SWF Ground Zero

July 29, 2002

Dozens of pyros screech down from the rafters, collide with the stage and suddenly the arena is rocked as multiple huge explosions fill the air. The "Ground Zero" logo leaps up onto the SWF-tron as "Let's start a war" by the Exploited blasts over the speakers and the cameras scan the excited audience.

Instead of cutting to the anouncer's table, the camera switches to a view of Ben Hardy, backstage at the Key Arena, grinning excitedly into the camera.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re about to witness a first here in the SWF…tonight is not only the first ever SWF Wargames match, but the first ever SWF Wargames Coin Toss Challenge!”

“Uh…Ben?” quips Matthew Kivell from off-frame. The camera pans to a shot of him standing between a snarling Chris Wilson and a glaring Edwin MacPhisto, and the crowd pops for the superstars. “It’s just a coin toss, Ben. No big deal.”

“Yeah, thanks Matty, great…I try to make my job a little more interesting and you just--”

“Gentlemen,” says Kivell, cutting Hardy off and eying Edwin and Wilson alternately, “this is how it’s gonna go down. I flip this coin. Heads, the Carnival gets the first entrance into Wargames, and the power-play advantage. Tails, it goes to the M7. Simple enough?”

“Well, what if I want tails?” asks Edwin.

“And what if I want heads?” quips Wilson.

Kivell is dumbfounded.

“You can’t…it doesn’t work…it doesn’t matter! Stand back! I’m flipping!” Wilson and Edwin share a glare, and Kivell tosses, catches…and reveals.

Tails. Cue the boos.

“Tails! It’s tails!” Wilson grins complacently, and Edwin punches his own palm. “The Magnificent Seven will have the first, third, fifth, seventh, and ninth entrance into Wargames tonight, and the Carnival will have two, four, six, eight, and ten! That’s the official word from your head official, and gentlemen: I’ll see you in the rings!” Kivell nods, grins at the camera…and Wilson looks Edwin firm in the eyes.

“Oh, absolutely, Matthew…absolutely. Nice toss you have there.” With a satisfied smirk, Wilson swaggers off-camera, leaving the Mac Daddy with gears turning in his head…

July 29, 2002

4-WAY ICTV TITLE #1 CONTERSHIP MATCH

Fallout vs. Lerrin Breggan vs. Chris Raynor vs. Spider Nekura

- These four talented grapplers will face off this Sunday for a shot at whoever the champion may be after the night is through!

Match Description - DQ and count-out rules are in effect. All 4 men are allowed in the ring at once and the first to score a pinfall, submission or knockout is the winner.

ULTIMATE SUBMISSIONS MATCH FOR THE SWF LIGHT-HEAVYWEIGHT TITLE

El Luchadore Magnifico © vs. Tom Flesher

- Despite their stables being allies, these two just can’t get along. Magnifico wanted this match badly and so challenged Flesher to a match the Clan member would have an advantage at (a submissions match) in order to get Flesher to accept. Will Flesher’s superior submissions skills get him the win, or does Magnifico have something up his sleeve?

Match Description – DQ and count-out rules are in effect. The match will last for 30 minutes. The man who scores the greatest number of submissions before the time runs out is the winner. DQs and count-outs don't count as falls, but if one of the wrestlers gets counted out or disqualified a fall will be subtracted from their total.

SWF HARDCORE TITLE MATCH

Jay Dawg vs. ???

- Ash Ketchum was set to face Jay Dawg for his hardcore title, but with Ash on the injured list another member of X Force-9 is being allowed to step in and challenge Dawg. Who’s it gonna’ be?

Match Description – Regular DQ and count-out rules are not in effect. Submissions, pinfalls and knockouts count anywhere within the arena.

SWF TAG TEAM #1 CONTENDERSHIP MATCH

Longdogger Pete & Tod deKindes vs. “TNT” Taylor Nicholas Thompson & Frost

- TNT and Frost came extremely close to defeating the current Carnie tag champs about a week ago, but if they want another shot at those belts they’ll have to beat the formidable X Force-9 team of Longdogger Pete and Tod deKindes!

STREETFIGHT FOR THE SWF ICTV TITLE

Erek Taylor © vs. The Boston Strangler

- The animosity has been building up between these two for a while, but the their feud really kicked into high gear when Erek Taylor cost Strangler a shot at the SWF heavyweight title. This Sunday these two will take it to the streets with the ICTV belt on the line!

Match Description – Regular DQ and count-out rules are not in effect. Submissions, pinfalls and knockouts count absolutely anywhere (even outside the arena).

WARGAMES

Edwin MacPhisto, El Luchadore Magnifico, Chris Raynor, Z & Thoth vs. Chris Wilson, Danny Williams, Outcast, “TNT” Taylor Nicholas Thompson & Frost

- What started as a feud between SWF champion Edwin MacPhisto and Chris Wilson has exploded into a league wide battle between Wilson’s Magnificent 7 and Edwin’s Midnight Carnival. This war has become so heated in fact, that MacPhisto has been forced to ally with former bitter rivals from the Clan. This match, which pits five of the best from Carnival/Clan against five of the best from the Magnificent 7 should be absolutely brutal, but will it mark the end of this battle or merely the beginning of the next chapter?

Match Description – 2 regular sized rings will be surrounded by a cell. There will be a 5 or 6 foot space between the wall of the cage and the edges of the 2 rings. The cell will be about 20 feet high and the top of the cage will be covered. The first team to force a member of the opposite team to submit is the winner. 2 men will start inside the cell and wrestle for 5 minutes, upon which a 3rd man will be introduced into the match. From there a new man will be introduced every 2 minutes.

July 29, 2002

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

*Funyon: The following four-way match is scheduled for one fall, with the winner to be named the #1 contender for the SWF ICTV Championship! Introducing first, from Cincinnati, Ohio, weighing 285 lbs., representing Creative Control…Lerrin Breggan!

*Stevens: All right! Let’s get this party started! As you just heard from Funyon, we’re starting the show with the four-way match. Fallout, Spider Nekura, and Chris Raynor will join Lerrin Breggan very shortly. The first man to score a pin or submission wins the match, and gets a shot at the ICTV Title.

*Riley: That title is currently held by Erek Taylor. Don’t ask me how he pulled that one off.

*Stevens: But perhaps not for long.

*Riley: We can only hope.

*Stevens: He’ll be defending that title in a street fight with the Boston Strangler later tonight.

The lights go out. After a brief pause, "Electra Made Me Blind" by Everclear starts playing, and during the opening riff, white lights begin blinking all around the stage. After the opening riff, Art Alexakis screams "YEA!" and right then, blue pyros go off around the stage, the lights come up, and once the singing starts, Chris Raynor emerges from backstage. He removes his jersey and throws it to the crowd, then makes his way to the ring.

*Riley: I hate Everclear.

*Funyon: His opponent, from Baton Rouge, Louisiana, weighing 250 lbs., representing the Midnight Carnival…Chris Raynor!

*Stevens: You’re just saying that because you hate Carnies, aren’t you?

*Riley: No, I actually hate Everclear. But I do hate Carnies as well. Thanks for reminding everyone.

*Stevens: Don’t mention it.

Raynor moves to a corner, climbs the turnbuckles, and waves to the crowd, soaking in the applause. The referee steps between Raynor and Breggan, making sure they don’t go at it before the match starts.

*Riley: Look at this crowd whore. Makes me sick.

*Stevens: Well, try not to lose your lunch yet. The show just started.

The lights go out. “Scum of the Earth” by Rob Zombie begins to play. As soon as the heavy guitar part starts, an explosion hits the entrance area, a faint green glow lights up the arena, and Fallout comes through the curtain. He heads straight for the ring, looking at his opponents.

*Funyon: Their opponent, from Phoenix, Arizona, weighing 185 lbs., representing the Clan…Fallout!

Fallout stops at the bottom of the ramp.

*Stevens: The Scum of the Earth has made his way to ringside, but he seem reluctant to enter the ring. What’s he waiting for?

As if on cue, Stevens’ question is answered. The arena lights fade out slowly and then after five seconds of complete darkness, multi-colored lights start to flash on and off. The heavy guitar intro to Metallica’s “Leper Messiah” thunders from the loudspeakers as boos reverberate through the arena.

‘So says the Clan…’ Is projected onto the IGNtron in a red, gothic font. The text ripples and fades away…

*Riley: That’s what he’s waiting for.

Then the main guitar riff kicks in, marking the arrival of Spider Nekura at the entranceway, clad in the Clan’s black, hooded robes. His head is down but his hate-filled eyes, barely visible behind his thick black hair, are transfixed to the ring. Spider’s arms are outstretched in his ‘scarecrow’ pose as the IGNtron bursts to life, showing Nekura pull off various moves throughout his career.

*Funyon: And finally, from the Third Plane of Hell, weighing 231 lbs., also representing the Clan…Spider Nekura!

Spider soaks up the crowd’s hostile noise for a few moments, his shadowy figure lit up from time to time by the camera flashes and spotlights, before making his way down the ramp as the riff ends. He stops next to Fallout, and the two exchange some words that can’t be picked up by the camera due to the music and the crowd noise.

*Stevens: It looks like Spider Nekura and Fallout are planning on working together. There’s no rule that says they can’t work together, but they aren’t partners in this match. Only one man can win.

*Riley: Only one PERSON can win. Don’t be sexist, Mark.

*Stevens: I’m pretty sure that everyone in this match is a man, Bobby…unless you know something I don’t. And if you do, just keep it to yourself.

*Riley: You’re disgusting.

*Stevens: You’re ugly.

Fallout and Nekura finish their conversation, and they suddenly run toward the ring and slide in under the bottom rope! Raynor runs up to meet Fallout, while Breggan goes after Nekura. Wild fist-slinging action ensues. Eventually, Raynor starts to gain the upper hand on Fallout and backs him into the ropes, while Breggan beats Nekura into a corner. Raynor eventually ceases his punching and grabs Fallout’s arm. Irish whip, Fallout reverses, and as Raynor comes toward him, Fallout back drops him over the top rope…but Raynor lands on the apron. Fallout turns around. Raynor takes a swing at him, but Fallout ducks. He then jumps up and nails Raynor with a dropkick, sending him to the floor! Raynor gets back up fairly quickly. Fallout runs off the opposite ropes, charges in Raynor’s direction, and then leaps over the top rope and takes Raynor (and himself) down with a suicide dive!

*Stevens: Fallout went airborne! He completely cleared the ropes, and nailed Raynor with a topé!

*Riley: The bodies have hit the floor, and we’re just getting started!

Breggan continues to pound away at Nekura. With only two men left in the ring, the referee decides he now has a chance to exert some control over this match, and he hits Breggan with a five-count.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

FOUR!

Breggan ceases his attack. He takes Nekura by the arm, gives it a good twist, and drags him out of the corner by the arm. Irish whip, Nekura does a handspring into the ropes, bounces back, and then leaps back into an elbow that nails Breggan in the face! Breggan, however, seems to be more annoyed than hurt, and he stays on his feet. Nekura nails him in the face with a right hand, but Breggan doesn’t seem to be affected by that either. Another right hand by Nekura. Still no effect. Nekura runs away from Breggan, bounces off the ropes, Breggan goes for a clothesline but Nekura slides between his legs and then pulls them out from under him, causing Breggan to hit the mat face-first! Nekura then crosses the legs and then holds them in place with his own leg, but Breggan realizes what’s happening and he quickly crawls over to the ropes. Nekura stomps on his head a few times before Breggan can get up.

*Stevens: Great presence of mind by Lerrin Breggan, who hopes to do Creative Control proud to start this pay-per-view.

*Riley: Nekura’s having a hard time hurting him. Then again, most people have trouble hurting this guy. You could chop one of his arms off and he’d probably pick it up and start beating you with it before he finally lost consciousness due to loss of blood.

*Stevens: …

*Riley: Mark? You okay?

*Stevens: Dude…there’s something seriously wrong with you.

*Riley: Dammit, I’m not gay!

*Stevens: That’s not what I meant.

Fallout has finally recovered from his previous attack on Raynor, and he slides back into the ring. He walks over and helps Nekura in his attempt to stomp Breggan’s head flatter than a pancake. Raynor is trying to get up on the outside. Nekura and Fallout pick up Breggan. Double Irish whip, and they take Breggan down with a pair of dropkicks! Breggan starts to get back up. Nekura and Fallout grab him, set him up…and they take Breggan down with a double suplex! Nekura then runs to one side of the ring, springboards off the middle rope, and nails Breggan with a Quebrada! Not wanting to be outdone, Fallout runs to the opposite side of the ring, jumps onto the second rope…but a recovering Raynor reaches up and punches Fallout in the face, and rather than hitting his own Quebrada, he simply falls off the rope onto the mat. Raynor slides into the ring. Nekura runs over with a clothesline, but Raynor ducks and then boots Nekura in the midsection. Irish whip, and Raynor takes Nekura down with a powerslam! He hooks the leg…

ONE!

TWO!

…but Fallout kicks Raynor in the head, breaking up the pin. Breggan is now standing in a corner of the ring, waiting patiently for an opportunity to arise. Raynor gets up. Fallout backs him down with a knife-edge chop! (WHOO!) Make it two! (WHOO!) A third chop puts Raynor in the corner. (WHOO!) A fourth causes him a bit more pain. (WHOO!) Before Fallout can do anything else, Breggan charges out of his corner and heads straight for the opposite corner, which is where Fallout and Raynor happen to be. A stiff running clothesline from Breggan knocks Fallout forward into Raynor, which squishes Raynor against the turnbuckles. Breggan pulls Fallout out of the corner. Irish whip, Breggan goes for another clothesline, but Fallout ducks, bounces off the ropes, and leaps into a cross-body attack…but Breggan catches him! However, Nekura delivers a kick to the back of Breggan’s knee, causing him to fall backward, and Fallout lands on top of him…

ONE!

TWO!

…but Breggan kicks out.

*Stevens: The Clan are certainly trying to wear down this monster from Creative Contol.

*Riley: Indeed they are. They’re using their combined abilities to wear down Breggan and Raynor. And when it’s down to just the two of them, may the best man win. A great plan devised by the Clan. A “Clan Plan” if you will.

*Stevens: “Clan Plan”? Jesus H. Christ.

Fallout buries his fist into Breggan’s head a few times while he’s down. The referee orders him to break it up and starts another five-count.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

FOUR!

Fallout stops punching and resorts to choking Breggan instead. Another five-count from the referee.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

FOUR!

Fallout suddenly stands up and gets right in the referee’s face! Fallout starts to back him down into a corner, saying words that are very nasty, even for pay-per-view. While the referee is distracted by Fallout’s bitching, Nekura lifts up Breggan’s legs, spreads them, and kicks him right in the gonads! Breggan groans from the intense pain.

*Stevens: That was a blatant low blow!

*Riley: Well why don’t you cry about it?

Raynor comes out of the corner and hits Nekura with a few right hands to the face, backing him down. But Nekura rakes the eyes and stops the assault from Raynor. Nekura follows up with a roundhouse kick to the gut. He grabs Raynor by the hair and pulls him out to the center of the ring. Fallout has ceased his argument with the referee, and is now watching as his ally goes to work on Raynor. Nekura lifts Raynor into a snap suplex. Still holding on, he pulls Raynor back up, and then hits him with another snap suplex. STILL holding on, he pulls Raynor up again, and then hits him with a Brainbuster, completing the Arachnophobia! Nekura hooks the leg…

ONE!

TWO!

…Fallout prepares to break up the pin, but Raynor kicks out before he has the chance.

*Stevens: Raynor kicked out of the Arachnophobia, and Fallout was ready to break up the pin. He and Nekura are working together, but as we’ve said, only one man can win.

*Riley: Person. One person.

*Stevens: Look, I don’t know what you’ve heard about any of these guys, but it’s not true.

*Riley: I haven’t heard anything. Just trying to be politically correct.

*Stevens: Politically correct? On a professional wrestling pay-per-view? What are you smoking?

Nekura picks Raynor up. He pushes him into the ropes and then grabs his right arm. Fallout grabs his left arm. Double Irish whip, both men lower their heads, but Raynor kicks Fallout in the face, causing him to stagger backward! Nekura looks up and tries to kick Raynor, but Raynor catches the leg, pulls Nekura in, lifts him up, and drops him into a shinbreaker! Fallout runs in and takes a swing at Raynor, but Raynor ducks, gets behind Fallout, and throws him into a release German Suplex! Breggan is back on his feet. He walks up to Raynor and delivers a huge right hand! Raynor staggers back, but stays on his feet. Breggan delivers three more right hands to Raynor, backing him down into the ropes. Irish whip, Breggan lowers his head…but Raynor applies a standing headscissors as he comes in, lifts Breggan up, and powerbombs him! He then pulls Breggan off of the ground, backs up toward the ropes…SMASH! Raynor goes for the pin…

ONE!

TWO!

…but Nekura dives in and breaks up the count.

*Stevens: CHRIS SMASH! But Nekura breaks up the pin. Man, Raynor was cleaning house!

*Riley: [mocking] Man, Raynor was cleaning house! [/mocking] No wonder your first name is Mark.

Nekura pulls Raynor up and whips him into a corner. He charges in, but Raynor sidesteps him and Nekura hits the turnbuckles. Raynor scoops Nekura up and slams him to the mat, and then he starts to climb the turnbuckles. Raynor gets to the top, but Nekura stands up and pokes him in the eye before he can do anything. Nekura turns around, facing away from Raynor, and then reaches back and grabs his arms. Nekura pulls Raynor forward…and plants him with a Crucifix Iconoclasm! Nekura makes the cover…

ONE!

TWO!

TH-but Raynor gets the shoulder up!

*Stevens: Wow, that was close. Nekura nearly had it there.

*Riley: That count was slow.

*Stevens: The only thing slow around here is you.

Nekura starts to pick Raynor up, but Breggan sneaks up behind Nekura, slaps on a Full Nelson, lifts Nekura up…and slams him to the mat with authority! Breggan then turns his attention to Raynor. He brings Raynor to his feet, and then Gorilla Presses him! Breggan carries Raynor over his head to the side of the ring, and then he throws him to the floor! But as Breggan turns around, Fallout runs up and nails him with a spinning heel kick to the head, sending Breggan over the top rope and out of the ring! Fallout rolls under the ropes to the apron, and then he moves to a nearby corner and starts climbing the turnbuckles. Breggan and Raynor slowly get up. They get to their feet, but then Fallout flies off the top turnbuckle into a Moonsault and takes both men down! But wait! There’s more! Nekura gets back up, and he stumbles his way to the side of the ring. All three men on the outside of the ring are getting up. Fallout is the first one to his feet, and he grabs Breggan and Raynor and holds them in place. Nekura then pulls himself onto the top rope, spinning around as he does, and Fallout moves out of the way as Nekura takes Breggan and Raynor down with the Spaceman Quebrada!

*Stevens: Both of these guys are insane!

*Riley: That was Clantastic!

*Stevens: Must you keep doing that?

*Riley: Doing what?

*Stevens: Clan Plan? Clantastic? Are you trying to be annoying?

*Riley: Of course. That’s what I’m here for.

Fallout grabs Raynor and throws him back into the ring. He rolls into the ring after him. Nekura starts to get up on the outside, feeling the effects of his own move. Fallout pulls Raynor into the corner and then climbs to the middle turnbuckle. Fallout applies a front facelock, leaps into the air…and plants Raynor with a Tornado DDT! Fallout hooks the leg…

ONE!

TWO!

…but Nekura slides into the ring and pulls Fallout off of Raynor! Nekura covers Raynor…

ONE!

TWO!

…but Fallout pulls Nekura off! Nekura stands up, and the two men start to exchange some words.

*Riley: Uh oh.

*Stevens: This had to happen sooner or later.

Nekura and Fallout continue to argue. Raynor slowly gets up. Breggan is getting up on the outside. After a good 30 seconds of arguing, Fallout starts to back down…but then he punches Nekura in the face! Nekura fires right back with a right hand of his own! The two men continue to exchange punches for a moment, and eventually Nekura gains the upper hand. Irish whip, Fallout reverses and takes Nekura down with a Hurricanrana! Nekura gets back up. Fallout nails him with a knife-edge chop! (WHOO!) Another chop! (WHOO!) Irish whip, Nekura reverses, but Fallout nails him with a dropkick right to the head! Down goes Nekura! Fallout gets up. Nekura also stands, slower than Fallout. Fallout kicks him in the gut, slaps on a front facelock…but Nekura punches him in the gut, preventing Fallout from hitting the Meltdown. Nekura punches him two more times, and escapes from the facelock. He then grabs Fallout’s leg with one hand and his arm with the other, lifts him up…AND BRINGS HIM DOWN WITH THE STIGMATA!!! Nekura hooks the leg…

ONE!

TWO!

THR-but Raynor dives in and breaks up the count at the last second!

*Stevens: Damn, that was close!

*Riley: I think I saw Lerrin Breggan breathe a sigh of relief. He couldn’t get in the ring in time to break it up. Good thing Raynor was there. Wait…did I just say having Raynor here was a good thing?

*Stevens: Don’t worry. I’m sure no one else heard you.

Raynor brings Nekura to his feet and delivers a few right hands. Breggan rolls back into the ring. Raynor whips Nekura into the corner and follows him in. Nekura tries to sling over Raynor, but Raynor catches his legs. However, Nekura pushes himself off of the turnbuckle and takes Raynor down with a headscissor takeover! Breggan moves in. As Nekura gets up, Breggan kicks him in the gut, hooks both arms, lifts him up into a Canadian backbreaker…and then sits down and plants Nekura with Face the King! Breggan then turns his attention to Raynor, who is back on his feet. Raynor tries to kick Breggan, but he blocks the kick and then spins Raynor around 180 degrees. He hooks Raynor’s arms, lifts him up…but Raynor slips out of his grasp and flips back onto his feet. He quickly applies a waistlock, and then takes Breggan down with a release German Suplex!

*Stevens: Chris Raynor managed to avoid Kingdom Come, Breggan’s finishing maneuver. Can he capitalize?

*Riley: I hope not.

Nekura and Fallout are slowly getting up. Raynor signals to the fans that the end is near! He starts to approach Breggan, but Breggan grabs the leg of the referee. The referee orders him to let go, but Breggan holds on as if his life depended on it. Suddenly, someone races down the ramp and slides into the ring. It’s Sacred! And he has a steel chair in hand! Raynor turns around…AND GETS NAILED WITH THE STEEL CHAIR! Down he goes! WHAM! Down goes Nekura! WHAM! Down goes Fallout! Sacred slides out of the ring and leaves the arena as quickly as he came.

*Stevens: What was that!?

*Riley: That was Sacred raising some hell! That’s what that was!

*Stevens: I can’t believe it! Lerrin Breggan is going to steal one thanks to Sacred!

Breggan lets go of the referee. Raynor is the closest one at hand, so he covers him…

ONE!

TWO!

THR-NO!!! Raynor gets the shoulder up! Breggan can’t believe it! He yells, “That was three!” But the referee holds up two fingers. Breggan quickly crawls over to Nekura and covers him…

ONE!

TWO!

THR-but Nekura kicks out as well! Breggan still can’t believe it! Breggan covers Fallout, the last one left…

ONE!

TWO!

THR-but Breggan still can’t get a three-count! Fallout gets the shoulder up also! Breggan pounds his fists on the mat in anger!

*Stevens: Unbelievable! I thought Breggan had this one in the bag!

*Riley: All three of them kicked out. What are the odds?

Breggan stands up, with a very angry look in his eyes. He notices that Raynor is starting to get up. Breggan grabs Raynor and lifts him into a Torture Rack. Then he spins him around in position for a powerbomb…and slams him to the mat with the Royal Decision! But he decides not to go for a pin. Instead, he grabs Nekura, who is also trying to get up. Breggan pulls him into a standing headscissors and then points at the side of the ring. The referee tries to tell him not to do it, but Breggan tells him where to stick his suggestion. He lifts Nekura up for the powerbomb, runs to the side of the ring…and throws him over the top rope to the outside with the King’s Command!

*Stevens: Oh my god! Nekura just got powerbombed from the ring to the floor!

*Riley: Well, he’s done.

*Stevens: You think?

Fallout is holding onto the ropes, trying to pull himself up. Breggan walks up to him, grabs him by the neck, and pulls him away from the ropes. The referee tells him to stop the choke, but Breggan is too busy with his fit of rage to pay any attention. He finally releases the choke, and puts Fallout into a standing headscissors. Breggan lifts him up for the powerbomb…but Fallout counters with a Hurricanrana into a pin…

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!!!

DING DING DING

Breggan kicks out, but he’s a quarter of a second too late! “Scum of the Earth” begins to play. Fallout rolls out of the ring.

*Funyon: The winner of this match, and #1 contender for the SWF ICTV Championship…FALLOUT!!!

Breggan looks at the referee in disbelief! He continues to argue with/threaten bodily harm to the referee, but he still insists that Breggan’s shoulders were down for a three-count. Breggan looks outside the ring at Fallout and yells some obscenities at him. Fallout returns the vulgar language.

*Stevens: I don’t believe it! Fallout somehow survived Lerrin Breggan’s rage and came up with the victory!

*Riley: Amazing, Mark. A-freakin-mazing. Go Clan!

*Stevens: Speaking of the Clan…

Fallout walks up to Nekura, who is in considerable pain after taking the powerbomb from hell, but conscious. They stare at each other for a moment. And then…Fallout sticks out his hand. Nekura lies there for a few more seconds, soaking up the pain, but he finally reaches out and grabs Fallout’s hand, and Fallout helps him up. Tom Flesher runs out from backstage, and he helps his fellow Clan members limp their way up the ramp while Breggan continues to complain to the referee.

*Stevens: I guess everything’s okay with the Clan for now.

*Riley: Of course they’re okay. They knew it was going to be every man for himself. They knew only one man could win.

*Stevens: One person could win.

*Riley: Shut up, you!

*Stevens: What a match that was. And we're just getting started!

July 29, 2002

As the hook line of "Let's Start A War" by The Exploited plays in the background, we return to a full-arena pan shot and show the Key Arena in Seattle, Washington. Fans are shown holding signs such as "Chilly Chilly Gang Bang," "I'm Here To See Flesher," "I'm Here To See Magnifico," and "I'm Here To See Misty." Finally, three fans are shown sitting next to each other, holding signs that say, respectively, "Carnivan!" "Clanival!" and "Let's Call The Whole Thing Thoth!" With that, the SmarkTron shows an explosion, and then a timer set at 30:00 appears on the top of the screen. Underneath it, photos of El Luchadore Magnifico and Tom Flesher appear, Magnifico wearing the Light Heavyweight Title around his waist and Flesher grinning with the US Title slung over his shoulder. The phrases "ULTIMATE SUBMISSION," "LIGHT HEAVYWEIGHT TITLE" and "ELM vs. TOM" scroll across the bottom of the screen as the thirty-minute timer flashes. With that, the camera pans over to the announcers' table, where "Grand Slam" Mark Stevens and Bobby Riley sit, each with their beverage of choice - Mark with a beer, Bobby with a big cup of coffee.

"Fans, welcome back to SWF Ground Zero," says Stevens, "and what a night we have shaping up! We've already seen an exciting four-way match in which the number-one contender to the ICTV Champion was decided, and coming up after this match we'll see Creative Control's Jay Dawg defend his Hardcore Gamers Title -"

Riley sighs exasperatedly.

"What's wrong, Bobby?"

"You called it the Hardcore Gamers Title, you ass. It hasn't been called that in months."

"Bobby, it was the Hardcore Gamers belt for my whole career. I think the fans will forgive me if I slip up every now and then."

"No way! Get the Gamers out!"

Stevens pauses, then shakes his head and decides against pursuing that line of discussion any further. "Coming up next, though, we have an Ultimate Submission match in which the Midnight Carnival's El Luchadore Magnifico defends his Light Heavyweight Title against the current United States Champion, Tom Flesher. In fact, they've been building to this ever since Magnifico made his return to Storm and walked in on Tom claiming to be the SWF's top light heavyweight while talking to Z!"

"And what's wrong with that?"

"Well, first of all, Magnifico's got the gold around his waist, and second, Flesher got clobbered with a tequila bottle after he told Magnifico that he'd carry him to a good match!"

"Then again, on this week's Smarkdown, Flesher hammered ELM with a Boilermaker. That should have been the end of it, since, as Flesher said, it took care of all HIS aggression. Hell, Mark, he was even willing to let the Luchadore keep the Light Heavyweight Title!"

"Well, Bobby, I think Tom wants the Light Heavyweight strap more than he's letting on. Why else would Flesher, the current United States Champion, actively pursue a pay-per-view match against Magnifico?"

"Because he's superior," says Bobby, right on cue. "He really, really wants the Random Mexican to look good, especially since the Clan and the Midnight Carnival are allied. Out of the sheer goodness of his heart, he's decided to carry the SWF's favorite illegal immigrant to a watchable match and maybe even win him some fans."

"Bobby, does it hurt when your thoughts rattle around in that big, empty head of yours?"

"Pardon me?"

"Never mind. Let's go to Funyon!"

Funyon climbs into the ring, wearing an unusually subdued tuxedo, along with a camouflage bow tie and cummerbund. He says, "Ladies and gentlemen, the following match will be under Ultimate Submission rules, with a thirty-minute time limit, and it is for the SWF Light Heavyweight Championship! The rules are simple: The wrestler to accumulate the most submissions within the time limit will be the winner. Any count-outs or disqualifications will be subtracted from the offending wrestler's submission total. And now, fans of the SWF, let's get ready for ULTIMATE SUBMISSION!" The fans pop like Joe Theisman's leg as the lights go dim.

The opening strains of The Doors' "Tell All The People" begin to play over the PA, and two pillars of pyro spray out next to the entrance. After a moment, Tom Flesher steps out, clad in his Boilermaker t-shirt, cargo jeans and Doc Marten boots, with the US Title slung over his shoulder. He pauses on the apron, smiling beatifically, and waves to the crowd, which responds by booing him loudly. He struts slowly to the ring, waving and patting the US belt, and finally climbing up the stairs and into the center of the ring.

As he enters, Funyon says, "Currently in the ring, from Buffalo, New York, and weighing in at 213 pounds..." Flesher grins at Funyon, who sighs and produces an index card from his pocket. The crowd, knowing what's coming, begins to boo and gradually crescendos as Funyon goes through the introduction. "A member of the most dominant force in the SWF, the Clan... the most technically-sound athlete ever to step into an SWF ring, the man you'd love to bring home to Mom, your little brother wants to be him, your little sister has a crush on him, and... wow, this is going to get you in trouble... even Misty Rivers is thinking twice about Stubby now that she's met him... I'd go on, but Funyon's barely literate as- HEY!" Funyon shoots a glare at Flesher, who smiles and nods. "He's the Man, the Myth, the Legend, the Eighth Wonder of the Modern World and the SWF United States Champion, the top light heavyweight in the SWF and the NEXT SWF Light Heavyweight Champion, he is the Superior One, bow down to the glory that is TOM FLESHER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Flesher bows deeply as the crowd boos, and as he straightens back up, he gets hit in the head with an empty beer cup, which he promptly no-sells.

"What a flaming egotist!" Stevens is, as always, easily upset by Flesher's antics. "Can you believe the sheer arrogance he's displaying?"

Riley, however, is too busy whistling the fanfare from "Tell All The People" to respond.

Suddenly....

UNO!

DOS!

TRES!

CUATRO!

With each word, an explosion of orange pyro explodes from each turnbuckle, and the fans pop louder as the count continues. As "Mission Trip To Mexico" by Bunch of Believers starts to blast out over the PA, El Luchadore Magnifico bursts out from behind the curtain and is greeted with a shower of cheers as the camera flashes reflect off his Light Heavyweight Championship belt. Magnifico waves his Mexican flag excitedly and makes his way down the ramp and toward the ring.

Funyon announces, "And his opponent... representing the Midnight Carnival, and originally from Mexico City... competing at 190 pounds, the current SWF Light Heavyweight Champion and considered by most to be the top light heavyweight not only in the SWF, but the world... EL LUCHADORE MAGNIFICO!"

Magnifico slaps a few fans up, then props his flag up against the apron and slides into the ring. He mounts the second turnbuckle and pumps his fist in the air, playing to the fans for a while. "Wow," says Stevens, "the Luchadore has these fans eating out of the palm of his hand!"

"Yeah, but two to one they'll all get gas."

As the music fades out, Magnifico jumps down to the mat and removes his Light Heavyweight belt. Referee Eddy Long takes the microphone and the belt, and says, "Gentlemen, you're aware of the rules. For the fans' benefit, there will be an icon in the top left-hand corner of the SmarkTron and the pay-per-view feed that will list the time remaining and the number of decisions for each competitor. We'll also be using the scoreboard that the Sonics use. At Flesher's request, he will be 'Home,' and Magnifico will be 'Visitor."

With that, Flesher waves and winks at Magnifico, who immediately catches on and reaches over to slap Flesher with all his might. The loud *SMACK* echoes through the arena, and Eddy Long immediately dives out of the way and calls for the bell.

DING DING DING!!!!!!!!!!

"That's just like Flesher! Going out of his way to get one more jab in on Magnifico!" Stevens sighs angrily.

"What?" Bobby does his best to sound confused and stifle his girlish giggling. "It's true! Flesher's the hometown hero in Seattle."

"He's from Buffalo!"

"And Mags is from Mexico. Don't make me draw you a chart, Mark."

The 30-minute timer begins to tick down as Flesher reels backwards, caught by surprise. Magnifico follows him, cracking his hands across his opponent's chest with a series of knife-edge chops.

SMACK! ... WHOO!

Finally, Magnifico backs Flesher into the corner and nails him with one last, super-stiff chop.

SMACK!!!!!!!!!!!!! ... WHOO!

Flesher clutches his chest as referee Eddy Long interjects himself and forces Magnifico to back away, giving Tom time for a quick breather. Mark Stevens notes, "It looks like El Luchadore Magnifico's getting the upper hand early in this match. He's very angry with Flesher for many reasons, not the least of which is pretending that the Light Heavyweight Title means nothing in the SWF. I think that little 'Visitor' incident may be what it takes to get Magnifico focused."

Riley responds, in his standard patronizing tone of voice, "Or, Mark... and you ARE a mark... it could distract Magnifico and make him work sloppy, allowing Flesher to catch him where he needs to."

Flesher steps forward out of the corner, where Magnifico waits in the center. They circle around, with Magnifico seeming satisfied that his opening beating on Flesher served to psychologically set him off balance. Magnifico initiates a lockup, and the wrestlers spend a moment or two jockeying for position before Flesher takes advantage of the position and locks on a side headlock. He cranks the hold. Magnifico attempts to shoot him off to the ropes, but Flesher plants his feet and stops the whip. Holding Magnifico's head with one hand, Flesher plays to the crowd with the other by waving and pointing to himself. Once again, Magnifico tries to send Flesher to the ropes, but Flesher stops the motion. He looks down, sees an opportunity, and with his free hand starts to playfully noogie the Mexican luchadore. "Can you believe that?" asks Stevens. "Flesher's just trying to embarrass El Luchadore Magnifico!"

"Well, come on, do you blame him? He's got this match all but won already... I mean, it's HIS stipulation. He knows that, and he's so confident that he's going to win that he feels he can waste the thirty minutes by mocking Magnifico. I think it's a sound strategy, personally."

"How so? This ought to be good."

"Well," says Riley, sounding like an experienced announcer, "if Flesher can waste the entire time period mocking Magnifico, we'll go into a sudden-death overtime period. Not only will he be able to make Magnifico submit at will, but this pay-per-view's FPM quotient will rise with every minute of overtime."

"FPM quotient?"

"Flesher Per Minute. It's a complex formula, but it comes down to the idea that Flesher = Ratings."

"You're an idiot."

The fans burst into a chorus of boos as Flesher continues the Noogie of Doom, and Flesher looks back up to wave to the crowd. When he does, Magnifico takes advantage of the moment of relaxed pressure and nails a lightning-quick backdrop suplex! Flesher hits the mat hard and, more confused and surprised than injured, rolls away and tries to find his bearings in one of the corners. Magnifico jumps back to his feet and charges into the corner, hitting Flesher in the back with a dropkick! Flesher lurches forward and slumps over in the corner. Magnifico spins him around and, after taking a moment to decide what to do, settles on...

SMACK! ... WHOO!

and finally ends the series with a dropkick to Flesher's chest! Flesher collapses into the corner, and Magnifico backs out to the center of the ring. As Flesher pulls himself up to his feet, he looks over to the scoreboard, which reads "28:34." Seeing that he's only a minute and a half into the match, he sighs and practically collapses again.

"Flesher may be in WAY over his head," says Stevens. "He's never worked a match this long, and especially not against an opponent of the ability that El Luchadore Magnifico brings to the table."

"Unfortunately, Mark, you're only embarrassing yourself. Flesher has defeated some of the top workers in the SJL and SWF, including TNT, 'Deathwish' Danny Williams on three occasions and Ash Ketchum."

"Magnifico has a distinct experience AND ability advantage, like it or not. He's been around much longer than Flesher, held more titles and beat better wrestlers."

"Mark, you're forgetting one important factor."

"What's that?"

"He's a wetback."

Stevens sighs. "You and I both know that El Luchadore Magnifico is here legally, on a work visa provided by the SWF."

"Have you ever seen his passport?"

"No, I..."

"Neither have I. Case closed."

Riley grins smugly to himself as Flesher locks up with Magnifico. Both men are moving slowly, looking almost afraid to go for anything. The wrestlers tussle a bit, with Flesher jerking Magnifico forward to look for a takedown and Magnifico attempting to put Flesher in position to strike him and set up a high spot. Flesher backs away for a moment to create space, then shoots in and attempts to grab Magnifico's left leg. The Luchadore sees it coming and braces on Flesher's shoulders, sprawling back and kicking his leg high into the air to swing it out of Flesher's way. As a result, Flesher ends up on his knees with a handful of air. Fluidly, Magnifico continues the kicking motion, swinging the leg back toward Flesher and kicking him stiffly in the chest! Flesher stays on his knees, grabbing his chest, and Magnifico pulls him to his feet. Without stopping, he follows through into a textbook snap suplex, slamming Flesher to the mat. Both men roll through, Flesher a bit more slowly, and come back to their feet.

Flesher once again tries to create space, and then drops down and shoots in for a double-leg takedown. Magnifico once again sprawls backwards and avoids the shot, but isn't able to counter as Flesher backs out immediately. Magnifico steps forward and throws a quick punch, which Flesher blocks. Tom responds by throwing a right-hand palm strike, which Magnifico blocks by throwing his arms up to his face. As soon as Magnifico blocks the shotei, Flesher throws a stiff kick to his left knee with his Doc Marten boot. Magnifico jumps backward, and as he does, Flesher kicks him in the knee once more, then jumps up and nails him with a dropkick to the kneecap! Magnifico falls to the mat, and Flesher moves in to try to grab the leg. "This is the route I assumed the Superior One would take," says Stevens. "He's very good with working the legs, and to deviate in a match like this would be suicidal."

"Oh, I beg to differ. Flesher could also simply concentrate on the neck and drop that hombre on his head ten, twelve times until he cried like a little girl."

"I believe that may be overstating the case, Bobby, especially considering that Magnifico has dominated the first few minutes of this match, up to this point."

Flesher grabs Magnifico's leg and attempts to drop an elbow into the side of the knee, but Magnifico grabs his head before he can finish the move. He pulls Flesher over and hooks the leg into a small package! Flesher, thinking quickly, does absolutely nothing to fight the hold, and Magnifico holds onto it for a few seconds before he realizes...

"It's a submission match, you idiot!" Riley, as we ALL know, is always right. "Magnifico's got no talent!" Or not.

Magnifico rolls off Flesher and waits for him to get to his feet. Flesher, content with the match's stipulation, takes his time getting to his feet, pausing to crack his neck before he walks to the center. Then, he rolls each shoulder out, and cracks his neck again, and cracks his back...

"Flesher's stalling, apparently because he thinks he's going to dominate the match."

"Oh, don't accuse him of anything. He just wants to be in top physical condition before he continues."

Flesher points to the ref and makes a "T" signal with his hands.

"Bobby, he just asked the referee for an injury time-out."

"No, he's just saying 'T' for 'Tom.' Making sure he's wrestling the right opponent."

Finally, with everything cracked properly, Flesher pauses once more to look over at the timer. 26:00. He grins and says, "Hey, can we get a few more minutes?" The referee looks confused. "Come on, man, can we get a few more minutes added on? I'm really having fun here!"

"Geez, Bobby, he's just stalling for time!"

"Prove it."

Flesher says, "Well, if we can't ADD a few minutes, can we cut a few off?"

Steven looks over and says, "Bobby?"

Riley turns red and scowls. "Shut up."

"But Bobby, he just-"

"SHUT UP."

"Well, whatev-"

"SHUT THE HELL UP."

Riley sits still, pouting. Flesher stalls for a moment more, until Magnifico looks over, looking fed up, and decides to simply attack. He leaps into the air and throws a beautiful spring-loaded dropkick, catching Flesher completely by surprise and sending him spilling over the top rope! Flesher lands on the concrete and barely has time to get to his feet before Magnifico jumps onto the top strand, bounces off into a somersault and nails him with a springboard senton! Magnifico and Flesher land as a unit, with Flesher collapsing and Magnifico looking slightly injured for his own part.

"That senton may have taken quite a bit out of Magnifico," says Stevens. "Springboard and impact moves tend to injure the wrestler doing the move slightly, but it's worth it because it injures the recipient even further."

"Why would you do a move that hurts you?"

"Bobby, I JUST said that..."

"Well blah, blah, blah. You expect me to listen to everything you say?"

"You, sir, have the attention span of an overly caffeinated toddler."

Riley shakes his head quickly. "Sorry, did you say something? I was watching that girl in the front row."

Magnifico shakes off the impact and reenters the ring, followed after a few moments by Flesher. As Flesher gets to his feet, the Light Heavyweight Champion nails him with a running forearm that sends him back to the mat. With the Superior One stunned, the Luchadore grabs him and pulls him back to his feet before slapping on a chicken wing. Fluidly, the Luchadore lifts Flesher and nails him with a chicken wing jawbreaker! Stevens declares, "Montezuma's Revenge!" as Flesher is sent reeling. Riley giggles, and Stevens asks, "What's so funny?"

"Montezuma's Revenge! Don't you know what that is?"

"Er... I think we all do, Bobby."

"Wasn't Luchadore just talking about the time you put Ex-Lax in his..."

"Just call the match."

"But Montezuma's Revenge is..."

"JUST CALL THE MATCH."

Magnifico takes advantage of Flesher's stunned state and grabs him to quickly whip him to the ropes. As Flesher rebounds, the Magnificent One drops flat to the mat and executes a drop toehold! His opponent hits the mat, and Magnifico continues the motion to slap on a crossface!

"Sangria Stretch! El Luchadore Magnifico hits the Sangria Stretch!"

"Ah, Flesher's too tough to submit to that!"

Magnifico cranks the modified STF hold and Eddy Long drops down to check Flesher's status. Almost immediately, Flesher taps the mat repeatedly.

TAP TAP TAP!!!!!!!

DING DING DING!!!!

Funyon notes the time, and declares, "With seven minutes, thirty seconds elapsed, El Luchadore Magnifico secures a submission! The score is now El Luchadore Magnifico with one fall, Tom Flesher with zero, with twenty-two minutes, thirty seconds remaining."

"What the hell was Flesher thinking?" Riley's jaw is practically on the floor. "Why would he give up a submission that quickly?"

"It's actually a fairly sound and common strategic technique, especially this early in the match. Flesher's giving up a submission now, knowing that he still has over twenty minutes to make up for it. He's avoiding being injured while fighting a submission that Magnifico would only tighten further during the fight, and as a submission specialist, Flesher plans to make up for it later in the match."

Riley ponders this for a moment, and then says, "God, he's just so far above all of us."

"Like I said, Bobby, it's a fairly common technique."

"But he does it BETTER!"

Magnifico gets back up to his feet and moves to the center of the ring, obviously pumped after securing the first submission of the match. Flesher gets up fairly slowly, but a notch quicker than he'd been moving earlier in the match. He meets Magnifico in the center and teases a lock-up, but backs away before Magnifico accepts. Magnifico steps forward, but before he can initiate a lockup, Flesher kicks him in the knee, then does it again. When Magnifico fails to fall down, Flesher kicks him once more and then dropkicks the leg out from under him. The Luchadore falls to the mat, and Flesher stays on his feet.

Magnifico tries to get back up, but before he can, Flesher dropkicks his knee once more to prevent it. With both men on the mat, Flesher locks a scissors grip around the left knee to hold Magnifico down to the canvas, then moves over to his opponent. Keeping the scissors grip intact, Flesher mounts Magnifico and swings his right leg around to lock up a double grapevine. With Magnifico thusly immobilized, Flesher reaches around and locks up a Dragon Sleeper, securing the Superior Stretch Beta! Realizing he's in trouble, Magnifico immediately scurries for the ropes and wraps his hand around the bottom rope. Eddy Long counts "ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!" and on four, Flesher breaks the hold and backs away. Magnifico cracks his neck and pulls himself back up to his feet.

"We haven't seen Flesher break out the Superior Stretch Beta yet, but Magnifico knew about it and knew enough not to fight it," says Stevens. "It looked absolutely vicious, and you have to wonder if it's going to come into play later."

"Oooh. Foreshadowy."

Magnifico moves back towards Flesher, who throws another dropkick to the knee before he can get within attacking range. Magnifico falls back to the mat, and Flesher mounts him again in the amateur-style referee's position. The Light Heavyweight Champion struggles for a moment, and Flesher calms him by nailing him with a stiff palm strike to the back of the head. With his opponent stunned, Flesher drags Magnifico to the center of the ring and rolls him to his back. He quickly drops an elbow into the left knee, wrenching it out of position, and then repeats the motion two, three, four and five times. He lifts the leg up and locks on an ankle lock, torquing it to the point where Magnifico flips over to release the pressure. Flesher twists Magnifico's leg off to the side to go for a step-over toehold, but the Luchadore counters by mule-kicking backwards and nailing Flesher hard in the stomach. Flesher doubles over, and Magnifico shimmies back to scissor Flesher's left leg. He swings around and executes a drop toehold, then attempts to lock up the crossface and another Sangria Stretch. Flesher catches on, though, and quickly throws two jabbing elbows back to fend off the crossface lock before he hits the mat. With Magnifico on top and his leg still scissored, Flesher spins out to the side and reverses the drop toehold into a modified stepover toehold. He lunges forward and locks up a crossface to cinch the STF! Flesher locks his hands as tightly as he can, but before he can force the hold, Magnifico reaches down and taps the mat.

TAP TAP TAP!!!!!!!!!!

DING DING DING!!!!!!!

Funyon once again takes note of the time and announces, "With ten minutes, twenty-four seconds elapsed, Tom Flesher registers a submission! The score is now tied at one decision apiece, with nineteen minutes, thirty-six seconds remaining!"

"There's the same strategy that Flesher employed earlier," Stevens points out, "this time being used by El Luchadore Magnifico."

"Pfffft," says Riley. The spittle factor is huge. "He's just a pussy."

"But a few minutes ago, when Flesher did the same thing, you said it was an amazing tactic."

"That's because Flesher did it! He's a veritable ring general."

"What about Magnifico?"

"Wetback."

Flesher hears the bell, but refuses to release the hold. Dumbfounded, it takes Eddy Long a minute to realize that the match is continuing, and after a moment or two he drops down to the mat and starts his four-count on Flesher. He counts "ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!" and finally, at just a shade before five, Flesher releases the STF and backs away. Magnifico painfully shakes his left leg out, then pushes himself up and puts most of his weight on his right leg. Tom Flesher attempts to attack Magnifico, but Eddy Long refuses to let him get near his opponent until he gets to his feet. Once Magnifico is on his feet and somewhat stable, Long backs away and lets Flesher attack like a shark smelling blood.

Unfortunately, El Luchadore Magnifico has other plans.

As soon as he sees Flesher coming at him, Magnifico steps forward and hits his opponent across the chest with a hard knife-edge chop! He goes for a second chop, but Flesher blocks the chop and throws a palm strike, which Magnifico blocks. Operating largely on instinct, the Luchadore quickly swings his left leg out of the way to avoid the kick to the knee that Flesher throws as soon as the shotei is blocked. Magnifico catches Flesher off-balance as he throws the kick and immediately trips him and sends him to his back. Flesher spins and comes back up, but as soon as he does, Magnifico locks up and catches him with a snap suplex! Flesher hits the mat hard, and as soon as he gets back up, Magnifico passes by him and grabs his left arm. In one fluid motion, the Mexican superstar throws on a Fujiwara armbar, taking Flesher down and holding him to the mat.

"There's a technique we don't see much from Magnifico," says Stevens. "It's not often that he's forced to rely on submission holds to win a match, and when he does, we generally only see him use the Sangria Stretch." Magnifico looks slightly uncomfortable in the armbar, and as Flesher wriggles around, it's evident that he isn't quite sure how to recounter much of what his opponent might do. "Magnifico looks like he's having some trouble staying in position, but he's locking the hold up as tightly as he can in order to prevent any countering. Unfortunately, Flesher countered the Sangria Stretch earlier in the match, so Magnifico has to go back to the drawing board, as it were."

"Well, the problem is this. All of the wrestling schools here in the States teach in English, and all of the schools in Mexico specialize in unnecessary flip-floppery."

"Magnifico is an excellent mat wrestler. He's just a bit rusty. AND, I'll have you know he speaks excellent English."

In the ring, Magnifico jabbers excitedly in Spanish as a way to psych Flesher out.

"You know, 'luchadore' translates roughly to 'trapeze artist?'"

"Oh, will you stop!"

On the mat, Flesher attempts to spin out, but Magnifico, growing slightly surer with each passing moment, responds by further torquing the arm. Flesher grimaces in pain, showing the sheer discomfort of the submission hold. Tom reaches under to attempt a wristlock, only to have Magnifico twist the arm with all his strength for one quick second. Flesher recoils in pain, screaming at the twinges he feels in his shoulder. Eddy Long drops down to his knees to check whether Flesher wants to tap, but he opts not to. Instead, Flesher begins lunging toward the ropes. He works hard to pull himself backward and hyperextends his leg to try to cover the last few inches, but can't seem to quite get it. Magnifico sees a submission coming and adjusts his position slightly in order to further push the arm past its normal limits.

Stevens interjects. "You have to wonder what's going through Magnifico's mind at this point. He's largely improvising a strategy, and at this point it looks like he's about to secure another submission."

"Why doesn't Flesher tap again and make it up later?"

"Well, my easily riled friend, it's moving toward the midpoint of the match. The score is tied now, but the time it takes to get a submission is being compressed into the remaining time. When Flesher and Magnifico tapped initially, they were each looking at around twenty minutes to gain a submission. Now, it's moving toward fifteen minutes, and each man is getting more fatigued."

"But Flesher's superior."

"Perhaps, Bobby, but he's human like you and I, and he can't do his job with only one arm."

"Shut the fuck up. Don't tell Flesher how to do his job!"

"I'm just pointing these things out for the benefit of the fans, Bobby."

"Pfffft. Like you know what you're talking about."

Stevens debates responding, but decides that most of the fans know the reply anyways and opts not to point out his status as one of the most dominant wrestlers in the history of the federation. Meanwhile, Flesher has jerked and crawled his way over just far enough to hook the toe of his boot over the bottom rope. Eddy Long gives Magnifico a count of "ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!" and finally breaks the hold. Flesher attempts to push himself back to his feet, but fails miserably as his left arm refuses to cooperate. Magnifico takes a page from Flesher's book, throwing a sitdown dropkick that nails Flesher squarely in the left shoulder. The US Champ collapses back to the mat, holding his arm, and hooks his leg over the bottom rope to avoid being further victimized.

Flesher reaches up, as Magnifico backs away cooperatively, and he uses the ropes as a crutch to pull himself to his feet. Magnifico moves toward him, methodically, despite a slight limp on the left side. Flesher tries to avoid a lockup, but Magnifico grabs him by the left arm and wrenches it quickly. Magnifico spins around and, taking a page from the book of "Deathwish" Danny Williams, jerks Flesher's arm over his shoulder. Flesher cries out in pain, and Magnifico responds by jerking the arm over his shoulder again. He repeats the motion again, a fourth time, a fifth and finally a sixth time.

"Magnifico seems to be getting more confident, as he's working in a more focused manner at really beating on Flesher's left arm. In fact, Bobby, that's probably the way to go, since it's much easier to work the arm than the leg."

"Oh yeah, hot shot?"

"Of course. There's much more muscle mass on the leg than there is on the arm, and it's therefore harder to break down or bar against the joint."

"Yeah, well... Flesher works the legs, so that must be the way to go."

Stevens rolls his eyes. "Whatever you say, Booby. Whatever you say."

With Flesher's arm sufficiently softened up, Magnifico spins back around and jerks it once more, this time as the precursor to an Irish whip. Flesher rebounds, and when he reaches the center, Magnifico catches him and throws him over the shoulder with an armdrag, then steps over and locks up a pumphandle armbar. Flesher's face falls into a look of sheer despair as he struggles against the hold. He wriggles and squirms, trying to loosen the pressure of the armbar, and not succeeding. After a moment or two, he sighs and jerks his arm backwards, nailing Magnifico stiffly in the groin with his elbow. The Mexican immigrant releases the hold, doubling over in pain, as Flesher pulls his arm back into his body. Clearly distressed, he looks over to the scoreboard. Home, 1. Visitor, 1. Time remaining, 14:12. He sighs as Magnifico attempts to regain his balance.

"What unethical treatment of the testicles," says Stevens, clearly offended. "I'm not sure why the referee didn't at least warn Flesher!"

"Bah, put the whistle away. Let 'em play and so forth."

"Bobby, he's not WEARING a whistle."

"Good! He ALREADY put it away!"

Flesher rolls away and sits in the corner nearest to the press table. Clearly upset and favoring his left arm, he motions for the referee to come over. The camera zooms in and catches Flesher saying, "Listen, can we get him checked for foreign objects? I think he's got something stashed in his tights that I hit when I was elbowing out." Incredulously, the referee goes over to Magnifico, still doubled over in pain after the blatant low blow, and Flesher slides out of the ring to the announcers' table. He looks up at Bobby, smiling beatifically, and Bobby carefully takes a sip of his coffee before nonchalantly setting the cup on the floor. Stevens looks over and says, "Bobby?"

"Yes Mark?"

"Bobby, what did you just do with your coffee cup?"

"Oh, it was empty, so I threw it out."

Flesher pats Riley on the leg thankfully, then gets back up and slides into the ring not without some difficulty. Still favoring his arm, he pulls himself up onto the apron and gets to his feet. The referee, meanwhile is finishing up a thorough check of Magnifico's pants, periodically saying, "Well, he requested the search, so I have to make it" and "It's just unethical not to treat this with concern." Finally, as Long drops down to check the Luchadore's boots, Flesher strides over and taps his opponent to get his attention. When Magnifico looks up, Flesher thrusts his head forward and blows a mouthful of coffee into the champion's face! Magnifico reels backwards, the acidic caffeine vehicle burning his eyes, as Long stands up and shouts "GET BACK HERE SO I CAN CHECK YOUR OTHER BOOT!" Flesher pays no attention and charges forward, nailing Magnifico in the face with a stiff Yakuza kick!

Stevens, appalled, shouts, "I HOPE YOU'RE HAPPY WITH YOURSELF!"

Riley, sounding genuinely confused, asks, "Who, me?"

"You just changed the climate of this match by letting Flesher use your coffee!"

"What?"

"Coffee mist, you idiot!"

"Oh, did that happen a few seconds ago? I couldn't see anything, since my monitor went out."

"WE'RE WATCHING THE SAME MONITOR!"

Riley stammers, "Well... er... I had to make sure my coffee cup went in the trash can, so I looked away for a minute."

"Bobby, it's right there on the floor!"

"See? Then it's a good thing I looked away."

Riley leans down and gingerly picks the mostly-full styrofoam cup up off the floor, then drops it into the trash can.

"That was full!"

"There's a fly in it."

Magnifico collapses into the corner, and Flesher boots him in the face once more before backing away and grabbing the top rope. He swings backward, and when he rebounds, he drags the sole of his boot across Magnifico's face. Flesher once again swings back and scrapes his boot across the Light Heavyweight Champion's face, sending droplets of the java flying onto the camera lens. He rears back and swings forward once more, wanting to embarrass El Luchadore Magnifico as much as possible before he lets him out of the corner. Flesher backs away, and Magnifico covers his face to try to rub off the pain. In the process, of course, he removes all evidence of the coffee mist.

But them's the breaks.

Magnifico gets back up to his feet, and Flesher immediately charges in with a dropkick to the knee. The Luchadore immediately collapses to the mat, holding his knee, as Flesher backs away. With Magnifico on the mat, Flesher looks over to the scoreboard. Home, 1. Visitor, 1. 11:58 remaining.

Magnifico pulls himself back up to his feet, only for Flesher to charge at him and nail him with a running shotei. Magnifico falls backwards, his head slamming against the turnbuckle. Flesher struts in and pulls Magnifico, obviously knocked silly by the blow, out toward the center of the ring. Flesher, favoring his arm slightly, attempts to lock his hands around Magnifico's waist, but pauses.

"What's he doing?!" Riley is genuinely distressed.

"Looks like he may be having trouble getting the grip correctly, due to the beating that Magnifico's been laying on his left arm."

Flesher readjusts his grip, but by that point Magnifico has regained some of his senses and has the presence of mind to throw an elbow down onto Flesher's tender left arm! Flesher steps back, crying out and holding the arm, and Magnifico follows up by spinning around and nailing him in the face with a roundhouse kick! Flesher, staggered by the blow, doesn't respond until Magnifico jumps up and nails him in the chest with a dropkick. Flesher collapses, and Magnifico instinctively drops down onto him in a lateral press, then looks up at the referee. Long shouts, "It's a submission match!" Embarrassed that he once again wasted time by going for a pin, Magnifico climbs off Flesher and starts toward the turnbuckle. He turns around, though, and looks suspiciously at Flesher... then drops a quick elbow into his chest to keep him down!

With that, everyone's favorite completely legal immigrant walks over to the ropes, climbs up and perches himself on the top rope. The fans burst into a rousing cheer as he raises his arms, then leaps into the air. He pumps his knees and elbows together, then lands hard on Flesher with a frog splash! Flesher sits up on impact, expelling a violent burst of air that's neither a cry of pain nor any kind of speech, then flattens back out. Magnifico, for his part, rolls away holding his ribs.

"Did you see the impact on that frog splash? It may not have been a wise choice for El Luchadore Magnifico to attempt a move that would take so much out of him at this point in the match," says Stevens, sounding nervous.

"Heh heh heh.... dumbass..." Riley, as always, can be counted on to reduce the foibles of any of the Midnight Carnival to a Beavis and Butthead reference.

Eddy Long looks down to the mat and sees both men laying on the mat. A bit confused, he does what he does best: enforce the rules strictly, almost to a fault.

ONE!

"You know, Bobby, I'm not sure what counting these guys out will accomplish," notes Stevens.

TWO!

"Shows what you know."

THREE!

"What concerns me is that if both men get counted down, it will still leave the score tied..."

FOUR!

Stevens continues, "... and reduce each wrestler's count to zero."

FIVE!

Fortunately, Magnifico starts to stir over by the ropes.

SIX!

Like a baby taking his first steps, the Mexican superstar uses the cables to steady himself as Flesher rolls over.

SEVEN!

Magnifico gets all the way to his feet, then turns around and starts moving toward Flesher. Long wipes his brow, looking up at the scoreboard that reads Home, 1. Visitor, 1. 9:45, time remaining.

As Magnifico walks toward Flesher, the challenge looks as if he's not fully there. Magnifico walks a little lighter, clearly pleased that Flesher is so badly injured. Fatigued and starting to get sloppy as it is, Magnifico lets his guard down as he gets closer to his opponent, who looks up and grins at him for a split second before lunging forward and grabbing the left leg. Magnifico goes spilling to the mat as the crowd reacts.

"He was playing possum!"

"God bless that man!"

"What a rotten son of a bitch!"

"What a shining example of ring psychology!"

Flesher stands back up, then looks out to the booing crowd. He shrugs and shouts, "You didn't really expect a frog splash to kill me, did you?" With that, he drops an elbow into the side of Magnifico's knee. The Light Heavyweight Champion cries out in pain, hurting badly due to the continued legwork throughout the match. Flesher stands back up and teases dropping another elbow into the knee, but instead opts to step over into an ankle lock. Magnifico writhes in pain on the mat as Flesher torques his ankle beyond its healthy limit.

"You know, Bobby, I'm surprised Flesher's attempting the ankle lock this late in the match. Only about nine minutes remain, and it's a gamble to try a hold that's so easily countered."

"Easily countered? HOW?"

Magnifico, operating mostly on reflex, kicks his free leg backwards and nails Flesher fair and square- fairly hard, and squarely in the testicles.

"Well, there's that, for one."

Flesher backs away, doubled over in pain, as Magnifico gets back to his feet. The Mexican superstar turns around and slams Flesher in the face with a roundhouse kick that takes the US Champion to the mat. The camera mic catches him screaming, "OH GOD! My face! My valuable face!" as Magnifico runs past him and slides through the ropes and onto the apron behind his opponent.

Stevens gets excited, and says, "Could we be seeing the South American Stunner?"

Flesher starts to push himself back up to his feet, slowly but surely, and finally stands straight up. With that, Magnifico vaults onto the top rope, planning to spring off... but his leg gives out and he falls flat onto his face!

"The world may never know, Mark. The world may never know."

"I'll tell you what we do know. Flesher has been working that left leg for the whole match, and it's finally starting to pay off."

Flesher hears the impact and turns around, only to see Magnifico face down and knocked senseless on the mat. He smiles and throws his hands into the air, then shouts, "THANK HEAVEN! THANK ME!" before falling forward and nailing a diving headbutt in the small of Magnifico's back. Or maybe he just collapsed and happened to land that way. Either way, Magnifico's back takes most of the impact, and Flesher uses his uninjured right arm to pull himself back to his feet. He grabs his opponent by the arm and drags him into the center of the ring, then rolls him to his back. He grabs the leg and starts to spin around, but thinks better of it and runs off to the side, then bounces off the ropes.

"You'll notice, Bobby, that both wrestlers are being a lot more choosy with their moves at this point. That's obviously the product of those moves having been countered earlier in the match. This late, and with the match tied at 1-1 with only a shade over eight minutes left, an offhanded counter can cost either of these men the match."

"Nuh uh, not Flesher. He just wants to embarrass that damn Mexicali."

Flesher rebounds off the ropes and leaps into the air, nailing a diving senton that knocks the wind right out of Magnifico! Magnifico, looking shockingly similar to Flesher a few minutes before, makes the same sit-up and flatten-out moves that his opponent did after the frog splash. Flesher, though, didn't injure himself with the senton the way the frog splash injured the Luchadore.

"Excellent choice of moves by Flesher," says Stevens, "and I mean that. It's surprisingly hard to injure yourself with a senton, as long as the opponent doesn't move out of the way."

"Told ya he was smarter than you."

The Superior One gets to his feet, then struts down to the barely-conscious Magnifico's feet. He lifts his opponent's legs, crosses them at the ankles and steps over in a cloverleaf hold! Magnifico, jolted awake by the pain, immediately starts grabbing for the ropes, despite being locked in the center of the mat.

"Superior Stretch! Flesher locks on the Superior Stretch!"

Riley responds by whistling the chorus of "Happy Days Are Here Again."

Magnifico reaches out for the ropes, squirming and wriggling. The fans start a chant of "E L M! E L M! E L M!" and begin to stomp and clap in rhythm. The pain is evident on El Luchadore Magnifico's face, and he stares forlornly at the scoreboard, reading Home, 1, Visitor, 1, time remaining, 7:24. 7:23. 7:22.

"Oh, god, hold on, Magnifico!" Stevens throws all journalistic impartiality to the wind and stands up at the announcers' table. "HOLD ON! You can break the hold! You can ride it out! Fight it and he'll get tired!"

Flesher sits back further, trying to sit on Magnifico's shoulders. His neck. His head. Cranking the legs. Forcing the spine against itself. He watches the SmarkTron tick away. 7:01. 7:00. 6:59.

"JUST TRY TO REACH THE ROPES! STEP UP TO THE PLATE, LUCHADORE! YOU CAN DO IT!"

"E L M! E L M!"

Flesher grimaces, working the Superior Stretch as hard as he possibly can.

"E L M! E L M!"

"DON'T GIVE UP!"

6:44. 6:43. 6:42.

TAP ... TAP ... TAP ...

DING DING DING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Flesher releases the hold immediately, smiling in a self-satisfied manner, although he looks absolutely shot. Funyon declares, "Tom Flesher secures a submission with twenty-three minutes, 31 seconds elapsed. The score is now Flesher 2, Magnifico 1, with six minutes, twenty-nine seconds remaining."

Flesher walks away and leans in a corner, smiling but breathing hard. Obviously exhausted, he watches Magnifico work to his feet. In the center of the ring, Magnifico attempts a push-up, and very, very carefully puts a little of his weight onto the injured left leg. Carefully, slowly, he gets to his feet and looks over to Flesher, who starts a golf clap. The fans burst into a chant of "YOU SUCK DICK! YOU SUCK DICK!" to which Flesher responds by blowing them kisses.

"He's such a jerk."

"He's just trying to be nice."

"Oh, he is not! Would you PLEASE grow up?!"

Magnifico moves toward Flesher, intrepidly working around his abused left leg. With a pronounced limp, he moves slowly to the corner that Flesher's in and reaches out for him. Flesher reaches toward him to lock up, but then pulls away and wags his finger as if to say, "You're not getting anywhere NEAR me." With that, he drops to the mat and slides out of the ring, where Eddy Long immediately starts to count him out.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

FOUR!

FIVE!

Flesher walks all the way around the ring, to the corner opposite the one Magnifico is resting in, and then stops there.

SIX!

SEVEN!

EIGHT!

NINE!

He slides back into the ring and leans in the corner, waving for Magnifico to come get him. Sighing, the Mexican immigrant limps slowly across the ring. "This is excruciating," sighs Riley. "Why doesn't he just resign the match?"

"He's the Light Heavyweight Champion, Bobby, and he's too proud to give up as long as he can walk."

As Magnifico gets close, Flesher drops to the mat and slides out of the ring, prompting several fans to throw empty cups at him. He ignores them and begins a slow stroll around the ring to the diagonal corner as Magnifico leans in his corner, trying to shake off the pain of his obviously impaired leg.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

FOUR!

FIVE!

SIX!

SEVEN!

EIGHT!

NINE!

And Flesher slides back in. Magnifico begins moving toward him once again, but Eddy Long motions for Funyon to come over. The scoreboard reads 4:45 remaining. Home 2. Visitor 1.

Long and Funyon confer for a moment, all the while with the clock ticking. 4:40. Funyon nods, and announces, "Referee Eddy Long would like to announce that if Tom Flesher continues wrestling passively and avoiding contact, he will be penalized with a disqualification!" With that, the fans burs into a cheer. Once the cheer subsides, Flesher looks up at the clock. 4:30. He smiles, then charges across the ring to nail the wounded Magnifico with a running shotei.

Magnifico ducks!

Flesher, on pure momentum, continues the run, and El Luchadore Magnifico does the smartest thing he can- back body drops Flesher over the ringpost and onto the concrete! The fans burst into a cheer and a chant of "E L M! E L M!" as Magnifico looks down at the prone Flesher. Knowing what he has to do, Magnifico climbs slowly to the top rope. Looking down at his fallen opponent, Magnifico gulps and shakes his leg out. The fans, seeing what's coming, jump to their feet and start applauding before Magnifico even starts the move. The clock reads 4:03. With a quick wave, Magnifico acknowledges his fans, and then leaps into the air!

He floats through the air, backflipping beautifully toward the outside. He completes the shooting star flip, and lands hard on the motionless body of the Superior One. The impact is amazing. Magnifico rolls off Flesher and onto the cold concrete, and neither man moves.

"Mexican Pride Press to the outside, and both of these athletes may be dead!" shouts Stevens, his emotion getting the best of him. "What impact! What a move!" Riley sits silent, unwilling to admit his admiration for the guts and determination shown by El Luchadore Magnifico.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

Magnifico rolls over and starts to crawl toward the apron.

FOUR!

The Luchadore pulls himself up the apron as Flesher rolls over, grabbing the skirt hanging off the apron and using his right arm to pull.

FIVE!

ELM enters the ring.

SIX!

SEVEN!

Flesher gets to his feet and slowly rolls into the ring.

Magnifico pauses for a moment to look over at the scoreboard. Home, 2. Visitor, 1. Time remaining, 3:17.

Home, 2. VISITOR, 1.

VISITOR.

VISITOR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Magnifico's face turns red with rage. He remembers now why he's here. Flesher has disrespected everything about him. He's disrespected him personally by claiming to be the top light heavyweight in the federation. He's disrespected his father the same way. Flesher has even disrespected the title that he came here to win! But most importantly... He's disrespected every... single... Mexican immigrant watching.

They're his fans, dammit!

Magnifico charges at the shakey US Champion, throwing an unbelievably stiff lariat that very nearly sends him back over the top rope. Flesher looks at the Luchadore, terrified, and tries to bail to the outside, but the Mexican superstar grabs him by the shirt collar and yanks him back to the center of the ring. Still unsteady on his left leg, Magnifico is operating solely on adrenaline. He slaps Flesher hard across the face and screams, "DIGA SUS REZOS, GRINGOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" The fans burst into cheers.

"He just told Flesher to say his prayers! The Magnificent Luchadore is pumped up, and so are the fans!"

"But can he do it?! Flesher's in so much better condition than he is!"

"He's El Luchadore Magnifico! He can do anything!"

Magnifico wrenches Flesher's arm and spins back around, jerking it over his shoulder again as Flesher screams with each arm wrench. The crowd counts along:

UNO!

DOS!

TRES!

CUATRO!

CINCO!

and finally, Magnifico takes Flesher over the shoulder and slams him to the mat with a Japanese armdrag! The fans, on their feet, applaud and scream Magnifico's name!

Stevens may be the only one not cheering.

"Look at the CLOCK! You only have two minutes! Dammit, Mags, MAKE IT COUNT!"

Magnifico gets behind Flesher and lifts him to his feet, then throws his head under Flesher's left arm. He lifts the Superior One into the air and starts spinning, setting up his rare Blue Thunder Bomb! Magnifico completes the rotation, but can't finish the move! His leg just can't take the stress and Flesher rolls down his back and lands on his feet! The fans let out a collective sigh of sadness as Flesher rears back to nail Magnifico with a shotei to the back of the head...

BUT MAGNIFICO DUCKS!

The "E L M!" chant starts once more as Magnifico ducks the palm from behind, then stands back up and grabs Flesher's arm. He once again starts slowly wringing Flesher's arm over his shoulder, hyperextending the arm and jerking the shoulder against its joint! And once again, the fans count along, as Flesher watches the clock despite the excruciating pain he's in.

UNO! 1:35.

DOS! 1:31.

TRES! 1:27.

CUATRO! 1:23.

CINCO! 1:19.

And finally, at 1:12, Magnifico throws Flesher over in a Japanese armdrag. He tries to keep the arm, but Flesher rears back and elbows him in the groin! Magnifico doubles over as Flesher tries to roll away, certain that he's won the match already.

Eddy Long blocks his path! The referee shouts at Flesher, yelling, "YOU GO OVER THERE AND WRESTLE HIM, DAMMIT!" Flesher looks stricken. "How can you-" "DO YOU WANT TO GET DISQUALIFIED, YOU COCKY BASTARD?"

Home, 2. Visitor, 1. 0:58.

Flesher walks over and makes token contact with Magnifico, who looks up and is in obvious pain thanks to the blatant low blow.

"COME ON, MAGNIFICO!" Stevens' voice is hoarse. "COME ON!!!!!!!! ANYTHING! WORK THE GODDAMN ARM!!!!!!"

Magnifico, fighting through the pain, grabs Flesher's left arm and swings it toward him. He looks up, then leaps into the air, yanks Flesher's arm between his legs and falls to the mat in a cross arm scissors! Magnifico pulls the arm, hyperextending the elbow, working it with all his might!

"E L M! E L M!"

"Cross arm scissors by El Luchadore Magnifico! Only 30 seconds left!"

"Hold out, Flesher!!!!!!! HOLD OUT!"

"SHUT UP!"

Flesher does his best to fold his arm in and break the hold, screaming out all the while.

"E L M! E L M!"

Magnifico works the hold hard, cinching it, locking it, using the arm against itself!

Funyon breaks in. "There are 15 seconds left in the match!"

"COME ON, MAGS!!!!! DO IT! DO IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Flesher fights, screaming. His left arm looks like it's going to snap at any second.

TEN!

"WORK IT, MAGS!"

NINE!

"HOLD ON, TOM!"

EIGHT!

"E L M!"

SEVEN!

Flesher tries to hold out!

SIX!

Magnifico tries to break his arm!

FIVE!

Suddenly, one fan has a bright idea...

FOUR!

"MEX I CO! MEX I CO!"

THREE!

With the whole Seattle crowd chanting, Magnifico works the hold as hard as he possibly can!

TWO!

The noise rises to levels unknown to mankind.

WHO'S IT GONNA BE, DAMMIT?!

ONE!

DING DING DING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The fans burst into a chorus of boos as Eddy Long drops down onto Magnifico and forces him to release the hold. Flesher pulls his arm in, holding it tight to his body, and Magnifico rolls over, pounding the canvas with frustration.

Eddy Long grabs the Light Heavyweight Title belt from Funyon and brings it into the ring as Funyon announces the official word.

"Ladies and gentlemen... your winner by a score of 2 to 1, and the NEW SWF Light Heavyweight Champion... he is the SWF United States Champion, the Superior One, TOM FLESHER!!!!!!!!!!"

"Tell All The People" begins to blare over the PA as beer cups begin to litter the ring. Eddy Long stops in Flesher's corner and grabs the US Title, then drapes both belts over the writhing, beaten Flesher. Magnifico rolls out of the ring, a look of disbelief on his face. Without another word, he walks numbly to the backstage area, unable to formulate a response to anything that just happened.

Flesher looks down, sees both belts, and tries to raise his arms in the air... but recoils in pain, his left arm obviously severely injured.

"Flesher's going to be feeling the effects of this match for a long time," says Stevens sullenly.

"It doesn't matter! He won! DOUBLE GOLD, BITCH!"

Flesher tries to look happy, but all he can do is think about the searing, burning pain running through his arm.

"Magnifico had it won in the last few seconds!"

"Doesn't matter! Flesher's a double champ!"

Flesher rolls out of the ring, and Long drapes the belts over the injured champion's shoulders so he can carry them to the back and seek medical attention. Stevens, meanwhile, still can't believe it..

"He had it won, Bobby. He had it won...."

July 29, 2002

The camera cuts away from some Wargames montage to backstage, showing Jay Dawg walking forward, swinging his arms over his shoulders with weak jabs, the title around his waist.

Riley: “Welcome back to Ground Zero you dirty fucking whores who wasted $30 instead of buying my autograph!”

Stevens: “This is why I introduce the show. It looks to be time for our hardcore title match! Jay Dawg can’t be happy with the blatant ASS kicking he got from Edwin MacPhisto last week.”

Riley: “That was the most bullshit finish I have ever seen! Matthew Kivell is the dumbest ref in history! I mean, Jay Dawg is the ref, yet Kivell finishes the match!? What is up with that!?”

Stevens: “Oh please! Jay Dawg was obviously siding with Lerrin, and he pushed the world champ and joker one step too far! In fact, I congratulate Jay Dawg, because he has given Edwin and the Carnival one powerful edge!”

Riley: “Like what!?”

Stevens: “I have watched them train over the week. They are intense and ready for Wargames! It is going to be one hell of a battle!”

Riley: “Bah!”

The lights quickly die as thousands upon thousands of fireworks explodes over the rafters and entrance ramp. Fans are on their feet, but their voices are inaudible at the fascinating pyro.

...3...

...2...

...1...

The explosions stop. Backstage, Jay Dawg is shown standing behind the curtain. His head down, he builds some words of confidence as he looks at the ground.

“THIS!!!

IS!!!

MAH!!!

HOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUSSSSSSSSSSSSSSEEEE!!!”

JD smiles at the rerecording of his entrance spiel, and with a deadly strike, he thrusts forward with a front kick, shattering the wood inside the curtains. JD punches the chunks on the side, creating an entrance for him as he steps through the curtains, his head down. He walks to the top of the ramp and finally the crowd can be heard, booing their ass off at the hardcore champ as he slowly raising his head. JD remains at the ramp, scanning the crowd who’s hatred grows, all destroying their lungs just to curse the man in on stage. He lowers his head once more, although that smile, which has to be a trademark by now, is without good intentions.

Funyon: “Ladies and Gentleman! The following contest is for the hardcore championship! Introducing first, he hails from Vancouver, British Columbia! He stands at Six feet Four inches and tips the scales at 250 pounds! He is your S-W-F Hardcore Champion and a member of the Creative Control… JAMIE ‘JAY DAWG’ DRAZON!!!”

Upon the name mentioned, JD snaps his head upward, allowing all nearby getting a good visual of his sadistic grin. Hopping onto the ring apron, he pauses, turning his back to the ropes to face the crowd, pointing to his Hardcore title. He unstraps the gold and holds it high over his head before entering the ring. He tosses the title to the ref and tenses his muscles, letting the anger build. He places his hands on his thighs, and slowly cricks his neck. Finally relaxing back into the corner, and rests on the turnbuckles in wait for his mystery opponent.

Riley: “Now there is a true champion!”

Stevens: “Yeah… a true champ who got knocked out by a better champ last week!”

Riley: “You and your little clique! That was a sneak attack! You saw that Roaring Elbow, he had no way of blocking it!”

Stevens: “The clique owns you suckah!”

Riley: “Glass Ceiling! I was robbed I tell yahs!”

Darkness engulfs the arena filled with fans screaming for Jay Dawg’s blood. The hardcore champ, barely visible through the pitch black, spins around in a circle, expecting some sort of sneak attack from the crafty X Force Niners.

Riley: “SNEAK ATTACK! SNEAK ATTACK! WATCH OUT JAMIE!!”

Stevens: “I don’t see anyone…what are you talking about!?”

Riley: “Well, I just assumed…I mean…I…”

Stevens: “Yeah…exactly…shut up.”

Several moments have passed, the arena still pitched in darkness as we await JD’s X Force 9 opponent…until suddenly…

“HAHAHAHAHA!”

The entire arena gasp as they’ve heard that sinister laugh before…but where? Despite the low visibility, we can clearly see a look of complete and utter shock laced with a trembling fear creep onto JD’s face as the laughter gives way to an electric guitar…

Riley: “No…no way. I thought he was dead!”

Stevens: “Oh my…you don’t think…it couldn’t be…he didn’t…”

“They don’t know!”

“Who we be!”

Stevens: “HOLY FUCKIN’ SHIT!! I CAN’T BELIEVE IT!!”

“They don’t know!”

“Who we be!”

Riley: “NO FUCKIN’ WAY!! THERE IS NO WAY THIS IS HAPPENING!! He was a turnip!”

The lights that pan through the darkness illuminate the ring just enough to show JD backing fearfully towards the far ropes, leaning against them with his mouth completely ajar. The fans in attendance are going completely apeshit, as are the millions watching at home. The screams, hoots, and hollers near drown out the best part of the song…

“What they don’t know is…”

BOOM!!!!

An explosion of fire erupts on the stage, leaving a solid wall in its wake.

Stevens: “My dear god…it’s the Hville Thugg!!”

Riley: “Holy crap!! The greatest World Champion this fed has ever seen!! Is he going to take on Jay Dawg???”

Stevens: “I don’t know, but this is a huge development!!”

The fire on the stage dies down and the house lights return, showing JD scanning the arena for the monster he helped put out of the SWF, but alas, there is no sign of HVT…until…

“YO JAMIE!! JAMIE!!”

Stevens: “Wait Bobby! Look!”

Everyone in the entire arena turns their heads to the Smarktron, where the clank of a barbell reveals HVT finishing a set of reps on a weight bench. The fans sigh, a bit disappointed, but still happy to see the former 2-time world champion.

Riley: “What’s he doing there? What’s going on? Is he going to…”

Stevens: “I don’t know…but I bet if we listen, we’ll find out all we need to know.”

HVT sits up from the bench and looks directly into the camera. He’s wearing a black hoodie that slightly covers his face, which is drenched in sweat, and when he cracks his knuckles in front of the camera, he shows “KILL” and “MAIM” tattooed on both hands.

HVT: “YO BITCH! Surprised to see me??”

JD stares at the Smarktron in both disbelief and fear as HVT continues…

HVT: “What? Did you think you killed me or something?? You should know better than that yo. Well, check it…I know you’re standing there wondering where I am, and how I’m gonna blast you. Well, I’ll put your mind at ease yo…I ain’t gonna be whoopin’ yo ass tonight. While I’m up and about now…I’m here, just chillin’ at the crib, ya know…for now. You didn’t think I’d stay on my back forever did ya?? You’ll be happy to know that this soldier has been walkin’ for weeks, and as you can see, I’m in the weight room, still keepin’ on….but don’t worry…I ain’t comin’ back. Not now at least…”

JD sighs, thinking that it can’t be the worse since HVT is not at the arena.

Stevens: “Well, there’s your answer. That’s a little disappointing though. I think all of these fans were hoping to see the Hville Thugg back in action tonight.”

Riley: “Meh…JD would just break his neck again anyways, so it’s for the best. While he’s pretty dumb…he’s not stupid enough to step into the ring with the hardcore champ.”

HVT: “Hey Riley…Stevens…shut up fo’ I whoop both your asses. Anyway…as I was sayin’…”

Riley: “Well damn…”

HVT: “…How’s it goin’ playa?!? You must be feelin’ real good after the way you helped take me out. I liked the way you came to see a nigga in the hospital, pretended to be all chummy and shit, only to turn around and trample on my legacy…but it’s all good. Cuz you gonna get yours, just like the rest of them bitches who set me up. And don’t worry…I know you wasn’t more than just the muscle to do the job, but you still gonna get yo ass whooped you little punk beeatch!”

The fans cheer as HVT verbally lays into JD, while still leaving him in the dark about his match for this evening.

HVT: “Oh…yeah…quick question Drazon…where’s that hot little mami you used to be up on??”

Riley: “He’s talking about Molly.”

Stevens: “Duh…shut up.”

HVT: “I’m just askin’ dogg…cause I heard she bounced on your punk ass…for another woman!!!”

HVT has a hearty laugh at JD’s misfortune of losing his girl to a lesbian, as does Stevens, Riley, and the entire arena.

HVT: “Yo…how’d you let that happen man?? I always told you that you wasn’t hittin’ that right…and now you done turned her off to men forever. Damn yo…is yo shit THAT bad?!?”

The laughter continues as HVT just pokes every nerve of JD.

HVT: “Anyway yo…enough games and shit. Now, since I can’t just walk up in there and whoop yo bitch ass, I thought I’d find someone who could do it for me. And believe me Jamie…I would straight wreck you right now if they’d let me in the ring…and you can thank your boys Stubby and King fo’ that shit. Cause you best believe that as soon as I got out of the hospital, I came to the next event…but yo fagot friends set security real tight as to not let me in. But it’s all good yo…cause I got you. I got you no matter where you turn. I pulled some strings…talked to THA DOGGAH…and…Oooo..I know you gonna like this yo.”

Stevens: “Oh! Is Thugg gonna name JD’s opponent?!? I wonder who it is??”

Riley: “No one could be worse than Thugg himself, so…”

HVT: “You know this person pretty well….and I know for a fact that this person does not like yo punk ass…so…without further ado…let me introduce the WOMAN…”

Stevens & Riley: “WOMAN??”

HVT: “…that, like me, is gonna WRECK YO SHIT!!!”

Stevens & Riley: “WOMAN??”

“ANNIE ECLECTIC!!!!”

The crowd erupts for their favourite lesbian as synthesized trumpets announce her arrival, as slow panning intertwined shots of Annie E show on the SmarkTron.

Riley: “Chrikee, we haven’t seen her in forever!”

Stevens: “But I can guarantee you, it has to burn Jay Dawg up to know that Molly is with her!”

Riley: “Wait, wasn’t it that clan twin sister she was with?”

Stevens: “Ummm… Well she’s with the real Annie E. now!”

Suddenly, 'I Get Wet' by Andrew W.K. blare on the PA system as the Real Annie E runs full speed down the entrance ramp, as Jay Dawg stands in wait, holding his hands for her to come to him. She gladly obliges, springing to the apron and throwing her body with leapfrog over the top. Annie looks at JD, instead of her confident smile, a little sadistic side shows from her as well, letting JD know a fight will happen. JD pushes himself off the ropes, and thrusts at her with a clothesline. The SWF’s resident lesbo ducks, pivots around, and peppers the hardcore champ with three quick jabs. Annie speeds up the attack, alternating her fists as she continues to hit the Dawgmeister.

Stevens: “And Annie is taking it to Jay Dawg early!”

JD catches her arm, and with a fluid motion, places his leg behind hers, and shoves her down to the mat with a trip. JD shakes off the blows, rubbing his face, but the ultra quick Annie E. is back to her feet and splatters the hardcore champ with two vicious knife-edge chops. The step chops knock him back, as Annie winds up for another, connecting hard and getting an inspired “WHOO!!” from the crowd. Annie pushes JD into the ropes, Irish whip, no, JD shifts the weight to Irish whip her instead. As Annie rebounds off the ropes, JD throws out another clothesline. Annie grabs the arm, and floats over the back of Jay Dawg, releasing the one arm to hook the other, falling to the mat and taking JD over with an arm drag. The crowd goes insane at the move as Mark Stevens reminisces to the crowd.

Stevens: “Float over arm drag! Made famous by the Hall Of Famer Cyclone Comet!”

Riley: “First the Comet’s Tail, now this!? What’s next, the Cyclotron!? What is it with these XF9’ers and their tributes to the Cyclone Comet!?”

Stevens: “Respect for those who brought them here?”

Riley: “How about lack of originality and can’t think of their own shit!”

Stevens: “You are such a grouch. Is it that time of the month again?”

Riley: “Blow me.”

…

Stevens: “I knew it.”

Riley: “Bah!”

Annie is back at her feet, waiting anxiously for JD to come get some. He obliges and she powers him up high and over with a back body drop. JD hits the mat hard, and curses can be seen coming out of his mouth, as he pushes himself up. Annie grabs the ponytail, pulling him inward, she strikes hard with an elbow strike to the cheek. Turning her elbow into Jay Dawg’s jaw with a Euro-style uppercut. JD snaps his head up, his expression changes from dazed to pissed, and swings hard with a right hook. Annie ducks and applies a waistlock on JD. Although most men would like a lesbian hugging their waist tightly, JD is not amused, swinging his elbow back hard to which Annie ducks. She drops to her knees, and before I make one big dick joke about Annie dropping to her knees before Jay Dawg, I’d like to mention that you are all perverts and need to read something else besides dick jokes! I mean come on, is a little skin over muscle with a purple head that funny? Come on, it drove a woman to lesbianism! Now it’s in front of a lesbian, maybe she’ll go straight! It’s the BUTT end of all the jokes! The cream of the crop! Ah fuck it! Annie cradles the neck and arm of the Dawgmeister, and with a simple twist, he is flipped to the mat via Fireman’s Carry takedown.

Stevens: “Annie is out wrestling Jay Dawg!”

Riley: “No one can outwrestle the Dawgmeister!”

Stevens: “She’s doing a fine job of it, although I must agree that Jay Dawg’s anger isn’t doing him any good in the early stages!”

Annie lateral presses for the first cover, to which Jay Dawg kicks out before the ref gets to the mat. Annie instantly rolls over top of JD, applying a facelock. JD starts to press upward, getting to his knees, to his feet although doubled over. He reaches his arms out, trying to power out, swinging his hand around full force, connecting with the rear end of Annie, which is now going to be the topic of all those Annie Eclectic worship sites. All of a sudden, Jay Dawg calms down, his anger seemingly dies, and easily he grabs the wrist of Annie, twists his body to break the hold and steps behind Annie, pulling the wrist up into a hammerlock.

Riley: “That a boy!”

Stevens: “Like I said! Jay Dawg’s anger was costing him in these early stages!”

Riley: “But his anger will fuel the fire for the hardcore match up!”

Stevens: “True! But this isn’t hardcore yet!”

JD lifts the arm high up, keeping the hammerlock tight. He pulls Annie inward, holding his arm around her, and the camera closes in on what he plans to do. The eyes suddenly open as he speaks to Annie. “Tonight Ms. Eclectic. I am going to show you what it’s like… to be hardcore.” He releases his hold and the eyelids once again close down. Pivoting Eclectic around, he pulls on the arm, sending her to the ropes, no, pulls back, throws the back of his elbow out and down goes the lesbian princess! JD calmly turns his body over top of her, using his knees to hold down her shoulders, he grabs the top of the bob hair, and feeds her face multiple knuckle sandwiches.

Riley: “Jay Dawg has slowed the pace down and is ready to pick Annie apart!”

Stevens: “He also told Annie what it’s like to be hardcore!”

Keeping a hold of the hair, Jay Dawg pulls Annie to her feet and into a sidewalk waistlock. Slowly carrying her around the ring, he gradually lifts her high up in the air before bring her crashing down, halting her stop with a vicious knee to the back. Annie’s body practically snaps her in two over the knee, her head and shoulders go limp. JD throws her off his knee and places his foot over her chest.

One…

Riley: “That’s all! What a backbreaker!”

Stevens: “She’s broken in half!”

Two…

No. Annie easily turns her shoulder up, much to the dismay of Jay Dawg. He stomps her once, knocking her hard onto the mat, before heading outside. He drops by the ring apron and pulls it up reaching under he pulls out a table. He slides it out, letting it stay there as he reaches under again, pulling out a garbage can. With a simple heave, he throws the can and lid into the ring. He reaches under again, pulling out a framed picture. The rage boils in JD when he gets a closer look at the picture, he tosses it aside and the camera catches a glimpse of Ash Ketchum with the hardcore title. With two thumps up, he is smiling, “To My Biggest Fan, Ash Ketchum.”

Stevens: “Ha ha! The XF9 is starting to play some head games with Jay Dawg!”

Riley: “Pfft! Like Ash has any fans! His biggest fan is his left hand! Applauding the work of his right!”

JD throws the picture over his shoulder, and reaches under once more, pulling out an X-Box. JD shakes his head as he tosses it aside, not wanting to test his luck any more he slides into the ring, settling for the garbage can. JD turns the garbage can upside down, letting it stand. He turns back to Annie, helping her the rest of the way to her feet, he holds her by the hair before smashing her face into the top of the garbage can. She grabs her nose in pain as JD holds the back of her neck tightly. “This is the start.” He mumbles to her, the camera barely picks it up as he smashes her face into the can again. One more time. He turns to Annie, whispering into the ear. “By the way, I hope you don’t mind if I visit Molly.” A light flickers into the eyes, as Annie suddenly wakes up. She drives her elbow into the chest of JD, into his ribs, and once more into his face. A straight back kick to the lower abdomen releases the grasp, as Annie turns around, hitting him with a sidekick to the chest. Showing extreme flexibility, she snaps her leg up, before driving the heel into the forehead of JD. The hardcore champ crashes to the mat allowing Annie to make the academic pin.

One…

Two…

JD gets a shoulder up.

Riley: “That a boy!”

Annie doesn’t sweat it. She grabs the lid of the garbage can and places it over the face of JD. Hugging his head tightly, she runs forward, leaping high, and smashing the face into the can lid, and bulldogs him to the mat! Annie makes another cover, JD still having the can lid over his face.

One…

Two…

T…JD gets the shoulder up once more. The crowd really starts to get into it, hoping for JD to stay down.

Riley: “Innovative spot, but JD still owns!”

Stevens: “Owns supreme with a garbage can lid for a face!”

Somehow the lid is still over top of Jay Dawg’s face as Annie rushes to the ropes. She springs to the second rope, and from there, leaps to the top turnbuckle. The crowd’s jaw drops as she springs high off the top rope, driving her elbow sickly into the garbage can lid, crushing Jay Dawg’s face. She throws herself on top of Jay Dawg, hooking the leg for another cover. The crowd is on their feet, cheering for three.

ONE…

TWO…

THR… and Jay Dawg gets his shoulder a safe distance off the mat.

Letting her mischief side show, Annie takes a look at JD, then the garbage can. She helps him to his feet, but lets him stand on his own. She turns to the garbage can, and places it on top of JD. Cramming his head and shoulders in there, Annie starts to jab the can. Hitting it with some hard lefts and rights, making the echo as the crowd laughs. Finally she runs off the ropes, ricocheting back, she leaps into the air, and kicks the can hard with the Dropkiss! JD loses gravity, and his arms would be flailing if they weren’t trapped in a can. CRUNCH!! The can shows an evident dent in it as JD lies on the mat. Annie makes one more pin and everyone knows it’s the final pin. But the ref won’t count.

Riley: “Ha! The shoulders are not down!”

Stevens: “Unfortunately he is right. There is no way for Jay Dawg shoulders to be down.”

Boos erupt with an explosion, thousands of males are on their feet, telling the ref what he can suck. Annie makes little argument over it, grabbing the can and pulling it off of the head. She drops to her knees, and suddenly, like all those horror movie villains, Jay Dawg’s eyes snap open. He grabs her throat with the one hand and sits up. Finally reaching his feet, he grasps her throat with his second hand. He lifts high in the air as the audience fears the worst, the eyes roll into the back of his head, as he slowly starts to choke the life out of Annie E.

Riley: “Ha ha ha! There’s no stopping Jay Dawg!”

Stevens: “It’s not over! But I fear for Annie in this position.”

Annie starts to fiddle with something in her hands. JD catches a glimpse of this, and his eyes reappear. He drops Annie to her feet and smacks the capsule out of her hands. The garbage can right beside him, he kicks Annie hard in the gut, pulling her into a front facelock. He leaps high in the air, shifting his body weight over top of hers, before driving her facefirst into the can with the JD DDT! Annie lies limp, face deep into the can as JD pulls her off and makes the cover.

ONE…

Stevens: “That has to be all! A valiant effort by Annie Eclectic!”

TWO…

“Let’s go Annie!” kicks up, the crowd really getting behind the penis nazi.

THREE…NO!!

Annie gets her shoulder up and not a moment too soon! The crowd realizes the match is still going on, and their response almost rivals the thought that Thugg was Jay Dawg’s opponent tonight!

Riley: “God damn rug munching bitch!”

Stevens: “I think she prefers the term carpet muncher.”

JD lifts the garbage can up, and drives the last bit of it into the limp body of Annie E. the can finally flattens out, and Jay Dawg tosses it away. He steps back outside, by the entrance ramp and the hordes of weapons he tossed aside. JD grabs onto the table and sets it up on the outside, over top of the picture and the X-Box. He slides back into the ring and grabs onto the garbage can lid. He pulls Annie by the hair, sliding outside and dragging her along. Placing her beside the table, he pulls the lid back, and swings full force, cracking her in the skull with the lid. She falls backwards, conveniently lying on the table for Jay Dawg. The hardcore champ smiles, as he looks over to the turnbuckle. He hops onto the ring apron and slowly starts to climb.

Stevens: “Oh no!? Is he drunk again!?”

Riley: “Probably!”

JD climbs to the top turnbuckle and turns his back to Annie. He tries to hang onto his balance, but starts to stumble. He looks down at the height below and rumblings in his stomach can be heard. Suddenly he leaps into the air, somehow twisting his body over in a form that definitely can’t rival El Luchadore Magnifico, he looks at the ground below him, Annie Eclectic, and an empty table. “SHIT!!” is all he can muster out before crashing hard into the table, shattering it to bits with his drunken moonsault.

Stevens: “Annie rolled off the table! Whoo doggy!”

Riley: “That bitch is gonna get it!”

JD somehow rises to his knees, holding his chest in dear pain. Annie quickly crucifies his arms, and rolls him with a la majistral on the outside. The ref slides out from the inside and makes the cover.

ONE…

TWO…

THREE…NO!! Jay Dawg peals his shoulder off the mat just enough to classify a kickout!

Stevens: “The falls are getting closer!”

Riley: “A smart move by Annie. She tightened her pin and made it extremely difficult for Jay Dawg to kick out!”

JD gets to his feet, and tries to make his way up the ramp. Annie picks up the X-Box with one hand and turns him around, smashing it hard over his skull. JD drops to his knees, trying to absorb the unbelievable pain that caused. Annie turns back and grabs the autographed Ash Ketchum. She whispers “Sorry Ash” to the picture before swinging it at JD, smashing it hard over his cranium. The cardboard shatters over Jay Dawg’s head, leaving his head in place of Ash’s, but the frame still around his neck. JD drops to his knees, and the crowd all asks for it, cheering as he timbers on down, lying with an Ash Ketchum picture around his head. Annie returns to the ring and slides inside.

Stevens: “Jay Dawg has just been framed! And not like Roger Rabbit! BONG!!”

Riley: “Are you on crack?”

Stevens: “Who knows, but I bet someone who is writing at this moment is! WHEE!!”

Well waiting for JD, who is at his knees. An idea suddenly pops into the head of Annie. She rushes to the nearest turnbuckles and leaps to the top one. The crowd all gasps, wondering what on earth she plans to do. Holding her arm up, she taunts for Jay Dawg to rise. JD finally gets to his feet and like a torpedo she flies at JD. Annie holds one arm out, and upon landing on JD, she wraps it around his neck with a facelock. Annie shifts her legs upward, allowing her to spin off JD who is still wrapped in a picture frame… spinning JD in a full circle before dropping him headfirst into the ramp with the damnedest tornado DDT you will ever see!

Riley/Stevens/Crowd: “HOLY SHIT!!”

Stevens: “Did you see that! Annie flew about 15 feet, before hitting that DDT!”

Riley: “I don’t believe my eyes! That was insane!”

JD sits up from the impact, his body hunched over frontward, his face touching his knees. Annie springs to her feet, holding her arms high for the crowd, before suddenly dying down. She collapses to her knees, and lies down.

Stevens: “That must have taken a lot out of Annie!”

Riley: “Bullshit! That was last wind effort!”

Annie pushes to her knees and crawls over to Jay Dawg. His hair starting to drip over his face, beads of sweat covering his surrounding. Annie grabs his forehead and pushes him forward, letting him lie down as she makes the cover, hooking the leg.

ONE…

Stevens: “This has gotta be all!”

TWO…

THREENOJAYDAWGKICKSOUTLIKETHUGGSMOMMAKICKINGCOPSASSES!!!

Riley: “Holy shit! Jay Dawg is hardcore! Did you see that!”

Stevens: “I did! I can’t believe it!”

JD sits up full, ripping the frame off his neck, he hangs onto a stem of it, and whacks it over the chest of Annie. The crowd starts to boo as JD makes the return to his feet. He pulls the rest of the frame off him and hits Annie in the head with it.

Riley: “This is getting interesting!”

JD pulls Annie into him, and with a stiff knee, hammers her in the gut. The two slowly start a journey up the ramp, JD hitting Annie approximately every three steps. All of a sudden, at the very top, JD swings one more time. Annie catches the fist, twists around, and pulls JD into a chickenwing! She drapes her arm over JD’s mouth and cheek, slowly yanking on it as the crowd goes insane.

Stevens: “Crossface! Annie has the crossface chickenwing on!”

Riley: “Bah! JD can survive this!”

Stevens: “If he falls down and the clutch is locked on, JD will be shit outta luck!”

JD starts to walk over to the side of the ramp. The camera looks down for them and what it sees is a shitload of tables stacked on top of each other. 2 tables side by side, 3 tables going up.

Stevens: “There has to be Six tables right there! If they go through it, it’s all over!”

Jay Dawg grabs the arm over his face, and spins behind Annie Eclectic. He pulls her into a waistlock and lifts high, taking a page from Edwin’s book, he stalls the suplex as he walks backward to the edge. Suddenly he tips backward, carrying Annie over his shoulders with a German suplex! CRASH!! They go through the first set at equal pace, , suddenly, JD twists his body so it flattens out, while the shoulders of Eclectic go through the tables! CRASH!! CRASH!!

“HOLY SHIT!!! HOLY SHIT!!! HOLY SHIT!!! HOLY SHIT!!!”

The commentators are out of breath, not even being able to explain what they just saw. They just look in disbelief. Referees and EMTs start pouring out from backstage as they want to tend to the two superstars that lie there in pain.

Stevens: “I think this match has just gone too far.”

Annie starts to twitch as the crowd cheers for her. JD raises his head, his eyes still closed, although more like a caveman being awoken from a deep sleep instead of intimidation. He falls back down, trying hard to move, but it’s like lifting an anvil. He gives up and lets himself rest.

Riley: “This doesn’t look good.”

The EMT’s start to pull the stretchers out. Tending to Annie first, checking her neck. The refs are asking JD if he is alright, but he doesn’t answer.

Stevens: “Jay Dawg just hit that monster German suplex. I think he didn’t know what was coming.”

The eyes of rage suddenly snap open. JD grabs the two refs and shoves them away. He gets to his feet and stumbles forward, his eyes deadlocked on Annie. The crowd fears for the worst as JD starts his trek. A ref grabs JD by the waist, but he is quickly shoved aside. Another ref gets into his face, but JD levels him with a hard right hook. As the ref goes down, so does JD, dropping to his knees. He crawls forward, desperately clawing for the chance to finish off Annie.

Riley: “He’s alive! Ah ha ha ha ha ha! He’s alive!”

JD gets to his feet once more and shoves away the two EMT’s tending to Annie. He drops beside her and whispers into her ear. “Oh not..a..chance. It’s not o..ver yet.” JD grabs the limp Annie and rolls her onto a stretcher. He stands the stretcher up, and lets it roll forward, so they are underneath the bars and the cables of the SmarkTron. He stops the stretcher and tips it upward, letting Annie fall off it, then drops it on top of her.

Stevens: “I guess this match is going to continue.”

Annie suddenly moves her arm over her mouth, and although JD doesn’t see it, the camera guy catches a good shot of her sliding the green capsule into her mouth. JD pulls her into a standing headscissors and lets the pain flow through him. Suddenly he looks behind him, noticing the cables and metal bars that hold up the SmarkTron. He releases the headscissors and holds Annie by the throat with a deathgrip. He looks at her, shaking his head before pulling her into another waistlock. JD stares straight into the face of Annie, preparing her for flight. He suddenly notices her jaw moving and can see what’s coming, he releases the hold and pushes Annie away…

-But it’s too late, Annie spits out the Green Mist!

Stevens: “Green Mist! Green Mist!”

Riley: “That cheating dyke!”

JD claws at his eyes, flailing around at the almost acidic pain. The green liquid dripping off her chin, Annie smiles at what has been bestowed upon Jay Dawg. The audience roars in approval as JD drops to his knees. Annie holds her arms out, stalking JD as he claws at his eyes. She pulls his arm out and into a chickenwing, and cinches her arm over to the puke green face of JD. “ANNIE E!! ANNIE E!! ANNIE E!!” and the submission is secured. “AARRGH!!” JD shouts out in pain, as she sits on the lower back, arching his neck into positions not meant by those outside of the circus.

Stevens: “It’s the Triple C! And the crowd loves it!”

JD heads forward, trying not to let his knees cave out.

Riley: “You have to believe if this chick didn’t steal his girlfriend, Jay Dawg would be tapping right here right now!”

Stevens: “If you notice, Jay Dawg’s knees are relieving some of the pressure on the neck! Annie can only use her muscle right now instead of the leverage!”

With his one arm, he reaches out, and grabs onto the cables in front of him. However, at this exact moment, his knees give in, and the leverage is on Annie’s side! She applies the torque, and with the exception of the three Jay Dawg fans up in the nosebleeds, the crowd loves it.

Stevens: “It’s all over!”

With the sweat dripping down her eyes, streaming through the green mist. Annie can be seen screaming hanging onto this hold is hurting her to. But not nearly as much as Jay Dawg, who’s muscles are bulging out as he grasps the cable, pulling himself upward, trying to relieve the pressure. “Just give up! Just give up!” starts up, as Jay Dawg lets go of the rope. “You’re right Jay Dawg.” She responds finally. “It wasn’t over, but it is now.” He taps the cable.

Once…

Twice…

And suddenly the hold is broken! Sacred just sidekicked Annie Eclectic in the head! The crowd goes insane as Annie collapses, with JD down and out on the mat. Sacred pulls Jay Dawg beside Annie, and takes off.

Stevens: “God dammit! He returned earlier tonight! And now he is sticking his nose in this match!”

Riley: “He didn’t do any harm!”

Stevens: “He just kicked Annie in the head and may have cost her the match!”

Slowly, JD drapes his arm over the chest of Annie E.

ONE…

TWO…

THREEAHFUCKMESHEKICKEDOUT!!!

The crowd goes insane! They start stomping their feet and clapping their hands at the amazing resilience of both competitors!

Stevens: “I don’t believe it!”

Riley: “Son of a bitch!”

JD rises, thinking of what will put her away. Finally it comes to him, as he pulls her into another headscissors. He powers her up, but she flips high, sliding over his shoulder and landing behind him. JD turns around to get a boot to the gut. While doubled over, he is pulled into the facelock. “ANNIE T!!!” shouts the crowd as Annie holds her arm up. She lifts JD up, but a leg in between hers blocks that. JD spins out of the facelock and throws his arm over Annie’s. He pressures her down into an armbar but pulls her back up into an inverted facelock! He spins her around and crushes her jaw over his shoulder!

Riley: “FINAL THOUGHT!!! I haven’t seen him do that in over a year!”

Stevens: “I can’t believe he just used that!”

Annie stands up after being stunned, only to tip backward. JD stands up and grabs the cables, as Annie collapses. JD grabs her ankle and starts to tie it up. He grabs the other ankle and ties it up, then ties them together. Pulling on the cable, Annie is now hanging upside down.

Riley: “She’s in trouble now!”

JD grabs his face, pulling hard, he wipes away much of the green mist, and stares straight at Annie E.

Stevens: “This can not be good!”

JD snaps his leg up, driving it into the forehead of Annie with a deadly front kick. Annie starts to swing from the cables as JD swings backward, driving his heel into her head with a reverse crescent kick! “THUGG!!! YOU SHOULD STAY DOWN NOW!!! EDWIN!!! I’M COMING FOR YOU!!” Everyone stands in shock as the eyes of rage return once more. JD leaps into the air, spinning quickly and thrusts his leg out, driving it forcefully into the cranium of Annie Eclectic. Blood spurts out of her mouth, as she just lies there limp. JD lands on his feet, looking at the unconscious upside down body of Annie Eclectic. He stares hard as the ref grabs her arm, JD shoves the ref out of the way and pulls the cable down. Letting Annie’s shoulders rest on the mat JD makes the cover.

ONE…

TWO…

THREE!!!

“Du Haste” rumbles over the speakers as the ref reluctantly raises Jay Dawg’s hand. JD slowly makes his way back to the ring, holding his ribs as Funyon makes the announcement.

Funyon: “The winner of this match by pinfall… and STILL SWF HARDCORE CHAMPION!!! JAY DAWG!!!”

Another ref passes JD his title, and he holds it up at the center of the ramp, before barely making his way up the ramp.

Stevens: “Well Jay Dawg has defended his title in one of the sicker matches around!”

Riley: “He tuned her!”

Stevens: “That was sick! Jay Dawg has lost it!”

Riley: “Meh! People didn’t complain when Edwin snapped!”

Stevens: “Shut up!”

Riley: “Jay Dawg just made this his personal playground! Ha ha! I love it!”

Stevens: “Whatever. Stay tuned folks, we still have that monstrous wargames to come!”

Riley: “Yay! More violence!”

Camera cuts to ad for Wargames.

July 29, 2002

The Regenerate himself, Mercury, stands in a hallway, deep in the bowels of the key arena. He leans up against the wall, brooding. Stuck in an unwanted team with Ced Ordonez, doing nothing but jobbing, not even booked on the PPV. Things would change. Oh, they would change.

As he leans there, Chris Wilson walks around the corner, twisted around and yelling something back down the hall. His black coat flows around him and he doesn’t see Mercury, bumping right into him. Wilson turns around quickly and sees the man he just bumped into. Mercury just glowers at him as he steps back and adjusts his Ruby Juliet Oakleys, which remain on for some odd reason, even inside late at night.

“Mercury! How’d your match go tonight? I’ve been busy…oh wait.”

“Cute, Wilson.”

The evil genius smiles. “Wasn’t it Ground Zero last year when we were both competing for the championship? What the hell happened to you, man? You’re not even freaking booked, I’m going to win the main event in the greatest WF match ever. Don’t you feel even a little like a piece of crap?”

Mercury pulls himself up away from the wall and gets right in Wilson’s face. “You should just move along, my friend. This is none of your business.”

Wilson’s smile disappears and he becomes deathly serious. “You’re going to make me? At least you haven’t lost your sense of humor.”

Mercury’s the one smiling now. “So this main event is a big deal to you, huh? We’ll just see how that plays out then.” Mercury starts to walk away, turning around to face Wilson as he backpedals. “Maybe I’ll see you tonight, bro. Never know.”

Wilson sneers in his general direction as he disappears around the corner, the crowd “Ooing” at the thought of someone throwing a wrench into Wilson’s plans for tonight as we cut back to ringside…

July 29, 2002

The camera does the customary pan of the keyed up Key Arena audience to transition between segments before focusing on the commentator’s table.

Stevens: “Welcome back ladies, gents, and everything in between to SWF Ground Zero! Three matches down, three to go here tonight in the Key Arena!”

Riley: “Oh come on Mark. There’s only one match the people have shelled out 35 bucks for and that’s Wargames at the end of the night.”

Stevens: “Right you are, for once, Bobby. The SWF’s first Wargames, pitting the Midnight Carnival vs. the Magnificent Seven in two rings enclosed by a steel cage will wrap up our evening…”

Riley: “And the Carnies careers.”

Stevens: “Once again, I have to agree with you, as many careers could be ended in the brutal brawl this promises to be.”

The camera cuts to Funyon in the ring, dressed in his usual three-piece tuxedo, raising the microphone to his lips.

Funyon: “Ladies and gentlemen and Bob Riley, this next encounter is set for one fall and will be held under standard SWF rules. The winning tag team will be declared the number one contenders for the SWF tag team titles and will face off with Edwin MacPhisto and Chris Raynor (the crowd pops at the mentioning of the two beloved Carnies) at a later date.”

The opening lines of “Cold Contagious” by Bush fill the arena as the crowd noise jacks up in volume.

“You will get yours…”

“YOU WILL GET YOURS…”

White pyro and thick smoke engulfs the pinnacle of the entrance ramp as the fans fully explode with approval. As the gray smog disperses, the forms of two proud men can just barely be made out standing at the top of the ramp with their arms crossed in silence.

Funyon: “Introducing first at a combined weight of 499 pounds…”

Riley: “One of them should eat a sandwich and maybe they would weigh as much as a real tag team.”

Funyon: “and respectively from Miami, Florida and Muenchen, Germany. They represent X Force 9, Longdogger Pete and Tod de…Kin…deeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeessssssssssssssssssss!”

Pete raises a fist to the crowd in promising a forthcoming victory and the two men walk down the ramp while basking in the adulation of the fans.

Stevens: “XF9 leader Longdogger Pete and newest member Tod deKindes make their way to the ring. These two men engaged in a pair of terrific matches to earn each others mutual respect and to determine that Tod was indeed X Force 9 material.”

Riley: “The Highway Patrol and Tim Horner are XF9 material. I wish Marvel comics would just sue the bastards, so I don’t have to call their crappy matches anymore.”

Stevens: “Both these men are exciting ring technicians, contrary to what you think Bobby, and it will be interesting to see how they co-exist and work together after being opponents the past few weeks.”

The two members of XF9 enter the ring as their music dies down. Tod removes his shades and trench coat to hands these articles to a ring attendant as Pete continues to play to the adoring fans, the music dying down.

Funyon: “And their opponents…”

“Cities on Flame with Rock ‘n Roll” strikes up on the loudspeakers and is nearly drowned out by the violent jeering of the throng in attendance.

Funyon: “…at a combined weight of 563 pounds and representing the Magnificent 7, they are respectively from Anaheim, California and Reykjavik, Iceland. TNT and Frost, collectively known as CHILLY…CHILLY…BANG… BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!”

Stevens: “Interesting that they would come out to Frost’s music.”

Riley: “Well…from what TNT tells me, Frost isn’t warming up to the Chilly Chilly Bang Bang name very well. This is sort of a peace offering.”

Stevens: “I can’t believe that someone as sophisticated and intelligent as Frost doesn’t see the intricate genius of such a name.”

Riley: “THAT’S SARCASM, MARK, DON’T THINK I DON’T KNOW SARCASM WHEN I HEAR IT!”

Stevens: (sarcastic tone dripping now) “Parish the thought, I know that it’s impossible to get anything past you.”

Riley: “That’s better.”

Frost and Thompson emerge from the backstage curtain. TNT raises both arms to the audience and soaks in their booing with pure glee. Frost’s eyes narrow as he stares at the two figures in the ring and then he takes off in a full run toward the squared circle. TNT’s eyes go wide at the surprise move from his partner and he takes off to catch up.

Stevens: “Frost looks on fire to get this one going.”

Frost slides in under the bottom ring rope and quickly pops to his feet, showing an exceptionally rare burst of speed in his motions. He rushes toward the upper right ring corner where Tod deKindes stands facing the crowd. At their insistent roar, he spins around and is greeted by a massive clothesline by Frost that sends him flipping over the ring ropes to the floor! Longdogger Pete rushes to blindside Frost, but is taken out himself by a tackle from TNT to his side! They fall into the ropes and Thompson straddles the Miami Menace to fire down some stiff, bruise-inducing punches. Frost steps through the middle ropes and drops to the floor in front of deKindes, who is recovering on the outside.

Stevens: “There is no love loss between Frost and deKindes, as a feud between them was just heating up as they left the SJL.”

Riley: “And Frost seems more than happy to rekindle it. Hey…have you noticed how we keep making heat references to Frost. Freaky!”

Frost bends down to pick Tod up by the sides of his head and keeps him off balanced with a headbutt square to his forehead. Frost then unceremoniously tosses Tod down to the outside protective mats in a heap. In the ring, referee Matthew Kivell tries to restore order by yelling at all four men as the bell sounds.

*** DING DING DING ***

Stevens: “We’re underway as Frost and deKindes brawl wildly on the outside…”

Riley: “And TNT and Pete brawl wildly on the inside!”

Thompson leaps to his feet off of Pete and drags the man up by his wrist to whip into the far ropes. TNT stands his ground in the center of the ring and holds his arm out for a clothesline, but Pete ducks it and heads toward the opposite ropes. TNT turns and is caught off guard by a flying Pete who makes with a Lou Thesz press to knock Thompson to the canvas! The fans scream as Pete returns the mounted punches from earlier in a prompt revenge attack!

Stevens: “We’re not even a minute in and this match has already devolved into complete chaos!”

Riley: “Devolve would mean that it started on a higher plain. This damn thing was born out of chaos!”

Frost continues to work Tod over on the outside with a series of punches and kicks. deKindes is up on his feet and trying to back away from Frost in order to gain his bearings. Frost fires a blistering chop into Tod’s chest and the meaty slap literally echoes throughout the arena. The pain of the blow wakes Tod up like a stiff shot of bourbon and he returns as good as he gets with a chop of his own to Frost’s massive chest! Frost takes a step back from the chop, but quickly gathers his composure to return fire. Tod chops back again. Frost hits another chop. Tod. Frost. Tod. Frost. Tod. Frost.

Riley: “Chop-fest 2k2 rages on the outside and deKindes is being severely out powered.”

Stevens: “But not outhearted, as he determinedly stands his ground.”

Riley: “Outhearted? You have got to stop reading those Chicken Soup for the Soul books.”

Pete stands up in the ring and drags TNT up by his left wrist in order to whip the explosive one into the bottom half of the ring ropes. Thompson reverses to send Pete for the ride as he twists to take the ropes in the back. TNT backs up slightly to stand near the top half of the ring with Frost and Tod still exchanging chops on the outside. Gaining speed with each step, Pete launches himself into the air with a rare cross body aimed right for Taylor! Thompson drops to the canvas and yells, “incoming” to his partner on the floor. Frost and Tod both turn their attentions to the ring due to TNT’s strange message, but the warning becomes painfully clear as the six foot six, 272-pound frame of the Longdogger comes soaring over the ring ropes! Frost bends his knees and buckles down to become an immovable wall and catches Pete sideways across his chest with stunningly little effort, drawing a shocked gasp from the amazed audience.

Stevens: “HE CAUGHT HIM! HE CAUGHT HIM! PETE IS ALMOST AS BIG AS FROST AND HE CAUGHT HIM IN MID-AIR!”

Frost turns sideways as he repositions Pete’s weight to hold him and is now facing deKindes. Tod wastes no time in making a standing leap into the air and nails his own partner in the back with a textbook dropkick that sends both men down to the floor in a pile, with Pete splashing on top of Frost! The fans pop again and Tod looks back up at the ring as he feels something looming over him. The hulking mass, revealed as TNT by the constantly flashing cameras that illuminate his figure, places both of his large hands on the top ring rope and, in a stunning chain of events, slingshots himself up and over with his knee cocked at the ready! TNT strikes Tod in the top of his head with his knee and they collapse into their own tortured heap of flesh, bones, and dreadlocks.

Riley: “THIS IS INSANE! AND WE STILL HAVE WAR GAMES YET TO COME!”

Kivell starts his count out on the inside. (One) All four men attempt to untangle themselves from their opponents and make it to their feet. (Two) Everyone staggers up as Frost and TNT grab Pete and Tod by their wrists before they can catch their breaths. (Three) Frost and TNT attempt to whip the XF9 members into each other, but their whips are reversed and they go crashing into themselves and fall to the floor! (Three) Tod and Pete slide back into the ring and raise their arms to the excitedly screaming audience.

Riley: “Don’t forget that Frost and Thompson are scheduled to appear in that very same War Games match-up later this evening. They have to keep something in reserve, they can’t blow themselves up here with only one match remaining to recoup on.”

Stevens: “However, this is it for XF9 tonight, they can go all out, and appear to be doing so!”

Tod points to the far ropes and then down at TNT and Frost staggering up on the outside. Pete nods his head to let Tod know that he understands and gives him a thumbs up. deKindes dashes into the ropes and bounces off straight for Pete. Longdogger leans to his side with his arms out to catch Tod in the chest and stomach, and hoists him up and over the ropes in a flipping motion! Flashbulbs pop as deKindes hangs in the air for a moment, pitching over to make with a senton splash onto both Chilly Chilly Bang Bang members. The two men take a step back and each grab a leg as Tod floats down to them. They ride Tod’s momentum down to the ground and pulverize him into the thin black mats over the concrete floor!

Stevens: “DOUBLE POWERBOMB! THEY BOTH CAUGHT DEKINDES AND MURDERED HIM WITH A DOUBLE POWERBOMB!”

Riley: “Note to X Force 9: don’t go the lucha route, it doesn’t work for you guys.”

A shocked Longdogger Pete bends over the ropes and tries to snag TNT by his hair as he stands up. Thompson throws his head back to avoid Pete’s hand and catches him about the ankles. He yanks Pete down and drags him to the outside.

Stevens: “Everyone’s back out on the floor and I can’t remember the last time I saw such a brutal slugfest.”

Riley: “Here’s a stupid question. Who are the legal men here?”

TNT brawls down the ringside area with Pete as Frost jerks Tod to his feet and tosses him into the ring. The big Icelander follows suit after pulling himself to the ring apron by the second rope. Tod crawls across the ring with a hand on his sore back from the powerbomb on the floor and Frost methodically stalks him from behind.

Stevens: “The legal men appear to be Frost and Tod.”

Riley: “The legal men appear to be whoever is in the ring at one time. Kivell has just decided to toss the rulebook out the window here tonight. Not that he has ever read the rulebook, but that’s neither here nor there.”

Frost bends and hooks one arm under Tod’s right armpit and the other over his throat. He hoists Tod straight up off the mat in a Cobra Clutch and his feet dangle in the air. Before Frost can set him down and subsequently lock the hold tight, deKindes rides the upward thrust of being yanked off the canvas to flip over Frost’s head and wraps his arms around the big man’s waist.

Stevens: “I’VE NEVER SEEN ANYONE COUNTER A COBRA CLUTCH LIKE THAT BEFORE!”

Riley: “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Cobra Clutch countered before. Go Joe!”

Tod tries to German suplex Frost over, but he manages to grab the nearby top rope and Tod goes sprawling back to the mat on the force of his own tugging. He rolls through it and pops to his feet. Frost turns around to receive a spear right to his gut and the two men spill through the ring ropes to the floor. Kivell walks over to start his count out, but is interrupted as TNT slings Pete into the ring and comes in after him.

Riley: “In this match, I’m calling that a tag.”

Pete stands up with his head down and his body bent at the waist. Thompson grabs Pete with a headlock and sprints across the ring with the XF9 leader’s body trailing behind him. He springs into the air and plants LDP face first into the mat.

Stevens: “Running bulldog by TNT in the ring as Frost and Tod make it to their feet on the outside.”

deKindes tries to capitalize with a wild haymaker, but Frost ducks under it and puts a hand on Tod’s side to spin him around. Now back to front, Frost picks Tod up by the waist and crashes him down tailbone first over his knee in an atomic drop. The German wunderkind flops to the ground holding his lower back in agony.

Riley: “And Tod leaves his feet again, courtesy of an atomic drop.”

In the ring, Thompson has Pete back up and across his shoulders in a fireman’s carry. He throws Pete’s legs back in going for a Diamond Cutter to complete the TKO, but LDP pushes himself off of TNT’s shoulder and lands feet first on the mat. He scoops Thompson up with an arm between his legs and his other hand on his shoulder to drape him momentarily across his own back before slamming him down with a Samoan drop.

Stevens: “The fans pop at the Samoan drop from Pete, but I doubt if they can really follow what is going on here.”

Riley: “We’re hardly keeping up and we are professionals.”

Stevens: “I wouldn’t speak so quick for yourself there. (noticing the outside action) What is Frost doing?”

Frost has deKindes up with his head between his legs and both arms hooked under the elbows.

Riley: “HE’S GOING TO GIVE TOD THE EARLY WINTER ON THE FLOOR! HE’S GOING TO BREAK HIS DAMN BACK IN HALF!”

Frost flips Tod up and to his chest as deKindes attempts to squirm free. He shakes his arms loose from Frost’s grip and wraps his hands around the man’s head to pull himself up. Tod is sitting facing Frost with his legs draped over his shoulders. deKindes locks his ankles in an X around Frost’s back to steady himself and starts hammering stiff right hands straight down into the man’s face. Frost totters back as Tod wildly creams the Icelandic Iceman with crazed punches.

Stevens: “TOD FIGHTS OUT OF THE EARLY WINTER AND IS JUST KILLING FROST AS HE RIDES HIM AROUND LIKE A BUCKING BRONCO!”

Riley: “Play with that sentence in your mind and it’s not a pretty picture.”

--- silence ---

Stevens: “EWE!”

deKindes rears back and allows his feet to slide up the back of Frost’s neck, and ranas him head over heels to the floor mats with a solid splat! Meanwhile, Pete is the first to make it to his feet in the ring. He takes a quick breather, sweat pouring from his forehead and staining his trademark Hawaiin shirt, as he looks down at the stunned Thompson on the mat. He picks up the man’s right leg and spins it around his own leg and under TNT’s right. Pete falls to the mat and places his free leg over Thompson’s bent one to secure the figure four! Thompson writhes in unbearable torture and LDP simply cinches up more on the submission, causing TNT to yelp out for mercy.

Stevens: “And the only clear advantage so far in this bout has come to pass as Longdogger Pete slows down TNT with a figure four submission hold!”

Riley: “Maybe the action has settled down in the ring, but look at Todski and Frosty still going at it on the outside as the two exchange stinging uppercuts across their faces! Frost, with the glaring size and strength advantage, gains the brawling momentum he needs and…FLOORS TOD TO THE MAT WITH A SHORT CLOTHESLINE!!!”

Meanwhile inside the ring, Pete still stubbornly torques on TNT’s legs, liquidizing them within the grasps of his own as referee Mathew Kivell constantly checks on TNT.

“DO YOU QUIT!?!?”

“ASK HIM!”

“DO YOU QUIT!?!?!?”

”ASK HIM!”

”I DID! TNT!”

“SUBMIT!”

“TNT! DO YOU SUBMIT!?!?!?”

“NEVER! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Riley: “TNT simply CANNOT submit in this match. If he can’t hold up against Longdogger, then how can he expect to compete with the likes of the Midnight Carnival?”

Stevens: “Then again, does he really want to stay in that hold and risk a weakened limb? It might be better to give up now and save himself for later.”

The Miami Menace constricts Thompson’s legs even tighter.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“TAP!”

“TAYLOR! DO YOU SUBMIT!?!?”

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“DAMMIT! JUST SUBMIT!!!!!!”

“I WON’T!”

The loud exchange juices the crowd, who encourage LDP to ratchet the hold even more. On the outside, Frost sends two short kicks to Tod’s stomach as he lays stunned on the ground. The big man looks to the ring to see his partner in trouble and rolls into the squared circle under the bottom rope.

Riley: “Blow the bugle and warn the Indians, the cavalry has arrived.”

Frost glides up to his knees and slides across the mat to drop a double axe handle to Pete’s face. Kivell yells at Frost and tries to pull him off of LDP as he peppers the Longdogger with a series of right hands.

Stevens: “They’re not Indians, they are Native Americans.”

Riley: (ticked off) “Maybe I meant the Cleveland Indians, ever think of that.”

Kivell yanks Frost off of Pete by his shoulders and shakes a finger in his face, threatening to disqualify him. Frost’s eyes narrow and his teeth grit, as he obviously ponders knocking Kivell out to earn a proper dq, but thinks better of it and slinks out of the ring to stand on the apron. deKindes crawls around the ring on his hands and knees and gingerly pulls himself up to the apron and sits in his corner, breathing hard and holding his injured back.

Stevens: “The action finally settles down after that blistering start.”

Riley: “Now I suppose I’ll have to call an actual match.”

Stevens: “It’s not like you ever have before.”

TNT and LDP lie in the ring, both men struggling to stay lucid and crawl to the their partner to make the first proper tag of the night. They pass each other with all eyes on their corner and not a thought to the other man.

Stevens: “Tags are needed by both men, but I have to question how fresh the grapplers on the outside really are.”

Riley: “It’s like bandaging up the injured soldiers and sending them back out on the battlefield as reinforcements.”

Tod pulls himself to his feet and reaches out a hand to make the tag, trying hard to ignore the searing spasms in his back. Frost extends his arm likewise as TNT lifts his head up to stare at his partner and scrapes his damaged legs across the mat.

Riley: “The race…er…the creep is on.”

TNT puts his arms underneath him and pushes off and over in one last desperate lunge. He grazes Frost’s hand with his own and rolls out to the apron. Kivell points at Frost to signify the legal tag as he lumbers into the ring. LDP props himself up on his right arm while stretching out his left. His gnarled fingers are a scant breath away from touching Tod’s, but Frost skips over Pete and rams a forearm into Tod’s head. deKindes loses his grip on the top rope and plunges backwards off the apron to strike the floor spread eagle. The fans groan in sympathy and disgust at the nasty bump.

Stevens: “Tod really cracked his back and skull on that one. It’s a wonder that he’s not split open, but he does look to be totally out of it.”

Riley: “More importantly that leaves LDP alone with Frost. I say that makes the pin academic.”

Frost bends down to take Pete by the head and pulls him up to his knees. In desperation, Longdogger rockets a forearm up between Frost’s legs for the rare, but effective, Lo’dogger.

Stevens: “Good thing scholastics are not one of your strong points.”

Frost drops to his knees holding his hands over his groin, his face grimacing as it turns a beet red. LDP turns his head around to his corner, but there is no encouraging face of deKindes there to greet him. Pete slaps the mat in frustration and wobbles up to his feet.

Stevens: “It’s hard to believe, but LDP’s partner is worse off than he is at this point.”

Riley: “That’s saying something. I’ve been to the man’s house, talk about squandering your money.”

Pete rips Frost’s left arm away from his sore crotch and clamps it in an armbar to slow the pace down even more and give himself a breather. Frost takes a deep breath to clear his head and stands up. He reaches across his body with his right arm and jabs his thumb into Pete’s throat. The ref admonishes Frost as LDP releases the armbar and backs up into the lower right ring corner holding his throat.

Stevens: “A cheap shot by Frost breaks the armbar.”

Riley: “It got the job done. Use anything at your disposal.”

While Frost protests with the referee, TNT chokes LDP from behind to draw the ire of the fans. Tod pulls himself back to the apron on the opposite side of the ring, glassy eyed and woozy. Frost pushes Kivell away from him and walks into his corner to give LDP a knee to the midsection before tagging TNT.

Stevens: “Thompson back in and we’ll have to see how well his legs hold up for him here.”

Riley: “Because that is going to tell how well they hold up for him later in Wargames.”

Taylor climbs into the ring between the middle ropes and hooks his arms around Pete’s torso to lift him up horizontal to the mat and smashes down with a side slam. He makes a lateral press for the cover.

ONE!

TWO!

TH-

Stevens: “LDP kicks out of the cover in our first pin attempt of the match.”

Riley: “Frost and TNT just want this match to be over now. They have spent too much energy that they need for later on.”

Thompson stands up while pulling Pete up by his hair. He position LDP off to the side and grapevines his left arm and leg with his own right to drop him back to the mat with a Russian leg sweep. He makes the cover again.

ONE!

TWO!

THR-

Stevens: “Another kick out from the never say die Longdogger.”

Riley: “These are set up move TNT! Get it together hit with something that has mustard on it.”

Undaunted, Thompson cockily rises up while pulling Pete up with him. He cinches the man in a front facelock and drapes his arm over his shoulder while grabbing Pete’s tights. With a snap, he hoists Pete upside down and drives him head first into the canvas.

Riley: “BRAINBUSTER! Now, that had mustard, relish, tomato and a good bit of pickle on it.”

Stevens: “HERE’S THE COVER!”

ONE!

TWO!

THRE-

Stevens: “FOOT ON THE ROPES!”

Kivell taps TNT on the shoulder as he notices LDP’s foot lazily slipping onto the near bottom rope. Thompson snatches the foot up and goes for another cover.

ONE!

TWO!

THRE-

LDP raises a shoulder to break the count and the audience releases their collectively held breaths.

Stevens: “A close call there, but LDP will not go quietly out of this contest.”

Riley: “Then he can go kicking and screaming, so as long as the bastard goes.”

Thompson roughly jerks Pete to his feet by his wrist and whips him into the near ropes. LDP comes off, still too out of it to counter any move, and takes a sharp clothesline that sends both wrestlers to the mat. TNT starts crawling for the near corner breathing hard and ascends the turnbuckles slow, yet sure footed.

Stevens: “TNT is most likely looking for the Shell Shock here and if that doesn’t put LDP away, Chilly Chilly Bang Bang might have more than they bargained for here with XF9.”

Thompson measures LDP on the canvas, then glances over at Tod to gauge that he is not going to try anything. He bends his knees for extra leverage and then flies off with his elbow bent back for the top rope drop. TNT’s long and lanky form hangs in the air for a second before gravity forces him to hurtle back to earth. Unfortunately, there is nothing but the canvas for him to hit as Pete rolls to his left out of the way. The crowd pops mad as Taylor bounces back into the air from the impact. He flops to the canvas and grabs his sore elbow while writhing in pain.

Stevens: “HE MISSED! HE MISSED! PETE IS CRAWLING AND CLAWING TO REACH HIS CORNER!”

LDP literally drags his tortured body along the canvas trying to reach deKindes. Tod still looks shaky, but game to go as he reaches for the tag. TNT recovers enough to notice LDP attempting the tag and he lunges over to grab the man’s ankle, but it’s too little too late as one last shove puts him in arm’s length of his partner and new X Force 9 stable mate.

Stevens: “WE HAVE A TAG!”

Riley: “AH, HELL!”

The crowd explodes for the hot tag as Tod vaults through the ropes and comes crashing down with a knee to the back of TNT’s head. Thompson let’s go of Pete’s ankle and he slumps out to the apron. Tod pulls Taylor to his feet by his right arm and whips him crisply into the ropes. TNT springs off the strands fast and has no time to avoid a bent over Tod from catching him in the stomach with his head. Tod flips him up and over to crash into the canvas on a backdrop. Tod then spins down and around to pop up in the heel corner and plasters a caught off guard Frost with a forearm to the bridge of his nose. The Icelander trips back off the apron and plummets straight down to the floor. He lands on his feet, but lowers his head hurt.

Riley: “I guess this means you have to say…”

Stevens: “HE’S A HOUSE OF FIRE!”

TNT sits up on the mat dazed. deKindes bounds up to the near second rope and springboards off with a dropkick to the back of Thompson’s head. TNT is knocked forward and hurtles over to lay stomach down on the canvas. He runs back to the far ropes to build up some speed, but is tripped by Frost still recovering on the floor. Tod awkwardly smacks down on his face and rolls over to his back. Frost places his head back down on the apron to fake that he is still stunned and confuse the ref, who has no idea what just happened.

Stevens: “Another cheap shot from Frost! Does this man know the meaning of the word fair?”

Riley: “Sure, but he also knows the meaning of ‘win at all costs.’”

Tod throws his arms back to place his hands on the canvas and pushes himself out to the floor. He puts a hand on Frost’s broad shoulder and jerks him back to face him. Frost is genuinely surprised to see Tod and is more surprised to take a solid right hand to the face. Frost staggers back and deKindes press in to fire another blow. Frost pivots around and tries to run away, but Tod is in hot pursuit.

Riley: “Frost is not the legal man! What the hell is he doing out there?!”

Stevens: “Legal or not, Frost attempted to stick his nose in where it didn’t belong and is now paying the price.”

Kivell leans over the ropes and yells at the two brawling men to break it up. Tod catches the stumbling away Frost by the back of his head and slam him face first into the top of the steel guardrail with a clang. Frost crumbles to the floor and Tod scurries back into the ring where TNT is just starting to stir.

Stevens: “The window of opportunity is thrown wide open and deKindes could pick up what might be termed as an upset win for his stable right here!”

Riley: “Taking CCBB out in a game of Shoots ‘n Ladders would be termed an upset victory for those chumps.”

Tod lifts TNT up by his shoulders and then reaches between his legs to grab his dangling left arm as the audience roars with anticipation.

Stevens: “HE’S SETTING UP THE SPIRIT BREAKER!”

Tod lifts Thompson up and around to drape on his shoulder. Taylor’s head pops up and his eyes fly open as he fights out of deKindes’ grasp and slips to the mat behind him.

Stevens: “THOMPSON WAS PLAYING OPOSSUM!”

Riley: “I prefer the more elegant term of gold bricking.”

TNT spins Tod around by the shoulder and sends a short kick into his ribs to double him over. He hooks the man up under his elbows and flips him upside down with his skull pointing straight down to the canvas. He rams the tip of Tod’s cranium into the ring tarp and it is hard to say whether the snap heard is the ring giving way or Tod’s neck.

Riley: “DYNO-MITE!”

Stevens: “I guess this means you have to say…”

Riley: “STICK A FORK IN HIM HE’S DONE!”

Thompson rolls Tod over and flops on top for the pin.

ONE!

TWO!

THRE-

The fans pop uncontrollably as LDP sails out of nowhere from the top rope with a leg drop to TNT’s back in order to break the pin.

Riley: “WHERE THE HELL DID HE COME FROM?!”

Stevens: “IT DOESN’T MATTER! THE LONGDOGGER LEG DROP SAVES THE LOSS!”

Pete quickly pulls a shocked and injured TNT off of deKindes and double underhooks both of the man’s arms while holding him off to the side. He lifts Thompson slightly off the mat and cracks him into the mat with the double arm DDT.

Stevens: “LONGDOGGER CLOGGER!”

Riley: “CLOG THIS, BITCH! HERE COMES FROST!”

Frost slides back into the ring and pops to his feet. Kivell stands off to the side, giving up any attempts to restore order, just wondering how it will all end up. Pete makes his feet and throws out his arm to catch the charging Frost with a clothesline. Frost pulls up short and jutes to his right. He seizes Pete’s left wrist and comes up under his side with a short, yet powerful punch to the side of his chest.

Stevens: “TOUCH OF FROST!”

Riley: “AND THAT LEADS TO ONE THING!”

However, it doesn’t lead to what Bobby Riley was counting on as a wave of cheering rifles through the crowd. The camera swings around to the entranceway to catch what is causing the disruption and it’s the last person anyone would guess to see.

Stevens: “IT’S RENEGADE! IT’S THE FORMER SJL WORLD CHAMPION RENEGADE!”

Riley: “HE’S GOT A STEEL CHAIR! THIS IS A CONSPIRACY!”

Frost is oblivious to the approaching grappler as he locks LDP in a standing head scissors to set up the Early Winter, facing away from the entrance. Renegade slides into the ring and drops his chair as he slithers to his feet and dashes toward Frost. He jumps to the side of the man while smoothly hooking him in a ¾ face lock and dragging the big iceman along for the ride. Frost’s chin impales Renegade’s shoulder as he sits out to land on the mat.

Stevens: “THE RENEBREAK! THE RENEBREAK! THE RENEBREAK!”

Riley: “SHUT THE HELL UP! I HEARD YOU THE FIRST TIME!”

Matthew Kivell has seen enough and has no choice, but to call for the bell.

DING DING DING

Renegade darts back to pick up his chair and brings it crashing down onto Frost’s back as he tries to stand up. With a wince, Frost drops back to the mat and vaults to the floor. Renegade spin around to catch TNT trying to make his feet and plasters him in the back to send the Explosive One hurtling to the outside as well.

Stevens: “LOOK AT HIS SHIRT! LOOK AT RENEGADE’S SHIRT!”

Riley: “OH, DON’T TELL ME, NOT ANOTHER ONE!”

Renegade holds the chair down to his side and point a thumb at his black shirt embroidered with bold green letters that spell out, “XF9.” The riotous fans start chanting “X-F-9! X-F-9!” as LDP and Tod struggle to the their feet. Frost and TNT regroup over by the entrance way and point up to the ring while holding their sore backs.

Funyon: (from ringside) “Here are your winners by the results of a disqualification, CHILLY…CHILLY…BANG…BAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGG!”

A few light boos emit from the audience, but most are still going gonzo for the sudden appearance of Renegade to save his new compatriots.

Riley: “THIS IS A DAMN CONSPIRACY! MACPHISTO HIRED X FORCE 9 TO WEAKEN FROST AND TNT BEFORE WARGAMES! THEY DIDN’T CARE ABOUT THE DAMN WIN! THEY DIDN’T CARE ABOUT THE TAG TITLE SHOT! THEY’RE IN CAHOOTS WITH THAT DAMN MACPHISTO! I KNOW IT!

Stevens: “REGARDLESS, X FORCE 9 HAS INCREASED THEIR NUMBER BY TWO HERE TONIGHT AND THE SWF STABLE WILL REALLY HEAT UP NOW!”

Renegade waves Frost and TNT to ‘bring it’ as they back up the entrance ramp pointing their fingers at him and shouting curses.

Stevens: “LET’S SEND IT TO THE BACK AS WE PREPARE FOR THE NEXT MATCH! DON’T GO ANYWHERE, WE HAVE ONLY ONE MATCH UNTIL WARGAMES!”

The camera fades as Frost and TNT reach the top of the stage, damaged but still with more than enough left in them for the approaching war to come.

July 29, 2002

A brief sponsor ad for the SWF disappears, and we return to live action from the Key Arena in Seattle!! This Washington State crowd is quick to react, and as the Smarkstron flickers back on to life, they rise to their feets, waving their homemade signs around frantically, with only the catchiest signs getting the honor of 3 seconds of air time!! Showing on the giant screen is a video of the next match and how it came to be. The stage is set, with the entrance way being an open area fifty feet wide. The technicians have their equipment to the left of the entrance, while on the right, lies the decorative car wrecks to simulate "Ground Zero".

"(Mark) Ground Zero, ladies and gentlemen! We're baaacckkkk!!!"

The camera sets its view on the announcers' table, where as usual, Mark Stevens is here to entertain us with his play by play and Bobby Riley is here to insult Mark's every word, and in the process, disagreeing with him as well.

"(Mark) My, what a Pay Per View! How can this get any better?! Oh yeah, we're just moments away from the highly anticipated Streetfight for the SWF Intercontinental Television Title! Pitting Erek Taylor against the Boston Strangler!!"

"(Riley) Shut up, I'm waiting for WarGames."

"(Mark) This is my job."

"(Riley) This is my curse. Who am I? I'm Bobby Riley."

"(Mark) And I'm Mark Stevens. Good night everyone!"

"(Riley) What the fuc-"

"(Mark) -don't even start. Folks, let's go down to Funyon."

The scene once again changes places, zooming out to give the viewers at home a picture of the ring. Funyon stands at the center, trusty microphone by his side as he prepares to announce the following match. The arena dims down, and the Smarkstron goes completely black as “Burn to Burn” by Static X begins to play. Boos flourish inside the Key Arena as Strangler emerges from behind the curtains, clad in his wrestling attire, a battered black trenchcoat, and a pair of shades. The M7 behemoth flashes his sadistic grin before moving down the ramp, ignoring the countless insults given by the front row. He slides into the ring before removing his shades and tossing it aside.

"(Funyon) The following match is scheduled to be a Streetfight for the SWF ICTV CHAMPIONSHIP!!!! In this matchup, there will be no disqualification and falls count anywhere inside and outside the arena. If any Magnificent 7 member other than the challenger is to interfere in this matchup, the challenger will forfeit the match immediately. Introducing first, the challenger, from Boston, Massachuchetts, weighing in at 303 pounds! A member of the Magnificent Seven.... the BOSTON STRAAANNNNGLLLLEEERRRR!!!!!!"

Strangler circles the ring, once again showered by the many boos from the crowds. He begins to stretch his arms, waiting until finally, the opening chime to "Downfall" begins to play. The lights in the arena sparks up, and the colors are many, transforming the Key Arena into a nightclub!

"Can I break away? Push me away,

make me fall, just to see,

another side of me..."

"Push me away, you can't see,

what I see,

the other side of me...."

"YOU CAN'T SEE ANYTHING ON THE OTHER SIDE OF ME!!"

"I WALK! I CRAWL! LOSING EVERYTHING, READY FOR A DOWNFALL!!!"

As the chorus ends, the entrance way is lighted with sparks of flame. The beginning of the chorus cues the explosion, which conceals the entrance area with smoke and debree! The crowds are waiting, cheering and screaming as the smoke parts, revealing the figure of Erek Taylor! Erek mindlessly spins around from his pose, and takes a moment to absorb the intensity of the audience. The ICTV Champion closes his eyes and stands there, listening to the chants of "Erek! Erek!" going on.

"(Funyon) And his opponent! From Anaheim, California, weighing in at 195 pounds, a member of X FORCE NINE.... he is the SWF Intercontinental Television Champion.... EREK!!! TAAAYYYLOOOORRRRR!!!"

At the mention of his nemesis' name, Strangler slides out of the ring and breaks off into a run towards the ICTV Champion. Strangler races in but Erek opens his eyes just in time and ducks a clothesline from Strangler!! Erek swings and connects with a fiery punch....

***Ding ding ding!!!***

....but the punch barely phases the behemoth! Strangler twists out a smile before retaliating with a hard hook, sending Erek staggering towards the ring! Strangler ventures forward, decking Erek with another punch before leading the ICTV Champion back into the ring. Strangler grabs hold of Erek's wrist, and with the snap of the wrist, he sends the Champion whipping to the ropes! Erek rebounds, and gets hoisted up by the side! Strangler goes for the sidewalk slam but Erek quickly wraps his legs around Strangler's head before driving it into the canvas with a headscissors takedown! Strangler piles back on his feet, and is quickly smothered with quick rights and lefts straight from the fists of the High Flying Prince himself, Erek Taylor!!

"(Mark) Strangler starting the match earlier than expected but the Champion is quick to react and is now starting his offense, which consists of aerial attacks and technical manuevers!"

"(Riley) It's too bad Erek is so stupid. He accepted this Streetfight stipulation! Now Strangler can use any chair, any clubs, any bats, anything he wants to knock that little bitch down for the 1, 2, 3."

Erek backs Strangler to the ropes with repetitive rights before grabbing the behemoth by the wrist and hurling him across the ring. Strangler rebounds and Erek leaps into the air, wrapping his legs around Strangler and attempting a hurricaranna- but Strangler scouts the manuever out, and wisely plays it out before at the last possible moment, plants Erek into the canvas with a hard powerbomb! Strangler quickly hooks the leg for the first cover of this matchup:

ONE!!!

TWO!!!

THR- and Erek kicks out. Strangler brings Erek back up, placing the Champion in a front facelock before grabbing hold of Erek's pants. Strangler hoists Erek into the air, and stalls for all the world to see: the inferiority of Taylor. Strangler renders a quick fall backwards, and nails the suplex. Erek piles back on his feet, but the strength of the Bostonian is taking effect early, and the High Flying Prince gets hammered with another right. Strangler ventures forward, swinging and connecting another right hand. Strangler grabs hold of Erek's wrist and whips him into the corner.

"(Mark) Strangler taking advantage early with a series of great moves."

"(Riley) Well, what did you expect? It *is* the Boston Strangler. He was dominating even before he left."

Erek, leaning helplessly on the turnbuckle, begins to scan the view, seeking for a way to counter attack. Unfortunately, Strangler is quick to react, sending another fist right into Erek's chin! Taylor grimaces in pain as Strangler grabs Erek by the wrist and whips him to the opposite corner, hard. Erek staggers forward, aching his back in pain as Strangler rages to the head of the line, and hammers Erek down with a lariat! The ICTV Champion rolls out of the ring instinctively, his entire body overpowered by the strength of the Boston Strangler. Strangler exits the ring, grabbing Erek by the hair before cannoning the Champion's head into the barricades! The front row is quick to react, and reaches forward and begins to tap Erek on the back. Strangler's superstition sets in, and yells at the fans, ordering them to get away from the Champion.

"(Mark) Now what was that for?"

"(Riley) Hey, those fans are not supposed to reach over the barricade. It's a sacred wall."

"(Mark) Then why did they build it to be only 3 feet tall? Besides, I think Strangler's worried that the fans may play a huge part in this match."

Strangler leads Erek over to the announcers' table before once again, grabbing Erek by the hair and slamming the Champion's head into the padding. Strangler grabs Erek by the wrist and hurls the XF9er right into the steel pole, sending him spinning out of proportions!! Erek tries to balance himself, but before he can, Strangler comes in again and nails yet another hard lariat!! The behemoth flashes a grin, and with that, the crowds responds with another wave of boos. He ignores them, and rolls Erek back into the ring. The ICTV Champion staggers to his feet before Strangler re-enters the ring. Erek swings a desperation right, which is easily caught by Strangler, who retaliates with a bone crushing uppercut! Taylor dangles about, head in distort and discomfort as Strangler squares himself up and drives a boot into the Champ's face!! Strangler goes for the cover:

ONE!!!

TWO!!!

THRE- OOOOOH!!! And Erek kicks out. Strangler doesn't discourage, his mind focused on winning like never before. The behemoth rolls out of the ring, and puts his stipulation into play, grabbing hold of the steel chair and tossing it inside.

"(Riley) Hell yes! Here comes the weapons!"

Strangler enters the ring, and grabs the chair in play. He rises to his nearly 6'10 height and raises the chair high above his head, waiting as Erek slowly staggers to his feet. The crowds are hesitant, and watches as Strangler takes a swing with the chair-

..........

- and misses! Erek evades the chair and quickly leaps into the air, performing a dropkick that sends Strangler staggering to the ropes as well as knocking the chair out of the behemoth's hands. Erek is a little slow getting back up, and pays for it as Strangler runs right back in and delivers another hard clothesline! The behemoth seizes control of the momentum, bringing Erek back up and driving him backwards with a massive headbutt. The M7 lieutenant grabs Erek by the wrist, and with all the strength he can muster, whips the ICTV Champion to the ropes. Erek rebounds, and instintively dives forward, aiming his forearm for Strangler's face!! OOOHH NOO!!! But the behemoth scouts it out, and quickly catches Erek in the air with a hold to the neck! Strangler prepares for the chokeslam, but changes his mind in midair and plants Erek down on the canvas with a spinebuster!! Erek's legs fly up, and Strangler catches it in the air, a grin emerging over his face. With that, Strangler drives his knee right into the crotch of the High Flying Prince!!!

"(Mark) LOW BLOW!! Strangler resorting to his dark and demented ways yet again."

"(Riley) Hey, Erek accepted to the stipulation. Strangler's just using it. There's nobody stopping Erek from using it himself."

Strangler brings Erek back up to his feet. Grabbing hold of the Champion's wrist, Strangler hurls him to the ropes. Erek rebounds, and as he rebounds, Strangler hoists the Champion into the air, body pressing Erek by the neck and waist! Strangler walks around, bench pressing Erek up and down and showing off his strength. The audience jeers, and Strangler lets Erek drop down on his shoulder before swiftly planting him into the canvas with a powerslam!!! The sadistic grin reappears on Strangler's face as the behemoth hooks the Champion's legs and goes for the cover:

ONE!!!

TWO!!!

THRE- OOOOH!!! Strangler tries for another cover, but yet again, Erek kicks out. The behemoth smiles, and brings the High Flying Prince back up to his feet. Erek suddenly bursts forward, lashing out with a hard chop across Strangler's chest.

"(Crowds) OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!!!!!!!!"

Erek delivers another chop, but Strangler retaliates almost instantly, lunging his head forward and colliding into Erek with another massive headbutt! Erek staggers back, allowing Strangler to use the ropes as engines to send the giant raging in with a spear!! The impact is tremendous, but somehow Erek piles back on his feet in only a matter of seconds. Strangler leads Erek over and throws him through the ropes and out to the mat below.

"(Mark) Strangler looks like a completely different person tonight. He's focused and he's using everything to his advantage. I don't know but we may be seeing a new Champion tonight after all!"

"(Riley) That's what I've been trying to tell you all along!!"

Strangler exits the ring, and leads Erek towards the entrance, but until then, he grabs hold the head of the Champion, and throws it into the steel fence! Erek staggers around, as Strangler leads him more into the entrance area, the exit to the outside world. The ICTV Champion tries to fight back, swinging desperate rights and lefts which don't seem to phase the Boston Strangler at all! The behemoth ceases walking, and turns to deliver a massive headbutt to Erek Taylor!! The XF9er dangles about, trying to balance himself as Strangler rages back in and delivers-

THWACK!!! Another lariat!!! Erek crumples to the ground as the Strangler stands tall, absorbing the many jeers given by the audience! Strangler grabs Erek by the hair and drags the High Flying Prince back up to his feet. The cameras follow every single footstep as Strangler leads Erek into the curtains, and out to the parking lot.

"(Riley) Finally, a Streetfight that's actually taking place... in the streets!"

"(Mark) Now the danger is really setting in. Where's Strangler going?!"

The parking lot of the Key Arena is open with many vehicles parked left and right. The exit is at the far end and the cameraman scans the area as Strangler leads Erek over to a nearby vehicle and cannons the High Flying Prince into the hood of the car. A loud thud sounds about, and the car is quick to switch on its alarm. No matter, the fight continues. Strangler lays Erek on the hood, and uses his knee to press the Champion down. With the Champion pinned, Strangler lets his frustration that has been building the past few weeks out, raining down a flurry of hard rights and lefts to the body of Erek Taylor! Erek crosses his arms, attempting to block the behemoth's rampage but the strength of Strangler is just too overwhelming, and Erek is tossed from side to side from the punches. Strangler brings Erek back up and leads him over to the side of the vehicle before grabbing the Champion by the wrist and attempting a whip- OOH! Erek counters the whip and with all the strength he can muster, hurls the giant behemoth.....

THWANG!!!! The window breaks apart and Strangler's head goes through like a bag of bricks. The arena bursts into cheers as Erek slowly regains his composure and tries to capitalize. Strangler's face is covered with bits of glass, and the first sign of blood emerges, even though the blood is just from small cuts and scrapes.

"(Mark) And Strangler goes through the window! Erek Taylor reversed at the last possible moment."

"(Riley) Don't worry. One little scratch won't stop the Strangler."

Strangler pushes himself away from the shattered pieces of the window, and Erek is right there to greet him with a hard chop across the chest.

"(Crowds) OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!!!!!!!"

Erek delivers another chop, which receives the same response from the crowds. The ICTV Champion leads Strangler out on to the driveway, and there, connects with a hard right. Erek connects another punch, a third, a fourth, and a fifth before grabbing Strangler by the wrist and attempting to whip the behemoth into another vehicle. Strangler reverses the whip, but before he can attempt any sort of attack, Erek delivers a kick that doubles the giant M7 member over. Erek steps forward and wraps his arm around Strangler's head, and with a last breath, renders a quick fall backwards, driving Strangler's head into the concrete with a DDT!!! The referee stands there, watching as Erek slowly lays a hand on top of Strangler:

ONE!!!

TWO!!!

THRE- OOOOOH! Strangler kicks out!! Erek drops to the side, catching his breath as Strangler slowly pushes himself up to his feet. Erek piles back up as well and quickly fights the behemoth down with quick jabs to the face. Strangler is too slow to get up and is overrunned. He gets backed to the hood of a sedan, and Erek walks the other way, panting heavily until he sucks it up. Erek breaks off into a run, and at the last second, leaps into the air! A crossbody block- NO! Strangler lunges forward and catches Taylor in the air. He stands there, with the ICTV Champion wailing about. Strangler pauses, scanning the area before quickly falling backwards, flipping Erek into the air....

BONG!!!

....AND PLANTS HIM INTO THE WINDSHIELD OF THE SEDAN WITH A FALLAWAY SLAM!

"(Mark) OH!! AND STRANGLER RETURNS THE FAVOR!! FALLAWAY SLAM THROUGH THE WINDSHIELD!!"

"(Riley) Whoa whoa whoa. Heh, now it's gonna get interesting."

Strangler piles on to his feet, and walks to the battered body of Erek Taylor, which is lying on the windshield with cracks surrounding him. Strangler flashes a sadistic grin, and grabs hold of the windshield wiper before pulling it out of its socket! Strangler raises the wiper in the air, before swiftly bringing it down in an instant, nailing Erek in the forehead!! The ICTV Champion yells in anguish as his forehead is split apart. Blood begins to ooze down, but Strangler isn't done yet. The behemoth tears Erek's jersey apart, and raises the wiper before bringing it down in another encounter, this time, landing it on Erek's back.. THWACK!!

"(Mark) Oh my god! Strangler's torturing Erek Taylor with that windshield wiper. He's using it as a bat and is just scarring Erek Taylor for life."

The sounds are sickening, and the visuals are even more horrendous. Erek's back now begins to redden, with a clear mark of where the wiper hit. Strangler brings the wiper down again, and scars Erek with another mark. The behemoth chuckles and tosses the wiper aside before giving Erek a little pull. With that, Erek rolls down the hood helplessly before his back falls to the concrete below... Strangler goes down and hooks the leg for the cover:

ONE!!!

TWO!!!

THRE- OOOOH!! AND EREK KICKS OUT!! The giant behemoth, so focused and so relentless, continues the punishment, bringing Erek Taylor back up and pummeling him with a hard right. Erek dangles about, and Strangler comes in with another hard punch. The behemoth watches as Erek slowly collapses down on the floor once again, and with that, Strangler removes his belt.

"(Mark) Oh no! Don't do it Strangler! We don't want to see what's under there!"

Strangler holds on to the leather strap, and swiftly brings it down in a satisfying collision with Erek's back. The arena erupts in boos as Strangler brings the belt down again, making Erek's back full of red areas. Strangler tosses his belt aside, but instead of seeing Strangler making all our nightmares come true, the pants stay on and Strangler goes for the cover again, convinced that the preceding attack was enough:

ONE!!!

TWO!!!

THREE- OOOOH!!!

"(Mark) And somehow, someway, Erek is still kicking out!!"

"(Riley) You don't know how glad I am that those pants stayed on."

Strangler is shocked, but his desires prevent him from putting on another tantrum. The behemoth rises to his feet, bringing Erek along with him before swinging and connecting a fierce right. Erek bursts right back with a punch of his own. The two combatants exchange fierce right hands, either one willing to submit. But Strangler's strength proves to be the difference maker, and he wins the exchange. Strangler backs Erek down, delivering an ongoing onslaught of hooks and uppercuts that forces Erek on to another vehicle. Strangler ventures forward, but Erek absorbs a sudden dose of energy. He bursts forward suddenly, lashing out and connecting a hard chop across Strangler's chest!

"(Crowds) OOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!!!!!"

Erek thrusts his fist forward, connecting it with Strangler's neck. The M7 lieutenant begins to cough, and for that, gets pounded on with a combination of rights and lefts from the Champion. Erek grabs Strangler by the wrist and hurls him towards the vehicle with all his might- but Strangler thinks otherwise, countering the whip and sending Erek forward instead! Erek quickly scouts out his situation, and leaps up on the hood of the car at the last second. Hearing Strangler's footsteps draw near, Erek launches himself into the air again, spinning around and bringing a foot mindlessly across Strangler's face!! The giant crumples to the ground and Erek is quick to go down for the cover:

ONE!!!

TWO!!!

THRE- OOOH!! But the giant is still at the peak of his strength, and with no effort at all, body presses Erek into the air, stopping the count firmly. Strangler rolls aside and piles back on to his feet. He takes a moment to recooperate as the young flyer comes about, rocketing forward with another fistful. Strangler catches it in the air, and lunges his head forward, colliding with Erek in a nasty headbutt. Erek staggers back, and Strangler goes to take control again, driving a boot into Erek's face!

"(Mark) I've never seen the Boston Strangler so focused. It seems the animosity between these two have propelled their fighting skills."

"(Riley) Well it doesn't take a five year old to figure that one out. Strangler's not only here to win the title, he's here to take it and leave Erek in a broken mess."

Strangler scans the area, and notices a sitting security guard nearby watching the action. The behemoth approaches the guard, throwing the worker aside just to take hold of the steel chair! Strangler walks back to the weary Erek Taylor. The behemoth raises the chair up high, and with one mighty swing, lands the chair right on Erek's back! Taylor crumples to the ground, and Strangler flashes a satisfying grin before tossing the chair aside. He stands tall, and with one foot, kicks Erek over on to his back. Strangler places his boot on Erek's chest, cueing the referee to count:

ONE!!!

TWO!!!

THRE- OOH!!! But the cocky pin was just too light and Erek simply rolls back on to his stomach. Strangler pulls Erek back and goes for another cover, this time hooking the leg:

ONE!!!

TWO!!!

THRE- OOOOH!! Once and again, Erek Taylor kicks out!!

"(Mark) Erek Taylor refuses to lose!! He's being punished by the Boston Strangler and he's still kicking out!"

"(Riley) It doesn't make him better, though. He's just delaying the inevitable."

Strangler brings the resiliant Erek Taylor up on his two feet, draws his arm back before shooting it forward, connecting another fierce punch. Erek staggers back, trying oh so desperately to regain his composure as Strangler comes in for another punch. Taylor dodges it, and is quick to grab Strangler by the shins, tackling the giant behemoth down to the ground. Erek mounts himself on Strangler's back, quickly pulling the behemoth's leg as far as he can.

"(Mark) Erek with a comeback attempt. But with Strangler being so dominant, it's going to be so hard. It's a good strategy to try to take away Strangler's vertical base but how long will it last?"

"(Riley) It won't last long. Erek's not a technical wrestler, although he does have some knowledge of the submission side."

Strangler grinds his teeth to relieve the pain, but Erek doesn't stop there, letting go of the Single Crab and venturing up the body, where he applies a Camel Clutch on the Boston Strangler! The referee gets in front of the behemoth's face, asking for submission but Strangler stubbornly refuses. Erek lets go of the Camel Clutch and goes back to the leg area, once again, applying the Single Crab.

"(Mark) A series of submissions by Erek Taylor, and it's doing a pretty good job on confusing the giant."

Strangler gives a hard tug from his leg, successfully dragging Erek to the ground! The behemoth slowly piles back on to his feet, and regains his posure before lunging forward and swinging his massive arm! Erek eludes the clothesline, and with all the strength he can muster, circles his grasps around Strangler's waist and hoists the giant up before planting him firmly on the concrete with a diving spinebuster!!! Erek grabs Strangler by the legs, placing it into a "T" position before crossing it up and twisting around, firmly trapping the Boston Strangler with the Inverted Texas Cloverleaf!!

"(Mark) THERE IT IS!! COMET'S TAIL!! COMET'S TAIL!! Erek Taylor used that move to defeat Strangler on Smarkdown but will it work tonight?!"

The sight of the move again sparks countless cheers from the crowds as Erek holds on for his very dear life. Strangler is grimacing, rubbing his hands along the concrete floor to try to place his mind away from the pain. The referee gets right back to work, asking for submission, which obviously crosses Strangler's mind. But the Boston Strangler isn't going to let up now, he reaches into the air and prepares to slap the ground but instead, changes his mind and grabs the referee by the collar. With one hand, Strangler pulls the referee in, clipping the referee's shin from beneath him and sending the official right into Erek Taylor!!! Erek gets knocked down, releasing the Comet's Tail!!!

"(Riley) HA!! There we go!! Strangler's now the stupid dope you thought he was, huh, Taylor?"

"(Mark) Now that just isn't right."

"(Riley) Hey, it's no DQ. Strangler can hurt the referee, kill the referee, and it still won't matter. It's the rules."

Strangler staggers to his feet, his legs inflicted with so much harm, they are barely able to support the 300 pound frame of the Bostonian. Nevertheless, Strangler marches on. He ventures forward and swings a right, but Erek ducks under the outstretched arm of the Strangler and with lightning fast reflexes, grabs Strangler's arm and pulls it to the ground before swiftly applying the armbar!!

"(Mark) Brilliant strategy by Erek Taylor! He can't find anything to jump off of so he's using smarts to beat Strangler."

"(Riley) Beat Strangler? The match isn't even over yet and you're already claiming Erek has won."

"(Mark) ....I won't even bother to respond."

Strangler grimaces, trying to get Erek Taylor off him. The High Flying Prince's legs are placed heavily on Strangler's chest and neck, and Strangler is quick to think, tonight at least, and presses his teeth on Erek Taylor's left leg!!!

..........

And the arena lets out a long chorus of boos!! Erek releases the armbar and tends to his left leg. He pulls the sleeve of his pants up, to reveal a reddish bite mark! Erek staggers to his feet, and Strangler does so as well. Taylor heads towards the exit, trying to limp away as soon as possible. Strangler begins to stalk Erek, taking the time to tear off another windshield wiper to use as a weapon. The giant behemoth walks after the ICTV Champion, who limps towards the exit while also tending to his leg!

"(Riley) That's right, Erek! Run away!! Because that's the best you can do!!"

"(Mark) I can't believe Erek agreed to this matchup. It's no doubt that Strangler wanted this stipulation so everything he did could be legal.

"(Riley) Hence, the name of the match, Streetfight."

Strangler breaks off into a run, trying to catch up to the ICTV Champion. But at the sight of the Strangler, wailing his wiper around like a medieval knight, the High Flying Prince Erek Taylor takes off. Not at full speed, but still manages to get ahead of the Boston Strangler. Erek heads out into the open, and Strangler is still on pursuit.

"(Riley) Well, that's honor right there. Running away from the fight, huh."

"(Mark) You would be running too if your opponent bit you in the damn leg."

"(Riley) No I wouldn't. You know I wouldn't!!"

"(Mark) Hey, you ran away from every challenge. So, I do have good reasoning."

The Seattle skyline sparkles in the background, and the Space Needle can clearly be seen high above. The cameraman scrambles to catch up, and when he does, Strangler has already managed to catch up with the High Flying Prince and is already punishing Erek with the windshield wiper, swinging it left and right and connecting it with both arms of the High Flyin' Prince. Strangler throws the wiper aside and forces a pin right on the concrete:

ONE!!!

TWO!!!

THR- and Erek inches his shoulder up. The fight heads more out into the open, with Strangler leading the Champion. Strangler angers, and rises to his feet. He takes a look around, while listening to the sounds of the traffic that lies only a few feet away. Grabbing Erek by the hair, Strangler drags him up to his feet. He measures the Champ up, and decks him with a colossal right. Strangler thrases Erek with another right, before grabbing the Champion by the wrist and hurling him straight for the nearby intersection!!

"(Mark) No! Strangler, you won't!"

"(Riley) HE WILL!!"

Strangler sends Erek Taylor stumbling into the asphalt. Honks of the nearby vehicles begin to boom through the night sky, and Erek desperately rolls out of the way to dodge the oncoming traffic!! The High Flying Prince huffs and puffs, and slowly staggers to his feet as Strangler ventures forward. The Boston Strangler moves in and immediately swings a right fist, but Erek ducks under the massive arm of the Bostonian, and sends a fist straight into Strangler's neck! Strangler gasps for air, and before he can retaliate, Erek sends another right hand surging forward and connecting it with Strangler's neck yet again. Desperate to counter, Strangler rockets his knee forward, doubling Erek over in an instant. Strangler grabs Erek by the wrist and whips him into the intersection again- OOOOH!!! But Erek counters the whip and sends Strangler there, just as a nearby sedan comes speeding by!! The driver of the sedan brakes at the sudden scene of Strangler, but the brakes are not strong enough and the vehicle hits Strangler!! Strangler rolls up to the top of the hood from the impact, and lies there as the driver opens the door.

"(Mark) YES!!! LISTEN TO THIS CROWD!! THEY LOVE IT!! STRANGLER GOT WHAT HE DESERVED!!"

"(Riley) Stupid Seattle bitch!! You hit the Strangler!!! SOMEBODY GET CHRIS WILSON ON THE LINE!!"

Erek moves forward and shoves the driver aside, who tries to tend to the M7 behemoth. The High Flying Prince jumps on top of the car's hood and walks up the windshield before mounting himself on Strangler's chest. With oncoming traffic honking at its loudest, Erek rains down a hefty load of hard rights while also snapping on a choke hold to amplify the damage! After a good exchange of punches, Erek hooks Strangler's leg up for the cover:

ONE!!!

TWO!!!

THREE! OOOOOOHHHH!!!!!

Here comes the response!! The crowds are in disbelief!! Strangler pops his shoulder forward and the referee stops the count. Erek Taylor is appalled!! He can't believe it as well!!

"(Riley) YES!! Strangler is the toughest of them all!! He still kicked out after he got hit by a car!!"

"(Mark) Don't get so happy. The car didn't even hit him that hard!"

"(Riley) I sense a little fright in you."

Erek grabs Strangler by the hair and begins slamming the behemoth's head into the vehicle as hard as he can. The driver is shocked but all he can do is stand by and watch. A passenger bus drives by and stops as Erek jumps in front of its path. Erek Taylor orders the driver of the bus to halt, and seeing the carnage laid in front of him, the driver obeys. Erek jumps back on Strangler, and delivers a right hand. Phasing Strangler on the car, Erek jumps into the air, grabbing the top of the bus with his hands. He pulls himself up, and stands atop the Seattle bus.

"(Mark) He won't! Erek Taylor is on top of a bus and god knows what he's going to do!"

The fans in the arena are watching every moment, and they are ecstatic. Erek takes one last breath before launching himself into the air!! Spinning and twisting and turning in the Seattle wind, Erek comes flying down, transferring himself from the top of the bus to the top of the car!! CORKSCREW MOONSAULT-

........ RIGHT INTO NOTHING!!! STRANGLER ROLLS OFF THE CAR AND EREK GOES CRASHING INTO THE TOP OF THE CAR!!!

CUE THE COUNTLESS "OOOOOOH!!"s!!!

"(Mark) OH MY GOD!!! STRANGLER ROLLED OUT OF THE WAY AND EREK TAYLOR COMPLETED A CORKSCREW MOONSAULT INTO THE CAR!!!"

"(Riley) Holy shit!! Look at the car, the windows are beginning to crack!"

The top of the car is dented and the bus driver as well as the passengers are curious to what has happened. They roll down their windows, they exit the bus, but they are still not prepared for the image! Erek Taylor lies in a broken mess as drops of blood begins to roll down his lips and forehead. He lies on his back, breathing heavily after the missed Corkscrew Moonsault.

"(Crowds) SWF!! SWF!! SWF!! SWF!!"

Erek lays motionless on top of the car while Strangler is on the asphalt, trying to regain his brute-like strength he so many times had. The referee stares in disbelief, but there's nothing he can do. Countouts are not in effect! He stands there, checking on Erek as well as Strangler, hoping to get a word out of them. But all he gets is a mumble. Soon, sirens can be heard. Except they are not of the EMTs....

....two police cruisers speed up to the scene!

"(Mark) What the?"

"(Riley) Stupid people in the bus. They phoned the cops!!"

"(Mark) Perhaps they didn't know this was a licensed match. Well, I don't blame them. If I saw a man go flying off a bus, I'd call the cops."

Four uniformed officers step out to a scene of carnage. They are quick to move into action but the referee is there to stop them in their tracks. While the official tries to reason with the officers, both combatants slowly stir. Strangler pushes himself to his feet and drags Erek down from the car before decking him with a hard right. Strangler backs Erek to a light pole, where he delivers a massive headbutt that sends the back of Erek's head into the steel pole!! Erek falls on his behind, and the officers race towards the fight. The referee tries to stop them but the four officers tries to restrain Strangler.

"(Riley) Damn cops! Get them out of there!!"

The Seattle officers fail as the overpowering Boston Strangler shoves them all out of the way. Strangler grabs hold of one of the handcuffs and quickly goes behind Taylor, snapping the handcuffs on in an instant, trapping Erek at the light pole.

"(Mark) Make the cops useful! Tell them to give the key to the referee!!"

"(Riley) No!! The referee is impartial!! He can't interfere in this matchup!!"

Strangler relays a hard soccer kick right into the chest of Erek Taylor!! The impact is sickening, with a loud "Thud" echoing in the streets of Seattle. Strangler tries to push Erek down for the cover, but the handcuffs prevent Erek from even lying down!! Strangler asks the referee for a pin, but the official states that both of Erek's shoulders have to be flat on the ground!!

"(Mark) Haha!! Strangler's plan backfired!! He can't pin Erek!!"

"(Riley) No! He can! Just push Erek on his back, go on Strangler!"

Strangler yells, and angrily gets into the official's face. The referee stands his ground, in the ruling, that is. He gets backed ten feet but still stands by his ruling. Strangler, so busy arguing, is blind to the other side as one of the officers unlocks the handcuffs and helps Erek to his feet.

"(Riley) HEY!! THAT COP IS HELPING EREK WIN!! GET HIM!!"

"(Mark) No you idiot. He's just helping Erek to his feet!"

Strangler lets the case drop, and turns around, angrily finding Erek up on his feet! Strangler races forward, yelling at the referees as he draws his arm back and rockets it forward! But Erek, with one gasp of air, ducks under and takes a swipe at the nearest officer's belt. With that, he takes hold of a can. Too desperate to fight Strangler off, Erek doesn't even look at what he's holding and just pushes the release button on the can....

........

SHHHHHWWWWWWPPP!!!!!!

....and lets out a long splash of pepper spray into Strangler's eyes!!! The fans erupts into cheers as Erek tosses the pepper spray aside and delivers a club to Strangler's back. The Bostonian grimaces in pain and anguish as he continues to rub his eyes again and again!!

"(Riley) Figures that Erek would try something like this. He just can't beat Strangler and he's admitting it right here."

"(Mark) It was a desperation move. Why don't you bash on Strangler for a change?"

"(Riley) Because I don't want to. And you suck."

"Water!" Strangler yells. The M7 behemoth staggers towards the Key Arena, struggling to see as the scene zooms in on his red eyes. He jogs towards the entrance of the Key Arena, but soon, Erek Taylor dashes in, and brings the giant down with a bulldog! Erek goes down for the cover:

ONE!!!

TWO!!!

THREE- OOOOH!! And Strangler kicks out!! The behemoth piles back on his feet, and with Erek so close, he reaches back and swings a right arm forward- but Erek ducks under and counters with a climb up wheel kick! Strangler is on his knees, panting heavily as he tries to reconcilie with himself.

"(Riley) Come on Strangler, suck it up and make it to the arena. There's plenty of water there!"

Erek grabs Strangler by the hair, but as he prepares to lead the behemoth back up, the giant draws an uppercut and rockets it upward, nailing Erek right in the crotch!! The audience rises to the occassion and lets out a long chorus of boos!! Erek drops to his knees and Strangler rolls the small man up into a schoolboy!!

ONE!!!

TWO!!!

THRE- but Erek kicks out!! The surging pain from the groin shot still flows through Erek's veins. He tries to get up but his legs give in from all that has happened and he falls back to the ground. Erek lies there, battered while Strangler uses the referee as a balance beam and pulls himself back up.

"(Riley) Good job Strangler!! Hit him where it hurts! Now just get to the arena and get some water for your eyes!"

"(Mark) I don't think he needs that much inspiration. The entrance is only twenty feet away."

Strangler limps towards the entrance, and makes it there with no difficulties. The M7 behemoth enters the Key Arena, and is quick to go to the nearest beverage vender. Strangler grabs the vender by the collar, and pulls him out of his stand! The giant quickly grabs a water bottle and starts pouring it all over his face.

"(Mark) There we see Strangler, finally easing the pain from the pepper spray."

Erek Taylor and the referee enters the Key Arena, and the ICTV Champion is quick to react, racing forward and delivering a high forearm to the back of Strangler's head!! Erek spins Strangler around, and quickly thrusts a fist forward- no! Strangler catches it in the air and counters with yet another massive headbutt! Strangler starts his comeback, keeping it alive with fierce haymaker punches! He staggers Erek back a good five feet before driving a knee forward, doubling the Champion over. Strangler steps up, pulling Erek's head in between his legs. Cinching Erek by the waist, Strangler hoists the Champion in the air! Erek sits on Strangler's shoulders, but before Strangler can even think of performing a powerbomb, the fast and dashing Erek Taylor rolls down Strangler's back, pulling him down into a sunset flip!! Erek holds on for the cover:

ONE!!!

TWO!!!

THREE- OOOH!! And Strangler kicks out!! Strangler piles back on his feet, obviously upset at Erek getting the best of him. Strangler ventures forward and connects with a right hand before Erek can rise to his feet.

"(Mark) Nice counter by Erek Taylor! Strangler tried the powerbomb but it just wasn't the time."

"(Riley) Just one move, Mark. One move won't win the match for him."

Strangler delivers another haymaker punch, before grabbing Erek by the hair and leading him into the interior of the Key Arena, the true interior. Strangler follows the sounds and before you know it, the two combatants have entered the stands. The scene switches again, and goes back to the inside camera. It pans the stage, trying to locate the two fighters. It finds Strangler, leading Erek down the stairs and towards the ring.

"(Mark) Well the action has just entered the stage and is headed right for us."

"(Riley) Do you think we should get up?"

"(Mark) ....."

Strangler throws Erek's head into the wall, dazing the ICTV Champion before leading further in. Before long, the two have reached the outer parts of the barricade. Erek tries to fight off Strangler, swinging quick rights and lefts to the body of the behemoth. He flinches, and for one moment, releases his grip. That's all Erek needs and the Champion bursts through, pummeling Strangler back with repetitive chops across the chest!

"(Crowds) OOOOOOOOOOOOH!!!!!!!"

SMACK!

"(Crowds) OOOOOOOOOOOOH!!!!!!!"

SMACK!

"(Crowds) OOOOOOOOOOOOH!!!!!!!"

Erek backs Strangler to the barricade and quickly races in for the clothesline, but Strangler scouts out the move, bending down and hoisting Erek in the air! Erek flies over and crashes down flat on the mat!

"(Mark) Strangler with the back body drop!"

"(Riley) What a splat!"

Strangler breathes heavily, recooperating as he continues to regain his composure. He enters ringside, standing tall and quick to deliver a soccer kick to the body of Erek Taylor, sending him rolling across the mat. Strangler brings Erek up and rolls him back into the ring before sliding in himself. Erek staggers to his feet, and quickly delivers a barrage of forearms to the back of Strangler, trying to prevent the mammoth of a man from getting to his nearly 6'10 height. It is successful, for only mere moments. Strangler overpowers Erek, lunging forward and shoving the small flyer across the ring!!

"(Riley) WOOHOO! You won't stand a ghost of a chance now, Erek! C'mon Strangler, break him in half!"

Strangler moves forward, arrogantly strutting his fists that draws many boos from the crowds. The behemoth swings a hard right, and connects with Erek's chin! Strangler delivers another haymaker, a third, a fourth, and a fifth before grabbing Erek by the wrist and hurling him to the ropes. Erek rebounds, thinking retaliation the whole time as he leaps into the air and brings a high forearm into view- but it wasn't to be, Strangler raises his boot and drives it into Erek's face, knocking the Champion to the ground!! Strangler goes down and hooks the leg for the cover-

ONE!!!

TWO!!!

THRE- OOOH!! Even after the fatigue, Erek still inches a shoulder up!! Strangler grows impatient, showing it by yelling at the referee before rolling out of the ring. The M7 behemoth, clear of the rules of the matchup, walks over to the timekeeper. He shoves the man away before taking hold of the steel chair. Strangler holds it up high and slides back into the ring.

"(Mark) Oh no. This isn't good."

"(Riley) Of course it isn't good. Erek is still up! KNOCK HIM OUT!!"

Strangler raises the chair up high, and waits as Erek slowly staggers to his feet. The Champion has no clue, even with the continous warnings from the crowds. He turns around-

CLANG!!!

-AND EATS STEEL!! Strangler tosses the chair aside, and with his most sadistic grin, imitates his opponent, pointing to the sky and calling for an aerial move!!

"(Mark) And look at Strangler. He's acting as if he's won!!"

"(Riley) Well didn't he? Erek is out, and Strangler's going for the finishing touch."

Strangler ascends to the top rope, posing for the fans and flexing his biceps. He stands there, smiling as the Seattle fans in attendance shower him with boos. What a great feeling it must be to shut these people up. Strangler takes a deep breath, and launches himself into the air. Strangler stretches out his hands, and comes flying down....

down....

down.....

down- CRAAASSSHHH!!!! DOWN ON TO NOTHING!! EREK TAYLOR ROLLS OUT OF THE WAY WITH HIS LAST BREATH AND STRANGLER CRASHES INTO THE MAT!!

THE ARENA ERUPTS INTO CHEERS!! Erek Taylor staggers to his feet, his head oozing out blood with every second. He tries to walk over to Strangler, but as soon as he lets go of the ropes, the Champion's legs give in and he falls to the ground.

"(Mark) HAHA!! Strangler body splashes the mat! What a dope!"

"(Riley) Erek Taylor, you bitch! Why can't you just lie down and die?!?!"

Strangler staggers to his feet, holding his stomach in anguish and pain as he reaches for the chair. Strangler raises the chair up high, and with Erek still lying on his stomach, Strangler brings the chair crashing down-

CLANG!! The thunders of the ovation of boos echoes across the stage. Strangler swings another chair shot and drives it into the sternum of Erek Taylor!! Erek flinches and flinches, and tries to crawl away but Strangler prevents escape with another chair shot!! Strangler drops the chair at the center of the ring, and brings Erek back up to his feet. The M7 behemoth slaps on a choke hold, and with that, hoists the ICTV Champion into the air! Strangler holds Erek up high, showing for all the world to see, their hero at evil's domain.

"(Mark) Chokeslam coming up! This could be it!!"

Strangler lets all his anger out in one ferocious assault, letting Erek hang in the air for awhile before finally...

CLANK!!!

....DRIVING HIM INTO THE STEEL CHAIR WITH A CHOKESLAM!! Sickening doesn't even begin to describe the sounds of the impact! The crowds are silent, and Strangler moves over to the turnbuckle, taking a seat to witness the carnage he has created. He smiles, and the common people erupts in anger!

"(Mark) He's smiling?! What the fuck?! He just drove a human being through a chair and he's smiling?!!"

"(Riley) HELL YES!! STRANGLER JUST SHUT EREK UP!! GO STRANGLER!!"

"(Mark) Now what is he doing?"

Strangler walks over to the broken Erek, and grabs the Champion by the hair. Instead of going for the cover, Strangler brings Erek back up to his feet. The audience watches on as Strangler slaps on another chokehold, and points to the sky, signaling for another chokeslam!

"(Mark) He won't!! Strangler's going for another chokeslam through the chair!!"

"(Riley) DO IT!!"

Strangler gets showered with the countless jeers, but he doesn't care. He prepares to end the fight, and prepares to lift Erek up. Strangler begins to hoist Erek into the air when suddenly-

BAM!! The High Flying Prince bursts through and with one last desperation move, drives a foot up into Strangler's crotch!! The arena explodes as Erek drops to the ground and rolls to the outside. The Champion starts crawling away, not looking back at the Strangler, who is on his knees, bracing his crotch in pain.

"(Mark) LOW BLOW!! Erek Taylor goes for one last move and you have to get away, Erek! Strangler's just too strong!!"

"(Riley) Now who's a coward?"

"(Mark) Totally different circumstances, Riley."

Strangler staggers to his feet, sucking up the pain and quickly going off to pursue his nemesis. Erek uses the barricades to drag himself back up, and continues to use the barricade to lead himself away from Strangler. The Boston Strangler ventures after Erek, standing tall with only fire and revenge in his eyes. He catches up to Erek, and quickly decks the Champion with a clothesline from behind!! Erek struggles back up, and tries to escape once again, but Strangler reaches forward and grabs a chunk of Erek's hair!! He pulls the ICTV Champion in and quickly tries to set up the reverse DDT drop- but Erek quickly fights back, driving an elbow into Strangler's face to release the grip before leaping into the air and twisting around to deliver a heel kick across Strangler's face!! Strangler drops to the ground and Erek crawls away.

"(Riley) What is he doing? Why is he running?"

"(Mark) I'm no psychic, you fool!"

Erek crawls towards the Smarkstron, and with that, he takes a look around. Strangler is once again on the hunt, and out of desperation, Erek starts to climb. Strangler climbs after the Prince, successfully grabbing one of Erek's shoes. Strangler tries to pull Erek down but the ICTV Champion uses his free leg to kick Strangler off. Strangler doesn't discourage, climbing after the High Flying Prince again.

"(Mark) My god, he just goes higher and higher."

"(Riley) I can see it now. Strangler, the man to end Erek's career!"

Erek reaches halfway, trying to get away from the Boston Strangler, who continues his pursuit. Suddenly, an explosion of cheers. The camera goes to the entrance way, where two figures go up to Strangler and pulls the giant down!

"(Mark) WHAT THE? IT'S LDP AND TOD DEKINDES!! LDP AND TOD DEKINDES!! X FORCE 9 IS HERE!!"

"(Riley) NOOOOO!!!"

LDP and Tod pulls Strangler back down to the ground, leading him away from his pursuit and pummeling him back with joint right hands!! The two XF9ers back Strangler up to one of the wrecked cars that serves as decorations for the set. They continue their assault but Strangler bursts through like a caged animal, decking them both with a double clothesline. LDP staggers to his feet, and Strangler quickly slaps on a chokehold!!

"(Mark) CHOKESLAM!! CHOKESLAM!!"

But Tod denies the attempt, lunging forward and driving a forearm across Strangler's leg! Strangler loses his balance for a bit, but manages to regain it, only to get doubled over with a kick to the gut from LDP! LDP steps forward, and wraps his arm around Strangler's head. Strangler's former rival quickly hooks the arms of the behemoth, and hoists him into the air. The arena explodes and LDP drives Strangler into the concrete with a double armed DDT!! CLOGGER!!! LONGDOGGER CLOGGER!!!

"(Riley) NOO! THIS ISN'T FAIR!!!"

Tod and LDP drag Strangler to the top of the wrecked car. They mount themselves on each side, delivering hard rights to the face of the Boston Strangler. The fans are so into the beating that they don't even notice that Erek Taylor has climbed to the top of the Smarkstron!!

"(Mark) Oh my god, he won't!"

"(Riley) He will!"

LDP and Tod hold on to Strangler. The fans watch on, and Erek Taylor leaps off the Smarkstron!!!! Time slows down drastically, and everyone has their eyes pasted to the scene. Erek Taylor flies off the Smarkstron, and in the air, twists and turns, until he heads down....

down 30 feet....

down 20 feet.....

down 10 feet.......

CRAAASSSHHHHH!!!!!!

....AND COMPLETES A TWISTING MOONSAULT ON THE BOSTON STRANGLER FROM THE TOP OF THE SMARKSTRON!!! THE ARENA EXPLODES AS LDP AND TOD KEEPS EREK LYING ON TOP OF THE BOSTON STRANGLER!!!

"(Mark) OH MY GOD!!! DOWNFALL FROM THE SMARKSTRON!!! EREK TAYLOR IS CRAZY!!!"

"(Riley) I'm at a loss of words."

The referee rushes in to check on the two combatants, but LDP quickly diverts the official's attention to the pin they laid in front of him. LDP and Tod backs away as Erek lies on top of Strangler:

ONE!!!!

TWO!!!!!

THREE!!!!!!

***DING DING DING!!!***

And the arena explodes!! "Downfall" begins to boom out of the speakers, and everyone, fan or not, are in disbelief!!

"(Funyon) The winner of this matchup... and STILL SWF ICTV CHAMPION!!! EREK!!! TAYLOR!!!!!!!!"

LDP and Tod helps Erek off, and the referee rushes up with the ICTV belt. Erek raises the belt in the air, before collapsing once again. This time, however, his comrades are here to pick him up. LDP and Tod helps Erek into the back, as the scene zooms in on Strangler, who continues to lie on the wrecked car.

"(Mark) EREK TAYLOR RETAINS!! A DOWNFALL MOONSAULT FROM THE TOP OF THE SMARKSTRON!! THAT KID IS CRAZY!!"

"(Riley) He *is* crazy."

"(Mark) AND THIS ISN'T IT!! WE'RE JUST MOMENTS AWAY FROM THE ULTIMATE MATCHUP!! WARGAMES!!!"

EMTs from the back pour in to check on Strangler. They help the behemoth to his feet, and lead him to the back as the Smarkstron, the one that served the deciding attack, begins to play back the highlight moments of the matchup.

"The End"

July 29, 2002

The crowd is buzzing, and rightfully so, as each and every one of them look up at the monstrosity which is the war games cage. Each one confers with their friends, all of them can’t wait for the main event to unfold, and neither can Mark Stevens or Bobby Riley, as they too look up the two tonnes of steel, gazing in awe almost. Finally, Mark Stevens breaks the silence.

“I can’t imagine a better match to head line Ground Zero, as it will truly be Ground Zero inside that cage, as ten men put it all on the line, in the spirit of healthy, wholesome competition.” Stevens remarks, but receives a confused but stern glare from Riley.

“Is the healthy and wholesome competition part before or after they rip each of their opponents limb from limb?” Riley remarks with a devilish grin. “There has been some fantastic matches here tonight, but none will be as memorable as this one. Argh, why am I still talking!? Let’s get on with the show!”

“Well said my corporation cohort,” Stevens replies sounding incredibly intelligent. “Magnificent Seven, Midnight Carnival… oh my lord, what a battle! Let’s get it started – “

Just before Stevens can put the exclamation point on his last excited sounding sentence, the screen starts to flicker, becoming snowy and fuzzy, leaving the commentators, and the audience wondering what the hell is going on…

“Well folks,” Stevens says, still confused. “It looks like we’ve got some technical difficulties here, it should all be fine in a moment…”

The situation only gets worse however, as the picture is lost all together, descending into darkness. Each fan converses with the person beside them, trying to figure out what has caused this…

Suddenly, strobe lights located around the entranceway start to flicker to live, spinning frantically, creating an eerie scene in the arena as these blue flashes appear all over the arena. The crowd stands up in unison, each one silent as some music suddenly hits. After a few seconds, the heavy guitar hits, and walking out is none other than the crazy Australian, the evil one, the all round bad guy… Sacred.

Riley is a little stunned, “We saw Sacred interfere in the opening match tonight, but I didn’t expect him to come out now… he’s making the main event run late!”

Stevens gives his partner a playful slap on the back of the head. “Hush Bobby, I want to see this! Sacred’s been missing in action for the last month, rediscovering himself by the reports I received, and the fans aren’t taunting him either, just watching him saunter down the ramp…”

Indeed, the fans just stare, as Sacred looks each side of him, the memories of his great victories, no matter how few, come flooding back to him. He flashes a shy smile somewhat, he’s glad to be back, and the fans can tell. In the background, Stabbing Westwards “Save Yourself” continues to play, the lyrics hitting home with the crowd in attendance. Sacred looks down and closes his eyes as he reaches the ring apron, before looking up, grasping onto the top rope and launching himself up, entering the ring the old fashioned way. He looks around, watching every fan as a slight murmur runs through the crowd. The arena is still black except for the blue lights, creating a haunting affect, but beautiful in a way. Sacred receives a mic from Funyon, who he shakes hands with, before the house lights come back on…

“He doesn’t look like the same Sacred…” Riley comments, “But what really is the normal Sacred?!”

“I’ve never really known myself,” Stevens replies. “But he looks more at peace with himself than ever before.”

Sacred looks down at the mat as he ponders what he’s going to say, the fans waiting eagerly, even though they have to wait a little to see the Main Event they’ve wanted to see so much. Sacred paces around the ring, looking like he’s going to say something, but then shutting his trap and staring at the canvas. Finally, he stops dead in the centre of the ring, still looking down, but ready to speak…

He doesn’t speak as he normally would, vibrant tone, inflated ego sounding, but more withdrawn and careful in what he says. “All I have to say is, it’s good to be back…”

The fans cheer slightly, still not knowing what to think as Sacred looks up and gazes at them all. “Yeah, good to be back… it was good to get away also…”

He paces up and down, nearly speechless as the fans fall silent once again. “I did a lot of thinking, while on hiatus… I pondered my future, without… Anna…” Whispering that name again causes Sacred to stop. Normally a tear would appear, but instead he just looks up and continues. “I know now, I can’t get her back, but I know that with a kind and generous spirit like hers… she’s gone to a better place, a far better place than I could provide.”

“It must be hard to confess his feelings to the SWF audience,” Stevens comments. “I know that if I lost…”

Riley steps in, “Stevens, I don’t want you sobbing during the main event, so just pipe down and don’t think about it.”

“I went back to my home country, to see her again, to sort out broken ties that had been hanging over my head for so long. But, now, it’s all been dealt with…”

“Well, it’s been dealt with, except for one thing… one other thing which has been gnawing away at my mind…”

“You people, never cared, not for one lousy second.” You’d expect the fans to immediately boo, but instead, they remain silent, out of respect almost. “I always thought, ‘why won’t you leave me in peace? Why can’t you send me letters of support’? I’ve stopped wondering that any more, now I know, there’s no point trying to reach people with words any more. On my travels, I went to many different places, and with each destination I came to, I discovered more cruelness, more barbarity, more suffering. I felt at home.”

“As strange as it sounds, I could identify with it, but that doesn’t mean it made me angry… it burned me up that there’s so much shit going wrong in this world, why should I care any more? More importantly, why should I care about the SWF? For almost two years now, I’ve poured my heart, my soul, my blood, my sweat and my tears into this business, only to see my efforts all go for nought. I tried getting acceptance from you at every turn…”

“I tried being a fan favourite, the crazy guy that everyone liked, but ultimately, I received absolutely no respect, I wasn’t taken seriously… I tried, being the kooky evil dude, always causing mischief. Sure, it was good for a few laughs, but that turned out bad as well… I tried being the thug, the nice guy, and the guy with the huge ego…”

Sacred shakes his head and frowns, before looking up into the camera, a scornful look in his eyes, “Now, I just don’t give a shit…”

“He’s bearing his soul, and it’s pretty plain to see, this isn’t a side of Sacred we’ve seen before, he’s just… being himself.” Stevens says, still watching Sacred intently.

“I’m all for it, one for pissed bastard for the melting pot of destruction! Hey, who wouldn’t have a gripe after all the pain he’s gone though?”

Sacred looks around, still amazed the fans aren’t booing him. “I tried being all those things, not because that’s who I truly was each time, all I wanted was to find my niche, to find where I fitted in, but for so long, I never found that, and it was hard. Anna held me together for the most part, but now she’s… departed… and I’m here alone…”

“I’ve come to a realisation… the world is slowly dying. People no longer care for their fellow man, wars are breaking out every where you turn. This won’t stop, and you won’t stop being misguided fools, cheering for “the good guys” and booing “the bad guys”. Did you ever stop to think, “Maybe the good guys are just insecure, violent like the rest of us, but just putting on an act to win our love?” Think about it, it’s true. And those bad guys, maybe they’re just mad the good guy stuck his nose in his business? Did you ever think that too? No, you didn’t. Your just mindless zombie’s, cheering for whose cool and hip, and booing who is really the conspiracy victim. It might sound far-fetched, but you’ll see the truth in time. Chaos reigns supreme in this world, in the SWF, nothing can stop it. Fools run the world, letting us slowly die. I’ve been an insignificant little ant, up until now, up until I finally discovered that I have to live up to my full potential. To stop trying to win love from you, I have to stop trying to be something I’m not. I have to be myself, and right now, I’m one angered Australian. Before you might have thought my little speech here tonight was just a sideshow, and that I’d just go back to my conformist ways, but no, no, no…”

“This, ladies and gentleman, is for real. I’m not “The next best thing”, which I’ve been dubbed several times during my career, I am “The best thing”… period. You can’t keep me down for long, I will rise like the phoenix, from the ashes of the fiery world you have created for yourselves, proving once and for all… I am a force to be reckoned with, a force that shouldn’t be taken lightly…”

“I am in your nightmare’s, I am the voice in your head. I am the one that will open your eyes, I am the one, that is here… to… stay.”

“Nobody expects… Sacred’s Inquisition…”

With those chilling words, Sacred drops the mic, his eyes still focused on the stunned crowd, who remain silent as Sacred leaves the ring. In his mind, Sacred finally feels… pleased. He said what he wanted to say, and he means every word…

“A chilling prophecy from Sacred. “Stevens remarks. “I, for one, am going to sit up and take notice, especially if he can convince me with a speech like that every week… That was just… eerie.”

Riley replies, “I really don’t know what to think, but we’ll just have to wait and see if he can back these words up with his actions, and I know he can.”

Stevens smiles and says to the camera, “War Games… soon… A battle of good and evil…”

“I can’t wait!” Riley chimes in, as Sacred slowly walks up the ramp, his eyes on the verge of tears, emotion over coming him after his speech. He stops at the entranceway, and turns around, flashing the metal symbol before heading behind the curtain, as a great battle is about to unfold…

July 29, 2002

“Isn’t that just heartwarming, Bobby? I mean, good ol’ shameless promotion.” Mark Stevens sighs.

“I agree, Mark. I mean, the SWF is, by far, 100 times better than the FWF! They don’t screw people over, they don’t-“ Riley endorses.

“Um, we get the point…” Stevens mutters, counting his upcoming bonus in his head.

The crowd grows restless as the camera pans around a bit… then, suddenly, it cuts back to the announcers…

“As we all know, the next match of the night… the main event… is one of the most highly anticipated encounters in the history of the SWF. By far, this next encounter will have implications beyond anything we can even comprehend… to set the stage for tonight’s main event, let us look at how it came to be…” Stevens alludes, the arena lights dropping out…

All of a sudden, “Crawling in the Dark”, by Hoobastank, kicks up over the loudspeakers… the first few chords playing in the background as the SmarkTron reads:

SNAKE EYES

“I will dedicate…”

Edwin gives a hearty double-thumbs-up to the fans, then bends over to pull Wilson up—and Wilson rakes his fingers across Edwin’s eyes! “Ouch,” snickers Riley, “the fan favorite and his attention-whore ways get bit in the ass. And the eyes.” Edwin shields his face, and a rising Wilson takes the opportunity to drive a sharp elbow into the back of the Mac Daddy’s neck! Edwin stumbles and comes back with a punch, but Wilson easily blocks it, whipcracks a forearm of his own right into Edwin’s prominent jaw, then seizes on his right arm and steps forward to whip the Mac Daddy across the ring! The champ bounces off at high speed, but steamrolling towards as he bounces back is a leaping Chris Wilson, leading with a big flying knee! Edwin tries to put on the brakes, but he can’t dodge quickly enough, and he takes the full brunt of Chris Wilson’s ‘Rim Rocka’ right on the chest! The Carnie slams back again the ropes, hooking his arms around the top one to hold himself up, and Wilson comes back around, barreling forward and leaping with his second Stinger splash of the night. Unfortunately for Wilson, the Mac Daddy is still alert, and he pulls his feet up off the mat just in time for boot sole to meet Wilson face and block the splash!

“Wilson gets a flying knee and goes for another Stinger splash, but Edwin stops him in his tracks!” Wilson comes to dead stop and staggers, and as he falters, Edwin lunges forward with his right hand and slaps Wilson briskly across the cheek!

“WOO!”

“…and sacrifice my every…”

The crowd cheers…and Edwin comes back with another slap from the left! “Cocktail O’ Shame!” shouts Stevens. “Drink up, Wilson!” Edwin pulls back for a shotei to finish, but in a flash he thinks better of it, pauses…and lunges forward again slapping Wilson across the cheek once, twice, thrice more! The crowd goes nuts, and Edwin rears back with the left palm! One, two, three more shots to the left cheek, and finally satisfied, Edwin rears back for the penultimate blow. “It’s an octuple bitchslap, folks, and Edwin’s lined up for the final shot!” Edwin thrusts his palm forward, heading straight for Wilson’s face, only to find Wilson’s hands clamping down hard on the incoming strike! Staring bloody death into Edwin’s eyes, an enraged Wilson tightens his hold on the arm and steps for a whip, but Edwin plants his feet and reverses the whip, sending Wilson soaring across the ring! Wilson hits the ropes and returns, but Edwin’s waiting for him with a catch—spinebuster! The crowd pops as Wilson’s back thunders against the mat from the quick counter, and as Edwin stands over Wilson and grabs his waist, that pop goes funky-monkey apeshit!

“Come on, Wilson! Get it together!” cries Riley. Edwin pulls Wilson up, lifting his stunned form to bent, then powering up, flipping him around in the air, and dropping to his knees to crush Wilson with a snap powerbomb and complete the Love Rollercoaster!

“Love Rollercoaster!” shouts Stevens! “Love Rollercoaster! Wilson is down, dazed after a heavy assault from the last few minutes, and—yes, Edwin’s setting it up! I can’t wait!” The Mac Daddy pulls Wilson back to his feet, grinning widely as he gets himself back to back with the Miami Mastermind, hooking his right arm through Wilson’s left, his left through Wilson’s right—

“...thing for just a second’s worth of my story’s ending.”

“So you wanna be a rock superstar, and live large, big house, five cars, rent charge…”

--and letting the Encore Cross slip away as “Rock Superstar” blasts and the other half of the tag team champions appears at the top of the ramp!

“Coming up in the world, don’t trust nobody, gotta look over your shoulder constantly…”

“What the…” mumbles Stevens, as the crowd murmurs. “What the hell is Stryke doing out here?” Stryke starts to strut down the ramp, and Edwin takes a step away from Wilson and points an accusing finger at the incoming Aussie, but suddenly his knee collapses as Chris Wilson slings a mule kick back into Edwin’s legs! Edwin falters, eyes still on Stryke, and Wilson throws on a fast ¾ facelock before leaping forward and laying Edwin out with a fierce diamond cutter! “No! No!” shouts Stevens! “Stryke’s entrance—it distracted Edwin! He let up on the Encore Cross! Wilson’s right hand man just turned this match around, god dammit! It all happened so fast!” The crowd is awash with boos at the trick!

“All in a second!” cackles Riley. “I told you, Stevens—pure genius!” On the mat, Edwin curls up and clutches at his neck, cursing his luck as Wilson smirks and shoots a satisfied nod in Stryke’s direction! The master’s young apprentice makes his way down to ringside and stands at the apron, looking inward but keeping his hands off the ring. “Pure diversionary tactic—have I mentioned pure genius?”

“I wish I could know…”

Wilson just smirks, oh-so-satisfied as his little plan comes to fruition, and he starts to beat on Edwin with savage stomps, brutally pounding away at his prone body as Stryke cheers him on from ringside. Wilson pulls Edwin up to his knees, rears back…and drills him with an uppercut, knocking him right back to the mat! Edwin tries to crawl away and make the ropes, but Wilson catches some twisted strands of hair, pulls him up again…and fires off another uppercut to floor the Mac Daddy! “Stryke’s entrance threw Edwin off, and now Wilson’s taking him apart—that must have been Wilson’s little surprise for the night! That bastard!” Stevens continues to conjure conspiracy theories as Edwin takes a beating fit for a crown prince inside the ring, suffering continued stomping and lifting uppercuts. Wilson finally lets him reach the ropes and pull himself up, only to charge in with a lowered shoulder. Edwin stumbles again, and Wilson grabs him by the back of the neck, pressing Edwin’s throat down over the ropes and choking him out! “Sick tactics from Wilson—he can scheme, but does he have to use illegal methods too?”

“He’s got to the count of four! Quit bitching!” The ref counts!

“One!”

“Two!”

“Three!”

“Four!”

…

And Wilson keeps on choking Edwin!

“…if the directions that I take…”

“Okay, commence bitching…now. Heh heh heh.” Riley snickers and the ref finally pulls Wilson off, but Wilson plays the gentleman, sarcastically apologizing before rearing back and pounding a huge fist right into Edwin’s face and flooring him entirely. Having too much fun with the beating to bother a cover, Wilson pulls Edwin up straight into a standing headscissors, then gutwrenches him up over his shoulders, holding the limp Mac Daddy there as he eyes the corner. Wilson steamrolls ahead, 240 pounds of world champ on his shoulders, and brings Edwin down over the turnbuckle with a sick corner powerbomb! The entire ring shakes from the impact and Edwin cries out, and Wilson maintains the hold, backing off and eying the corner again! With Stryke egging him on, Wilson charges forward, but this time Edwin shoves up off the shoulders and slips out! The Crown Prince flips forward over Wilson’s head and lands on his feet, barely keeping his balance as Wilson turns…and walks into a tremendous jumping roundhouse kick to his face!

“Amazing escape and gamengiri from Edwin MacPhisto!” cheers Stevens, and the crowd lets out a roar! Wilson stumbles back into the corner and Edwin launches himself forward with as strong an avalanche as he can muster, sandwiching Wilson’s flesh and bone between himself and the steel! Without hesitation, the Mac Daddy hops up onto the second ropes and pulls back his left fist, waving to the crowd momentarily before bringing it down into Wilson’s face! Edwin rears back again, and the crowd counts along as the champ pounds away!

“ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FIVE! SIX! SEVEN! EIGHT--”

“…and all the choices that I make…”

“WATCH ME EXPLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOODE!”

“What the hell?!?!?” Again Mark Stevens is dumbfounded, and the entire arena’s gaze, Edwin included, turns to the ramp as AC/DC’s “TNT” blares through the speakers! The namesake wrestler of the song, thick dreads masking his impressive form, comes stalking down towards the ring, a huge grin on his face! “That’s Taylor Nicholas Thompson, AKA TNT!” shouts Stevens! “One of the newest members of the SWF—and another distraction fo--LOOK OUT EDWIN!” Stevens tries to play equalizer with a loud shout, but as Edwin stares down the approaching Thompson, Chris Wilson takes the opportunity to shove Edwin off of him and dive as Edwin hits the mat shakily, snagging the leg and rolling Edwin up! The ref drops down and the crowd is panicked, not knowing where to look!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE—no, Edwin bursts out of the tight schoolboy at the last second! Wilson stands, and he looks out of the ring momentarily…to see TNT exchange a high-five with Stryke! Wilson gives TNT a nod, and the massive rookie takes his place on one of the unoccupied sides of the ring! “Wilson had another man waiting back there in case he got into trouble,” mutters Stevens, “and Taylor Nicholas Thompson just bailed Chris Wilson out of another bad situation! Wilson’s apparently recruited TNT—god dammit, he’s using decoys, Riley!”

“…won’t end up ALL FOR NOTHIIIIIING…”

In the ring, things are heating up. Wilson pulls Edwin back to his feet, and the crowd is solid boos now, barely a glimmer of gleeful cheer escaping the pissed-off disposition of the fans, who are no doubt feeling just as duped as Edwin. The Mac Daddy shoots a quick glance to Wilson’s two teammates at ringside before Wilson blacks out his vision with a big fist. Chris Wilson pulls Edwin in close and drives a fazing knee into his gut, staggering the Brit before him even further. Wilson throws an arm across Edwin’s chest, then laces his own right leg through Edwin’s right, and the crowd roars with disapproval! “Last Resort!” shouts Riley, but before Wilson can pop off the deadly Downward Spiral, Edwin unhooks his leg and shifts his weight forward, looking to counter with an uranage of his own—no, before Edwin can slam Wilson down, the challenger shoves Edwin away with impressive force, spinning Edwin around and sending him skidding away. With a shout, Wilson points past Edwin and calls something to Stryke, who carefully produces what looks like a small walkie-talkie from his pants pocket! He brings it to his lips and then quickly hides it away, but not before Stevens gets an eyeful!

“Edwin just blocked one of Wilson’s finishers, but it might not do him much good, because Stryke’s sending messages! He’s coordinating these distractions for Wilson—christ, he thought of everything! I can’t believe it!”

“Believe it, Stevens! Fool Edwin once, shame on Wilson…”

Edwin starts to turn back towards Wilson, a look of fury and purpose overcoming his green and yellow eyes…

“Fool Edwin twice, shame on Edwin…”

“SHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW ME WHAT IT’S WOOOOORTH!!!”

Suddenly, “Cities On Flame With Rock ‘N Roll” by the Blue Oyster Cult erupts from the speakers! Again the crowd turns their attention towards the ramp, and Edwin snaps his head around to investigate—

CRACK! And Wilson drives his boot into the back of the distracted champion’s head with a blazing superkick!

“Fool Edwin three times…god-damn, Wilson is good!” As Edwin collapses to the mat, he sees through blurry vision the appearance of an Icelandic giant at the top of the ramp, stomping his way down the ramp emotionlessly!

“It’s Frost! It’s Frost!” Bobby Riley marks out hard as the fans send huge volleys of confused and shocked boos at everyone but Edwin! “Frost, fresh off a big debut win in his tag alongside Thoth, has joined up with Chris Wilson! Can you believe this, Stevens? In just three minutes, we’ve seen the ranks of Wilson’s team double! This is great!”

“This is awful!” cries Stevens. Frost stalks his way down to ringside, and an eager and excited TNT gives him a big leaping pat on the back before letting Frost walk on by and take his post on another free side of the ring! “They’ve got Edwin surrounded, and Wilson just superkicked him in the back of the head! Where’s the Carnival when you need them?”

And as if on cue, the SmarkTron lights up with a camera angle from backstage, where Chris Raynor and El Luchadore Magnifico go charging down the hall! The crowd gives a huge pop for the cavalry! “Mag, let’s go!” shouts Raynor. “Edwin needs—holy shit, look!” The two skid to a stop as they come to the fallen form of Johnny Rotten, ex-deputy commish, current Carnie, and current victim to a blow to the head, apparently from a discarded link of thick, iron chain by his side!

“Holy frijole, mi amigo!”

“Who the hell uses a chain--” And suddenly, a broad figure crashes into Raynor from off-camera, driving him into the wall! Magnifico turns to attack the assailant, but another figure, this one thin and wearing a ski mask, darts in from off-screen and takes him down with a lightning fast spin kick to the temple! The broad figure lifts Raynor up…and delivers a huge folding powerbomb onto the backstage floor!

“MAKE ME UNDERSTAND IT!!”

“WHAT? It’s ‘Deathwish’ Danny Williams!” shouts Stevens, in an absolute uproar as the first attacker is revealed. “This is like the baptism and assassination scene in the Godfather, but without the Nina Rota musical score! Wilson’s goons are everywhere, and they just took out Edwin’s back-up!”

“The amazing JL world champion—and some guy in a ski mask! This is great!”

“I’ve been crawling in the dark…”

“There’s one more out there,” shouts Danny Williams. “The new one.” He scowls. “Z.” The crowd pops at the mention of the newest Midnight Carnival member, but the sharp intonation of Williams’s companion cuts off the cheers.

“Good. Go find him. I’ll catch up.”

“I know that voice,” whispers Stevens, coming to a realization. “I tagged with that voice…” As Williams runs off-camera, the masked man looks up to the mounted camera…and pulls off the mask.

“…looking for the answers!”

“It’s Outcast! The Prophet! Tyler McClelland! My old buddy!” snickers Riley, as the former Prophet charges off-camera after Danny.

“The man Wilson almost killed a year ago, now back to fight by his side, apparently united by some common grudge…and with Danny Williams as his charge! We saw the two of them earlier tonight, and it looks like Williams bought into whatever McClelland was selling! This is total chaos—four new men fighting on Wilson’s side! This doesn’t look good for Edwin—Wilson’s still stomping away at him in the ring! Listen to Wilson laugh, Riley! He knows he has this one sewn up—hell, how could he not? He has a frickin’ army running around the arena on his behalf!”

“Is there something more…”

“Edwin gets another shot in—he’s not giving up!” cries Stevens! Wilson pounds away at Edwin, pressed up against the ropes, and Edwin takes punch after punch, wobbling, bleeding slightly from the mouth, barely standing. Wilson rears back for a final knockout punch, rockets his arm forward…and Edwin bats it away and fights back with a right hand jab! Another! Another! The crowd rallies behind the champion as he hammers away, and Wilson lunges forward RIGHT INTO AN INVERTED FACELOCK! Edwin plants his feet and gets ready to jump! “SOUND CHECK! Edwin’s gonna roll the dice!” Edwin jumps—and Wilson shoves him off and away, aborting the desperation maneuever and sending Edwin chest first into the nearby ropes! The crowd roars as Edwin bounces off, turns…

…and the crowd deadens entirely as Edwin walks right into a carefully concealed low blow from Wilson’s knee! The staggering Mac Daddy stumbles right into Wilson’s grasp, and Wilson catches him, hooks his leg with his own, and falls backward to drill Edwin with the stiff downward spiral!

“LAST RESORT! LAST RESORT!” squeals Bobby Riley! “New champ! New champ!”

“Not like this! Not like this!” shouts Stevens! The referee drops down to count as Wilson hooks the leg!

ONE!

TWOOOOOOO!

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

…

NO! THE REFEREE STOPS THE COUNT! “HIS FOOT! HIS FREE FOOT! EDWIN GOT HIS FOOT ONTO THE ROPES!” shouts Stevens!

“…than what I’ve been handed?”

Wilson does a double-take.

“Shit.”

And he looks on helplessly as, outside the ring, TNT’s turned back has a special visitor.

“THOMPSON! MOVE!” shouts the in-ring general, and TNT turns…and tastes superkick!

“IT’S Z! IT’S Z! He made it out here, and he just decked TNT with the Blizzard of Oz!” The crowd explodes as the newest Carnie comes charging into battle! Stryke leaps over TNT’s fallen body, stepping to engage…and Z comes rocketing forward with a thick arm outstretched! Stryke swings a punch, but Z charges right through and absolutely LEVELS him! “ARM GRENADE! ARM GRENADE! Z’s ultra-lariat just took down Stryke!” In the ring, Wilson panics as he watches Stryke fall! The cheers of the crowd are deafening, and as he shifts his attention, he loosens his grip ever so slightly…and Edwin kicks out his feet and falls backwards, landing right on top of a shocked Wilson! The ring thunders as the two men crash down!

“I’ve been crawling in the dark…”

“How much gas do these men have left?!?!” shouts Stevens! Frost keeps observing…

Edwin closing the distance to the ropes…

Wilson charging behind…

…Edwin LEAPING…

…the crowd ROARING…

…and Edwin SPRINGING OFF THE MIDDLE ROPE AND TWISTING IN MID-AIR! Chris Wilson skids to a stop as the World Champion sails back towards him, sailing high, unstoppable…and Edwin’s knees collide with Wilson’s chest, driving him to the mat! Frost’s jaw drops, and as his leader and the champion crash into the mat, the wild-haired champion fluidly catches Wilson’s legs and pulls them forward as they land!

“REVERSE VICTORY ROLL OFF THE SECOND ROPE! EDWIN HAS WILSON’S SHOULDERS DOWN!”

Wilson kicks frantically as Edwin sits across his chest, holding the pumping legs tight, and the referee drops to the mat!

“NO! NO!” Riley shouts, and Frost makes a lunge for the referee!

ONE!

And suddenly, Frost collapses to the outside!

TWOOOOOOOO!

“GALATEA SPECIAL FROM Z TO FROST! THERE’S NO ONE STOPPING THE COUNT!”

“NO! WILSON, KICK OUT!”

…

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

And a split-second later, Chris Wilson explodes out of the cover and sends Edwin MacPhisto flying, but it’s too late! The bell rings, and the crowd is bursting with cheers as the Mac Daddy rolls back to his feet, the referee following to raise his exhausted arm high into the air! Chris Wilson sits in shocked disbelief!

“He did it! He did it! Edwin MacPhisto overcame the odds with a little help from Z!”

“YOUR WINNER,” booms Funyon, “and STILL S-W-F World Heavyweight Champion: Edwin MacPhistOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

“Looking for the answeeerrrrs!”

In the ring, Wilson turns on Z, forcing him back towards the rampside ring ropes, but Edwin charges from behind, slamming Wilson in the back with a clothesline and giving Z a friendly shove to safety! Z drags Raynor out, Magnifico manages to crack TNT’s head into a ringpost, and the Carnival, in a tight cluster, slinging punches and kicks at six attackers, start to make the move back up the ramp—no, Deathwish and McClelland come charging back—Raynor lands a flying tackle on McClelland, and Edwin backdrops Deathwish back into the crowd of oncoming adversaries! Wilson stands in the ring, leaning on the ropes, watching as the brawl snakes its way up the ramp, all four Carnies clear of the approaching horde and nearing the entrance stage…

…and he’s grinning. A wide smile, ear to ear, and then…he laughs.

“Wilson’s lost it! He lost the match, the Carnival is escaping, and all he can do is laugh! The Carnival’s almost out of this mess...”

And then, the lights go out.

“We’ve lost power!” shouts Riley! “Someone gets the lights!” As if on cue, a huge flash of light appears at the entrance ramp. The Carnies throw their arms up to block the blinding glare, and the SmarkTron glows red, flashes of matches images too quick to register cutting back and forth on the screen. A low rumbling sound echoes out, and the images start to slow down.

“What’s happening?”

“Remember, Stevens! Wilson said he had a surprise for tonight!”

“I thought that was Outcast…”

The images are slowing…slowing down…the brawl has stopped, and in the dim light of the arena, all eyes are on the screen, as images start to make sense, become more than pieces…flashes of action…flashes of chain…flashes of the hardcore title…and the images finally screech to a stop.

They stop on an insignia known to many, feared by more, and not seen for quite some time.

Two hands, clutched around a throat.

“Oh no…”

As the drum beats kick in…

BOOM! Another flash of blinding white light erupts, and now a mammoth silhouette stands on the entrance ramp as the rumbling sound gives way to Static-X’s “Burn to Burn!” The house lights flare up as the figure storms down the ramp, and an initially huge pop of recognition gives way into a flood of boos as he swings a chain onto his fist and breaks into a dash, straight for the Carnival! The laughter of Chris Wilson echoes out, and the monstrous figure annihilates Chris Raynor and Z with a double clothesline!

“IT’S THE BOSTON STRANGLER! HE’S RETURNED—AND HE’S RETURNED TO CHRIS WILSON’S ENTOURAGE!”

On the ramp, Edwin MacPhisto’s jaw drops, and El Luchadore Magnifico leaps towards Strangler—WHAM! The legendary hardcore champion drills him in the face with a wad of chain, and the high-flyer falls away uselessly! “Strangler just destroyed the Carnival! This can’t be happening!” Edwin backs down the ramp, title belt slung over his shoulder, as Strangler closes…

“No, Edwin, turn around!” The crowd roars, and Edwin backs right into the waiting pit of Wilson’s army, and suddenly, five men are on him! Edwin swings his belt and manages to knock Deathwish away momentarily, but Strangler charges down the ramp and adds a sixth man to the mayhem! The champion swings his belt, fires elbows, but punches hammer him from the left, from the right, from all over, until he finally falls, sinking deep into the abyss between these six men, pounding away, pummeling without remorse! “This is madness! The Boston Strangler is back, and he’s going to be one god-damn hell of a lieutenant for Wilson’s apparent army!”

“All right, all right!” The voice of Chris Wilson cuts over the speakers, and “Burn to Burn” fades! “Back off, everyone—let me see him.” The crowd parts, and Edwin MacPhisto lays there, bruised, battered, and bloody, still clutching to his title belt. Wilson looks down, and the Mellon arena is deafening with jeers. “You put up a good fight, Edwin,” starts the manipulator. “But it wasn’t good enough. I warned you, Edwin. I told you to expect the unexpected.” The mastermind bends over Edwin and pulls his limp form up, shouting right in his face. “Do you HEAR me, Edwin? I warned you…and you walked right into it. You’ll never outplay me, Edwin. This is my game, and tonight…well, it’s the start of a long, sad game over for you and your precious Carnies. Goodnight, sweet Prince: we’ll see you on Storm.” With that, Wilson throws down the microphone and heaves the battered world champion to the Boston Strangler, who quickly hooks a facelock and grabs Edwin’s waist.

“No! No! Strangler, don’t do this! Wilson, call them off!” Stevens pleads, but to no avail. The Boston Strangler, fresh blood on his hands, lets out a roar, then lifts Edwin high…high…holding him…and brings him down over the steel with a reverse DDT Drop!

“Last Breath! Last Breath!” squeals Riley. “It’s over! The champion is down! He held onto his belt tonight, but looks who’s still standing! It’s TNT! It’s Frost! It’s Danny Williams! It’s Stryke! It’s Outcast! It’s the Boston Strangler…and it’s Chris Wilson.”

“Folks,” says Stevens, “what we have just witnessed is one of the most disgusting, sick beatings I have witnessed in my career in this game, and I, for one, do not know what to say. We’ve had an amazing Pay-Per-View tonight…but this…I do not know what to say. For Bobby Riley and the whole Snake Eyes crew, this is Mark Stevens…signing…ugh…off.”

We fade to black on seven man standing tall, breathing heavily on the ramp…

“Help me carry on…”

The Magnificant Ones…

Love Rollercoaster” kicks up and the crowd is ecstatic-

-for about two seconds, before the now-relieved Edwin is suddenly attacked by Chris Wilson! All six men are fighting on one side of the ring now, with TNT and Raynor brawling in the corner, Stryke and Z going at it center-stage, and Edwin is being pummeled in the opposite corner!

“I told you!” Bobby gloats. “Wilson couldn’t care less about a loss right now - he’s out to put a hurtin’ on the Carnival!”

Just then, Stryke drops to his knees and hoists Z up over him in a Fireman’s Carry, swings him around - “OVERDRIVE ON Z!” calls Mark, but it’s only just beginning! Z crumples to the mat, and Stryke jumps to his feet and heads to the outside!

Meanwhile, Raynor is beginning to battle back against TNT! The two are trading fists, and Raynor manages to block one and begin a chain of his own! The tide is turning-

LOW BLOW! The second hit to Raynor’s jumblies tonight, and by far the worst, made even more devastating as Stryke appears from behind and CRACKS A STEEL CHAIR OVER RAYNOR’S HEAD! Raynor collapses beside Z, and the two M7 mates begin laying into them with kicks and jabs with the chair! In the last corner, Wilson still pounds away at Edwin…but then, in an all too common occurrence tonight-

LOW BLOW! Edwin kicks straight up between Wilson’s legs, and the eVil one is caught completely off guard! The crowd roars as he falls away! Edwin spots his moment of opportunity and dashes forward, then turns his back to Wilson and snags a facelock! Moving fast, Edwin runs at and up the corner, spins around-

“Edwin’s going for the Spinal Tap-

*WHOOSH*

As they descend, Wilson shoves Edwin up and out…right towards Stryke…

…

*CA-RACK*

“OH MY GOD! WILSON JUST THREW EDWIN OFF INTO THE SICKEST MID-AIR CHAIRSHOT I’VE EVER SEEN!”

“Assure me it’s okay to…”

Edwin falls to the mat, and his limp form matches well with his lifeless comrades. The one soda cup from earlier is now joined by dozens of brethren, all directed at the master of eVil himself! Three of the Magnificent Seven stand triumphant over the Midnight Carnival, as the St. Lunatics start to blast…

“This is sick!” Mark shouts, barely restraining himself. “This is absolutely SICK!”

The blood begins to trickle from just above Edwin’s left eye, and Wilson smiles at his work of art. The Fantastic Three then raise their hands in unison, along with the chair in question, drawing an unbelievable amount of heat from the crowd!

“Who really won here, Mark?” Bobby is absolutely loving this sight, and he continues to prod. “Come on, Mark! Say it!”

“Wilson and his goddamned army!”

“That’s RIGHT, Mark! They won at Snake Eyes, and they’ll win next week! There’s JUST - NO - STOPPING THEM!”

“Use my heart and not my eyes…”

…So says the clan…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No! No!”

ONE!

“Kickoutkickoutkickoutkickout!”

TWOOOOOOOOOOOO!

“Kickoutkickoutkickout…please?”

…

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

*DING, DING, DING*

“God…dammit…”

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

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

“…use my heart and not my eyes…”

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

“Wilson…old leader….I never forget.”

Wilson looks up. He sweats. Hard.

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

“So…says…the Clan.”

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

“…to navigate the darkness.”

The Carnival fights back…

Thoth leans over Edwin’s shoulder, looking at the belt. “That belt means you’re the best. And being the best means you can’t get any better. You can defend the belt, and hold it for months and months... but all it means is that the moment you lose it will be that much bigger for he who wins it.”

Edwin turns toward Thoth, about to respond to his question, when his eyes shift. He looks back at Thoth.

“When did you get so chummy? Aren’t you supposed to be the evil, child-eating leader of the Clan?”

Thoth chuckles. Now it’s his turn to walk away. “I’ve been gone for about... a month now? And I’ve been re-prioritizing. And now with Chris Wilson looming...” Thoth turns to face Edwin again. “It seems we have a common enemy.”

“You may be right... and with the Carnival at less than 100 percent, allies would be nice. But how do I know I can trust you?” Edwin blinks hard. “I know you... you’re going to want a shot at the world championship one way or another.”

“Agreed,” replies Thoth, nonchalantly. “But personal vendettas come first. I have too much bad blood I need to shed... both of my foes and of myself.”

Edwin cocks his head. “I’ll take that as a good thing.” He checks his watch. “Ooh! I have an autograph signing to go to. Verily I will be signing ladies chests. Red pen or black?”

“Black. Contrasts skin more.”

“Thanks...” Edwin turns to leave. Then he stops, turning to ask, “Did you just tell a joke?”

“Meh,” replies Thoth, shrugging his shoulders. Edwin takes his leave, and Thoth goes back to sitting on the boxes, what he was doing before.

Or goes to... but his eye catches two figures wrestling on a monitor. It’s a replay of SJL Crimson. Thoth goes closer, and sees Poisyn getting beat around by...

Silent? Could it be?

“Well, old friend... now all we need is one more piece of the puzzle.”

”Will the ending be…”

“Midnight Carnival…”

…when the bumping strain of “Love Rollercoaster” rip through the Mile One sound system!

“Woo!” shouts Mark Stevens! “That’s what I like to hear! The Carnival’s on their way out, and it looks like they might be ready to pick that fight Edwin was talking about!” The lights go wild, and as blue laser lights trace the arena, the silhouettes of two men, the SWF Tag Team Champions, appear on the entrance ramp to a monstrous pop! A wall of purple strobe lights explodes, and the Smarktron illuminates with famous maneuvers from Carnies past and present! Soaking in the ovation of the fans, Edwin MacPhisto and Chris Raynor, each with a title belt around their waist and Edwin with an additional belt slung over his left shoulder, foreheads bandaged and wrists taped, start their strut down the ramp!

“Pick a fight?” snickers Riley. “Yeah, great idea guys. The Magnificent Seven annihilates you earlier in the show, and you just come right back for more. Brilliant!”

“I don’t think that’s exactly what Edwin has in mind, Bobby--”

“Shh! Yes it is! No more talking!”

“Well, well, well, ladies and gentlemen!” comes the potent British timbre from the center of the ring!

“Dammit!” snaps Riley. “No more talking from him either! Next time guys, use the tire irons on the VOICE BOX, not the head!” Edwin continues to speak, and Raynor leans on the ropes, a little tired from being beaten and all, but still grinning wildly and singling out particularly enthusiastic fans for a big “SMASH!” salute.

“You all saw what happened earlier…Chris and I, consummate gentlemen that we are, showing up to cheer on our teammates Johnny Rotten and El Luchadore Magnifico tonight, even though we ourselves were not booked…and what thanks do we get? A Christmas in July present of sickly magnitude, a brutal parking garage beating courtesy a bunch of lily-livered wuss-masters and pukemeisters who simply don’t know the definition of the phrase ‘fair fight’!”

“Fair fight?” quips Riley. “This from the guy who needed Spider Nekura to win the tag belts--”

“Now, Chris and I consulted for a while, and we thought that this implicit bitterness in the ranks of the Maleficent Siete might have something to do with our winning their tag titles on Smarkdown!” The crowd gives a big pop for Edwin’s declaration of the obvious, and Raynor drives the point home by unclasping his title belt and wearing it as a hat. “I must admit: I myself was a bit surprised to win the belts thanks to the Clan of all people, but so it goes. But, since we Carnies are both fair-minded players of the game, and also ridiculously bloody sick of getting beaten down by five of you at once--Jesus, that’s just plain rude man, ruuuuude—we are laying down an open challenge!”

“What for? The Merit Badge for Being Stupid And Ugly?”

“…Riley, you are such a tool.”

“THBBBPT!”

“Our challenge,” continues Edwin, as the crowd bustles, “is this: if you silly little gang-bang bastards would like a fair chance to get these here belts back on your side, then you’ll get that shot, and you’ll get it on next week’s Storm, when Chris Raynor and I defend these titles for the very first time together!”

“The Carnival’s laying down a big challenge for the Magnificent Seven…but to who in the M7? There’s…well….seven of them, after all…”

“I can see by the puzzled look on my good friend Mark Stevens’s face that he’s not sure who we’ll be facing next week…and I must agree, Mark, frankly, I don’t know either! That’s why this is an open challenge! Since Chris Wilson is a dope anyway, I doubt any of you reeeeally want to tag with him…so how about it? You, the Magnificent Seven, choose two of your own…to take on two of our own!”

“…ever coming suddenly?”

“DISSOOOOORDER! DISOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORDER!”

And the crowd’s reaction goes all negative-stylee as “Toxicity” pounds across the PA! The entrance curtains unfurl, and slowly but surely, several members of the Magnificent Seven—Frost, TNT, Stryke, The Boston Strangler, all led by Chris Wilson—step out onto the ramp! “Christopher M. Wilson!” chirps Edwin. “The M stands for ‘should have been Made into Muffins Many Moons Ago, folks.”

“Cut your cutesy crap, Edwin!” Wilson fires back with tenacity and a sick grin. “How’s the head? Not so good, eh? No matter what little Doctor Z-hivago back there can manage, nothing’s going to save you from us. We’ll just keep on coming…and you know what? Since I’m feeling sporting, yes—we accept your challenge!” The crowd roars!

“And just like that, a tag title match signed for next week’s Storm! But who’s gonna be fighting for the belts?” wonders Stevens.

“Excellent, excellent!” responds Edwin. He pauses for a moment as Raynor steps over, and whispers something in his ear. “Oh, yes, and Mr. Willllllllllllson? I forgot to tell you: this little policy of truth unto which you’ve just committed yourself and your team, it’s a very special one. Because, you see, since we’re sick and tired of tire irons and 5-on-2’s, for this match…the rest of the Midnight Carnival and the Magnificent Seven are banned from ringside! How’s that sound?” The crowd cheers wildly at the chance of the Carnies evening out the odds, and Wilson and his crew look a little perturbed, but Wilson soon conferences, then works it all out.

“That’s fine, Edwin! Absolutely fine by us. We’ll let you know who’s coming to take back our titles on Smarkdown, and sure, the rest of us will stay in the back on next week’s Storm….” Wilson licks his lips.

“…but you didn’t say anything about THIS week’s Storm.” And with that, a ripple of feedback echoes through the arena as Wilson throws down the microphone, and the Magnificent Seven blitz towards the ring! Edwin and Raynor share a glance, a grin, and then the Mac Daddy tosses aside the microphone! The Magnificent Seven dive into the ring…just as the Carnies dive out, springboard off the announce table…

“Hey!” snaps Riley. “That’s my coffee mug!”

…and dive into the crowd, where a sea of all-too-eager fans help the tag champions surf their way out the back way! In the ring, Wilson pounds his fist into the mat, while TNT, Frost, Stryke, and Strangler begin to discuss who’s going to have the honor of the fight next week…

“That was great!” laughs Mark Stevens. “The Carnival picks their fight, and next week on Storm, it’s going to be quite a battle for the tag titles—but at least it’ll be an even one! And more importantly, I think that girl just copped a feel on Raynor!”

“Will I ever get to see…”

“It was on Smarkdown that we finally decided.” The Mac Daddy clears his throat and begins to recap. “Since Chris Wilson’s return to our humble federation at the end of May, he has done nothing but provide a heap of thorny lies. He claims that we, the Carnival, and especially I, Edwin MacPhisto, hold down and manipulate everyone we come across for our own benefit. Then, Mr. Wilson, after, yes, earning himself a title shot through a combination of hard-work and low-down dirty cheating decides that if we’re not to believe his pap, he’s got a better way of making us listen: hammer it into us.” The Carnival Chorus sounds out:

“Ohhhhhhhhh, nooooooooooooo.” Z hits a very, very impressive high C.

“At Snake Eyes, I managed to retain my world title against that master manipulator, but not without incurring great bodily harm. We the Carnival saw Wilson take his plan to the next level, recruiting a veritable army: Outcast. Danny Williams. The Boston Strangler. TNT. Frost. Stryke. A personal hit squad, each member with his own twisted ideals and desires. And guess who lucked out and got to be their first target?”

The Carnival Chorus speaks once more.

“Uuuuuuuuuuuussssss!”

“That’s right, boys! So, that’s where it started. And here…is where it ends.” A murmur rumbles through the crowd, and Edwin licks his lips. “We’ve talked it over. We’ve come to a decision. Tonight, we stop TNT and Frost in their tracks…and then, at Ground Zero, we take the rest.”

“What?” shouts Mark Stevens. “What’s Edwin proposing here?”

“We are two strong groups, Wilson. Potent indeed. Consider this a direct challenge: not from me to you, not from me to The Boston Strangler…from ALL of us—“ Edwin pauses to make an all-encompassing gesture, and his colleagues bow “—to all of you.” Another crowd pop, and the crowd is on edge now! “Every time we look we’re coming out on top, what happens? Three more Magnificent Seven members come dashing out of nowhere to beat us down! Every time we’re minding our own business, what happens? We get jumped in the parking lot and hammered with crowbars! We come out to answer a challenge, and what happens? Ambushed and bloodied! No more! It ends at Ground Zero, and you know why? Because at Ground Zero, we are going to even the odds, and we are going to do it in the most brutal, unrelenting forum possible!

“FOOOORUM!”

“…guys, you weren’t supposed to--”

“FOOOORUM!”

“Stop it!”

“Sorry, Edwin,” mumbles Raynor. “We like ‘forum’. It’s got a nice harmony.”

“Fine, fine. We’ll sing it later…back to business! Unrelenting! Unstoppable! A place where the numbers are equal! The Carnival, versus the Magnificent Seven’s chosen warriors…in a steel cage!” The crowd explodes!

“Cage match!” shouts Stevens. “That’s it! Carnival vs. M7, cage match, Ground Zero--”

But Edwin’s not finished.

“A steel cage—a steel cage twice the sized of a regular steel cage!”

“What?” Even Riley is confused at this point.

“…the ending TO MY STORY?!?”

“A double cage…a double cage…surrounding…two…rings…”

“Oh my god…” murmurs Stevens. “He’s not…”

“FIVE men of ours, versus FIVE men of yours…” And now the crowd is picking up on it, and the cheers are getting louder and louder, and suddenly Edwin lets the dam burst!

“FIVE ON FIVE! A DOUBLE CAGE! TWO RINGS! NO-DISQUALIFICATIONS! VICTORY BY SUBMISSION! CHRIS WILSON AND THE MAGNIFICENT SEVEN: THE MIDNIGHT CARNIVAL HEREBY CHALLENGES YOU TO…

…

…WARGAMES!!!”

To be Continued...

July 29, 2002

“SHOOOOW ME WHAT IT’S WOOOOOORTH!”

“YES! YES! The Midnight Carnival and the Magnificent Seven! Wargames! I can’t believe it!” shouts Stevens.

“The Carnies are going to get annihilated!” says Riley…a bit unsure.

“You can bring everything you’ve got, Wilson! Choose five of your men against five of us! In that cage, anything goes, but it’s even, you merciless bastard! We fight till the end! It doesn’t matter how much blood is spilled how much of a beating you can bring—this isn’t over until someone taps out! What do you say, Wilson? Are you and your boys up to the challenge? Or can you not handle it when someone dares stand up to you?”

And, an answer to the call erupts out of the speakers in the form of “Toxicity,” blaring and bashing the sound system to pieces. “You’re gonna be sorry you ever opened your mouth, MacPhisto!” snaps Riley. “Even if you get that cage, it’s 7 on 4 now…wait a second…four? He said fi--”

But before Riley can finish, he’s overcome by a roar of boos as the entire Magnificent Seven pours through the ramp! Chris Wilson leads, with Stryke, Outcast, and the Boston Strangler to his right, while TNT, Frost, and Danny Williams take his left! He immediately produces a microphone and starts to shout down at Edwin even before the techs can cut the music.

“Edwin, my boy—you really want to do this? You really want to put yourself in the ring with five of mine, five of this seven who’ve done nothing but beat the shit out of you and your little pals there for the past three weeks? If that’s the case, you know what I say to that, Edwin?”

“I am the very model of a modern major general?”

“NO!” Wilson’s in a fury! “WE ACCEPT!” The roof blows of the Greensboro Coliseum, and Mark Stevens is going nuts himself!

“IT’S SET! The Magnificent Seven accepts the Carnival challenge…Riley, do you know what this means? This is going to be huge! Even bigger than the legendary triple cage match between Prime Evil and Die Hard! 9 days away! I can’t believe it! God, I wish I could be in there, raking Wilson’s face across the steel!”

“We accept, Edwin, and you know why?” says Wilson, cutting off the crowd ovation. “Because you just signed yourself a death warrant! Look who you want to face in a no-disqualification submission match—me! Chris Wilson! The master of the Finishing Touches! Danny Williams, THE premiere submission wrestler in this league! Tyler McClelland, the man who can take you apart technically in a half-second! TNT and his Short Fuse that’ll choke you out in a moment! And look at you! What are you really going to do in there, Edwin? Hit us with some pies? Put ants in our trunks?”

“MAKE ME UNDERSTAND IT!!”

“You don’t know what you’re getting into, Edwin! We’ll bring the violence, all right: what are you four going to bring?”

“Five, Wilson,” snaps Edwin. “Five.”

“Five? Right, Edwin. You’ll pull Johnny Rotten and his fat broken face out of the hospital just so Danny can paste him to the mat again? Not likely, pal. The Carnival is quite possibly the wussiest group ever to get a foothold in the SWF, so how do you possibly expect to stack up to THIS LEVEL OF BRUTALITY?”

“Five, Wilson.” Edwin grins. “Five.”

“Will you stop--”

“I’ve been crawling in the dark…”

And the thundering rumble of “Quarantined” by At The Drive-In rips through the speakers, and the crowd goes apeshit!

“NO! NO! HOW COULD HE DO THIS?” scream Riley! Wilson’s face suddenly goes blank, and behind him, Stryke goes down to a hard chairshot! Deathwish goes down next, and the M7 crowd thins! The crowd is going nuts, and leaping out of the back comes Thoth, swinging a steel chair straight into the face of Chris Wilson! The blow catches Wilson hard in the jaw and blows him to the side, knocking his microphone away! The Boston Strangler moves to take Thoth out, but the Balancer deftly dives to the side and jams the chair upwards and into Strangler’s throat! He stumbles away gagging, and Thoth swings the chair wildly! From his position on the ground, clutching his skull, Wilson calls off the Seven, and the group bails off the side of the ramp, taking up defensive positions below Thoth!

“Thoth! The Midnight Carnival and Clan alliance is finally showing its worth, as Edwin has just recruited Thoth to be the fifth man in the Wargames match! This is amazing!”

On the ramp, Thoth kneels and picks up the microphone, the steel chair still dangling from his right hand…

“Wilson…at Ground Zero, you can’t run anymore. You made the mistake of going up against two enemies at once. Apart, maybe you can hold us off…but together, you’re finished. We’ll see you Sunday. So says…the Clan.” Thoth throws down the microphone and raises the chair high above his head to a surprising cheer, and “Love Rollercoaster” kicks up to another ovation!

“You heard the man, Wilson!” shouts Edwin over the music. “Pick your men, and we’ll see you on Sunday…because this…means…WAR.” The Mac Daddy throws down the mic and the Carnival scrambles for the Love Rollercoaster. Thoth throws his chair down towards the M7, and the Boston Strangler swats it away defiantly, but the look of rage in his and Chris Wilson’s eyes is tremendous. The Balancer disappears behind the entrance curtain as the Love Rollercoaster clatters up the ramp behind him!

“Looking for the answers…”

Their destinies… are set…

“This is your time to pay,

This is your judgement day,

We made a sacrifice,

And now we get to take your life.

We shoot without a gun,

We'll take on anyone,

It's really nothing new,

It's just a thing we like to do.

You better get ready to die,

You better get ready to kill,

You better get ready to run,

Cause here we come,

You better get ready to die.”

Z looks over at his Mexican friend. “Mag, I don’t like this song.”

“Me either, esse. Me either.”

”Your life is over now,

Your life is running out,

When your time is at an end,

Then it's time to kill again,

We cut without a knife,

We live in black and white,

Your just a parasite,

Now close your eyes and say good-night-“

As the second verse finishes, the entire street is plunged into darkness, the growing crowd of Friday night socialites lingering around taken by surprise just as much as the group of colorful characters watching in awe as the large office building opposite the hotel becomes the only source of illumination on the block. It’s entire side slowly begins to glow as huge projectors light it up, turning it into a large movie screen for all to see.

“Is there something more…”

The rivalry has boiled over…

Slowly old clips of WCW and NWA begin to play, jagged-edged, black and white, half-second clips shown at a nauseating speed as if being played on a projector used for “The Jazz Singer.” Ric Flair. Hulk Hogan. Arn Anderson. The Road Warriors. Sting. Luger. The Horsemen. The NWO. The clips slow down, showing bloody, beaten and broken warriors going at it inside a massive steel cage. The clips move in slow motion as the poor victims at the end of the match scream in agony and finally tap out, ending the torture.

Then the clips switch to those of the WF. That of the Magnificent Seven beating down whoever happens to be around at the time, taking advantage of their numbers and doing what they can to cause general devastation. The Carnival is on the main end of some of the first beatings, but slowly the Clan is incorporated.

Now the clips are intertwined, Ric Flair, then Chris Wilson. Sting, then Edwin MacPhisto. Then, in an instant, the entire cage comes crashing down, the fragments of metal slowly swirling around to form a rather elaborate, yet so simple message.

“See you at Ground Zero.”

The screen fades from the building as the lights slowly come back up. The crowd grumbles.

“This early for that?“

“I wish I got to grind Wilson into that cage-“

“Ooo, we’ve got seven guys and projectors…”

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

A powerful staccato of explosions is met by the shrill screams of women and the cries of many others. The dark office building just used as a screen lights up the warm night once more as window after window is blown out, fire jutting out into the sky, curling and flickering as the glass slowly falls to the street below.

Slowly the explosions die down as fire whistles begin to sound in the background. But they’re not needed as it’s been a controlled pyro display. All the men and women standing in the street look up, but five in particular. Those five who will be putting everything they have on the line next Sunday against five completely deranged warriors. Burning in the side of the structure, in perfect order as if someone had stenciled them there were two very distinct characters flaming outwards in bright orange, flickering:

"M7"

“…than what I’ve been handed?”

Cut to a clip of Chris Wilson battering Edwin MacPhisto with his fists…

Tempers have been strained…

“I’ve been crawling in the dark…”

Cut to a clip of Chris Raynor and Z battling Frost and TNT…

The time has come…

“Looking for the answeeeeeeeers…”

The stage has been set…

Cut to a bottom-up shot of the Magnificent Seven… Chris Wilson, the purveyor of evil… Tyler McClelland, The Dark Prophet… Taylor Nicholas Thompson, ready to explode… Frost, bringing you an early winter… Danny Williams, the man with a deathwish… The Boston Strangler… Stryke…

“How much further do I have to go?”

The competitors are ready…

Cut to a shot of the Midnight Carnival… Edwin MacPhisto, the crown prince of flash and panache… Chris Raynor, RAYNOR SMASH!... El Luchador Magnifico, former world champion… Z, the newest member of the Carnival…

“How much longer ‘till I finally know?”

Cut to a shot of the Clan… Thoth, the balancer… Spider Nekura, the leader of the pack… Tom Flesher, the superior one… Fallout…

“’Cause I’m looking and I just can’t see what’s in front of me…”

Lives will be changed…

”Show me what it’s for…”

Careers will be shattered…

“Make me understand it…”

…silence…

“I’VE BEEN CRAWLING IN THE DARK, LOOKING FOR THE ANSWER!!!”

Cut to several clips of absolute mayhem… bodies being wrecked…

New stars will be created…

“IS THERE SOMETHING MORE THAN WHAT I’VE BEEN HANDED?!?”

Old ones may be destroyed…

“I’ve been crawling in the dark…”

But, one thing is certain…[/size=5]

The faces of all the competitors… flashing before our eyes as the music comes to a close…

WAR GAMES

A shot of Edwin MacPhisto holding the belt…

IS…

A shot of the burning building… M7 shooting out in flames…

ON.

“Midnight Carnival…”

The crowd absolutely EXPLODES as “Love Rollercoaster”, by Red Hot Chili Peppers, erupts over the loudspeakers! The SmarkTron flashes blazing white in time with the opening beats the Midnight Carnival’s anthem pumps through the arena!

Step Right Up!

As the guitar part drops in, three blue laser lights trace the arena, all stemming from the same point in the middle of the entrance ramp!

“Rollercoaster… of LOOOOOVE!”

As these words echo through the arena for the first time, the laser lights flare out into a blue haze across the entrance ramp as Edwin MacPhisto, the crowned prince of flash and panache, steps out from behind the curtain, flanked by Thoth, Chris Raynor, El Luchador Magnifico, and Z!!

“These WAR GAMES are scheduled for one fall! Introducing first, at a combined weight of… eh… a lot, they are the last holder of the SWF Stables titles! They have ushered in the new era of sports-entertainment… they are Edwin MacPHISTOOOOO!! El Luuuuuchadooooor MAGNIFICOOOOOO!!! Chriiiiiiis RAAAAAAYNOR!! ZEEEEE!!! THOOOOOOOOOTH!!! THEY ARE… THE MIDNIGHT CARNIVAAAAAAL!!!” Funyon screams, his voice going hoarse from all the yelling…

“Interesting…” Bobby Riley remarks.

“What?” Mark Stevens wonders.

“Thoth was introduced as a member of the Carnival…”

As the refrain arrives for the first time, the arena plunges back into darkness just as purple strobe lights tear through the house and the blue laser lights spiral wildly, illuminating the members of the Midnight Carnival in funky, staccato bursts. The SmarkTron video plays, flashing half-second clips of classic maneuvers from the Carnival’s members! The crowd sings along to the lyrics of “Love Rollercoaster” as the members of this group of innovators… the most successful stable in the history of the SWF… makes their way down to the ring. They all proceed to the right side of the massive cage and, after debating amongst themselves for a few seconds, send Z inside of the massive double-ring structure.

“I think I understand the strategy of my former stablemates… they are sending Z, arguably the man with the most stamina and agility, into the ring first… this may be a good move since the first man in the ring will likely have the toughest time throughout the whole match.” Grand Slam explains.

“Pfft… like Z will have any shot against ANY of the members of M7…” Riley insinuates.

“Z is one hell of a wrestler, and even you can’t deny that, Bobby!” Grand Slam retorts.

“I can deny anything I want… Z is an SWF wannabe… a JL castout who hasn’t done ANYTHING in the ‘WF yet!” Riley snorts.

“...he’s won more matches already than you won in your first two months in the IGNWF…” Stevens reveals.

“…”

The crowd remains cheering for a while as Edwin, bypassing his usual pre-match promo... with an intense look on his face… gives the Carnival a makeshift pep-talk. However, it is interrupted as a voice cries out…

”Ain’t nobody gettin’ outta here alive…”

With that, the opening chords of “Toxicity” kick up and the crowd erupts with IMMENSE boos!

“Conversion, software version 7.0”

”Looking at life through the eyes of a tire hub,”

”Eating seeds as a past time activity,”

”The toxicity of our city, of our city,”

Green lights shoot throughout the arena with a blinding white light shining at the base of the stage! All of a sudden, when the refrain kicks in…

“New, what do you ooooowwwwn the world?”

”How do you oooowwwn disooooooorder, disoooooorder!!!!!!!!”

”Now, somewhere between the sacred silence,”

”Saaaaaaaacred silence and sleep….”

”Sooooomewheeeere, between the saaacred silence and sleep,”

”DISORDER! DISORDER! DISOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORDER!!!”

…a MASSIVE ERUPTION of light occurs at the top of the ramp and, through the smoke, the silhouettes of five men are first seen…

“More wood for their fires, loud neighbors…”

”Flashlight reveries caught in the headlights of a truck.”

”Eaaating seeeeeds as a past tiiiime activityyyy…”

”The toxicity of our city, of our city…”

All at once, the members of the Magnificent Seven descend upon the ring!

“And their opponents… their entry into the federation was one of the most hyped events in the history of the SWF! They are led by one of the eeeevilest men in the history of the word, he’s even more evil than Barbara Bush! Uh… ahem… they are Chris Wilson… ‘The Dark Prophet’ Tyler McClelland… ’TNT’ Taylor Nicholas Thompson… Frost… and ‘Deathwish’ Danny Williams… they are the MAGNIFICENT SEVEN!” Funyon shills.

“DISORDER! DISORDER! DISOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRDEEEEER!!!!!!”

The seven arrive at the base of the cage and proceed to the left side of the cage. As subsequent explosions continue to deafen the hissing crowd, Chris Wilson taps Frost on the shoulder and sends him into the ring… The big man opens up the door to the cage and proceeds towards the left-most ring, where Z stands with the referee…

“This is an interesting strategy by M7… they have chosen to throw the big man… Frost… into the ring first. While he may not have much stamina, he can probably break Z in half before that even comes into effect!” Riley yells.

“So, we have two distinctly different styles being thrown into the ring to begin with… I can’t wait for this one! This should be one of the most incredible matches in recent memory, surpassing even the first stables title match! Well, we’re about ready, so let’s go into the ring!”

Matty Kivell stands in the center of the leftmost ring and separates the two competitors… he gives them their instructions, asks them if they understand them, then receives a confirming nod from both men… then, as if pulling the trigger on the shot heard round the world, Kivell signals to the timekeeper…

*** DING DING DING!!! ***

Frost and Z circle each other wearily. Both men are more focused than they’ve been in their entire lives…

“The bell has rung, the door is locked and the clock is ticking down. Z and Frost have five minutes together before the next participant can enter.” Stevens explains before the two men come to blows.

“However, the next person in will be a Mag-7 member due to the earlier coin toss. It’s like Z is being fed to the lions and then the lions are being fed to killer pythons.” Riley rubs his hands with malicious glee at the thought of what is about to befall Z.

Frost lunges forward to cinch Z in a collar and elbow tie up, but he drops to the mat and rolls under the ropes to the adjacent ring. Z pops to his feet and points at Frost as he high steps around the ring and the crowd pops.

“Coward! You’re in a War Games, fight like a MAN for once!” Riley yells at Z.

Stevens sticks up for him. “Using his speed and staying away from Frost might be his best bet here. Frost can’t hurt him if he can’t catch him.”

“OR CAN HE!?!?!?” Riley complexes the situation.

“Why, no he can’t.”

“…Oh.”

Frost lurches to the side of his ring and puts a hand on the top rope. He swings his right leg up and wide as he attempts to step over both sets of ropes at the same time for intimidation purposes. Z uses his superior speed to charge Frost’s dangling leg and jerks it down to the side with surprisingly momentous force. Frost loses his balance and crashes down on the narrow ledge of where the two ring aprons meet. Z takes the top ring rope firmly in his hands and slingshots himself up and over to smash Frost in the chest with a knee. The fans explode as Z re-adjusts to straddle Frost and peppers his face with left and right hands!

“Z is using his speed as I suggested, but he isn’t using it to run away... He’s taking the battle right to Frost in true War Games fashion!”

“If you mention Z and fashion, it usually involves a skirt and a pair of high heels...” Riley snickers.

Frost puts his arms up to the block the punches and tries to swat Z’s furious, if not powerful, blows aside. Frost sees an opening and rockets himself forward to nail Z in his doughy gut with a headbutt. Z holds his stomach as if he ate some bad Mexican food and keels over backwards to the apron. Frost pulls himself up with both hands on the top rope of the first ring. He takes a quick breather; sweat already pouring from his face, which though very somnolent, still remains a snowy, pale shade of white.

“These two men have squared off several times, most recently a few weeks ago when Z engaged in some interesting psychological warfare by dressing up as Frost’s girlfriend, the SJL’s Sydney Sky.” Stevens reminds the fans.

“That’s just a regular Friday night ritual for Z.” Riley mocks.

Frost keeps his hands on the top rope and sends two quick kicks into Z’s midsection. Z turns over on his side with an ‘ooph’ and slides into the second ring. Frost follows, this time carefully stepping through the middle ropes.

“Referee Matthew Kivell watches the action intently from the first ring as the two men spill into the second. He has little to do until all ten men have entered the fray.” Stevens points out.

“He usually doesn’t do more than lounge around the ring anyway.” Riley bites back.

Z scrambles to his feet and heads for the far ropes as Frost straightens up to his full height. Z leans back into the ropes and springs off with his right arm outstretched for a clothesline. Frost ducks the shot and pivots out to the center of the ring. He puts his own arm out for a clothesline as Z bounces off the near ropes and heads back toward the Icelander. Frost throws his arm forward with crushing force, but hits nothing except air as Z baseball slides under the big man’s legs. Z takes a hold of Frost’s dangling left arm as he glides by and brings it up into Frost’s crotch as he pops to his feet behind his opponent. Frost’s eyes bulge out of his head as the crowd lets loose with a sympathetic groan. Z places a foot on Frost’s wide rear end and boots him to the mat as he lets go of the wrist.

“This doesn’t look good for Frost,” Stevens cautions. “He looks to be worn out less than a minute into this match as Z takes the upper hand.”

“THIS match,” Riley quickly points out. “Frost and TNT already wrestled a grueling match with LDP and Tod deKindes less than an hour ago. Z is one of the lucky few who did not have to pull double duty tonight.”

Z runs back to the ropes as Frost struggles to his feet. Z lines up another of his signature arm grenades, but Frost jutes to his right and catches Z in the side of his chest with a heart punch. Frost grabs Z’s wrist and bars the arm to prevent him from falling down as Z gasps and wheezes from the pain in his chest. Frost falls back and drives Z’s shoulder into the canvas with a hard thud.

“Frost counters the Arm Grenade with the Touch of Frost and follows up with a single arm DDT to take control!” Stevens states, worry creeping into his neutral voice.

“I wonder what Edwin has against Z to send him in first. Didn’t win him a panda bear doll at the fair this year?” Riley makes a pitiful face and then busts out laughing at his wit and the joy of finally seeing Z get knocked down.

Frost sits up and rises to his feet while pulling Z up with him by his abnormally colored hair. Frost pulls Z’s matted blue locks loose of their ponytail and drives him face first into his poised right knee. Z pops into the air from the shot and flops face down on the mat.

“Face breaker by Frost.” Stevens calls out.

“It couldn’t make him any uglier.” Riley snarls, continuing to lay the verbal punishment on thick.

Frost drops to his knees in driving an elbow to the back of Z’s neck. Frost grinds the point of his elbow into the man’s neck for an extra second as Z fidgets, and then rolls him over to choke him, the Icelandic monster’s broad hands clasped around Zed’s throat.

“Frost chokes away on Z without malice. Everything you can think of is legal and I’m sure we’ll see a lot worse than this before the night is through.” Stevens says almost disgustedly.

“Hey, if Frost kills Z, does that count as a submission?” Riley asks with a gleam in his eye.

Z kicks and stomps the mat as Frost attempts to squeeze the life out of him. He pulls Z’s head back a few times and rams the reverse of his skull into the mat. Frost stands up, still leaning over with his mitts wrapped around Z’s neck, and dead lifts the grappler off of the canvas to the stunned shock of the fans. The members of the Magnificent 7 watch on with silent appreciation on one side of the cage as the Midnight Carnival shout rallying words to Z on the other.

“MY GOD! What a colossal display of strength. Frost just picked up all 230 pounds of Z off the mat like he was hoisting a kitten.” Stevens marvels.

“Please, Frost warms up in the gym with twice that weight,” Riley boasts. “Although let me point out that Z is almost 80% body fat, so imagine he just lifted a prize boar.”

Z kicks and churns his legs as Frost holds Z high over the mat with both hands wringing away on his neck. Frost lowers Z just a hair to gain some leverage and then throws him straight up into the air with a twist. For a second, it appears that Z might go shooting through the top of the cage some twenty feet above him like a bottle rocket. However, Z slowly flips forward as gravity drags him back down and Frost hooks him around the neck with a makeshift headlock as he falls and drives him head first into the canvas! Z’s body stiffens up and shoots back into the air like a rod before crashing down in a tortured heap.

“FROST JUST HIT Z WITH A SPIKED BRAINBUSTER! BY HIMSELF, THE SON OF A BITCH SPIKED HIS OWN BRAINBUSTER!” Riley screams.

“SOMETHING LIKE THAT COULD HAVE BROKEN HIS NECK! THAT IS JUST SICK!” Stevens fumes. “You can see that Frost possesses the obvious size and strength advantage at this point, just what kind of punishment will be dealt out when the next Mag7 member enters the ring?”

Frost bolts back up to his feet and holds a solitary fist up into the air as the fans shower him with boos. Z lays nearly comatose on his stomach, barely moving. Frost responds to the crowd by viciously stomping Z in the back of his neck and then grinding the heel of his boot into the already severely worked over body part.

“If I had to form a War Games team, I think I would take Frost and the top line of the ’76 Philadelphia Flyers.” Riley speculates.

Frost bends over and yanks the wobbly Z up. Z lies against Frost’s heaving chest, his neck snapping loosely to and fro. Frost reaches down between Z’s legs and lifts him up. Frost swings Z around to drape across his right shoulder, facing forward.

“Frost appears to be setting up the old Snake Eyes!” Grand Slam guesses.

“I think Frost is going for something a little bit different here to make Z crap out… or crap his pants. Either way.” Bobby shrugs.

Frost sprints toward the top half of the cage where the Midnight Carnival is gathered on the outside. Frost pulls up short as he reaches the ropes and, with both hands under Z’s chest; he launches the wrestler off his shoulder and over the top rope to impale into the side of the cage like a human lawn dart! The cage makes a shimmery rattle as the fans verbally cringe with disgust.

“Dear God,” Stevens says in a hushed tone, “did you see how his neck snapped back when it struck the cage?!? This…this…is inhuman what Frost is doing to him.”

“YEAH! AIN’T IT… COOL!?” Riley pipes up, regardless of the gravity Mark was trying to lend the situation.

Frost steps over the top rope to the apron and plunges to the narrow six-foot walkway on the outside between the ring and the cage. Z is a crumpled pile of flesh more than a man at this point as Frost roughly jerks Z up by his hair. Z’s blue locks are highlighted with a grungy, deep red.

“The top of Z’s skull has split like a melon against the cage and we’re not even through the first period yet!!” Stevens bemoans.

Frost snakes an arm over Z’s throat while cinching his other limb around the grappler’s right shoulder in a half nelson.

“Frost locks on the Cobra Clutch and is squashing the last vital drops of life from his valiant competitor,” Mark’s voice has faint hope of Z recovering.

Frost slams Z’s face into the harsh steel mesh of the cage and grinds his mug into the lattice as he continues to torque away on Z’s throat and arm with the clutch. Z slaps and bats the cage as he uselessly tries to fight back.

“Z IS TAPPING OUT AGAINST THE CAGE! FLIP UP THE CHAIRS AND TURN OFF THE LIGHTS! IT’S TIME FOR ME AND THE MAG 7 TO PARTAAAAAAYYY!” Riley chortles.

“Even if Z did want to give up, there’s nothing anyone can do. Submissions only count once everyone has entered the cage and the Match Beyond segment begins… HAH!” Grand Slam chuckles at Bobby’s expense.

“Well… that SUCKS!”

“Yes, yes it does…” Grand Slam remarks sarcastically.

Edwin stares at Z’s crimson marred face from the outside. MacPhisto puts his face up even with Z’s and whispers words that the camera cannot hear. However, the Crown Prince of Flash and Panache has definitely had his usual bravado stolen as the weight into what he has gotten all of his friends, including old nemesis Thoth.

“Match Beyond?” Bobby question. “What idiot came up with this match anyway?”

“Dusty Rhodes.”

“Oh, stands to reason then.”

Frost jerks Z away from the cage and thunders him down to the floor mats with a release Cobra Clutch slam. Frost turns back to the cage and points a finger at MacPhisto on the opposite side.

“THAT’S GOING TO BE YOU AS SOON AS YOU GET IN HERE! YOUR DEATH IS MINE MOTHERFUCKER!”

Edwin’s face blanches a momentary white and then he charges into the cage, ripping and clawing at the small openings to get a hold of Frost as the crowd goes completely nuts. Raynor and Thoth grab Edwin by the shoulders and pull him back. TNT and Deathwish rush around the cage, but are met with a wall of security guards and referees as Wilson pulls in the reigns and tells them to settle down.

“Tempers are running high and we might have complete chaos before everyone enters the ring!” Stevens warns.

“That is the most emotion we have EVER seen out of Frost here in the SWF,” Riley responds. “Man, it’s great to be on pay-per-view. Fuck fuck fuck! See? I can curse and the TV execs don’t have a warrant to give me a cavity search THIS time! Pay-per-view is fucking awesome!”

“They never gave me a cavity search…”

“Oh, I requested one.” Riley clarifies.

Frost slaps the cage and sneers at Edwin, powerless on the other side. Z crawls on his hands and knees, blood fogging his vision from his face being shredded on the cage mesh. He reaches the first ring, where Kivell stands appalled at the early carnage, and tries to pull himself up by the apron. He gets halfway up and then collapses again. Frost trots over, attempting to hide signs of the fatigue that already plagues his massive form.

“Two minutes! Segment one of War Games ends in two minutes!” Funyon intones over the loudspeakers from the timekeeper’s table.

Chris Wilson waves his crew around him and they huddle up.

“The Magnificent Seven, having won the earlier coin toss, plots to choose their next entrant, as if poor Z didn’t have it bad enough already.” Grand Slam shakes his head with worry.

“They could dig up Yule Brenner’s corpse and send it in there as their next man. Frost has Z out cold.” Riley punches the word ‘cold’ with pure evil dripping in his voice.

Frost rips Z to his feet by his wrist and whips him crisply into the cage. Z bounces back with a clatter of steel and Frost hooks him under the neck. Frost jumps into the air for added power and drops Z with a inverted DDT! However, the cramped confines of the outside ring area doesn’t leave much room to maneuver and the tip of Z’s skull whacks off of the ring edge to open the gash in his cranium even wider.

“After the medical reports come back on Z, even Troy Aikman is going to say, ‘Now that’s a concussion.’” Riley sadistically jokes.

Frost vaults up, feeling the kill so close at hand, and hoists Z up with a hand under his shoulder. Frost puts a hand between Z’s legs and picks him up sideways across his chest. Frost hefts Z’s limp form up and down a few times to show how little he weighs to him and makes sure to shoot Edwin an icy glare as he does so. Frost charges forward and smashes Z’s back into the cage. He backs up and does it again. And again. And again. And again. And again. He steps back one more time and barrel rolls Z up his torso and over his head to be thrown onto the nearby ring apron. He takes it in the ribs and crumbles to the floor, every single inch of his body screaming in agony.

“Fallaway slam by Frost and it appears that Z now has some small cuts on his back from being pressed into the steel cage by Frost.” Mark says, aghast at the carnage.

“Weasels ripped his flesh.”

Mark stares confused at Riley.

“What? It’s a Frank Zappa tune. You don’t know the Zappa?”

“My guitar is going to kill your mamma.”

TNT pops out of the Mag 7 huddle and shoots two thumbs at this chest with a wide grin on his face.

Stevens notes, “It looks like TNT is going to join his buddy Frost momentarily in the match.”

“Smart move by Wilson in letting his premier tag team start off the battle by joining up. They have good chemistry and a lot of experience working together.” Riley observes.

Meanwhile in the cage, Frost has rolled Z back into the ring and eyes his broken body on the canvas like the savage hunter he truly is. Z crawls on his stomach to the far ropes and pulls himself up painstakingly slow. He reaches his feet and wobbles around, running on instinct more than anything from the brutal thrashing he has already taken. Z lazily turns around to meet a freight train of a clothesline from Frost that sends him hurtling over the ropes and back to the floor.

“The Hell Freezes Over clothesline from Frost as he is just playing with Z now. He brought him into the ring, just to knock him out again,” Mark states.

“One minute! The next member of the Magnificent 7 may enter the cage in one minute!” Funyon announces.

TNT stands perched at the bottom of the ring stairs as Matty Kivell stands at the top with one hand on the cage door and the other placing the key into the lock.

Frost steps over the ropes to the canvas, lining Z up for more punishment. He cocks an elbow back and skips off the apron to drop it on his fallen opponent’s stomach. Z sticks up a leg at the last second and catches Frost in the jaw to a deafening pop from the audience.

“Z IS FIGHTING BACK!” Stevens simply exclaims.

“He better pray for a bolt of lightening to strike Thompson, because it won’t matter in about 45 seconds…”

Z drags himself up by the ring apron, blood still streaming from his face and head. Frost props himself up on his knees and rubs his sore jaw. He bounds up and charges toward Z, who shifts all of his weight to his back leg and snaps out his right in a hellacious superkick to the tip of Frost’s chin!

“BLIZZARD OF OZ! BLIZZARD OF OZ!” Grand Slam can say little else through his shocked amazement.

“Fifteen seconds until the next entrant.”

TNT rushes Kivell to get into the cage, but he pushes him back and won’t let him in. TNT pulls at his hair and stomps the ground in frustration.

“TEN!”

Z raises an arm to the crowd and twirls his fingers in signaling them to make some noise. They heartily reply with immeasurable gusto by going proper apeshit.

“NINE!”

“EIGHT!”

“SEVEN!”

Z drops to his knees and grips Frost by the snow-white strands of his short hair and tows him over to the cage to rub his face into it.

“SIX!”

“FIVE!”

“FOUR!”

The audience pops even louder as Z returns the favor to Frost by shredding his face open on the unforgiving metal mesh.

“THREE!”

“TWO!”

“ONE!”

“Play time’s over.” Riley spits out as a buzzer sounds, and Matty Kivell swings the cage door open wide, allowing TNT to dart in!

Z sees Taylor quickly approaching and lets go of Frost’s head with a clunk to take off running.

“THE RACE IS ON!!!”

To be Continued...

July 29, 2002

TNT sprints with all of his energy, as Z propels himself around the outskirts of the ring with pure panic. Frost gradually stands up and rolls into the first ring, a trail of blood streaking out of his punctured forehead. TNT and Z complete a full lap around the two rings, with Z still managing to stay one step ahead of the explosive one. Z veers from their path and into the first ring for sanctuary, not noticing the recovering Frost

“And Z’s ‘run and hide’ style is really coming into play here as TNT, try as he might, cannot catch Z!” observes Stevens. “Z bails into the ring, and…”

“IS CAUGHT BY FROST!!!” Bobby finishes. “Frost has hooked Z’s arms behind his back, evidentially setting him up for a Tiger Suplex!”

TNT observes this from ringside, while acquiring a mischievous smirk across his “only-guy-in-cage-who’s-face-doesn’t-look-like-the-end-of-Saving-Private-Ryan” mug, and slides into the ring. Taylor methodically advances on Z, approaching him step by step, deliberately making all of his movements overly dramatic.

“But no! Frost isn’t going to perform a move! He’s just holding Z there so that TNT can hone in and eventually discombobulate the Jersey boy!” Riley examines. With each step TNT takes, Bobby’s musically challenged vocals ring out louder and louder with the familiar theme of Jaws. “Da dum…da dum…da dum…”

“What’s he gonna do!?!?”

“Da dum.”

“A BIG BOOT!?!?”

“Da da da da da da da da da da da da!”

“A SPEAR!?!?!?”

Thompson, now a mere inch from the one lettered wonder, reels back a bit, and, with a freakishly vigorous lunge, digs his fingers directly into the rib cage of Z, riveting them about wildly!

“Is…he…TICKLING him!?!?!?” Riley questions.

“I…believe he is Bobby.”

Z wails out in uncontrollable laughter, screaming in an enjoyable pain.

“AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! STOP IT! STOP IIIIITTT!!!!”

“THERE!” Bobby shouts out with glee. “The match is over! Z has surrendered!”

“First of all, as I mentioned before, the match cannot end until all of the men are inside the ring for the Match Beyond!”

Thompson menacingly cackles with amusement as he tickles the vulnerable Z. A no-nonsense expression plasters itself across Frost’s stone cold, and slightly bloodied face. Frost sighs in an unamused manner, and in a nonchalant fashion, falls backwards to flip Z over his head like a soiled condom!

“RELEASE TIGER SUPLEX!!!” Riley’s heart sets to explode as he yelps out in excitement.

Z soars backwards, looking to land neck first into the callous mat, but goes a bit too far and lands in the rubbery heap of cables that is placed where the two rings meet!

“Z just landed inside of the ring intersection and has become awkwardly tangled in the ropes, bobbing up and down on the slightly forgiving cords,” Stevens explains to the viewers at home.

“Z is lucky he landed on those pillowy, soft ropes, or else he would be dead right now,” Riley enlightens the situation, not so truthfully.

“Well, I don’t know if you’ve ever taken a head first bump into a collection of six horizontal ropes before, but let me tell you those ropes are not as merciful as they appear. In fact, I would guess that Z’s neck was tormented by that move more than any other move so far.”

Frost bickers at Thompson a bit, as the camera picks up bits and pieces of their conversation.

“What’s the matter Frosty?”

“Be more serious you delinquent! This is War Games!”

“Fine Frosty, fine.”

“And stop calling me Frosty!”

“Fine Frosty…oops…I mean…Frost.”

Frost, not fully gratified, places his attention on Z, who lies in a bloody, tangled heap in between the ropes. Frost grabs one of Z’s legs, grasping at the excess cloth that makes up his gray cargo pants, and signals to TNT to grab the other. He does so and the two lifts Z’s limp legs into the air, tucking them underneath their armpits. Z, almost in a full vertical position in between the first and second ropes now, soon finds his neck snapping against the middle cord as each member of Chilly Chilly Bang Bang falls back in catapulting the upper half of Z upward. Both are forced to release their respectable grips of Z’s legs and the grappler’s body cringes in pain as his collar is shattered against the second rope in an upward movement.

“OUCH!” Bobby sympathetically shouts out for Z. “That’s gonna hurt in the morning…and the afternoon…and forever depending on how serious the damage to his esophagus is.”

TNT and Frost once again grab a hold of Z’s legs, but this time rather than execute a move they simply drag him from the ropes and sprawl him across the mat. Z totters on his back from side to side like a turtle as he rubs his eyes with clenched fists, which only stains the crimson blood into them even more. Frost clutches a handful of Z’s camouflage jacket in order to bring the man to his feet. Suddenly, a light bulb, covered in cobwebs and insects due to its general lack of use, goes off in TNT’s mind. He drops to his hands and knees behind Z, insisting that Frost push Z over him.

“Taylor, we’re not here to play games!” Frost fumes again.

“Please?”

“This is a time for wrestling, not pranks of schoolyard yore.”

“Come on! It’s a classic!”

Frost rolls his eyes and decides to play along with TNT’s game in order to entertain the childish pyromaniac. With a sigh of disbelief at his partner’s lack of professionalism, he backs up and lightly bounces off the nearest set of ropes for momentum. He raises his hulking leg from the ground and drives it into Z’s forehead with a big boot, decapitating him in the process! Z’s head rotates to the side as his lifeless corpse unenthusiastically collapses back, and over the kneeling TNT to the mat.

“Frost just liquidized Z’s face with a massively intense big boot!” Riley screams in excitement and giddy sadism.

“At this point the team of Chilly Chilly Bang Bang is just toying with Z, but once the stakes are even, TNT will want to stop the monkey business.” Stevens cautions.

“One minute until the next entrée” Funyon’s booming voice bellows out. The crowd begins to rapidly stomp their feet into the ground in anticipation, creating the sound of proverbial thunder building up to the next installment in this War Games match.

TNT and Frost hear Funyon’s announcement and immediately pounce on the fallen Z, stomping the heels of their boots into his unprotected throat!

“And now these two are kicking things up into a faster gear,” Riley notes. “They need to kick as much crap out of Z as they can before the next Carnie enters.”

“But who will the next entrant be!?” Stevens queries.

Z gurgles in throbbing pain, coughing up legions of crimson liquid, which only provokes the two Mag7 members to pummel him with even more stomps! Z, bruised and battered, tries to roll from the ring in order to escape certain demise, but Frost catches him by the arm and jerks him to a standing position. He lightly tosses him into the near ropes and then whips him into the opposing multicolored bands! Z rebounds from the ropes and totters back towards his opponents. Frost and TNT lean towards the Z-ster, and intervene his set course by catching him around the hips and heaving him into the air with a double flapjack! TNT and Frost release Z while performing the maneuver and send him sailing up and over the top rope. He tumbles down to the protective mats below, spiking his head on the edge of the cage. Chilly Chilly Bang Bang staggers over to the edge of the ring to glance over the ropes at a nearly dead Z.

“Fifteen seconds until the next competitor enters!” Funyon shouts out to a massive approving reaction from the crowd.

Frost hears this and immediately sends TNT over to the cage door to guard against the next entrant. Frost meanwhile steps over the top rope to the ring apron and hops down to Z.

“TEN!”

Frost plows his expansive fingers through Z’s dyed hair, tinted a sickening crimson color at this point.

“NINE!”

Thompson, his disposition going from goofy to a very serious one, speedily paces over to the cage door. He glances out at the three Carnies and a single Clanny who quickly form a huddle, contemplating who will go in at this point.

“EIGHT!”

The Carnies rapidly exchange ideas, with both Edwin and Chris Raynor dying to enter, and help out their fellow Carnie.

“SEVEN!”

The Icelandic giant elevates Z to his knees and drives a few quick knuckles into his cranium to increase the fervent blood flow.

“SIX!”

Taylor glances back at the other ring and abruptly gains an idea. He trots over five feet to the squared circle and reaching underneath it into the darkness, filing through boxes of Chinese newspaper in order to unearth his desired item of destruction.

“FIVE!”

Edwin and Chris eagerly dispute who will enter.

“FOUR!”

Frost lifts Z onto the ledge of the ring and sluggishly rolls him back inside.

“THREE!”

TNT finds what he was searching for, bringing out the long, metallic shaft that is his baseball bat!

“TWO!”

“Rock!”

“Paper!”

“Scissors!”

“Gosh darn it! Double rock! Again!” Edwin hurriedly shouts to his fellow Tag Team Champion.

“Rock!”

“Paper!”

“Scissors!”

“Double rock!”

“Rock!”

“Paper!”

“Scissors!”

“Double rock!”

“Rock!”

“Paper!”

“Scissors!”

“Double rock!”

“Oh you’ll get your turn Caveman Chris! Right now we need a completely fresh chap in there! I’m goin’ in chums!” Edwin shouts out, preparing to enter the cage.

“ONE!”

Frost rolls into the ring to follow suit, straddling over Z and delivering some skin piercing mounted punches.

A buzzer sounds as a volcano of cheers erupts from the heated crowd. The door swings open and Edwin MacPhisto dashes into the cage!

“HERE HE COMES TO RUIN THE DAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Riley spurts out.

TNT stands near the door awaiting the Crown Prince of Flash and Panache with his aluminum baseball bat. He immediately lurches forward at him with the bat, driving it through nothing but air as Edwin dodges to the side a bit and delivers a potent shotei vertically up into his jaw!

“Edwin dodges the bat! He will NOT be thwarted that easily!” Stevens says.

“Yeah, but if that bat was under the ring, you have to wonder what else the Mag 7 has planted…” Riley muses while scratching his non-existant, evil goatee in thought…

A ribbon of blood fountains from TNT’s mouth and he teeters backwards, still withholding some balance. Edwin revs back and thrust’s yet another shotei towards Taylor, this time directly into his chest! Thompson stumbles back with more angst in his motions this time, but is still standing. Edwin smiles in a mocking sense, and in a rather embarrassing moment for Taylor Thompson, swipes his hand across the stubble-covered face of TNT with a bitch-slap! The dynamite warrior palms his reddened cheek in his hand, but before he has time to retort, Edwin lashes out with a slap across his other cheek! MacPhisto then extends two of his fingers and gouges them into TNT’s eyes! Taylor claws at his eyes in unavoidable agony. He drops his bat and withdraws from Edwin by meandering in the opposite direction. However, Edwin doesn’t give TNT time to collect himself as he picks up the nearby aluminum bat and pursues Taylor down the walkway. He trots over to Thompson, drops to his knees, and plunges the bat up into his groin!

“And the cocktail of shame just came to its climax with a devastating low blow via baseball bat!” Grand Slam compassionately groans for TNT.

“I’d call that a home run!” Riley rambles off with an affective, yet substantially lame pun.

MacPhisto again spares no rest to TNT, as he runs up behind him and hooks his head with his arm, pouncing forward and jamming his face into the cage with a face buster-like running bulldog!

“And Edwin hits the Midnight Special to leave TNT in a motionless heap,” Grand Slam watches on with great interest.

Edwin leaves TNT to die on the outside and slides into the second ring, scuttling across it and leap-frogging the two sets of ropes to arrive in the first. Frost still has Z on the ground near the ropes as he relentlessly pounds his broadened fist repeatedly into his face, drawing even more blood from his bruised and battered forehead. Edwin circles around to the backside of Frost, gripping the metallic bat in his left hand. Suddenly, his right joins his left on the grip of the bat, as he swings the bat over his head…

*** CRACK ***

Edwin swings Taylor’s aluminum bat at Frost, plunging it into the side of his head. Frost’s body immediately deteriorates to a flaccid state as dribbles of blood leak from his left ear. He drops to the mat like a shot moose. Eddie Mac shambles over to Z, who props himself up in a corner with a crimson mask already formed around his forehead, nose, and mouth. After checking on his buddy, MacPhisto walks over to Frost, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him to his feet. Edwin drops the bat to the side to trap Frost in a front face lock and drapes his arm over his shoulder.

“Edwin took out TNT single-handedly with what seemed like no trouble at all,” Stevens starts out, “and now has Frost in the ring. He is lifting him up for a stalling vertical suplex, you can tell he’s devouring all of his available strength to lift the behemoth that is Frost, especially to hold him up in the air like that!”

Edwin stalls a few more seconds, but seemingly can wait no longer, as he slams Frost to the mat, spinning in midair and flooring him with a jackhammer! Yet, Edwin isn’t finished! He lifts Frost up again, first to his feet, and then into the air…

“A SECOND JACKHAMMER!” Riley shrieks out in horror. “He cheated!”

“How?”

“…um…I dunno…but he DID!”

Edwin stands to his feet and flexes his modest muscle tone, playing to the crowd as they initiate an echoing “CAR-NI-VAL!” chant. He paces around a bit, keeping his eyes locked on the unconscious Frost as he shuffles over to him a final time, breathing heavily, a glint of now apparent ruthlessness in his eye.

“It was not too long ago in a match against Lerrin Breggin that Edwin went…to put it lightly, kookoo up the wazoo on both Jay Dawg and Lerrin. Could we see shadows of that insanity tonight? Will Edwin snap again?” Stevens wonders out loud.

Edwin grabs a handful of Frost’s closely cropped hair in order to bring him to his feet a final time. Locking on a front facelock, he lifts the giant vertically into the air and spins again on the way down to the mat, this time slamming the back of his head onto the baseball bat!

“A third and hopefully final jackhammer! Edwin just won’t have mercy!”

“Come on TNT!” Riley shouts out to Thompson on the opposite side of the large cage, gradually recovering. “WAKE UP!”

Edwin rolls Frost over onto his stomach, clutching his face under his armpit as he mounts onto Frost’s back. Edwin leans back and tightens the hold as Frost roars out a low groan.

“One minute until the next man is aloud to enter!” drones Funyon from ringside.

“And he’s got him in the Crown Prince Clutch! What a maneuver, as the back mounted dragon sleeper is REALLY torturing Frost’s neck!” Stevens cheers.

“But wait!” Riley’s voice intervenes. “Here’s TNT with a double axe handle to the back of Edwin’s head! Edwin wasn’t going to make the submission at this time, but nonetheless it’s good to have all of that pressure off of Frost’s neck.”

TNT jabs a few right hands into the back of Edwin’s head, but MacPhisto shrugs them off. He twirls around and charges his opponent into the nearest corner with a very hasty and improvised spear! Edwin prods a few stiff shoteis at TNT, keeping him against the ring post, which soon turn into kicks, and then stomps as Taylor slowly slides downward to sitting position against the turnbuckle.

“Fifteen seconds!”

“And there’s no questioning going on down in the Mag7 territory as it’s clear, Wilson wants a piece of Edwin and he’s going to go in there and get it!”

“TEN!”

“NINE!”

“EIGHT!”

Edwin stabs the tip of his boot a final time into TNT’s face and turns to the cage door, where Chris Wilson has readied himself to enter.

“SEVEN!”

“SIX!”

“FIVE!”

Edwin shoots a look of keenness at Wilson, who observes this and takes a nervous gulp.

“FOUR!”

“THREE!”

“TWO!”

Edwin persistently locks his stare on Wilson and, in an uneasy manner, Wilson backs away from the door, grabbing Danny Williams’ arm and directing him into the cage!

Stevens is disgusted, “Look at that coward!”

“ONE!”

Edwin sees that Danny is the next to enter, and promptly could care less about any non-Wilson competitor, shrugging him off, and going back to his stomping ways.

“He’s just biding his time Mark. Not to mention it would be nice to have Edwin in a vulnerable state upon his entrée.”

The buzzer sounds once more, foreshadowing Danny’s arrival as he sprints full force into the cage. Sexton shuts the door behind him, locking the five drained grapplers into what could be considered a prison cell.

“Edwin has underestimated Danno. He has the element of surprise and is going to use it!” Riley shouts as Danny jogs up to the ring, distributing a cold and concentrated stare to the Mac Daddy.

Williams slides into the ring and charges Edwin. Edwin turns around just in time to eat a running elbow to the face! CRACK! Edwin crumbles to the mat like he was smacked with a ball bat! Edwin stares up at the arena lights with glazed over eyes, wondering if Z got the license plate number of the truck that hit him.

"RUNNING ELBOW! Williams has laid out The Champ!" Riley screams with pleasure.

"With a sneak attack of course." Stevens correctly adds.

"Bah, there is no such thing as a sneak attack, Edwin should just pay better attention."

Williams takes a step back to show Edwin that he is going to let him up. Danny rubs his elbow, which is blood red from the impact of the stiff strike. Edwin shakes the cobwebs loose and slowly sits up. Williams takes a step toward MacPhisto and kicks him right in the back! SMACK! Edwin cries out in pain and leaps his feet. Deathwish grabs Edwin by his hair, and starts driving elbows into him temple and jaw! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! Edwin drops to one knee, struggling to keep his eyes open.

"The Elbow Combo of Doom!" Riley howls. "Knock his brains out, Danny!"

"I have never seen anybody take it to Edwin like that in a battle of strikes." Stevens marvels with awe in is voice.

Edwin blinks rapidly trying to wake himself up and rises up on shaky legs. Williams spins around and blasts Edwin as soon as he gets up with a perfectly timed Rolling Elbow! CRACK! Edwin’s head snaps backwards as he collapses lifelessly to the mat. The crowd demonstrates their shock with an eerie silence. With what control over his body he has left, MacPhisto rolls out of the ring and flops on the floor. With strange excitement plastered on his face, Williams goes to the other side of the ring and waits patiently.

"Oh no! We’ve seen this before." Stevens warns.

And Riley answers Deathwish's next move, "ELBOW SUICIDAAAAAA!"

Williams charges across the ring as fast as his little bulky legs can carry him. Williams dives over the second rope, and blasts Edwin with the Elbow Suicida! The impact smashes the back of Edwin’s skull into the steel cage. CLANK! A barely conscious Edwin drops to his hands and knees. Thick streams of dark blood start to pour out of both of MacPhisto's nostrils.

"That Elbow Suicida may have broken Edwin’s nose... dammit!" Grand Slam laments.

"Just like the turning point in the Williams/Sydney Sky match, and we ALL know how that turned out..." Riley points out.

“…Do we?” Stevens asks.

“…you don’t watch the JL?” Riley quips.

“Have you a life, man?!?”

Riley sighs… “No.”

Williams pulls Edwin up by both arm and attempts to send him running with an Irish whip, but Edwin desperately holds on to the cage with his outside hand! Danny pulls on Edwin's hair with his free hand for extra leverage. Both men grunt and start pouring sweat from strain, but Edwin won’t let go.

"One minute remaining in the period." Funyon booms over the loud speakers.

An annoyed Williams releases Edwin’s hair and proceeds to viciously chop away at his opponent's neck. After taking eight hard chops to the throat, Edwin finally releases his hand from the cage. Not wasting any time, Williams quickly launches Edwin across the floor with the irish whip. Edwin charges for the opposite side of the cage, but his tortured legs give out and he collapses before hitting anything!

"Edwin is dropping over from exhaustion..." Stevens says with exhaustion from calling this match creeping in on him as well.

"He isn’t exhausted he’s stalling like the coward he is." Riley counters, just hitting his stride at watcing the Carnies get dismantled.

"Well all Edwin has to do is hold on for less than a minute, and he can get some help in there."

Williams takes a second to steady himself and confidently walks down to Edwin. Deathwish pulls Edwin up by his tights and rolls him back into the ring. Danny hops onto the apron and shoots a mocky thumb up to the jeering fans before climbing up the near top turnbuckle. A drowsy Edwin stumbles to his feet, unaware that Williams is perched behind him on the top rope and oblivious to the forewarning crowd noise. Williams sails half way across the ring and nails Edwin in the back of his head with a missile dropkick! The impact knocks Edwin through the second rope to lay near comatose on the apron. ELM takes position by the cage door as the anxious crowd starts counting down to his entrance.

TEN!

NINE!

EIGHT!

SEVEN!

SIX!

FIVE!

FOUR!

THREE!

TWO!

ONE!

"And El Luchadore Magnifico flies into the cage to even the odds!" Mark screams at the top of his lungs.

"My heart beat still, now this match is going to heat up." Bobby snarls in a unimpressed monotone.

The crowd erupts with a thunderous ovation as the cage door slings open and ELM comes rushing in. He sneaks around ring 1 to climb up on the apron of ring 2. Magnifico springboards onto the top turnbuckle, looking to get the drop on Deathwish. However, he wobbles a moment to gain his footing and this gives the watchful Wilson time to shout a warning at Williams from outside the cage. “Look out Danny!” he screams. Williams turns around, but it’s a fraction of a second too late. ELM leaps off the top turnbuckle and catches Williams in a front facelock as he flies by! ELM spins Deathwish around for the Tornado DDT, but Williams cements his feet to the mat and nonchalantly tosses him off! The Luchador lands hard on the other side of the ring with a thump on his spine.

"Flash over function. That twisty, floppy shit that ELM does can't beat a good old fashioned ass pounding." Riley states.

"And you would know about pounding some ass." Stevens retorts with a glib smile.

ELM slowly teeters to his feet, but is met by a wicked hooking clothesline from Williams that nearly rips his head off. The excited crowd grows dead at the disappointing performance of Magnifico. Williams prepares to finish ELM off, but his eyes go wide and his head shoots around in a fit of paranoia. Williams glances at Edwin, who is still knocked out on the apron. He then takes a look at the action in the other ring. Frost is still unconscious and Z is still laying in a pool of his own blood… TNT is slouching in the corner, out of breath. Williams comes to the conclusion that he’s safe and traps ELM in a standing head scissors as he pulls the man up. Danny hooks his arms around the Luchadore's waist.

"I'm not sure what Williams was looking for there, but he appears to be going for the Deathbomb already!

"You can't be to careful in a match like this. You think you're in full control and then BLAM," Riley claps his hands for emphasis. "And BLAM is what is going to happen to ELM. I hope Danny breaks that skinny Luchadore in half."

Williams takes a few breaths and hoists the light weight Magnifico off the mat with relative ease, but ELM locks his legs around Williams’ head and plants his hands on the mat.

"ELM is looking to reverse the Deathbomb! HURRICANRNAAAAAAAA COMING UP!" Stevens promises.

However, Williams catches ELM by his legs and manages to stay on his feet with Magnifico lacking the leverage to flip him over. Williams releases one of ELM's legs and traps him in a elevated single leg crab!

"NO! Williams reverses to a Single Leg Crab! How fitting is it, that Williams reverses one of ELM’s flashy high flying moves into a simple mat submission? What did I just get done saying?"

"Well I don’t know how fitting it is, but it was a great counter by Williams. I’ll give him that. Although his worried hesitation almost cost him dearly." Stevens points out. "And Bobby, get off the ass pounding."

Williams is almost standing up in the hold as he wrenches back on the leg. Already weakened from a grueling submission match, ELM has no reservastions in tapping out.

"Damn, these stupid rules," Riley wails. "The Mag 7 would have won this thing at least twice now."

"Let me remind the fans at home again, submissions do not count until everyone enters the ring and the Match Beyond starts. ELM will just have to endure the pain." Stevens chips in.

Meanwhile in ring 1, a bloody Z staggers to his feet like a zombie rising from the grave. He recieves a few screams of approval from the audience, but most eyes are glued on Williams and ELM in the other ring. Frost is still passed out from the beating he suffered at the deranged hands of Edwin and the fatigue of having to wrestle grueling matches in one night. Still slumping in a corner, an exhausted and battered TNT does a double take at the sight of a blood soaked Z somehow on his feet.

"What the hell! Z is up?" Riley gasps.

"Z is not human...." Stevens shakes his head in disbelief as he speaks.

"He’s a human punching bag!" Bobby reasons.

TNT sucks it up and charges out of the corner with his arm extended for a lariat! Z ducks and twists around to blast TNT with a Blizzard of Oz superkick out of nowhere! CRACK! TNT goes limp and flies over the top rope to land on the hard floor! The crowd is full blown crazy for Z and manages to forget that ELM is being crippled in the other ring. Frost shows signs of life from the sudden crowd noise and starts trying to get up. Z wipes some blood out of his eyes, and plants himself in his superkick stance! Frost slowly climbs to his feet and Z fires!

"BLIZZARD OF OZZZZZZZZ REDUX!" Stevens calls out.

Frost instinctively raises his hands and lowers his head.

"NO! FROST BLOCKED IT!" Riley belts out with a sigh of relief.

But Z immediately swings his leg back and rushes forward with an Arm Grenade!

"ARM GRENAAAAAAAAAAADE! AND THAT ONE MORE WILL MORE THAN HIT THE TARGET!" Stevens bellows at Riley.

However, Frost ducks Z’s lariat and spins around him to lock on the Cobra Clutch.

"WRONG AGAIN, MARK! HAHAHAHAHAHA!" Bobby cackles.

Frost snaps back and launches Z over head! Z crashed down on the top of his head and bounces over to his feet. Z takes a few steps, swings a right hand at no one and flops face first on the mat. An exhausted Frost remains on the mat taking a chance to catch his breath. The excited crowd grows silent again.

"SLEEPER SUPLEX! Add that to the list of 'shit you don't see everyday.'"

"Also known as a Cobra Clutch Suplex." Mark corrects Riley.

"Well as Danny Williams would say, only to ignorant American fans." Riley snorts back.

Back in ring 2, Williams notices Edwin stirring on the apron and finally releases ELM, confidant that things are now calm in ring one.

"One minute remains in the period." Funyon chimes out once again.

ELM crawls to the ropes, fighting the crippling pain in his left leg. Williams reaches down over the ropes and pulls Edwin up. Danny locks MacPhisto in a front facelock, tosses his arm over his shoulder and grabs a handful of tights.

"It looks like Williams is preparing to suplex Edwin back into the ring." Stevens notes.

"How many times do I have to tell you, Danny doesn’t do Vertical Suplexes! He’s going to bring Edwin back into the ring with a BRAINBUSTER! No fancy American stuff for him." Riley pounds home.

"I wouldn't exactly call a suplex a fancy..."

"Shut up, Mark."

“HEEEEEEE!” Danny moans with strain as he hoists Edwin up into the air for the Brainbuster. However, Edwin lands on his feet behind Williams while grabbing him around the neck, trapping him in a inverted facelock! The silent crowd comes back to life as a pumped up Edwin lets out an emotional scream, "YAHHHHHHHHHH!" Edwin falls back, and drives Williams’ skull into the mat with a reverse DDT!

"Whatever Williams was going to do," Mark states, "it got reversed into a Reverse DDT! So how fitting is it that William’s simple Vertical Suplex got reversed to a fancy move like a Reverse DDT?"

"I said you could shut up!" Riley fumes.

Edwin makes his feet and barks orders at ELM, who responds by painfully climbing to the top turnbuckle of the top left ring corner. With grinding teeth, ELM balances himself on the top rope facing the outside. The Luchadore looks down at TNT who is finally climbing to his feet, but still in a bit of a daze from Z’s surprise Blizzard of Oz. Cameras flash as ELM leaps off the top rope and catches TNT in a front facelock! ELM uses his soaring momentum to spin TNT around and drive his head into the floor with a TORNADO DDT! Both men are down, and the fans explode into a loud “Holy-Shit!” chant.

"OH MY GOD! I have never seen that before! ELM leaped off the top rope to the outside and gave TNT a TORNADO DDT ON THE CONCRETE FLOOR! HIS WHOLE NECK COULD BE SHATTERED!" Stevens yells beside himself.

Meanwhile in ring 2, Edwin lifts Williams up with a front facelock and tosses his arm over his shoulder. Edwin grabs a handful of Williams' tights and hoists him for a vertical suplex! MacPhisto twirls Danny around for a little extra oomph before looking to fall back.

"Edwin’s going for the CORKSCREW BRAINBUSTER!" Mark shouts.

In one deft motion, Williams escapes Edwin’s grasp and lands behind him to quicky locks his fingers around Edwin’s waist as he lifts him off the mat!

"WILLIAMS FLIPPED OUT OF IT! GERMAN SUPLEX ON THE WAY!" Riley is thankful to call out.

Suddenly, Edwin locks his leg around Williams’ to block the maneuver! Edwin plants his feet back on the mat, pries Williams weary fingers apart to escape the waistlock and pivots out to fire off an enzugari!

"NO! ENZUGARIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!" Mark correctly says.

"I wish they would stop reversing everthing! It's making me cross eyed!" Bobby pleads.

Edwin’s boot connects right with the back of Williams’ skull! POP! Danny's eyes roll back in his head as he drops down to his hands and knees. Williams blindly crawls to the nearest corner and very slowly starts pulling himself up. Edwin does a kip up to the delight of the already pumped up crowd. Deathwish finally makes it to his feet, but clings to the ring post for support. Edwin just casually strolls up behind Williams and locks his arms around his waist. Danny tries to hold onto the ropes, but Edwin easily pulls the dazed grappler out of the corner with no trouble. MacPhisto bends his knees and lifts Williams off the mat. Edwin stalls for a split second and than bridges back, driving Williams’ head and shoulders into the mat!

"GERMAN SUPLEX HITS FOR EDWIN!" Steven breathlessly states.

"When is this two minutes up! Did the time keeper fall asleep or something!" Riley snarls.

Edwin keeps his grip on Danny's waist and rolls over. Edwin pulls Williams back up into position for another German! Deathwish's eyes are shut, his arms are dangling lifelessly to the mat and his legs are completely limp. Edwin is the only thing holding him up. Edwin bends his knees, growls from the strain and tosses Williams high over head.

"DANGEROUS GERMAN! DANGEROUS GERMAN!" is the only words Mark can blurt out.

Williams lands right on the top of head with a sick THUMP! Deathwish flips over on his belly and doesn’t move another inch.

"OH MY GOD! Edwin killed Danny Williams! The humanity! THE HUMANITY!"

The crowd is near riot level and completely forgets to count down the final ten seconds of the period. The crowd realizes their mistake and goes into a chorus of “boos” as Chris Wilson takes position by the door.

"It appears that M7's leader Chris Wilson is going to come in next to face his old enemy." Mark says.

Edwin waves him on, more than ready for the challenge, but Wilson pauses. Chris steps back and allows Prophet to step into the cage. The crowd starts chanting “Wilson’s-A-Pussy!”.

"Wilson chickened out! He does not want any part of a fresh Edwin." Stevens deduces.

"How wrong you are Stevens." Riley interjects. "Can’t you see what a brilliant strategy Chris Wilson is using here? He knows that M7 will need his leadership later on in the Match Beyond segment. He's just sending the Dark Prophet in there to soften MacPhisto up."

Looking to go faster than light just by walking, The Prophet climbs into the ring and rolls Williams corpse out to the relative safety of the floor. Edwin watches on with a snarl on his face. Prophet steps right up to the Carnie leader and the two exchange an intense stare down. The Prophet rears back in a martial arts stance, while Edwin slips into a kick boxing posture. Both men dance around and circle each other while throwing glancing shin kicks. “MAC-PHISTO! MAC-PHISTO!” chants the crowd.

“The Dark Prophet makes his triumphant return to the SWF!” Riley boasts.

“We’ll see how triumphant it is in a second.” Stevens warns.

Suddenly, Prophet fires a Roundhouse Kick to Edwin’s ribs! Edwin gets his hands up just in time to block the lighting quick strike! Edwin counters with a spin kick! However, the Prophet is too speedy and ducks it! Edwin keeps his momentum chugging and spins right back around with another spin kick! The Prophet is caught off guard, but manages to duck it in the nick of time! Prophet pops back up, but is off balance from Edwin’s relentless attack. MacPhisto isn’t done yet and out of nowhere fires a Gamengiri! The Prophet barely blocks it and catches Edwin with the Wind Kick as he scrambles back to his feet! POP!

”WIND KICK! He almost took Edwin’s head off!” Riley embellishes.

“WHAT A SEQUENCE THAT WAS!” Grand Slam interjects.

Edwin can’t feel the canvas and can’t keep his eyes open as he attempts to stand up. The Prophet finishes the dazed Edwin off with another Wind Kick! MacPhisto crumbles to the mat like he took a gunshot to the head. The fans “boo” wildy. The Prophet is a blur of motion as he rushes to the ropes and springboards off the second strand with a moonsault! The Prophet lands on Edwin’s ribs to the surprise of everyone.

“You know, I was expecting him to miss that.” Mark quips.

”How dare you doubt the ability of The Prophet! He is the still the deadliest man in the SWF!” Riley counters.

The Prophet hops to his feet and starts kicking Edwin in the gut. Meanwhile in ring 1, Frost has Z in a Icelandic Backbreaker with most of the pressure being put on the man’s neck! TNT is still unconscious on the outside, but ELM is up and moving. He looks back and forth at the violence in both rings. Realizing he must take action, Magnifico hops onto the apron of ring 1. Frost sees the Luchadore on the apron and carelessly drops Z to the mat! Frost starts marching towards ELM with each of his heavy steps making a loud BOOM! ELM hops on the top rope and springboards off at Frost as he charges. Magnifico lands on Frost’s shoulders and takes him down with a Hurricanrana! The crowd applauds, finally having something to cheer about after a long lull.

“What a maneuver by Magnifico as David tackles Goliath!” Stevens parables.

ELM runs into the ropes and comes charging back at Frost as he gets up! The Luchadore leaps into the air and takes Frost back to the mat with a flying headscissors! A dizzy Frost rolls out of the ring to regroup. ELM doesn’t give him a chance to recover and hits Frost with a somersault plancha out of nowhere! Magnifico springs back to his feet on the floor and sprints to ring 2. He slides in and charges Tyler, who is still stomping Edwin! CRACK! ELM blindly runs right into a hard Spin Kick from the Prophet! ELM hits the mat and the Prophet stomps him down. A battered Edwin crawls on top of his stable mate to shield him from further punishment. The Prophet just shrugs his shoulders and starts stomping Edwin as well.

“Edwin is so damn selfish he’s even hogging the beat down.” Riley states, not wanting to give Edwin any credit for his heroics.

“Wha?” Stevens mutters.

Back on the outside, TNT and Frost stumble up. Both men casually slide into ring 2 to point and laugh at ELM and Edwin for MacPhisto’s silly nobility. Prophet shoots them a ‘cut the crap’ glare and Chilly Chilly Bang Bang loses their smiles. The two monstrous men each grab one of Edwin’s arms and jerk him off his fallen comrade. Edwin manages to slip through their giant arms and covers the dazed Luchadore once again.

Stevens is impressed by MacPhisto’s fierce loyalty. “Edwin is doing whatever he can to protect his teammate.”

“What can I say, Edwin is sticking to ELM like a fly on sh......” Mark scolds Bobby with a warning finger and he trails off.

The crowd is in complete silence. CCBB grab hold of Edwin once more and this time successfully drag him off of Magnifico. Frost pins both of Edwin’s arms behind his back while TNT holds his head up to make him watch the Prophet stomp a mud hole into the unconscious Luchadore. The fans start chanting “ELM! ELM! ELM!” but it is of no use to stir him.

“This is just disgusting!” Stevens blurts out.

”Yeah,” Riley muses, “they should stomp Edwin too.”

“One minute remains in the period.” Funyon states over the loudspeakers.

This sparks a huge cheer from the crowd as Raynor steps up to the cage door! Williams stumbles to his feet in ring one, and starts popping his neck back in place. Z lays off to the side, he’s just isn’t wearing the crimson mask, he’s wearing the crimson body suit. Z starts twitching, showing some lines of life and rolls around in a puddle of his own blood. The crowd counts down.

TEN!

NINE!

EIGHT!

SEVEN!

SIX!

FIVE!

FOUR!

THREE!

TWO!

ONE!

Matty Kivell swings open the door, and big Raynor comes rushing in. The crowd is in hysterics as the big man runs down to ring 2. Z gathers his strength and raises a shaky arm up into the air as Raynor rushes by. Raynor runs right into Danny Williams and sends him right back to the floor with a nasty Lariat!

“Raynor makes a beeline for ring two and the heels scatter!” Stevens is happy to report.

Frost, TNT and the Dark Prophet all smartly bail to the floor to avoid the juiced up Raynor. The fans explode for the tag champ. He yells at the cowardly Mag7 to come get him and then spots Williams getting to his feet in ring one. He vaults over the rings and floors Danny back down to the mat with a rushing clothesline.

“Chris Raynor has to challenge his energy somewhere and it goes straight to the severely battered Williams.” Stevens says on play-by-play duties.

“The Mag 7 has already taken a lot of punishment. Letting Raynor punch himself out, so they can go back to work on ELM and Edwin is the smart thing.” Riley points out on color.

“But they are making Danny Williams a sacrificial lamb!”

“Hey, there’s no shame in taking one for the team.”

Raynor raises Williams back off the ground, locks him up and whips him into the far the ropes. Danny bounces off the far side of the ring, but Raynor decides not to wait for the former JL champion and hits another running clothesline on Williams! The crowd is on their feet cheering as Raynor, much fresher than anyone in the ring at this time, raises Williams off the mat again to keep him from regaining his breath! Raynor fires a right hand that connects to the side of Danny’s head then ducks an elbow fired by Deathwish! Raynor follows up the elbow by kicking Danny in the stomach and segueing cleanly into a DDT!

“Raynor has given a breath of fresh air to the Midnight Carnival in ring one! He’s tearing apart the weakened Danny Williams!” Grand Slam shills.

“Pfft… that won’t last long…” Riley shrugs.

“…And why not?” Grand Slam retorts.

“Because… uh… Danny Williams has some wicked elbows!! Or something like that… blah! It won’t last!” Riley gives up.

“…riiiight…”

Raynor lifts Danny off the ground again and locks him up. The two grapple for a while with neither man gaining any kind of advantage. However, fatigue hits Deathwish and Raynor takes advantage! He tries to perform a standing switch, but Deathwish quickly manages to push himself away from Chris! The Rayn man plays off of Danny’s momentum and shoves him into the ropes. Danny, however, seizes the advantage and bounces himself off the ropes to run back towards Raynor. Chris jutes to the side and performs an arm drag takedown that flings Danny into the ground! As quickly as he can, Chris Raynor climbs the nearest rope and jumps off… FLYING ELBOW!

“Raynor continues to dominate Danny Williams! What a change in momentum for the Carnival!” Grand Slam continues to yell.

“Yeah, but look what’s going on in ring two!” Riley laughs.

With Raynor now occupied with Deathwish, the cunning Mag 7 slides back into ring two to go back to work on the still woozy Edwin and ELM. Frost and TNT pick Magnifico off the mat and whip him into the far side ropes as the camera swivels over to ring two. Magnifico bounces off and ducks a kick from Frost… right into a belly-to-belly suplex from TNT! The impact sends the ring shaking and the two share a moment of relief as Magnifico, sufficiently worn down, raises his head off the mat and then falls back down.

“Raynor might have bought his friends a quick breather, but not enough to fully recoup. The Magnificent 7 are right back where they started.” Stevens laments.

“They’re playing this whole thing very smart.” Riley verbally applauds them on.

“Yet very cowardly if you ask me.”

“I didn’t.”

On the other side of the ring, Edwin and Tyler McClelland start to trade shots. McClelland throws a stiff right jab that connects to Edwin’s chin, but the SWF champion fires back with a left! That connects and sends Tyler staggering backwards. Edwin, who can’t be considered the best hand-to-hand guy in the federation, misses with a following haymaker that was aimed directly for Tyler’s jaw! Tyler ducks out of the way and continues the boxing trend by hitting a left hook to Edwin’s ribs! Edwin doubles over and Tyler sees the opportunity, hitting an uppercut and staggering Edwin back towards the ropes! Tyler gives Edwin a healthy push in the right direction, waits for him to return from the far-side ropes, then takes a run at Edwin… and misses with a dropkick!

“Tyler McClelland makes a big mistake, and now Edwin has the upper-hand! I think Tyler was trying to knock Edwin senseless again for a bit so he could go help out Williams, but that miss leaves him wide open!” Grand Slam explains.

“Come on, Tyler!” Riley yells, cheering on his old buddy…

Edwin stops his momentum and regroups, spying Tyler writhing on the ground in pain. Tyler, who landed on his back, gets up as fast as he can and fires a right hand at the smiling MacPhisto, who ducks and hooks the arms of The Dark Prophet.

“ENCORE CROSS!” Stevens screams.

Indeed, McClelland is thrown into the ground with force as MacPhisto hits his old finisher! The crowd begins the familiar chant…

“MAC-PHIS-TOOOOOOOO!!!”

…as Edwin walks over a bit to address the wily team of Chilly Chilly Bang Bang! Frost, not noticing Tyler’s situation, continues to eye Magnifico, who lies on the ground as he is stomped by Taylor Nicholas Thompson. Frost joins in on the stomp-party, but is turned around by the invigorated Edwin MacPhisto, who FLOORS Frost with one stiff right hand! The crowd erupts as he waits for Frost to return to his feet, then stomps him in the gut and pulls him into a front face-lock… DDT! Frost is down by the time Thompson finally notices and goes over to take up with the Carnie leader. Edwin pushes Frost into the far-side ropes and follows it up with a big boot to the face! TNT spins MacPhisto around by his shoulder and the two start brawling. This gives ample time for Magnifico to return to his feet and the Carnival is back in business in ring number two!

“Unbelievably the Carnival is starting to wear down the Magnificent Seven! Could we see an end to this match soon…?” Stevens wonders.

“Yeah right… this match has to go at least 33 minutes, as you’ve been telling me with the whole Match Beyo-“

“…shut up, Riley…” Stevens mutters under his breath.

“OH! Yeah, it could be over soon!” Riley recovers with a mocking tone.

Back in ring number one, Chris Raynor continues to use his freshness as an advantage over Danny Williams. Raynor lifts Williams off the canvas and immediately dispatches him into the corner with an Irish whip! Raynor follows the former JL champion into that aforementioned corner and smacks him in the chin with an elbow of his own! Danny slumps down into a seated position on the second rope with the force of Raynor brought down upon his proverbial “Candy Ass.” Chris sees an opportunity… climbs the rope… and starts to pound away at Williams!

“ONE!!!”

“TWO!!!”

“THREE!!!”

“FOUR!!!”

“FIVE!!!”

“SIX!!!”

“SEVEN!!!”

“EIGHT!!!”

“NIN-uhhh…”

Instead of the ninth blow, we are greeted to the re-energized Danny Williams lifting Raynor up and around in a powerslam position. He slams him down onto the mat with authority! Danny takes a second to smile, but is SLAMMED down to the mat by a surprised Arm Grenade!!

“Z IS UP!!” Stevens screams.

“Why don’t all you Carnie bastards DIE!!!!” Riley wails.

Z ABSOLUTELY KICKS THE CRAP OUT OF DANNY WILLIAMS WITH A GALATEA SPECIAL! Danny twitches in pain as Z shrugs and every male member of the crowd, the roster, and the world feel for Danny “Deathwish” Williams and pray for his ability to bear young. Even Chris Raynor, who is back on his feet, turns his head away. Z picks Williams off the mat and whips him into the ropes. Raynor runs up and tries to hit a clothesline but misses, only for Z to SMACK THE LIVING HELL OUT OF HIM WITH A BLIZZARD OF OZ!

“Danny Williams’ chin just turned a shade of purple that only can be compared to the color that represents homosexuality!” Bobby Riley screams.

“Uh… Riley, it sorta matches your shirt…”

“…”

“One minute left in the period, one minute.” Funyon announces.

Z straightens up right, covered in blood from the tip of his head down to the waist of his cargo pants. Raynor asks him how he is feeling and he shakes his head affirmatively that he feels fine. They turn their attention to ring number two where Edwin and TNT continue to fight, while ELM and McClelland do battle and Frost is still out on the floor.

“Wilson looks around, but he’s all that’s left on his side. Finally, he can hide no longer!” Stevens gleefully states.

“He was NOT hiding!! He was waiting until the proper time and surely, this is it!” Riley defends.

TNT throws a wild right hand that MacPhisto ducks with ease. He puts both of his hands on Thompson’s head and thrusts it down to strike his extended knee with a crunch. TNT stays bent over as Edwin pops into the air for a springing sidekick! Taylor hits the mat with a bounce and rolls out to the floor to plop on top of Frost’s prone form.

“That’s another Mag 7 member down, with only the Dark Prophet on his feet.” Remarks Mark.

“Thirty seconds in the period remaining!” Funyon screams out.

ELM whips Tyler into the far ropes and ducks his head down as he sprints back to him. The Prophet is not lucid enough to dodge Magnifico and is unceremoniously backdropped to the floor. The crowd noise is deafening as ELM and Edwin climb into ring one to join Raynor and Z. Bloodied and tired, Edwin surveys his surroundings with arms out wide as if to say, “where did all the heels go?” Thoth cackles on the outside as Wilson, very timidly steps near the cage door.

The crowd counts down.

TEN!

NINE!

EIGHT!

SEVEN!

SIX!

FIVE!

FOUR!

THREE!

TWO!

ONE!

Kivell flings the cage door open wide and Wilson balks at going in.

“C’MON, WILSON!” Stevens screams at the top of his lungs.

“Strategy, mind games, that’s what he’s doing. He’s trying to fake the Carnival out.” Riley says, not so convincingly.

Out of the blue, Thoth bolts through the distracted security and officials to sneak up behind Wilson. He places a boot on his rear and punts him into the cage. The fans go full blown apeshit as the ref slams the cage door shut and locks it. Thoth leans with his back to the outside cage and blows on his knuckles before rubbing them on his chest, very satisfied at his actions.

“Wilson’s in there ALL alone! There’s nobody but angry Carnies in the ring! He’s finished!” Mark feverishly states.

“Angry Carnies? Is that possible?”

“Yes. Yes, it is.”

“When you put it that way, I fear for the poor man’s life.” Riley denotes gravely.

Edwin smiles his magical smile broadly down at Chris Wilson and waves him to come on in.

“The water’s fine! We’ll have a grand old time, pal of mine.” Edwin playfully rhymes.

Wilson’s eyes dart over to the empty second ring and he sprints toward it at a manic pace.

“If Wilson is looking for a safe haven, War Games is not designed to contain any.” Grand Slam boasts.

“It’s four on one, the man needs a great equalizer.” Riley supports Wilson with.

Wilson slides into the ring and recovers the baseball bat and steel chair from earlier in the match. He holds one in one hand and one in the other and looks toward the assembled Carnival with newfound confidence.

“I’m liking Chris’ odds a lot better now.” Riley shoots off with chuckle.

Edwin walks up to the ropes near the intersection of the two rings and points a stiff finger at Wilson. Chris swipes at Edwin with the bat and he backs up. ELM tries to slip in from the side and is fended off by the steel chair. The Midnight Carnival huddle up and converse secretly as Wilson darts is eyes to his fallen teammates, all of whom are stirring, but still not ready to lend a hand.

I don’t like this one bit. Edwin plays dirty pool and he’s hatching a plot.”

The Carnies all look at Wilson, who’s not looking very confident with himself at the moment. He eyes them warily, looking around for anyway to get out. Finding none he starts to probe a fallen TNT with his foot. TNT slaps the foot away and rolls away from Wilson, who looks up to see a flying Mexican as the crowd explodes.

“Magnifico just springboarded three-quarters of the way across the ring!” exclaims Stevens as Wilson is taken down with a flying cross body, knocking the weapons away. “Wilson’s right back up to his feet, and trying to pound away on Magnifico, but he ends up getting whipped towards the ropes separating the two rings. Z sprints at them, hops over and catches Wilson with a flying clothesline that drops him a few feet from the divider.”

“Not fair, not fair! Cheeeating!”

“Edwin’s up to bat now and he sprints to the ropes, grabs the top and flips over, completing a somersault in the air and dropping an elbow,” continues an excited Stevens. The crowd explodes as the last Carnie pulls himself up on the turnbuckle. “Look out below, because Chris Raynor is up on the top rope, and he plays to the crowd a moment before leaping off the turnbuckle, and driving an elbow deep into Wilson’s chest!!”

The crowd continues to stand on its feet cheering their collective heart out, but only for a moment before the fallen weapons are scooped up by risen Magnificent Seven members. Tyler McClelland grabs the chair, spins ELM around and blasts him across the skull. Edwin sees this and tries to intervene, but TNT has finally rose to his feet and he grabs his trademark ballbat, slamming the tip of the barrel into Edwin’s stomach before twirling it down and bringing the end of the pummel into his chin, knocking him backwards. Raynor himself recovers from his gravity-defying drop on Wilson just in time to rise up and be scooped up by Frost. He’s easily laid over top of the iceman’s shoulder in what looks like a position for a tombstone, but instead Frost juts out his knee and drives Raynor’s shoulder right into it, releasing him as he bounces awkwardly down to the mat.

“Magnificent Seven’s taking advantage of the numbers game,” gleefully points out Riley, “and the only Carnie left standing is Z, who is clotheslined into the first ring by Deathwish, leaving those two rookies alone as Wilson is helped to his feet, the evil genius cursing those damned Carnies as he pulls up the relatively fresh Raynor and latches on a hammerlock. The crowd boo’s him loudly while he uses all of his strength to take back Raynor with a suplex, smashing his shoulder into the mat. Can you say isolation already?”

“The entire Carnival is being isolated right now!” retorts Stevens as Edwin has the bat pressed hard against his throat, TNT on top of him and straining back with everything he has. “Magnifico is pressed into the corner by McClelland, hard and quick stomps pounding him as Deathwish tries to take advantage of Z.”

Deathwish and Z both get to their feet at the same instant, and Z is immediately dropped down to only one knee by a stiff kick to the inside of his right leg. The former JL champion continues his dissection, rifling Z across the necks with some hard mini-chops. He steps around and locks on a rear waistlock, Z still somewhat woozy. Before he can do anything to get out of it, Deathwish wrenches him back and over his head, spiking Z’s head into the mat at a nasty angle. As Z lies on the ground, clutching his neck as the blood continues to flow, Deathwish picks him up again and tries for another waistlock.

“Wilson grabs the steel chair that Tyler left lying and he lines up with Edwin,” calls Stevens as Thoth begins to hop around on the outside like his bladder was shrinking in anticipation. “He raises the chair high above his head, preparing to drop the proverbial hammer on his good guy counterpart in the league, the clock winding down…”

TEN!

NINE!

EIGHT!

SEVEN!

SIX!

FIVE!

FOUR!

THREE!

TWO!

ONE!

To be Continued...

July 29, 2002

“And we’ve reached the Match Beyond portion! All ten men are in the ring, one submission to win this thing. Let’s roll!”

The crowd explodes as Kivell flings the door open and Thoth charges in, sprinting towards the ring of most imminent team danger. He slides in and Wilson sees him coming, but its too late as he’s taken down with a hard jumping clothesline that nearly decapitates him. TNT releases the hold on a struggling Edwin, who collapses to the mat, and stands up tall just in time to take a thrust uppercut that causes him to drop his faithful bat and gives the Clannie an opening to kick TNT in the stomach, double him over and take him back with a Northern Lights suplex.

“Thoth is a raging hunk of anger and destruction!” shouts Stevens over the roar of the crowd. “He picks up the chair Wilson was preparing to use on Edwin, races to the corner where the Dark Prophet is straining out as far as he can on the ropes, jutting his foot into Mag’s throat, and promptly smashes the chair across Tyler’s back. He cringes in pain and slowly turns around, only to be whipped with a sense of urgency into the ropes. As he bounces back, Thoth catches him with a high leg clothesline, but before he can follow it up, Frost rumbles over and grabs him from behind.”

“Wooh…bastard timing!” curses Riley as Edwin’s back up to his feet and he grabs Frost in a full nelson. “There’s no way he can possibly take him over…but he does! Dragon suplex on Frost! Dragon suplex on Frost!”

In the ring not being cleared out by Thoth, Deathwish slaps on another waistlock and snaps back, trying to take Z back once again. This time, however, Z flows right out of it and into a somersault, landing gracefully. A confused Deathwish hops up to his feet, but it’s a rather bad idea as Z connects with the Galatea Special, the tip of his foot rising into Danny William’s crotch. He lets out a moan and drops to his knees, with Z not wasting any time to bouncing behind him and flattening him to the mat with a bulldog. To finish off his offensive flurry, he hops up onto the second rope and hops off, connecting with a second rope elbow, ala Steven Austin.

Edwin rises back up to his feet just and he and Thoth look at each other for a moment before having a hearty handshake that quickly turns into a very manly and not slight feminine embrace that pops the crowd loudly. They release just as TNT and Wilson come at them, both receiving a kick to the gut. Thoth grabs Wilson and throws him over the top rope to the other ring while Edwin tries to whip TNT into the ropes. He has it reversed and both men soon find themselves on the outside after a Cactus Clothesline.

“Z stomps Danny Williams out of the ring and turns just in time to see a evil genius rolled into his ring…”

“Oh, so its Z’s ring now?” questions Riley. “Happy for him.”

“At the moment it is, since he just took Deathwish to school. Wilson tries to get some dignity back, standing up proudly over top of Z, but Z isn’t really intimidated.”

“Yes he is! Look at him!”

“Either way,” persists Stevens, “Wilson is coming at Z and the two men lock up in the center of the ring, collar and elbow, much to Z’s dismay. Wilson immediately turns around into a side headlock and shoots a bloodied Z off of the ropes. As he rebounds, Wilson drives a knee into his stomach and grabs him around the back of the head with knee still extended, ready to spread some New Jersey blood across his pant leg. Z doesn’t see it that way, grabbing Wilson’s leg and yanking up, dropping the Magnificent Seven team captain to his back.”

“Wilson, you just got taken down by Z! He made you look bad, so break his freaking neck!”

“I’m sure Wilson would try your idea, Bobby, if Z wasn’t jerking Wilson up to his feet and right into position for a side Russian leg sweep. Wilson powers out with some elbows, swings a clothesline around, but Z ducks it, grabs Wilson and ends up taking him down with the leg sweep anyway! The crowd is really rallying behind the perennial underdog as Wilson staggers up to his feet, only to be met with the Hammer Rush, a fury of haymakers blasting into Wilson’s temple and gut. Z’s really starting to go into berserker mode, his honed brawling skills pounding on Wilson.”

“Brawling, because he can’t outwrestle Wilson for the life of him,” snips Riley. “Z finishes up his combo with a hard uppercut that sends Wilson sprawling to the mat, trying to get himself back up to his feet, but Z grabs him and wraps his arms under his legs…not this! Z rolls Wilson onto his knees and begins to pose on top of him with the best hold he has, the damned Neblina!”

The crowd is laughing and cheering at the same time, a quick “Z-Z-Z-Z-Z!” filling the air as Z poses merrily, Wilson embarrassed. Eventually, Wilson manages to break his arms free and knock Z off of him and immediately grabs the leg of Z and standing up.

“Wilson’s looking for the figure four here,” states Stevens as Wilson steps around and reaches down for Z’s other leg, “but Z kicks him hard in the rear end that sends him stumbling forward into the corner. He hits hard and as he spins back, Z slips his legs around and droptoes him to the mat, lacing around a double toe hold, slipping his arms around Wilson’s neck in a full nelson…FINISHING TOUCHES ON WILSON!”

“Nooo!” wails Riley as the crowd explodes, Z straining Wilson with his own trademark finisher. “Apparently Z took a little something from your lessons, Mark, because there’s no way in hell he should be able to do this to a master submissionist like Wilson.”

“The referee’s lean in as Wilson tries to get out of his own hold, all wondering if there will be a submission this early. Back in the other ring, Thoth and Frost start to brawl. Frost picks up the smaller man tries to toss him over the top rope, but Thoth grabs on and Frost rolls over the top, Thoth following him to the outside. The outside is becoming more crowded that the actual ring, but right now all attention is on Wilson!”

Wilson finally manages to break free, rolling over onto his back with Z pinned beneath him. With the option of releasing Wilson or getting crushed laid out in front of him, Z chooses the former and Wilson manages to get out of his hold. As he tries to land a submission on Z, he gets nailed from behind from Chris Raynor, helping out his stablemate. Z gives him a thumbs up, but his happiness doesn’t last very long as Deathwish pulls himself back into the ring and runs at him, driving an elbow into the back of his head that sends him rolling through the ropes. However, his offense ends there as Raynor grabs him and shoves him into the corner.

“I can’t believe Z almost got the first submission of the match, on Wilson nonetheless,” admits Stevens.

“Luck. All luck!”

El Luchadore Magnifico slowly rises up to his feet, and turns around just in time to catch a Tyler McClelland dropkick into the face. He is knocked completely to the mat, and Tyler immediately tries to slap on a half crab, but ELM pulls him in just close enough so a pair of right hands to the head and a push off from his spindly Mexican legs has Tyler stumbling back on his heels. ELM reaches back and pulls himself up with the ropes as Tyler stops his reverse momentum, the new speedy men closing in on each other in the center of the ring. Tyler makes a rare mistake with one of his striking attacks, missing a looping roundhouse kick at the Mexican’s head. ELM easily ducks it and hits a dropkick of his own right into Tyler’s base leg, collapsing it beneath him.

“Magnifico is starting to take the advantage on the Dark Prophet,” promises Stevens to all the lucha libre fans watching. “He pulls himself out onto the apron, stretches back that top rope and flies back over, flopping across the downed Tyler McClelland’s chest with a springboard leg drop. He’s rolling to the outside and looking underneath the ring. What’s he looking for, Bobby?”

“That!” shrieks Riley over the approving roar of the Pacific Northwest fans as Magnifico pulls out to the preferred tool of painters, electricians and crazed lightweight wrestlers everywhere. “Magnifico shoves the ladder under the bottom rope and reaches back under, pulling out…a Mexican flag?! He waves it a few moments, and these fans are giving him an ovation… for Mexico… We’re near the border to Canada... Whatever.”

“Maybe they just respect Magnifico and his origins?” reasons Stevens.

“That or they’re just Carnie brain-washed drones!” accuses Riley.

As ELM slides back into the ring and sets the flag up in the corner, action is just as heated in the other ring. Chris Raynor is working over Deathwish, finally managing to work him into the corner, the powerful Raynor’s shoulders meeting the gut of Danny Williams repeatedly. Raynor whips him across the ring and Danny hits the corner hard, nearly bouncing out completely as Raynor follows, looking for a big spear…but Danny pushes himself up and all Raynor finds is the cold steel! Danny drops down and pulls Raynor up before shoving him sternum first into the corner. With his back turned and defenses down, Deathwish can have his way, spiking his deadly elbows right into the back of Raynor’s shoulder, really trying to work it over.

“Chris Raynor needs to start battling back about now,” informs Stevens as Danny pulls him out of the corner, spins him and tries to shove him back in. Try being the key word. “And sure enough, he is! Raynor starts to pound on Danny’s body with some hard jabs, but Danny breaks it up with another sick elbow shot to the head. Raynor goes reeling, and Deathwish follows closely, eager to keep the pressure on. But he’s baited in as Raynor explodes forward with a clothesline that knocks the Louisville, Kentucky, native completely off of his feet!”

“Ooo…Raynor’s a tough guy now. Let’s see him follow that up,” challenges Riley. “Danny, the trooper he is, is right back up to his feet and caught in an Irish whip as Raynor begins to pick up some momentum. As Danny bounces back, Raynor reaches down and gathers him up before spinning around and planting him to the mat with a ring-shaking powerslam. Raynor immediately rolls to the outside, searches under the ring a few moments and pulls out a conveniently placed steel chair. Mark, why do we have steel chairs, a ladder and a Mexican flag under the ring?”

“Umm…wow, look at that!”

“What, what?!”

In the first ring, ELM underestimated the damage his leg drop did and Tyler is already up to his feet and wielding the ladder. As the Mexican turns around from positioning his flag, he has the top of the ladder rammed into his stomach, dropping him to one knee. Tyler takes a few steps back and charges forward, this time the blow catching ELM full in the chin and knocking him flat to his back. The crowd boo’s loudly as Tyler sets up the ladder, Magnifico a very down and out man. He slowly begins to ascend it, getting closer and closer to the top of the cage.

“The Dark Prophet is nearing the top of that ladder,” updates Stevens as Tyler is a few rungs from the top, “and he’s looking to end Magnifico’s part in this match right now! He reaches the pinnacle, looks down and gathers himself for a moment before exploding off, twisting over and coming down hard for a senton bomb…BUT EL LUCHADORE MAGNIFICO ROLLS OUT OF THE WAY, AND TYLER GOES CRASHING INTO THE CANVAS!”

“Oh, that’s just dandy,” whines Riley as Magnifico pulls himself up and shakes out some cobwebs. “Now the dirty Mexican is back up to his feet and he’s pointing up to the ladder, then signals for the Mexican Pride Press, and this ignorant, spotfest loving crowd gives him an affirmative reply. No! Boo him! Come on now, with me. Booooooo. There we go!”

As Magnifico starts to climb the ladder, Raynor stands waiting with his shiny, new steel chair as Danny slowly gets up to his feet. He turns to Raynor, who lets out a battle cry and slams the chair forward, but Danny gracefully sidesteps it, pins it to the mat with one leg while flaring up the other in a sharp kick at Raynor’s head. The student, just like the teacher, can’t connect with a kick to a Carnie’s head and Raynor catches it, grabs William’s thigh and whirls him to the mat with a dragon screw leg twist. As soon as he hits the mat, Raynor tries to take advantage of Deathwish’s notoriously weak ankle, stepping around in a toe hold. Raynor’s series of moves almost works out into a very effective submission, if not for the fact Danny looks back and two inches behind his head lies a steel chair.

“Watch out, Chris!” warns Stevens in angst, but its too late as Danny grabs the chair and cracks the caveman in the side of the head. “Raynor drops falls to the mat quite awkwardly, just as Magnifico reaches the top of the ladder. He prepares to light up the Dark Prophet’s dreary world, but Chris Wilson’s recovered and he’s in the ring. He rushes at the ladder and just shoves it over, but Magnifico sees him coming, leaps into the air…AND GRABS ONTO THE CEILING OF THE CAGE!”

“Do they have monkeys in Mexico?” ponders Riley as Wilson can’t believe what he is seeing, standing there in shock. “Wilson, what are you doing...move! Magnifico dangles for a moment before dropping, falling through the air towards a stoic Wilson…AND LANDING ON HIS SHOULDERS WITH A TON OF FORCE, WRAPPING HIS LEGS AROUND AND TWISTING WILSON BACK ONTO THE FALLEN LADDER WITH A HURRICANRANA! HOLY SHIT!”

The crowd echoes, breaking into loud chants of “S-W-F” and “Holy Shit” as Wilson’s back clatters right off of the ladder. Magnifico slowly stands, somewhat started himself after the display. He closes the braces on the ladder and lies a completely disoriented Wilson on top of it before heading towards his flag.

“Magnifico’s grabbing that flag, and I don’t have any idea what point it may serve,” confesses Stevens. The crowd is equally confused until Magnifico reaches down and pulls the end off of the of the flag revealing…a very, very sharpened tip. To put it lightly, the crowd explodes.

“Okay, somebody stop him. Stop him! STOP HIM!” pleads Riley as Magnifico takes a step towards Wilson, smile on his face.

“Shades of Genesis 2,” reminisces Stevens, “when Magnifico beat Wilson for his SWF championship! Magnifico steps above Wilson’s head, aiming at his hands just like last year’s anniversary pay-per-view, and he starts to ram it down, but Tyler McClelland shoves Mag from behind, throwing off his aim...”

THWACK!

“AND PLUNGING THE SPIKE INTO WILSON’S LEG! NOOOOOO!” wails Riley as ELM turns around to battle the new threat, the team of Wilson and Prophet working fairly well at covering each other’s backs. “Wilson can never wrestle again. I weep for the future!”

“Umm, Bobby…it caught his pant leg.”

“What’s it matter?! That was still incredibly dangerous!”

ELM turns around to catch some forearm shivers to the throat, knocking his jaw to the side. Tyler grabs him on either side of his face and follows that up with a stiff head BUTT, knocking ELM absolutely silly. He whips the Luchadore against the ropes, but as ELM bounces back Tyler tries for a quick hip toss. Shifting his weight, ELM manages to reverse it, and using all the strength in his right arm to take the Dark Prophet over with a hip toss of his own that brings his opponent crashing down onto the end of the ladder not occupied by a stuck evil genius. As soon as he clatters onto the ladder, cringing, ELM drags him up to his feet and throws him up against the ropes. He follows that up with a clothesline that knocks Tyler to the outside. Wilson slowly starts to stir, and ELM doesn’t waste any more time, sprinting to the corner, head still ringing from Tyler’s strikes, and pulls himself up on the turnbuckle.

Meanwhile, back in the other ring Danny Williams has the chair unfolded and he’s picking up a hurting Raynor with lethal intent.

“Danny is looking to close the book on Chris Raynor with the Deathbomb!” shouts Stevens as Deathwish slides Raynor into a standing headscissors, back to the turnbuckle with the chair in the center of the ring. “Wait, Thoth’s back up on the turnbuckle, directly behind Williams, who has no idea! He tries to lift Raynor up, but the stout Carnie is too much and he can’t quite get him up on the first try. He goes for a second, but Raynor blasts him with a low blow! Danny’s in quite a bit of pain as Raynor crawls away.”

“Oh, it’s fine when faces do it!” complains Riley as Thoth turns around on the turnbuckle and flips back, flashbulbs blasting as two men from the favored team flip through the air. “Magnifico just lifted off, and he’s coming through the air with a shooting star press as Thoth flips over Danny’s head and slams his skull through the chair with a Scumgate!”

“MEXICAN PRIDE PRESS ON WILSON…ON THE LADDER!” clarifies Stevens as the crowd rises to its feet in a standing ovation, Thoth and ELM absolutely igniting them as the faces begin to wrest control of the match.

“Cheating, all of it!” whines Riley. “Wilson’s in a helluva lot of pain as Magnifico extracts the flag from the mat and pulls Wilson out. He’s probably going to try and follow that up with the Sangria Stretch, as Wilson’s really hurting right now…CAVALRY! YESSS!”

The aforementioned cavalry would be a towering pillar of muscle named Frost c, and he’s just slid into the ring behind ELM. The crowd shouts out cries of warning, but its too late as Magnifico is hit hard from behind by Frost. He stumbles forward and drops to one knee, and his assailant keeps on coming. Frost raises the chair high above his head and prepares to drop it down across the tanned back of ELM, but the wily Mexican rolls to the side and all Frost finds it canvas. ELM kip ups to his feet and runs to the ropes, bouncing off as Frost rises back up to his full height. Still holding the chair as if it were a small toy in one hand, he juts out a big boot that could kill. But ELM, feeding off of his momentum and the crowd, baseball slides right under it and keeps on sliding back up to his feet.

“Magnifico is looking unbeatable at the moment!” gushes Stevens as Frost awkwardly brings down his boot and turns with his chair wielded and ready for action. “Frost spins to face Mag, but the multi-time light-heavyweight champion leaps into the air, kicking out towards the monster…AND DROPKICKING THE CHAIR INTO HIS FACE WITH THE SPANISH CONQUESTOR!”

“LUCH-A-DORE! LUCH-A-DORE!”

The crowd is rallying behind the seemingly underdog ELM, who’s been through a hell of an ultimate submission and now is fighting man nearly twice his weight. Frost topples to the mat as Magnifico gets back up to his feet and immediately heads over to the turnbuckle. As he does this, he turns his head from Frost, who promptly sits up.

You can’t stop him!” giggles Riley maniacally as Frost reaches his feet and trudges towards the corner just as ELM pulls himself up to the top, RVD-style, and starts to spin. “Magnifico spins around and nearly has a heart attack as the abominable snowman himself climbs up onto the first rope and simply rams his fist into the tiring Mexican’s face, the momentum suddenly slowing.”

“Hey, they’re on the top rope, and that’s Mag’s territory,” reassures Stevens as Frost climbs up a rope higher to the second rope. “Frost grabs both of Magnifico’s arms, double underhooks them…oh my God…the crowd is up on its feet, dreading what they fear is coming as Frost kicks off….AND LANDS A TOP ROPE EARLY WINTER ON EL LUCHADORE MAGNIFICO!”

“HOLY SHIT!”

“S – W –F!”

“HOLY SHIT!”

“S –W-F!”

“He sure as hell owns it,” mocks Riley as ELM and Frost come crashing down into the sit down powerbomb. “Frost slowly stands, a pinfall doing him no good here, and he pulls Magnifico up with him. He forces his powerful arms around the back of Mag’s head…COBRA CLUTCH! It’s over! Lights out, Magnifico!”

“Frost’s deadly finisher has put down heavyweights early on in a match before,” solemnly declares Stevens, “and right now its hooked onto a lightweight who’s wrestled around an hour already tonight. The fatigue, even for a man in Mag’s incredible condition, is setting in, and setting in swiftly.”

“It’s over, Mark. Over! Wahahahaha!”

Magnifico struggles in the hold, trying desperately to find some way of escape, but he finds absolutely no give from the Nordic warrior. The crowd begins to sit on its hands, sensing the end, until a certain Joker sneaks into the ring and grabs the ladder, the crowd realizing this and rising to their feet once more.

“Edwin’s in the ring, and he’s got the ladder!” stammers Stevens in surprise,”and-

CLANG!

-he just used it on the back of Frost’s head!”

The giant tumbles to the ground and Edwin pounds him out of the ring with the ladder, forcing him to the chaos of the “No Man’s Land” between the ring and cage. This has given Wilson enough time to recover from the excellent beating he took from Magnifico, and he staggers up to his feet and tries to come up behind Edwin. The Crown Prince of Flash and Panache whirls around and faces him, just as Wilson was preparing to cinch on a rear waistlock. He meekly backs off as the crowd starts to cheer, the two mortal enemies locked in a staredown…

“Oh it’s on now!” shouts Riley as Wilson and Edwin begin to trade blows near the ropes. “Edwin throws a wild right at Wilson, which is promptly caught and Edwin is twisted into a half nelson. Wilson tries to lace around another arm, but Edwin flares back a mule kick that catches Wilson right in the crotch and drops him to his knees. Edwin grabs Wilson and tosses him out of the ring.”

“Looks like the Crown Prince’s new sense of aggression is helping him out against his old foe,” states Riley. “Edwin drops out of the ring and starts to pound on Wilson with some right hands as the former heavyweight champion struggles to his feet. Edwin pulls back for a powerful haymaker and as he lunges forward, trying to discombobulate Wilson’s jaw, he has his punch dodged and Wilson takes him down with a drop toe hold in a rather fluid reversal that bounces Edwin’s head off of the cage.”

Wilson doesn’t hesitate to grab Edwin, pull him up to his knees and begin to rake his face across the cage. Edwin lets out a scream of pain as Wilson holds tightly onto his long locks, as if trying to rub the seemingly ever-present smirk off of his opponent’s face. He eventually stands Edwin up, backs him against the cage and laces a knife-edge chop across his chest, eliciting a loud “WHOOO!” from the attention-divided crowd who are still trying profusely to keep up with all the action. Wilson resets his arm, preparing for another blast, but Edwin uses his educated feet to land a couple strikes across Wilson’s knees before reaching up, grabbing the cage and then using both legs to shove his adversary back against the ring. He releases the cage and takes a step forward, the crowd cheering wildly.

Edwin MacPhisto grabs Chris Wilson around the back of his neck and slams his head into the cage for a case of an eye for an eye, or in this case a pint of blood for a pint of blood, grinding his forehead back and forth and causing the blood to begin to flow even harder. Wilson tries to fight back with some elbows, but Edwin isn’t affected as he whips Wilson right into the ring post, toppling him to the mat. Wilson tries to rise up to his feet, the match slowly starting to take its toll on him, but Edwin is right there, grabbing Wilson around the back of his pants and his shirt and spiking him shoulder first into the bracing of the cage.

“Look how honorable your champion is now!” accuses Riley. “He’s turning into exactly what he used to fight-“

“Oh, don’t start that B.S,” interrupts Stevens as Edwin slips on a side headlock and drags Wilson towards the door. He shouts at the officials and the door is opened, not wanting to chance angering the SWF Champion. “Edwin’s going to do what it takes to win that match, and if that means Wilson can’t walk out of here tonight, so be it.”

“Spoken like a true hypocrite. Edwin pushes his way through to the outside and slams Wilson up against the barricade, security holding back the rabid front row fans as Edwin rears back and-

SLAP!

-blasts an open palm slap across Wilson’s chest. The evil genius winces as Edwin grabs him by the back of the neck again, takes a few steps and tosses Wilson into the cage, the Magnificent Seven’s leader splattering against the steel like a bug on a windshield. Wilson collapses to the floor, Edwin grabbing him and pulling him up to his feet and begins to rub Wilson’s face against the cage again, nearly jogging as he drags Wilson around the entire side of the cage and towards the announcers’ tables. He releases a blood-drenched Wilson, who collapses rather promptly to the thinly-matted floor. Edwin looks down at said thin mat and begins to peel it up.

“Oh, this is just fair as all get out,” complains Riley. “Not only can you not win the match out here, but now he’s exposing cold, hard concrete in which I’m sure is a forewarning to Wilson’s head getting dropped on it. Faaaan-tastic. And you support this, Mark?”

Stevens pauses a moment. “Everyone knew going into this match how violent it would be, Robert, especially these two men, the team captains. And it’s sad to say, but Wilson probably isn’t out of this just yet, as bad as it may look.”

Meanwhile, everyone else brawls around the two archrivals. Blood soaked, beyond fatigue only pure hate driving them on, the Midnight Carnival and the Magnificent 7 duel endlessly.

“The rest of the action is almost impossible to call.” Stevens yells while scanning the caged interior.

“The rest of the action is almost impossible to fathom.” Riley adds.

The combo of Frost and TNT, who have stuck together the whole match, now have their sights on Chris Raynor. Thompson grinds in an armbar while Frost clubs his shoulder with stiff rights in ring one. The scarlet bedecked and still bleeding Z, stands toe to toe on the floor trading punches with the Dark Prophet, while Thoth and Danny Williams battle up the walkway from them. Williams shoots a palm strike up into Thoth’s nose, but he weaves to his left and catches Danny by his loose other wrist. Thoth whips Williams around and down toward McClelland. With his back turned, Tyler doesn’t see Williams barreling toward him and winds up bumped in the back by his stable mate. Prophet stumbles forward into Z, who catches the man around the neck and slams him down with a DDT out of pure instinct.

“Z looks to have the Dark Prophet at his mercy thanks to some inadvertent teamwork with Thoth.”

Z’s white teeth shine like a strange beacon through his red stained visage as he stands up. He puts his mouth up the cage mesh and hollers to the crowd, “NELBINA TIME!”

“Oh, dear god, I thought we could avoid that!” Riley covers his eyes not wanting to see Z lock the Prophet into the embarrassing maneuver.

“Then check out Edwin and Wilson, who continue to frantically go at it in the center piece of this whole chaotic tussle.”

Edwin starts to stand Wilson up, spinning him so their backs are together. Wilson, even in his haze, realizes this can’t be good and immediately spins out of it. Before Edwin can recover, Wilson shoves him forward, his skull cracking off of the steel bracing and causing Edwin to simply go limp and topple to the mat. Wilson staggers towards the cage, holding it for balance as he recovers. He takes a few deep breaths before heading over to the announcer’s table and beginning to tear it apart. He pulls out one of the monitors just as Edwin comes too, rolling up to his feet. Wilson turns and holds the television high in the air before swinging it down with a deathblow that crashes across the back of Edwin’s head and drops him into a puddle of his own blood.

“Ouch!” winces Riley as Edwin lies prone, between the exposed concrete and the announcer’s table. “Wilson’s picking him up and bringing him over here towards our table, which is quite all right by me, and laying him on top of it. Wilson grabs a steel chair from Funyon, folds it up and –

CRACK!

-smashes it down onto Edwin, who really deserves that for getting Wilson all bloody and everything.”

“You are a freaking moron,” declares Stevens bluntly, shaking his head as both announcers stand up, trying to avoid getting hit when their table implodes. “Wilson tosses the chair away and stands up on the table, bring Edwin up with him. Wilson places him in a standing head scissors and points at a few fans in the audiences, a sardonic smile slipping through his crimson mask as he reaches down and tries to bring Edwin up for a piledriver. Even with blood drained and brain scrambled, his instincts kick in, legs kicking feverishly trying to throw off Wilson’s attempted piledriver. Wilson grits his teeth and tries again, but once more, Edwin falls back to the table, this time using him momentum to push back…

…AND BACKDROP WILSON RIGHT ACROSS THE TOP OF THE BARRICADE!”

MAC-PHIS-TOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

“That was sick!” cries Riley as Edwin drops down to one knee on the table, turning around to face Wilson, who looks like he just got hit by a bus as he writhes in pain on the top of the cement, his whole body twitching yet he still can’t seem to get the arch of his back off of the crest of the barricade. “Wilson may not be able to move again after that handy little reversal by Edwin, and not its time to see if the big boy can follow it up. Edwin stands up and drops off the table, scything an elbow across Wilson’s throat as he does so, that being enough force to finally leverage the beached Wilson to the floor.”

Back in ring one, CCBB continues to torture Raynor’s arm with medical precision as they desperately seek the submission to end this hellish match. Suddenly, the fans pop as ELM emerges above the chaos to stand on top of the upper right corner of the first ring. The small Mexican musters all of his stamina to lean into the ropes and spring off with a twist. TNT shouts at Frost to turn around as he works the armbar on Raynor. Frost slowly spins around and catches the corkscrewing body of Magnifico full in the chest to the delight of the fans.

“ELM’s back in it and he takes Frost out of it.” Stevens bellows, his throat near raw from screaming out the action.

The Luchadore leaps off of Frost with his arm tucked in front of his legs like a bullfrog to land next to Thompson. He spins around with his right leg out to catch TNT in the ankle and bowl him over with the leg sweep. He topples backwards, while still holding onto Raynor and carries him down for the ride in driving the man’s shoulder into the canvas.

Edwin stands a wobbly Wilson up and pounds his head off of the table a few times, each time seemingly getting slower and slower as both men are beginning to show that they can’t go much longer. Edwin pulls Wilson up one last time and looks at him, providing a rather eerie shot of two blood-stained warriors at the end of their ropes, before he runs towards the cage and jams Wilson into it, grating his face one last time before releasing him. The crowd is still just buzzing, popping wildly, cheering and booing at random times as ten men continue to set the Key Arena ablaze.

“I don’t think Wilson has any more blood in him for Edwin to rub out,” notes Riley surprisingly seriously. “This match is going to end with both of these guys dead on the outside.” He pauses somberly. “Oh well.”

Edwin waltzes over and picks up the chair Wilson used earlier on him, turning back to an evil genius who may qualify as an evil retard tomorrow after the head trauma he’s absorbed tonight. Edwin stands him up against the cage, back of his head right next to the bracing, takes a few steps back and swings wildly at Wilson’s head. At the very last second, the previously discussed head trauma pays off as Wilson doesn’t have the balance to even lean correctly and he collapses to the floor. Edwin’s shot does connect right where Wilson’s head was, however, but when steel hits steel the pain causes Edwin to let out a yelp and drop the chair. Wilson starts to crawl on his hands and knees towards the timekeeper’s table again.

“Wilson can’t even get to his feet,” cites Stevens as Wilson reaches the timekeeper’s table. “He’s looking for that ring bell, fumbling around on the top of the table for it. He grabs it, and starts to turn-

CRACK!

-but Edwin’s recovered from that missed shot and he has his chair back in hand, and on the back of Wilson! The crowd pops wildly again as Edwin grabs Wilson, who still is holding limply onto the bell, and drags him back towards the bare cement. Edwin starts to set up that chair, and its not looking good for everyone’s least favorite evil genius.”

Back on the outside of the cage, Edwin slowly drags a dazed and very confused Wilson up to his feet.

“Edwin pulls himself tightly back to back with Wilson, that chair looming ominously,” declares Stevens. “He pushes up on Wilson’s armpits, lifting him in the air, possibly trying for his new finisher, the Union Jack, but Wilson’s not dead yet as he spryly wriggles himself free and falls to the floor in a crouch. Edwin spins on his heels as quick as he can, trying to reattach himself to Wilson, but all he finds is Wilson’s forearm lodged in his crotch after a nasty low blow! Edwin doubles over, and Wilson once again finds the ring bell…

DING!

..and rises out of his crouch with an absolutely brutal shot to the already battered cranium of one Edwin MacPhisto!”

As Edwin falls, he tumbles into the chair he set up seconds earlier, knocking it over and somewhat breaking his fall.

“Yessss!” cheers Riley as Wilson stands up and looks down at Edwin. “Wilson’s back on the offensive, and he drags Edwin up his girlishly long hair and slaps on a full nelson. Edwin offers little resistance as Wilson swings him towards the bare cement, slipping his leg around the front of Edwin and diving forward……PLATINUM NIGHTMARE ON THE CEMENT! WOO, BABY! GOOD NIGHT EDWIN!”

BOOOOOOOO!

The crowd lets Wilson hear it as Edwin’s unprotected skull goes crashing into the cement. He lies motionless on the outside as Wilson stands himself up and begins to slowly hobble back around to one of the doors.

“Thoth and Frost are squaring off in one ring while the Dark Prophet and Chris Raynor battle in the other,” calls an extremely confused Stevens. “Thoth stomps down Frost in the corner, keeping the advantage on the Clansmen. He drags him up to his feet in the corner, but Frost grabs him and shoves him into the aforementioned turnbuckle, and starts to choke him, massive hands wrapped around his opponent’s throat. Thoth reaches up and rakes Frost’s eyes, giving him enough of an opening to escape the choke. Thoth’s really starting to get worn down here.”

“If you’ve been through what he’s been through tonight, you would be too!” assures Riley. “Thoth explodes out of the corner with a clothesline, trying to take down Frost, but he simply bounces off of the beastly man and Frost picks him up and places him on his shoulder. The crowd boos in excitement as Frost gets a head of steam and heads towards the edge of the ring, looking as if he’s preparing to hurl Thoth over the top rope and into the cage! He gets near the edge and as he tries to push Thoth over the top rope, the Balancer slips off of his back! Frost is bewildered and he turns around to meet some hard right hands to the jaw. Yeah, those aren’t going to work very well.”

Frost continues his no-selling and Irish whips Thoth towards the ropes as Stevens restarts his play-by-play. “Frost is really just man-handling Thoth, who can’t get anything going. He rebounds right back towards Frost, who throws out a dangerous looking lariat that would of done a nice job of beheading, but Thoth ducks it. He hits the opposite ropes and as Frost turns, the Balancer leaps and uses his entire body…TO TAKE DOWN THE NORDIC MONSTER WITH A CROSS BODY!”

“Frost is down,” moans Riley, “and now Thoth is right on top of him, as apparently the old adage of bigger and harder holds true. Thoth starts to strain Frost in a Mexican surfboard, but he releases…and latches on…A DRAGON SLEEPER!? What the hell is it with this team and that blasted move!”

“I don’t know, but its sure effective because Frost is really struggling. Thoth is using every ounce of strength left in his battered body to choke the life out of the Iceman. It could end right here!”

In the other ring, Chris Raynor and Tyler McClelland trade some sluggish, yet still potent, right hands. The battle is originally won by Raynor, but Tyler begins to attack his weakened shoulder and the tag champion winces in pain, dropping to one knee as the pressure is kept on him. The Dark Prophet grabs Raynor’s bad arm, spins him around into a wristlock, and snaps out a quick trio of martial arts kicks to the shoulder blade. He releases the hold, and Raynor falls forward, trying to get back up to his feet. A few forearm shots to the shoulder later, and the man formerly known as Outcast attempts to whip the Carnie against the ropes, but he’s not strong enough to complete it, and Raynor reverses it to an Irish whip of his own! As Tyler bounces back, Raynor floors him with a big boot. Tyler immediately staggers back up to his feet, but that’s ill advised as he is immediately scooped up and planted back down to the mat with a slow yet deliberate powerbomb.

“I think I know what Raynor is looking for here,” predicts Stevens as Raynor doesn’t release the hold, instead picking Tyler back up and falling backwards. “CHRIS SMASH! Tyler’s hung up across the top rope, and he rolls over to the outside as Raynor falls to the mat, clutching that shoulder which is obviously bothering him. He manages to clear one member of the opposing team out, but here comes Wilson! Dammit!”

”And over here, Frost is still stuck in that stupid dragon sleeper.”

CRACK!

”-but TNT rolls into the ring and saves his tag partner with a scintillating chair shot across the back of Thoth!”

Thoth slowly releases hold and stands as Taylor Nicholas Thompson prepares for another shot. Thoth wobbles to his feet and TNT rears back-

CRACK!

-and brains the Balancer with another chair shot, but it has no effect!

“TNT’s chair shots are being dished out to no avail on Thoth, who apparently has caught about his eighth wind of the night!” shouts Stevens. TNT curses and drops the chair as Thoth takes a step forward. “TNT is doing the smart thing at the moment and is heading for the hills! He slides out of the ring and Thoth is following. The Mag 7 member quickly exits the cage and looks around for the quickest escape route, his eyes eventually settling on the top of the cage. He debates it for a moment, but as Thoth closes in, he swallows hard and begins to climb up!”

“That’s right, Taylor,” encourages Riley. “Run, my boy! Run! Thoth exits and sees TNT scaling. He doesn’t even hesitate as he reaches up right above the door and begins to pull himself up, straining the first few feet as he uses his upper body to pull the rest of him up. Marky, I’m going to take a guess that this isn’t going to end good for somebody.”

“Right now it looks like its going to be bad for Thoth,” prophecies Stevens as Danny Williams and a half-dead Z slide into the ring at the same time, “because Frost is rising to his feet, seemingly unaffected by that Mexican surfboard to dragon sleeper. This guy is crazy!”

“TNT has reached the pinnacle of the cage! This is INTENSE!” Riley shouts over the consistently heated crowd.

“But here comes Thoth in pursuit!” Stevens shoots back, observing a bloodied Thoth, who with all his might grips the ledge of the cage with his fingers, and pulls himself up.

Thoth rises to his feet, staggers a bit, having to concentrate to even stand, and then approaches the crimson soaked TNT, who wearily leans against the cage’s supportive frame that lines its ceiling.

“And you can really see the fatigue setting in. Everyone involved in this match is moving at half of their usual pace,” Stevens chimes in.

“Even with this newfound surge of energy, Thoth is still a lazy pile of shit.”

“Riley, wasn’t it you that would relentlessly praise him just a few weeks ago?”

“You can’t tell me what I do and don’t do!”

Taylor, noticing the advancing Clan member, ceases his resting period, and lurches away from the cage bracing to a full standing position. Thompson reels back a bit, and with a single, forceful motion, thrusts his clenched fist at the forehead of Thoth! His opponent catches his hand in mid-movement however, and retaliates by driving the base of his knuckle into TNT’s jaw with a stiff uppercut! Taylor stumbles backwards, but immediately recovers, coming back at Thoth, and the two begin to trade flurries of right hands!

“Frost rumbles out of the ring and looks up, seeing his tag partner and the man who was just trying to choke him out and gets the bright idea to start climbing up. With him up there, I’d be surprised if the whole cage just didn’t cave in,” Steven points out.

Frost intertwines his fingers through the chain-linked side of the cage, and begins climbing, his feet slipping every once and a while, yet keeping a steady upward pace.

“And now the two are brawling at the top of the cage! TNT seems to be gaining a slight advantage due to his strength, and snaps his arm across the bare chest of Thoth with a knife-edge chop!” Marky Mark wails out in excitement.

*** SLAP ***

“WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“And another!”

*** SLAP ***

“WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“And another!”

*** SLAP ***

“WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“And another!”

*** WHIFF ***

TNT’s broad arm slices through nothing but air, narrowly missing Thoth, who drops to his knees, and plunges his right arm into Thompson’s pelvic region!

“LOW BLOW! DISQUALIFY HIM!” Riley angrily accuses.

Taylor and Thoth seemingly trade off positions, as Thoth stands, and TNT drops to his knees in testicular agony.

“Look out Thoth! It’s Frost! Behind you!” Stevens warns the Balancer.

Frost, also a bloodied, lethargic heap of skin, bones, and rock hard muscle, treads softly up behind his Iori-look-alike adversary.

Wilson jumps Raynor, not letting him reach his feet after the combo on Tyler. There’s no rest for the weary as a visibly exhausted tired Raynor tries to battle back, but finds his weakened shoulder being continually exposed by two savvy veterans. Wilson stands him up and whips him against the ropes. Each man’s moves are exaggerated as fatigue, pain and loss of blood begin to set in at various degrees. Raynor slowly comes back to Wilson, and is taken down by a hard armbar. Raynor winces, visibly hurting as elsewhere, El Luchadore Magnifico looks up and observes Thoth about to be put at a very big disadvantage on the ceiling of the cage.

“Mag looks up and sees that Thoth is about to get taken out by Chilly Chilly Bang Bang,” notices Stevens, “and he heads towards the door. It’s still open and he steps towards it-

CLANG!

-BUT THE DOOR IS SLAMMED RIGHT ACROSS THE TOP OF MAGNIFICO’S HEAD…”

“BY MERCURY?!” finishes Riley.

“Mercury, a man who’s done really nothing but job since he returned, just came out of the crowd,” states a confused Stevens, “and now he’s entering the cage area! Wilson and Mercury exchanged words earlier about the latter’s failure of a return. Do you think Merc’s going to get some revenge here?”

Frosty, still not spotted by Thoth, steps down on the metallic mesh ceiling of the cage, creating a slight screeching noise of steel on steel as the chain-link ceiling of the cage gives in a bit, and Thoth’s ears perk up with suspicion, and he twirls around to face the Icelandic monster! For an instant, Thoth lunges back in shock, his composure suddenly developing into one of uneasiness. Thoth snaps out of it however, and immediately lashes out at Frost’s bruised and battered forehead with a quick knuckle above his right eyebrow! Blood flows like wine as Thoth continues to pummel on Frost’s face, occasionally switching off and facing TNT, delivering a punch across his cheek also!

“And look at Thoth getting those cheap shots in!” Riley quips out.

Stevens immediately retorts “Cheap shots? He’s single handedly taking on Chilly Chilly Bang Bang! And I must say, Frost is bleeding to the point where if he was a snowcone, he’d be cherry flavored!”

“…what?”

“You know…cherry…crimson colored…like blood?” Grand Slam apprehensively explains.

“…man Grand Spam, has anyone ever told you that you have no sense of humor?”

Stevens sadly holds his head down in shame, “Several times.”

Meanwhile, back in the ring just vacated by Thoth, TNT and Frost, Z and Danny Williams begin their duel, each one suffering from a rather obvious injury. Deathwish has a slight limp and a huge brace on his ankle while Z’s neck has taken abuse the entire match. Z flies into Deathwish, pounding on him with hard rights and eventually going down for a single leg takedown around Danny’s bad ankle. Deathwish manages to keep all of his weight on his other leg and drop a double axe handle across the back of Z’s neck, dropping him to his knees. Williams traps Z in a standing head scissors, and locks his arms around his waist. Z quickly drops to his knees to block the Deathbomb! Williams bends down with Z, and with veins bulging out of his neck strains to lift Z back up to his feet. However Z won’t budge, and Williams quits pulling. Despite pouring sweat and being out of breath, Williams summons his power for another lift.

“Deathwish is trying to overpower Z, but he just can’t connect with his finisher!” exclaims Stevens as Mercury and Wilson face off in the other ring. “Raynor rolls into the corner, holding onto his shoulder as Mercury and Wilson look at each other…and shake hands!”

“What’s Wilson thinking?!” moans Riley. “Mercury just kind of comes and goes, he isn’t Magnificent Seven material.”

“I think Wilson knows what Mercury is capable of, and he’s taking a gamble.” Mercury pulls a bottle out of his pocket, with a rag stuck in the top. “And apparently Mercury’s brought a drink to toast this occasion, though that probably isn’t the best place.”

“Umm..Mark, your ‘drink’ has a rag in it. I believe that would be a cocktail.”

Mark Stevens, the usually extremely capable announcer, is momentarily speechless as Mercury pulls a lighter out and ignites the rag, handing it to Wilson and stepping out of the ring, backing out of the door, smiling. “Chris Wilson has a freaking Molotov cocktail in his hand!” rasps Stevens as Wilson grins, heads to the corner of the ring, and pitches it towards the center of the ring. “AND HE JUST LIT THE RING ON FIRE! A CIRCLE OF FLAMES HAS ENGULFED THE ENTIRE RING! He’s lost it!”

“What the hell is he doing?!” screams Riley. “Get Smokey the Bear out here or something.”

“Smokey’s for forest fires, Riley.”

“Wha..whatever! I can’t even condone this! He’s fucking lost it!”

Back in the non-burning ring, Williams takes several deep breaths, and looks around to make sure no one is going to interrupt the lift attempt. Suddenly, Williams cries “IIIIIIIIIIEEEE!” and rips Z’s knees off the mat! Instead of lifting Z on both his shoulders, Williams drapes Z just over his right shoulder! The crowd knows what this means, and lets out a collective gasp before they get their cameras ready. Williams drops to one knee, and plants Z’s neck and shoulders into the mat with Deathbomb v.01! THUMP! Williams doesn’t hold for the pin like usual, and just lets Z’s corpse flop face first on the mat.

“Z is dead, and it could be the end for Team Carnival!” shouts Stevens as Raynor and Wilson begin to circle each other in the ring of fire, which is nearly as large as the ring it’s contained in. “Raynor and Wilson are dead men walking and Z just took that sick move from Deathwish. I doubt Z can last much longer, especially if Deathwish tries for the…he’s doing it! Dammit!”

Williams quickly rolls Z over, sits his lifeless torso up, and snaps on the Deathlock! The pain revives Z from his safely numb coma, and sends him into horrific screams. Williams’ arms shake with strain, as he tries to twist Z’s head backwards. Z starts crying out “Help! Someone.....Please! Help!...Ahhhhhhhhhh!” The ringside officials lean into the cage as far as they can, waiting to hear those magic words.

He strains, trying to do anything to escape Deathwish’s tight grip, but it’s all in vain as Z cannot escape the move on his own. His neck is near the breaking point and Danny Williams has the move locked on nearly perfectly.

“Z’s going to give in!” giggles Riley, before he nearly wets his pants as he looks over to the other ring. “Oh God…Chris Raynor and Chris Wilson are locked up, collar and elbow, in the center of the circle of fire. Raynor’s strength advantage helps him out and he powers Wilson down to his knees, but Wilson exposes his shoulder again and rolls over, twisting Raynor down to the mat with an arm drag and getting awfully close to the flames. Mark, hold me!”

“I’d rather not,” replies Stevens. “Wilson and Raynor hop back up to their feet and begin to circle again, Wilson’s face completely soaked in blood and Raynor’s shoulder hanging limply at his side. Wilson laces a chop across Raynor’s chest, then another, and another. Raynor staggers back towards the flames as Wilson tries for a forth. Using his good arm, Raynor knocks it aside and sends a pair of forearm shivers into Wilson’s mouth. He turns and whips Wilson towards the other side of the ring. The evil genius gingerly hops over the flames, bounces back as Raynor tries for a high spinebuster, but Wilson floats over and shoves Raynor away. As he turns-

POP!

“SUPER KICK!” squeals Riley in delight as Raynor’s neck is snapped back and he drops to the mat. “Wilson reaches deep into one of his pockets…and pulls out a long strand of piano wire! Good night, sweet Louisianan!”

As Wilson waits for Raynor to get back up, Z is slowly fading, but then…

THUMP!

For some reason Williams cries out in pain, and releases his grip from Z’s head. Z drops back to the mat, and rolls out of the ring where he passes out. Realizing someone kicked him in the back, Williams climbs to his feet, and turns around to come face to face with a furious Edwin MacPhisto! Williams eyes bulge out of his head, and his tan skin briefly turns as white as a ghost from shock. People in the crowd are literally screaming at the top of their lungs at the Kodak moment.

“Edwin, Edwin’s recovered!” marks Stevens. “We were so intent on the burning and top of the cage action and Z dying we totally forgot we had an unconscious world champion in front of us!”

“You forgot, I knew he was up and getting back into the ring the whole time. Too bad Danny didn’t.”

Williams quickly comes to his senses and fires an elbow at Edwin’s face! Edwin raises his arms and blocks it! Before Williams can follow, Edwin blasts his jaw with a hooking right Shotei! SMACK! Edwin follows with another from his left hand! SMACK! Williams is wobbled and Edwin and starts firing away with left and right Shoteis! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Sweat flies everywhere from the stiff strikes, that leaves Williams out on his feet. Edwin lets out an excited scream, and leaps high into the air! Once Edwin’s jump reaches peak height, he nails Williams right in the mouth with a Gamengiri! Williams eyes roll up in his head, and he hits the mat like a sack of potatoes. The crowd is going nuts, feeling the arena with enough electricity to light up Times Square on New Year’s Eve.

Edwin reaches down, quickly removes Williams’ protective ankle brace from his limp foot, and locks on the Ankle Lock! Williams comes back to life with an agonizing scream. Edwin scissors Williams leg, and falls to the mat for more leverage.

MAC-PHIS-TOOOOOOOOOO!

“ANKLE LOCK! ANKLE LOCK ON WILLIAMS!” screams Stevens above the roar of the crowd. “All hell has broken lose, but most important is the fact that right now Danny William’s chronically bad ankle has just been singled out by a very angry and very focused Edwin MacPhisto.”

“Don’t get too happy just yet,” warns Riley as Raynor reaches his feet. “Wilson’s about the close the book on this match himself. The caveman’s up to his full height, visibly exhausted, and Wilson comes up behind him, wrapping the wire around his neck tautly and yanking back with all of his force. It’s like a good old-fashioned race! Who’s going to give out first?”

“I’m not sure,” admits Stevens, “but neither man is going down without a fight! Raynor rears back with some stiff head butts to Wilson’s nose, enough to separate the two enough and put enough ease on the wire that Raynor has some movement. He reaches back, grabs Wilson underneath his arms and lifts him up…oh my god…he’s looking for an old-school Acid Rayn! Wilson realizes what is happening, but there’s little he can do…Ack, Raynor’s arm just gave out as he came down! Wilson still hit that may hard and took most of the brunt of the reverse Razor’s Edge, but Raynor is paying for it as he collapses beside Wilson.”

“Come on, Wilson, you bum!” shouts Riley. “Wilson’s out of it and Raynor stands, grabbing Wilson’s leg, stepping through and twisting him over…SHARPSHOOTER! SHARPSHOOTER ON WILSON! Wilson’s taken a hurricanrana and a Mexican Pride Press on a ladder, not to mention being backdropped over the cement barricade, and now Raynor is tearing away at his broken spine!”

“Raynor’s got his hold locked in, Edwin has his…but wait, Danny manages to roll over and boot Edwin in the face! Our champion rolls back as Danny works him way up to his feet, looking for his ankle brace. He sees Edwin’s already rolling through and up to his feet, so he steps forward and takes a swing..but his ankle gives out!” Stevens is just as excited as the crowd as Danny stumbles forward into Edwin’s clutches. “Edwin spins around, back to back with Danny and lifts him up into the air, he steps forward…Canadian backbreaker…he twists Danny around and takes another step…UNION JACK!!!! UNION JACK AND ‘DEATHWISH’ DANNY WILLIAMS JUST FOUND A GENIE TO GRANT HIS WISH!”

“Oh that is not good,” moans Riley as Tyler McClelland slowly crawls up onto the ring post. “Wilson is getting ready to tap as Raynor tears away at him, but the Dark Prophet is up top! Raynor doesn’t see him and he leaps into the air, throwing himself towards Raynor’s back…’LIVIN IT UP’ 450 SPLASH RIGHT INTO CHRIS RAYNOR’S BACK! That breaks up the hold on Edwin. An exhausted Raynor has had no break as he’s taken on one man after another. Holy crap, I can’t keep up with all of this.”

The train wreck that is Tyler, Chris and Chris leaves the burning ring cluttered, with the Dark Prophet getting up to his feet first. Raynor tries to stand, but Tyler stomps away at his shoulder then drops down, straining it with a fujiwara armbar. Meanwhile, Edwin grabs a lifeless Danny Williams and twists him around into another ankle lock, the wave of pain shooting through his body enough to jolt him back to some sense of reality.

“Now the race is on!” exclaims Stevens as the crowd tries to focus on two men at once, trying to figure which will tap. “Edwin torques that ankle of Williams as Tyler pushes himself and Raynor closer to the flames, their hot tips getting very close to the two combatants. Oh my, this is sick…Tyler’s trying to shove Raynor into the flames, sacrificing himself at the same time!”

“He’s fucking suicidal!” screams Riley. “He lost his wife and his child and now he just doesn’t care. Raynor’s shoulder is being completely torn to pieces by that armbar, and his free arm is mere inches away from the flames, Tyler pushing him closer and closer, trying to get his head into the fire.”

Thoth floors a shocked TNT with a swift forearm across the face, sending him to the rough, steel, mesh roof of the cage. He turns around to face Frost, who has taken this free second of his to lumber back, and forge forward with a big boot! Thoth steps to the side and the freight train that is Frost goes soaring by! Frosty, narrowly missing Thoth, still carries through with his momentum, consequently big booting one of the steel cage’s ceiling’s support brackets on accident! Frost lets out a grunt of mild pain, but quickly turns to face his opponent, who catches him with a swift sidekick to the gut! Frost grimaces, clutching his throbbing stomach, and Thoth hooks his right arm underneath his pelvis, and flips him vertically upside-down with his other!

Mark observes what is inevitably a set up for a move, and shrieks out his predictions, “OH NO! Thoth has upturned Frost, and looks ready to crater onto the cage mesh with a tombstone piledriver! But wait! Thoth is modifying the maneuver by entrapping Frost’s legs in the pits of his arms, cradling him…oh no.”

“Do something TNT!” Bobby pleads to Frost’s lifeless teammate just fee away from this ensuing massacre.

Thoth, cradling Frost upside down in his arms, falters back and forth, attempting to maintain Frost’s rather bulky weight within his grasps. He stumbles backwards, and in a rather gauche moment, trips over the thick steel structure that is the cage bracing, and topples backwards to a sit-out position, Frost’s skull awkwardly shattering onto the solid steel!

*** CRACK ***

The crowd shrieks in shock, sympathetically letting out a groan as a thunderous “HOLY SHIT!” chant emits from the stoked audience.

“OH MY GOD!!!” Mark screams out in horror. “Thoth was going for the Riot of the Blood, his patented cradle tombstone piledriver, but the weighted burden of Frost was just too much for the exhausted Thoth, as he fell back, and resorted to a sit-out version, and onto the cage’s steel skeleton too top it off!”

“…” Riley stares in shock, evidentially contemplating a heelish and witty remark to ramble off. “Um…Well, what the hell is Thoth doing with all these flashy moves and whatnot? He should be locking on a submission hold right now!”

“He’s just wearing him out Booby.”

“Please refrain from calling me Booby.”

“No.”

“Fair enough,” Riley meagerly mumbles.

Thoth rolls away from his previously dealt carnage, observing the massacre in which he has just committed. A slight smirk forms across his face as legions of blood soak through the steel mesh and into the ring below, and then he stands to his feet, meandering over to the gradually recovering TNT!

“And there’s no rest for Thoth, as he still has another Chilly Chilly Bang Bang member to rid himself of!” Stevens shouts out over the still constant “HOLY SHIT!” chants.

“NO! Look out TNT!”

Thompson struggles to his feet, peering down and letting ribbons of blood streak out of his now reddened dreadlocks, but his moment of tranquility is quickly put to an end as Thoth drives the bridge of his foot into the side of TNT’s head! Taylor sways backwards, right at the edge of the steel cage, and Thoth lets out a mighty roar to the fans, who begin to scream and shout in anticipation!

“Ooooooh shit…” Riley remarks.

“Is that all you have to say about this, this could be the match! Thoth is gonna throw him of-“

“…damn!” Riley corrects himself.

“That’s not much better…”

“What?!? I’M NOT GAY!” Riley screams.

“…”

“Thoth’s on top of the cage! Holy shit!” Riley realizes.

“…”

Thoth explodes with one last surge of vigor as the crowd goes into a frenzy, twirling around 360-degrees in order to gain momentum, and walloping Thompson’s upper torso with a breathtaking chop! TNT holds his ground, quivering near the border of the cage, and Thoth clenches a handful of his streaming hair in his right hand, and yanks him over the edge, sending him soaring off!

“LOOK OUT MARK! Unidentified Flying Object!” Riley warns as TNT plummets from the side of the cage, landing on his side on top of the commentator’s booth, which collapses instantly.

*** CRASH ***

“Good God!” Mark exclaims. “Thoth has just heaved TNT off of that 20 foot cage, and now we don’t even have a table! A bloodied Thompson is just a foot away!”

“HOLY SHIT!”

The arena combusts with merriment and Thoth soaks it all up, as the hulking figure of Frost convalesces behind him, splotches of blood dotting his entire body.

“What the!?” Mark bellows in an unbelieving nature. “Frost was cradle tombstone onto solid steel just a few minutes ago! There’s no way he can recover that fast!”

“Hahahahahahaha!” Riley enjoys every moment of it. “Maybe a NORMAL man would sell that sissy Riot of the Blood, but Frosty is alive and ticking, and is one heated snowball! Wait…can you heat a snowball?”

Thoth eggs on the constant chant, and spins around, where his face abruptly turns pale. Frost bares an evil smirk, and with that, plunges his knuckle into Thoth’s heart!

“TOUCH OF FROST!!!” Mark yells.

“And he’s going for the Early Winter!”

Thoth seizes at his chest in unbearable pain, giving Frost the opening to grab his head with both of his arms, and thrust it into a standing headscissors! Frost immediately hooks his arms, apparently attempting his finishing maneuver that is a Tiger Driver! With one tugging movement, Frost heaves Thoth upwards, but Thoth refuses to move, planting hi feet onto the mesh! Frost attempts this maneuver once more, but to no avail, as Thoth puts all of his weight downward. With a last desperate attempt at salvation, Thoth forces his head up, and stands all the way up into an erect position, sending a surprised Frost flipping over his head! Frost flips all the way onto his back, gaining quite a prominent amount of air, and lands on the unforgiving steel mesh. But 296 pounds seems to be a bit too much for the cage’s ceiling to withhold, and the Iceman from Iceland plummets THROUGH the cage, plunging down to the unforgiving mat of one of the rings below!

“HOLY SHIT!”

“BACKDROP THROUGH THE CAGE!” Riley shrieks in horror.

“HOLY SHIT!”

To be Continued...

July 29, 2002

Thoth looks around in a confused manner, even surprised at himself, but quickly dashes over to the side of the cage, and edges his way off, beginning to climb down!

“Hurry Thoth!” encourages Stevens as Thoth tries to find handholds, working his way down. “It’s come down to this. Mag’s out after he took a door to the head, Z’s writhing in pain, TNT’s laying beside us, Frost’s dead in the ring, Wilson just took an Acid Rayn. Danny’s at the breaking point, but Raynor is right beside those flames and his shoulder is about to fall out of the socket…”

“AHHH! Get him off of me! End it!” A loud tapping is heard as everyone tries to distinguish where it came from…

“RAYNOR TAPPED!!!!” shouts Riley at the top of his lungs as Raynor’s threshold for pain was finally broken, one arm being torn apart and the other being melted away.

Another pounding of the mat is heard as the referee begins to call for the bell.

“Danny’s tapping!” exclaims Stevens. “Edwin’s snapping his ankle!”

“Too late!” mocks Riley. “It’s over! The Magnificent Seven have pulled it out. YESSSSSSSSS!!!”

DING DING DING!

Edwin leaps to his feet, hair mixing with his crimson mask as he assumes he just won the match for his team. The officials and ring crew rush into the ring, fire extinguishers in hand, and immediately begin to put out the flames as Tyler rolls off of Raynor and just lays there. The crowd begins to boo, which confuses Edwin further as Thoth drops the rest of the way from the ceiling meshing to the mat.

“Your winners of this bout…….THE MAGNIIIIIFICENT SEEEEEEVEN!”

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Edwin spins towards one of the officials coming in to help out Frost. He starts screaming at them, wanting an answer. Thoth pulls him away and says something to him. Edwin continues to huff and puff, eyes filled with fury.

“What a finish!” shouts Stevens as EMT’s come over near his and Riley’s table and start to pick up the pieces of TNT. “This match had everything you could ask for: Blood, violence, weapons, big falls, bone-breaking submissions…and now its over, with the victors being the Magnificent Seven. But look what it took to win it! Tyler McClelland nearly destroying himself and Chris Raynor at the same time to win this thing. It shows you how much this match meant to everyone involved, even people like Magnifico and Chilly Chilly Bang Bang, who were double-booked but still gave it everything they had.”

“You can’t criticize Tyler or the Magnificent Seven for what they did to win this match!” defends Riley as various other EMT’s enter the cage and scatter to its various occupants. Chris Wilson slowly rolls up to one knee, a bloody grin on his face as he rises up and walks toward Edwin and Thoth, ELM doing the same thing, finally awakening from painful slumber. “Everyone knew going in how dangerous this thing was going to be, and a couple Foley bumps, some explosives and a lot of blood later, we have a winner. And by God if they don’t deserve-“

Riley’s shut off as all of the lights in the arena give out, the only illumination coming from the flashbulbs of cameras and the last flickerings of the flames still being put out. That light, however, pales in comparison when spotlights begin to flash wildly over the arena, Front Line Assembly’s “Retribution (Front 242 Remix)” beginning to play over the sound system as a white fog flows forth, hovering above the arena…

“What in the hell…”

“Mark, isn’t that…”

“I do believe it is…”

The crowd realizes it as well and reaches their feet in anticipation, another golden Kodak moment awaiting them, as the fifteen or so seconds of darkness is ending abruptly as all the lights kick back on, illuminating a ring with an extra special visitor…

“SILENT!” yells Stevens over the roar of the crowd as the former ML world champion stands in the center of a group of Wilson, Magnifico, Thoth and Edwin. “He belongs in the JL!”

“Well he’s here now!”

“Silent’s got that cane of his and he pulls back…CANE SHOT TO WILSON! The evil genius doesn’t know what hit him and he is down as Silent spins to the other side…CANE SHOT ON MAGNIFICO! He just dropped the near-dead Mexican one last time and he turns to face Thoth and Edwin, deciding which will be his next victim unless one of them can kick into gear and stop him…”

“He’s not hitting them, Mark! Look!”

Bobby Riley, for possibly the only time in his life, is right as Silent drops the cane to the mat and simply smiles at the other two men in the ring.

“This is crazy,” announces Stevens. “I can understand him not hitting his Clan brother, Thoth, but Ediwn?”

“Mind games! This is great! Poor Edwin’s going to be at an asylum by the end of the week. First he loses WarGames by mere seconds, and now his enemy from the JL, Silent, is apparently bumped.”

Stevens lets out a sign as Edwin and Thoth look at each other in the ring. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are out of time! For Bobby Riley, I’m ‘Grand Slam’ Mark Stevens. We’ll see you at Storm,” Stevens looks up at the carnage around him, “but I’m not sure how many of these men will. We hope you had an exciting of a night as we did. Good night!”

As “Grand Slam” signs off, the camera cuts to one high above the entryway. As the copyright forms in the corner, the feed is a steady shot of the double cage, two bloodstained rings, three men left standing as Z pulls himself up in the corner while the whole of Chilly Chilly Bang Bang, “Deathwish” Danny Williams and Chris Raynor are beginning to be stretchered out, flashbulbs still exploding at a feverish pace trying to get every ounce out of this memory as possible. The cage finally starts to rise just as we starwipe to darkness…

July 29, 2002

4-WAY ICTV TITLE #1 CONTERSHIP MATCH

Fallout vs. Lerrin Breggan vs. Chris Raynor vs. Spider Nekura

- Fallout gets the win, despite interference from the returning Sacred.

ULTIMATE SUBMISSIONS MATCH FOR THE SWF LIGHT-HEAVYWEIGHT TITLE

- Magnifico loses a LHW match?! Craaaazy. Suspense filled stuff.

SWF HARDCORE TITLE MATCH

Jay Dawg vs. Annie Eclectic

- Jay Dawg beats up a girl...for shame!

SWF TAG TEAM #1 CONTENDERSHIP MATCH

Longdogger Pete & Tod deKindes vs. “TNT” Taylor Nicholas Thompson & Frost

- Chilly balls chitti-bangers or whatever get a 2nd shot at the tag titles!

STREETFIGHT FOR THE SWF ICTV TITLE

- Taylor just barely manages to retain with help from LDP and Tod deKindes...

WARGAMES

Edwin MacPhisto, El Luchadore Magnifico, Chris Raynor, Z & Thoth vs. Chris Wilson, Danny Williams, Outcast, “TNT” Taylor Nicholas Thompson & Frost

- Find yourself a free hour or so, and read this match...

SWF Ground Zero

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