Ashes. Ashes in the fall!”

 

Fugue reaches out and puts his hand companionably on Y2K's shoulder. The enraged Y2K shakes his fist at the crowd and yells something the microphone doesn't catch...then he hands it to Fugue, who smiles and steps up in front of the rest of the group.

 

"Oh, no, now what?" Edwin asks.

 

"Greetings to all of my fans here in Woodbridge!" The musician raises his arms, and the crowd boos solidly. Y2K stares at his stablemate, as MVS rolls his eyes. Fugue's eyes glitter as he grins out at the fans.

 

"Now I know what you're all thinking," he continues. "You're thinking, why, Fugue, why? Why join the sWo? And I can't disappoint my fans by not answering that question!"

 

"Fans?" Edwin asks. "Where?"

 

"Quiet, Edwin, I want to hear this," the King replies.

 

"It's simple, really. I listened to the voices of these men--" He looks around at his team-mates.

 

"These young, angry, hungry men--I listened to their alluring, fiery songs. And I realised the peaks their melodies could rise to.

 

" Fugue begins to pace as the audience murmurs in bewilderment. "You see--I have a match with Thor tonight. And Thor is reputedly old--very old."

 

Fugue leers down at the fans as he walks back and forth. "But I know some old songs too. Some VERY old songs. And we, the sWo, we have the fire of youth on our side."

 

Fugue gestures grandly, and the sWo stands up straighter. "And an orchestration is greater than the sum of its parts. There's something very powerful about voices raised together in Harmony." Fugue makes wide sweeping motions with his hands as his stablemates stare at him.

 

"...what the HELL is he talking about?" Edwin asks.

 

The King shrugs. "I dunno about the details, but basically he's going to kick Thor's ass."

 

"So in conclusion! We know he's Thor--but after I get through with him, he's going to be Thor for WEEKTH! Over to you, Mak!"

 

And with that, Fugue hands the mic back to Mak Francis, who blinks at him and coughs once. "Uh, well, now that we're done addressing that--"

 

“Hold on now. I remember you. You’re that kid I Renebraked into oblivion on the way to winning my World Title again. “Chump change Mak Francis.” Renegade says. Mak opens his mouth to retaliate but Renegade hushes him with a quicker response.

 

“Yes yes, I know you’re the sWo, but do you know what? WHOOP-DI-SH*T!” Renegade howls to an unexpected pop.

 

“MVS, Fugue, Y2K your speeches really got to me, it got me right here.” Renegade says as he satirically raps his fist over his heart.

 

“BOO-HOO! Look at me I was held down! I have a broken leg, my daddy doesn’t love me blah blah blah!” Renegade says he mockingly sobs.

 

The crowd laughs at the joke forgetting about his earlier attitude for only a second and then they quiet.

 

“Yeah you think you're funny talking to the Franchise like that but it won’t be like that soon. Don’t worry it’ll be a whole new ball game. And I don’t know why your saying C.I.A this and C.I.A that. He’s nothing more than a tool these fans use to cheer.” Mak says.

 

And right on cue the fans break out into a C.I.A chant. “Cheer him all you want I don’t see him out here. Renegade, when I take care of him in the steel cage tonight I'm coming right after you next. I request, no want, NO I DEMAND a World title shot. You may think that C.I.A is your real problem but it’s definitely me. C.I.A already knows why I get the Franchise bab-”

 

“O CA-NA-DAAA!”

 

…. The fans in the arena erupt as the opening rift to ‘secret agent man’ blares through the speakers, and the Smarktron lights up, showing the face of C.I.A, a rather prominent bruise still discolouring his chin and throat. Nevertheless, he smiles with a big, goofy smile. Raising a microphone to his lips, C.I.A is just about to begin speaking, but he halts, coughing, and raises a cup, taking a long sip. He smiles again, holding up the cup so everyone can see what a large coffee from Tim Horton’s looks like. Raising his microphone up once more the Canadian tilts his head back, and cries out for the audience’s enjoyment. “Greetings, Lawn inhabitants, from the frozen north!” As the fans cheer, C.I.A merely continues, beginning to pace back and forth, camera following as he speaks into the microphone with his usual flair. “Sorry I’m late folks, I had some construction to get finished. But I couldn’t hold off any longer. I mean, the sWo? Renegade? My gosh, you all must be bored to tears!”

 

Renegade and the various sWo members seem to take umbrage at this, Mak Francis particularly raising his mic and crying foul as the fans cheer even louder for their Canadian hero.

 

“Hey! Hey, you Canadian punk! You want to talk? How about talking in the ring? I made your ass tap out, cause I’m the Franchise, baby!” The fans erupt in boos, yelling curses and insults towards the self proclaimed franchise.

 

“And hey, you want to talk about the guy in the ring? The guy who threw your ass 15 feet into a concrete pool and BROKE YOU IN TWO for the title? Hey, if he’s not in my league, he’s certainly beyond yours!”

 

The fans continue to rain disapproval on the sWo’s most vocal man, while C.I.A seems to be lost in thought, running his fingers over the sides of his goatee, and nodding his head gently, almost comically over the top. Raising his microphone once more, the Canadian fires off with his most intelligent reply.

 

“Shut, it, bitch-boy.” Smiling, the Canadian allows the fans to start a ‘bitch-boy’ chant, to that Mak Francis responds quite badly.

 

“You made me tap in a match involving more than just you and me, my most annoying arch nemesis. But yeah, you did. You won two titles, Mak. And then you lost both of them in a single night! Remind me who got pinned for those belts?”

 

Francis shakes his head, slapping his hands together three times, very fast, and pointing towards the Smarktron as he yells. C.I.A ignores him, and smiles. “Chill out, Mak. Try decaf or something. And hey, you want to talk about the guy in the ring, your SJL world champion, you go right ahead. Cause he did push me to my limits. And I pushed him right back. You may have won, but it’s not over, Renegade. I’m here cause I want a REMATCH for that title! And I think the fans here want you to give it to me!” The crowd agrees, quite vocally, and the camera finally cuts back to Gade in center ring, belt strapped around his waist. He seems to find this whole exercise rather bothersome.

 

“You think you both can just come onto the ramp and say what’s on your minds, and just think somehow you two will get a title shot? NO! Because you see, NEITHER of you deserve it. C.I.A you say it isn’t over? And what the hell makes you think that your going to get another shot at me? So what if the fans want you to have another title shot, their opinion means jack-sh*t! The Franchise, you and your sWo, yes you have your posse so what? Face it, you lost both your titles and you think you can get a World title shot when you couldn’t even defend the European or Television title. Not only neither of you is getting a shot, I’m making myself special enforcer for the main event cage match tonight!” Renegade says.

 

“Now hold on a second!” Booms a voice behind Renegade. Renegade turns around to view Edwin who has risen from the announcing tables, mic to his mouth as he speaks.

 

“Since when do you have the authority to make yourself anything? I tell you, you have no authority! But…yes, Renegade shall be the special enforcer for tonight’s main event.” Edwin says, leaving the crowd shocked to the fact that Edwin has agreed to Renegade’s demand. Renegade smiles in glee, but Edwin still has more to say.

 

“But since you seem so eager to partake in tonight’s main event Rene, how about we make the main event to your pleasing?” Renegade looks on desirously, expecting Edwin to extendedly sweeten the deal.

 

“Tonight’s main event will be the steel cage match with Mak Francis and C.I.A, WITH Renegade as the special enforcer…”

 

Renegade beams, preparing for further undeserved guerdons.

 

…

 

…

 

“AND the winner of the match shall be the NUMBER ONE CONTENDER TO THE WORLD TITLE!” Edwin booms, igniting an explosion of gaiety.

 

Mak and C.I.A nod in contentment as Renegade is left infuriated and paralysed by his endowment to change Edwin’s statement. The shock of Edwin’s decree sires a very small stream of sweat that dribbles from Renegade’s forehead, as he tries to salvage any remaining order by feigning that he takes no fret to what he has just heard.

 

C.I.A somehow sees Renegade’s dismay as he pushes the mic up to his lips. “DUN DUN DUN DUN DUNNNNNNNNNNN!” C.I.A whoops in an unthinkably overstated tone.

 

“You know what? That’s fine with me! It doesn’t matter if I have to kick Francis’s ass or C.I.A’s, I’ve done it once and I will sure as hell do it again and again and again, cause that’s what kind of champion Renegade really is!” Renegade clamours as he places both of his hands over his belt, obliviously stroking the belt as he speaks. “Play my music!” Renegade shouts to the tech crew as “(SIC)” plays over again.

 

“That should put that him in his place.” Edwin says as he seats himself by the announcing tables again.

 

“Don’t away folks we’ll be right back!”

 

(Fades to a brisk commercial break.)

[Guest crusen86]

A group of four men can be seen strolling around the backstage area, directly after a grand announcement from JL commissioner Edwin MacPhisto about tonight?s? Main Event.

 

?Can you believe the way Renegade talked to us!? states Mike Van Siclen, reminding the group of the recent altercation. An altercation which proved to be a promising turn of events for the current sWo leader. A stunning change of events, as normally Edwin would do everything in his power to screw him over. He must be banking on CIA to win the match.

 

?He showed us no respect out there, smirking and making his holier-than-thou comments. That?s my job, right guys!?

 

At that comment the three other group members groan sarcastically and laugh. Mak, walking side by side with Mike, jokingly rolls his eyes. The off duty Franchise puts his arm around his friends shoulder and pulls him over. ?I wouldn?t worry about him, Mike. He?ll pay the price for disrespecting you guys.? emphasizes Francis, changing to a serious tone.

 

?Rickmen thought he could disrespect the New Sound. My friends Fletcher and Matt?? Mak Francis laments now remembering how things were a little while ago. ?All I did was show them the proper respect, be their friend and they gave me the chance to be apart of something great.?

 

?They started the fiery Harmony of this New Sound Mak...A sound that was music to my ears.?

 

The other members collectively blink and chuckle at Fugue's comments.

 

?What are you taking about Tony? Can you like, get out of character for a moment. We?re going talk about serious stable stuff like how bad we?re gonna beat people up and whether to play Playstation 2, X-box or Gamecube when we get back to the locker room,? replies Mike in a mock serious tone.

 

?Bah?Shut up Mike. We are actually going to talk about something serious?that gonna go down later tonight. Something real special for Thor.? But Mak goes back to his requiem of Matt and Fletcher. ?But still, I wish they would come back. All they wanted was this to be a true stable and we finally are.?

 

?Well I might not have met Fletcher, Mak, but Matt and I got close.?

 

?Yeah, I know Y2K. Hey man, me and you have been in this thing for a while and you still haven?t told me your name.?

 

?Don?t worry about it, Mak. Y2K just has that ring to it.?

 

?Okay, how about we go back to the 20th century when that was cool,? retorts Fugue with a hint of sarcasm. Y2K jumps at Fugue trying to get in a shot, which gets dodged. ?Harmony is love man.?

 

?Burn Tony! Score one for the musician! I knew we recruited you for a reason. Not only because me, Y2K Bug and Mak were surprised that you beat me but your comedic wit.?

 

?Don?t instigate Mike.?

 

?Different melody, same song, Mike. Different melody, same song.?

 

?I don?t understand what the hell you just said, but when my character kicks yours' ass in Wrestlemania X-8 we?ll see just how Amazin? I am.?

 

?I have to say that the Y2K mastah doesn?t get it either.?

 

?Well, I get it, but I don?t necessarily like that attitude Tony. So we?re gonna be cool and keep something?s to ourselves. Okay baby.?

 

- Don-na-nona-don-na-nonan-don-na-don-dan-din -

 

The sound of a Nokia cellular phone echoes in the hallway. Francis opens and answers his small blue Nokia phone.

 

?Hello??

 

The voice on the other end is that of Chris Wilson, manager of the SJL super stable. Francis hushes the three other men and answers back.

 

?Uh yes sir Mr. Wilson. Fugue and Mike are here with me. Do you want to talk to them??

 

A pause?the clock on the phone changes by one minute?

 

?Okay, here you go Tony.?

 

Francis hands Fugue the phone and he listens to Wilson speak.

 

?Yes, I understand. I know why you brought me in.?

 

After hearing a few more words he tosses the phone back to Francis and mumbles under his breath so that no one can hear, ?why you *think* you brought me in.?

 

The four men continue chattering and turn the corner where their locker room is placed for today?s show?

 

Mak continues on with Mr. Wilson?the timepiece on the phone changes and the phone beeps as he hangs up in pure shock?

 

They look at the door?

 

And the new wide screen like Plexiglas window beside it?

 

?

 

Then back at the door?

 

?

 

And back to the window?

 

?

 

And back to the frickin' door, which still has the trademark sWo on it?

 

?

 

And then one last time to the window, which has the phrase Tim Horton?s emblazon over the glass?

 

The timepiece beeps like clockwork?

 

?

 

?

 

?What in the HOLY HELL? TIM HORTON?S?????

 

They all just stare in disbelief. Then suddenly Y2K comes to a realization. ?Wait Mak, didn?t CIA say something about some kind of construction?!?

 

?Didn?t he also have a big ass cup from Tim Horton?s?!?

 

Francis breathes in and out slowly while he flexes his left hand his anger. It?s the one major tell tale sign when he is supremely pissed off! He mumbles a mantra about ?I must not get angry? over and over again until he finally breaks and goes berserk.

 

?CCCCC-IIIIIIIIIII-AAAAAAAAAAA!!!! GOD DAMNIT, I?M GONNA KICK FUCKING CANADIAN ASS ONCE AND FOR ALL!!?

 

?Calm, down Mak it?s not the end of the world. How about we go inside our?locker room and chill out.?

 

?Fine!?

 

The four sWo members enter and look around walking up to the counter. The cute girl, serving them smiles brightly. ?Hello welcome to Tim Horton?s. How may I help YOU?? says the girl not to subtly directed at MVS.

 

Mike Van Siclen smiles at the cute girl and starts up with that Amazin charm, while Francis Fugue and Y2K snicker. ?Can we get a few coffees? We?ve got a hard day ahead of us and hopefully I?ll have a late night??

 

Mike gives her a wink causing her to blush as she leaves.

 

?Alright, free food on Mike.? Whispers Francis

 

And the girl returns bringing over a few extra muffins and stuff, along with the coffee. Then pink-cheeked girl sees their shirts and all of a sudden busts out laughing. ?You guys might want to try our special.?

 

In big bold lettering off to the right is a sign that says: ?Try our new sWo pack, Three vanilla dips and a hunk of week old coffee cake. Both dark, rich, and TOTALLY played out.?

 

Francis begins to flex his left hand again but the phone interrupts his next loud triad. ?Hello sir I?m sorry I hung ? hey who is this your not Mr. Wilson?? Suddenly his eyes light up. ??ARE YOU SERIOUS!!? the whole store looks at him like he?s crazy but he doesn?t care. ?Okay, Peace!?

 

There has been both good and bad today for the sWo but it just got a whole lot better for Mak Francis.

 

Crusen Note: From what I could tell, your promos looked the same - I got told to post Fugue's so I did - despite warped ?.

[Guest crusen86]

King: “We’re still on, right Axis?”

Axis: “Yeah, quiet. Welcome, mates, to SJL Crimson! We’re starting off the night-

King: “After a boring speech by new SJL Champion Renegade.”

Edwin: “You just said it was-“

King: “I lied.”

Axis: “-with a number one contendership match between two impressive competitors. A few weeks ago, “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins made an impressive debut win over “The Rising Sun” Y2K.”

Edwin: “Who just got his behind handed to him on Wrathapalooza by TV Champion, Thor.”

King: “Just a few days ago, Kamikaze made a not-so-impressive win over Cutthroat.”

Edwin: “Any win is impressive!”

Axis: “And that TV Title will be which number one contendership these two battle over, right now!”

 

Kottonmouth Kings’ “Peace Not Greed” kicks up over the stereo system, arousing a hearty cheer from the crowd assembled on The Lawn.

 

Funyon: “The following contest is scheduled for one fall! The winner of this bout will be the number one contender to the TV Title. Introducing first, from Hollywood, California.. weighing in at two hundred and twenty pounds.. “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins!!”

 

The stoner appears on the stage and waves at the assembly. Lights set up on four huge, towering scaffolds flash in and out of the darkness as Spike makes his way to the ring. Every three steps or so he pauses to pose for the crowd. “Hollywood” takes a few running steps and slides into the ring. He steps onto the middle rope and poses again for the crowd. “Peace Not Greed” fades and a few seconds of silence follow.

 

Edwin: “He’s not gonna say anything tonight?”

King: “Maybe he’s actually clean.”

Axis: “I’m sure he’ll have plenty to say during the match.. Kamikaze sure did some conversing last week.”

King: “That was with ‘Maria.’ It doesn’t count.”

 

The silence is interrupted as “I Stand Alone” by Godsmack begins playing. A few more cheers than were received at Wrathapalooza sound as Kamikaze steps onto the stage. He carries with him a bottle of water. As Kam makes his way down the ramp, the nutcase tosses some of the clear, refreshing liquid over his head and back.

 

Funyon: “And his opponent, from Minnetonka, Minnesota, weighing in at two hundred and forty five pounds.. Kamikaze!”

 

Kamikaze sets the near empty bottle of water on the steel stairs and then rolls into the ring under the bottom rope. He stands and jumps onto the nearest turnbuckle. He throws his arms up as he shouts at the crowd.

 

Kam: “KAAMIKAAAZEE!!!”

 

With a shake of his head, water droplets spray about, arousing a cheer from those nearby. Spike rubs a hand slowly down his face, wiping the water from his cheek. He chuckle a bit and glances at the referee. Kamikaze jumps down from the turnbuckle and lumbers toward Jenkins. The stoner turns around and receives a punch to the jaw. The bell rings as Spike hits the mat.

 

Axis: “Kamikaze jumps into action..”

Edwin: “That wasn’t very fair.”

King: “Good planning if you ask me.”

Edwin: “I didn’t.”

Axis: “Spike is back up, only to be knocked down to the mat with another right hand from Kamikaze.”

 

After the third trip to the mat, Spike Jenkins gets to his feet, but stumbles back and out of Kamikaze’s reach. “Hollywood” leans against the ropes, but is then ejected from the ring as Kamikaze lands a hard clothesline. Kam drops to the mat and rolls out of the ring.

 

King: “He’s not even Japanese.”

Edwin: “Since when does he have to be Japanese?”

King: “Kamikaze is a decidedly Japanese term.”

Edwin: “That doesn’t mean he has to be from Japan.”

Axis: “Back to the match.. Kamikaze whips “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins toward the steel stairs..”

 

But Spike reverses, sending Kamikaze shoulder first into the stairs. Kam howls in pain, holding his shoulder as he rolls into the barrier. Spike grabs up Kamikaze by his hair, bringing him to his feet. Jenkins rests Kam against the barrier and proceeds to smack him across his bare chest.

 

Crowd: “Woo!”

 

Smack!

 

Crowd: “Wooo!”

 

Kamikaze hunches over, covering his chest. Spike reaches to reveal Kam’s chest, but Kamikaze grabs Jenkins and spins him around, throwing him against the barrier. The nutcase grabs “Hollywood”s tank top and brings it up and over his head. Spike flails, trying to pull his tank top down, but grabs his chest in pain as Kamikaze smacks him across the chest.

 

Crowd: “Woooo!”

 

King: “He’s from Minnesota. What the Hell is in Minnesota?”

Edwin: “The Mall of America.”

Axis: “It took you a while to come up with that one.”

King: “And?”

Edwin: “Lakes.”

King: “And?”

Edwin: “Pandas.”

King: “Thank you.”

 

The Suicide King extends his open hand toward Axis, who has a disgruntled look on his face.

 

Axis: “Dammit, Edwin! You only had two more minutes!”

 

Edwin raises a brow at Axis as the Australian pulls out his wallet and hands the King a crisp twenty-dollar bill. The camera shot switches from the announce table to the ring. Kamikaze reaches for Spike and receives a swift knee to the gut. Kam doubles over, allowing Jenkins to wrap his arm around Kam’s neck and drop back into a DDT.

 

Axis: “Ouch, DDT onto the padded concrete.”

King: “There’s an oxymoron for you.”

Edwin: “It takes one to know one!”

 

The referee finally gets a hold of the situation, warning Spike to get Kam back into the ring. “Hollywood” picks up Kamikaze by his hair and leads him toward the ring. Spike rolls Kam in, then follows and gets to his feet. Jenkins poses for the crowd and flashes a smile as a cheer erupts. He begins doing a jig, dancing as Kamikaze makes his way to his feet.

 

King: “Kamikaze better be careful..”

 

Kamikaze turns around, and Spike stops his jig, thrusting a thumb toward Kam’s face. The nutball stands still, but shoots a hand up, causing Jenkins to jam his thumb into Kam’s palm.

 

Kam: “Talk to the hand, sista, ‘cause the face ain’t hearin’ it.”

 

Edwin: “What the..”

King: “That’s my boy!”

Axis: “Kamikaze stops Spike in his tracks with an.. angry black woman impression..”

 

Jenkins gives Kamikaze a very odd look.

 

Spike: “Maan, you’re more toasted than I am. Cool!”

 

“Hollywood” flashes another smile, chuckling under his breath and he shakes out his hand. Kamikaze still holds his hand up, shaking his head from side to side just like an angry black woman. He suddenly stops and glances at ringside. Kam nods his head and mutters.

 

Kam: “Oh. Okay.”

 

Kamikaze turns back to Spike Jenkins, and finds the man’s hand extended toward him. Kam looks back toward the empty air at ringside, then again at Spike.

 

King: “Oh, Kamikaze interrupted Spike’s attempt at niceties before the match started, so “Hollywood” is gonna attempt it now. What kind of wrestling match is this?!”

Edwin: “I’m impressed! We hardly ever see this kind of sportsmanship!”

Axis: “Kamikaze is taking the handshake..”

 

The crowd cheers a bit as Spike flashes another smile. Kamikaze then pulls Jenkins in hard, clotheslining him to the mat.

 

Axis: “And Kamikaze with a short arm clothesline..”

King: “Okay, I get it now. That’s cool.”

Edwin: “You wouldn’t know cool if you tripped over it on your way to confessional!”

King: “That statement is completely bogus and off the wall.”

 

The somewhat dastardly act from Kamikaze actually gets a few boos from the audience. Oblivious, Kamikaze keeps Spike down with stomps to the gut and head. Jenkins rolls with a particularly powerful kick, landing into the ropes. He uses them to pull himself to his feet, but Kamikaze is right on top of him. Kam grabs Spike, whipping him across the ring. Jenkins rebounds and runs right into Kamikaze’s clothesline.

 

King: “Kamikaze’s doing a good job of keeping Spike Jenkins off the offensive.”

Edwin: “And on the mat!”

Axis: “Kamikaze is heading for the turnbuckle.”

 

Kam backs into a corner, climbing up to the second rope. With an easy leap, Kamikaze drops a leg over Spike’s chest. The nutcase maneuvers around, grabbing up Spike’s leg for a pinfall attempt.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

Spike shoots a shoulder up. Kam growls in irritation and grabs Jenkins by the hair, pulling him to his feet. Mustering all his strength, Kamikaze throws Spike into the corner. Jenkins lands into the corner with such force, that he falls forward to the mat, holding his back in pain. As Spike gets to all fours, Kam saunters over, landing a kick to Jenkins’ back. He then grabs up Spike again, setting him up for a suplex. As Kamikaze lifts, Spike lifts a leg, stopping Kam from lifting him up. Another try, Spike blocks again. Kamikaze punches Spike in the ribs, then quickly lifts him up and over, completing the suplex.

 

King: “Perseverance always pays off.”

Axis: “Kamikaze with another cover.”

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

Again, Spike thwarts Kam’s win. Kamikaze stands and paces in a circle, running his hand through his mangy hair.

 

Kam: “NO!”

 

Edwin: “Uh, oh. Maria’s out again.”

King: “Kamikaze’s refusing her advice. Never listen to a woman!”

 

Kamikaze shakes his head violently, waving his arms like a football official signaling an incomplete pass. Behind him, Spike slowly makes his way to his feet. Kam turns around, and Spike kicks the nutball in the stomach, doubling him over. Jenkins makes a run for the ropes, bounces off and charges at Kamikaze, grabbing him around the neck and spinning him around.

 

Spike: “OOOOOOH WEEEEEEE!”

 

Edwin: “DDT!”

Axis: “And Spike nails an ‘OH WE DDT’!”

King: “But he’s wasted the energy he needs to make a cover. Kamikaze beat him down good.”

 

Kamikaze lays flat on his back, breathing heavily. As “Hollywood” lays down for the cover, a murmur from Kam stops him from making the pinfall.

 

Kam: “Oh, Ee, Oh. Ee-ooh-oh. Oh, Ee, Oh. Ee-ooh-oh.”

 

Edwin: “Ahhh! Terrible flashbacks! Run! Run from the flying monkeys!!”

Axis: “You were traumatized by the Wizard of Oz?”

Edwin: “Those monkeys gave me nightmares!”

 

The Suicide King just laughs. Spike shakes out of his surprise and covers Kamikaze.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

Kamikaze lifts a shoulder, blinking the glaze from his eyes. “Hollywood” jumps up and makes another run to the ropes. After rebounding, Spike rolls forward, then leaps up and somersaults onto Kamikaze.

 

Axis: “Rolling Thunder from Jenkins..”

 

ONE!

 

Kamikaze upsets Jenkins again. Spike stands and guides Kam to his feet. Spike lands a few punches, sending Kamikaze against the ropes. Jenkins grabs Kam’s arm, whipping him across the ring. Kamikaze ricochets, running right toward a bent over Jenkins, and grabs “Hollywood” in a quick neckbreaker. Kamikaze quickly stands and drops again, landing an elbow on Spike’s chest.

 

King: “Kamikaze regains control.”

 

Kamikaze stands, moving as if he’s finally figured out what his plan is. Kam grabs hold of Spike’s wrist, whipping him across the ring. Spike bounces off the ropes and returns to Kamikaze, only to be flipped over with an arm drag. Kamikaze holds onto Spike’s arm, holding him in a shoulderlock. Jenkins grimaces, but smiles at the referee as he moves in. “Hollywood” shakes his head at the referee’s question, causing Kamikaze to yank on Spike’s arm, torquing his shoulder just a little farther.

 

Axis: “Kamikaze with a shoulderlock. We saw this last week.”

Edwin: “Yes, but will Jenkins be able to slick his way out like Cutthroat did?”

King: “The stoner is probably lost in the clouds..”

 

With a quick reach, Jenkins grabs Kamikaze around the neck and tugs him to the mat, landing him in a quasi DDT. Spike keeps his hold on Kam, laying over his chest for a pinfall attempt.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

Kamikaze kicks out of the cover. Spike hops to his feet and begins stomping on Kam as he makes his way to his feet. Jenkins grabs one of Kams’ wrists, whipping Kamikaze across the ring. Kam rebounds and lies toward Spike, only to be floored by a spinning heel kick. Jenkins pops to his feet and runs to the ropes, springboarding off and moonsaulting onto Kam. Spike grins up at the crowd as he grabs up the nutball’s leg.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

Kamikaze lifts a shoulder, upsetting Jenkins. “Hollywood” stands and guides Kamikaze to his feet, landing a few punches. Kam stumbles back and into the corner. Spike keeps Kamikaze in the corner with a few shoulder thrusts, then does a backflip and charges in with a third, hard thrust. Kamikaze holds his stomach and drops into the corner. “Hollywood” dances back, raising his arms to the crowd, getting another cheer.

 

Axis: “And now “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins has control of this match up.”

King: “Kamikaze is allowing him to have control.”

 

Spike heads back toward Kamikaze and raises him up by his chin. Spike lands a few punches and then whips Kam across the ring, into the opposite corner. Kamikaze lands funny and stumbles forward, out of the corner, holding his back. Spike moves to the center of the ring, then hop-skips forward, landing a superkick right under Kam’s jaw!

 

Crowd: “Oooh!”

 

King: “Ow.”

Edwin: “A mighty superkick from the stoner!”

Axis: “And followed up with a nice spinning legdrop.”

 

Spike moves around and hooks one of Kamikazes’ legs.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

He thought.

 

Ref: “Two! TWO!”

 

The referee holds up two fingers.

 

Spike: “Aw, c’mon, that was three!”

 

Edwin: “Sure looked like three to me.”

King: “You’re blind.”

Axis: “The match continues..”

 

Kamikaze sits up suddenly. Spike runs to the turnbuckle and quickly ascends. After Kamikaze gets to his feet, Spike leaps from the top rope and wraps his ankles around Kam’s head, bringing Kamikaze down in a hurricanrana.

 

Edwin: “Big move from Spike Jenkins!”

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

Kam kicks out.

 

Axis: “Kamikaze refuses to stay down.”

 

Spike backs up a bit and hunches down, resting his hands on his knees and waiting for Kamikaze to stand. Kamikaze takes his time, shaking his head. Finally, Kam turns around and Spike charges, but Kamikaze reacts in an instant, thwarting Jenkins’ clothesline and grabbing him up and almost over his head, before throwing him back down to the mat with a powerful high angle spinebuster.

 

King: “Spike’s had it. He’s done.”

 

Kamikaze stumbles back and takes a deep breath.. then gets a crazed look in his eye.

 

Edwin: “And Kamikaze’s got that look in his eye..”

Axis: “Kamikaze heads for the turnbuckle.”

 

Kam pauses, holding up a finger to the crowd. They begin cheering a bit as Kamikaze reaches into his waistband and pulls out a Japanese bandana. He raises it to the fans before wrapping it around his forehead and securing it tightly. Kamikaze dashes to the turnbuckle, climbs to the top rope, then twists in the air and spreads his arms wide.

 

Kam: “KAAMIKAAAZEE!!”

 

Kamikaze sails toward the downed Pike Jenkins, but misses horribly as the stoner rolls out of the way.

 

Axis: “Jenkins rolls out of the way!”

King: “He was out!”

Edwin: “And Spike’s resilience saves him from a loss at the hands of Kamikaze.”

King: “It was Spike’s amphetamines that saved him.”

 

The wrestlers lay on the mat, both breathing heavily and attempting to regain any strength left to finish the match. Kamikaze begins making his way to his feet first. The referee stops his count as Kam gets to his feet. Spike is on his knees, but uses the ropes to pull himself the rest of the way up. Jenkins stumbles forward with a wide swing, which Kamikaze easily ducks under. Spike spins around, and Kam kicks him in the gut. Kamikaze picks up Spike and holds him straight in the air.

 

Axis: “Kamikaze’s going for something big here.”

 

After an agonizing five seconds, Kamikaze drops back, landing a brainbuster. Kam moves over for the cover.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

Edwin: “That was too easy.”

King: “Yeah, “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins was no match for Kamikaze.”

Axis: “And Kamikaze is the number one contender to the TV Title.”

 

Kamikaze rolls out of the ring as “I Stand Alone” by Godsmack plays over the speakers. A mixed cheer follows as Funyon announces the obvious.

 

Funyon: “Your winner.. and number one contender to the TV Title.. Kamikaze!!”

 

Kam raises his fists in the air as he backs up the ramp.

 

King: “Kamikaze will face Thor for the TV Title. Well deserved.”

Edwin: “The guy’s a n00b!”

Axis: “Up next, T-Bone and Mike Van Siclen clash in a no-Disqualification bout. After this commercial break!”

[Guest crusen86]

The last segment ends, giving way to a new one. The fans are still pumped, but their cheers soon quite out as the Tron screen comes back to life.

 

“Hello all.” The one, the only, Ben Hardy stands with JL newcomer, Tony Brogan. “Right here standing next to me, we have the Junior League’s newest prospect, Tony “The Ironman” Brogan, who has asked to share a few words with you here tonight. Tony…”

 

Ben steps aside, holding the mic up as Brogan accepts.

 

“I have a firm belief that talk is cheap unless you can back it up, but this is a special occasion and I assure you, I can back it up.” Brogan flashes his first smirk seen by the SJL fans, but it quickly passes. “It would be rude the guys in the back to not introduce the man who will be kicking your asses from here on out. I am Tony Brogan. I’ve been called the Personification of Domination, but you will know me as… The Ironman.”

 

Ben Hardy motions for the mic, but Brogan isn’t quite finished. His face intensifies.

 

“You will all come to know and respect that name. In fact, most of you will come to dread it because when you step into the ring with me, you’ve got two choices: Tap out… or get KNOCKED out! If you don’t believe me, meet me in the center of the ring come Metal and we’ll…heh…sort things out.”

 

The Ironman’s words fade away as he heads down the hall, leaving Ben Hardy a little unnerved, but with a mic in his hands. Ben’s eyes follow the Ironman, reading the back of his shirt:

 

‘Does Not Play Well With Others’

 

“Well, there you have it folks.” Ben sighs heavily as the scene ends.

 

Axis - “Strong words from the new guy. Lets see if he can back them up.”

 

Edwin – “Indeed, Axis. Now lets get ready for more senseless violence, up NEXT!”

 

Commercials? Yeah.

[Guest crusen86]

"No Party Like A Lawn Party" blares throughout the swank stereo system rigged up all over the Lawn as we return to SJL Crimson! Two lesbians make out with each other in a cage as the 100,000 strong crowd roars its approval of the dancers as the camera (unfortunately) pans over to the announcers desk, where Axis, Edwin MacPhisto, and the Suicide King sit, staring at the lesbians across the Lawn. With all the attention they're getting, Funyon has to be replaced for this occasion by everybody's favorite straight Smarks-affiliated diva… wait, we don't have any of those, do we? Oh well. A random backstage female (who we'll call Sheila) comes out to make the announcements for the next match.

 

"(Sheila) Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is a NO DISQUALIFICATIONS MATCH scheduled for ONE fall!"

 

Nobody cares as the first bell rings for AC/DC's "Hell's Bells." The SWFTron shows T-Bone hitting a Tiger Driver '91 on Kojack to win the TV Title, T-Bone accepting the title, and then T-Bone spitting out his A-1 Steak Sauce into the camera... however, nobody can see it because the light from the sun isn't permitting anyone to. Oh well. T-Bone comes out from the back, as the crowd cheers in approvement. T-Bone raises his arms, thinking the cheer is for him, but in reality one of the lesbians just flashed the crowd. T-Bone struts down to the ring, entering and reaching into the pocket of his leather jacket. Inside is the A-1 Sauce bottle. T-Bone takes a swig, tossing it to the crowd, but nobody cares because they're all watching the lesbians. T-Bone jumps onto the apron, spitting it out Triple H style, and going into the ring to wait for Mike Van Siclen.

 

"(Sheila) Introducing first, he is YOUR European champion, hailing from Sonoma, California, TEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-BONE!"

 

"It's a natural high…"

 

Loud boos echo throughout the Lawn as the lesbians stop dancing! "Natural High" by the Union Underground kicks up and the crowd calms down a little with the booing, but not much as Mike Van Siclen steps out and into the open field of the Lawn! The Amazin' One calmly walks down to the ring, sliding in and giving T-Bone a cold stare as Funyon snaps out of his trance, shoving Sheila out of the ring and grabbing the mic for himself, raising it to his lips to introduce MVS.

 

"(Funyon) And his opponent, hailing from Harrison, Illinois, weighing in at two-hundred thirty-seven pounds, the Amazin' one, MIIIIIIIIIKE VA-AN SIIIIIIIIIIIC-LEEEEEEEEEN!"

 

Axis, Edwin, and the King, too, appear to have snapped out of their trance, as their commentary washes over you, the viewer's, television screen.

 

"(Axis) Folks, welcome back to SJL Crimson live from the Lawn…"

"(King) This is paradise…"

"(Edwin) Gimme some soma, man…"

"(Axis) We're about to start our next match, and then the lesbians are coming back, so folks, lets hope for a squash!"

 

..:Ding Ding Ding:..

 

T-Bone and MVS immediately lock up, T-Bone obviously remembering the Van Slaminator that cost him his match against The Franchise. T-Bone overpowers Mikey to start, shoving him back into the corner. T-Bone lays some heavy hands to the head of Van Siclen, causing it to slump down into his chest, but T-Bone cups his arm under Mike's chin and unleashes the Chop of Holy Hell on Mike's chest!

 

WHOOOO!

 

Mike's head slumps again, but again T-Bone lifts it, and again a THWACK! Satisfying only to T-Bone's arena echoes in the open air.

 

WHOOOO!

 

"(Axis) Chops with FLAIR by T-Bone in the corner!"

"(Edwin) WHOOOOOOO!"

"(King) Jeez, Edwin, I've got a red robe with jewels on it in the Beamer. You want it?"

"(Edwin) Yeah!"

"(King) Too bad, cuz I don't have a Beamer!"

 

T-Bone grabs Mike by the arm and whips him with force to the other turnbuckle, following up looking for a knee to the gut, but Mike leapfrogs him, and as T-Bone turns around he's caught by a hard forearm to the face from Mike! T-Bone staggers back all of a foot into the corner, and Mike grabs him by the head with both hands, bringing his feet up into T-Bone's chest and falling backwards, powering the Boner into the air with his legs to complete a terrorizing Monkey Flip! The crowd pops for the move and Mike stands up, playing to them a bit only to get booed to no end. He lifts T-Bone to his feet, whipping him into the ropes and catching him on the way back with a brutal Powerslam! Cover!

 

"(Ref) ONE!

 

TWO!

 

T- NO!" Kickout like nobody's business by T-Bone.

 

"(Axis) Nice sequence in the corner culminates in a Monkey Flip for Mikey, followed by a Powerslam for a near-fall."

"(King) Why do they call it that? T-bone clearly /fell/, he simply kicked out of the pinfall."

"(Edwin) Because they do, nitwit. Shut up now and watch the match."

 

Van Siclen stands up, smiling broadly as he stomps T-Bone hard in the ribs a /bunch/-o'-times, dude. Mike goes over to the turnbuckle, climbing up and turning around on the top rope, yelling to the crowd "WHO'S AMAZIN'!" in an attempt to pump himself up. The crowd, naturally, boos, but Mike feeds off this energy, leaping off the ropes, legs spread apart, his right one looking to slice T-Bone's neck…

 

REJECTION! T-Bone rolls out of the way, quickly getting to his feet as Mike lands flat-ass on the mat. T-Bone picks up the hurting Van Siclen, whipping him into the ropes and catching him with an absolutely SINISTER big boot as Mike runs back!

 

"(Axis) Big Boot by T-Bone, and Mike was almost decapitated there!"

"(King) Decapitation… mmm, delectable."

"(Edwin) Decapitations are evil and sinister and bad and… you shouldn't do them."

 

T-Bone goes over to his corner, picking up his leather jacket and reaching into it for his bottle of A-1 Steak Sauce! Mike slowly gets to his feet as T-Bone chugs some, turning around to face Van Siclen and spitting the flavorful liquid into Mike's face! Mike quickly grabs his eyes, and T-Bone wastes no time, putting Mike into a suplex hold and lifting him vertically before dropping him down headfirst with a Brainbuster!

 

"(Axis) Brainbuster by T-Bone! It's over! It's over!"

"(Edwin) Chill, Axis, it's a brainbuster."

"(Axis) But The Superior One finishes people off with that move."

"(King) Yeah, but we're talking about T-Bone. Everyone kicks out of his moves."

 

Mike gets up, wobbly, and T-Bone wrap his arms around Mike for a big hug… no, actually, it's for an Overhead Belly-belly suplex. However, Mike doesn't see it that way, as he kicks T-Bone square in the nuts! T-Bone releases the hold, and Mike takes advantage, putting his head underneath T-Bone's chin and jumping, sitting out to hurt T-Bone's jaw! Mike quickly stomps T-Bone a couple of times before running over to the ropes, running up them like a staircase and Moonsaulting off, landing stomach-first across T-Bone! Mike stands up quickly, playing to the crowd as T-Bone struggles to his feet!

 

"(Axis) Mike plays dirty there, escaping the Belly-to-Belly with a low blow, then catching T-Bone with a Sitout Jawbreaker, followed by a Moonsault!"

"(King) A DANGEROUS Moonsault, no less!"

"(Edwin) Who said it was dangerous?"

"(King) I did."

 

T-Bone slowly staggers to his feet, and as he does Mike grabs him in a DDT hold, raising one arm as the crowd boos, expecting a Code Red! No luck tonight, kids, as Mike slides underneath T-Bone's bent body, bringing his neck with him in a modified Swinging Neckbreaker! The crowd pops for the move but then boos, just because, y'know, Mike sucks.

 

"(Axis) RUSSIAN ROULETTE! RUSSIAN ROULETTE BY MIKE VAN SICLEN!"

"(Edwin) Calm down, Axis. Mike's not gonna score a pinfall with that move."

"(King) Haven't we been over this? It's not a pin-/fall/, it's a pin-/lay/."

 

Cover nonetheless!

 

"(Ref) ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THR-NO!' Kickout by T-Bone, which gets Mike visibly angry. He slides to the outside, throwing up the ring apron and extracting many items, which he throws into the ring as they come out. Garbage can. Stop sign. Chair. Another chair. Sledgehammer. And one last chair (T-Bone catches this one as it's thrown into the ring). Mike slides back in, standing up only to get WRECKED IN THE HEAD by a vicious chairshot from T-Bone! The crowd roars as Mike drops like a ton of bricks, and T-Bone, feeling his work is done, casually tosses the chair away and makes the cover on Mike. No leg hook here - this one's wrapped up with a bow.

 

"(Ref) ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THRE- NO!" Kickout by Van Siclen, and a stunned T-Bone stands up, picking Van Siclen up in preparation for the next sequence.

 

"(Axis) A VICIOUS chairshot by T-Bone on Van Siclen, but somehow Van Siclen kicks out!"

"(King) It was T-Bone's tactical error in not hooking the leg that caused Mike to drop, and the tactical error that will probably wind up in T-Bone losing the match!"

"(Edwin) …doubt it."

 

T-Bone tries to whip Van Siclen into the ropes… but Mike won't budge! T-Bone tries it again… and against Mike doesn't move! T-Bone tries it one more time, but instead of mike running into the ropes, he takes T-Bone's arm and wraps it around his neck, making the two back-to-back as Mike sits out to complete the Blackjack Neckbreaker! Mike quickly makes the cover.

 

"(Ref) ONE!

 

TWO!

 

TH-NO!" No fall by Van Siclen, and he stands up, grabbing the stop sign lying nearby in the ring and readying it as T-Bone slowly gets to his feet.

 

"(Axis) Mike scores with the Blackjack Neckbreaker for a near-fall, and now he's got the stop sign ready!"

"(King) Mike's gonna hit a home run! GO BARRY!"

"(Edwin) If we called him Hairy he could be Albert!"

 

All three of the announcers bust up laughing, Harvey Korman style, as T-Bone slowly gets up, wobbling a bit as Mike aims a sign-shot straight at the Boner's head… but T-Bone ducks! Mike's momentum causes him to spin all the way around, and he ends up with the stop sign right in front of his face… a position that T-Bone takes advantage of by leveling a HUGE superkick at the Amazin' one's face! The dent in the stop sign can be clearly seen as Mike falls backwards, doing the slow TIMBER fall. T-Bone, nonchalant as ever, makes the cover.

 

"(Ref) ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THRE-NO!" Kickout by Van Siclen!

 

"(Axis) I don't know HOW Mike managed to kick out after having the stop sign superkicked into his face!"

"(King) Talent, luck, and a shitload of Kingade."

"(Edwin) Kingade?"

"(King) Yep. By some today."

 

T-Bone grabs Van Siclen by the hair, lifting him to his feet and then doing a go-behind, locking Mike in the hold for a German suplex… but is met with a stiff kick to the nads! T-bone releases the hold, choosing to favor his wee-wee, but Mike simply ignores T-Bone's hands and levels a true, trademark, Brandi Chastain kick…

 

CHING! T-Bone may or may not be able to have kids after that shot. He falls to his knees, then forward onto his face, as Mike stands above him, smiling an incredibly goofy-looking smile.

 

"(Axis) I think, in a rugged way, Mike enjoyed that."

"(King) I think you enjoyed watching T-Bone grab his nuts."

"(Edwin) Really, Axis, we all know you enjoy fondling other male's fine phallic forms."

 

Mike, sensing his opponent's weak spot, grabs T-Bone by the legs, turning him over onto his back and lifting his legs up, splitting them apart and jumping into the air, bringing both legs across T-Bone's little bone and double-leg Wishboning him! T-Bone rolls over onto his stomach again, but, no, our journey into maleness is not complete, as Mike grabs T-Bone by the legs again and again rolls him onto his back. Mike lay on his back too, putting his foot between T-Bone's legs and pulling on them to complete the Rectal Stretch! T-Bone screams in pain at the move that could legitimately be called the nutcracker, as he frantically sits up, grabbing Mike's foot with his hands and trying to move it… but Mike refuses to move!

 

"(Edwin) Hey, Mike has his foot up T-Bone's ass!"

"(Axis) How clever…"

 

T-Bone again tries to move Mike's foot with his hands… but again Mike refuses to budge! T-Bone, deciding a little protection is better than none, slips his hand between Mike's boot and his nads, thinking this will relieve some of the pressure. Kids, you should know where this is headed, but if you don't, let's just say… CRACK! Mike's foot crushes both T-Bone's hand and his nuts this time, and the Boner frantically removes his hand and reaches for the ropes, which are oh-so-close, and yet oh-so-far, away… he raises up onto his hands and starts to crabwalk towards the ropes… so close… so close… bah, Mike decides "fuck it" and lets up on the hold, allowing T-Bone a good few moments of lonely time with the family jewels.

 

"(Axis) Well, hopefully that sequence is over, as I'm sure T-Bone won't be able to… uhm… ejaculate for a good week or two."

"(King) Or nine."

 

Edwin and King burst into childlike laughter as Mike lifts T-Bone up, putting T-Bone into DDT position and raising one arm, the crowd erupting in boos at Mike's obvious showboating as the Amazin' one whirls around, grabbing T-Bone by his mushroom haircut and driving his face into the ground with a beautiful Code Red! Cover!

 

"(Ref) ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THRE- NO!" Kickout by T-Bone, and Mike gets up, slowly and in an extremely pissed off manner.

 

"(Axis) Mike does NOT look happy that all that work went for naught."

"(Edwin) Of course he doesn't. He worked over the nads because there's no-DQ… but he still couldn't get a pinfall. I'd be pissed too."

"(King) Thank you! For a heel, Mike sure gets screwed a lot."

"(Edwin) … no he doesn't."

 

Mike lifts T-Bone up, kicking him once in the stomach and going behind him, catching him with a German suplex! T-Bone's head bounces off the mat, and he winds up on his back. Mike sees this as the perfect opportunity, grabbing T-Bone by the legs and lifting them way up, planting his knee into T-Bone's back and his foot on the Boner's neck to complete the Liontamer! T-Bone's head, crushed by Mike's foot, is a mask of pain, but he refuses to tap! He uses his hands to try and pull himself closer… closer… closer to the ropes. He reaches out for it… his fingertips graze the bottom rope, but that's all, as he can't manage to grab onto the bottom rope!

 

"(Axis) LIONTAMER ON T-BONE! T-BONE CAN'T REACH THE ROPE! WILL T-BONE TAP!?!"

"(King) Jeez, Axis, all about T-Bone. What about MVS? He's the one with the submission locked in."

"(Axis) Stop being so critical…"

"(Edwin, mocking Axis in a high, girlish voice) Stop being so critical…"

 

T-Bone inches ever closer, and finally, his hand clasps around the red rope! Mike doesn't care, though, because, as the ref is quick to remind T-Bone, this match is no-DQ! T-Bone, distraught, searches with his hands for something to turn the tide. Luckily, since he is near the ropes, he's near the apron, and he pulls it up by hand. Reaching underneath, his hands finger cold steel… the cold steel of a chair, which T-Bone brings into the ring. Using all the strength he can muster, he uses his left hand, with the chair in it, to hack at Mike's leg! Mike, irritated by the chops, kicks out at T-Bone's hand, which allows the football player to move his head! Unfortunately, this doesn't do him much good, but what does is his hand catching Mike's foot and flipping him onto his side! T-Bone eagerly stands up, lifting Mike to his feet angrily in preparation for the next move!

 

"(Axis) T-Bone uses his intellect to escape the Liontamer, and he's ACHING for revenge on Van Siclen!"

"(Edwin) I would be, too, if the bastard tried to kill me with his foot!"

"(King) Bastard. Such a fall-from-grace term from you, Edwin."

 

T-Bone lifts Mike to his feet, lifting him up into Backdrop position. Not wanting the backdrop, however, T-Bone grabs Mike around the neck and sits out with a Diamond Cutter variant! Mike falls onto the mat, but T-Bone picks him up, his violent thirst being quenched. T-Bone puts Mike's head between his legs, lifting him up into Piledriver position, putting his hand between Mike's legs and sitting out to make it a devastating Cradle Piledriver!

 

"(Axis) A-1 SPECIAL AND A CRADLE PILEDRIVER ON MIKE VAN SICLEN! The end is near! I can taste it!"

"(King) I can taste it too, and it doesn't taste like steak.

"(Edwin) Yes it does."

 

T-Bone raises one arm into the air, the universal signal for a chokeslam! Mike slowly makes his way over to the ropes, using them to lift his body up, which he finally manages to do. Barely able to stand, he turns around… right into T-Bone's choking grip! The former football player lifts Van Siclen up, before slamming him into the ground, sitting out himself to complete the Miracle Ecstasy Bomb! The crowd roars at the powerful move, and T-Bone bridges!

 

"(Ref) ONE!

 

TWO!" This should be all, T-Bone thinks, but as the ref's arm raises for a third time T-Bone catches Fugue running out through the crowd in the corner of his eye! T-Bone breaks off the pinfall, standing up to meet Fugue one-on-one, but the sWo member holds up in the middle of the aisle. Smiling, he calmly backs off. Meanwhile, mike Van Siclen is slowly getting to his feet, and, seeing T-Bone with his back to him, knows what must be done.

 

"(Axis) MIRACLE ECSTASY BOMB by T-Bone, but Fugue's interference caused the Bone warrior to break off the pinfall. And now, he's turned his back on Van Siclen…"

"(King) Muahahaha. This is good. Verrrrrry good."

"(Edwin) Not for T-Bone. TURN AROUND YOU NINNY!"

 

Unfortunately, T-Bone doesn't turn around, and Mike Van Siclen stands directly behind him. Before T-Bone knows what's hit him, Mike locks in a standing crossface! Yelling at the crowd to fire himself up, he sits down hard and violently brings T-Bone's head with him, slamming the back of the football player's head into the mat with a vicious Crossface Halo! Mike grabs one of T-Bone's legs, pulling it close to him as the ref counts the pinfall!

 

"(Ref) ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!" The ref gets up and signals for the bell as Fugue slides into the ring.

 

..:Ding Ding Ding:..

 

"(Funyon) Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of this match, via pinfall, MIKE VAN SICLEN!"

 

"Natural High" kicks up, but Mike brings his hand across his throat, signaling for the music man to cut the music. He asks Funyon for his microphone, and receives it, raising it to his lips and beginning to speak.

 

"(Mike) T-Bone…" Mike tries to catch his breath… "T-Bone, did you think by challenging me… because I attacked you… made you a big shot? Guess what… you're not. You, my friend… are just a victim… of the New Sound… can you hear it? No? Well, we'll see if we can Q-Tip your ass."

 

Mike drops the mic, picking T-Bone up and whipping him into the ropes, catching his legs as he comes back and lifting him in position for a back body drop… but he holds onto T-Bone's legs and sits out, driving the Boner's head into the mat with a brutal Van Slaminator!

 

"(Axis) VAN SLAMINATOR! VAN SLAMINATOR!"

 

Mike picks up the mic again.

 

"(Mike) Can you hear me now? Good… but maybe… just maybe… we should up the volume again…"

 

Mike nods to Fugue, who by now has ascended the turnbuckle. The musical madman leaps off, spinning 450* in the air and coming down hard, his chest across T-Bone's with a beautiful Grand Finale (450* Splash)! Mike raises the mic to his lips one last time and speaks once more.

 

"(Mike) We're finished with you T-Bone…"

 

"What do you mean we're finished with him?" The crowd looks to the entrance ramp, where "The Franchise" Mak Francis stands, walking slowly down the entrance ramp. "We're not finished with him…" Mak slides into the ring, looking Mike in the eyes. "I'd tell you if we were finished with him when we were finished with him." Fugue, in the background, is slowly picking up T-Bone. "Mike, you've got a lot to learn. Nothing in the New Sound is finished…"

 

In a flash, Mak grabs T-Bone in position for a Fisherman's Suplex! The Franchise lifts T-Bone vertically, then drives T-Bone's head into the mat to finish the Franchise Tag! Mak stands up, smiling, and picks up the mic again.

 

"Until it's been tagged by the Franchise. Now… now we're finished with him. Cue the music."

 

"Ashes in the Fall" by Rage Against the Machine begins to blare throughout the arena as the collective New Sound exits the ring, walking up the hill and into the back.

 

"(Axis) Well, the New Sound lays a beatdown on T-Bone… that was heinous. Absolutely heinous… I can't even comment. Cut to commercial…"

 

…fade…

[Guest crusen86]

At the concession stands at the makeshift arena on The Lawn, there are not many fans buying treats. They are anxiously awaiting the next match, which is going to start shortly. A few fans are walking backstage, mothers with children who need restroom breaks and the usual ticket scalpers for the next live event. But now approaching the candy counter is a very large and very out of place man. His purchase of a tasty snack is cut short by Ben Hardy, who seemingly sticks his nose into everything. Ben runs up to Thor, very out of breath, and tries to catch his breath. He speaks, still winded “Thor, we wanted... to know your thoughts... on tonight’s match...” He raises the mic to Thor’s head as he slowly turns around. He speaks, quietly at first, not his usual intense self.

 

“Mortal, stand aside and thou shalt hear mine thoughts. Last week, I was handed the quite arduous task of facing “The Rising Sun” Y2K in a Hide and Seek match in the home of Ash Ketchum. I approached the match quite differently than any other. Twas not the dangerous element of doing battle in Ash Ketchum’s house, nor e’en the danger that I might lose mine coveted TV title. No, twas not these things. Twas the fact that I was facing a member of the sWo, and twas that reason that I should be weary. For anyone who holds rank in the sWo must certainly be a dangerous and calloused individual indeed. The name of the sWo should make any competitor stay shy of them, for their reputation precedes them.

 

Their reputation as being, trouble makers, upstarts, and cowards is one that will certainly live on throughout the ages. These four men art a plague upon this company, and ’tis their goal to completely dominate the federation by any means necessary. And aye, they do use any means. Attacking wrestlers, interfering in matches, most dishonorable tactics indeed. And on Wrath, they grow their numbers by two. They obtain Mike Van Siclen and mine opponent for tonight, the maniacal Fugue. Fugue shall be playing a dirge after he matches wits with the God of Thunder. So tonight, this shall not be an ordinary match. Nay, this match will be for the right to face T-Bone, for his European championship. But e’en more importantly, this match is to show that the sWo shall progress no further. This match wilt show that someone hast put his foot down and planted it firmly to say ‘Nay, the sWo wilt no longer cheat or steal to dominate the SJL.’ Tonight the God of Thunder takes a stand against evil. Tonight the sWo... shall be defeated and cast aside... like ashes in the fall. So says Thor!”

 

With that statement Thor goes about his business in buying something from the concession stand. Ben Hardy, feeling a bit unfulfilled inquires further of the Thunder God. “Excuse me Thor. Just one last thing, what did you buy from the candy stand?”

 

Thor once again turns around and looks directly into the camera, smiles and says

 

“Juji Fruits.”

 

Thor walks off, eating several of the gummy candies as the camera fades out.

[Guest crusen86]

Never before have so many people been allowed on the Lawn before. The camera pans slowly around the 100,000 screaming fans lucky enough to be in attendance for this historic edition SJL Crimson before returning to the ring. A shower of red pyro explodes from the four ring posts, covering the audience in sparkling red confetti, before the camera cuts to the announce table.

 

“Welcome back to SJL Crimson, ladies and gentlemen!” bellows Axis as Edwin MacPhisto proceeds to brush the remaining confetti from his section of the announce table into the Suicide King’s lap. “We’ve certainly seen our fair share of action tonight, and there’s much more to come this evening! In our main event, sWo member Mak Francis will square off against his rival CIA in a cage match! Picking a winner is certainly beyond me at this point, but suffice it to say that our main event will be one hell of a matchup, no matter who wins it. What say you, Edwin?”

 

The crown prince of flash and panache looses a resounding yawn in response. “*I* say that you two retired slackers can handle the commentary this evening. In case you didn’t notice, I have the title defense from hell waiting on me tomorrow night, and a War Games match a week after that, and I didn’t get my bloody beauty sleep last night, so I’m just the slightest bit zonked this evening.”

 

The Suicide King scoffs loudly, as one would expect an arrogant, heel announcer to scoff. “Please, Edwin, spare us the sob story. I suppose that your reluctance to commentate this evening has absolutely nothing to with the next match?”

 

MacPhisto looks up bleary-eyed from the smiley face he’s busily constructing from the remaining confetti. “What are you babbling about now, King? I’ve no idea what the next match is, actually. It’s all gotten a bit fuzzy since Thugg threw that drunk women off the Lawn right before we went on the air.”

 

The Suicide King smiles an evil, evil, and otherwise not particularly friendly smile as Front Line Assembly’s “Retribution (Front 242 Remix)” hits the speakers. White fog begins to billow out from the entrance curtain as the commissioner’s eyes grow ever so slightly wider.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, introducing first…hailing from Phoenix, Arizona, and weighing in at two hundred and forty-eight pounds…he is a representative of the Clan…” The crowd seated on the Lawn immediately begins to boo as the Port-A-Tron flickers to life, rapidly showing clips of a certain Clansman delivering a variety of Demonstar Drivers…

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIILENT!”

 

The word “Retribution” flashes oh so briefly on the Port-A-Tron as Silent enters through the curtains, cane in hand, trenchcoat trailing ominously behind him.

 

“Why, Edwin, that friend of yours has come out to play!”

 

”Oh, bugger, King. I’m too tired to listen to you tonight. I really am.”

 

“Really? Well, if you don’t want to be regaled by my witty anecdotes, I could always invite your buddy Silent over to the announce table to do my commentary for me.”

 

Edwin MacPhisto suddenly looks up, staring daggers at the Suicide King as Silent slides deftly into the ring. King blinks rapidly, apparently not liking what he sees…

 

“Brian, do that, and I will tear out your heart. Understand?”

 

The Suicide King, for once, swallows his considerable pride and turns away from the angered MacPhisto as “Retribution” fades into the background noise of the Lawn. “Sheesh, some people can’t take a joke very well, can they, Axis?”

 

Axis looks down his nose at the King for a moment before turning back to face the camera. “You really did bring that on yourself, King. Jesus…excuse us, ladies and gentlemen. Silent is coming off a tough loss to Renegade in the semi-finals of the World title tournament on Wrath, and you can bet he’s not too happy about it. He’ll be looking to take out his frustrations on a returning Sydney Sky, and I have to say that things don’t look too good for the JL’s resident Riot Grrl.”

 

“Now that, I’ll have to agree with,” sighs Edwin. “Sydney Sky is one of the most impressive prospects to come through the SJL in recent memory, but after such a long hiatus, you have to expect that there’s going to be a certain amount of ring rust. Now, usually I think Sydney has the ability to compensate for such a thing, but when you’re in the ring with someone as methodical and exploitive as the Silent One…well, as you said, Axis, it doesn’t look too good for the Riot Grrl.”

 

“For once, we’re in agreement, MacPhisto. I’m proud of you.”

 

”Don’t push it, King.”

 

”…fair enough.”

 

Fortunately for the Suicide King, The Verve’s “Bittersweet Symphony” hits the speakers, and the sound of more pride being swallowed is lost in the uproar of the crowd as Sydney Sky appears from behind the curtains. A serene look on her face, she raises her arms in appreciation for the warm reception, and the audience rises to their feet, giving the returning Riot Grrl a standing ovation.

 

”Listen to that crowd, Axis! They missed Sydney more than I did!”

 

”I wouldn’t have thought it possible, Edwin, but it sounds like you’re right.”

 

Purple, blue, and white pyrotechnics explode from the four ring posts as the Riot Grrl enters the ring. “Bittersweet Symphony” fades out as the audience returns to their Lawn chairs. Sky stretches herself a few times on the ropes and shoots a wink at the announcer’s table before she turns to face her opponent.

 

“Did you see that, gentlemen? She clearly winked at me.”

 

Axis and Edwin turn to King in unison, the same derisive look on their faces.

 

“Shut up, King.”

 

“Yes, Kingy. Do shut up.”

 

**DING DING**

 

“And this match is underway!”

 

”Goodbye, Sydney. It’s a pity you had to go this way. We could’ve gotten some dinner and a movie after the show.”

 

”King, I distinctly recall telling you to shut up. Wasn’t that you? Wasn’t that me? Didn’t I say, ‘Kingy, do shut up’? Yes, I did.”

 

”I hate you, Edwin MacPhisto.”

 

”I love you too, Kingy.”

 

”Don’t call me that.”

 

“Kingy.”

 

“Stop it.”

 

“Kingy.”

 

“…”

 

“Ah. Much better. Kingy.”

 

Sydney Sky moves cautiously into the center of the ring, waiting for the Silent One to do the same. But the Clansman stands resolute in the corner, a strange smile on his face. The crowd boos and jeers at him, trying to egg him into the center of the ring, but Silent simply turns his head to face the audience out on the Lawn…

 

…before doing the unthinkable.

 

“Oh my God, Edwin!” yells Axis over the collective gasp of the fans. “Oh my God! Tell me we did not just see that!”

 

”I’m afraid we did, my Australian friend. Silent respects nothing and no one, and this is his way of showing it. He…he…he just…God, I don’t even want to say it. It sounds so…so very wrong.”

 

”SWEET MOTHER OF GOD!” screams the Suicide King, nearly rupturing the eardrums of his fellow commentators with his second-rate Joey Styles impression. “Oh, precious, precious Lord! I can’t believe this…”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“THE SILENT ONE JUST SPAT ON THE LAWN!”

 

Seemingly satisfied by the crowd’s reaction to his handiwork, the Silent One approaches Sky in the center of the ring. “All I have to say, ladies and gentlemen, after witnessing this atrocity,” mumbles Axis, “is that I’m certainly glad the Thugg has already left for the night, or we might’ve seen some of the most ferocious no-selling the world has ever known.”

 

“Amen to that, Axis. Amen to that.”

 

The two wrestlers stand facing each other in the center of the ring. A chant of “RI-OT GRRL! RI-OT GRRL!” reverberates across the Lawn as the fans rally behind Sydney Sky. As though the chanting was a physical blow, the Silent One takes a careful step backwards…before lunging into a collar-and-elbow tie-up with Sydney.

 

“Not a good way for Sydney to start this match, Edwin. She’s certainly one of the strongest women I’ve ever seen in the ring, but she’s definitely no match for Silent in the brute strength department.”

 

“That’s quite true, Axis. Sydney needs to utilize her speed here-she has to outthink Silent in the ring. Not that that’s an easy thing to do, of course, but I think that-oh!” MacPhisto cuts himself off in mid-sentence as Silent, in a seemingly effortless, fluid motion, takes his opponent off her feet with a lightning-quick Arm Dragon Screw. “Beautiful takedown by the Clansman, and Sky looks to be in trouble here early in the match!”

 

Once again in unison, Axis and Edwin tell King to quiet down in no uncertain terms. Specifically, they tell him…

 

“Shut up, Kingy.”

 

”Axis! I thought we were friends! I thought we…”

 

”You heard the Aussie, Kingy. Shut up.”

 

“I hate the both of you so very much right now.”

 

”Fine. Hate us to your little heart’s content, if that’s what you feel like you’ve got to do. Just be quiet about it while we try and call this match.”

 

Sky grasps at her right shoulder, obviously in a bit of pain after Silent’s unexpected takedown. Sensing an advantage, the Silent One quickly puts Sydney’s right arm in a short arm scissors. She winces, but does not cry out, as Matthew Kivell checks for a submission. Not content with merely maintaining the hold, Silent reaches across his opponent with his right arm and attempts to push her other shoulder down to the mat.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

Sky thrusts her arm upwards with a noticeable bit of effort.

 

“Very smart move by Silent, making Sky expend that extra energy early in this match while she’s caught in that submission hold!”

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

Sydney kicks out again, a look of irritation on her face as Silent continues to prevent her from breaking the hold. “Well, it seems you’ve made a valid observation for once in your life, King. While Sydney’s trying to avoid getting pinned, she’s not concentrating on breaking out of that short arm scissors!”

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

With an audible grunt of effort, the Riot Grrl kicks out, swinging her legs up over her shoulders and just barely hooking the bottom rope with her left foot. The crowd applauds her display of flexibility and athleticism as Kivell informs Silent that he has to break the hold.

 

“Nice counter there by Sydney Sky,” notes Axis as Sky climbs to her feet, shaking out her right shoulder in an attempt to dull the pain.

 

“See, that’s what I was talking about a few minutes ago. Sky has to think on her feet and counter Silent’s submissions, take him out of his element and make him uncomfortable.”

 

“It’s a good idea, Edwin, but it’s easier said than done,” notes Axis as Silent and Sydney Sky approach each other once more. “Silent has shown himself to be one of the most adaptable wrestlers in the SJL in recent weeks. It’ll be interesting to see if Sydney Sky can come up with a counter to Silent’s notably versatile in-ring style.”

 

Silent, now confident of his strength advantage, lunges towards his smaller opponent once again, this time taking her down to the mat with a deep arm drag. As Sydney slams onto the canvas, Silent quickly drops to his stomach and applies a side headlock. Sky counters with a headscissors, and Silent kicks out of it…but the Riot Grrl hangs on as Silent stands up, and, with her legs still locked around his neck, she twists her entire body to the right, sending Silent to the mat this time with a headscissor rollover!

 

”Beautiful counter from Sydney!” exclaims Edwin, as the Silent One quickly rolls to his feet, still mildly disoriented. Seeing an opportunity, Sky closes the short distance between her and her opponent and absolutely SMOKES his knee with a sit-out front dropkick. The Clansman lets out a grunt of surprise and drops onto his good knee. Before he can recover, Sky is already bounding off the ropes, and she connects with a dropkick to the Silent One’s face just as he turns towards her. The sickening slap of her combat boots against Silent’s nose actually draws a noticeable pop from the crowd, still a little sore over Silent’s abuse of the much-beloved Lawn.

 

Silent hits the canvas with a thud as the JL’s resident Riot Grrl rises to her feet. Seeing her opponent prone on the mat, Sky bolts for the opposite side of the ring and springs sprite-like onto the second rope…

 

“Sydney Sky seems to be going for the Fallen Star moonsault here…”

 

”Wait a minute! Silent is up!”

 

Perhaps Edwin MacPhisto yells a little too loudly, for Sydney Sky turns her head ever so slightly and sees her opponent almost on his feet. Thinking fast, she grabs hold of the top rope and vaults over, landing gracefully on the apron to a burst of applause from the fans. As Silent stands, Sky pulls down the top rope as far as she can and leaps onto it, balancing briefly before launching herself across the ring and onto the shoulders of a surprised Silent! Before the Clansman can make a move to counter, Sky twists her body around and down, sending Silent rolling out of the ring with a picture-perfect springboard hurricanrana!

 

“I believe you were saying something about ‘ring rust’ earlier, Axis?” laughs MacPhisto.

 

“I stand corrected, of course, but Silent doesn’t seem to be laughing. No, he doesn’t look amused at all.”

 

“More like confused. See? Confused? Amused? That was funny, wasn’t it?”

 

Now it’s the Suicide King’s turn. “Edwin. Shut up.”

 

The Silent One stands, a little shaken by the trip to the floor, but his head is still clear enough to dodge Sydney Sky as she comes flying through the second and third ropes with a high-velocity suicide dive! The crunch of the Riot Grrl’s head against the steel guardrail draws a sympathetic gasp from the crowd as Silent continues to shake off the effects of Sydney’s earlier hurricanrana.

 

“Jesus, Edwin, did you hear that? Sydney could’ve sustained some sort of brain damage from that missed suicide dive!”

 

”Look at that atrocious purple outfit, Axis. Would we really notice the difference?”

 

”King, didn’t we tell you to shut up?”

 

”Buzz off, Axis. Call the match or something.”

 

Scattered chants of “HO-LY SHIT!” can be heard throughout the Lawn as Silent rolls his opponent back into the ring. Still clutching her head, Sky lies motionless on the canvas as the Silent One slides underneath the bottom rope. “Sydney looks really hurt, Axis. I don’t think this is the way she wanted to make her return to the ring…”

 

The Clansman ignores the cries of the audience, lifting Sydney Sky to her feet and whipping her across the ring. As the riot grrl comes bounding back towards Silent, the Clansman lunges forward, driving his outstretched arm into Sydney’s throat!

 

“Burning Lariat! There’s the cover!”

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THR…and Sky kicks out, a dazed look on her usually calm face. “Sydney Sky is really in a bad way here, gentlemen. She needs a big mistake by Silent at this point to buy her some time…can we get a replay of that botched dive, please?”

 

The Port-A-Tron obliges, showing Sydney’s dive in slow motion, as Silent pulls his opponent to her feet…and sends her crashing right back to the mat with a stiff right roundhouse. The fans on the Lawn boo resoundingly as Silent arrogantly covers Sky with a lateral press, not even bothering to hook her legs.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

”Sydney kicks out, but just barely! King, if the three of us have noticed that Sky’s neck is in a world of hurt, you have to believe that Silent has as well.”

 

”Indeed I do, Axis, and as you can see…ooo!” The Suicide King winces in sympathy as Silent drops Sky directly on her unprotected head with a Brainbuster DDT. “Silent is doing everything in his considerable power to capitalize on his advantage.”

 

Like a shark that smells blood in the water, the Silent One advances…and is met with an unexpected leg sweep! Silent topples to the ground and Sydney Sky vaults to her feet with a kip-up, wincing all the same despite the support from the crowd out on the Lawn. Driving her combat boots into the ribs of the Clansman, Sky gradually forces him back against the ropes. As the Clansman pulls himself to his feet with the ropes’ assistance, the riot grrl leaps, ignoring the pounding pain in her skull, and wraps her legs around Silent’s neck, looking for the Hurricane…

 

…and is sadly disappointed, as Silent simply sits out to counter it.

 

“Merciful God!” yells Axis, and the fans are in an uproar. “Silent just Ganso Bombed Sydney Sky on what could very well have been an injured neck. Jesus, get the paramedics out here, now!”

 

Funyon, obviously uncomfortable with the entire scene, is rather grateful for Kivell’s signal to ring the bell.

 

**DING DING**

 

”Ladies and gentlemen, this match has been declared a no-contest…”

 

Immediately, Silent turns on Matthew Kivell, who turns from the timekeeper’s table…right into a Burning Lariat! “Jesus, Silent, not the referee too!”

 

Yes, Axis, the referee too. The Silent One lifts a nearly unconscious Matthew Kivell from the mat, sets him up…

 

CRUNCH.

 

“Riot of the Blood! Riot of the Blood on Matthew Kivell! What in the hell has gotten into the Silent One?”

 

The rest of the referees are out to ringside now, along with the paramedics. Silent ignores the garbage being hurled at him from the Lawn, a twisted, satisfied smile on his face as the referees forcibly escort him from the ring. “Edwin…” a confused and frightened Axis turns to his announcing partner. “Edwin…in all your years in the squared circle, have you ever seen such…such a needless display of brutality? Have you ever seen anything like this?”

 

The eyes of Edwin MacPhisto are distant, unresponsive…and suddenly, they seem very, very cold.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“No, Axis. Nothing like this.”

 

“Nothing at all.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We break for a commercial.

[Guest crusen86]

Axis: Alright, ladies and gentlemen, our next match is to determine the number one contender for the European championship, now held by the steak sauce covered bastard T-Bone. We have the God of Thunder Thor taking on the newest... or rather second newest... or... bah, a recent addition to the sWo Fugue!

 

King: What’s wrong Axis? Can’t even make it through your monologue with out screwing up? You are getting more pathetic with each show. Why don’t you go lock yourself in a closet already!

 

Edwin: T-Bone took a hard loss to “The Franchise” Mak Francis on Wrath, so I’m sure that both of these men will want to take advantage of the predicament that he is in. Nobody seems to be able to defeat Mak Francis in a one on one bout. But he will face his toughest challenge to date when he faces CIA in a cage match tonight!

 

Axis is whimpering to himself.

 

Funyon, already in the ring, slowly raises the mic to his lips as several mild catcalls are heard. He smirks and then speaks, in his overbearing, booming announcer voice “Ladies and gentlemen, this bout is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, he represents the sWo tonight, weighing in at one hundred and eighty one pounds... FUUUGUUUUEEE!!”

 

With that statement, the sinister strains of Bach’s “Toccata and Fugue in D minor” begin to play, striking fear into the very souls of the SJL faithful in attendance on The Lawn. The fans recognize the music and begin to boo and hiss with disrespect and disgust as the music hits an accelerando and white strobe lights flash, illuminating the stage. The music gradually shifts from a classical sound to a sped up interpretation infused with a heavy metal sound. It is at this point that the mad musician himself steps through the curtain and the fans ensue with a torrent of boos, more so than usual after joining the evil faction, the sWo.

 

The recent addition to the single stable in the SJL is evident by Fugue’s T-shirt, that rather than stating a clever statement or musical symbol, has the simple letters s... W... o. Fugue slinks down the ramp, his ever-present grin seems a bit wider as he gives a passing glance over every person in the crowd, chilling them to the bone. The cold fear of the fans is in stark contradiction to the heat that they release, spewing down upon the symphonic warrior. He slides under the bottom rope and stands up quickly, his head bowed down. Suddenly he snaps his head upright and his grin penetrates the hearts of the fans, whose boos would feel like a weight on the back of any normal man, but Fugue doesn’t seem to hear them at all... he just smiles.

 

Funyon speaks again, in a loud steady voice “And next, he weighs in at a staggering three hundred and forty five pounds... THOOOOOORRR!!”

 

As Funyon’s voice rings clear over the lawn, a blue spotlight shines on the entrance ramp, as the first rocking chords of KISS “God of Thunder” are heard. The fans recognize the slightly askew entrance right away and start to cheer, but their applause is cut short by a lightning bolt crashing into the stage. The fans think nothing of it as they await the wrestlers entrance, but off to the side, lurking in the shadows, the pyro technicians are shaking their heads in disbelief. There aren’t any ceiling pyro effects scheduled for the ceilingless arena of The Lawn.

 

Smoke fills the entrance as the music starts to drive. The searing guitar riffs increase the fans level of excitement and they cheer gradually louder. When the lyrics start to rock the speakers, blue and white pyros shoot off, crossing each other with a huge explosion and the God of Thunder himself steps through the curtain. The fans rejoice at the sight of Thor as he marches swiftly down the ramp, his cape flowing behind him. He steps up onto the ring apron and glares at the newfound member of his most hated adversaries, the sWo. He steps over the top rope and remains solid, unmoved by Fugue’s unchanging grin. Thor removes his cape and hands it and his hammer to the referee who in turn hands them to someone at ringside.

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

Axis: Well this match is underway and it is guaranteed to be a barn burner. These two men have faced each other before but this time its a whole different story. There is more on the line than just the number one contendership for the European title.

 

King: This new addition to the sWo is going to show that they are the dominant faction in the SJL.

 

Edwin: What are you talking about? The sWo is the only solid faction in the SJL.

 

King: Well that would make them dominant wouldn’t it?

 

Edwin: Not in the... umm... wait... your right.

 

The two warriors approach each other, cautiously, and stand no more than six inches away. Thor looks down at his smiling opponent, who just looks back up at him, seemingly oblivious to the world. He proves however that this is not the case as he reaches up and slaps Thor’s bearded face. The crowd recoils at the shot, but Thor just continues to look down upon his opponent. Fugue slaps him again, Thor remains as solid as a mountain. Fugue, befuddled by the ineffectiveness of his attack, bizarrely asks for Thor’s best shot. The Scion of Asgard simply shrugs his shoulders and complies with his opponent’s wishes and slaps Fugue across his face.

 

Fugue falls to the mat while the crowd cheers but Fugue stands back up, pulling himself up by the ropes, still grinning but holding his jaw. He walks back up to Thor and feeds him for another slap, while the puzzled Thunder God looks at his waiting opposition with a most curious expression. Thor is happy to oblige and slaps Fugue again, this time Fugue falls backwards, but rolls backwards upon impact with the mat to a standing position and quickly charges at Thor with a running dropkick, catching Thor in the knees and knocking him into the ropes. Thor bounces off the ropes and annihilates the oncoming Fugue with a brutal clothesline, taking him to the canvas.

 

Axis: Fugue takes Thor’s best shot... and asks for another one! This guys isn’t right.

 

King: Of course he isn’t. That’s why he is an intricate gear in the sWo machine.

 

Edwin: Oh Fugue is one tough cookie, no doubt. But I don’t think that we have seen Thor’s “best” shot so early in the match up.

 

Fugue sits up quickly and executes a drop toe hold on an unsuspecting Thor, taking him to the mat. Fugue seizes his window of opportunity and quickly locks on the Minor Chord. Thor’s face is wrenching with anguish as Fugue has his maniacal hold locked firmly in place. The referee is asking Thor if he wants to tap out, but Thor shakes his head no. The fans start to take the cue from several die hard Thor fans near the front row, all clad in blue and red, who hold their hands above their head and clap in rhythm. The whole arena is now clapping in unison like a well oiled machine and the rhythmic clapping seems to invigorate Thor as he gets a determined look on his face and starts to struggle beneath Fugue. He struggles and strains and finally he heaves Fugue off of him with one great motion.

 

Thor stands and is primed for action as he stands shaking, waiting for Fugue. Fugue stands and Thor charges at him with a big boot, but Fugue ducks under and goes to grab Thor’s leg out from beneath him but Thor sees that and brings his boot back down, hard right in the spinal column of the music man. Fugue falls to the mat, convulsing slightly from the shot to his nerve center. Thor lifts Fugue to his feet and wraps his arms around Fugue, and then elevating him up high with a bearhug. Thor’s face is ridden with struggle as he squeezes away at the small man in his arms. He squeezes the life out of his opponent as the referee lifts up Fugues arm... it drops. He lifts it up a second time... it falls lifeless. The ref lifts it a third and final time, but Fugue springs to life and starts to headbutt Thor in his face. After several brutal shots, Thor releases and stumbles backwards. Fugue takes advantage and hits a hurrincanrana, spinning Thor to the mat. Fugue goes for the cover, but before the referee can count, Thor powers him off.

 

Axis: Way too early for a cover. Fugue’s been wrestling long enough, he ought to know that.

 

Edwin: I don’t think that this kid remembers much of what was taught to him in wrestling school. He seems to be constantly distracted by something.

 

King: Hey Edwin look! Shiny thing!

 

Edwin: OOOH!! *Edwin looks off into the crowd, mesmerized by someone’s watch glinting in the sunlight*

 

Both Thor and Fugue stand and Fugue runs at Thor. Thor leans over, preparing to backdrop him, but Fugue instead does a roll over his back and lands standing on the other side of him. Thor turns around but just in time for Fugue to catch him with a dropkick. Thor stumbles backwards into the ropes but bounds back and runs at Fugue. Fugue goes for a back body drop, but when he attempts to lift Thor up, he finds that he cannot do it. Thor grows a smile and grabs Fugue around his waist and flips him up to a sitting position on his shoulders. The behemoth forces Fugue to the canvas with a powerbomb and the crowd roars their unanimous approval. Thor turns to the crowd and stands with one arm raised, showing the crowd his appreciation. Thor turns back to the body of Fugue and sees him getting to his knees. Thor helps him up and then quickly whips him into the corner.

 

Fugues back smashes into the corner hard and Thor comes charging after him like a freight train, squashing him in the corner. Thor then brings one of his massive arms back and then draws it across Fugue’s chest with a loud crack. The crowd responds with their customary “WHOOO!!”. Thor cracks Fugue’s chest again, and again the crowd goes “WHOOO!!”. Thor brings his arm back again, but somehow Fugue stops Thor’s hand responds with a knee to the gut. Fugue delivers another knee to Thor’s midsection and then hits a drop toe hold on the Thunder God to bring him down, his face smashing into the second turnbuckle and snapping his neck back. Fugue steps back and holds his arms outstretched, proud of his advanced ring psychology, but the fans care not for this. They respond with a hail of boos, causing any normal antagonist to wither in defeat, Fugue simply absorbs the torrent of heat, the boos are like music to his ears.

 

Edwin: These fans are not partial at all to the mad musician Fugue. Or any of the sWo members for that matter. The fans hate them with a passion, just like they hate you King.

 

Axis: The sWo, the most hated of the hated in the SJL. Bonded together by a common purpose and hatred for the fans. Single they can be defeated, united... they are a little more difficult. They have a kind of group psychology, a universal mind when they are together, like they are all on the same twisted wavelength.

 

King: That’s exactly right, strength in numbers I always say. Wilson is a genius when it comes to picking talent. I love that guy!

 

With that said, Fugue’s grin remains as he turns around, but is caught by a stiff European uppercut from Thor. Fugue flies backwards and catches himself on the ropes and Thor responds by charging at him and clotheslining him over the top rope to the floor. The crowd roars their approval as Thor also steps through the ropes and goes to the outside. The referee starts his count out as Thor takes advantage of his situation and whips Fugue into the steel steps, but Fugue reverses the momentum and sends Thor flying into the steps. He crashes into them, flat backed. Possibly minimizing the damage he could have absorbed, but that is of little comfort to the God of Thunder as his face twists in pain. Fugue gets back into the ring and soon at the referee’s count of eight, Thor rolls into the ring.

 

Fugue, helps Thor to his feet and whips him into the ropes. A dazed Thunder God complies and gets planted by Fugue with a spinning shoulder tackle, taking Thor down. Fugue stands back up and hits a standing moonsault onto Thor, staying in that position for the cover.

 

1

.

.

2

 

Thor kicks out firmly and Fugue, perhaps a tad frustrated, locks on a Fujiwara armbar. He wrenches the hold but it isn’t enough. Fugue cant get the hold completely locked in and Thor wriggles free. Thor stands and punches Fugue in the chest, he stumbles back, holding his chest and Thor lifts him high above his head in a Gorilla Press. He presses the lightweight once... twice... three times and then Thor promptly drops him, face first on the mat.

 

Axis: Big Gorilla Press slam by Thor. If you look at these guys stats it is a wonder that they are facing each other. Thor has a foot and an inch and one hundred and sixty four pounds on Fugue.

 

Edwin: Don’t count Fugue out so easily my chubby buddy. Fugue is a maniac and probably doesn’t realize that Thor is any bigger than himself. Insanity definitely raises your odds in a wrestling match.

 

King takes a sip of his coffee and immediately gags: Uuugghh, this coffee is awful! It tastes like it was dripped through Edwin’s dirty socks!

 

Axis whispers to Edwin: I told you he’d catch on to that.

 

Fugue sits up quickly and his face still bears a smile, Thor looks at his smile and gets a befuddled look on his countenance. His ever smiling opponent stands and raises his hands above his head, his fingers outstretched, inviting Thor to a test of strength. Thor seems puzzled still as to why the little man would ask for such a challenge, but never one to back down, Thor accepts and locks fingers with the challenger much to the delight of the crowd. Fugue struggles and strains, his fingers turning purple, and then white as he squeezes away. Trying to bring the big man to his knees.

 

Thor on the other hand bears barely even an expression as Fugue goes through a series of facial contortions expressing his struggle. Fugue looks up at Thor and realizes he is in trouble as Thor smirks and squeezes his fingers and Fugue lets out an uncharacteristic squeal of pain as Thor’s face grows more and more intense. Fugue finally falls to his knees and the fans cheer at his defeat as Thor releases the hold and stands with his arm up for the fans. Fugue is on his knees, holding his hands in pain as he stands up and gets planted with a backbreaker by Thor.

 

Edwin: Fugue got clearly outmatched by Thor in the test of strength.

 

Axis: Oh yes, your not gonna beat him there. Thor may very well be the biggest and strongest man in the SJL.

 

King: Wow big accomplishment being the strongest man in the JL. The guys in the WF would eat him alive.

 

Thor crouches down and waits for Fugue to stand, which he does... slowly. As Fugue stands, he turns around and plays perfectly into Thor’s plan. Thor catches his adversary with his baseball mitt of a hand wrapped around his neck. Thor then lifts Fugue up effortlessly with only one arm, but Fugue kicks Thor in the gut and causes him to drop him. Fugue then bounces off the ropes and goes for a standard clothesline on Thor. Fugue charges full force at Thor, but Thor is completely unaffected. Fugue bounces off the ropes again but Thor catches him again with the chokeslam, and this time brings him hard to the canvas. The crowd cheers and there is a growing chant of “GOD OF THUNDER!!”. Thor goes for the cover.

 

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Fugue gets the shoulder up. Thor stands up straight up and allows his opponent to rise as well. When both opponents are on their feet, Thor charges at Fugue, but gets a sweeping leg kick for his efforts. Thor is now lying on the canvas and Fugue moves quickly to the turnbuckle and climbs them. He stands on top with his arms out and the crowd boos him heavily. He stares at each sides of the crowd, but in his preoccupation with the crowd, Thor gets up and stumbles into the ropes, causing Fugue to lose his footing and consequently sing soprano for a while.

 

Axis: Ouch, Fugue got crotched on the top turnbuckle and Thor to reap the benefits.

 

King: That’s not right! He should be disqualified!

 

Edwin: For stumbling blindly into the ropes?

 

King: YES!!

 

The Suicide King tries to explain his philosophy to the other announcers while the action ensues in the ring. Fugue falls off the turnbuckle and into an odd resting position sitting on the mat, his arms resting on the bottom ropes. The crowd senses something big as Thor stops and turns around to spot his prey. He goes to the opposite turnbuckle and then suddenly dashes forward and slides in what would have been a dropkick. Except Fugue saw the huge blue and red Mack truck coming at him and jumped out of the way. So when Thor slid, he didn’t stop until he crotched himself on the ring post. The male portion of the crowd winces at this site and afterwards boos at the despicable character standing mid ring. Fugue flips his head back and lets the crowd see his full, grinning face.

 

Out of the wave of heat being projected towards the ring, Fugue goes to Thor’s body and attempts to drag him backwards. Thor has other plans however as he grabs Fugue by the hair and flips him over. Thor begins to pummel the face of Fugue with rights and lefts, until he is little more than a rag doll. Thor then lays him on his stomach and sits on his back. The crowd starts to cheer as Thor places his feet in front of Fugue’s arms and then wraps his hands under his chin. Thor locks in the camel clutch and pulls his arms back, wrenching the hold on Fugue. Fugue is yelling in torment and the referee asks him if he wants to tap out. The crowd is cheering at the top of their lungs now and Fugue points behind him and the referee looks, and Fugue has his foot on the rope. The referee then orders Thor to release the hold and gives him the customary count of four. Thor then releases the hold and leaves Fugue lying on the mat holding his neck.

 

Axis: Vicious camel clutch applied by Thor. We don’t see much technical wrestling from such a big man, but Thor shows us that he knows a move or two.

 

King: Hey, it looks like we’re getting a fax. What’s it say Edwin?

 

Edwin reading the fax: No more fax jokes.

 

King: Suits me! *King punches through the fax machine with one swift stroke*

 

Thor backs off and Fugue gets to his feet. He stands a little more dazed than usual and turns around, only to catch a swift superkick to the jaw, courtesy of Thor. Fugue falls backwards and Thor seizes his opening and drops a devastating leg on Fugue, crushing his sternum. Thor goes for the cover.

 

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Fugue just barely gets the shoulder up. Thor sits back on his knees and moves the deep red hair out of his eyes, wondering what it will take to put Fugue down. After a moment or two he stands back up and waits for Fugue to do the same. The music man charges at Thor and kicks him in the knee, causing the three hundred and fifty pounder to fall to the mat. Fugue quickly the monster and locks on a crucifix kneebar, further hurting Thor’s knee. Thor struggles and strains and he slowly inches himself to the ropes. Finally after excruciating effort, he grasps the bottom rope and the fans yell with glee.

 

The referee orders Fugue to release the hold after his count of four, but Fugue refuses. The referee says something else to the sadist and Fugue stands straight up, looking at the ceiling. He begins to gently sway back and forth, a twinkle in his eye. The fans are dumbfounded at Fugue, some laugh but others just stare in puzzlement. Thor however is not laughing. He stands up, favoring his hurt knee and turns the mystified Fugue around and wraps his hands around his neck. Thor lifts him up and then promptly brings him back to Midgard with a crushing Divine Hammer. Thor gets up from his sitting position and raises his hand up slowly, pointing at the turnbuckle. The crowd pops as Thor walks over to the corner and starts to climb. When he reaches the top, standing wobbly, he sees Fugue running towards the corner. Thor senses the danger and leaps off, knocking Fugue backwards several feet with a dropkick. The crowd cheers like mad, seeing Thor pull off such a spectacular move.

 

Axis: Thor delivers a huge dropkick from the top turnbuckle. Keep in mind the winner of this match will get a shot at T-Bone’s European championship.

 

Edwin: Ahhh yes, that extra little incentive will definitely give both of these competitors a little more motivation in this match.

 

King: The European championship, bah! The prestigious title... now held by T-Bone. It makes me sick.

 

Fugue is the first to get up, the dropkick couldn’t have helped Thor’s hurt knee. Fugue goes behind Thor who is just now getting up and on his knees, and locks on a headlock. Thor realizes quickly Fugue’s game plan and stands up surprisingly fast and squashes Fugue like a gnat underneath his bulk. Thor gets up too fast and hobbles on his bad knee. Thor then picks Fugue up and holds him above his head in a suplex. Thor holds the madman above his head for too long as Fugue comes to and pokes Thor in the eye, causing him to fall with Fugue falling on top of him. Fugue remains in his fallen position and pins Thor.

 

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Thor with a powerful kick out at two and a half. Fugue gets to his feet, undaunted by Thor’s kick out, and kicks Thor in the chest. Fugue’s foot hitting Thor’s flesh makes a sickening slap. Fugue then goes behind Thor, who is now standing, and hooks his arm in a double chicken wing. Fugue then drops Thor backwards in the Coda. The crowd boos, but Fugue isn’t done yet. He then flips over Thor into a bridging position and Thor grunts in pain. Fugue rocks back and forth, stretching all of Thor’s muscles, trying to make him submit. The referee is on the mat asking Thor if he wants to quit. Thor shakes his head no, but his face says otherwise.

 

Axis: What a painful submission maneuver by Fugue. The guy is so deranged, I wonder if sits and thinks of painful ways to hurt his opponent.

 

Edwin: I’d have to agree with you there Axis, Fugue is sadistic.

 

King: A man after my own heart!

 

The crowd starts to yell and cheer and clap, in hopes of getting Thor to come back. They grow louder and as their volume increases, Thor gets his wits about him. They reach a fortissimo and Thor busts out of the hold with a grunt. The crowd goes wild and Thor battles back. He nails Fugue with rights and lefts, staggering him, much to the delight of the crowd. He whips Fugue into the ropes and Thor catches him with the big boot to the face. Fugue goes down like he’s been shot and Thor goes to the turnbuckle and starts to climb, not once loosing the interest of the crowd. Thor reaches the top and he leaps off, crushing the chest of Fugue with the Crack of Thunder elbow drop. Thor hooks the leg for the cover.

 

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Fugue kicks out! Fugue honestly kicks out after being crushed with the crack of Thunder. The crowd is shocked. They have no particular liking for the maniacal music man, but they start a chant of “HOLY SHIT!! HOLY SHIT!!” The crowd is in disbelief of what they’ve just seen. No one has ever kicked clean out of the Crack of Thunder before and Fugue does it. The crowd marks out entirely as Thor stands up and stares at the smiling body of Fugue. Thor shakes his head in disbelief of what has just occurred. He is even more surprised to see Fugue stand up and crouch down, ready for some more action. Thor has no choice but to go on so he grabs Fugue by the arm and whips him against the ropes. He bounces back and ducks under Thor’s boot, and bounces off the other ropes. Thor goes for a back clothesline, but Fugue slides underneath but Thor charges forward and catches Fugue with a clothesline, taking the smiling man to the mat.

 

Edwin: I cannot believe what we just saw. Fugue kicked out clean after being punished with the Crack of Thunder.

 

Axis: This is unreal. Nobody should be able to kick out of an elbow drop from a three hundred and forty five pound man.

 

King: I have to say, the more I see Fugue in action the more I like him. He is going to make a wonderful European champion.

 

Thor bounces off the ropes and jumps back with a leg drop, but Fugue rolls out of the way. Fugue stands and waits for Thor to. When he does Fugue attempts to kick Thor, but Thor catches his foot. He’s much to smart to be hit with such an obvious move. Fugue agrees, but Thor doesn’t see the enziguri that Fugue had set up. Thor gets taken down to the mat and Fugue runs to the corner and leaps to the top. Fugue turns around and leaps off into a firebird splash... except he hits only the canvas as Thor rolls out of the way just in time.

 

Thor gets to his feet and grabs Fugue by his hair, pulling him towards him. Thor lifts up Fugue for a standard body slam, but Fugue reverses the maneuver and slides back behind Thor and pushes him forward with a dropkick. Fugue runs against the ropes and bounces back, but Thor steps to the side, allowing Fugue to bounce off the opposing ropes. He bounces back from the two sets of ropes, really building momentum and leaps at Thor who has moved back into position. Thor quickly grabs Fugue, spins him upside down and turns him facing out. All this coupled with one quick stump pulling motion, plants Fugue directly with the Ragnarok piledriver. Thor covers.

 

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DING!! DING!! DING!!

 

Thor picks up the win over the sWo member Fugue. Thor stands up and the referee holds up Thor’s hand and hands him his TV title. Funyon steps back into the ring and speaks in his booming baritone “Here is your winner and the number one contender for the European title... THOOOOORRRR!!” The already cheering crowd pops again at the mention of Thor’s name. “God of Thunder” starts up and Thor holds up his TV title belt for the fans.

 

Axis: Well Thor takes the win from Fugue tonight. You’ve got to wonder how Thor’s feeling right now.

 

Edwin: No you don’t. He’s feeling great! He’s the TV champion, he just won his match, and he is going to face T-Bone for the European title!

 

Axis: Oh... yeah, I guess you’re right.

 

King mutters to himself something about Axis having breasts.

 

During all of this Fugue has rolled out of the ring and stands facing the ring. He is pointing to his head and making comments not audible over the cheering of the crowd. Thor has noticed him at this point and is wondering what is wrong with Fugue. Fugue then points to the back as Thor’s music is cut off and is replaced by “Ashes In The Fall” by Rage Against The Machine. The fans recognize the music and boo the heel stable heavily. A pyro erupts on one side of the stage. Another explodes on the other side of the stage. Then a huge pyro explodes in the middle of the stage. As the sWo come out, looking as imposing as ever. Mak Francis and Y2K are clad in the long black trench coats and sunglasses, while a still sweaty Mike Van Siclen is bearing only the dark, reflective sunglasses.

 

They all raise their hands in the air as a tribute to their glorious leader Chris Wilson. His guidance and his twisted vision make the sWo what they are today. The fans boo even louder by the ceremonial hand raising as the music keeps playing. They all lower their hands and they each take off their shades at the same time. Mak Francis stands in the center of the group. “The Rising Sun” Y2K to his right and Mike Van Siclen to his left. They all smile a wicked smile as Francis is given a mic.

 

Fugue has moved up the aisle and is now standing with the rest of the sWo. They stand in a line on the stage. The apparent leader, Mak Francis stands right at the top of the entrance ramp. Mak speaks, his voice steady and self assured. “Hey Thor! You just had yourself one hell of a match, so... I’ll make this brief. The sWo is strong, the sWo will not be put down easily. You might have the size, you might have the strength, hell you might even have the TV title. But one thing you do not have... is the numbers. A five on one attack should be enough to shut your Olde English speaking mouth for good!”

 

Thor stands in the ring, listening intently to the rant from “The Franchise”. He grabs a mic from a nearby official and speaks “Canst thou not e’en count the numbers of thine own faction? Thou hast not five varlets in thine devious stable, thou hast only four.” Francis grins, he knew that Thor would say exactly that. He smirks again, now his entire group is moving slowly down the aisle. Fugue delivering his wicked grin, Y2K buffing the edge of one side of his shimmering razor claw, Mike Van Siclen’s screeching blonde hair bouncing as he walks, and Mak Francis is doing all the talking.

 

Axis: I don’t like the looks of this.

 

King: Ooh, they are up to something tonight!

 

“Whoa there Thor! No you see, I’m no fool. I learned to count in school and remember it I have. There are five.” He points down the row of his teammates and counts them off. “One!” he points at the sadistic Fugue. “Two!” he points to Y2K. “Hehe, three!” he points to himself. “Four!” he points to his right at Mike Van Siclen who gives a wink. Mak and the sWo then stop at the base of the ramp, no more than three yards away from Thor himself. Mak then chuckles to himself then speaks in a serious tone “And five.” he points to the ring. Thor stands there confused.

 

The lights shut off abruptly.

 

A loud crack is heard, and a dull thud following it.

 

The lights come one again and Thor is lying in the middle of the ring, a large puddle of blood around him. A figure stands over top of him. He has a black turtleneck on, along with black pants and a black ski-mask. Over top of his turtleneck is a sWo t-shirt. The man is holding Thor’s own prized hammer which is dripping with blood. The mysterious man holds up the hammer above his hands with both hands, a grin visible through his mask. The rest of the sWo walks calmly towards the ring and step inside. Mak Francis is the first inside and he walks up to the mysterious man and shakes his hand, then pulling him towards him in an embrace.

 

Edwin: What the hell is this?!?

 

King: Haha, now you are gonna see what the sWo are truly capable of!

 

Edwin: I am going to get to the bottom of this!

 

Mak Francis holds up the masked man’s hand as if in victory and the rest of the sWo take their shots at Thor. They all lay the boots to the fallen Thunder God and then they roll him over in the middle of the ring. All the sWo members crowd around the fallen Thor and proceed to each spit in his face. When they are finished, they stand Thor up... just barley, and Mak Francis, who has somehow obtained the TV title belt, bounces off the ropes and smacks Thor in his bloody face with his own belt. The fans boo like never before at this horrific team of heels. The sWo now stand lined up by the ropes, each bearing a wicked smile on their face.

 

The sWo has made their point.

[Guest crusen86]

The live crowd buzzes in anticipation as the fifteen-foot high cage of steel is constructed over the makeshift ring. The hundred thousand SJL viewers stand in awe of the structure while Jay Dawg of SWF fame preaches about the Lawntrix to the few that will listen. As the camera turns on the hot crowd burst and a tidal wave of cheers ring out signifying the Smarks Junior Leagues Crimson telecast coming back on in the homes of millions. The camera pans the crowd, which has exploded after all that has occurred on this epic show. A few signs give fans their fifteen minutes of fame like “The Lawn = ratings”, “sWo is SoL”, “Silent breaking jobbers necks = (Y)“, “C.I.A is a M.I.A (Master in Action) and that’s A-OK”, “Eddie Mac = World Champ Forever”, and finally “Wait I don’t need to suck up to him”. So the camera pans again and new signs appear in the same places like “I mark for TNT”, “Watch me Explodeeeeee even if he’s in the WF”, “Taylor Thompson is money = (Y)”, “Mag 7 rulz”, “Did I shill you enough yet…” and the response from Thompson is NO so a “TNT is a genius” sign pops up in the crowd out of nowhere, The camera pans away from the crowd and comes to the booth where a burly Aussie sits in between a former and current Heavyweight Champion of the World.

 

“Hello and Good day mates!” exclaims the large Australian commentator. “I’m Axis and to my left and right respectively are current SWF World champion…EDDIE MAC-Phis-TOOOO! And his evil arch nemesi or is that nemesis of former World Championship fame…THE SUICIDE KING!”

 

Edwin, Axis and even the Suicide King marvels at the crowd on the lawn that await this stunning main event but soon comes back to their senses. “This show has been ridiculously crazy so far with the sWo is trying to run roughshod in my fed for the second time.” snaps Edwin. “Yes they came out here and interrupted Renegade’s opening speech” quickly adds Axis. “And then I had to set everything straight-” Edwin starts but he gets cut off fast by a loud and brash voice for the first of many times to come. “But so far they have stuck it to the man with the total destruction of Thor and the promise to reveal who the fifth sWo member was that helped in the attack.” mentions an elated Suicide King.

 

“Last week the sWo introduced two new members to the fold, Thor retained his Television title in a hide and go seek match and CIA and Renegade dueled over the World Title by way of HELL IN A SWIMMING POOL!” Axis bellows to the TV audience. “But even that can’t compare to what has happened here today…”

 

“This has been to coin a phrase Suicide King like good so far up to this main event in which two of the best the JL has to offer go against each other,” states a giddy King. “And the best as JL World Champion Renegade…” As King pauses the crowd erupts for the completion of the steel cage. “…The best will be hanging out beside the ring as special match enforcer after tonight’s opening encounter.”

 

“Yes, Renegade will be the special ring enforcer in this grudge cage match between CIA and sWo leader Mak Francis!” Edwin proclaims with a glint in his eyes. “And if you are just tuning in, that’s because I have changed this match on the fly into a #1 Contenders Cage Match for his SJL WORLD TITLE!”

 

As the ring crew check the cage of impending doom Axis speaks up. “It’s No DQ, countout, pinfall, submission, and or knock out which means once both men are inside the cage, the door will be closed and no ref will be inside! With the only way to open it being a key held by said ringside referee! This steel cage grudge match is the culmination of an unbelievable show at The Lawn, in Woodbridge Virginia!” The crowd pops in anticipation and Edwin chuckles before his reply “And it’s all my doing right Kingy?”

 

At the mention of this Suicide King sulks a little and concedes that the Mac Daddy did in fact book a great match-up. “Yes Edwin even a dog can find a bone every once in a while.”

 

Edwin grins manically and laughs at the defeat of his rival when a loud voiceover blares…

 

“PICK UP THE PACEEEEEEE!”

 

The opening words of “(SIC)” by Slipknot are played and they go straight into the vocals of the song as Renegade comes out. Renegade looks at the ground before he lifts his head up and gives out a self-high five…

 

FWIIISH-BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!

 

And at the same time pyrotechnics explode and shower the open air with clouds of dust and smoke. Renegade comes down to the ring walking with a purpose proving just how not a happy camper he is. The man receives a huge mixed reaction that leans more towards hatred as opposed to adoration. The Master himself glares at announce table and in particular the “Crown Prince of Flash and Panache”, Edwin MacPhisto. Renegade stands a little off to the side after pointing his index finger at Edwin and driving home a few choice words.

 

“ Making his way to ringside from New York City, New York…the special cage match enforcer…REN-NEEE-GADEEEEEEE!”

 

“Well he’s certainly in…uh…high spirits today.” Edwin adds as Gade turns back towards the entranceway.

 

“I’d be upset too if I got screwed like he did!” yell King, scowling at Edwin from across the booth. “This match was supposed to be about two people killing themselves in a steel cage, with the sWo coming out on top of that Canadian clown.” rants King. “But low and behold you drag Renegade into it and make it a contenders match for his title.”

 

“ He just-” starts Axis but sure enough he is forced to get ready and the crowd is too as Down with the Sickness blasts on the lawn speakers…

 

[Whispered] ‘Are you Ready?’….

 

Blue and White strobe lights flash as the Smarktron airs highlights of Mak Francis hitting the perfect kick on TNT. This is followed by a blue and white photonegative image of Mak Francis…

 

[semi loud] ‘Are you Ready?’….

 

And a clip of him planting Scott Reid with The Franchise Tag followed by the blue and white photonegative image again…

 

[screamed] ‘CAUSE THE FRANCHISE HERE!’

 

“Making his way to ringside at 225 pounds…hailing from the city of brotherly hate…“The Franchise” MAAAAK FRRANNNNNCCCIIIISSSSSS!”

 

The jumbo Smarktron placed outdoors flashes the words 'The Franchise'. Francis for once starts out all business totally ignoring the fans but just can’t take the pressure and goes apeshit cursing them out! Then he goes into the cage but not without talking some smack to Renegade first.

 

“Francis really into this match but can the talented sWoer pull off a big win here. He seems jumpy.” Says Axis, like he’s taking notes on the wrestlers attitudes. “Well a shot at the world title will do that to you Aussie clod.” Replies King as the crowd jeers Mak’s entrance into the cage.

 

“Now all we’re waiting for is…” And another interruption occurs as the lights in the arena change, slightly, everything acquiring a red tinge, as the SmarkTron flickers to life, portraying a Canadian flag, flowing in the wind, and the instrumental accompaniment to 'O Canada' playing.

 

BOOM!

 

A bright red rush of pyrotechnics shoot up into the cool air and glittering points of red light slowly drifting down from above,

 

'Secret Agent Man', and the emergence of a masked figure, microphone in hand. Ready to wow the crowd that he already holds in the palm of his hand.

 

"Ladies and Gentleman of the LAWN!" C.I.A. poses for a moment, going for the cheap pop that is given with any comment about the Lawn. "Greetings from the frozen north!" Walking down towards the ring, C.I.A. slaps hands with all the fans he passes. "Buy yourself a Canadian keg, and get ready to watch Mak Francis beg!" He stops suddenly and glares at Gade, extending his arms out to the sides, causing Canadian flags to dangle from each arm, before bringing the microphone to his lips and tossing his head back one last time. "Raise your voices up, get drunk and let the people smile! Cause I'm here, and it’s damn sure clear I'm bringing this sWo member ass whoopin‘s with the CANADIAN STYLE!" removing his jacket, C.I.A. hands it to an attendant outside the ring, along with the microphone in his hands. And ends his stare down with Renegade only to get into one with Francis immediately upon entering the cage.

 

“Look at that stare down you can feel the electricity! CIA v Mak Francis with The Renegade Masta as the ring enforcer, it’ll be a hell of a match!” Replies Edwin, sounding like his SWF announcing counterpart Grand Slam Mark Steven in a markish voice “Can CIA overcome all odds and win against his most heated rival with the man he faced in HELL IN A SWIMMING POOL just outside the cage!!” states Axis in a tone of excitement

 

“What did I tell you and shed boy about talking, you’re ruining the moment.” quips King. “These guys are equally matched in almost everything…strength…speed. Everything!” As King continues to speak and quarrel with Axis, Francis is forced to look up into the eyes of the 2-inch taller and twelve pounds heavier CIA. Eyes lock and crowd is really hot as the TV camera zooms out to show a wide screen shot of both men within the cage cells, screening them. And then it zooms in, back on the two competitors whose bodies shake with excessive nervous energy.

 

“The tension is building as both men are saying something’s to each other in a tone below whispering.” Edwin notes, as the crowd gets as antsy as the wrestlers. “What do you think they’re saying-“ And Axis is interrupted yet again by the two men throwing down in the center of the ring….

 

…And Francis connects first with a right to the ear! “First shot in by Mak, Edwin.” Is heard from an excited King but that doesn’t matter as CIA fires back strong with a stiff punch of his own. The Franchise stumbles back and the two men trade rights in the middle of the ring. CIA scores with a viscous strike…

 

And another blow to the face that causes the crowd to cheer and forces Francis back on his heels. “CIA taking to the offensive and this crowd is loving it!”. Comments Axis but King quickly quiets him with a look that says, just shut the hell up and watch the brawl. And it’s true that no comments are needed for this toe-to-toe fistfight. CIA nails another overhand right and launches Francis into the ropes with an Irish whip - and Francis returns not quite recovered and unable to duck the clothesline attempt.

 

- WHAM -

 

Francis hits the mat hard from the sheer power of the attack but gets back up and lunges towards CIA again, only to receive the same treatment. Finally Francis gets up to his feet on shaky legs – “What the hell is he doing!” yells King as CIA waves his right and left arms about, takes an imaginary swig of Canadian brew…then grabs his crotch and drops Francis to the mat with the Bionic Elbow that pops the crowd because of his showmanship.

 

“CIA showing shades of the American Dream with-” but Edwin interrupts. “It’s CIA the American Dream with a Canadian twist! Zing!” Axis looks saddened and mumbles that it was his line but that doesn’t matter as CIA picks Francis back up to his vertical base. After a few quick shots CIA goes for a corner whip -

 

“Come on Francis reverse the whip.”

 

“No dice Kingy, Francis hits the buckle hard and falls down face first.”

 

“And CIA is back on the Franchise.” Which is true as the new Canadian Dream grabs his fallen opponent and whips him to the opposite corner – where Francis hits the turnbuckle and flips upside down a la Ric Flair banging his head on the cage as he falls back to his feet. He turns around, taking a step forward – and falling flat on his face.

 

“Francis has been shell shocked in the opening of this main event and Renegade looks on with concern pacing around the cage.”

 

“Mak’s being bloody dominated and got lucky he did get busted open by the cold unforgiving steel!”

 

Canadian Intelligence grabs Francis once again – but this time the beaten Francis gets in a thumb to the eyes. “If you can’t beat ’em, cheat ’em! That’s my motto.” Francis uses his dastardly counterattack and moves into a snap suplex but doesn’t let go as he looks to and does nail another snapping suplex.

 

“And just that quickly Francis gets on the offensive.”

 

“Mak stopped CIA’s momentum easier then Axis’s momma!” and with that comment from King, Francis attempts to end the rolling snap suplexes - by going for a front face and trying to cradle CIA’s leg!! Francis flips off the crowd gaining tons of heat and tries to lift CIA –

 

Axis yells stunned “HE’S GOING FOR THE FRANCHISE TAG…”

 

But he gets countered with a left-handed shotei to the chest-

 

“…[Relieved] countered by CIA!”

 

“WHOOOOO!” goes the crowd as the loud palm thrust smacks the chest of Francis and forces him to lose his grip, falling backwards and covering his chest. Renegade just paces about looking on at the match with a vested interest.

 

“The Shooootaaaay, breaks up the Franchise Tag attempt early.”

 

“Dumb crowd, it’s a palm thrust not a knife edge chop!”

 

And a right handed stepping shotei to the chest of the Franchise gets another Flair like cheer. CIA connects with a left-handed shotei to the cheek of his opponent, which gives Edwin license to Shotei call.

 

“Hey yo Shooootaaaay!”

 

“Shut up, you British nutjob!”

 

CIA falls through the shotei blow and loads up on his right leg firmly planting it on the mat. The crowd bellows in anticipation of the rolling elbow or roaring elbow to us Americans. CIA turns gaining extra torque and drives the point of his elbow to the chin of the self proclaimed Franchise. Francis takes the blow, his face violently jerking sideways and he drops to the mat out stone cold!!

 

“Wrolling Elbowah connectah~!”

 

“Enough with the PURO. Half our fans don’t even get the references.”

 

“You’re just mad because I have a better accent”

 

“Am not!”

 

“ARE TOO!”

 

“AM NOT!!”

 

“ARE TOOOO!!!”

 

“And on that note Francis is still dead in the ring, while CIA is climbing the steel cage.”

 

“SHUT UP AXIS!” chime in both Edwin and King, who quickly go back to there bickering. True to the big man from down under’s words CIA’s scaling the ropes and attempting to climb up to the top. But Renegade dashes over that side of the cage and while CIA has made it on top of the ropes he talks trash with a purpose trying to delay CIA’s win. Francis starts to move on the mat as the two bitter enemies have a stare down once again.

 

“What is the Renegade Masta saying to stop CIA from climbing the cage?”

 

“Well, it must be good Axis. It must be good.”

 

CIA end the cold stare down and continues his climb as all of a sudden the Franchise dives over to the ropes. Francis still woozy from the elbow slowly tries to climb as CIA has almost made it to the top of the cage. CIA gets one leg almost over the top when Francis grabs at his other leg. Canadian Intelligence shakes his leg but Francis is like a pitbull and pulls him back down to the ropes, to the chagrin of the fans. CIA tries to attack Francis but the Franchise slides across the top rope towards the middle.

 

“What’s going to happen here?”

 

CIA chases Francis to the middle of the top rope and the two men trade weak left hand trying not to fall. But Francis finally goes for a right that staggers the Canadian Dream.

 

Francis loops his arms about his dazed opponents waist – “What in the bloody hell is Mak going-” starts Edwin MacPhisto but even he knows what’s going to happen. Both mens’ bodies will be broken if he executes…

 

 

 

…

 

 

 

 

And Francis falls, falls, falls backwards to the mat from the middle of the top rope and crushes both his and CIA’s cranium to the canvas with a textbook GERMAN SUPLEX! If it can even be a textbook German from the top rope!

 

The fans let out a crushed groan as both men come down hard on the canvas, CIA landing particularly hard on the back of his shoulders and neck, body flipping over in the center of the ring, the Franchise none the better for the fall, neither man moving right away. The cameras cut to a shot of Renegade, smiling a rather smug smile. Coming up close to the cage, Renegade removes the world title from around his waist, holding it up against the mesh of the cage and yelling insults at both men inside the ring. Some fans boo, while others begin to clap their hands, urging the downed wrestlers to get to their feet.

 

“Well, now, it looks like Renegade wants to show that he’s number one, and remind both these men that he plans to stay that way. Of course, if some biased commissioner hadn’t booked this match, he wouldn’t have to say anything.”

 

Edwin fires back at King, just slightly perturbed by the Suicidal one’s comments. “CIA is in a cage match no more than one show after one of the most brutal bouts the JL has ever seen, King. And I thought you liked Mak Francis.”

 

King doesn’t seem to have anything to say to that, so Axis speaks in his stead. “The truth of the matter is, both of these men have tremendous talent, and either one could pull this out. The question is, will they be in shape to face off against Renegade when it’s all over?”

 

In the center of the ring, the two competitors react almost the same second Axis speaks, CIA rolling over on his side and gripping the back of his head, just as the Franchise rolls over onto his stomach, pushing himself up onto his hands and knees. Looking over towards the downed Canadian, Francis sees him beginning to rise into a sitting position, and the sWo’s favorite son moves even quicker to rise, pushing off with his feet, body moving a few feet with a quick burst, driving his forearm into the side of CIA’s head and smiling smugly as the Canadian grips his skull and rocks back onto the mat again.

 

Kneeling down over his foe, Mak reaches down and clamps down on the Canadian’s throat, blatantly choking him on the mat. CIA kicks and writhes, hands trying to pull the gripping fingers from around his throat, with no luck. After about four seconds of this, the Franchise instinctively lifts his body weight slightly, about to let go. That is, until he stops, and realizes there is no referee, at which point he leans down with his entire weight, clamping down even harder on the masked wrestler’s throat and choking the life out of him.

 

King laughs, clearly approving of the rather blatant tactics of Francis. “Looks like Mak just realized the most essential secret of the cage. If there’s no ref, it’s not cheating!”

 

“King, that’s a deplorable thing to say. It’s still a dishonorable, horribly unfair, and totally rude thing to do to all the fans who came here to see some wrestling.”

 

“And you’re mad CIA didn’t think of it first, right Co-missy-nair?”

 

“Damn straight.”

 

Finally releasing the hold, Francis rises to his feet, stepping around by his Canadian foe’s lower body, grabbing both feet and tugging them up into the air, stepping forward. It looks as though Francis might be setting up for the figure four, but instead the Philidelphia native tugs CIA’s lower body even higher, hooking his legs under each arm, knees positioned right at the back of the masked wrestler’s thighs. Rocking back, Mak hits the mat, and continues to roll through, releasing his grip on CIA’s feet just as he comes rocketing up to a standing position, and is lifted up by the momentum to sail a few feet across the ring, crashing face first into the steel cage. The fans wince in sympathy, and Francis sees his opportunity while CIA is draped tiredly over the top rope.

 

Quickly making his way to the other side of the ring, Mak intertwines his fingers with the mesh of the cage, and pulls himself up onto the top rope, stopping for just half a second to look back towards CIA and toss out a few of his most choice insults. Outside the cage, Renegade quickly comes around next to the announce table, shoving aside a ringside official and folding up his steel chair, taking it in hand and wielding the seating device/weapon with a purpose as h makes his way back towards the wall of the cage that Mak is beginning to scale. Francis’ fingers tie up in the cage, as he pulls himself higher, just about at the top. Looking down, he sees Renegade with a steel chair in hand, staring up at him. Looking down, Francis yells out, loud enough for anyone in the front row to hear. “I get out of this cage, I get the shot! What good is your little chair now?”

 

At which point Renegade takes a small leap, swinging the chair hard, end cracking against the cage, but more importantly, against Francis’ fingers, causing the Franchise to yell out in pain and fall back from the cage, back impacting with the mat. Some of the fans boo, some cheer, while Renegade unfolds the steel chair and sets it down, taking a comfortable seat at ringside.

 

“Hmph. I don’t know whether I should hate Renegade for holding down the one and only Franchise, or if I should admire his evil mind in knowing there’s no way Francis can climb if his fingers are broken? It’s all so confusing!”

 

Axis sighs, cutting in with his own expertise on the matter. “King’s psychological quandaries notwithstanding, we could have just seen a number one contender crowned, thanks to Mak Francis’ underhanded tactics. But then, live by the sword, die by the sword, as Renegade counters with some dastardly play of his own, leveling a vicious chairshot on the fingers of the Franchise.”

 

“Hmm… nothing new to add…. King didn’t say anything particularly dumb…. Uhhh….. pandas?”

 

In the crushing confines of the cage, the quite recently dubbed ‘Canadian Dream’ is up from the ropes, making his way across the ring and stopping just a few steps away from the fallen Franchise, pointing over in Renegade’s direction and yelling a few choice words, culminating in the most recognizable bit of sing language the world over.

 

“Looks like CIA is taking umbrage at Renegade’s dirty tricks.”

 

Suddenly, the Canadian runs a half step forward, hopping off his feet and coming down with a hard elbow across one hand of Mak Francis, crushing it to the mat.

 

“It also looks like he’s taking advantage of those selfsame dirty tricks, Axis.”

 

Indeed, CIA comes to his feet, dropping two more quick knees across the hand of Mak Francis, causing the sWo’s most successful member to cry out with pain. Taking hold of the wrist of the same hand, CIA twists and tugs, pulling Mak sharply to his feet. Francis lashes out as he comes up, striking the Canadian in the face with a sharp punch from his good hand, then another. Drawing his fist back once more, he swings, only to have his foreign foe duck, twisting around and using his own momentum to power a hard irish whip into the nearby ropes. Francis has no time to turn around, and hits the ropes stomach first, rebounding only for half a second before CIA’s hand comes crashing into the back of his skull, sending his face crashing into the steel mesh of the cage.

 

The fans ‘Whooo!’ once more for this hard shotei, as they did for all the rest, although most fans wince as CIA holds Francis against the steel, hand dragging the barely smaller man’s unprotected face brutally back and forth along the cage. Francis cries out in pain, the cameras getting a very good close up shot of his face before CIA finally releases him, allowing him so stumble back into the center of the ring.

 

Edwin seems quite pleased that the patriotic grappler has maintained his control, and his tone says as much as he speaks. “Well, CIA Is certainly keeping a stranglehold on this match’s pacing right now, going nice and slow, knowing Mak Francis probably won’t be able to climb the cage with his bad hand.” Smirking at King, who seems to think this whole thing is rather bothersome when Mak isn’t winning, Edwin continues. “If he keeps this up, why, I wouldn’t be surprised to see him win this…. Hey, wait a second. What the heck is this?

 

Edwin stands from his seat, cutting off his mic just long enough to talk to a ringside security guard, pointing up past the cage towards the entryway. By now, most of the fans hace seen it too, and a rain of boos escapes them, showering down over the swaying Musician standing at the top of the ramp. Renegade rises from his chair, making his way around the ring to the bottom of the ramp, pointing up towards Fugue, though the deranged one merely smiles and sways in place to the music only he can hear.

 

In the ring, neither man sees Fugue, or maybe they just don’t care. CIA makes a rush towards the Franchise, catching him across the forehead with a bionic elbow, which drops Mak to the mat, clutching his skull. Staying on the attack, CIA lifts Francis up to his feet, camera catching a shot of the Franchise’s lacerated forehead as he rises. Mak is definitely bleeding ‘the Franchise Blood’, although he doesn’t seem to be cut up too badly, a mere trickle streaming down the center of his face.

 

Nonethless, the blood seems to awaken the Franchise, as he stumbles back, raising both hands and begging off from his Canadian foe. Marching forward, CIA grabs hold of the Franchise’s hair, cocking one fist for a solid shot to the face, and looking side to side as the fans cheer, urging him on. Smiling, CIA draws his fist back further, and leans in to throw the punch, only to keel over in pain as Francis brings a forearm rocketing up between his thighs, lifting CIA off the ground slightly and causing him to yelp in pain, the fans boo, as Francis rises from his knees, shoving CIA over on his back, and pointing out towards the crowd, making a ‘Bring it on’ motion. The fans in that section start booing, believing Francis to be taunting him, but soon the whole audience catches on to the negative reaction as Mike Van Siclen emerges from that section of the audience, popping up behind Renegade, who is still focused on Fugue, swaying at the top of the ramp.

 

“Oh, yes, this is BRILLIANT! How much smarter could the Franchise get? He’s distracted Renegade, setting him up for this sneak attack, to get him out of the way so Francis can take the win!”

 

“These two men fighting hard on the inside, CIA keeping the pressure on, at least until Mak Francis resorted to that low-blow to turn things around. And King does have a point, you have to wonder what these two men are doing out here.”

 

“I can’t believe him, calling out his lackeys to help him get the win. The sWo wants to know why they get no respect? How about winning this one by YOURSELF, Francis?”

 

King seems perturbed, immediately speaking up. “You’re saying he was going to win, with Renegade patrolling the outside with bad intentions? Was that any less ‘wrong’ for the competitors in this match?”

 

“Well….. I guess not… wait, are you saying you just want a fair match?”

 

“Not a chance in hell, you loon. I want Francis and the sWo to take out both these goons and seal up a world title victory tighter than a virgin at a Star Trek convention.”

 

As the announcers trade not-so-witty banter, the assembled sWo members make their move. Francis heads for the door of the cage, climbing through the ropes, and Fugue begins to walk down the ramp, focusing Renegade on him. The world champ is riveted on the musician, and unfortunately, he doesn’t see Van Siclen rushing from behind, clocking him with a hard clothesline. Renegade doesn’t fall from his feet, instead merely turning towards MVS with a scowl. The fans cheer as both men begin to brawl, trading punches as they move around the ring. Fugue picks up the pace, booking it down the ramp now, producing a pair of bolt cutters from behind his back, and making a bee-line for the sealed door.

 

“I can’t believe this! The sWo had this planned all along! This is a travesty!”

 

“Quiet, you Australian goober, some of us are trying to watch this.”

 

Climbing the stairs mounted at the corner of the ring, Fugue makes his way up to the door of the cage, sparing a quick glance to be sure Renegade is still occupied with MVS. Sure that he is, Francis urges Fugue on, and the deranged one raises the bolt cutters, clamping them around the lock on the door, neither man seeing CIA coming to his feet in the center of the ring. The lock clatters to the steel steps, and Francis smiles a smug smile as Fugue is just about to open the door, and let him walk his way into a world title shot. Fugue continues to smile, but he spots the risen Canadian behind Mak, and points him out to the Franchise. Francis spins around, and CIA leaps towards him, catching the sWo man just under the chin, fans popping like heated corn kernels as Francis collides with the cage and crumbles to the apron.

 

Approaching the door, CIA stops, looking at Fugue as he raises his bolt cutters into the air, snapping the blade shut a few times on empty air. The fans boo, and CIA shakes his head in anger, turning around in the ring and quickly running to the corner turnbuckle, mounting the top pad and hooking his fingers in the mesh of the cage. Many things start happening all of a sudden, as Renegade manages to shove off MVS, and spot the two men gathered by the door, Fugue unhooking the latch and swinging the door wide. CIA reaches up, getting one arm over the top of the cage, and the fans are on their feet, clapping and chanting, cheering their hero on.

 

Renegade turns away from MVS and rushes around the ring, headed for Fugue, as he begins to drag Mak Francis out of the cage, trying to help the Franchise shake out of his daze. CIA throws his leg over the top of the cage as Fugue pulls Francis’s upper body through the door, and it looks like a sure thing that the musician will get Mak out the door before anything can be done. Unfortunately for Francis, it is not to be so, as Renegade slams into Fugue, Sending the deranged one stumbling back, and beginning to lay in with fierce punches. Francis looks up, beginning to move, shuffling his knees and makins slow progress out of the door as CIA gets his other leg up over the top of the cage, ready to make his descent. The fans are going crazy, and the tension is amazing, CIA slowly coming down the side of the cage, Francis actually on the ground outside the ring, merely needing to pull himself a few more inches.

 

The Canadian spots this, and, with no hesitation, releases his grip on the cage, just as Francis rolls forward, feet flipping over his body. One man rolls, the other falls, and the only question now is who will hit first.

 

“It’s gonna be CIA! He’s falling through the air!”

 

“No! It’s gonna be the Franchise! It has to be, he planned it so well!”

 

“And your winner is…..”

 

CIA hits the floor, crumpling into a pile. Francis finishes his roll, feet slapping the protective mats. Both men seem to have gotten their feet on the ground at exactly the same moment, and an expectant hush falls over the crowd as the bell rings, Renegade ceasing his brawl with the sWo members at ringside, as all eyes turn towards the rising Funyon. Funyon rushes over to the announce table, leaning in to Edwin, who whispers something in his ear. The gaudily be-decked announcer seems confused, asking Edwin if he is sure, and finally, with a shrug, he raises his microphone, speaking unsteadily.

 

“Ladie and gentlemen, our commissioner has determined that both competitors feet touched the ground at the same time, and thus…. This match must be declared a draw!”

 

The fans, boo, throwing empty cups and food containers, and the two men from the match come up to their feet, yelling in the direction of Funyon, even though he is not to blame. Axis and King are busy bemoaning their picks loss. In fact, the only people who seems happy is Renegade, as he raises both hands in victory, peeling his Title belt from around his waist, and mockingly holding it in the air for CIA and Francis to see, and Edwin, oddly enough.

 

Funyon clears his throat into the microphone, and everything stops one more, every man turning to face him, audience falling silent. Speaking this time with a bit more confidence and aplomb, Funyon addresses the crowd. “And, as a result of NEITHER man losing this matchup, Edwin MacPhisto has named them BOTH number one contender to the SJL World Title!”

 

Needless to say, the fans are very enthused about this, as are the combatants in question. Even King and Axis are relieved, if only cause the man they wanted to win has not been eliminated. No, the mood drastically changed, the only man who seems unhappy is Renegade, as he stands, silent, slowly turning his head to look at his world title. Growling with rage, the Renegade master rushes the assembled sWo, clocking Francis with his world title. The other two immediately jump on the world champ, beginning an assault, and it’s not long before CIA makes his way around the cage, rushing into the brawl. All five men trade blows, and the camera cuts to Axis, King, and Edwin at the announce table.

 

“Well, it looks like I’ve made another BRILLIANT decision. After all, I am the crown prince of Flash and Panache, and if I know anything, it’s exciting world title matches. I’ve only been in a truckload of them in the last month or so.”

 

King chimes in, looking rather happy. “Though your world title reign has been more bland than a celery stick, you have made a fine decision for once. Mak Francis has the whole sWo at his back, and he’s going to take advantage of that to finally get the world title, and the RESPECT, that he deserves.”

 

Axis smiles as he gets his chance, as always, to address the fans for the closing of the show. “While we get security out here to break up this brawl, let me tell you fans, it has been a heck of a cage match, and our world title scene just got real exciting. The Franchise, The Canadian Dream, and the world champ himself, the Renegade Master. As if I had to say it, you’d be crazy to miss all the action that will result from this. What repercussions will this have on our next show? Will we soon see a new world champ crowned? Stay tunes to SJL programming to find out. But for tonight, I am Axis, joined as always by the Suicide King, and Edwin MacPhisto. Thanks for watching, and goodnight!”

 

The cameras cut away, showing the five men at ringside still brawling, security rushing in to separate them all, and the SWF logo appears in the lower right hand corner of the screen as everything fades to black.

[Guest crusen86]

Singles Match - #1 Contendership to the SJL Television Title

“Hollywood” Spike Jenkins vs. Kamikaze

WINNER: Kamikaze

 

No-DQ Singles Match

T-Bone vs. Mike Van Siclen

WINNER: MVS (Default)

 

Singles Match

Silent vs. Sydney Sky

WINNER: Silent (Default)

 

Singles Match - #1 Contendership to the SJL European Title

Fugue vs. Thor

WINNER: Thor

 

MAIN EVENT

Steel Cage Match

“The Franchise” Mak Francis vs. C.I.A.

WINNER: Both men are #1 contenders! Yas read my mind.

 

Excellent show people, even with limited matches. Keep it up. Metal card up within an hour.